Asking for what we need

I know that when we ask for what we need from those we love we don't always get it.  It is risky, and can add pain to an already unbearable situation.  I am so grateful for the way that everything developed over the course of this week.  Without your guidance, and my hubby's I am sure that things with my friends would not have turned out as well as they did.  

I mentioned in this post about my conversation with BF that I sent an email to thank her.   This is what I wrote to her.  Her response back to me is one of the most heartfelt things that anyone has written or said to me, outside of my marriage and the kind words you offer me here.  

I wanted to share it as an end to this week's chapter.  I'm posting it here also because I want to be able to refer to this again, and again if I need to.   I'm remembering that sometimes beautiful things do come out of the darkest of times.  

*****************************************************

 BF, 

Thank you for being there for us.   For calling us, for inviting us over, for dropping of packages, for the texts and calls asking how we are doing.  For remembering me on Mother's Day.  Thank you for letting us know that you feel our pain too and you are care for us. 

Thank you especially for listening last night.  Your support and understanding to us after this loss, and throughout this process has not gone unnoticed and has helped us through many hard times.  

I wish last night, (and many other times), that I could have better expressed our gratefulness more adequately.   I am sorry I haven't done a better job of that yesterday, and in the past. 

Love, 

J

PS) This is a video that circulates a lot in the infertility community.  I was thinking of sending it to A and A, and maybe a few others.  What do you think?

http://www.tearsandhope.com

(The link doesn't work on an iPhone). 

thanks for the email J.

 I really appreciate that you guys came over on the weekend. it was our hope that the sandbox project would be a distraction to you rather than a painful reminder or we never would have asked you. i hope it turned out that way but we probably didn't time that right ....    as you know we are thrilled with it and can't thank you , F-in-law,  and D enough. 

thanks for letting me know how you've been feeling as you go about trying to manage the grief you are faced with . i am so sincerely sorry that you are not receiving the support you need from friends at this devastating and lonely time .  I know you recognize our efforts in trying to be supportive but truthfully, your situation just devastates me so much too, that I find difficult to mobilize my supportive thoughts .I'm personally sorry for this . Because we care about you guys so deeply, we are also hurting. 

I know for certain that there are many others hurting for you too , and I am sorry that you are not getting those messages directly or they haven't come at the time you needed them most. 

please know that we continue to pray for you daily , we will forever cherish  our friendships with you and D.

I can think of many times I have thrown myself onto your front porch in times I've needed your support. please know you can reach out anytime too! 

Also , I just watched that incredible video and yes , I think that sharing it is a great idea . it was very very powerful .   thx for sharing if with me .

lots of love , ttys BF 

Sent from my iPhone

Sandboxes and support

Several weeks ago, when all was well, my BF asked if my father-in-law, a retired carpenter if he would build them a sandbox for their two kids, ages 3 and 6.  She knows he loves working on anything with wood.  (Aren't I lucky to have a carpenter for a father in law? I think it's awesome!)

While building the sandbox, I'm sure it wasn't ever far from his mind that he wishes he was building this for his own grandkids, something he may never get to see as D is an only child.  It makes me sad to think of him, thinking about this.  It reminds me that our infertility isn't just our loss, it's theirs too.

Father-in-law doesn't like the finishing part of projects.  So, the plan was to deliver it unfinished to them.  I'm sure he figured would be easy enough for them to sand it and stain it.

Knowing these friends, I knew that they probably wouldn't do that because they are busy and not that handy.  And once the kids saw the box, I know they would be so excited that I'm sure they wouldn't want to wait until Mom and Dad were able to get the supplies to do this, and then get it done.

I decided that I could finish the sandbox.  I'm a pretty good painter (of walls and furniture etc.), and I have all of the supplies.   I like doing things like this, and hadn't done anything in months.  I like the feeling of accomplishment that I get from seeing something go from unfinished to looking great.

When I told D that I was going to do this, he was surprised.  I knew what he was thinking, even though he didn't say it.  "Why the heck are you going to put yourself through that?"  I kind of wondered the same thing, but decided that I would try not to think about what it was that I was finishing, and just look at it as a project and a way to help a friend.

