Having a child is usually a happy time in a woman’s life. Unfortunately, as we wait longer to have children, infertility and trouble conceiving can become a part of the family making process. Unbearable addresses these difficulties.
This week, I sat in my doctor’s office to get the results of some recent tests. I went into the office expecting to hear about the next expensive procedure we needed to do. I was prepared for her to tell me that I needed to go to the fertility specialist, instead of trying to trick my insurance by treating my infertility issues through my ob-gyn. I was expecting the same thing I’ve always found while struggling with infertility: a little bad news and a plan of attack.
Instead, my doctor grabbed my hand and slowly began to shake her head. The words started tumbling from her mouth. They were kind and gentle. It included lots of “Sorry” and offers of help if I wanted to look into adoption. I tried to thank her as I struggled to hold back my sobs. Tears were streaming from my eyes, but I really didn’t want to fall apart until I made it into my car.
This week, I found out that I will never get pregnant again. After two and a half years of trying and hoping, my struggle is over. Yes, there are revolutionary procedures being performed by just a few doctors in the country. I could travel to a bigger city and pay the equivalent of my mortgage to repair my broken reproductive system. But that isn’t going to happen.
Most often, we hear about the infertility stories that have a happy ending. People share all the hard work and stress that went in to getting pregnant after they have a beautiful baby to show for it. The sad fact of the matter is that not every infertility story has a happy ending. Some people hang in limbo, trying over and over again with no success, for all of their childbearing years. And some doors snap shut at the age of 27, before other women have even considered having children. Turns out, I’m one of the unhappily ever after cases.
To be honest, I feel like I am in mourning for those possible children that I desperately wanted to have. I feel like I have lost a loved one. Just because I didn’t know them yet doesn’t change that. Like any person struggling with grief, I think it will take time for me to accept the situation and attempt to move on.
Let’s be real. There’s a lot of crying going on in my home right now. I’m crying over the prenatal vitamin that I no longer need to take every morning. I’m crying over this stupid extra stocking that I’m never going to need, but probably never going to throw away. I’m crying every time a loved one stops over and tells me that there are other ways to have children and that I should really consider adoption.