Shit Fertiles Say

I may or may not have spent my lunch break on Friday watching videos on YouTube called "Shit Girls Say," "Shit Guys Say," and their many iterations. Shit White Girls Say to Arab/Black/Asian Girls. Shit Christians Say to Jews. Shit Vegans Say. You should check them out. All hilarious, yet totally cringeworthy because I'm sure these are actually things the targets hear often. And I started to realize that someone needs to make one called, "Shit Fertiles Say." Even though I don't have a video camera and I'm not about to run out to get one, the transcript for such a video has been running through my head all weekend. I'm sure if you watch enough of the inspiration videos on YouTube you could imagine what it would look like. But here's my transcript.


"When are you guys having babies?"

"Are you propping your hips up?"

"You guys are doing it, right?"

"You have to get busy on the 14th day. Otherwise it won't work."

"My sister's friend's hairdresser's aunt's mailman was infertile and then they stopped trying and she was knocked up like that" ::finger snap::

"When are you guys having babies?"

"You should just adopt"

"Adopt"

"Adopt"

"You're selfish if you don't adopt"

"Maybe God doesn't mean for you to be a mom"

"Are you sure you're doing it right?"

"Ugh, he just breeeeathes on me and I get preggers."

"You want kids? Spend a day with my little terrors, you'll see."

"You know what you need? A vacation. Then you can relax"

"Relax"

"Relax"

"Relax"

"You need to get drunk and do it."

"Why would you do Clomid? It causes multiples. Like Jon and Kate."

"When are you guys having babies?"

"Ooooooh, you know who's pregnant? My 16-year-old cousin."

"Stop trying and relax."

"You can borrow my husband's sperm."

"If you were supposed to have a baby, you'd get pregnant."

"Obviously, it's just not your time."

"You'll never get pregnant if you don't relax."

"My sister tried for a long time. It took her like 3 months."

"Just do IVF."

"IVF"

"Stop trying"

"Reeeeeelaaaaaax"

"Worse things can happen."

"Are you sure you're doing it right?"

"I bet I know what the problem is.... you need to relax"

Clean Slate

I spent most of the last quarter of 2011 just wishing I could go to sleep and wake up in 2012. I wanted a new start, a clean slate. I needed to be able to put the year behind me - the year that was so full of heartache that it took me doing a month-by-month recap of the year on my family blog to remember that we actually did have some fun in 2011 (and we bought a house!).

And now, it's 2012. And, quite honestly, as cheesy or optimistic as it sounds, my slate really does feel clean. I've never really been big on New Year's Eve. I've never seen it as all that much of a new start. Until this year. I put it in my head that a new calendar year could mean a new attitude, a new set of memories, a new everything. And so far, the whole 4 days of 2012 have been far better. I feel more at peace, more ready to take on what this new view of life will bring. It honestly feels as though, for the first time, I could set my mind to how I could be, and it worked.

I started my year doing my first project for the big thing I'm excited for this year: my craft room. I painted an old dresser of Buddy's a brilliant purple to go with the color scheme I have planned for the room. I talked excitedly with Buddy (as opposed to at him) about the plans for the room and how we would build the workspace. He gets that the craft room is symbolic of accepting a new life-plan and finding a new way to be productive. Also, I think he's just happy to see me truly thrilled about something again and wants to do whatever he can to foster it. I feel incredibly blessed and hopeful for the first time in 6 months. I had no idea how much I'd allowed myself to be weighed down.

I know there are still going to be times when the world feels crushing and unfair. But the success of envisioning and (so far) achieving a new perspective gives me hope and determination that I can give myself a clean slate if and when I ever need one again in the future. I am welcoming 2012 with open arms and know that there's nowhere to go from here but up.

Reminiscing

As 2011 is drawing to a close, I find myself feeling anxious for a clean slate. I've said more than once that I just want to go to sleep and wake up next year. This year has been so sucky, and I keep daydreaming that I will wake up on January 1, 2012 and everything will be different. I know that's not actually what's going to happen, but I like to hope that as the calendar flips to a new year, I can shed some of the sadness I feel and embrace 2012 for what it is: a new start.

