This isn't meant to be a blog about infertility or miscarriage but since that is a big part of my life these days, that will be what I write about some of the time. I also have a great husband and two really fun daughters, so sometimes this will be more of a mommy blog. My father-in-law sometimes tells me to return to blogging to document the funny things that happen in our lives so sometimes I'll do that. I will try to be clear in my post titles and in the first few sentences as to which category each post falls. That way if you are here for the funny quotes from my girls or pictures from our park outing, you won't have to read all the sordid details of my broken reproductive system. Likewise, if you are here looking for someone who understands all about the emotional roller coaster of infertility or the heartache of a miscarriage, you won't have to wade through all the cutesy kid stuff you are trying to avoid.
As I am currently waiting to miscarry a second baby, today's post will be heavy on the broken reproductive system and I'll save the kid stuff for another day.
After nearly two years of diagnosed secondary infertility and during a bout of insomnia brought on by my hormonal imbalance, I typed out a list of experiences and emotions that describe secondary infertility for me. I titled it Secondary Infertility Is......Kind of like the book Happiness is a Warm Puppy, but not quite as warm and fuzzy. Over the last 18 months I've slowly added to the list here and there and it's quite a long list. I'd like to take time to flesh out some of those experiences so I'll write about them a few at a time when I am feeling the need to share that information. Here is the first installment:
Secondary Infertility is....
Feeling like God forgot about you.
Yes, I know this is very much untrue and yet it's so hard to not fall into this line of thinking when sitting at Mass at watching the large families file through the communion line. I know what you're thinking: Close your eyes and pray during communion like you should be doing. You won't have to see all the big families that way. You are right. That is what I do now. But for about a year or so, the only way I could keep my two year old quiet during communion was to play "I spy babies" with her. Exactly the game an infertile woman wants to play. The things we do for our children.
Forcing yourself to go to playdates for the sake of your children.
This is some I used to do on a regular basis when my girls were younger. I felt it was unfair to them for me to isolate them from other children just because I had a hard time talking to the other moms about their pregnancies and newborns. After a few years, it just became too difficult and I quit doing it. My girls play with their cousins and with our homeschool co-op families. While they enjoyed playing with the other kids, they didn't fit into the group anymore as the other kids were all part of big families and played together frequently at other times. In addition, I wasn't exactly a pleasant person after the playdate while I wallowed a bit in my self-pity. It didn't seem fair to the girls or myself to attend these big playdates. I handle smaller playdates with one or two moms much more easily.
Crying silently in the middle of the night so your husband doesn’t hear you.
Jon has been there for me throughout this experience and is always willing to offer a shoulder to cry on or listen to me cry, rant, hyperventilate, etc. I haven't always wanted him to know, however, the extent to which this diagnosis affects me. It's with me every single day and every single night. Some of those nights my mind goes to dark, horrible places and I don't care to drag anyone there with me. I have perfected the art of the silent cry. You know, because I'm a perfectionist. If I'm going to silent cry in the middle of the night, I'm going to be better at it than anyone.
Being jealous of the pregnant moms in children's books.
You know the books I'm talking about right? Franklin's Baby Sister. A Baby Sister for Frances. The Berenstain Bears' New Baby. My girls loved them all. Sadly that phase hit right around the time of my first miscarriage. The day after I learned I lost the baby, my daughter brought me Franklin's Baby Sister and asked me to read it to her. I burst into tears and probably scared my three year old who didn't yet know about our baby. That particular book is my least favorite of all the new baby books. In addition to feeling silly for being jealous of a pregnant turtle, I feel ridiculous for being upset that the mommy turtle doesn't even ever look pregnant. There's no bump, no larger shell, no swollen ankles or puffy face. Just a calm, patient non-bloated turtle teaching my children that babies come in the spring. I might not be as over that book as I thought I was. Thankfully the girls have forgotten Franklin in their move to I Can Read books. So far they haven't found any books entitled Henry & Mudge & The New Baby or Nate The Great and the Case of the Newborn. I pray that continues.
That is just the tip of the iceberg of my giant list (which for those of you who know me is arranged chronologically and also by topic, but strangely NOT in a spreadsheet) but my children are up and I need to focus my attention on them for now. I'll write more tomorrow.....or next week.....or whenever the Spirit moves me.
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