I know it’s the end of January, but I am still relieved that the holiday insanity is over with and that I finally have some energy to write and reflect. I was even able to enjoy a schedule-free Saturday morning in bed reading, sipping coffee, and gazing at the leafless trees outside of our window.
Our dog, Keeva, has a stuffed tooting sloth that she adores, named Benji, who was lying in bed with me. Keeva leapt up and grabbed him, gave him a quick shake, then nestled down and started giving him a bath. I observed her for several minutes. She’d lick a certain spot, then smell him, adjust his position, then bathe. It was delightfully fascinating to observe our four-legged friend nurture her stuffed tooting sloth, and it dawned on me how powerful her instinct is to nurture and care for something. This instinct is primal and connects us to one another, and I feel it too, Keeva.
I have officially entered the bitter stage of infertility grieving. When I’m not at home with the one person that gets it and that I can lean on for support, I find myself longing for my bed. Longing for a warm place to wrap myself up and drift off into sleep so that I don’t have to feel bitter about everything. I even deleted Facebook and Instagram off of my phone because seeing pregnant bellies and beautiful children (that I love, mind you) makes my bitterness boil over. I also didn’t realize how addicted I was! I rely on it for mind-numbing distraction, and that mind-numbing distraction only makes me feel worse about our situation.
The holidays were especially hard on me this year. Another Christmas without “Baby’s First Christmas” pajamas was enough to drive me mad. All I wanted to do was retreat to a place of comfort to be alone with my emotions. We did enjoy wonderful holiday celebrations with both sides of our family, but it was difficult to be in the present moment and let down my guard. If you’ve dealt with infertility, or if you grieve over the holidays, I know you can relate.
I realize now that between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve I was doing all that I could to avoid the “fertility conversation” because I don’t want to talk to anyone about it. Here I am wanting to start a business that sheds light on infertility and gives people space to talk about it, and I can’t even do that!
I have noticed lately, too, that there’s an elephant in the room when suffering with infertility. It’s ALWAYS there. My cousin who went through it and went on to have two healthy baby girls said to me, “I’ve noticed that you withdraw from the group when we’re together because it’s always on your mind.” And I do. Because it IS all I think about.
Everything is wrapped up in this delicate dance of showing up in the world as my happy self while being plagued with intense sadness. What I’m slowly realizing is that there is no separation between the two. I am whole the way that I am and however I show up is perfect. I just don’t like being a blubbering mess in front of people!
FERTILITY BENEFITS!!!!!!
In my October blog post, I wrote that we were beginning fertility treatments soon, and at that point that was our plan. However, right after that, I was offered a job WITH FERTILITY BENEFITS!! This has lifted a lot of financial stress off of our shoulders and opened a lot of doors. It kills me that not every couple has access to fertility benefits. In a nutshell, we basically have two shots at IVF, with fertility coverage saving us $22,194.00 a pop. That is a lot of money and considering there are 1 in 8 struggling with infertility, it’s heartbreaking that most couples don’t even have the option to try. I think Michelle Obama (who brought her two children into the world with IVF) should use some of her money from speaking engagements to open a foundation to help less fortunate people with fertility payments. Maybe I’ll write her a letter.
We’ve decided not to talk about the details of our fertility plan with anyone this time around. What has been confirmed over the past four years is that I’m a highly sensitive person (HSP), and I can’t go through this and field questions from loved ones at the same time.
To be honest, I simply can’t bear any more unsolicited advice or hear another “That’s exciting!” when we say we’re gearing up to dive into fertility treatments. Really, it’s not exciting. I am terrified. The expectation of the end result of delivering a healthy baby is exciting, but there’s no guarantee for that. I keep telling myself that it will all be worth it and that IT. WILL. WORK. Graeme does a good job of reminding me that we need to remain positive, and that it will happen. I agree, I really do, but I think it’s different for men and women. I’ll be a human pin cushion and even more of a hormonal maniac than I am now. One day, one appointment at a time, right?
I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Another reason why we want to keep our plan private is that we want to be able to enjoy the surprise when (when, not if, damnit) we tell people that we’re expecting. Those that are lucky enough to conceive without Western medical intervention get to announce, “We’re pregnant!” and have a joyful cry with friends and family. Well, we want that too. So, here we are, signing off and joining hands and hearts as one to embark on this emotional, mystifying, exhausting, and beautiful journey. We’re hunkering down to love each other, nurture ourselves, laugh at Keeva, and take solace in the fact that we do live a beautiful life together, right now in this moment, even though there’s a colossal, sad hole in it. Let’s do this, #modernbabystewart.
We’re still holding out hope that one year soon, on December 26, I’ll be washing some Baby’s First Christmas pajamas.