My BF and her husband invited us over for dinner.   They had also invited D's parents to thank them, but they couldn't make it.

They've made other offers which we haven't accepted over the past couple of weeks.  While we didn't feel completely emotionally ready for it, we decided to go anyways.   The plan was to drop off the sandbox and have a nice meal, then hopefully head home before their kids needed to go to bed.

When we arrived the kids and their parents were equally thrilled with the sandbox.   D's Dad really did a great job, and the finishing came out beautifully.  They were very appreciative for it, thanking us many times and telling us how great it looked.  I'm sure they were laying it on extra thick, to boost our spirits, yet their praise and gratefulness also felt genuine. 

We had a nice meal, and watched the kids play outside in their new sandbox.  They didn't care that it was chilly cold outside. They were having so much fun.  It was nice in a way, because it gave us a chance to have more adult only talk.

While they were outside, BF brought up the flowers that we sent to our friend's mother.  I think she was a bit baffled by it too.  I told her that I thought it was a bit weird, that we didn't send flowers to anyone else's parent who has been sick, including to her father who had a heart attack this year.   She said that she thought this could be different because her spouse had died a year ago.  She thought that this was a part of that decision.  I said I thought it was nice, and I hadn't thought of it that way.

I told her that also kind of confused about it.   I said that I know she is going through a hard time, but it just made me feel a little funny.  That after everything D and I had been through, recently that for some reason it just stung a little bit.   She said she thought about that too.

She asked me if I had talked to any of our other friends.  I said just one, and another had left a message.  She seemed surprised.   I said that I had received a couple of nice texts right after everything happened, but I thought they might have connected with me again afterwards.

She said she talked to one of the friends  a couple of weeks ago, and she said she was going to call (she's the one who left the message).  I get the impression that the purpose of their call was to commiserate about what had happened to me, and plan what they were going to say.

Our conversation ended as dinner preparations got underway and the kids came inside.  

The kids played with D and I, climbing all over us.  Sitting on our laps.  The little boy, 3 stayed on D's lap for probably a half an hour.  Seeing that was one of those bittersweet moments, as I'm sure you can imagine.  It makes my heart swell.  When your heart is full of holes though, everything just ends up leaking out.   We have so much love for these kids (and their parents), that it is hard to turn away from them. We want to be a part of their lives, but holy shit was that hard. 

After dinner we were all sitting around.  I was starting to feel like it was time to go home. I was feeling sad and tired.  The kids and men were watching baseball videos on the laptop.  BF and I were sitting on a couch, quietly talking.

BF asked about the upcoming weekend with friends.  I said that before all of this happened, that I was really looking forward to it, but I'm not sure anymore.   I told her that my feelings were hurt that noone reached out more than they did.  

In a quiet, choked up voice, I told her a lot of what I was thinking, things that came easily to mind because I had written the letter.  She sat on the other end of couch, agreeing with me, wiping the tears from under her glasses.   I was a bit uncomfortable with other people in the room, but it seemed like everyone was just zoned in to what they were doing.   It never occurred to me to ask to talk to her in another room.

She listened and I was grateful.  I told her a lot of things.  I think the letter really helped me present my thoughts to her.    I told her that I don't know if everyone is just talking about this amongst themselves, forgetting that no one is talking to us about it?  She agreed that, yes this was probably happening.

She asked what she could do.  She suggested that she could reach out again to them and suggest that I was now ready for contact.  I said yes, that would be good.

She said she hopes that we know that they were trying to be there for  us.  That she didn't know what to do.  That she thought about buying flowers, and doing other things.  That nothing seemed to be adequate (she meant this in the way that this loss is so big).  I told her that I could feel her trying, and that I was grateful for it.

I told her that I know that at our age, not a lot of people have experienced loss.  That if something happens to an older person, that their support group has experience with it.  In that moment, just saying the word loss made my tears go from puddles in my eyes to streams down my face.

