Run-on Sentence

This is not a post about grammar. Certainly not from a former business major.

I hate ambiguity. I hate 700 page books (although I read them anyway) because I want to rush to the end. I micro-manage my life to receive the biggest “bang for the buck”, in the least amount of time of course.  My usual mode is get from point A to point B.  It works for me.

My infertility journey, not so linear. Pretty much a never ending book.

My story is different than many that walked the path before me and alongside me.

There was no success, no “graduation”, no closing of a book in a defined timeline.  My journey ended with a big question mark followed by a …  as in, to be continued…  but for how long?

Some days I almost forget how I got here, and other days it hits me square in the face.  On the worst days I encounter a random event that feels much like a bandage being ripped off from a fresh wound.

A friend of mine is having a very complicated and extended ending to a miscarriage of sorts, similar to one of my losses years ago. It brings me back to a place I hate to go. Uncertainty, irony, sadness, anger, and impatience at the world. Oh, how I feel her pain.

Today is one of those days I am rolling in the muckity-muck. My heart feels raw for all of us that don’t get the happy endings and neatly wrapped gift… rather those of us who get the loosely wrapped present… paper ripped, tape falling off, bow askew. What the hell does one do with that mess?

For a long time I felt mad, and over the years I just could not shove it into the dark or bend the hurt and anger into something worthwhile. Sometimes when my guard was down, the feeling faded into the background, but it never really left. Just lurked out there, waiting. Unresolved.

I mean, my path is highly unusual. I get it. I have a son from some miracle of miracles and then the train went off the rails. Trust me, I know how fortunate I was.  Once.

But let’s get real- secondary infertility often drives odd judgement from others. I try to fly under the radar and brush the naysayers to the side.  I run into them often (and they are always fertile beings, ironically).

No, I am not always happy with what I have.  Does that make me a terrible human being?  No.  It means I am being truthful and allowing myself to feel the disappointment- and, without disappointment, the joys in life just don’t shine as brightly.

It’s okay really. But what stings the most is never knowing when “to be continued” turns into “The End.”

That sentence can be short, or painfully run on.

No ending in sight.

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It’s hard to take in a day like today being where I am in my life right now. This is the first time I’ve posted on this day as a woman that failed infertility treatment.

Past tense.

I am a face of recurrent pregnancy loss. I lost five opportunities to have more joy around our dinner table. Five dreams that will never come true. Each taking a little part of me with them.

Please keep those you love close to you today, and imagine your life if they weren’t here.

And hold them closer…

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What If

What if…

I can never be happy again?

Before the days of infertility, there were great days, excitement, opportunity, blue skies, and hope.

Today I am mired in a web of not-so-great days, anger, hopelessness, and jealousy.

It has been 6 months since I ended infertility treatment for good. That sounds a little freeing saying that. Because until recently, I didn’t know if I was REALLY done, or just standing at the crossroads biding my time. But I AM… it seems.

I am done.

Five years later, five miscarriages later, I wake up in the morning with the same thought, each and every day… just around the time I am staring into a mirror and putting on my makeup…

“Is this sadness ever going to leave me?”

I stare at the circles under my eyes that I never had before. I make peace with the fact that my face has aged ten years in five. I put down my mascara and walk into the third bedroom upstairs with an empty crib. The crib now better served as a storage space for junk. Just like my body.


I navigate though the work day as my island of peace. A  place where I can work, and work, and work and completely avoid personal conversations. It’s all business. I can put on a good face almost as if I did not have a care in the world. That, is, until a pregnancy announcement from a co-worker sets me over the edge…

I attend school functions with my only son. My “only”. I listen to the Moms with half an ear because I am not interested in the conversations of fitting in manicures between carpooling their multitudes of children.  I don’t want to see the look of pity on their faces when I answer “that” question…  “do you have any more children?”

My son asks why he doesn’t have a brother or sister. On a regular basis. I try very hard to explain the truth that an (almost) seven year old would understand.

It kills me a little more each time I say it.

I wonder if I can ever get back to that place before I became one of the millions of women affected by infertility.

I wonder if any of us will truly recover from the disappointment that plagues us. Even the lucky few that conquer the beast are never really the same.

Never the same.

I WANT to be happy again. I want to lie down at the end of a great day with that fuzzy feeling that all is right with the world.  I still can build my family in other ways.  Or, I can choose not to.  The reality is infertility cannot be the sum and total of me, or my decisions.  It cannot define any of us.

I can choose how to move on from this.

I want to enjoy life. I want to use what I learned through my experience to help others.

The aftermath cannot dictate that the journey was pointless.

Understand infertility: Visit Resolve.

National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW) is April 24th through May 1st: Take Charge.

Want to read about others “What if’s?”:  Connect @ Project IF.

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Fix Me

If you thought the last post was a bit snarky, it was meant to be. I won’t lie and say I had a wonderful New Years Eve. It was wonderful in that I spent it with the people I love the most, but the thought of another year at an end and no closer to completing my family was very, very sad. I was in a horrible mood. The whole day felt like walking The Green Mile… knowing that the new year was going to start no matter how much I kicked and screamed. There was no stopping it.

As Dick Clark kissed his sweet wife at midnight I blurted out “This year sucked!” and I proceeded to cry. A hug from S. was the only thing that mildly comforted me. Well, that and a couple of shots.

I woke up on New Years Day, still in a mood… reasoning with myself that there is much more to life than this ONE THING. This I know. I know it as certain as the blue sky, but yet it often feels like there is no room for any other emotion. All I can think about is the horrible luck I’ve endured, five dead babies and so many failures. Failing where others succeed without trying.

The holiday was a lot of reflection. A lot of hard thinking. I came to the conclusion that I must make it a priority to offload the the hurt, the anger, the disappointment. It’s eating me up inside, and when I look in the mirror, I see only a broken woman. How could that not affect the relationships around me? I just cannot live like this.

My husband and my son deserve a wife and mother who are PRESENT. Not hiding in the house and eating bon-bons.

How do I get out of this place when it took so long to get here? It’s been so long, I don’t remember the path back. All I see is a thick forest with goblins hiding behind trees and dark corners I dare not walk into. The mist is suffocating. There is only a glimmer of sky. The ground feels like quicksand… each step I take seems to get harder and harder to lift my feet.

I said I wouldn’t make any resolutions, but in the back of my mind I know that is not true.

I resolve to fix me.

The first step (the hardest) is admitting defeat.

Infertility, you win. I lose. I’m tired of your shit. Go do the happy dance and impregnate everyone else on earth but me. Leave me as the last piece of gum on your shoe.

Just……………leave me.

Step two is a big one, consulting a professional. The one I am most scared of because it means I need to reach out to someone else to do what I can’t by myself.

There is so much else to do in order to free myself from the issues that have spun out of control because of my infertility. There’s so much wrong right now I can’t think about it en masse otherwise it will become overwhelming.

So for now, this is where I start.

This is my new path.

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