There's been a lot of talk lately on the various infertility blogs* I follow about how to define yourself when you conceive or adopt after years of fertility treatments. Mainly this talk abounds because almost every infertile blogger on the internet, adopted or got pregnant and well, stayed pregnant last year. Now in blogs where the main topic was "falling in love with my RE (who cringes when he sees me)", it's more apt to be "falling in love with mini-me (who cries every time he can't see me)."
I find myself asking the same question. After over 5 years of infertility treatments; from invasive procedures, & countless tests, to numerous IUI's, 2 IVF's and a terrifying nine month nail-biting session; what am I now? Who am I now?
I really did define myself by those tiresome trying to have a baby years. I was that classic infertile women who feels uncomfortable at mom/baby events, who felt left out of a whole class of women involved in the revolution of motherhood. This was a group I wasn't allowed to be a part of. It felt kind of like being 8 years old all over again and not getting invited to Cindy Grummbacher's birthday party. I mean everybody in the class got to go except me! Everybody got to see that huge house and they talked about it for days. New friendships were formed at that birthday party. Not getting to go to that party defined the rest of the school year for me. The whole rest of the year I was the oddball. Because you see one event, or one series of events can put you in a particular group for a long, long time. So here in my adult years I think I'm in the infertile camp. Maybe it's because I'm trying to conceive again that I feel this way but I'm not so sure.
Last month we invited a colleague of Seb's, his wife and their two kids for dinner. She's pregnant again with their third, a planned pregnancy. The discussion between us women turned from child raising to spacing out children, and I sheepishly confided in her that we were trying again for a second baby. She looked at baby S wriggling in my arms, "Oh God ... so soon!" she gasped and covered her mouth for effect. "I don't know...hmmm...that's going to be awfully close" And then she continued and continued to comment, telling me stories of crazed motherhood with two underfoot, of jealous sibling rivalries, of hair pulling and brink of madness days. At that point in the glaring light of her astonishment, I began to feel a little ridiculous for even considering a second child. And, so to defend myself I spilled out the whole entire story of how we'd been infertile for several years. I explained that we had to try soon because we'd lost seven years trying to conceive the first, and now were in a rush to complete the family we had originally wanted (and deserved but I didn't add that even though I wanted to). She narrowed her eyes a little vacantly and nodded her head sympathetically as if searching for an equivalent story to make light of my situation. Then she changed the subject. So here I was finally able to do the mommy bonding thing and I was right back in the infertility camp all alone. It's a comfortable place actually so maybe that's why I ended up sharing the story in the first place. Being out there in "fertile" country, recklessly having baby number two right after baby one was just too tight a squeeze for me. I had to redefine myself as the "really just trying so quickly because I'm pretty sure it won't work" person as quickly as I could. I had to define myself as the infertile woman.
I don't think we ever leave the infertility camp. Those painful years so profoundly change who we are. Something akin to the phenomenon where a released prisoner can't quite reintegrate into society after spending all those years in a controlled environment, so he keeps getting himself thrown back in the can. Or maybe the lost look of a soldier fresh from the war observing the mundane normalcy of kids going off to school on a Tuesday morning. He keeps signing up for more tours of duty because he just can't relate with how a peaceful society functions. I feel a little lost like that sometimes, only relating to pregnancy war stories and battle scars. And, only functioning in the realm of rigid & controlled reproductive methods. Making babies? Fun and pleasurable? Uh no, sorry not in my world. I just can't identify with that. That's not who I am.
Several years from now I imagine I'll be sunning on Miami beach with my retired female cohorts and one of them will say "and right after Caleb was born I skipped a pill and Emily was conceived," and then someone else will say "yes, well I was three months pregnant with Irene before I realized it..." And then I'll share my story and they'll all stop talking and smile vacantly just like they do today. They'll each rack their brains for a similar story about someone they know who was infertile.** Even that many years from now I think I'll still be the oddball in the mothering group.
I don't think I can be rehabilitated into fertile feminine society nor do I think I want or need to at this point. I've leaned to identify with this beast that formulated my entire 30's. It's part of who I am now. And, like a prisoner or war veteran, I find it strangely and remarkably comfortable here aligned with the women I've met who are just like me. There's incredible camaraderie in tragedy, be it the bittersweet kind or the happily ever after variety.
*Both Julie a& getupgrrl wrote eloquently on this subject. Check it out.
**Although the way things are headed there may be a lot more IF stories to share in this fictional scenario
4 comments:
Hey Chris -
Even though I am not one of those who ever had to go to "infertility camp." I have friends and family who have been there . . some never got to leave. Even the ones who were lucky enough to leave the camp, still left a piece of themselves there. It is like a sorority I think. Even once you graduate, you are still a member, an alumni of sorts.
I, on the other hand, was lucky enough to get to not have to go there. I had times where, if a pill was forgotten or a "back up" source of BC was broken, would jump up & down (that doesn't work) in hopes of the little guys not reaching my eggs. I have a "surprise" child whom I got pregnant with at the age of 19. Yes ladies, you can get pregnant the "first-time." He is my first born, my first son. I wouldn't change what happened. Although, I wish I was a a little bit of a better mom back then. As I have grown, I have matured & am less selfish & more patient. IMHO, I feel that those of you that had to go to Infertility Camp, are more ready for motherhood a little bit better than some of us that didn't have to go. You had the chance to read more, learn more, & mature more while waiting to "leave camp." It's like where I work, my co-workers all have degrees, I don't. I have worked my way up in the company, they walked into similar positions after college. They went to camp & I didn't. . .
So, we all have different roads, different obstacles that lead us to our destination of Motherhood. Some of us take a long road, some of us take short-cuts, some hitchike in someone else's car, some have a very bumpy ride all the way there, and some hit a dead-end and unfortunately, never make it. I am a lucky one, I made it, my first two trips were wonderful rides, my last one was a little bumpy, but I made it safely and am thankful.
What I am trying to say is I, and I hope others who never had to go to camp, are thankful for what we have. I don't take motherhood for granted & never will.
BTW, I am glad you are on the team now & I hope you soon become a "two-star" member soon!!
-Marie :)
Chris, Thank you for sharing your story. I really felt like I was so lucky to get pregnant easily because I had friends who had to go through extraordinary methods. I try not to say insenstive things like the woman who was talking about spacing her children, but if you haven't gone through it, some questions seem harmless until you realize the consequences. I learned something from reading your story.
I am there. It is hard and depressing. Good luck to you on #2.
Marie, yes I imagine it's not easy for moms who conceived young like you. I can't really be in those shoes, but I can imagine how it must have been hard in many, many ways. Wow the first time! You must have had a heart attack when you found out. Anyway, funny how we all have our different adventures in motherhood isn't it. I really liked Tertia's "bun" analogie from a few months back. We all get a bun...some make them, some buy them, some borrow dough, some even have to borrow ovens!
Auntie M, I don't think the woman was being insensitive really. She's really nice actually! I guess I should have definitely expected her to shock at my wanting to have a baby right away. On the ttc board I post on, many of us are ttc number two right away so it's fairly common to jump right back in. I guess I didn't realize how shocking this would be to someone who can ttc normally.
I'm just pointing out how we sort of align ourselves with one group; from my perspective the infertile group; and how blind we can be to how it works for others.
Anon, good luck to you.
Sammy I figured you might read this post and go home to The Boy and say "...NOW...TODAY...BABY MAKING!!" And throw him down on the bed with a thermometer protuding from your mouth or something!
Although I stand by my wait until after 30 advice. You aren't that far away.
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