I told her that I feel like people don't realize that this isn't just a miscarriage.  I could get past that a lot easier, but this was... and then my voice cut out.  If I had kept talking it would have just become a loud sobs.  I didn't want to draw the attention of everyone in the room.   All I could do was gesture with my hands, things stacking up.   She said for me,  "this is a compound loss".   She's a social worker and knows the terminology.  I shook my head yes.

I cry again just thinking about those words.  Compound loss.  That has been our last six years.

I said that I'm at a point where I don't have much emotional energy left.  That I know some friends are just for casual fun, but some are supposed to be more.  That I thought that these were some of my 'more' friends.   That if they aren't my 'more' friends than I just need to know, so I don't build resentment towards them.

I told her that this is not a problem that is unique to them.  I reminded her about the conversation that I had with my sister this year.   I said that we knew embarking on this past cycle, that this could be really hard on us.  That we purposely opened our circle up a bit wider, to fill more people in on what was going on, because we knew if we got more bad news that we would need more support this time.

I told her that I need less kid talk if we do this weekend.  Not an absence of kid talk, I don't expect that, just less.  She suggested that we don't need to do the weekend, or we could focus on smaller groups.

I told her that in a way I would view the weekend as a bit of a test.  That if there wasn't more sensitivity that maybe it will be time for me to step away from the group for a couple of years.  I regretted almost instantly saying this part.  It was too much, but at this point stopping my emotions was like trying to use tinfoil to cover up an impending volcanic eruption.

I told her I knew that this anger could be just the grief talking.  She reassured me that my concerns were real.  That she thinks it is that people don't know what to do, not that they don't care.   I told her I wasn't expecting much more from them, just maybe another message.  I don't know.  Something.

I apologized for dumping this all on her.  But honestly, I felt bad for the awkwardness and the timing, but not for the information.

I thanked her for listening.   I gave her a hug and she cried more.   I know she feels some of our sadness.  And while I never want my friends to hurt, knowing this is somehow a big comfort.

It was time to go home.  By now I'm sure the men knew something was going on, if not from our quiet words,  but from our red puffy faces.  They knew, but they didn't say anything.

We got in the car and as we rounded the corner from their house, I started sobbing.

I worried and stewed about the events of the evening into the early hours of the morning.  Replaying the conversation in my mind.  Wondering if I said too much or if it was inappropriate.   This brought on a huge headache and a nice dose of insomnia.  Somehow at 3:00 am,  I even managed to break out in hives all over my hands and wrists.  Grief spots.  That's a new one for me.

Regarding the letter, I appreciate your continued support and really I appreciated hearing your honest opinions.

Two things are themes from the comments.  First, that I can't pretend that this is not an issue for me anymore.  I've been using that strategy for six years and it's not working anymore.  Secondly, that sending a blanket letter may not be the best approach because I have different relationships with each one of them.

I know that writing letter and reading your comments really helped me.  It helped me to clarify my thoughts, allowing me to have the conversation last night.  While it wan't perfect, I think it was a huge step in the right direction.  My hope is that my BF will take this information, and help me spread the word.

I'm thinking now that I don't hear from them in a meaningful way, over the next few days, I may decide to cancel the weekend. That will be their message to me about what kind of friendship they are able to have, and want to have with me.  I will let them know it's because we are still grieving and aren't feeling up for company.

Re-reading this post has made me feel much more grateful for my BF.  I sent her a thank you email and told her how I appreciated her and everything she has done to support us through this journey over the years.

My draft letter. Looking for your feedback.

I'm thinking about sending this letter to those friends.  What are your thoughts are on it?  How would you feel if you received this letter (if you were a fertile)? What should I take out or add?

Honestly, I'm not sure if I have the courage to send this.  It leaves me feeling very vulnerable.  I don't want to alienate or anger these friends.  It's hard to know when to listen to the little voice telling me to stop.  Is she being a coward or saving me from more grief?

  

                            **********************************************************

This week, my feelings were hurt.  I hate to admit it, and it's uncomfortable for me say anything about it.  But I feel I need to. 

As you know, two weeks ago, D and I suffered another deep heartbreak when we lost our fourth baby.  

