How to Announce Your Pregnancy to an Infertile Friend or Family Member

• In person. Do not leave it to Facebook or a text or an email. Even though it may be hard for you to observe my pain (or my attempts to suppress my pain for you), I will appreciate that you cared enough to seek me out and tell me. 
• One-on-one. If you don't do this, you might see me running from the room in tears after you make the announcement to the entire group. Please don't humiliate me any more than I already am. 
• With a window. Tell me at the end of our time together so that I can hold it together for a few minutes, say goodbye, and then find a quiet place to cry. 
• Early. Don't wait until everyone else knows and I feel like I'm the last one to find out because you didn't have the guts to tell me. Don't let me find out through the grapevine or by overhearing your conversation with someone else. I'm already constantly suspicious of the bracelets you're wearing, any minor pain or illness you mention, prenatal vitamins on the counter, and comments from your kids. Infertiles have the best pregnancy radars. 
• Unapologetically. Don't be sorry that you're pregnant. I'm not sorry you are! I'm happy for you! I'm just sad that I still am not. 
• Succinctly. Don't tell me the story about when you decided to start trying, how easy/hard it was, your feelings when you found out you were expecting, etc. 
• Compassionately. If you're reading this, you care about me. Thank you. Share your love with me when you tell me, because I'm going to need it. 

Trauma

As I was getting ready to go to my little sister's baby shower this week, I started crying. Then I started sobbing - hard. The girls were there and they were hanging on me, trying to comfort me. Dave tried to get them to leave me alone, but he couldn't pry them away from me. As I sat there, sobbing, with my two sweet little girls hanging on me, I wondered why I was crying. I had told God long ago that if He let me keep these girls, I wouldn't care at all about getting pregnant. I have two absolutely wonderful girls and I am satisfied. As I have worked with B through her trauma I have been more able to recognize it in myself. Baby showers used to be awful for me. Unfortunately, baby showers are still awful for me because all of the pain I experienced throughout my infertility comes rushing back to me. I hadn't realized that infertility can be traumatizing like that.  

An Announcement

I am not seeing a doctor again until next year (besides my dad, and soon my brother, but that's beside the point).
I now only take 3 pills daily instead of 7.
Dave can retire from his job as a part-time nurse, giving me injections.
I'm not looking online every month, re-reading the same articles about early pregnancy symptoms.
I'm done charting!

Yes, Dave and I are finally saying goodbye to fertility treatments. We threw a party to celebrate.

I invited friends who are also experiencing infertility and we wrote our frustrations with infertility on a doctor's coat. 

Then we burned it. 

My fantastic friends who came to my party and who have supported me throughout this awful journey. 

What's next, you ask?

Foster parenting!

Better than a Birthday

As I reflected on the many kindnesses extended to me on Mother's Day this year, I thought, "This is better than a birthday!" Let me explain.
Infertiles dread Mother's Day more than anything except their period. Mother's Day is usually a lonely, painful day.
Birthdays are days when people feel obligated to remember you and give you gifts.
Mother's Day is not typically a happy day for me or a day when I receive gifts. This year, so many people sent me notes telling me that they were thinking of me or praying for me. They wrote encouraging words and expressed their love and support. A five-year-old boy in the class I teach at church drew me a card with reindeer on it and gave me a bag of candy. My friend expressed her love and admiration for me in front of everyone at church. I received many hugs. My mother, mother-in-law and father-in-law gave me gifts. None of these people were obligated to think of me or to give me gifts today. I felt much more loved today than I think I ever have on a birthday! It meant so much more to me than the kindnesses I receive on my birthday, too, because people were thinking of me in my time of pain. I feel so very blessed to have such loving, wonderful people in my life. If it weren't for YOU, I wouldn't survive Mother's Day, or any other day of the year, as an infertile. Thank you!

It's ba-ack...

Seeing as I never really had symptoms of endometriosis before my surgery, I have been very (unpleasantly) surprised to be experiencing them after my surgery. A couple of months ago I was in so much pain I had to lie down on the floor at work for 30 minutes or so. I was nauseated, hyperventilating, and wondering if I needed to go to the emergency room. Thankfully, the pain went away quickly enough. That has only happened to me once before, 11 years ago. I did go to the emergency room that time. For the past two days, I have been experiencing major pain in my lower back and I had cramping that actually woke me up at 5:00 in the morning the other day - experiences I've never had before. So, I think it's safe to say that the endometriosis is back, a mere 8 months after my surgery that was supposed to be "good" for at least a couple of years. This week I'll see a new doctor (my 6th on this infertility journey) and I hope to get some answers.

2 days late

For two days I thought I was pregnant. My mind and my body even conspired against me to convince me I was pregnant. I had so many of the early pregnancy symptoms!
Two days is enough time to calculate your due due, plan how and when you will tell your family, research potential OB/GYN's, and pretty much plan your life around the baby that's coming. Yesterday I had another silent-sobbing-in-the-bathroom-stall experience. I am still deeply mourning.  This has provided some comfort.

Left Out

Being infertile doesn't just mean missing out on the experience of being a parent. It's also missing out on relationships with parents in your life. I don't go on outings to the zoo or have play dates with friends or family. I don't have anything to say in a conversation about pregnancy, childbirth, vaccinations, bullies, parenting methods, or diapers. I don't have kids' sporting events or performances to invite family to. I just can't relate to or connect with parents. I feel uninteresting because I don't have parenting experiences to talk about. I feel left out.