Four years ago, in the throes of my infertility madness, I wrote this post. I stumbled on this past week again, and, (big sigh……..) it reminded me of that god-awful place. I felt lost, hopeless, and badly in need of others support. My blog became a godsend for me, I’ve said it many times, the internet rescued me when I was one foot off the ledge.
One of my very good internet friends posted a link to a story this past summer which pulled a long-buried trigger. A reminder that the only soul who really felt the same level of pain and misery was my husband.
- He was the guy that stuck with me through every doctors appointment.
- He was the guy that allowed our relationship to be monopolized by a 28 day calendar.
- He was my nurse who gave me daily injections.
- He was the guy that overlooked my bad days when I was being a bitch to him (which trust me, was a lot when I was hopped up on meds).
- He attended every vag-cam at the dreaded RE appointments when there was no fetal heartbeat to be found.
- He picked me up off the floor after the staggering losses, hugged me, and bought me carbs to curb the sorrow.
- He was the Dad to my son when I couldn’t always be the present Mom.
He deserves the biggest thank you in the world. Yet- he got the rawest of deals, he got infertility hell and only me to use as his outlet.
I had the internet.
Or should I say- all of the virtual sisters that walked in my shoes, raised me up, and helped me fall softly. For them, all of them, I am grateful and humbled by their support and compassion. Many of these ladies are friends to this day, and nothing will ever change that. Heck, I even have friends that I met on-line when I was pregnant with David in 2002 (speaking to you my TCOYF buds…Natalie, Nat, Melissa)! That’s 11 years ladies!
The fact that I spent 5 years in a hormone-drug-induced fog with no success has always been a sore spot. Ok… a gaping hole. I’ll admit here, yes, we ventured into adoption nearly 3 years ago, and failed there too (I’ll qualify as failed since I all but unofficially pulled the plug). The reality is no one picked us, and too much time has passed now. I am in a different state of mind. Yes, I am heartbroken, but I feel more confident today that I could not have done an ounce more to realize this dream. I gave my all out the universe. It has been 8 years since that first miscarriage, and the roller coaster ride of my life is finally coming to a stop.
I am done.
I am closing the book.
We are a family of three.
Over time, my internet sisters succeeded in miraculous ways though IUI, IVF, donor-assisted cycles, surrogacy, adoption and even a few surprises. Most now can look back to infertility as a horrible roadblock that they eventually navigated but will carry those wounds to the grave. I am elated for their successes (and a wee bit jealous). This journey ends differently for everyone. It is not always the end we envisioned, but it is what it is.
This is life.
Infertility changed me, and very unexpectedly in a positive way. I became self-aware, a quality which bled not just into my personal life, but my career as well with unexpected outcomes. I learned a lot about my own tenacity. I learned of my husband’s commitment. Living with infertility ignited my compassion for others. I found kinship and friends in the most unlikely places, I met a few angels along the way too.
And, of course, my miracle named David. His name means “beloved” among other things, and how fitting is that name he ended up with?
It’s funny, to have started this journey and to have come full-circle back to the start is tragic yet somewhat oddly ironic. I often think about what it would have been like if I had not walked this path. To be honest, I know I would have been a person I may not have liked. I would be a different Mom to my only son. A different wife to my husband.
And all those things I gained? I may have lived a lifetime and never found those gifts.
This blog is not closing, because the story continues.
Life continues, and all the heartache and hilarity that will ensue.
But this chapter? It has finally reached its conclusion.
and you… all are part of my story.