Sisterhood of the infertility paths
An hour ago I was outside going to town on a bajillion feet of snow. The goal was to make a safe path from the front door of the house to the car. And then I needed to unsnow the car. And then I needed to clear the road behind the car so that we could get it out to the road. Tomorrow Mother has an appointment in town with a rheumatologist and if that office is open then I want to get us there.
Except the snow. Wow. Did you hear there was a blizzard? And while I still firmly live in the “love it!” camp when it comes to the stuff (remember, it’s all still a bit new and shiny for me) shoveling it has been a learning experience. The first hour is all bad-ass and awesome. I attack the snow like nobody’s business. I get thrilled just watching the progress. But then I get sore or over-heated or snow down my shirt. And I start to wane on my vim. I start to hate being tall. (Maybe I am wrong- but it just seems like I have to bend more being so effing tall.)
I approached the shoveling in waves. That first hour was over fast and I was exhausted. I took a break. Had a beverage. And then back out I went. I was nearly to the car when I heard, “excuse me!!!” I looked up and an older woman and two teen-aged girls waved at me from the main road. They were decked out in parkas and the older woman had a camera around her neck. She pointed to it as she loudly asked, “Do you know where we can take a good photograph of the water?”
Well it just so happens I did know because I take a zillion photographs weekly of the view of the water. I ambled up to talk and we met half way. We exchanged names. I found out that the older woman and one of the girls lived on a farm about a mile down the road. An alpaca farm that I pass every time I head into town. I exclaimed that I would love to come visit and bring W.
And then the following exchange happened:
Her: How sweet. Of course. How old is your son?
Me: Ten months yesterday. [wow.]
Her: And is he your only one?
Me: He is, and it took me five years to get him.
Her: (squeezing the shoulder of her daughter) I know exactly what you mean.
And a ripple of understanding wafted through the cool air and we smiled at each other. Members of the queendom. Speakers of the same language. Travelers on the road to hell and back.
I set them off to the best place to take photos and they went on their way. I continued my work heaving and hoeing. Twenty minutes later I heard them come back from the vista and make their way to a neighbor’s house down the road. We waved.
An hour later I was back out shoveling the snow off of the car and I saw them leave the neighbors and head my way. The Mother walked towards me and I walked towards her. “So? IVF?” And I told her my story. I promised to bring W up to her farm next weekend and she made her way back to the road then turned and shouted, “I told ____ to plow out the rest of your drive so you should get on back into your house and be with your son.”
And that is how being infertile got me a plow job.
A few weeks ago I was getting my hair done and a similar conversation happened. Someone remarked on the adorableness of W and I responded that it took me a long time to get him. And FIVE people started talking with each other about infertility. Some customers, some salon employees. One girl was just starting to have the workups done, another conceived her child after 14 years of trying, another had a sister that was going through IVF…
I am incredibly vocal about the path that I traveled in order to become a Mother. It is, perhaps, a luxury of being single because I dive into the sharing of the story very easily without the need of approval from a husband. I talk about it now because I wonder if at some point I will become quieter about it, when it becomes less my story and more W’s story. I talk because I have to create a normalcy for it.
For every person that makes a joke about how fertile they are I feel compelled to shout out how INfertile I am. You know someone that just looks at her husband and gets knocked up? Well I know hundreds of people that spend all of their savings for such a chance.
Being infertile changed me to my core, but I feel such a beautiful and tight sisterhood with women all over the world now. That I can find such a sisterhood at a hair salon or out shoveling snow is quite honestly one of the best things to come out of all of this (well, W is no doubt The Best).
And it makes me wonder- do you talk about it? I mean outside of the blogs or the message boards. Do you find ways to weave your story into every day conversations? What do you say?
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What a wonderful story!! And I’m glad you didn’t have to finish the shoveling. Your phrasing… “plow job” totally cracked me up!! : 0 )
I had to laugh at the “plow job” line, too. Too funny!
I’m interested in what the votes on the poll say. I am one to discuss infertility to pretty much anyone. While it would have been nice to be one of those fertiles, I wasn’t, and I am damn proud of my little men and all we had to do to get them here! (that doesn’t exactly sound right now that I typed it, but I hope you’ll understand what I mean)
That is a great story. And yay for getting the driveway plowed!!!!
I will talk about infertility with everyone. When I get that oh so lovely comment on “just adopt, there are so many children/babies who need homes” I try to educate. I will discuss my journey with just about anyone. I’ve also met some amazing people this way who have tried and struggled and made it or tried and struggled and not. It’s been a hell of a ride and while I can’t say I’m happy that I’ve had infertility I can be very thankful for the people that it has brought into my life.
