Newborn Life: 8

“Look at all that hair.” “How old is he??” “Congratulations!” These are the things I hear when Mason and I are out and about running errands. I’m still getting used to it. The Congratulations part. I mean, yeah, it took a lot to bring him into the world. I do deserve a congratulations gosh dang it. The people saying it really have no idea the magnitude it brings. But also, a part of me feels undeserving or foreign to it and don’t know how to respond. I think a lot of people struggling with infertility (or even those who don’t) may assume that once you have a child the pain is gone. I mean, you got what you wanted right? But, in all reality those feelings don’t just go away. I was recently asked to write a letter about infertility. After months and months of writing this blog you would think it came easy to me. But it didn’t. It forced me to look back on my emotions and sort through the new ones as well. I can’t really sum up the letter or rephrase it to where you would fully understand, and you still may never. But here it is.

To the one who is hurting from the depths of infertility,

Some people say everything happens for a reason. And maybe it does. Sometimes further on we discover the meaning of why. And sometimes we never do. There are many questions in life that spin around in our heads like a spinning top uncontrolled on the floor with the end unknown. If we succumb to those thoughts we too begin to spin uncontrollably. That’s why I refused to. I refused to let infertility dictate my life. It was a part of my every day, every thought. Every baby passing by on the street, every friend who had one more child, every wedding that then led to babies. It always led to babies. I had to separate it. I had decided early on that I would adapt the motto, “They are on their path and I am on mine.” What they are doing has nothing to do with what I am doing. They had a baby. That has nothing to do with the fact that I didn’t. My husband and I started trying to conceive 6 months after we got married. I remember the conversation when we decided we wanted to start a family. Oh the joy and excitement that conversation had sparked in both of us. Little did we know that there was a dark cloud lingering over us. After 2 years of trying naturally nothing happened. People told us to “just relax” or that “it will happen when the time is right.” I heard all kinds of cliche advice that I really didn’t care to hear. We did some infertility treatments and we were a little past “just relaxing.” Something was actually wrong. I have Endometriosis. Can I have kids? I mean, maybe. But did we really know the answer. No. A year of infertility treatments and $10,000 later, I was exhausted. Our final resort was IVF but at that time I just wasn't in a place to do it. I took a break and tried to channel my energy into something else. I needed to get on with my life, a void needed to be filled. I worked at a doggy day care and as much as it was enjoyable and rewarding at times it wasn’t a child. People in my life were continuing on their path and mine had a major roadblock. Finally after 5 years of struggling, we were led to the journey of IVF. The process was grueling and intense to say the least. We were putting all of our eggs in one basket. Literally. We had no idea what the outcome would be. Hope was there, but in a very small dose. We had to spend it wisely because fear and anxiety were more prevalent. I continued to hold on tightly to what hope I had left. After 8 months of IVF, I received a phone call that I was pregnant. How many of you ever received a phone call to tell you you were pregnant? I couldn’t even believe it. Like I literally could not fathom it. Somehow, nine months later I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy with a full head of hair. I wish I could tell you it was a magical moment and in that moment all the darkness of infertility had escaped me. But that’s not what happened. My baby is now 10 weeks old and I still struggle. I was encapsulated in the infertility realm for so long that those feelings don’t just magically go away. In fact, I have questions spinning in my mind uncontrollably but not the questions I once had. My Endometriosis didn’t go away, it's still there. So now I am crossing over into a new realm of the unknown. It’s kind of like purgatory. I sit here between heaven and hell. Heaven because I have this beautiful angel that was sent to me and technically speaking my infertility struggle was lifted. Hell because technically speaking, my infertility struggle is still there and those demons are pulling on me, trying to encapsulate me again. So where do I go from here? That I do not know.

Sincerely, A fellow struggler of Infertility.

And for now,

Xoxo