Turn the page…
This blog has been a conduit to a piece of my soul—an inner view of my very raw emotions as I stumbled through one of the most trying times of my life. It began as a means to have people understand the realities that infertility brings and also to help people know that they are not alone in some of the most ugly and ridiculous emotions—there is normalcy in the insanity of it all, I promise.
My followers are all different—people battling with their own infertility; family and friends trying their best to comprehend; others dealing with their own isolated burdens. This began as my own little outlet, yet I know it has touched those combating their own issues in life. It means so much to me when I hear that my blog helped give people courage—they thought my strength was inspiring—when all I felt was fragile. I think sometimes not feeling alone in this world is all it takes to ease the load, even if only slightly. If putting my story and emotions out there helped one person, my mission is complete. Always remember, you are not alone. You are never alone.
So what now? My nest is no longer empty and this chapter must end. And though the page may be turned, the book will never be closed. This is a part of me—part of the person I am today and part of the parent I will become tomorrow. Though the pain may lighten, the memory will never, ever fade. My heart is wide open and the lessons are tattooed on my soul. I will carry them with me as I move forward into the joys and challenges of parenthood.
My grateful heart sends love and light to each and every one of you. Love, to give you peace, and light, to guide your way. Thank you for being here. May all of your deepest dreams become your realities.
Hang on tight. Never lose hope.
Many blessings,
Dana
ps…Who knows, perhaps I will publish my more detailed story one day.
…to be continued.
And then, a miracle happened
Once again I type through tears—only for the first time, they are tears of joy, of gratitude, of complete and utter relief and shock and a million other emotions. The time has come—the moment I have waited my entire life for—the moment I have tortured myself trying to get to…
I have finally arrived.
There is a little miracle growing inside of my womb as we speak and it is the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. This baby is more loved than love itself can give. This baby has been loved and longed for, for a lifetime really. This baby was more than wanted—it was wished for, dreamt of, and prayed for—by so many, for so long.
As hard as I try, I can’t even begin to describe the amount of emotion we feel. I use writing to express, but some things just cannot be put into words. The only words I keep repeating are THANK YOU. Thank you God for lending me this sweet soul. Thank you for guiding me forward when everyone else thought I should give up. Thank you for not letting me give up. Thank you for the strength you gave when I just couldn’t do it anymore. Thank you for the great friends you put into our lives to carry us when we were nearing the end of our rope. Thank you for finally hearing our prayers when I was convinced you weren’t listening. From the bottom of my heart and soul, thank you for this miracle.
Just let go…
I know I’ve been blogging less often lately. So where do I even begin? We had our 5th IVF cycle at the end of last year, which was cancelled at the very last minute due to my body being out of whack from the meds. We couldn’t go forward and so we went back—back to the never-ending waiting game after wasting all of that money. Hard to believe, but no, they do not refund you for the thousands of dollars of meds you took or visits and labs you had up to the point of a cancelled cycle. Nor do they refund your sanity. We were pretty beat down.
Our next cycle was in December. We made an agreement that it was our last. We discussed other options for our future. We just cannot continue to drag ourselves, or my body, through the torture of it all anymore. My life has been on hold for too long. It’s no way to live. We never did a transfer. We tried to give my body a break, though mentally, it’s never a break. We took some time off for the holidays and to go be with our families and would do our very first FET in the Spring.
One of our last chances.
We let go and surrendered. It was a daily practice of trial and error.
Trial and error.
Trial and error.
Until one day—finally—we just let go. We let go of the outcome and the struggle—we let go of trying to control. I guess we began accepting it as our fate and trying to find ways to live with it.
I think people often confuse letting go with giving up or being weak. To me, it is actually the opposite. Truly letting go takes more courage than I thought I was capable of. It means not only realizing that we have no control, but more so, accepting that realization—being ok with it. I realized a long time ago that we are not in control of our destiny. Ultimately, our karma must be fulfilled or our souls will continue to return until that lesson is complete. But boy did I fight it!