I think sharing your story is powerful and helpful to others in the same position. I choose Other because that is not my story. Not all your readers are members of that sisterhood. Some of us are drawn to you for other reasons.
Karen- thanks.
Just wanted to say that this is a great post and I’m so happy that you are finding yourself so not alone. We didn’t deal with infertility on our end, but of course, we did lack sperm and there’s the whole two mommies deal that we have to explain…but we do explain each and every time and hopefully there have been a lot of eyes that have been opened.
I talk about IF often, but generally don’t talk about our use of DS. I try to view every time I speak about IF and ART as “teachable moments.” I refrain from the DS stuff, though, because I’ve found that any discussion of DS is where I get really rude comments.
I’ll do it when it seems obvious. Most people are rather aware of my sordid obstetrical history. I won’t go out of my way to talk about it.
I would like for people who are struggling to know they can come and ask me questions.
I tell a lot of people. I’d tell everyone, but my mother is not okay with my blabbing, and so people that we both know I had to be… careful about. I am dying to talk to my boss (and my mother’s coworker) about it, as she’s going through secondary infertility and talks to me about it sometimes, but its… difficult. Because when I was trying (and failing) to become pregnant, I was not married to my S.O. And that is so looked down on in the small Southern community I live in. And now that I am gearing up to start trying on my own, I don’t know what to say. Yes, I am trying to get pregnant. No, I am not married. The horror!
But people not connected to my mom, I tell easily. Why not? I’m not embarrassed. It sucks. It REALLY sucks. I had more than half a dozen miscarriages. They weren’t fun. But they come up in conversation, oddly enough, pretty often. As in, didn’t you go to ____? Why didn’t you ____? Oh, because I was pregnant at the time… Or the fact that my body is different now. My breasts grew, and grew, with every pregnancy, and didn’t ever go down. People I’ve known since high school are like, um… did you have those done? Nope, just got pregnant. Several times. No, I don’t have any kids.
The last time I was pregnant, I told everyone. Look, I’m pregnant. And I’m not taking any chances. I’ve lost 6, and I don’t want to lose this one too. This pregnancy was hard to come by. No, I’m not doing anything. I’m going to sit right here and try not to lose it. But I did.
Why hold it in? Why suffer in silence? I know so many people who have lost, who have dealt with infertility. We’re connected that way. And as much as it sucks to know that others have suffered like this – its nice to know that I’m not alone.
Yes, I mention it easily. Usually when people ask me if I’m having more. As if I had a lot of control around that.
I do have to say, now that my girl is 3.5, (well, until my recent issues,) it has been less something on my mind than before.
Or maybe we just interact with fewer people now that we’ve moved.
Yay you for making friends!
I’m all sniffly. *hugs*
I do, though not always. I’m not really sure how I pick when I do and don’t, it’s kind of arbitrary. But – ESPECIALLY when I was pregnant – I strongly felt the need for people to understand how hard-won that pregnancy was. Even with ‘just’ my one loss.
“Plow job”!! What a dfference one little letter makes!!!
My/Our experience Is much different than yours, but in some ways the same. I talk about adoption without hesitation…whether our hopes to do so now or my own adoption as well as meeting my biological mother and sibs. I do so because I hate the secrecy and the stigmatism that surrounded adoption back when I was born. It’s our experiences that really unite us with one another. I firmly believe that…it brought you to Iowa last year! =)
What a great post. I’m so glad that you’re talking about it. You are inspiring other women to do the same and giving hope when they look at W.
I didn’t deal with infertility but since we created our family with known donor sperm and we are two mom’s, we get questions. And I am always brutally honest (down to the cup we used for the sperm). I think it’s important that we talk about these “secret” things. As we talk about them they become less secret.
GO YOU!
What a great story about sharing!
I tell people too. I really liked how you shared–I think I might take that up. Just Friday, people were asking how my pregnancy was going–and it’s going really well (knock on wood!), so I say that, but I also tack on that it was a struggle to get here, or he’s an IVF baby, etc… I feel the same way–it’s about raising awareness and it’s about opening the door to connections–for me, that makes it important to share.
I don’t talk about it, mainly because many of my “friends” have distanced themselves from me since I began TTC. I hope hope hope that one day I can be open with it, but if I never have a child then I think it would be too painful to ever bring up.
Obviously, I’ll agree with what Trish V said, She is, after all, my wife, and we’ve been on this journey together.