I know that every loss is different, and everyone copes differently.  And things could be so much worse.  For us however, this new loss just adds salt into an already very big wound.  After almost 6 years of failed fertility treatments and losses, we have learned that (for us), the grief of infertility and loss is compound.

We are exhausted, discouraged and feeling very isolated in this experience. 

While we hope the road ahead from here will be a smooth one to parenthood, we know all too well that this may not be the case. There could be more rough road ahead.  We are very scared, especially because this journey has already left us so low. 

I know we want to be there for each other, because we do things like we did for E and K this week.   Seeing the support for them made me happy, but it also made me yearn for a little more of that myself.  Of course, I'm not asking for flowers.

After hearing our news, some of you reached out right away.  And it was genuinely appreciated.  That first week was filled with nothing but pain and tears, and a message was the perfect thing.   The week after, though, I heard mostly silence, and it makes me sad.  I wonder if it is because I have not communicated in the past how devastating this has all become? 

I don't expect anyone to say or do something to make us magically feel better.  Because trust me - I know there is no magic pill, only time, a listening ear, or a quick note to tell us you are thinking of us.   

I'll sign off by sharing this video that shows a glimpse of what infertility is like.  If I could, I would add something about to the video loss, because for us, infertility is only half of the equation.   

http://www.tearsandhope.com/emptyarms_video.html

(This video won't work on an iPhone.)

Love,

Julia

PS) 

I wrote this for something else, but thought I would share it with you too.

7 years trying

Countless tests

8 procedures

5 surgeries

5 canceled cycles

8 months off for stroke rehab

2 donor embryo families

1 failed egg donor relationship

1 homestudy completed and updated again 2 years later

1 adoption agency, we are a "family in waiting"

3 pregnancies and 1 chemical

1 set of twins, lost

1 singleton, lost

1 singleton, after hearing a longed-for heartbeat.

Update on the friend situation

I have read and re-read your comments from yesterday.  Thank you for taking the time to say something.  It really helped to know that I am not alone in this.

It also has given me some more things to think about regarding how I am going to handle this.   I'm still letting it all marinate as I try figure out what to do.  I want to talk with D more about it too.  I will let you all know what I decide.   I welcome any of your continued thoughts.

To add to this story though, yesterday two things happened in this particular friend group.

The one that I told about my miscarriage (not my best friend), reached out to see how I was doing last night.   Hallelujah!!  She listened.  It was such a relief.  It was like a weight lifted off my shoulders.

She then told me that her mother had been very sick and in the hospital this past week (but will make a full recovery).  I listened to her about this, let her talk until she seemed to get it all out.  Asked her questions, expressed my empathy for the situation.  I felt like we both were there for each other.  It was good.

I know this is what kept her from calling me sooner.  She has a lot on her plate, and I understand.  I feel better about my friendship with her.

While talking to her, I had in the back of my mind that I wanted to hint to her to share with the others just how difficult this is for me.

At the end of the call, she told me to call her anytime.  I told her that it was hard for me to do that.  I said that I appreciate that everyone says that, that it is very kind.  But the reality is, is that it is very hard for me to call someone up who busy with their kids and work life and just this all dump on them.   She said she will call back in a few days.

Today, someone else sent a group message on Facebook.  It asked if everyone wanted to send flowers because of our friend's sick mother.  We have not sent flowers in the past for anyone else's parent that has been in the hospital.

It shows me that they want to be good friends to each other, but in this case, they really just don't get it.

I've got some more thinking to do.

Feeling pissy about some of my friends

Some of my friends and our family have come through on the empathy and support department.    Especially when they first heard the news of what had happened.  Kind words flowed in, and they lovingly expressed that they were "there to talk whenever".  At that time, I didn't feel like I could form a sentence through my tears.  I thanked them, and tried to leave the conversation open.

I hoped that maybe after some time had passed, that they would have reached out with a call, or sent a card.  Very least, sent a text to check in.

I am disappointed in those who haven't.

