Emotional Roller Coaster - Can I Get Off Yet?
Along with all of the terrible physical, medical hardships that infertility brings, there may be nothing worse than the emotional pain that accompanies it. Infertility breeds pain, jealousy, insecurity, and self doubt. (Maybe not for everyone, but certainly for me.) A whole bunch of garbage that no one needs more of in their lives.
To top it all off, I feel my emotions passionately, which makes them that much more difficult to share a body with.
So I'm going to try to make sense of all of that below. Maybe it'll come out like a genius stream of consciousnesses piece, a la Toni Morrison. Maybe it'll just come out like a hot mess. Let's see how it goes:
After much painful screaming, both internally and externally, about if I even really wanted to have kids, I finally felt that certainty that I was always promised I would feel. It was different than I imagined it would be, though; rather than a happy, warm, familial certainty, I felt a sucker punch to the gut when a couple we're close with told me they were expecting. I couldn't understand why I wasn't ecstatic for them, why I just felt weird and empty inside at the news.
Ah. I couldn't be happy because I wanted my own baby. And that was how I knew.
Later that night, Jon and I decided that it was time for us to start trying. Refer to the previous entry to know how going off birth control went for me. If you don't feel like it, the answer is not so great. I didn't get a period for months, and I finally had to take Clomid to reintroduce that lovely gem back into my life.
In the meantime, every month I wondered if maybe I just wasn't getting my period because I was pregnant. How exciting! How nerve wracking! I would waffle about whether or not I should take a pregnancy test, for how could I even be pregnant if I wasn't getting my period, except what if I was ovulating, and my eggs were just being fertilized before my period had a chance to kick back in?
And if I took a pregnancy test and it was negative, how disappointed would I be? Extremely; it would ruin my day. But if I kept not knowing, I would live in a constant state of "what if."
So I took pregnancy tests. I got my hopes up. They were always negative. I cried and was crushed.
Everything was mysterious. Why wasn’t I working? Why did I think it was smart to wait until I was absolutely ready to have kids to stop taking the pill? How did I think that was a good idea? I AM A SMART PERSON! HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO STUPID?
I became angry at myself for this, which I know isn't healthy, but I couldn't help it.
That was the beginning of everything illogical.
I wasn't prepared for what a raw emotional hot hormonal mess I would become. I'm not saying that this happens to every woman, but I am saying that my hormones absolutely took over and are still in control a good amount of the time.They make me feel awful things and think some real terrible zingers. I can try to logic with myself, but my brain does not soothe my heart.
I'm 32, almost 33, which means I'm at an age where the majority of my friends are getting pregnant, having babies, or enjoying their kids, who are already 1-8 or so. Social media is filled with pregnancy announcements and baby pictures. I want nothing more than to be happy for my friends, but something inside me won't let me. Every time I see someone else is pregnant, my heart fills with sorrow instead of joy. It feels like a part of me is torn off. I want to cry, and sometimes I do.
And sometimes I throw my phone across the room.
Then things only get worse because I get upset with myself because how horribly selfish is it of me to not be able to feel joy for my friends? What kind of friend am I that I can only think of myself and my problem in someone else's time of elation?
I guess that's not entirely accurate. I can think of their joy. I just can't feel it. I can try. But it hurts me so much.
I feel like the worst friend, like I don't deserve to be friends with any of these people because all I can be is jealous and sad.
Then there are the times I feel like my body is broken. Why won't I work? Why can't I do this basic biological thing that my body is designed to do? Is this some higher power's way of telling me that maybe I'm not meant to have children? Not everyone is, right? If it weren't for scientific advancements, this would be it. I wouldn't have the chance, the opportunity to have a baby. (Yes, that's a little premature; maybe I'd get pregnant on my own in a few more years, but I wouldn't be in talks about IUI and IVF, so this would probably be a lot less likely.)
The world is overpopulated. We shouldn't all be having five and six and seven kids. Do the medical advancements we've created to "help" people have children have something to do with this? Am I messing up the world by going against nature? Am I playing God in a way I shouldn't be?
And why is it that it's so easy for some people to have children? Some people seem to just look at a man and they get pregnant. There are so many people out there who don't have stable jobs, can't easily afford to have children, aren't in stable, loving relationships, and they have multiple children. They don't have the time to spend with them, attention and love to give them, and yet nature allows them to have kids with no issues.
I am in a loving relationship. Jon and I have been together for 15 years, married for 7. We are both in stable jobs. We have a house that's somewhat below our means, so we have more than enough money for at least one child. We love to do fun things, and we've been looking forward to bringing kids along with us on those adventures. We dream about taking them to ComicCon and Disney World and going on hikes and staying in our (okay, my parents') Wyndham timeshare and Christmases...
