The infertility monster

I never bargained for the emotional roller coaster that trying to conceive would be. I never imagined that I would find myself classified as infertile in my doctor’s files, have to take injections, vaginal suppositories, experience part or all of a fertility work-up, have to go in for multiple medical procedures on a monthly basis to achieve pregnancy. I thought my only barrier to producing a child was the chosen absence of a male partner.

This is a strange and sometimes lonely place to be. I have feelings that embarrass me, some that I can barely share with Vanessa. I resent mothers, particularly youthful mothers. It hurts to see them at the grocery store– one baby napping in the cart, another child toddling along beside. I resent young pregnant women in the mall, out at restaurants, at the doctor’s office. Sometimes I feel like they are flaunting their bellies– rubbing it in my face that they can shelter a life, and I can’t. If they’re not being malicious, they’re at least taking for granted the precious gifts that have been given to them– probably didn’t even ask for children. Never tried as hard as we are trying, paid what we are paying, got stuck with a needle over and over again in the pursuit of children.

My mother suggested once that perhaps this isn’t happening for us because it’s not supposed to. I hung up the phone, but that idea stays with me. Not long ago I caught myself wondering whether God sent us Buffy as a consolation prize– good enough to care for a dog, but not a human being. I know these are irrational thoughts, and I’m ashamed of them, but this is what the infertility monster does to you. On one of the blogs I read, a woman writes that she finds herself wondering whether not being able to conceive is a sign that the dysfunctional family line is supposed to end with her. I know what it’s like to feel that way, and it’s good to know at least that I’m not alone. That’s why I wrote this entry– not looking for folks to tell me these thoughts are irrational and that I’m a worthy candidate for motherhood but to let any other woman who might be reading this and experiencing infertility know that she’s not alone either.

Advertisements

4 Comments

Filed under Gettin' Knocked Up

4 responses to “The infertility monster

  1. It sometimes strikes me as really unfair that the least deserving people pop out children with little-to-no-thought while those who would make really wonderful parents can’t seem to have kids. One person I know is pregnant after being with someone less than six months. This is an awful thing to say, but I firmly believe she’ll be a terrible mother – suffocating, smothering, needy, impatient. You guys, on the other hand, seem like really loving, intelligent, amazing people. I don’t know why it isn’t happening right now, but I believe it will. Your choice to have a child because you want to really means a lot to me. You’ll just appreciate it all that much more when it does happen.

  2. The bright side of being labeled infertile is that now all this qualifies as a bona fide medical expense in the eyes of the IRS. Woo hoo!

    I love you baby.

  3. My mother suggested once that perhaps this isn’t happening for us “because it’s not supposed to.”

    Your mom forgot three words…

    “because it’s not supposed to … happen, right now.”

    My thoughts are with you.

  4. Co

    Hi. Thanks for your comment on my blog.

    I, too, thought my only barrier to conception was lack of male sperm. But here I am… on Clomid, trigger shotting, taking progesterone suppositories. Fun!

    It’s impossible not to question why it hasn’t happened for those of us who are still waiting. Maybe if I did this, or that. Maybe some higher power is preventing it, for my own good, for the child’s own good. And being able to rationalize that none of that makes sense doesn’t necessarily take the feeling away.

    I definitely appreciate all the folks in the blogosphere who know what I’m going through. I hope you know you’re not alone.

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