I Shall Be Me

Studies have shown the psychological stress experienced by women with infertility is similar to that of women coping with illnesses like cancer and HIV.  

Cancer looks easy to me right now.  There is no way to describe the pain.  It feels like a punch from a boulder.  In the stomach and the heart.   It is recurring, seared into your heart every minute.  It feels like something that is your right, that you are born with, has been taken away.  The anger.  There is so much anger towards every single person.  Everyone I look at, speak to, hear about…. I hate each of them.  Going about life, with no pain, no struggle.  Life is so easy for everyone else.  It is not fair.  Do not tell me “it will happen”.  You do not know that.  Each appointment, each question, each intrusive test, feels violating.  This was supposed to be private.  Sad.  So very sad.  My eyes fill with tears too often.  Mourning the loss of a life I had envisioned for myself.   The way things were supposed to be.  My baby was supposed to come from love, not paid for on credit cards I will never be able to pay off.  I wanted to go into life altering debt buying baby supplies.  Endless clothes and bottles.  Blindsided by the difficulty of trying to conceive.  An overwhelming sense of loss.  Life seems like it is spiraling out of control, yet on hold at the same time.  Denial.  Each month hoping for a positive result, followed by sadness.  The constant disappointment.  When will it turn around?  Is there a reason?  Anxiety increasing each day.  There are rarely days I can catch a full breath and feel healthy.  I am damaged.  Powerless.  Hopeless.  Immobile.

I don’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone.  Anything social comes with pressure.  Pressure to celebrate life, to enjoy it, to talk about it.  The difficulty is unbearable.  Leave me alone.

Come find me.  I need your support.  I need your empathy.  Acknowledge my feelings, my despair.  Sit in it with me.  Let me talk, let me cry, let me be me.  If you have not been through it, do not say you understand.  I am a good person, I could be the greatest mother of all, yet can’t get pregnant.  You simply do not understand.  I am kicking, screaming, and crying.  Pull me out of it.  Help me focus on the positive.  Yes, I am dealing with infertility.  Thank God I am able to see good doctors.  I’m so fortunate to have my husband.  

I say this prayer many times throughout each day.  Am I being heard?

Dear God:  I thank you for my home, my food, my car, my health.  I thank you for the good health and fortune of my family.  I thank you for my Steve and our love.  I pray to you that you will continue to keep my family safe and healthy.  Please help each of them lead a life full of health and love.  I pray that you guide Steve to happiness and fulfillment in a career.  And lastly, I pray to you that I become pregnant with a healthy baby. Amen.

My eyes pop open at 3:30am each night.  There is no transition from the vivid dreams of the beach to the scary reality of infertility.  It happens faster than a knife can cut air.  Wide awake, my brain unable to slow down. Thoughts overlap each other and create new thoughts.  I can keep up, though.  ”Do not stop thinking” I tell myself.  ”You have not thought of all the possibilities and solutions that exist.”  Do I have endometriosis?  Are my tubes blocked?  Is there treatment?  How could I ever afford treatment?  Will I have to file for bankruptcy in my future?  Will my husband get a job?  What kind of job should he get?  Will they have fertility benefits?  Will we go into so much debt that we will never be able to see the world?  Will we lose everything?  Will we gain everything?  What will my family think?  Do I have their support?  Will they ever try to understand?  What will happen with my job?  Should I get a new job?  That is a summary of 5 seconds of thoughts.  This goes on for hours.  I turn to Dr.  Google.  He must have the answers.  As his number one researcher, I get to work.  I search and read for hours until it is time to get up for work.  I am suddenly sleepy.  Doesn’t my day job know I work the night shift?