It wasn’t until I accepted and surrendered, that I began to break free from the struggle. The weight—ever so slowly— began to lift. Letting go is not to be confused with happiness. The two are not equal. You can let go, but still be sad and heartbroken. To get rid of that sadness would mean tackling desire, and well, that’s a whole different beast.
My yoga master would often tell me to detach from the outcome. Her words always played on my mind, but I never really understood it’s meaning, until I lived it.
And so we just let go.
I Don’t Want Children.
Don’t let the title confuse you.
I know most of my blog followers are those who are in some sort of fertility battle. I know we all have that yearning that burns so strong and no matter how much you try to put it out, it just gets brighter until it burns right through to your core and becomes your identity. It leaves you with empty arms and confused about who you are in the world. I know this all too well.
But what about women without that desire?! Jealous, right?! Lately, I have met several amazing women who are older and never had children or are young and just do not have the longing to be parents. It’s honestly completely refreshing to meet people like this and know that it’s not all consuming like it feels sometimes. And their lives are something most people dream of but often forget when they become parents because there is not enough time, or money, or it is just too hard.
I realize the pressures these women must feel and the intruding questions they too must get asked—to have to constantly explain and defend themselves because people cannot imagine not wanting this. I couldn’t imagine it because my need is so strong, but I can definitely understand it and I have so much compassion for it. They are like our polar opposites—yet just the same—in fighting their own battle and struggling with their own decisions.
These women are actually inspiring. To have that lack of desire is something I so often dream of through this process. I know it’s impossible not to have it—as I believe it’s something you are practically born with—but I hope that it moves you to know these women are out there, and they are amazing!
Excellent article from the other side… I Don’t Want Children.
The after life…
Well said…
Infertility is defined as the inability to conceive after a year or more of unprotected intercourse. It isn’t a disability, because you don’t technically need to have children to live a healthy life. For me, infertility is more like a low-level, lifelong bio-psychosocial syndrome. ~Shelagh Little
My spirit baby.
I have been attending yoga training to go deeper with my practice, which has been an incredible, and often life changing experience. It is a kind and loving community of people and I am so utterly grateful to have this in my life. I have been going to this studio for a while now, and every single day I go there, I feel so at home.
The past few days, I chose to attend an elective of pre/post natal yoga. My girls called me crazy, my husband thought it was like throwing myself into a pack of wolves. Both were probably right. But this is something I want to learn for myself and for others. I envisioned it being a class of big bellies—and then me—me and my hormone induced bloat, but empty womb. I was anxious putting myself into this kind of situation that had so much potential to be painful, but I knew I had one girlfriend who would be attending with me that was also not pregnant. I wasn’t going to be alone—well, at least not until she told me before class that she is, in fact, now pregnant—6 weeks, first time trying the natural way. She has no idea how blessed she is. Like all of us starting out, you just sort of expect it to happen. I know it’s where I am in life and partial attraction, but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the amount of pregnancies and babies that surround me. I embrace them all but sometimes I just really want to crawl in a hole and cry—WHY?!!! Why me? Will it ever be MY turn? I will never understand, but somehow can’t give up questioning the bigger meaning.
Brave or stupid—I attended the class and did the best I could. Of course it’s a subject I have so much interest in so it kept me focused. We discussed bringing the soul in and how little spirits are out there waiting for their time to come into the world and how they choose parents that will help fulfill their karma. How cool.
side note/ I have been to physics and spiritual healers over the years and each and every one has told me how I have little spirits all around me just waiting for their time. It always gave me such peace to know that. I like to think that they are still out there. They are just waiting on the other side for the right time. I dream of the day we are united in the physical world. /side note.
The instructor talked about pregnancy and the birthing process and the different options we will have as to how we choose to bring our baby in. As the other women cringed, I sat there longing for the day I can experience it all. After everything I have gone through, I really have no fear. I have gotten so used to things being out of my control. She talked about the energy exchange between a mother and her baby. I prayed that the energy my child absorbs will be that of peace and joy.