We don’t talk so much about infertility, We talk more about “our path to parenthood”, the diagnosis Trish got early on, our experiences with foster care, and our progress with adoption. It’s different than your path, but it’s still as bumpy and heartbreaking as others. We’re going on 5 years ourselves too.
I’m totally a teller. I don’t know how many times I’ve said something along the lines of, “You know how the normal uterus looks like a pear? Mine is more like two little jalapeno peppers, joined at the bottom.” I’ve even drawn pictures on napkins! I’m sure it’s way too much information for the majority of the world. Don’t really care.
And that is how being infertile got me a plow job-LOVE IT!!!!
I will talk about it with anyone. I’ve never understood why people don’t talk about it. If you talk about other medical conditions, why not infertility? Our issue is MFI, and to my husband’s credit, he will talk about it too, and his whole large extended family knows exactly why we needed IVF. I don’t tell people why we needed it if he isn’t around, solely because that part of it isn’t my information to share, but I will tell anyone who will listen that we are infertile, we can’t get pregnant without a team of doctors, and frankly, I’m just grateful the medical technology exists.
I’ve always been very open from day one- despite my very private husband. He knew when he married me that he was marrying a woman who was taking up causes, so he just got in step behind me.
I was surprised, in the beginning, for 5 friends to come out of the closet to me. Most of them told only me. Since then, I’ve become the unofficial infertility expert for the gal who cuts my hair, coworkers, friends of friends, and now, my own brother and his fiancee, who have been dealing with recurrent pregnancy loss.
Glad I’ve never learned to keep my big yap shut.
I get a lot of comments about how I “got” my daughter because I’m married to a woman, and so of course they are already assuming intervention. But I always make a point to mention that I have fertility problems, too. Because umm, it’s real, and it’s there, and I didn’t JUST go to an RE because I’m queer.
Love you.
Aw, that is so awesome.
You’re killing me with the “plow job” thing : )
It turns out that our neighbors down the block are in the process of adopting from the same adoption agency. We invited them over for dinner this week, and within a half hour, the Mister and I knew all about Mr. Neighbor’s low sperm count and they knew all about my IVFs. I don’t talk about IF at work, but otherwise, if someone wants to listen, I’m willing to dish as much info as they can tolerate!
I’m still in the “I love snow because it’s new and shiny” camp too, but I have to admit: I enjoy it much more when I am looking out at it from indoors!: )
am i the only one crying? i only went through a year and a half, but with everything they were telling us we had accepted that we would not be able to have one of our own without some serious soul-searching about how far we were willing to go. and then we decided to adopt and we were completely emotionally committed to the idea that our child was “out there” somewhere rather than within. and then an HSG had the side effect of (apparently) unblocking my tube and we had some surprise good news.
it’s taken me three months to realize that it’s really happening and feel it’s ok to talk about it. like if i talk about it, the talking will cause it to cease to exist. life is full of surprises, and surprise friends.
What a cool experience!
Honestly, I tell anyone and everyone who will listen about what infertility is like.
Sing it, sister! Loud and proud. I’m such a blabbermouth, I tell almost everyone. I show people pictures of Squeaker’s brother and sister in Canada. (She really looks so much like her sister did at this age. After all, they were conceived the same day.)
Can’t wait to meet you f2f and give you an enormous hug. Then swap babes (that wouldn’t be here without this community) for snuggles. xoxo!
I share our story all the time to strangers cos for way too long infertility has been in the closet – something to be ashamed of, something that you never want to admit to being exposed to, something that others consider “contagious”… and all too often when one opens up about one’s own struggle you come to find that there are way too many women who know just how you’re feeling, just what you’re going through but did not share their stories for fear of being branded. It’s good for those who can’t bring themselves to talk about their strife that they are NOT alone, they are NOT freaks of nature and that they too have a story to share that could help others like them (and me).
xxx
The topic came up after story hour at the library the other day…all of a sudden each woman started telling her story and 4 out of 5 of us had some sort of fertility assistance. The stories just flowed out and none of us cared who was hearing.
I am pretty open about it in general. And I’ve found that doing so opens other people up too.
I was just thinking about this today. While my issues are not exactly the same, I seldom mention my dead babies and the surrogacies. It just doesn’t come up and I just don’t want to get into it. If my “only”* issue were IF, I think (though, of course, I’m not sure) I’d feel free to tell everyone…
*I put “only” in quotation marks not because I’m trying to minimize its impact, but because I’ve never thought of myself as infertile and can only imagine how it must feel.
