What I Know

I’ve been struggling off and on the past two weeks or so. Some days are harder than others. I’ve had to go back to posts from last year’s miscarriage to remind myself that feeling sad still is ok. This time was different, in many ways, but the pain is the same.

RESOLVE put out a call for videos put together by people dealing with infertility for something they are coordinating with a popular women’s magazine. I haven’t yet decided if I’ll participate, but the prompt is simple. “I wish I had known.” The thing is, I really don’t wish I had known any of this stuff before starting down this path, because I’m not sure we’d have walked it. But I can tell you what I know. And what I know is this:

What I know is that infertility permeates every aspect of your life. It affects your ability to function at work, at school, in social circles.

What I know is that infertility takes away the joy of getting pregnant. Unlike your friends, who post pregnancy tests on facebook as soon as they miss their period, you know all too well a positive stick doesn’t equal a take home baby. You’ll worry, and fret, and analyze, and over-analyze, and hold your breath until you deliver.

What I know is that having children after infertility doesn’t lessen the pain of dealing with infertility again. Or still. They change it. But it still hurts like hell.

What I know is that people will be insensitive. Doctors. Nurses. Friends. Coworkers. I once had a coworker tell me maybe I just wasn’t meant to have children. Right before my first IVF cycle.

What I know is that the only thing worse than a negative pregnancy test is one that’s positive as your betas are dropping.

What I know is that there isn’t any hiding from infertility. Reminders are everywhere. Facebook, the grocery store, work, your own family. Murphy’s law of infertility is that as you stare at a negative pregnancy test or deal with yet another miscarriage, someone else in your sphere of influence is pregnant with an “Oops” take home baby.

What I know is that miscarriages, even early ones, are devastating.

What I know is that many people I know are dealing with infertility.

What I know is that infertility would bring me the greatest joys of my life. If not for infertility, then we wouldn’t have done IVF. If not for IVF, who knows if we would have N and J. They are single-handedly responsible for healing my heart, over and over and over again.

Infertility has taken me to my knees time and time again. But because of it, I’ve experienced the greatest joys I’ve ever known, and I’d do it all over again as long as I could have them.

What I know is it’s worth it.

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4 thoughts on “What I Know

  1. Worth it or not, I’m still sorry that you know all of these things; that any of us do. We may not be able to bring an end to infertility, but we can talk about what it means and why it hurts, and that is valuable too. Thanks for the thoughtful post.

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