Tag Archives: How Infertility Affects Women

Infertility: The Well, The Tears, The Scuba Gear

Posted on by
4

Tonight my husband and I went to see The Odd Life Of Timothy Green. And though years have now passed since our infertility journey began, and wounds scab over as healing happens, sometimes things can break them open again–even if just for a moment.

Sometimes we are reminded of the deep well of love that lives inside the unused parts of our hearts. The parts of our hearts that were made for tiny hands and tiny feet. The parts of our hearts that were made to be broken wide open by a love so deep that the bottom is yet to be discovered.

And so perhaps one of the greatest hardships of infertility is not the loss of physically carrying a child. Nor the loss of exuberant friends and family who joyfully help us to prepare to join all those on the other side. Or maybe not even the loss of baby clothes shopping and bickering over the perfect name. Perhaps the deepest well of infertility is the one that lies in our hearts. The one that cannot be filled with embraces from friends, well meaning wishes, nor all the other forms that love can take.

When we have so much love to give that it breaks us apart from the inside out, it can feel as though we are dying a little every day. It is as though that love pushes against the crevices of the well until the walls begin to crack–until we begin to crack.

And so tonight Timothy Green reminded me that when our deepest desire is to be a mother, anything is possible; we must dive in. Because the gift, it’s there, and when we refuse to harbor sorrow, when we let it go, the gift will fall right in our hands.

So here I sit tonight with the crickets, the wind, the stars peaking through the trees, and my scuba gear, wanting nothing more than to dive in.

This Gift

This gift will last forever
This gift will never let you down
Some things are made from better stuff
This gift is waiting to be found
Your heart’s in wide receiving
Been too long buried in the sand
Some things require leaving
This gift will fall right in your hand
Just try to understand…If you long enough
And you don’t give up
If you’re strong enough
And you don’t give up
And you…

You’ll be no harbor to the sorrow
Just let it go.

Don’t hang your head in sorrow
Don’t give up just before you win
Don’t wait around for tomorrow
Open up your arms and let it in

This gift will last forever
This gift will never let you down
Some things are made from better stuff
This gift is ready to be found
Just you believe it now

This gift will last forever
This gift will never let you down
Some things are made from better stuff
This gift is ready to be found
Your heart’s in wide receiving
Been too long buried in the sand
Some things require believing
These things just fall right in your hand
Just try to understand

If you long enough
And you don’t give up
If you’re strong enough
And you don’t give up

- Glen Hansard

Duck, Duck, Infertility GOOSE!

Posted on by
16

I thought that when we began the process of adopting, when we made peace with the big IF, when we finished the huge pile of paperwork and readied for our home study, that I would begin to feel more like the “others.” You know, the ones for whom infertility is a remote concept that they feel empathy for but don’t really think too long and hard about.

And then, I was reminded that I will forever, and ever, be the goose. Duck (pregnant), duck (pregnant), goose (clearly not pregnant) and up I spring to chase what I’ll never catch. Welcome to Infant Care Class.

“Now I would like every couple to introduce themselves and if you got blue, yellow, or purple when you walked in tell us what trait you hope that your baby gets from your spouse. If you got red, orange, or green, tell us what unexpected positive thing has come out of your pregnancy.” Oh thank you all things good and great that we got purple. Yet still, how in the world does a clearly not pregnant girl answer that one?

Yes, the world is made for people who form their families through the traditional way. The world sees adoption, or the choice not to mother through parenthood, as “out of the ordinary.” We’re not though, we’re no different than anyone else, we just don’t birth the children we mother through our womb.

And so, we could become angry, we could break down into tears and run from the room, or we could hold our chins up high, take a deep breath, and accept this “burden” that will become our greatest strength.

You see our children–whether ours through parenting or ours through mothering without the title–need us to be sturdy like an oak in the midst of a hurricane. Our children need our voices to be strong, steady, and matured through the fight of a lifetime. Our children need us to proclaim to the world that YES! we are the goose, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

And so with two more classes to go, a room full of pregnant couples, and class content completely designed and directed to couples forming their family through  physical birth, I will be the goose. However this time when I’m tagged, I won’t get up and I won’t run.

When all eyes turn to me, the goose, I will smile, sit tall, and show them that this goose is every bit as much an expectant mother as the room full of ducks surrounding me. And I’ll remind myself that this ugly duckling is not a goose, but rather a beautiful swan transformed through infertility.

Duck, duck, swan.

Infertility is hard, family can be insensitive, yet in life there’s always a “Cherry” on top

Posted on by
5

Here are three things that I know: (1) Marriage, mixed with infertility–like a dangerously exotic drink at a seedy roadside bar–is not for the faint of heart; (2) Family, never having experienced infertility, can be unintentionally hurtful and insensitive; and (3) Life often feels too busy and too full with the years whirling by in a home where the nursery sits empty. And here is one important lesson that a three-and-five-year-old and their four-month-old sister taught me; at the end of the day none of those matters and there’s always a “Cherry” on top.

As part of our adoption process we had to spend the afternoon/evening with a newborn. A dear friend of mine was generous enough to offer her little one up, and we insisted on watching their other two so that they could get a romantic evening out alone together.

By the end of the night I was in love.

I was in love with the way their three-year-old had to first take his shirt off so that he could “box” his brother on the x-box. I was in love with the way their five-year-old soaked in every ounce of me rubbing his back–inquiring into whether we could spend the night–while my husband read bedtime stories. And I was in love with how their four-month-old laughed hysterically at her brothers, and then cuddled in and fell asleep on my shoulder.

I was also however in love with the “Cherry” on top–my husband. Of course I always love him, however the sweetness of this tiny person smiling away as he held her made me only love him more. And so, dubbed “Cherry” by the three-year-old, who was unable to pronounce his name, I found my “Cherry” on top.

Yes, there have been times when infertility felt like just too much to bear. There have been times when I was ready to throw all of the adoption paperwork into the trash–overwhelmed by all that we need to do and all we that we have to share with complete strangers to be dubbed “acceptable parents.” And there have been times when family members have unknowingly deeply hurt me, so immersed in their own joys and never considering how I might feel. Those things are like heavy weights at the bottom of lead boots. They have made me angry, tearful, and exasperated.

Yet in the end, there really is a “Cherry” on top and soon where there was two, there will be three, and nothing else will matter.