Oh, and when you said “plow job,” I was totally confused. In fact, I thought that perhaps you meant this woman had set you up with job driving a snow plow to earn a little extra money. Yeah, I’m an idiot.
I used to talk about it a lot more than I do now. If I ever hear of anyone I know going through all the infertility workups, I’ll talk to them, share with them if they want to know, let them know that any time they want someone to talk to who’s been there, I’m there. But people don’t always want to hear from me because I’m one of the unsuccessful stories. No kids. No successful IVF, no adoption nothing. Just me, my husband, and the dogs. And I do have people I can talk to when the feelings of longing and sorrow become too great to handle. And if anyone ever asks my story, I share it.
Having read my post “Passport Children,” you know that this is a topic that I somewhat still struggle with. I’m so glad I wrote that post because the comments that I received on it – yours included – have helped me begin to shape a new attitude towards talking openly about my inability to get pregnant easily. I find myself now becoming more vocal about it and sharing. And I’ve found that it doesn’t take much of a comment to feel out where the other stands on infertility/fertility. Just a little quip like yours – “It wasn’t exactly easy to get my four kids…” and in an instant I know whether I’m talking with a sister at arms or, from the blank stare and quick move-on, someone who is completely clueless. The most satisfying reaction, though, have been the couple of times where I’ve stumbled onto someone who is having trouble conceiving but is only at the start and doesn’t know whether to make heads or tails of their non-conceptions. Twice since I’ve written that post, I’ve found someone who, with wide eyes upon hearing that it took some treatment for me to get pg or that I’ve been through and know a lot about IVF because of my surrogacies, have asked for more information about infertility and what their next steps should be. Feeling like I have some answers and like I can pass on along a little hope that it’s possible — that’s indescribable.
Funny you should write this. I was at a jewelry store recently (had gift certificates from Christmas), and I started talking to the owner. She asked about my husband and I told her that I was SMC, she apologized for assuming I was married. I told her no worries and I was happy to be a mother at all because it was a long shot to say the least. An hour of chatting later, I found out that she had 5 miscarriage, include a stillbirth at 20 weeks which happened at home, She told me it was nice to talk to someone who “gets it”. I’m pretty open because I’m am eternally grateful for Lu and I IF is nothing to be ashamed of, so I’ll keep talking.
So Mrs. Alpaca is one of us too? We are everywhere.
A plow job? never mind, I just thought… oh. the snow.
Right now I’m counting on people like you to talk about this because we are too deeply entrenched. It’s too hard and present and personal to discuss with most people because we don’t know how our IF story is going to ‘end.’ But I plan to talk about and bring it up once we have our baby. And I’m so thankful for people like you who are putting it out there now.
I’m a single mother by choice as well, and also went the IVF route. For a long time I was very vocal about my infertility journey, but I’ve found now that my girls are reaching two, I’m quieter. I don’t feel the need to wave my IF flag always anymore. I’m still open about my story and will help anyone I can, with any knowledge or research I can, but I do it more on my terms now.
I used to talk about the infertility thing all the time but now that my son is 21 it no longer seems germane. People sometimes ask how long we were married before our son was born and I’ll tell them five years. Sometimes I’ll add that we were infertile for three years and I found out I was pregnant the week I was accepted to law school and a month after we started working with an adoption agency.
My hubby was already a third of the way through law school and I went ahead and became a first year law student with morning sickness, bloating and all kinds of malaise. We told the adoption agency thanks but no thanks.
I had the baby and found out that one of my fallopian tubes was permanently off duty from scar tissue resulting from an operation to remove my left kidney, thus solving the mystery of why it took so long to get pregnant.
It was an exciting adventure but once our son was born we were busy with raising him and building our careers. I’ll never forget what it felt like to long for a baby with every fiber of my being and not know if I’d ever have one of my own but time goes by and other things take precedence. Our son is a much-loved college student now and we’re a very happy family of three. I feel extremely blessed.
it took me 4 years, and i got ivf triplets. having multiples, it’s almost impossible NOT to (at the very least) get the questions: “are they natural?” “was it drugs?” “does it run in your family?”
and of course…”you got it all over with in one shot!”
which leads, of course, to the possible disclosure of my full-term dead baby. i, too, talk about it to promote some kind of normalcy for us dead baby moms. infertility…stillbirth…omg. sometimes i wonder what it’s like to live with a non-destroyed reproductive self.
despite all of that, YES. i talk about the infertility, the treatments, the baby death. if we don’t talk about it, then what?
I’m right there with you. I also, however, have noticed the opposite. I feel exceedingly disconnected from other mothers who have not dealt with infertility in some way.