But somehow it's not in the cards.
I heard about a former student of mine who is 16 and pregnant. That was a throw something kind of day. Glad that's possible, but it isn't for me.
I meet parents of my students who are younger than I am, still in their 20s with 13 year olds, and 2,3,4 more children to boot. They struggle to take care of their teenagers while still caring for two year olds. Their families are a mess. They come into meetings and are stressed about how hard it is to raise a family, and don't we all know what that's like, they might say, and everyone else around the table rolls their eyes and laughs along.
But I can't. I don't know what that's like. I haven't been granted that chance to know how stressful it is.
And then there are the people I work with who just complain about their kids and talk about how awful it is to be a parent. It changes your life, and not for the better. You have no time for yourself anymore. Anyone would be insane to want that for themselves.
A few years ago, I took solace in hearing those words, but now they infuriate me. I'd love to have the chance to make my life a little worse and not have any more me time. (Haha. Funny, right? Except it isn't funny.) I don't know. My parents went through fertility treatments to have me. I never heard them complain about me, and, maybe I'm naive, but I can't imagine that they ever did even when I wasn't around.
To be fair, there are people I work with who tell me that the ones who complain are all bs and that it's wonderful and they can't wait for me to have kids. Well. Neither can I.
Then there are the people who give advice. Something I've learned about myself: I am not a huge fan of advice. Most of the time when I vent, I just want people to listen and say, "Yeah, you're right, that does suck." When I'm ready for advice, I'll ask for it. Really, I think this is true of most people.
Things You Should Not Say to a Woman Trying to Conceive
1. "Just forget about it. If you stop thinking about it and take the stress off, you'll be more likely to conceive." I wish I could forget it! And sometimes I do, but you know what? I'm a woman, and every 28 days my body likes to give me a natural reminder that I'm not pregnant. And every time that happens, it's heartbreaking. And sometimes, things are running late, and I get my hopes up. And I wait a day or two and struggle again with when I should take a pregnancy test. I tell myself to wait because my heart will be broken one way or another. If I go for two extra days, I can't stand it, and I break down, and I pee on another damn stick. And then, after I get a negative result, I generally get my period later the same day. So money and dreams down the drain.
2. "Everything happens for a reason." Oh, I'm so glad you think so. There's a reason I'm being put through all of this pain? There's a reason I have to have a million inconclusive blood tests? And so many different people have had a peek between my legs? And I've had all manner of internal tests? And I have to feel sad about being left out of the having kids club? I'm sure the reasons are great and will automatically become apparent. Someday. Or never.
3. "Are you pregnant?" Can we just agree to never as a woman this again? I was thinking about this the other day, and the amount of women who can answer "yes" happily to that question statistically is quite low. If you ask a woman if she's pregnant, the answer might be yes, and she's happy about it. Or the answer might be yes, and she's not happy about it. Or the answer might be no, and she's just put on a bit of weight, which she's sure to feel self conscious about, so thanks, you just made her day.
There came a point a few years ago where any physical complaint I had, every time I had a headache or was tired or my stomach was bothering me, if I mentioned it to anyone, I got asked, "Are you pregnant?" At the time, I wasn't trying to get pregnant, and the question was just annoying. Wasn't I allowed to just be sick? Just because I'm female doesn't mean that the only possible ailment I can experience is pregnancy. That was annoying at a time when I wasn't trying to conceive. Now that I am, if you ask, it's a constant reminder that I'm struggling. For some people, it might be a reminder that they're not in a relationship. Or that they're not in the right relationship.
Just. Don't. Even. Bother. To. Ask.
I mean, unless the woman is, like, seven months pregnant, and it's super obvious. Although even then maybe we should all stop putting our hands on pregnant stomachs. No one is asking for that. Ask permission.
By the way, a coworker of mine who I have confided in actually asked me with a big, happy grin last week if the nausea I expressed I was feeling to her was because I was pregnant. That came last Monday morning after a very challenging weekend. I had just started to get my emotions back in check. And then I felt like crying all over again.
4. Don't complain to them about your kids. They might be little terrors, but maybe take the reminder, when faced with someone who's struggling to have them, that they're a blessing. There are plenty of people not struggling to conceive. Go complain to them. And then one day, maybe I'll get that blessing, and maybe I'll be able to complain with you at that point.But for now,the only thing running through my head when you complain is, "At least you have kids to complain about."
5. "How old are you? Oh, yeah, you might want to get on that." That lovely gem was said to me by my OB-GYN, who, incidentally, is male. Luckily, no woman has actually said this to me. In fact, he's the only one. Everyone else has been all, "Oh, you're still young, you have time." I know it's somewhere in between, I do. But again, don't remind someone of their hardships.
Seriously, why do we need to take so much pleasure in this?!
Just...
