I had this great
plan of posting my NIAW entry bright and early on Sunday morning -- so as many
people as possible would know what this week means. But I find myself staring
at a blank screen…even on Tuesday evening.
How can I express to
you what this week means to me?
The massive amount
of mixed emotions...I am overjoyed.
Bringing awareness to the crisis of infertility has become like
breathing to me. This week is dedicated to bringing awareness. My struggle, our
struggle, is being recognized by an entire community as something real, something tangible,
something worthy of recognition. Infertility
cannot be ignored.
I've walked through the beginning of this week
with a hope I haven't felt for a long time. Hope driven by the support of
community and friends. I think about those women who are at this very moment
discovering the journey to parenthood will not be as they had imagined. I think
about the woman who is sitting in the corner, weeping for the child she has
lost, the children she may never have, thinking that no one understands. I was
that woman. I have to believe that her tears
cannot be ignored. We have the power today, this week, every week to
walk alongside those suffering, to show them they are NOT alone. How
wonderfully amazing. Oh, what I would have given to know a whole mesh of others
understood.
Infertility has been
labeled the silent struggle or silent crisis because infertiles often suffer in
silence, sharing these most intimate details with only a handful of others, if
anyone at all. Often silence becomes viewed as the less of two evils -- open up
and face misunderstanding, cliches, discomfort, avoidance, and even judgment or
remain silent and maintain the status quo. Carrying this much grief and loss,
confusion and frustration, stress and anxiety wears heavily on a person, no
matter how long infertility has been hanging around one's life. We also remain
quiet simply because we've been taught not to complain. No one's dying right?
No one's deathly ill? We may have jobs, a home, an education, family and
friends…so what are we complaining about??
It means so much to
me to validate this struggle , to say "You are hurting and you have reason
to hurt!," to bring to light the sorrowful situation that many are faced
with. Calling for awareness also means calling others to stand together. When
we all stand up, open up, and speak up the struggle is no longer silent and we
are no longer alone. The crisis of infertility has a voice and we do not suffer
in vain. This week carries so much hope for us all. This includes our male
significant others, who are often overlooked and forgotten. So much of the
medical process of addressing infertility deals with women that we sometimes
forget men also are a part of this struggle. Yes, women often face the brunt of
the treatment and testing, but men, such as my husband, hurt just as much as
their female counterparts. Our men are conflicted -- wanting to be strong,
supportive, unwavering, protective, the rock we can always trust and rest upon
yet they feel crushed, brokenhearted, defeated, and often helpless that they
cannot save us from this torment of infertility -- and have few places to turn
to the support they need. Let's not forget the men that face infertility head
on with the kind of fierce determination rarely seen elsewhere.
I am overjoyed about
this week of awareness yet overwhelmingly aware infertility has left a
permanent mark.
Earlier this week I
walked to the store with my hopefulness just to stroll around the aisles and
smile to myself about the little things…like sea breeze colored nail polish. I
lost myself in the maze of pretty things, bright colors, things I don't need and
things I drool over and then found myself, caught off guard, crying and
clutching a pair of size 1 gray canvas slip-on baby shoes. Before I knew what was happening,
before I had a chance to calmly walk away, before I could drop those stupid
cute shoes on the floor the wave of tears rushed passed my eyelashes. I was a
goner. With all this shiny hope and I fall
apart here? Here. Not for years, I haven't fallen apart
in a store. What is wrong with me??
I have been doing
this for over six years. I have been raging this war so long that I can barely remember what it is like without this
cloud hovering above me. Long enough that infertility is not only something I
face, it is part of my identity. So long that I will never have the old, naïve,
carefree Jenna back, even if we do get pregnant on our own tomorrow. There are
so many losses -- tangible and unimaginable -- endured by those on this road,
one dare not try to count. Identity. Self-esteem. Control. Hope. Self-worth.
Joy. Children lost in miscarriage, stillbirth, failed adoptions. Relationships.
Intimacy. Financial stability. Faith. Trust in the world and expectations.
Lineage and legacy. I have been doing this for a long time, countless
unsuccessful cycles and Mother's days passed, you would think I've gotten the
hang of it by now.
And that's the
thing. There is no "getting the hang of it." There is no "moving
on." There is no forgetting. We can't merely ignore it and keep going.
Infertility looks us squarely in the eyes, in our most private moments, without
relenting. For the 1 in 6 of us that will struggle with infertility our lives
are forever changed. For the 10% of these who will have unexplained
infertility, we are and always will be wondering, questioning…doubting.
After six years I
still walk into a store and hold tight to tiny shoes while tears stream down. I
still need at least 2 days to recover from a baby shower. I still sob myself
dry when I get my period. Smelling a baby's soft hair still brings me to my knees…and
I am hopeful -- because I know I am not alone.
I am forever
grateful for those at RESOLVE who have designated this week to bring attention
and awareness to the struggle of infertility, for those who may be unaware. But
for those who personally wage this war and battle everyday -- with charting,
testing, pills, injections, doctors, medical bills, negative pregnancy tests,
yet another baby shower, avoiding the baby section, and miscarriage -- our
struggle does not end this week. We will continue to walk into battle. We will
face disappointment. We will walk away empty handed. We will wonder if it's
worth it while the small voice inside gives a resounding "yes." We
will continue on our journey. Our battle is never over. We are forever changed.
Although in this
week we will not end infertility, as it has been finding us since the beginning
of time I doubt it will ever end, together we can bring awareness and hope. My
hope is that just one more person may be met with comfort, support, encouragement,
or a listening ear when taking the huge step of finally opening up about
infertility. My hope is that others
choose to speak up and share their stories. My hope is that uttering the word
"infertility" is no long taboo. My hope is that we will find our
voices to say, yell and scream…
Don't ignore
infertility
Don't ignore my struggle
Don't ignore my pain
Don't ignore my story
Don't ignore the babies I've lost
Don't ignore my tears
Don't ignore us
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