When it came to the asana section, I had to wear a pillow up my shirt to experience what it is like to practice asana with a belly in the way. No girl in the world, in her right mind, has ever prayed for a big belly more than me. In savasana, we had to place a hand on our heart and one on our belly to connect with the baby. I tried to communicate with my spirit baby, but the pain rushed over me like a hot wave crashing throughout my body. It was just too much.
The tears came—flowing down my face and onto my fake pregnant belly. There was no baby there. I wonder if there ever will be.
IVF Baby Boom
While it is really great that more and more people are “talking” about fertility treatments, not enough are talking about it from the battlefield, and the information is very often skewed.
This article mentions that the odd’s are dependent on a woman’s age. While this is true in some cases, there are also tons of other issues—PCOS, endometriosis, male factor and the dreaded category of unexplained—to name a few. Also, eggs do not necessarily equal age—you can be 40 with a high egg reserve or 30 with a low. It’s all over the map. While it’s easy to point the finger at women waiting longer to pursue other dreams, I do not think this is the main reason for IVF to be on the rise. I think we are going to see it more and more as the years go by and at all ages. I am seeing it already amongst the small group of people I know. It’s sad really. It makes me wonder if men and women should test their fertility in their early 20s just to get an idea of where they stand and to better prepare for their future.
$12,400 for an average cost? Did they forget about the $3-5k you spend on drugs or the $5k+ you spend for genetic testing? Among all the other miscellaneous costs? And they forget to mention that most insurance companies do not cover anything. Ours doesn’t even cover the diagnostic testing. I have never known anyone to pay such a small amount.
And that is great that they are decreasing the rates of multiples—it really is—but don’t they know that twins are an infertile couple’s dream?! 
“In 2012, doctors performed the most procedures and delivered the most IVF babies.” I was certainly in the first portion of that statistic, however, we are still patiently waiting for our baby to come into our lives.
Infertility today might be similar to how it was to be gay many years ago. It was all hush-hush and many people felt ashamed that they felt “different”. No one talked about it. It was forced to be a big secret for so many and that created confusion and pain. Today people are more open and it is more accepted. It’s a beautiful thing—though there is still a long way to go. And we will get there with infertility too. The more people to understand it, the more embraced it will become. People that commonly pass judgement or opinions are usually ignorant to a situation. They just don’t know.
My tiny role in bringing infertility up in my life was starting my blog and being so open and vulnerable with others. Since I have, I can’t tell you how many people have come forward and opened up to me. People that kept quiet for so long because it wasn’t socially acceptable to discuss. I only hope that one day we can all come out of the infertility closet in our own ways.
All you need is love.
We get tired of pretending so it’s easier to isolate. Tired of trying to make it all seem okay when it’s anything but. To put on a fake smile, fake laugh, fake enthusiasm is just plain fucking exhausting. Pardon my language. I questioned the other day why we did this detachment of sorts. Why would we ‘pretend’ to our friends and even family that we are holding it together? Why ‘fake’ it when it just depletes us of the little energy we do have?
We know it’s been hard for our loved ones to watch us go through this nightmare and feel so utterly helpless. Trust me. It breaks our hearts to think that we are inadvertently causing that. We know it’s difficult when people just don’t know what to say anymore. We can hear the pain in their voices. But like any other disease, we didn’t choose or cause this. None of us did. For some strange reason—reasons we may never know—we are in it. And we’re in it deep.
We put on this front to try to protect our friends and family from our pain. As much as we want them to know what it feels like so that we could be better understood, we know that isn’t possible.
