Thursday, April 26, 2007

Hope vs Infertility

Some days I don’t know why I do it. Reading your blogs about being in the middle of an IUI or IVF cycle, talking about follicles, triggering, or holding your breath during the 2ww – I must be crazy.

A while ago I was desperate in my despair: googled everything I could find on life after Infertility, struggling to find something to hold onto so that the familiar blackness wouldn’t pull me under and drown me this time. There was no one I could talk to about the resurfacing depression caused by my Infertility. It’s like last year’s news – old and dusty and supposed to be in the archives.

Somewhere during my frantic search I discovered someone’s words, followed a link to another blog, and another and that’s how I got here. Reading other blogs about IF helped me back to sanity. Some days more, some days less, but in the big scheme of things it helps me heal.

My time for IUI and IVF is over. I’ll never go that way again.

At first I thought it was some kind of self flagellation reading about your hopes and dreams of still beating Infertility and graduating as mothers, having the families you’ve been dreaming of, when my dreams are so absolutely something of the past.

Some nights when I close my eyes to go to sleep, I feel a sense of panic that I might be discovered and exposed as a masochist.

But you know, I keep going back because the hope I find in your blogs fills my reserves in a strange way. The hope that maybe, just maybe this time it will work for you, and that you’ll beat the IF monster that threatens to devour every single one of your dreams.

I keep going back because I want to read about your success where I have failed. Whether it’s your success in becoming pregnant, or making your marriage work despite IF. Your victories, even though you’re strangers in another world, would be a small victory for me as well.

Yes, sometimes it hurts me more reading about your hope of a pregnancy, reading about your husbands, about their support, love and comfort, but it’s not all that bad you know. It keeps my hope alive that maybe some day, when I’m ready to love again, someone would come into my life that would understand how IF changed me, and love me despite of that.

Thank you for your support, your comments, for the blogs you write, and for pinning down elusive words to describe the emotions in my soul.

But mostly, thank you for keeping my hope alive.


Jill Briscoe said: “I discovered that sorrow was not to be feared but rather endured with hope and expectancy that God would use it to bless my life.”

3 comments:

Pamela Jeanne said...

Thanks for your empathy today in response to my post. Much appreciated. Like you, Karen, I wonder about my strange fascination with those in the heat of the IF treatments. Each time I hear one of our "sisters" managed to beat back the IF monster (good visual, BTW), I become a little less angry, a little less bitter because I know that they succeeded where I did not. The good will feeling lets me know that I'm becoming a better person because I can now wish them well instead of secretly nashing my teeth (which would have been my reaction a few years back). Ever onward...

sharah said...

One of my favorite phrases from blogland is: "I'm holding your hope for you when you can't hold it yourself."

This community is all about hope. Sometimes the hope is fulfilled, sometimes it ends in failure. But the biggest thing for me is that I am not alone anymore -- there are other women out there who are going or have gone through the same thing, and they can hope for me even when I can't myself.

I'm holding hope for you, that you are able to overcome the way IF has abused you in the past.

Artblog said...

Hi there,

Glad to have come across your blog today, you write well.

I may/will give up myself pretty soon and am impressed with your strength so far. I read a few other blogs about life after infertility but they are quite elusive, I guess people tend to give up on blogging when that happens.

I'm sorry you lost your marriage over it, that must be hard to deal with.

Wishing you all the best.

X Artblog