The other side.

May 7, 2010 at 10:46 am | Posted in Infertility | 1 Comment

I’ve been thinking about infertility a lot lately.

Two of the most important people in my life are battling it right now, and I can’t do anything for them.

In fact, I’m not exactly sure what they need from me.

I mean, I know what *I* needed when we were in the thick of it – a safe place to talk about it, to plan the next step, to analyze every possible area so that when I met with Dr. HIT next, I’d be prepared. To have the space to step back if I needed to. To be able to vent and cry to my friends and have them understand how hard it was.

But not everyone is like me. The two people in my life right need different things. One worries that just by going to the doctor she’s trying to control too much. The other doesn’t like to think or talk much about it, because it makes her upset.

And so I’ve been finding myself mired, in a way, in their battles. Constantly wondering what I should say. Should I ask? Should I wait until they broach it?

In trying so hard to be what I think they need from me, I’ve said some stupid things.

Luckily they love me enough to forgive me the stupidity.

And I like to hope they know that I mean well, and I empathize, and I want to DO something but can’t.

But I’m terrified of making a misstep.

And I have to wonder if this was how my friends and family felt when WE were going through the thick of things. I now have empathy for the people on the other side, the ones who I was not-so-secretly jealous of that could get pregnant right away, the ones who told me that if they “couldn’t have their own kids, they’d just adopt.”

What a position our infertility must have put them in.

Why is it that IF is such a secret? Why does grief have to be hidden?

And how do I HELP?

It’s sort of like dealing with it all over again. But worse this time, because the resolution of our infertility was O. And that’s not a guarantee, particularly when the two people I love have to pay out of pocket for advanced treatments like IVF. Neither can really afford them.

It’s not fair, and I want to DO something. I’m tired of trying to convince myself that just being there for them, even when I say stupid things, is enough. Maybe it is. But it doesn’t make ME feel any better.

I crave ACTION. I want to reach out and grab their future and GIVE it to them. I want fill the hole in their hearts, patch up the feelings of failure, have them believe that they are gorgeous and awesome just as they are. I want them to see themselves how *I* view them.

Because they’re amazing women. They both inspire me to be a better person.

But mostly?

I want to give them what they want most in the world. Both of these women are amazing mothers already. They don’t deserve to suffer like they have been.

The other side is almost just as hard as dealing with infertility in the first place. Maybe it’s because its exacerbated with the fact that I know nothing is certain. I can’t say to them with any measure of confidence that their own infertility will be resolved with a baby in their arms. I know too much.

But still. I wish I could DO something.

Advertisements

1 Comment »

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

  1. The kicker, of course, is that half the time I don’t even know what I need. And since there’s really no one to blame or a place to direct the anger, I end up pigeon-holing people into a position of never doing the “right” thing no matter their efforts. Ask how things are going? Ug, don’t want to talk about it right now. Don’t ask how things are going? Gee, thanks for forgetting about me. It’s not fair, of course, but it’s a reality.

    The only thing I know for sure is that while you have running that makes you feel alive (makes me feel like I’m *dying*, but whatever, tomato/tomahto), the thing that makes me feel the most alive and the least stagnant is making plans and just getting out and enjoying my life. Anything beyond that is an uncertainty, but that much I know is true for me, and that’s what I have to hang onto at this point.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.
Entries and comments feeds.

%d bloggers like this: