I get a lot of email from fellow infertiles that just need to vent. These women have stories to tell, but nowhere to tell them. Sure, they share them in bits and pieces with their partners and loved ones along the way…but sometimes they have some feelings to share that aren’t so share-friendly in large groups. I’m so glad these infertiles have found me and trust me and feel safe within the pages of Clomid and Cabernet. Because, honestly? That’s the whole reason I started this site. Today a fellow infertile has a few things to say, and I promised to share them on her behalf. I’m sure many of you can identify with her…
“Things I Really Want to Say”
This cycle seems to be incredibly difficult. It is just my third IUI but with new drugs (and this being the last IUI before IVF), the snark fills my brain constantly. Whatever coping mechanism works, right? I bite my tongue and just try to make it through to the end of the infamous two-week wait.
But secretly, this is what I’m saying in my head…
To my childless and not trying friends: Please stop using the word “breeder” to refer to parents. I know you seem to think that because I am also childless, I find babies and toddlers and kids grating. I don’t; I desperately want one. I can’t share in your diatribes.
To those who find out: Yes, yes, if I would just relax my ovaries would somehow magically produce 24 follicles each month. Why didn’t I think of that?
To those who complain about other’s fertility treatments: Selfish? Wasteful? Shut the frack up.
To the other women in the waiting room: We are all here for the same reason. Each of you, every time I see you, make me feel better, make me feel less alone. The diversity of you – the thinner and the heavier, the younger and the older, the married and singles, the gay and the straight – help me give myself a break on the self-blame. Maybe, just maybe, we can muster up a good morning while we do our third day of blood draw and ultrasound this week.
To my best friend: Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for listening to way too much detailed information about side effects. And thanks for responding to reports of blue discharge with the ever-important question, “Are you having an affair with a Smurf?”
To my partner: I wish I could make you understand how much I wish I did not snap at you at the littlest things when my emotional health is on the verge due to extraneous hormones. Thank you for holding my hand when the substitute doctor refused to use a smaller speculum. Also, the high five after the sperm count announcement might be superfluous…
What thoughts run through your mind when you’re feeling down about infertility?