by The Wannabe Mom
This week, infertility is in the air. But, don’t worry. You can’t catch it. At least I don’t think you can.
Stories about infertility are here, there and everywhere. In my Sunday paper (I can’t find the link online, but there was story in the Living Section of Sunday’s News-Gazette about mothers who appreciate Mother’s Day so much more after battling infertility), on blogs I read and on this very website.
I love it. I love it. I love it –said in my best Sally O’Malley voice– with a high-kick.
All these stories highlight a very familiar disease. They highlight the disease of infertility. And it is a disease.
It is a disease treated with medicine. A disease treated with science. Monitoring hormone levels. Taking pills. Administering injections. Measuring follicle-size. Monitoring sperm counts and motility. Timing insemination.
In my case it’s not treated with my hubby wearing boxer shorts instead of briefs. It’s not treated through relaxation. It’s not treated by weight gain—or loss.
If it was that simple to treat I’d have 10 kids by now, and so would the 6.1 million women in the United States currently undergoing treatment for infertility.
Our wait would be over. We would be able to breathe. We could start wishing for lottery jackpots and ponies instead of wishing for a child. We could stop feeling sorry for ourselves. We wouldn’t be depressed or tortured.
Give. Me. A. Break.
I believe my Higher Power only gives me what I can handle. At this point, I’m doing a damn good job of handling this infertility struggle. Sure, I have my moments, but the good days far outnumber the bad. I know how much I can take, and if I get to my breaking point—I’ll surrender.
Surrendering is not my style. I’m a fighter.
I’m successful. I’ve worked hard for that success—busted my backside as my dad so eloquently puts it. I’m good at my job. I’m a good wife. I’m a good friend.
It turns out I’m not so good at making babies. Right now that’s where I’m putting my focus and energy. I’m working as hard as I possibly can to make our baby. I’m fighting for motherhood like I’ve never fought for anything. I will continue along this path until my hard work pays off — or I decide to veer-off in another direction.
I have always charted the course of my destiny, and I won’t stop now.
This disease has changed me for the better. It’s molded me into a very different person. I’ve learned so much about myself and my relationship with my husband. I’m more appreciative of all the good things in my life.
I’m genuinely happy for my girlfriends who have been given the gift of motherhood. I am hopeful. I have faith that my day is coming. And when it does–I won’t ever take it for granted.
All this recent chatter about infertility is making me more comfortable with my diagnosis. I love reading success stories and words of encouragement. It’s good for the soul—and the psyche.
By sharing my thoughts with you I hope you’ll see this disease through my eyes. I hope you learn to practice empathy towards women being treated for infertility. I hope you hear my message. I hope you hear it, loud and clear.
The Wannabe Mom has been trying to conceive for more than a year and was recently diagnosed with unexplained infertility. She and her husband live and work in Champaign, and they desperately want to drive a Toyota Sienna minivan someday. We’ll be following her journey, so buckle up and get ready to cry with her — and cheer her on, too.