Dear Infertility
Dear Infertility,
I hate you. My mother taught me that hate is a strong word, but in this case, it is completely appropriate and totally justified. I'm not one of those ladies who is writing a love letter to you, telling you how you have taught her how strong and smart she is. I'm not writing a thank you letter either, since I'm not thankful for you at all.
Infertility, you are cruel. You are a huge part of my life that virtually no one understands. The taboos that persist around you mean people don't see why infertility is something that affects every part of my life. People don't think you are an illness, a disease. No, because of the silence that accompanies you, people still believe you are a choice.
In fact, you have done such a stellar job of being a quiet monster that people believe you aren't truly real. They think if I "stop trying" you will be defeated. They really think if I "just adopt" you will go away. They offer up the wisdom you have helped foster that "just relaxing" is a time-tested cure for infertility. The general public sees you as the monster under the bed. If those of us who are infertile would just quit thinking about you, you would go away from our nightmares and our lives.
But, Infertility, I know those lies you spread aren't true. I know that sitting idly by does nothing but wastes more valuable time for me and my possibility of having a family. I hate you for making me count the days, the hours, the minutes until the next treatment cycle. I hate you for making me weigh dollars versus dreams. I hate you for changing my perspective on everything, bar none.
I hate you, Infertility, for the things you have done to so many remarkable women. You make us spend our life savings for the sliver of hope you dangle in front of our faces. For some, that is the way to defeat you, to preserve in spite of you. It's how we get our miracles that are forged through love and science. For others, you seem to show us the miracle we search for, to make us believe we have defeated you. But you, in your horrible cruelty, rip away through some of the most heartbreaking methods imaginable.
For me, Infertility, you have been a nemesis that has thwarted me at every turn. Just when I think I have found a way to get past you, I find out I have failed again. But, I don't hate you just because you have prevented me from getting pregnant. No. I hate you for many more reasons that go far beyond whether or not I ever have a child.
I hate you because you have made me doubt myself. You make we wonder if I am supposed to be a mother. You make me question whether or not I am good enough or have tried hard enough to beat you. You make me question myself in a way that I never thought I would. You have transformed me into someone I don't even recognize. You make me question my femininity, my sanity and nearly everything I ever thought I knew about myself.
I hate you because you have made me bitter. You have made me unable to attend a baby shower without fighting back tears. You've made me green with envy every time I see a pregnant woman perusing the shelves at Target. You've made a lump rise up in my throat every time I see a toddler or infant snuggling close to his or her mother. Because of you, Infertility, I am forever changed and I don't know if I'll ever be able to go back.
Maybe someday I will feel grateful for you, Infertility. Perhaps I will see the strength you brought out in me. Maybe I will feel the victory I will accomplish in spite of you. Maybe I will see truth you made me see.
But maybe I won't.
You see, Infertility, the only way I will know the nature of our relationship will be in retrospect. But, I don't think I'll ever like you. I won't ever love you. Maybe I will grow to better understand you, but even that seems unlikely.
Yes, Infertility, I hate you. Someday I might made peace with you, but I will never be your friend. I will conquer you or put you behind me, but I will never lose my hatred toward you.
I hate you. My mother taught me that hate is a strong word, but in this case, it is completely appropriate and totally justified. I'm not one of those ladies who is writing a love letter to you, telling you how you have taught her how strong and smart she is. I'm not writing a thank you letter either, since I'm not thankful for you at all.
Infertility, you are cruel. You are a huge part of my life that virtually no one understands. The taboos that persist around you mean people don't see why infertility is something that affects every part of my life. People don't think you are an illness, a disease. No, because of the silence that accompanies you, people still believe you are a choice.
In fact, you have done such a stellar job of being a quiet monster that people believe you aren't truly real. They think if I "stop trying" you will be defeated. They really think if I "just adopt" you will go away. They offer up the wisdom you have helped foster that "just relaxing" is a time-tested cure for infertility. The general public sees you as the monster under the bed. If those of us who are infertile would just quit thinking about you, you would go away from our nightmares and our lives.
But, Infertility, I know those lies you spread aren't true. I know that sitting idly by does nothing but wastes more valuable time for me and my possibility of having a family. I hate you for making me count the days, the hours, the minutes until the next treatment cycle. I hate you for making me weigh dollars versus dreams. I hate you for changing my perspective on everything, bar none.
