Hope on the Rocks

This is a poem that was posted in a recent issue of the "Stepping Stones" newsletter from Bethany.  This poem beautifully captures how I feel everyday so I thought I would post it here. I imagine it is how many of you feel as well.


Hope on the Rocks
by Kim Caloca

Today someone's hopes lay dying against the rocks
Today the waves come crashing down
Reminding her of what is not to be
Reminding her that in nine months there will be no tiny feet
Her husband's eyes won't be staring back
Her nose won't be crinkled on another little face
She beats the ground with her balled up fist
She wipes the tears and puts on a calm face
Wondering if this dream will ever come to pass
Wondering if this nightmare will ever fade at last
Advice is offered once again, it's not the right time
Advice is offered once again, relax and it will happen
But the pain still feels the same, gut-wrenching
But the pain still feels the same, heart-breaking
And no amount of comfort can be offered
And no consoling words can bring relief
She watches other ships in the distance
She watches other families grow and evolve
In the flotsam and jetsam she waits, struggling to stay afloat
In the cold harsh water she clings to the cross she bears

Maybe I am Not so Crazy!!!

Before I met the women in my infertility support group I thought I was insane, completely nuts.  I think many of the women in the group felt the same way about themselves.  Realizing that I wasn't as nuts as I thought I was one of the many blessings these women brought into my life.

I remember walking though the mall with Mark about two years ago and saying, "If I see one more pregnant woman, I think I am going to scream!"  Okay, so maybe this wasn't just one time, maybe it's every time we go to the mall and maybe once or twice there was a comment about going a little further than just screaming!!  See what I mean about being a little crazy?!?

I don't think my fertile friends get how painful it is to see pregnant women or women with new babies, so I try to keep these comments to myself.   I don't want everyone else in the world to know what a lunatic I am.  But all of my craziness came spewing out in the first meeting of my infertility support group, and to my surprise every single woman in the group had experienced the same feelings.  One of the women even admitted to not having gone to the mall for over a year because she just couldn't deal with it.  For some reason, hearing this was like a huge weight being lifted off of my shoulders.  I think knowing that what I was feeling was "normal" made me feel a little less alone in this journey.

I don't know why the mall is one of the most painful places to go.  Perhaps it is because of the army of strollers coming at you as you walk through the mall or the protruding bellies that seem to appear on every-other woman you see.  Or, maybe it is the ominous play area that reminds me what a failure my ovaries have been to me.  I long to be the woman strolling through the mall, going into Motherhood Maternity and picking out a cute new outfit to accentuate my blossoming belly.  I long to be pushing a stroller with my beautiful bundle of joy inside.  Instead, I am bombarded with constant reminders of all the things I will probably miss out on because of my bum ovaries.

For women who have been given the dreaded diagnosis (infertility), being surrounded by pregnant women can be painful.   For me, I don't know that it is as much about jealousy as it is about being reminded that I may never get to experience the joy of being pregnant or having a baby.  Some of the things I grieve I know seem silly to the everyday Fertile Myrtle.  I grieve not getting to feel a baby move inside me, I grieve not getting to experience childbirth, I grieve not getting to breastfeed.  But it's not just the physical stuff.  It's the silly little things like not getting to give my baby a bath or go to a parent-teacher conference. 

Another item on the list of things I grieve is never getting to have a baby shower.  The dreaded baby shower.  I think any infertile woman can relate to the pain of the baby shower.  In fact, my infertile friends and I have spent many hours exchanging excuses to use to get out of having to go to baby showers.  Now, it's not that we don't love our fertile friends--we do.  It is simply that spending two hours gushing over how wonderful it is to be pregnant and what a joy the new baby will be is like a knife to the heart of the infertile woman.  OUCH!  Sitting as the mom-to-be opens all of her adorable gifts always brings a tear to my eye because I know that that will probably never be me.  As much as I want to rejoice about my friend's impending miracle, the bigger part of my wants to go home, crawl under the covers, and cry about hole in my heart/uterus that is never going to be filled.

About a year ago, during a conversation about a baby shower, I said that I just can't do it (throw or attend another shower) and the response I got was, "You are going to have to get over it someday."  I know I can't expect the average Fertile Myrtle to understand but in that moment, I wasn't able to find my voice and explain why it is so painful to watch "everyone" around me having babies while I am left with a barrage of shots, medications, and unfulfilled dreams. 

I have to say, that three years into this journey, it is getting better and I am slowly finding my voice.  Most days I can handle the mall and maybe even a baby shower here and there.  I still have days where I just can't handle looking at another preggo or seeing facebook posts about my friends' kids, but I suppose I have developed better coping skills as time has gone on.  I am more aware of my feelings and know when I need to shut of the computer or not answer a call from a fertile friend.  And, I have learned that it is okay to just send a gift and skip the baby shower.  I need to take care of me and part of that is knowing and naming my boundaries.  It is often hard to draw those lines but take it from this line-drawing lady, creating boundaries helps cut back on those tear-filled days spent curled up under the covers.

In the beginning.....

My husband, Mark, and I have been on quite the journey over the past three year.  After a long struggle with trying to get pregnant, we now find ourselves in the midst of a new journey--the journey to adoption.

It all started when we decided to try to have a baby 3 years ago.  We tried....and tried....and tried.  And, obviously, nothing happened.  So, we began pursuing infertility treatment.  That was a long, painful, and inevitably, fruitless endeavor.  In the midst of the infertility battle we got licensed for foster care/adoption through the state and took a little boy who we thought was going to be the answer to our prayers.  In the end, it didn't work out and we were left to grieve yet another loss.  Also, in the midst of treatments, I started an infertility support group.  Through the group, I connected with several amazing, strong, and determined women who helped me down my path.

And, here we are today...after lots of failed attempts at starting a family, we have finally turned to a private adoption agency.  For the first time in three years, we are at peace with where we are in our journey.  We are working with an agency in Chicago, Adoption Link, and are so blessed to have found them.  Finding an agency that was in-line with our beliefs and convictions was difficult but finding Adoption Link has been a miracle.  We have an incredible worker who is responsive and caring and we are confident that we are exactly where we should be.

I am starting this blog for many reasons...

First of all, just to write.  This journey has been hard and painful and I have found that "talking" about it has helped me in ways that I never imagined it could.

Second, I am writing because my friends and family members are always asking where we are in the process, so I figured this would be a good forum to keep people informed.

But, most importantly, I am hoping my blog can reach people who are silently dealing with infertility.  As I settled into my infertility diagnosis, I began talking.  And, as I began talking, I found so many women who had been suffering silently and who felt isolated and alone.  Most statistics say that 2.1 million women in the US experience infertility.  Chances are someone you know is silently suffering--maybe your sister, your cousin, or even your best friend.  I want to break down the shrouds of silence and talk about it.  Women need to know that they are not alone.

Also, along the way, I have found that people don't know what to say to those they love who are dealing with infertility.  I hope to give some suggestions and support to those who love someone with infertility.