Then. Now.January 16, 2012 at 9:40 am | Posted in Heartbreak, Infertility | 5 Comments
It’s so different now.
When we were trying the first time, I had time, and energy, and patience.
Before, I spent time working to be okay with the unknowingly hurtful things people said to me. I mean, ultimately their hearts were in a good place and they didn’t MEAN to hurt me.
Before, I spent time trying to educate people on infertility, how it’s a medical condition, and no amount of relaxing would miraculously help us get pregnant.
Before, if someone announced their pregnancy, I’d feel badly if I didn’t send a note in congratulations. Even if it was a short one, I’d say SOMETHING.
Before, I looked at every cycle with Hope. Maybe the NEXT cycle would work; we’d figure out exactly what we needed to do in order to get pregnant.
Before, I thought if I worked really hard at accepting the whole “people get pregnant and I don’t” thing, maybe I’d feel more DESERVING when it happened to me.
Before, I’d look at the IVF veterans on the boards and get scared that I’d lost myself to IF. They were so bitter; it really scared me that I’d end up like that.
Before, I remember telling the universe that if I could just have a baby once, that would be okay with me.
It isn’t okay.
Not by a longshot.
Somehow over the years it’s gotten harder.
Now? Not only do I not bother with a congratulations note, I immediately unsubscribe from any of their FB status updates. And I don’t feel badly about it, either. I mean, I’m glad for THEM – that they get to complete their family however they wanted to and all.
But I really don’t want to hear about it.
Now I don’t bother reacting to the hurtful, ignorant comments, like the daycare mom who told me See, I think I just WANTED it too much. As soon as I stopped really paying attention, we got pregnant! Because, really, what’s the POINT? It’s not going to change anything.
Now I can’t even think about another cycle. I want to see another doctor for another opinion, but whatthefuck is THAT going to do? We’re just going to do the same tests and be told that yeah, we don’t know why you were able to get pregnant with O, but wow, aren’t you lucky to have him.
Now I look at my gorgeous little BOY, all arms and legs and pointy elbows and energy and imagination and play, and I see how I squandered his babyhood away in a haze of sleep deprivation and overwhelming fear that I was going to fuck things up.
Now I see a pregnant belly and I don’t care how long it took her to get pregnant, but look, it’s looking pretty good that she’ll get a baby out of it so shut the fuck up about how long it took.
I am turning into those women on the IVF veterans board. Bitter. Jaded. Angry. Cynical.
Is this delayed onset infertility bitterness?
A product of too many years of treatment?
I don’t know.
All I know is that I’m angry.
Angry at myself for wanting more, when we actually DID win the lottery once. I’m terrified I’ll wake up in ten years and see that I wasted O’s preschool years on being bitter over something I never got.
I don’t want that. I want to be present in his here and now.
I’m tired of the breathless gut-punch of hearing about someone else’s pregnancy, of feeling that deep scream THAT SHOULD BE ME! inside me. I’m so afraid that I’ll have this aching void inside me for the rest of my life.
Am I going to want to punch my future daughter in law for getting pregnant easily?
I know. It’s extreme. And yes, right now everything’s raw and open. It really hurts, acutely and overwhelmingly. All I can do is ride it out, stay busy with other things, and work it out in my weekly therapy sessions.
But it’s so different now.
And I really, really wish it wasn’t.