I almost feel wrong saying that I'm infertile. It's a very strange dichotomy... I know I am infertile. It hurts to know that I'm infertile. I cannot have a baby naturally, without the help of a doctor or a laboratory. That's such a disgusting feeling sometimes. But then there's this other side. I found out I was "probably" infertile years ago...before going through the pain and the serious suffering of trying and waiting that so many wonderful women and men go through. I was lucky to sit in a doctor's office at a young age and hear those words "it will be very difficult for you...". How strange is that?
So I feel almost guilty writing about my journey with infertility here because I know so many women who have gone through enormous struggle just to get to the place to know about their infertility. My struggle is beginning at a much different place. I'm here with the financial struggle, the medical struggle...but the emotional struggle is very different for me.
Let me qualify that last statement. I cry alone a lot. I cry at commercials, at movies, at horrible tv shows for goodness sakes. I think of the "natural" life and wonder. We never even went through those steps. I don't know what I'm missing out on...but when I see something about it, when I hear about the surprise of a positive pregnancy test...I cry.
Then I think about the What IFs. What if IVF doesn't work either? What if all of this joy I have at the fact that we get to even have an option is shattered and we're left broke and without? What if IVF works- we get pregnant, and then I can't carry a baby to term? What if it's all my fault? What if I'm not meant to bring a baby into this world? And then...my least favorite of all of my what if's- what if "she" resents me because I pass on all of the problems and failures that I have? What if she, too, is infertile. In pain. Incomplete?
I started this journey with endometriosis. A genetic disease that's so painful, so consuming, and so unfair. I'm now putting one foot in front of the other with endometriosis, Hashimoto's disease, a pituitary tumor... is it fair for me to even reproduce? That's the 'what if' that I try to shoot down each and every single time my mind presents it. But it creeps back up on me more than I'd like to admit.
But then, I'm so grateful that we didn't have to go through the trying, waiting, wondering phase. We got married with all of this in mind. He knew what he was getting himself into. I thank God for that everyday.
I hope that I can fit into a portion of this strong, brave, and powerful infertility community. I feel a little like an outsider. I hope my infertility journey is a short one- one glorious IVF cycle. I expect not, but I'm still hoping. I'm "wishing for twins" really.