I feel like even saying this makes me ungrateful for the people have shown up for us.  I feel like a  hypocrite, because I knew in advance that not everyone would behave the way I hoped.   I thought that I would be able to wash the bad down with the overflowing good.

That isn't exactly how things have gone.

There are a few people that have not reached out and it's very hurtful to me.   I try to remind myself of how busy they are, about how they may not realize that this is such a big deal.   I try to remind myself about how we have so much more support in general this time, because we have shared our journey more widely.

Today, though, I'm feeling angry, and very, very sad.   It's like my grief has pointed a laser beam onto the unpleasant truth that some people in our lives have NOT shown up.

Today, despite knowing how ugly it sounds, I am saying "Fuck those people that are too busy with their beautiful little families to spend five seconds of their lives seeing how we are.  Don't they know how traumatic this is?"

I don't think they get the pain and grief that is associated with everything we have been through.  How could they, I guess?  I've never spelled it out.  I'm their only chronically infertile friend, so I don't think they are getting a sense of things from anyone else.

I wonder angrily, if they think that a person who aborts baby in the toilet for the third time after six years of bad fertility news, just easily slips back to feeling like herself?  Do they think it's not a huge, life changing ordeal to have gone through all of this bullshit?  Do they not realize that this has affected our lives in so many ways - socially, spiritually, economically, physically, mentally?  Do they know isolating this experience is, and how absolutely deafening their silence is? 

I know it's probably mostly my grief talking.  It's seeping out and trying to poison otherwise healthy, longterm friendships with these thoughts.  It's trying to encourage me to say things that I will regret, share feelings that I should have left bottled.

I don't want to be a person that habitually dumps on their friends.  And honestly,  I haven't been that person.  I've gotten this far without doing that.  They don't know that this loss feels different, the wound is deeper, everything about it stings more, because they haven't asked.

I think about a weekend gathering that we were planning at the end of May.  I was going to host 5 of these friends at our place.  These are people that I lived with for four years in university and have kept in touch with for 15 years.  I consider myself close with all but one of the women, and I think they would say the same.  One of them is my best friend.

At the gathering, I was planning on telling them that I was 15 weeks pregnant.

Instead, a few weeks ago, I told my best friend, and then another one of them about the miscarriage.  She asked if I wanted her to tell the others.  I said yes, please.

I wanted to share with them what had happened so I could have their support.  I wanted to share because I didn't want to tell them at our weekend together.  I want their help now, when I need it the most, and so we could focus on just enjoying our weekend together.

Aside from my best friend, I got two texts back.  Ouch.

And while I know my best friend cares deeply, I feel disappointed in her too.

I find myself imagining this supposed to be special weekend, now that there has been so much quiet surrounding all of this.

I'm torn between thinking that I shouldn't need to burden them with my problems, and on the other hand, feeling upset about their silence.

Part of me just wants to cancel the weekend.  Show them in a big way that I am not ok.

I think this is a situation where I need to decide if I a) want to give up and accept their lack of support; telling myself that I guess we aren't that close anymore or b) discuss the situation now by making contact with them or c) dampening the mood that weekend by spelling out just how devastating this has been to us or d) do what I've always done in the past and just suck it up, and pretend like everything's peachy.

What should I do?  I don't know how much is too much to expect from them.  I can't tell what is reasonable right now, which is why I won't be doing anything for a little while regardless.

I would like to think that if one of them was down and out, that we would rally around her - support her, find ways to be there.   I know I would want to do that for them.

All I want is to be asked, "how you doing?", or "what this has been like for you?" And for them to sit back and have a good long listen.

I guess that's exactly what I do in this place, and what you do for me.   Thank you so much.   I am grateful once again, for you beautiful gentle people.

Randomness: cycle update, a friendship story, and not-so-sexy time

Yesterday's results:

Lining - 9.6mm (they wanted over 7.5mm).
Estrogen - 767 (they wanted over 300).
Progesterone - 0.2 (they wanted low so this is good).

I am so happy about these numbers! I'm breathing a sigh of relief.   Sort of.