A lot of things are painful. A lot of things set me off. And I'm sorry in advance if I make a face at you or if I have to remove myself from a situation where I get upset.
Next time, and Just As Sane.
To top it all off, I feel my emotions passionately, which makes them that much more difficult to share a body with.
So I'm going to try to make sense of all of that below. Maybe it'll come out like a genius stream of consciousnesses piece, a la Toni Morrison. Maybe it'll just come out like a hot mess. Let's see how it goes:
After much painful screaming, both internally and externally, about if I even really wanted to have kids, I finally felt that certainty that I was always promised I would feel. It was different than I imagined it would be, though; rather than a happy, warm, familial certainty, I felt a sucker punch to the gut when a couple we're close with told me they were expecting. I couldn't understand why I wasn't ecstatic for them, why I just felt weird and empty inside at the news.
Ah. I couldn't be happy because I wanted my own baby. And that was how I knew.
Later that night, Jon and I decided that it was time for us to start trying. Refer to the previous entry to know how going off birth control went for me. If you don't feel like it, the answer is not so great. I didn't get a period for months, and I finally had to take Clomid to reintroduce that lovely gem back into my life.
In the meantime, every month I wondered if maybe I just wasn't getting my period because I was pregnant. How exciting! How nerve wracking! I would waffle about whether or not I should take a pregnancy test, for how could I even be pregnant if I wasn't getting my period, except what if I was ovulating, and my eggs were just being fertilized before my period had a chance to kick back in?
And if I took a pregnancy test and it was negative, how disappointed would I be? Extremely; it would ruin my day. But if I kept not knowing, I would live in a constant state of "what if."
So I took pregnancy tests. I got my hopes up. They were always negative. I cried and was crushed.
Everything was mysterious. Why wasn’t I working? Why did I think it was smart to wait until I was absolutely ready to have kids to stop taking the pill? How did I think that was a good idea? I AM A SMART PERSON! HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO STUPID?
I became angry at myself for this, which I know isn't healthy, but I couldn't help it.
That was the beginning of everything illogical.
I wasn't prepared for what a raw emotional hot hormonal mess I would become. I'm not saying that this happens to every woman, but I am saying that my hormones absolutely took over and are still in control a good amount of the time.They make me feel awful things and think some real terrible zingers. I can try to logic with myself, but my brain does not soothe my heart.
I'm 32, almost 33, which means I'm at an age where the majority of my friends are getting pregnant, having babies, or enjoying their kids, who are already 1-8 or so. Social media is filled with pregnancy announcements and baby pictures. I want nothing more than to be happy for my friends, but something inside me won't let me. Every time I see someone else is pregnant, my heart fills with sorrow instead of joy. It feels like a part of me is torn off. I want to cry, and sometimes I do.
And sometimes I throw my phone across the room.
Then things only get worse because I get upset with myself because how horribly selfish is it of me to not be able to feel joy for my friends? What kind of friend am I that I can only think of myself and my problem in someone else's time of elation?
I guess that's not entirely accurate. I can think of their joy. I just can't feel it. I can try. But it hurts me so much.
I feel like the worst friend, like I don't deserve to be friends with any of these people because all I can be is jealous and sad.
Then there are the times I feel like my body is broken. Why won't I work? Why can't I do this basic biological thing that my body is designed to do? Is this some higher power's way of telling me that maybe I'm not meant to have children? Not everyone is, right? If it weren't for scientific advancements, this would be it. I wouldn't have the chance, the opportunity to have a baby. (Yes, that's a little premature; maybe I'd get pregnant on my own in a few more years, but I wouldn't be in talks about IUI and IVF, so this would probably be a lot less likely.)
The world is overpopulated. We shouldn't all be having five and six and seven kids. Do the medical advancements we've created to "help" people have children have something to do with this? Am I messing up the world by going against nature? Am I playing God in a way I shouldn't be?
And why is it that it's so easy for some people to have children? Some people seem to just look at a man and they get pregnant. There are so many people out there who don't have stable jobs, can't easily afford to have children, aren't in stable, loving relationships, and they have multiple children. They don't have the time to spend with them, attention and love to give them, and yet nature allows them to have kids with no issues.
I am in a loving relationship. Jon and I have been together for 15 years, married for 7. We are both in stable jobs. We have a house that's somewhat below our means, so we have more than enough money for at least one child. We love to do fun things, and we've been looking forward to bringing kids along with us on those adventures. We dream about taking them to ComicCon and Disney World and going on hikes and staying in our (okay, my parents') Wyndham timeshare and Christmases...
But somehow it's not in the cards.
I heard about a former student of mine who is 16 and pregnant. That was a throw something kind of day. Glad that's possible, but it isn't for me.
