Wednesday, August 29, 2012

A Club You Don't Want to Be a Member Of; Guest Post by Jennifer

My friend and former coworker Jennifer who writes Peaches and Potatoes has been struggling with infertility for quite awhile. She recently wrote a beautiful blog post and I was lucky enough to get permission to re-post it.


Sometimes, I physically ache for all the women facing infertility, pregnancy loss, infant loss, or the overwhelming obstacles of adoption. 

Sometimes, I ache for myself...My first, my one-year-old. And my second, my little baby, due this fall. I think of them this way, maybe because I've had a while to think about them. It probably seems strange to other people, but it's natural for me. 
It brings me peace.

Sometimes it seems like everything I do every day reminds me that I've lost them. I can't help but think how different life would be if they were here now.

A stranger, Katie, who shared her story on www.facesofloss.com, wrote, "Miscarriage is death, yet there are no funerals, no sympathy cards, no bereavement time. Instead couples grieve in silence. You’ve just got to pick up the pieces, hold your head high, and go on with life as usual.
"


I've observed that some people believe that infertility or pregnancy loss is mostly longing for a baby, something like dreaming of a car or new furniture, only perhaps more intense. 

They believe that you just have to be patient, because eventually you'll have a baby (when it's somehow magically "the right time"), and everything will be alright. And that you shouldn't worry so much, and try to be happy with what you already have. It's a matter of faith and patience. 

This is true, because happiness is a choice, but it's only half of the truth, which makes it half a lie. The whole truth is that it's much more than waiting. It's more than what it seems. 


It's a part-time job that you don't get paid for.

It's weekly doctor's visits, daily phone calls, and constantly waiting on hold for the nurse. 


It's getting the run-around over and over from your insurance company.

It's follow-up, follow-up, and more follow-up. 


It's getting nowhere.

It's feeling like you have to keep trying, even when you want to give up.

It's freezing cold exam rooms with nothing on but a paper shield.

It's complicated explanations and half-smiles from the medical staff.
 

It's feeling completely out of place in a building with pictures of babies all over the wall and a waiting room full of pregnant women.
 

It's piles of paperwork and a whole drawer full of files at home labeled "Infertility/Miscarriages."

It's trying something new and hoping that it works.

It's trying again, then again, and again, and hoping that it works. 


It's bad news.

It's rarely ever good news. 

It's a 4-hour drive to see the specialist.

It's a night stand covered in prescription bottles. 


It's taking medication that turns you into a person that you hate.


It's paying $80 every month for a bunch of plastic sticks. 

It's complex calendaring, counting, charting, and analyzing (and over-analyzing). 


It's blood tests, and poking and prodding. 


It's physical pain and emotional stress.

It's failure.

It's the loss of privacy.

It's the loss of someone so small, yet that you love so much.

It's birthdays that only you remember.

  
It's starting over. 

It's "just life" to everyone else, but it's not 
their life.

It's money.

And more money.

It's running out of options.

It's tough decisions.

It's praying. 


It's crying.

It's hope.

It's dreading church every Sunday, and hating that you feel that way.

It's waterproof mascara.
 

It's being misunderstood and judged.

It's trying to figure out the best answers to awkward questions and well-meaning "advice."
 

It's trying to pretend that life is normal, when it's not.

It's growing closer to your spouse.

It's growing apart from friends who avoid you. 


It's being lifted up by encouraging words from people who care about you.
 

It's feeling the love of God.


It's seeing His hand in your life.

It's spending hours reading strangers' blogs to remind yourself that you're not alone.

It's a club you don't want to be a member of. 


It's scouring the Internet for answers that aren't there.
 

It's constantly battling feelings of discouragement, despair, anger, bitterness, jealousy, and self-loathing.
 

It's being physically exhausted from that constant battle.  


It's trying to be the very best person you can be in some of the very worst situations. 


It's "temporary." (...Right?)
 

It's (seemingly) never-ending. 


It's so much more than even this, and it's different for everyone. There are so many stories, some with happy endings and some with very, very sad ones. I'd like to believe that everyone will have their happy ending eventually, even if it's not in this life. But until then, it's much, much more than waiting.
 


Thanks, Jenny for letting me share your post. It really touched me and I know it will touch others.

4 comments:

Vanessa said...

Thanks for sharing this. It's nice to read the words of people who understand the struggle (many who understand it even better than I do).

john deere said...

Very touching. What a great post.

Shawn and Teresa Nilsson said...

Thank you for sharing.

Stephanie May Anderson said...

Thanks for posting this and thanks to the author who wrote it. Sadly I am starting to relate to much of what she says and she's right it's a club you don't want to be a part of. Beautifully written!

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