I normally don’t post on weekends, but…

I feel pretty shitty right now, and I needed to vent to people who would understand.

Of course, we had the snafu w/ the insurance yesterday, which lead to a pretty substantial breakdown after work. But  I tried to reconcile being upset w/ the fact that I was testing this morning.  I don’t know why I got my hopes up so much about this cycle, since it was med free, but I really had.

Today was cd38 for me, and for the past few months, I’ve been consistently hitting the 30 day mark, so I guess I was hoping that maybe this one was for real. I’ve been exhausted, like, could easily sleep 15 hours a day if they would let me, exhausted, and nauseous, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, since I’ve been eating really well. So, I guess I put all of those things together, and hoped. Silly me.

I don’t know how this is all supposed to work. I can’t not think about it. And right now, thanks to Mr. BFN, the pain is pretty crushing.  I’m combining that with the fact that IRL I don’t have anyone I can talk to (besides the husby, who has been amazing through all of this. Fertility Chick had some very sweet things to say about her darling, yesterday, on their anniversary, and it reminded me what a wonderful husband I have), I mean, people are supportive, and will talk about it, but it’s not the same as someone who is going through it.

He suggested adoption, and while I really do want to adopt, eventually, this isn’t entirely about just getting a baby. I don’t think that people who haven’t struggled quite understand this. The problem is framed by way of “want a baby? here’s a baby.” I know that when we adopt, I will love that child more than anyone or anything, but infertility is not just about not being able to get a baby. If it were, there would be women lined up by the millions to adopt. There is so much more than just babies.

There’s loneliness. Dark and overwhelming loneliness. Invisible lady loneliness. Loneliness in your family because you KNOW what you’re missing (not in the empirical sense, but rather in the emotional sense.), and you just want the other part of you to be with you. You’re lonely around people with children, and who can get pregnant, because you feel like an outsider in their special little, “ooh, we can conceive” club. And you feel lonely with men, even your partner, because ultimately, they cannot physically understand what you are going through. I know this sounds stupid, but being able to get pregnant and have a baby let’s you into that club. Where you can relate to other people. Maybe it’s not true. Maybe it’s something that would be eased just by having a child, no matter how it got here, but for me, there’s more to it.

One of the major reasons I haven’t jumped straight at the adoption idea is control.  I wish I could be one of those people who knew right away that they wanted to adopt all of their children. I really do want to adopt, again, but I need to be able to be pregnant and give birth for the sake of my own body and mind. Yes, I’m a control freak, and I think the major problem for me with infertility is the lack of control I have in my own body. I feel so broken. I feel trapped. I begin to hate my body. I hate it for all the reasons women choose to hate their bodies, fat thights, jelly belly, you name it. But I hate it much worse for the things it is supposed to do and cannot or will not. I wish I knew how to come to peace with this issue. V (the husband) says that I can’t blame myself, but my body IS my self, and who/what else is there to blame? My lot in life hasn’t been horrible, but I’ve struggled through a lot of things that were difficult enough on their own front that I would think God or evolution or who/whatever is incharge would cut me some damn slack. But no. Add body that won’t do what it’s supposed to (on numerous fronts) to the list of sh*t I have to deal with.

Sorry, I knew this was going to be a sad/ranty one. But, if it’s any consolation for having read this, I’ve stopped sobbing (for the time being). I didn’t really intend on throwing myself a pity party, but sometimes you need one, and I think I was about due.

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8 Comments

Filed under BFN Sadness

8 responses to “I normally don’t post on weekends, but…

  1. I could not have explained all those feelings better myself. The loneliness and the pain. Beautifully stated. And by the way, I meet an occasional infertile (less fertile) lady who does not feel these things or WORSE does remember how it felt after she does conceive, and to her I say, “No thank you. I’d rather be friends with real people.”

    thanks for sharing.

  2. thanks for the sweet words jill. man, what a day.

  3. It’s your (pity) party and you can cry if you want to. Sometimes we all need a little pity party to let the tears run their course. Crying cleanses the soul.

    You’re right, it’s not just about getting a baby. Adoption does not solve the fertility problem. As a woman, I think it’s natural for us to want to experience pregnancy and childbirth. It’s almost a right of passage.

    Hang in there!

  4. Like Jill said, you’ve put into words what I’ve been feeling – and done it far more eloquently that I ever could. IF is a lonely, frustrating, crappy thing and you’re right, while family/friends may mean well, unless they are/have experienced it, it’s not the same.

    I am so sorry for the BFN and for all the pain that goes with it. I wish there were words to make it hurt less but I know there aren’t.

    Know this though – I am so very grateful to have found someone like you who gets “this” and can talk about it.

    So vent, cry, scream – do what needs to be done. Because I’m hopeful that some day there can also be dances of joy on the other side of all this – no matter where this leads us.

    Take care of yourself.

  5. @ all my sweet ladies, for their words today, thank you. they mean more than you could know. having this has given me a lot of comfort when i needed it. loves.

  6. It’s really, really hard, and you’ve just had a double blow, with the disappointing insurance stuff and the BFN. So it’s going to feel double shitty for a bit because you’re processing twice the injustice.

    I had multiple coping approaches over the four years or so we struggled with IF and loss including: distraction, doing something physical I could control (in my case, that was training for a sprint triathlon, but I am a person of extremes), doing something mental I was good at, seeing my therapist, working way too much, weeping, cheesecake, and copious amounts of shiraz.

    None of it worked all that well, though all of it helped a bit.

    I’ll be thinking of you and hoping you find some comfort and pleasure over the next few days.

    My insurance, btw, would not touch anything branded with the dreaded IF, BUT it did magically cover some bloodwork and ultrasounds during my IUI/injects cycles. No meds, though. (BOOO!) To be obnoxiously peppy about it, we make very little money, but managed to save up and pay out of pocket. Not for IVF, which is in another financial realm, but at least for two cycles of IUI. Just to let you know you can do it, even if it’s fucking unfair and stupid and deeply irritating.

  7. thanks for venting. You lent words to exactly how I’ve been feeling. It’s about so much more than just a child.

  8. @trying i don’t think i’ve been able to put it into words until this point, but i feel like i have a lot more clear-headed an answer now for those people who say, “why don’t you adopt?” it’s not that it’s not an option, but that there is so much more to it.

    @shinejil thanks for the encouraging words, and that’s good news about the way that you’ve been able to work things out, i hope our attempts are similar. good advice about doing something i can control, too. that’s something i need to add to my arsenal of fighting this.

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