Ever since my husband
and I ended our seven year battle with fertility treatments and decided not to
pursue adoption, I have been trying to figure out what to do with my life. I am
incredibly grateful that we were able to have a baby with the help of
intrauterine insemination, and that I have been able to stay home with her for
the past five years. But my baby is no
longer a baby anymore! My daughter is headed to Kindergarten in the fall and I
am headed back to work. I have been trying not to think about all the what-ifs
and could-have-beens with respect to our repeated attempts to have a second
biological child. What if I didn't have endometriosis? What if my pregnancies
hadn’t miscarried? What if one, just
one, of our embryos didn't have a genetic mutation? What if the embryo adoption
had worked out? Then I would have a baby
right now. But I am trying to steer far
away from the past and instead focus on the present. What now?
There is
a perceived notion that when you struggle with infertility and then have a baby,
you are done being infertile. Though that
may be true for some people, it was not true for me and my husband. Many of our friends and family members wanted
us to ride off into the sunset and never look back. They often said they just wanted us to be
happy. But my husband and I wanted more
children. I remember, after my third
consecutive miscarriage, sharing the news with a close family member, who
responded; “Don’t be sad. Look at your beautiful daughter and just be grateful that
you have her.” I can only imagine her
own grief over what my husband and I were going through led to her dismissive
remark. Maybe she told me what helped
her make sense of our sad news. I wasn’t
crying on the phone to her. I wasn’t
angry. Not in that conversation, and not ever in my journey, have I uttered
that what was happening to me was not fair.
I have worked in homes for the dying in Calcutta and have worked with
families in Mexico who had no clean water to drink. Those situations are not fair. What is also
not fair is that so many people I love and have grown to cherish in the
infertility community do not have their one miracle to hold and love.
But for a
person to tell me to be grateful for the gift of my daughter is like telling my
heart to beat. Of course I am grateful
for my daughter! My gratitude is
heightened by knowing how much the odds were against her coming into this
world. Infertility is like wearing a
permanent pair of sunglasses. It colors
your entire world, including the way you parent. The love and the depth of
gratitude I feel for my child is a richer, more vibrant shade, fashioned by the
years of desiring her presence in our lives and by the long journey that got
her to us. My infertility also causes my
gratitude for my daughter to be mixed with a grief over my miscarriages and
unviable embryos. Infertility teaches us
all that anything can, and most often will, go wrong, that loss is a part of
life, and that life doesn’t work out as we hope or plan. These darker hues are
ever-present and constantly haunt the thoughts that occupy my mind. My husband
tells me that infertility is something that will be with us always. I think he is right.
So the
question still remains, “What now?” Where do I go from here? These last few months I have been taking a
look at the things in my life that define me. I am a grateful mother to my daughter. I am a wife, married 11 years. I am a social worker who has helped people through
therapy and advocacy. And I have been a
campus minister at the high school and college level. I am an infertility survivor and
endometriosis patient who is constantly trying to make more sense of this
awful, chronic disease.
Lately I have been
thinking about expanding my role as an advocate in the infertility world and
starting groups for women going through infertility treatments. I have recently started a retreat program for
women struggling with infertility. All
my efforts make some of my family members a little nervous. They view it as my being stuck or wallowing in
my infertility struggles. Maybe they are
afraid I am missing my chance at that beautiful ride into the sunset? Paulo Coehlo, one of my favorite authors,
writes “Don’t allow your wounds to transform you into something you are not.” I believe in my heart that my desire to
continue to be a part of the infertility community is not dwelling in my past
or transforming me in a negative way. My
hope is that my wounds will help me transform the lives of others struggling
with infertility, which in turn will help me heal. I have always been an advocate. I have always looked to help others who are
struggling. Now that I am no longer
undergoing fertility treatments, I feel that I can be a light for others and
help them navigate their own path through infertility.
So I am
joining the movement staying a part of the movement. I hope to use my skills and experience to
make a difference in the lives of other women who are struggling with what I
have struggled with. I am excited for
the opportunity to go to Washington D.C. in May, as part of an effort organized
by RESOLVE, the National Infertility Association, to speak with elected
officials on many infertility issues. I am
especially looking forward to meeting many of the strong, amazing women in the
infertility community that I have come in contact with over the years, many of
whom are still fighting hard for their miracle.
I will
never forget the pain and hopelessness that I felt before I had my daughter and
the feelings of loss that I still feel after the realization that after five
additional years of unsuccessful fertility treatments, I will never have
another biological child. I will never
take my daughter's life for granted. I
will never take lightly the pain of others, especially those who are struggling
to have their first child. I will never
stop educating others about infertility. I will never stop fighting for answers. I have learned through my journey with
infertility that I will never be the same, but hopefully, in my new reality, I
can bring hope and comfort to others.
To find our more about RESOLVE and Advocacy Day check out:
