I am the face of infertility.
And perhaps, so are you. The truth is, 1 in 4 women suffer from infertility. Whether it is the inability to conceive, or the tragedy of recurrent pregnancy loss. It is infertility. I am infertility.
Now before I continue my story, if for any reason this post or my vulnerability makes you uncomfortable, I encourage you to have a great day and carry on. I’ll still love you.
Today was the first day of a new journey. One I never, ever, imagined I would be on. I mean, how hard is it to get pregnant? How hard is it to stay pregnant? People do it all the time. Rabbits do it constantly. Why would it be any different for me?
As I sat in the waiting room for my appointment, I stared at the words written above the long hallway in front of me, where the exam rooms are. The words read “Reproductive Endocrinology and Infertility”. I read the words over and over, trying to imagine how the hell I got here. How on earth was I the one to draw the short straw in the group of 4? As they called my name to go on back, I felt my heart sink as I entered the long hallway, with the words “infertility” passing above me. I had officially entered this new journey.
I sat in the exam room feeling overwhelmingly nervous. I had the benefit of being a young, healthy woman. I ate well, I exercised (some weeks more than others), and I had no past medical history besides my miscarriages. Is there something wrong with me that I don’t know about? What will they find?
The only way to truly describe the feeling I felt in that exam room is similar to what I feel when I am standing in the security line and TSA is staring me down with their furrowed brows and stern “move alongs”. “ I am 100% sure there is nothing that can be remotely viewed as unsafe or as a threat in my bag... right?” Even though I packed my bag and every item in it myself, what happens if they find something and suddenly I am in a line-up being identified for some heinous crime that makes Ted Bundy look like a saint...?
I checked my bag. I checked my body. But could there be something I don’t know?
Despite my anxieties, when the doctor came in the room, I was put at ease by her compassion and patience with all my emotions and questions. She took what felt like a road to nowhere and she dug a path for me herself, one with a map on exactly where to go to hopefully reach my destination of motherhood. Most importantly, she reminded me that it was not my fault...
Although we don’t have clear answers yet, we have a plan. And that, that puts me at peace with this journey that is starting today.
I share my story because despite my supportive family and friends, I felt alone. Why can everyone have healthy, glowing pregnancies with chubby healthy babies but me? And why is it so easy for them? I have wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember. I have a well taken care of Bitty-Baby doll to prove it. Why can’t I be one?
When you go through this, there is nothing more comforting than speaking to someone who knows your pain and sorrows all too well. If I can help one other woman feel like she is not alone, then my job here is done. I want to end the stigma behind infertility and pregnancy loss, and contribute to the change of making this all too common taboo subject known and accepted. It doesn’t matter how many losses you have had. It doesn’t matter how far along you were. Your hurt matters, and your grief is valid. You ARE a mother.
I am infertility, and perhaps you are too. I hope telling my story can touch you the way some women’s stories have touched me. Maybe it will make you chuckle for the first time in awhile, or maybe it will bring up a tear or two. Either way, know that we are in this together.
Written in December 2020 when Rebecca first sought fertility support.
Photo by Felicia Buitenwerf (@iamfelicia) courtesy of Unsplash