I feel like I'm saying good-bye to a phase of my life. I'm feeling more and more at peace with being a family with just Buddy, but I admit there are things I miss about that time: the intimacy I felt him, the discussion of baby names, the imagining of the future raising children.

At the same time, 2011 has given us closer relationships with both each other and with some of our friends and their amazing children. I feel that 2012 will be filled with wonderful things, hopefully including strong bonds with the supportive people in our lives. I hope it will also bring with it strength to continue going through this process and to be stronger as a couple because of it.

2011 was so much about devastation for me. It's been a long 6 months since June, when we first found out about my progesterone. It's been marked by tough decisions and many tears. I am optimistic that 2012 can be about hope: for a fun future, a happily married life, and prosperity for our friends and family.

Happy Holidays, everyone, and a Joyous New Year to You :)

Bah Humbug

I have always loved Christmas. I love decorating, baking, picking out the perfect gifts. I love the excitment. It's kind of a family joke that even at the age of 25, I would wake up my sister at 6am, excited to open gifts and start the day. For a long time when I was young, my dad had to work until early afternoon and it was a painful wait. For the few years when he didn't have to work, the rules were that my parents had to have their coffee, and Dad would have his traditional gift-opening Guinness. Then we'd open stockings first, followed by gifts. Then we'd have a big brunch and spend the day relaxing. The first year Buddy and I were together, we went to see Christmas lights that evening. It was the first time we'd talked about getting married. It is my favorite Christmas memory. I've always loved Christmas.

Until now. I can't help but feel there's something missing. I'm apathetic. I haven't even shopped for my family yet. For friends? Yes. But the more my family goes on and on talking about what we want for Christmas, the more I just feel... nothing. I just want to curl up and wake up in January, after the holidays are over. After the stores have put away the "Baby's 1st Christmas" stockings and after the Christmas themed Facebook pregnancy announcements have fallen off the page of my newsfeed. I tried to open up to my mom about how I was feeling about this Christmas - that I just didn't have the joy I usually feel, that this Christmas is very different than how Buddy and I imagined it a year ago. She just said, "oh." As if feeling crappy wasn't enough, now I feel brushed off, too.

Two months ago, the message board was already asking about how fellow IFers dealt with the holidays. Some ladies mentioned they were going away on vacation or were avoiding family functions with their pesky, "when are you guys having kids?" questions. And I judged, I admit. I said I would never avoid family or a holiday I loved because of IF. And then, I walked in to Target and saw the store dressed up in it's festive marketing and walked by a Baby's 1st Christmas bib, misplaced in the wine aisle of all places. And I teared up. A few days later, I was shopping at Old Navy with Buddy, carrying around a hugely discounted white pea coat I'd had my eye on when my sister texted me, "what do you want for Christmas?" I put the coat back, grabbed Buddy's hand and left the store, barely making it to the car before bursting into tears.

Something about the holidays, even with all the magic and wonder, makes me remember what's missing. I'm in a far better place after reading Sweet Grapes. It's helped me immensely. I was able to buy Baby's 1st Christmas pajamas for two friends' babies. I proudly ordered, wrapped, and shipped gifts for my friend's 10-week-old. I have more resolve and peace with things than I did two months ago. Yet there's still a pang of sadness when I think about visits to Santa and The Elf on the Shelf and Christmas morning. It's mixed in with the apathy towards shopping for gifts and wanting to hibernate and anticipating our friends' kids opening the gifts we thoughtfully picked out for them. It's a mess of emotion where there used to be pure joy. I was naive to think that IF wouldn't affect Christmas.

Talking It Out

A few weeks ago, I took a big step towards calm and mental health and went and spoke with a counselor about our IF and how it's affecting our lives. I can't say enough good things about what talking to someone has done for my psyche. I realize it may not be for everyone, but I highly recomment at least considering it. I want to share a little of my experience with you in case there's anyone out there thinking about it. I'm not trying to talk you into anything, because it's a personal choice, but it's worked out well for me.