I hate you, Infertility, for the things you have done to so many remarkable women. You make us spend our life savings for the sliver of hope you dangle in front of our faces. For some, that is the way to defeat you, to preserve in spite of you. It's how we get our miracles that are forged through love and science. For others, you seem to show us the miracle we search for, to make us believe we have defeated you. But you, in your horrible cruelty, rip away through some of the most heartbreaking methods imaginable.
For me, Infertility, you have been a nemesis that has thwarted me at every turn. Just when I think I have found a way to get past you, I find out I have failed again. But, I don't hate you just because you have prevented me from getting pregnant. No. I hate you for many more reasons that go far beyond whether or not I ever have a child.
I hate you because you have made me doubt myself. You make we wonder if I am supposed to be a mother. You make me question whether or not I am good enough or have tried hard enough to beat you. You make me question myself in a way that I never thought I would. You have transformed me into someone I don't even recognize. You make me question my femininity, my sanity and nearly everything I ever thought I knew about myself.
I hate you because you have made me bitter. You have made me unable to attend a baby shower without fighting back tears. You've made me green with envy every time I see a pregnant woman perusing the shelves at Target. You've made a lump rise up in my throat every time I see a toddler or infant snuggling close to his or her mother. Because of you, Infertility, I am forever changed and I don't know if I'll ever be able to go back.
Maybe someday I will feel grateful for you, Infertility. Perhaps I will see the strength you brought out in me. Maybe I will feel the victory I will accomplish in spite of you. Maybe I will see truth you made me see.
But maybe I won't.
You see, Infertility, the only way I will know the nature of our relationship will be in retrospect. But, I don't think I'll ever like you. I won't ever love you. Maybe I will grow to better understand you, but even that seems unlikely.
Yes, Infertility, I hate you. Someday I might made peace with you, but I will never be your friend. I will conquer you or put you behind me, but I will never lose my hatred toward you.
Infertility can be very challenging. People have all kinds of 'good' advice, but it really doesn't help, does it? I'm sorry to hear it's such a tough journey for you. Praying that God may bless you with your little miracle really soon. Love to you.
ReplyDeleteVery, very true. I can appreciate that I am stronger because of infertility, but I sure as hell don't thank infertility for it. I thank myself, and my husband, because we are the ones who persevere through this situation. We don't have to be grateful to the situation for bringing these qualities that we already had to the forefront! :) It is very true that infertility changes you, and it becomes a part of who you are. Even after you have resolved your family building, in whatever way that looks for you. It may not control your every moment, but it is still a part of you. You are good enough to be a mother. You have worth beyond the physical capability to birth a child, even though at times it doesn't feel that way. Infertility really is a bitch. I hope you conquer it, in whatever way that looks for you. You can steal back some of the control and dignity that infertility thieves away from you, even if it's not in this moment but later. Thinking of you as you wade through this process!
ReplyDeleteThis is such a heartfelt letter to infertility and it resonates with me deeply on my own journey. Those platitudes that people say to those of us in the midst of infertility! uuurrrgghhh! I hate infertility too. I hate this journey. I would never have chosen it. I can say that I've learnt things along the way, but in all honesty, I'ld still rather have a baby! It has changed me. In some ways I hope for the better. I hope I've learnt to be more sensitive to others for example. I totally get the baby shower, others being pregnant feelings. So tough. If you've managed to get to a baby shower, you've done more than I have. I decided long ago to avoid them totally. That can be tough too because not everyone will understand. But we have to do what we have to do to survive. Likewise, I avoid mother's day at church. I struggle to know how to deal with being around newborn babies. All the focus, the comments. I want to hide. I hate that someone tells me they're pregnant and once I'm on my own (fortunately so far I've always managed to wait until I'm on my own) I cry and cry. I hate that I can't relax around babies and small children in public. I hate that I'm always alert, always on the defensive for the comments and questions that can come. Wishing you well as you continue on this journey.
ReplyDeleteIam ruby and iam planning to go for my first IVF cycle in March. i was pretty optimistic about the chances of having a positive outcome till lately but the more that i search in the net the more results iam getting is of failed IVF which is making me pretty nervous.
ReplyDelete