I finally updated my profile on blogger and added some stuff under the interest section. Of course I added infertility to see how many other profiles would come up under that “interest.” It’s no suprise that there were 225 other people that also listed infertility. After all, isn’t the statistic “1 out of 8 women” suffer from infertility? That’s a whole lot of women in the world. So why is it that, despite these statistics, I still feel so alone in this journey?
Of course I have my dear Hubby. We are both going through this journey together. However, as much as he is always there for me, I know that I’m also the one in this relationship that tends to feel things more deeply. I’m the emotional one. I’m the one who tends to be over-sensitive when it comes to anything having to do with pregnancies and babies and family-oriented things.
The crux of it, I know, is that I don’t let people know exactly how I feel. They may get the gist of how these things affect me; most likely by my non-verbal behavior or the skillful way that I’ve learned to avoid any events that might involve family or kid-related things. However, I’ve never directly told them how I’ve felt.
Oh, I may have discussed my infertility with others once or twice; once to my sis-in-law while she was pregnant and maybe another time to my mom one occasion when I finally broke down and cried in front of her. But after those situations, it’s almost as if my journey through infertility was just a non-issue in the grand scheme of things that were happening. In fact, the week after I had enough courage to talk to my sister-in-law about how bittersweet the news of her pregnancy was to me, her latest ultrasound and lab tests showed signs of some fetal anomalies. I mean, seriously … where does my issue of infertility rank in the grand scheme of those type of things?
But lately, I’ve been trying to make an effort to let others know how I feel. Call it a cleansing of some sort. This blog is definitely a means to let out my emotions. And since I’ve been doing this, I have started to feel a little better. I’ve realized in this process that I’m a better communicator when writing. And that when placed face to face with someone to describe how I’m feeling, I can’t quite get the correct words out. I can’t even begin to describe how uncomfortable I felt during the times I participated in an infertility support group meeting or just how difficult it was to talk to my sister-in-law during her pregnancy; and even now, after Liam‘s birth. So this blogging thing is a good thing. I only truly hope that this blog reaches those specific people I wish to read it and that it attracts the audience that I hope to capture. I seriously have no idea, as no one ever leaves any comments on my blog. (Not that I’m trying to fish for comments … )
I guess I just don’t know exactly where I am in this “infertility journey.” I know I’m past the medical aspect of it; meaning I’m not going to submit myself to any more medications or procedures any more. I’m pretty sure the whole donor embryo aspect of it or surrogacy is not an option, as Hubby and I just aren’t comfortable with that direction. That leaves adoption or living child-free. And I’m not about ready to accept the notion of child-free living.
As I mentioned in a previous post, I know adoption is our next step in starting our family. But I’m just not there yet, emotionally (not to mention financially). When I start that next step, I want feel like there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I’m doing the right thing. I don’t want to feel like I’m a failure for not being able to conceive my own child. I want to have a bit of my self-esteem back so I can focus one-hundred percent on the adoption task at hand. And I want to be able to have a positive attitude, and not feel like I’m going to end up being sorely disappointed again. Because, quite frankly, I don’t know how I would be able to pick myself up again if I had to go through another loss.
Getting back to the whole Blogger profile thing … As I was going through quite a handful of blogs of people that are going through or have gone through the infertility journey, I still felt alone. Most of the blogs I pulled up were people currently going through some sort of treatment; whether it was Clomid, IVF, donor embryo or even adoption. And many of them were blogs of those that had “successfully graduated” to proud parenthood. Since I already went through the Clomid and IVF route (once was enough, both financially and emotionally, thank you very much) nor am I a parent of any sort, I feel like I can’t 100% relate to anyone. And I would certainly feel apprehensive about commenting on their blog entries, thinking I wouldn’t be able to add any additional info or support that they don’t already have.
225 people listed as having some sort of infertility and I still felt alone. How could that be? How can I not find anyone else that felt caught between stages of this infertility journey? Sure, there were a lot of the same emotions of failure and disappointment. But most of those same blogs also expressed hope. Something that I’m obviously sorely lacking right now.
I really, truly want to know. Am I all by myself out here in cyberland? Are my thoughts and rants completely crazy? And while I know that Hubby will always there for me, am I doomed to experience these crazy infertility emotions alone?