In my very next breath I also realize I'm feeling more anxiety starting to creep in.  What if this all doesn't work out?  I'm trying not to let my mind go there.  Yet - I know it will be hard to stop it, especially during my 2WW.

                                                      ****************************

A couple of days ago, I had a conversation with my best friend that left me feeling a little flat.  On one hand, I feel like it was nothing.  On the other hand, I'm feeling slightly annoyed and misunderstood, and surprised that I'm feeling this way.

The conversation we had was about our home study.

At the last minute, our social worker (SW) was debating if she needed to add something to our report that I feel is unnecessary.  It would require at least two days of her time and a lot of mileage and other expenses.  It would result in a delay in finishing our update.  This update has been dragging out since the end of October, a much longer timeframe than was originally promised.  We're ready for it to be completed.

The SW wants to go visit our cottage to do a safety check.

At first, when she announced this,  I thought she was joking about needing a vacation.  So I said, "Sure! Come anytime, you're always welcome!".  Then, she told me she would call the Ministry to see what their requirements are.  She told me to hope that she got a particular person on the phone instead of her more strict coworker, who would definitely say a visit was required.  Ummm.  Okay? Not joking.

That was a week ago and I haven't heard anything more on the topic.  I don't even feel like bringing it up again, secretly hoping she'll forget.

If she decided to complete the visit, (and I don't figure out a way to get out of it), we would ask her to stay with us overnight.  This would be due to the distance, and location.  And to be nice.  I think she would accept the offer.  The silver lining of doing this might be that she may get to know us better and think of us more readily for any suitable adoption matches that cross her desk.

When I write that out it sounds like bribery.  Not trying to bribe.  Just trying see the silver lining.

After telling my friend (a different kind of SW) the story, she stood up for her.  She said that maybe she needed to do it to cover all of her bases in case things had to go before the court.  She didn't find it unreasonable.

Ok.  Valid point, on the courts, I suppose. Maybe I'm just being sensitive.

Then I realized, what I was looking for was to commiserate a little bit about the whole process with my friend.  To be understood.

I feel like this is one more thing to add on top of an already very expensive and lengthy process.  It will be stressful for me to host her, even though she's a very nice lady.  I feel disgruntled that I have to prove myself over and over to get the same privilege that other fertile couples jump in the sack to get.

I feel like it is another invasion of our privacy.  I've already had enough.  I've answered questions like "How often are you intimate?" I'm tired of being judged.  That day, I gave an honest answer of "once or twice a week".  That number is embarrassing for me.  Hearing her ask D, "is that enough for you?" was down right humiliating.  (BTW, D said "yes", what a smart boy).

We're always answering questions but never feeling understood.  I could have elaborated more.  Yes, I'd love to have more sex. I'd love it to be like when we first were together.  However, we've been struggling with a reduced sex drive for a while.  5 years of coping with depression, grief, miscarriages, surgeries, scheduled abstinence for D to "produce a sample", and jamming hormone suppositories into my vagina yielding white or blue goo, has surprisingly, not been the recipe for more sexy time for us.   Go figure.

What I wanted from my friend was for to feel she understands.  I wanted a listening ear.  I wanted the conversation to include a question like "how are you two doing emotionally?"  It's the question I've been waiting to hear, and wanting to answer to almost everyone in my life.

So, instead, I ask myself and give my answer to you kind folks.  Today, I'm frustrated and grateful. Grateful for our test results this far.  And even more grateful for you.  Thank you for being there and listening to me.  This is one of the few places I turn when I'm feeling my most vulnerable.  Thank you so very much.  

Sending love to you.

A Letter

What would I write to my friends and family about our infertility journey?  What do I really want them to know?  What have I not been able to articulate to them in person that I want to tell them in a letter?  

Maybe something like this?

******************************************************************************
Hi Friends, 

We are grateful that you continue to ask us about what has been going on with our journey through infertility.  You've asked about what we've been up to lately and how we're doing.   We are thankful to have your support and to know that you are cheering us on.  

As you know,  it's been a long road for us to try to become parents.  It's coming up on 6 years of infertility and 7 years of trying.  It's hard for us to believe that after this time we're that we're still a family of two.  

