Another Year Has Passed

A year ago today, I walked into a hospital with all shreds of hope for a happy ending, gone.  I walked in quietly, stoic and silent.  I don't know how I even managed to do it, except that I did.  Isn't it like that for all things you imagine you could not bear?  You simply cannot fathom how you will possibly do it, until you have to.  And then you do.

A year ago today, Mo held my hand and cried, his heart so definitively broken.    My mother flitted around me, wanting so very much to help, and unsure of how to do so.  My sister sent texts, and waited for me to be ready to talk.  My stepfather just sat there, supporting me with his simple presence.  Despite all the people surrounding me, loving me, caring for me -- I was alone.  So very, very alone.  

A year later, so much has changed.  Superficially, things seem eerily similar as they did 12 months ago.  We are living in the same house, with our pups, and no children to call our own.  We've spent the year hanging out with friends and family, working, living.  

Surviving.

And yet.

I cannot even put into words how very different things are today.  Not only in my marriage, but in ME.  I doubt most people who know me would even notice a difference -- and yet I do.  I am stronger.  I am softer.  I am more vocal, and yet more gentle, with my ideas and beliefs.  I judge less, and I comfort more.  

I am not the same.

I have survived.

WE have survived. 

And for that tiny miracle, today I am grateful.

Different Perspectives

It has struck me, on occasion, how differently some of us handle our IF than others.  All of us are facing the same uphill battle (no matter the diagnosis) to build our families.  And I'm not just talking about different choices of treatments, or adoption, but of completely different outlooks on why this is happening and how it will all play out.

On the one hand you have the perpetually-optimistic, "it will all work out in time" and "trusting in God's plan" women.  These are the blogs that I tend to avoid, as they differ so drastically from my own, personal outlook.  It's not that they are wrong -- in fact, I have much respect and admiration for women whose faith is not shaken by infertility.  I envy their confidence and assurance that everything will, eventually, work out for the best.

On the other end of the spectrum you have, well, me.  I (and others like me) have had our faith shaken to the very core.  We see no rhyme or reason to infertility, and have no confidence in any greater good that may come out of it.  I see procreation as a simple biological fact, and not a part of any plan for my life.

I say all this because just tonight I had dinner with a woman who falls on the far opposite of the spectrum from me.  She is a fellow IF-er, and our hostess for our trip to Dr. Down-to-Earth.  She and her husband have done multiple IUI's and two IVF's with no luck.  They are currently on a break, and she has been a fantastic sounding board for all things infertility: from meds to doctors to hormone upheavals, we've bitched and moaned together.  She is an amazing, strong, and brave woman and I have the utmost respect for her.  And while I know we differ on our own personal belief systems (she is religious, I am decidedly-not), I didn't realize how very opposite she and I fell on the IF spectrum until a conversation we had at dinner.  I mentioned that a friend of mine from high school had FB'd me and asked to meet for lunch while I was in town, and how I probably wouldn't because she had two young kids and I just wasn't up for it.  My hostess seemed very shocked by this, and told me not to be like that.  It's a choice, she said.  Don't be bitter.

The thing is, I AM bitter.  And I didn't tell her this, because she is a wonderful hostess and a good friend and the time wasn't right for me to just blast out with my feelings in the middle of the restaurant (after all, that's what blogs are for).  But IF has had a much different effect on me than it has on her.  She still believes in God, and his hand in reproduction.  She still believes that, in time, it will be her turn and that everything will work out for the best.

And I just -- don't.  While I am very hopeful for our upcoming cycle (I honestly think that we stand a great chance of success), I DON'T believe 100% that everything will work out eventually.  I don't see children as a foregone conclusion any more.  I have (quite clearly) begun to picture what my life would be like without children.  I want them desperately, and I think I will never be as happy without them as I would be with them.  But they are no longer a given for me, or for others like me.

And that got me wondering.  How can two women go through so many similar life experiences, and end up with such very different outlooks?  Am I a weaker person because my faith wasn't able to withstand the "tests" of infertility?  Is she a better person than me?  I tend to think I'm a pretty strong individual, as I've dealt with my fair share of trials the past ten years.  And yet I question whether its strength or just stubbornness that has kept me on this path.

I don't have any answers.  I don't know why she clings to her faith or why I have so decidedly discarded mine.  I don't know why this "great divide" exists, nor how to bridge it, nor if its even necessary to do so.  I don't know if I will always feel this way, or if, some day in the distant future, I will be able to somehow begin to make sense of all of this and find my way back to the person I was before.  

I do know this: twice I have found myself lying in bed, begging with every single fiber of my being for the life of my unborn child.  For whatever reason, those lives were taken from me.  And that experience changed me, fundamentally, and to the core.   I can't go back -- I will never, ever, ever be the same.  And I know hundreds of other women who feel the same.

Happy endings are not a guarantee, and I can't pretend that they are.  The fact of the matter is babies die, and it fucking sucks.  Does that make me bitter?  It sure as hell does.  Is that a choice that I make?  Maybe.    But it's also real -- and painful -- and worth acknowledging.

Two women.  Two very similar paths.  Two very different perspectives.

I wonder how each of our stories will end?

Still Here

And still infertile.  Nothing really new to report, hence the quiet lately. We are still waiting on our consult (next week!) and to make a plan to move forward.  Everything here is....quiet?  Good?  Dare I say it?  (Knock on wood!)  Other than the whole can't make a baby thing, I've really got nothing to complain about.  School is officially out for the kids, and I've got two more days of PD to endure before I am home free (until August anyway).  I've got a load of summer projects to work on, and am excited to start preparing for my room for next year.  I've got a great bunch of kids and am looking forward to much less stressful year.  I will miss a few of my gems from this year, though!  They are full of great little tidbits.  Consider this actual conversation that I had with a group of students on a field trip about a month ago:

Presenter: It is very important that a dairy cow has a calf every year so that she will continue to produce milk.

Student: Mrs. Jo, how does a cow have a calf every year?

Me: Well, that's a really great question for your parents.

Student: (rolling his eyes) I KNOW where human babies come from!

Me: Well, with cows, it's pretty much the same.

Student: But, what if there are no boy cows around?

Me: Well, nowadays, they have a lot more technology.  They can take what they need from a boy cow and give it to the girl cow and she will have a calf.

(The group of students who were listening ponder this for a few minutes.)

Different Student: Mrs. Jo, do you want to have kids?

Me: (clearly not thinking) Yes. (In my defense, it's my standard answer to this question!)

Student: Does that mean....I mean, you and Mr. Mo....uh....never mind!!!!!!

Me: (turning all shades of purple) Oh, look, Mrs. Other Teacher needs me! (make a speedy exit)

Yes, folks, that really happened.  I gave an impromptu lesson on animal inseminations AND basically admitted to my students that I have S-E-X with my husband.  Am I up for teacher of the year or what?!?