First, I found a great counselor. I got pretty lucky, I think. I was very worried that if I didn't find the right person, I'd be told to relax, the same way the general population of fertiles tells me to do. I used Psychotherapy Today to find a counselor in my area, then narrowed down the choices by insurance companies accepted and specialty. Mine lists her focus as family issues, with everything from LGBT parenting to IF to grief counseling as topics she works with. I emailed her and got the conversation going. She invited me to either call or come in and chat to see if I felt she was a good match for me. I liked that she emphasized how important she knew that level of comfort was. I chose to make an appointment in her office, and I'm glad I chose that over the phone option. I really was able to get a sense of her energy. I knew I liked her presence right away. I really think finding the right counselor is essential to working through anything, but especially something so personal and life-changing.

One great thing about counseling is that I go alone (though Buddy is welcome at any time and does plan to join me in a few weeks). I know that Buddy and I are in this together, but there are some emotions that are just my own. And there are some fears and other emotions that are hard to share with him. IF can be all-consuming, and I can easily see how it could tear a relationship apart over time. Something that is important and valuable to me in this is having an outlet to express the thoughts that weigh on me without having to dump them all on Buddy all the time. He feels badly enough about the MFI and low T. While I do talk to him about some things, there are just some things I don't feel I need to burden him with. Or, sometimes, there's something I want to talk to him about, but it's difficult to put into words he'll relate to or I don't know how to broach it. My therapist has been excellent at helping me put some of those more complex emotions in simpler terms so that I can bring them to Buddy and have a constructive conversation.

Something wonderful therapy has given me is some validation. While I'm thankful to be a member of a wonderfully supportive group of women also dealing with IF, no two cases are identical. We're in a stage of moving away from TTC, where most of the ladies are still going through treatments. In fact, we never did any treatment, so I can't even relate on that level. I feel very alone at times, and worry about people thinking we gave up. Buddy and I feel we made a rational decision for ourselves, considering the chances, treatment costs, and possible outcomes. My therapist has helped me work through those feelings. There are times when I don't feel like I've gone through enough to justify the sadness or grief I feel. But between my therapist and Sour Grapes, I've come to realize that there are no easy decisions in IF, and no matter what, when we hit that 12 month mark, things changed. We received damaging news in our test results. We had to face the fact that this is a crisis - dreams of parenthood were in jeopardy. Our reaction was and is normal. While our choices regarding treatment may not be typical, they are no less valid. Similarly, our pain is no less real. There's no such thing as having to "suffer" enough to justify grief in this situation.

My counselor is also working with me on tools. We've discussed things like how to answer questions. She deals with other IF couples and knew without me even having to tell her how intrustive "are you guys trying?" and "when are you having kids?" can be, especially if people don't know about our situation. She's helped me come up with some ways to both politely and snarkily (depending on the situation) shut down conversation if the topic comes up. I was recently very anxious about Buddy's aunts coming to Thanksgiving. Buddy was the first cousin to be married, and we've been asked about kids since our wedding day. While we know people ask because they're excited for us, I was worried about my Thanksgiving Day reaction when I was feeling like there was something missing from my "things I'm thankful for" list this year. Having one liners that can appropriately convey that the topic is not open for discussion was empowering for me.

Another tool we've started to touch on is dealing with the dichotomy of my fears. There are two parts of life that currently elicit great emotion: pregnancy/young childhood and end-of-life. Obviously, not getting pregnant and having a baby have caused an emotional roller coaster. For some reason, I don't feel as much grief over not having a teen or adult child as I do over not having a baby and young child. A lot of my grief is centered around visions of Buddy teaching a kid to ride a bike and celebrating Christmas with a little one with eyes full of wonder not coming to fruition. On ther other side, assuming there are never children and Buddy passes first, who will be with me? I'm terrified of being alone at the end of my days. While couples should plan for retirement and elder care while relatively young, my therapist is supportively getting the ball rolling with thinking about those things now. She recognizes that it's important to me to know in some sense what that time some 40-50 years down the road may look like for me, in addition to helping me deal with the here-and-now losses of IF as I see my peers announce pregnancies daily.