We thought a letter would be a good way for for us to share where we are at right now.  We also want to share because now, more than ever we will need your continued support.  

We are entering into our final few attempts with our fertility treatments.  We are immensely thankful for a wonderful woman who has donated her eggs to us.  After these are gone we are expecting that this will be as far as we will go.   We are deeply scared and anxious of another negative result, and/or what third pregnancy loss would do to us emotionally.   Our hope of a successful outcome is quieted by our fear of knowing that if this doesn't work, it will be the heaviest emotional burden that we have faced yet.  We are "all-in" right now.  

On the adoption front, we are also in the thick of things, having just completed our home study update requirements and signed up with an agency.   We are preparing ourselves for the chance to welcome a child into our lives, while also being very cautious.  We know from the professionals that surround us  that finding a match could be very difficult.    While we are hopeful, we aren't feeling overly optimistic about our chances, especially because of how many couples are already waiting, and the declining number of adoptions each year.   

After trying so hard for so many years, we feel flattened by all of our unsuccessful treatments.  If we were to give a score of where we are at infertility-wise, I would say we are  a 3/10 emotionally.   The positives are that we feel confident that we are under the care of one of the best clinics in the USA and we are fortunate that we still have some savings left to pursue this option.  We know many people don't have this opportunity, and so we are grateful for this.   

Something we've learned about infertility is that at its core it is really about loss and grief.  We have been grieving since we learned our diagnosis, and we continue to grieve.  Infertility is like a wound that reopens before it has a chance to heal.  A new fresh loss such as a negative pregnancy test, a miscarriage, or other fertility setbacks usually just adds to the pile.  At its worst, our grief feels cumulative.  None of the individual scars are more than we can deal with, but all together they can be a very heavy burden.

I think some of you may wonder about whether it bothers us to discuss our infertility?  For the most part, we aren't afraid to discuss it.  This is in part because we are desensitized.  Infertility has put us in a position of sharing things with people that we never imagined. We have had to, and choose to talk about it regularly.  As a couple, we talk about it almost every day.  On difficult days, we talk about it many times throughout the day.  On the days when we aren't talking about it, it's usually not far from our minds.  It's important to us and talking about it and knowing you care helps.    

What is sometimes difficult, is the social situations that we find ourselves discussing it in.  Other than the facts and dates that go along with our story, this topic is a deeply emotional one for both of us.  This is the biggest struggle of our lives, and something we are hesitant to discuss at a lighthearted gathering.  We don't want to bring down the mood by sharing our burden.  Also, we enjoy breaks from thinking about our infertility too. 

Two other difficulties with of our infertility treatment are regular hormonal manipulation, and restrictions on our lives to make our treatments a high priority.   However one of the hardest parts of infertility is that it is a socially isolating experience.   

We are truly happy for those of you with children and we want to be a part of your lives.  We want to learn from your experiences in parenting.  However, sometimes it can be difficult for us to see the joys and difficulties of your parenting because we wish that we were experiencing those too.  The times that we find this is harder for us is when we are feeling emotionally vulnerable after a new loss or setback. When this happens, we have learned it is better for us to protect ourselves from these situations.   We know that you have been considerate of us in the past, and we thank you for this. 

Thank you for continuing to lend us your support.  We are grateful for your empathetic phone calls, prayers, emails and tokens to show us that you remember our struggle and that you are still here beside us.

Love, 

J & D 


PS) On the topic of donor egg, we ask that you keep this information to yourselves.  We are not ashamed of this.  However, if we are successful and have a child from these treatments, it will be their information to share.  We do not want the world knowing about this before our child gets to process this information, and decides to share it if they see fit.  We have trusted you and we are very serious about this.  Please do not mistake our casualness and comfort with you on the topic as permission to discuss it with other people.  Thank you for respecting our wishes. 



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What do you think?

I'm on the fence if I am going to send it.  Mostly leaning towards the don't send it side.

For the send it side - I want people to know this stuff.

