The Realization

So here it is. To make a long story short, 28 months, two miscarriages, one diagnosis of unexplained infertility, and one intrauterine insemination later, today I found myself sitting on the stoop of my stairs sobbing uncontrollably as a result of a blog post from a former classmate. It was about how this person didn't want kids, but had a change of heart in order to be with their spouse. Exactly one shot was all it took for them to conceive. This classmate and I were in the same spot at one point in our lives - definitively against having kids. We both changed our minds. This person change their mind and boom. Baby. We weren't so lucky. How is any of this fair?

Being diagnosed with unexplained infertility broke my heart. Basically, the doctor's don't know why we can't conceive children on our own - all of the plumbing works for both of us. Eons ago, not only was I not going to have kids, I was adamantly against infertility treatments. Being diagnosed with infertility caused me to do a lot of research, which changed my mind about fertility treatments. That being said, I still feel uneasy about being poked and prodded all in the name of conceiving a child. Especially when the chances of success hover around 10% per treatment.

I'm pretty sure this will be my one and only treatment. I haven't enjoyed the invasive procedures, nor the twice daily dose of progesterone that leaves me exhausted, overwhelmed, full of hot flashes, and emotional. So I find myself in this weird place. Everyone around me is having children. I see daily updates on Facebook from people I know or have known about their pregnancies, births, and children. I want kids, but I don't want to go through any more torture, either mentally or physically. This is it. If we're successful, then we hold our breath until after the first trimester, when the likelihood of miscarriage decreases significantly. My two previous miscarriages have demonstrated to me that nothing short of a full-term pregnancy ending in a live birth means anything.

If we're not successful, then that means that we won't have kids. My life is in complete limbo. Of those couples I know whom have undergone fertility treatments, they all have been willing to do anything to get their baby. I'm not in that same boat. In fact, of all the people I know, I know of only one couple whom found themselves in the exact same boat that I'm in. They wanted kids, but weren't willing to put themselves through the wringer to get them. It's a lonely group. I find myself having a hard time relating to my friends that have kids. I feel distanced from them. Like we have nothing in common anymore. As more and more of my friends have kids, I fear that I'll be in the same state with each of them.

If you've read this far, you're probably thinking "What about that realization?" Well, my realization is this: Whatever life holds, whether we have kids or not, I cannot let the latest news of someone expecting rule my life. I have only a handful of friends who never wanted kids. I suspect that a majority of our friends who do (hoping that they don't have fertility issues like we do) will start having them within the next couple of years. There's no denying that it hurts. But I have to find a way to be more productive with my time than sitting around feeling sorry for myself that we weren't among the lucky ones. It's time to pick myself up by the bootstraps and realize that my limbo has an expiration date - the day that aunt flo comes to town or that we learn we need to hold our breath for the next twelve (or forty) weeks.