So that got kind of lengthy. I just wanted to share a few of the valuable things I've already been armed with in meeting with a counselor. There is so much to IF and the way it affects our lives, and there are issues and fears that we may not know how to deal with. Therapy is one way to help us handle it, and I wanted to share my positive experience.

IF Reading: Sweet Grapes

On my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days was to read 3 IF books - I know, not a lofty goal, but I have other books I want to read and I figured 3 IF-related books was a good place just to start. So I read Sweet Grapes: How to Stop Being Infertile and Start Living Again by Jean and Michael Carter. It's about how to make a conscious choice to live childfree and embrace both the gains and the losses of being a family of two. Essentially, it states that "infertile" means trying to get pregnant, and by making a choice to walk away from that journey and in no longer trying, a couple is no longer infertile. It describes in great detail the difference between being childfree and childless.

I'd been wanting to read this book for a while, and I'm glad it did. Even if an IF couple isn't facing a childfree life decision just yet, I think it's helpful to read to see what it means to be childfree after infertility. The book discusses the grieving process as it is specific to IF. It explained the steps of grief that a couple must go through, the process for making, affirming, and sticking with a decision to be childfree. For me, it justified many things I've been feeling. First, there is no right or wrong decision. We all have to make a decision based on the weighing of facts, risks, and outcomes. This goes for any decision, and two couples may never come to the same conclusion given identical situations simply because we each value things differently. So while I've been feeling strange about the fact that we essentially chose to not pursue treatment before it even started, Sweet Grapes affirmed for me that Buddy and I made the best decision for us based on many factors. And it's okay that someone else would have done things differently. I don't have to justify our decision to anyone but us. That was a big point for me.

Sweet Grapes covers a variety of topics, including adoption, which is often a difficult subject for us IFers. Oftentimes, we are labeled as selfish for choosing to either pursue infertility treatments or live childfree over choosing adoption. The position of the authors is that choosing childfree and choosing adoption are not mutually exclusive, meaning being childfree is not being anti-adoption. It's just a different choice. Adoption is not for everyone and that's okay. Adoption and choosing childfree are simply two of the possible positive outcomes for the end of the infertility struggle, along with the birth of a biological child. All three choices are equally viable and good, but they have to be conscious choices and not events that take place because one of the others didn't pan out. This is how I felt about adoption from the start, but to have it written out in a more eloquent manner than I could ever express is helpful.

I'm not good at book reviews, it's never been my strong suit. But if you're an IF couple and are interested in educating yourself on all three of the possible outcomes for an IF struggle, I'd definitely encourage checking out Sweet Grapes. It's not the choice for everyone, and it's not an easy decision, and it comes with a long process. However, I think this reading brings a number of topics to light to give IFers at all stages a good look at what childfree means in a true-life account of a couple who found their way through it.

Angry

I’m angry that insurance and money play such big roles in our choices. I don't know for sure that it would necessarily change our course of action, but we wouldn't feel as stuck.

I’m angry that people keep asking “when are you guys having children?” and “Two years of marriage, eh? Time to have a baby!” I’m angry that people think this is any of their business and anything they have a right to talk or ask about. I’m angry that my lady parts seem to be an acceptable topic of conversation.

I’m angry that I overhear people saying, “we’ll have a baby a year or so after we get married” and my first thought is, “don’t be so sure about that.”

I’m angry that my husband’s infertility leaves him with nearly no desire for me. I’m angry that it’s taken away my sex life, too.

I’m angry that when I put enough trust in someone to tell them what’s going on, I hear, “just do IVF,” “you need to just adopt, “ or “stop trying, you’ll get knocked up for sure!”

I’m angry that no one can just consider my feelings and give me a hug and say, “I’m sorry.”
I’m angry it’s so easy for other people.

I’m angry that I have to even worry about my reaction on the day in the unknown future when either my sister or sister-in-law announces they’re expecting.

I’m angry that it consumes my thoughts.

I’m angry that we’re preparing to turn our guest room into a craft room instead of a nursery.

I’m angry that everyone assumes it’s something I’m doing wrong.

I’m angry.