For the don't send it side:
1.  I don't want to make anyone feel bad, especially my more sensitive friends.
2.  If this is all over soon and I get pregnant (if I say that 1,000 times fast will it help increase my chances?),  I don't want all of the attention that this might get me at the nail biting time of the first trimester.

It did take a load off my mind for me to gather my thoughts on the topic.  I think it will help me in the even that someone does ask me how I'm doing the next time?

Visit from my roomie

Over the weekend an out of town friend decided to see if myself and my best friend (who lives in town) would be up for a visit?  She said her kids were going to be with her mom.  We jumped on the opportunity! We all used to live together in university.  We had a great visit, and it was nice to catch up.  It was such a nice treat!

During the visit my friend told us that she had experienced a miscarriage in late November.  I really didn't expect to hear that she was trying again, but knew it wasn't something that was totally off the table for them.  They have 2 boys and mentioned in the past they may want to try for a girl.

It was interesting for me to be on the 'giving' end of an (real-life) infertility situation.  And for me to watch my best friend do so as well.   What was interesting to me was that my social worker best friend talked about it briefly, but when the first chance to change the subject came up she did. (Friend: "You guys didn't know but on our November shopping trip I was pregnant"… a couple minutes later BF: "I really got such great things shopping, I'm so glad we went…"  While this friend has done some very sweet things for me during my infertility journey it made me even more aware the shallowness of the conversations that often happen on the topic.

I brought the conversation back to the topic of miscarriage.  We talked about her husband's reaction to the news, her mother's and her friends.  We talked about hers.  She talked about how many people she know were announcing their June pregnancies.  It gave me a taste of how hard it is not to jump in with your own feelings on the topic and to know what to say.  It was humbling.

It surprised me how much I had to stifle my urge to want to dive into my own experiences.  I found myself comparing our feelings. I cringed a bit when I said "I so get how you are feeling".  Because even though I have had my own experiences, I still really didn't know what her experience was like.

My miscarriages experience couldn't have been more different than hers in many ways.  Mine were  after several years of infertility treatments, hers after two children.  Her feelings about the pregnancy were different than I expected (her doctor told her it was a grouping of "pregnancy cells" that formed similar to a growth.  She seemed comfortable with this explanation and didn't seem to view it as a loss of a baby (in a way), which was vastly different from my experience.

She talked a lot about how great her doctor was in supporting her.  She texted her to see how she was doing, and asked for updates.  She was grateful to have received such compassionate care that went above and beyond.

When the conversation turned to me, I had a hard time expressing myself.  This isn't a new reaction for me.  What is new is that lately I choke up and get teary and can't get many words out.  I hate it because I can't say what I want to say.   I would love to share just how heavy this burden has been for us.  I would love for people to have a glimpse, no actually, a good solid look into the emotional side of what our last six years have been like.

What usually ends up happening unfortunately is that I feel uncomfortable with the other person's discomfort.  Even though they have brought it up.  I'm usually able to gain my composure by talking about the timelines and more technical parts of how things are going.  After that, I try to change the subject.   I suppose it's because I don't want to add to my hurt by having them change the subject first.  I also am scared of what might happen once I open the floodgates.

I'm a big believer that if you stuff your feelings down for so long they will eventually find a way out.  That feelings don't stay hidden.  And when they do, it will probably be worse, which is where I'm at now.  Even though I know this, and I want to discuss it with my real life friends in greater detail, it never seems like the right time to break my silence.

I've often thought about writing a letter to my closest friends and family on the topic of our infertility experience.  I may do this one day, if I find the right words and the courage.

I wonder what I would write….

A little hope and gratefulness

I actually let myself look at a list of baby names last night. There's a teeny tiny little bit of hope is seeping in to my heart.  I'm scared to let it in, but it feels good.

Thank you for all of your words of support.  Your words fill the emptiness that that my friends and family leave behind.  I am so truly grateful for you, and your words.

This article really struck a cord with me recently on the topic of friendship and childlessness.  It's worth the read.

http://gateway-women.com/2013/12/18/best-friends-forever-with-childlessness-not-always/#comments

Wishing you all a good weekend during this busy time.