You know, I can track the
length of my fertility battle back to a phone conversation in January of
2015. My friend Jennifer and I were
getting online to buy early bird tickets to Outside Lands in August. I was all, “Let’s definitely get the tickets,
but just a heads up I’ll probably be super pregnant by then, so I may
need to sell mine.” So confident! So optimistic and excited! Even if it took me
a couple tries to get pregnant, I would still be too far along to dance and run
from stage to stage, so I was certain my festival days would hit the fritz. But fuck it, I’ll buy the ticket JUST IN
CASE.
I went to Outside Lands that
year. And you know what, I went the year
after that as well. And you know what, I
could’ve gone this year too.
Cause I’m still super NOT
pregnant. 100%, A+, highly UN-pregnant.
How did this happen? How have I wound up with nothing? IVF #4 just ended with the deafening sound of
emptiness. We did not produce any viable
embryos. Nothing to send for
testing. Nothing to transfer. Nothing to freeze. Just, nothing. And there is no sound more deafening in the
world than nothingness.
I can’t get my head around
it, this nothingness. I find myself
thinking often about that phone call in early 2015. I remember what it felt like to be so
hopeful, to be so sure that it would work.
Calculating potential due dates with each insemination. Taking notes on stroller types. Printing out “Top 10 must read books for
expecting moms.” Making a “Pregnancy”
bookmark folder with all of the online parenting resources I might need. I think about it now and I don’t have the
slightest idea how to reconcile that optimism with today’s results. I am finding myself, more often than not,
completely blank.
I constantly fight. I fight off feeling stupid for thinking it
would work so easily. I fight Anger and
Bitterness screaming at me that hard work doesn’t pay off. I fight Jealousy pointing at all the babies
and children that aren’t mine. I fight a
suffocating feeling of Failure and Inadequacy.
I fight the Sadness that wants to be alone with me, so we can listen to
the nothingness in my head. And I fight
Perspective, who reminds me constantly that I am not alone, that many have it
worse than I do, that I have so much to be thankful and grateful for...but to
whom I can sometimes only reply that I just feeling mother fucking sad.
Mostly, I am afraid that the
emotional heaviness and anger that have crept in to my life have found a
permanent home, and this is just who I am now.
That my enthusiastic, hopeful, optimistic heart has gone dark. But I can’t let that happen.
So I fight, and sometimes I
win. Sometimes I lose miserably. But
when I win, I know there is hope. There
are still options. Still things to try. I have the most amazing friends & family,
a heart full of love, a happy home. I have a lot to fight for. Even when I cry, I can still laugh at a
picture of Hank** through the tears. I
feel a lot of hope in that. And I wanted
to share my feelings. Because frankly,
googling “how fertility treatment has changed you” wasn’t really yielding
helpful results. Because, really,
doesn’t the Internet always just make you feel worse? So this is where I stand now. A bit beaten up. Convincing myself I am not defeated, and
searching for happy places to make me smile as I head to the plate for another chance. I don’t even know if the pitcher will pitch
to me. But if they do, I swear a homerun
is coming.
**Follow Hank:
@mybestfriendhank. You will not regret
it.
