I’ve become a semi-regular, a ‘tweener’ to a club I never intended to join. I know this to be true because today I almost went to the beverage stand at our fertility center to grab a cup of water. And I found myself irritated that someone was sitting in ‘my spot’ in the waiting room. I know my way around. I know what the different faces in the waiting room are telling me. Some eyes have a newness to them. Those individuals are taking everything in; the people, the sounds, the anticipation. I find myself connected to those people because they will make some eye contact with me and offer a half-smile as if to say, ‘I see you, I know you don’t want to be here either.’ Others have the eyes of a tiger and they look intensely focused…some knit, read, stare into their phones. They appear to have been here for some time. They are true regulars. They easily find their way to the beverage station and have inside jokes with the front desk staff. Then there are the ‘tweeners.’ That’s me! Not new, but not a true regular. I’m less timid than I was 6 months ago, but I am still uncomfortable and searching and paying attention to everything as much as I can. I am not focused like the tigers because I want to know what’s happening around me. Today, I saw a doctor come out and reassure a couple as the woman was preparing to get her anesthesia for her egg retrieval. I tried not to be too obvious about my eavesdropping, but I wanted to hear everything. How as she doing? ‘Nervous!’ What would the doctor’s response be? ‘We will take great care of you. We are really good at what we do. Everything is going to be just fine.’ Where will the husband be? How long will it take? I needed to absorb it all. I’m quite aware that there will come a day soon when I will no longer need to take in this extra information. I will become a tiger and I too will be focused and attempting to drown out the noise around me. I will always feel deep empathy for the ‘newbies’ looking around in semi-shock and the ‘tweeners’ who have accepted what is happening, but are still searching for answers.
I never wanted to be a regular. I stated that fact over and over to my husband. ‘I don’t want this to become familiar. I don’t want this to become common. I don’t want this to be a part of my life.’ And yet, here I am. I begin birth control pills tomorrow and receive my protocol calendar and then away we go.
**The above was written on March 22, 2017, this is the addendum a week later as a nasty cold has taken me out and required I rest and re-boot. **
I began birth control pills and simultaneously became ill with a sore throat and fatigue that my body doesn’t seem able to shake. After a weekend of resting and more isolation that I’m comfortable with, I am feeling some strength return and little pain leave. I was angry though. This was supposed to be my time to do lots of yoga, socialize, and complete some tasks around the house. I wanted to do all of this BEFORE I start the invasive medications in mid-April. Because some of it I cannot do (my favorite yoga classes) and some of it I’m not sure I’ll be able to do (make rational choices about what to get rid of in our storage spaces). And then I was reminded, ‘Jessica, you don’t have control over this.’ I have planned, questioned, and prepared and yet I have no way to make sure that things happen the way I prefer. Every time I’m met with this realization, it frustrates me. I do think that those of us struggling with infertility are sensitive to additional reminders of our total lack of control.
Also, I felt resentful that my husband had to help take care of me and our daughter this early in the game. I knew I would need him A LOT once the medications and procedures really became ingrained in our daily routine, but I wasn’t prepared to need him this early. For a cold. And I sort of hated him for it. Not his fault. I just hated him for being the one taking care of me because it’s been such a consistent theme through our fertility treatments and it will continue to be even more so as I realize my own limitations while undergoing the IVF process. And I hate it. I hate it, I hate it. I hate needing other people to do the things I want to be doing, but can’t. Playing with my daughter, creating family meals, reading bedtime stories, laughing together. I realize that there is an expiration to this time in my life and it will not always be this way. But, for today I need to grieve. Today, I am aware of what I will miss. Though temporary, still impactful for me.
One of my favorite quotes, ‘I can choose to do anything, but I can’t do everything’ by David Allen is a poignant reminder to me as I reflect on this past week. My anger and hatred that got dumped on my husband is a result of this realization. I don’t actually hate my husband. I hate that I cannot do everything. This weekend I could not take care of myself and be the mother/writer/wife/friend/baker/walker/sister/yogi/______ (insert any other role I love into this space) that I want to be. I can’t do everything. And IVF treatments will similarly shake me into submission as I know for a fact that I cannot do everything once those begin. I will have to prioritize my health and following our protocol above almost everything else and for the first time in my daughter’s life she will be second. And I probably hate that she will be second. And I can’t stand that feeling so much so that it comes out towards my husband because he is safe. My ugliest feelings are safe with him and so he gets to hold them for me…when I cannot. No matter how much I apologize after self-reflection, I cannot help but feel sad that he has to see these dark sides of me. That he has to see them more often than he deserves to because this whole infertility experience leaves me breathless and choking for air just when I think I’ve found a steady pace. How grateful I am to have him by my side.
And now, I think I will go let my husband know that he is loved and appreciated. Again. And that my hatred is about infertility and what it has taken from me. I see now that I am devastated at the reality that my daughter will not be my primary focus through these treatments and there’s nothing I can do about that. I will have to rely on the love and foundation we’ve built together, as well as the other amazing people that are in her life. They will have to help me get her through because I cannot do it without them now. I hope she understands one day why I had to do this. I hope she will forgive me. I hope my husband will forgive me for my dark sides. I hope I can forgive myself.
Stupid infertility.