I will be honest in saying that half the days, we don’t know what it is we want or need. We have left social situations feeling like crap and not because of anything that happened, but because of what didn’t happen. I know some people intentionally do not ask us how we are—trying to make us feel “normal”—as if this all isn’t happening. The intentions are well meant, but sometimes ill received. What they don’t understand, is that it never, ever leaves us. We never feel normal. It’s there on our minds as we hear how your job is going, how your vacation went, how your kids are doing in school, if your baby is sleeping at night. Everything is a reminder of how our lives are so “not normal” right now. Sometimes people dance around our situation like we are an awkward and depressing subject. And I guess we are. It’s very uncomfortable for most. They just don’t know how to handle the heaviness of this all—and frankly, it’s a learning for all of us. We are learning to accept these limitations and focus our energy on the support that is provided rather than being hurt trying to get it where it isn’t. It’s a really hard lesson for all in the infertility world because you might consistently feel let down.
What is it you need from others, when there is really nothing they can do to make anything better? We have discussed at length what it is we want that others can give us. While we cannot define it, we recognize it when it feels good. There’s certain people—perhaps people that have had burdens of their own—that just always seem to know the right thing to do or say. They effortlessly give comfort and support as if they somehow know what is needed. It’s usually those that know a deep pain themselves.
People we haven’t spoken to in a long time have stepped forward and offered to care for us in so many ways. Whether we take them up on that or not, it feels good to be loved. It feels good to know others have compassion for our situation even when they don’t know the depths of it. We have been so touched by the simple kind gestures of people.
I know we might be confusing and depressing right now and that it’s hard, but we get it. It is what it is and we accept that. We just ask that everyone please bear with us. Listen closely for our disguised cries for help and comfort. Respect our situation. We need all the love we can get right now. And needing love is something everyone can understand.
Imagine.
I have been asked a lot of questions lately from people trying to understand what infertility feels like. I know it’s impossible though. If you haven’t walked the road, how can you feel the unstable ground beneath you?
One of my best friends recently crossed over to this world. She told me how she always truly empathized with me, but by no means understood the heaviness of it—until now. On the outside, it might seem somewhat dramatic. You cannot prepare yourself for the pain and heartache of this big a let down and you cannot fathom it until you live it.
It is this that leaves us disconnected from the rest of the world. From our own friends and family that tell us to ‘relax’ or ‘have faith’ or ‘just adopt’ or one of the other lines that well-meaning people blurt out because they themselves are lost—lost for words.
But it’s not pity any of us want or need. It’s the basic human need to just be understood. Which feels nearly impossible. So I try to explain the feelings in comparison of things some people do understand—related pain people have experienced.
Imagine losing a loved one (a parent, friend, cousin, etc)—every month—every time your cycle fails. That feeling is loss and grief. Grief has no switch. But it is a process one must go through at their own pace. And while you are still in the middle stages of it, or even nearing the end, you lose another one. The pain doesn’t get to fully go away and it feels like there is no end in sight. It just piles on.
That’s what it feels like. Only no one brings over a casserole and takes care of you while you mourn. You do it alone in your dark little hole that seems to grow smaller with each fail.
Imagine you are diagnosed with cancer or HIV. The major stress and emotional roller coaster you would go on—the fear you would have—the surgeries and medical procedures—the medicine—the financial burdens.
That’s what it feels like. And people will reach out in the beginning, but after a while, everyone sort of just seems to forget what you live each day. It fades for them, but you’re still sick every single day.
Imagine the deepest most beautiful dream you’ve ever had. Something that is attainable—something many people just expect—a strong desire that would cause you to cut off a limb to have it. And though the dream gets really blurred, your desire never leaves you.
That’s what it feels like. Only no one can relate to your dream or desire. Because it was decorated and colored in your heart and mind your entire life. It’s yours to live and ride out.
Imagine that you were infertile. Imagine that you tried for years and still had no one to hold—to nurture—to love. Imagine your children or nieces and nephews were not born. Imagine you lost them. Imagine you were at the end of your rope and hanging on by the last thread.
What would you do? How would you comfort yourself?
Every bad day has an end.
there will be bad days.
times when the world weighs on you for so long that it leaves you looking for an easy way out.
there will be moments when the drought of joy seems unending,
instances spent pretending that everything’s alright….when it clearly is not.
check your blind spot.
see that love is still there.
Be patient.
Every nightmare has a beginning, but every bad day has an end.