I meet parents of my students who are younger than I am, still in their 20s with 13 year olds, and 2,3,4 more children to boot. They struggle to take care of their teenagers while still caring for two year olds. Their families are a mess. They come into meetings and are stressed about how hard it is to raise a family, and don't we all know what that's like, they might say, and everyone else around the table rolls their eyes and laughs along.
But I can't. I don't know what that's like. I haven't been granted that chance to know how stressful it is.
And then there are the people I work with who just complain about their kids and talk about how awful it is to be a parent. It changes your life, and not for the better. You have no time for yourself anymore. Anyone would be insane to want that for themselves.
A few years ago, I took solace in hearing those words, but now they infuriate me. I'd love to have the chance to make my life a little worse and not have any more me time. (Haha. Funny, right? Except it isn't funny.) I don't know. My parents went through fertility treatments to have me. I never heard them complain about me, and, maybe I'm naive, but I can't imagine that they ever did even when I wasn't around.
To be fair, there are people I work with who tell me that the ones who complain are all bs and that it's wonderful and they can't wait for me to have kids. Well. Neither can I.
Then there are the people who give advice. Something I've learned about myself: I am not a huge fan of advice. Most of the time when I vent, I just want people to listen and say, "Yeah, you're right, that does suck." When I'm ready for advice, I'll ask for it. Really, I think this is true of most people.
Things You Should Not Say to a Woman Trying to Conceive
1. "Just forget about it. If you stop thinking about it and take the stress off, you'll be more likely to conceive." I wish I could forget it! And sometimes I do, but you know what? I'm a woman, and every 28 days my body likes to give me a natural reminder that I'm not pregnant. And every time that happens, it's heartbreaking. And sometimes, things are running late, and I get my hopes up. And I wait a day or two and struggle again with when I should take a pregnancy test. I tell myself to wait because my heart will be broken one way or another. If I go for two extra days, I can't stand it, and I break down, and I pee on another damn stick. And then, after I get a negative result, I generally get my period later the same day. So money and dreams down the drain.
2. "Everything happens for a reason." Oh, I'm so glad you think so. There's a reason I'm being put through all of this pain? There's a reason I have to have a million inconclusive blood tests? And so many different people have had a peek between my legs? And I've had all manner of internal tests? And I have to feel sad about being left out of the having kids club? I'm sure the reasons are great and will automatically become apparent. Someday. Or never.
3. "Are you pregnant?" Can we just agree to never as a woman this again? I was thinking about this the other day, and the amount of women who can answer "yes" happily to that question statistically is quite low. If you ask a woman if she's pregnant, the answer might be yes, and she's happy about it. Or the answer might be yes, and she's not happy about it. Or the answer might be no, and she's just put on a bit of weight, which she's sure to feel self conscious about, so thanks, you just made her day.
There came a point a few years ago where any physical complaint I had, every time I had a headache or was tired or my stomach was bothering me, if I mentioned it to anyone, I got asked, "Are you pregnant?" At the time, I wasn't trying to get pregnant, and the question was just annoying. Wasn't I allowed to just be sick? Just because I'm female doesn't mean that the only possible ailment I can experience is pregnancy. That was annoying at a time when I wasn't trying to conceive. Now that I am, if you ask, it's a constant reminder that I'm struggling. For some people, it might be a reminder that they're not in a relationship. Or that they're not in the right relationship.
Just. Don't. Even. Bother. To. Ask.
I mean, unless the woman is, like, seven months pregnant, and it's super obvious. Although even then maybe we should all stop putting our hands on pregnant stomachs. No one is asking for that. Ask permission.
By the way, a coworker of mine who I have confided in actually asked me with a big, happy grin last week if the nausea I expressed I was feeling to her was because I was pregnant. That came last Monday morning after a very challenging weekend. I had just started to get my emotions back in check. And then I felt like crying all over again.
4. Don't complain to them about your kids. They might be little terrors, but maybe take the reminder, when faced with someone who's struggling to have them, that they're a blessing. There are plenty of people not struggling to conceive. Go complain to them. And then one day, maybe I'll get that blessing, and maybe I'll be able to complain with you at that point.But for now,the only thing running through my head when you complain is, "At least you have kids to complain about."
5. "How old are you? Oh, yeah, you might want to get on that." That lovely gem was said to me by my OB-GYN, who, incidentally, is male. Luckily, no woman has actually said this to me. In fact, he's the only one. Everyone else has been all, "Oh, you're still young, you have time." I know it's somewhere in between, I do. But again, don't remind someone of their hardships.
Seriously, why do we need to take so much pleasure in this?!
Just...
A lot of things are painful. A lot of things set me off. And I'm sorry in advance if I make a face at you or if I have to remove myself from a situation where I get upset.
Next time, and Just As Sane.
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