The "Weighting" Game

When my husband and I first spoke with the doctors about medical interventions for infertility, they warned that one of the side effects would probably weight gain.  Since I felt pretty confident that the treatments would lead to a baby, I didn't mind.  I wanted a baby so badly, I didn't care about the potential damage to my body.  

Three years and 30 pounds later, there was no baby.  But, there was depression.  Then the adoption fell through.  I spent two weeks laying in bed, crying, and eating cookies--none of which helped me to feel any better, but I did gain another eight pounds.  And now, because of all of the fertility drugs, my hormones are so out of whack that I am beginning menopause, which of course, doesn't help with the weight issues.

In the beginning, I thought gaining weight was no big deal because I would get a baby out of it.  I figured getting a baby was worth any toll on my body.  But, in the end, I have no baby and can barely handle looking in the mirror.

When I think about our infertility journey and when I talk with others about infertility, I usually only acknowledge the emotional pain.  Rarely do I speak about the toll that this journey has taken on my body.  But the physical toll is ever-present.  I don't think an hour goes by that I don't think about how uncomfortable I am in my own skin.  And, the weight that I now carry is another reminder of how my body has failed, and continues to fail, me.