Marked

I used to have the feeling that there was sign plastered across my head that said, "Infertile." Particularly for those people who knew how long we'd been ttc, it seemed to be there as something people gingerly took note and then were careful to steer around, being careful when bringing up those delicate topics of babies, treatment, and the future, and always thinking that what I really needed to do was relax for it to happen. But really, I didn't have a sign and most people didn't even have any idea. Now I suppose I could "pass" being pregnant, but I seem to have an urge to put the sign up there myself, just to remind people that this is no ordinary pregnancy. "It took me a long time to get pregnant," I'm always careful to tell people. "Maybe it looks like we decided to change everything all at once, moving, starting a family, new jobs, but really, we wanted to have kids years ago."

I'm not sure why I feel the urge to do this. I think it's because it just feels like part of my identity. I suspect also that I'm trying to show people I deserve to get pregnant, even while I know there's no such thing as "deserving" when it comes to pregnancy. This is no oops-forgot-the-birth-control moment, or let's-just-see-what happens attempt, this is a hard-fought-multiple-hospitalizations-more-needles-than-you'll-ever-know pregnancy. Like I'm really special or something, although I know the truth is once the kid is there, people perceive you as no different than the oopsers, and maybe that's really how it should be, but I just can't quite put it out of my mind.

It could be a more altruistic reason: I like to let people know about the battle in case they are suffering from jealousy or infertility themselves, that I'm not run of the mill. My pregnancy came up with a coworker at lunch, and I mentioned it took years of trying, and discovered she had her own story of years of trying. We exchanged some cycle and horror stories, but in the end, I'm still the own whose pregnant and she's not. Did it really make her feel better to know that she was going out to lunch with a pregnant woman who tried for over three years? I don't really know, so maybe it still comes down to me trying to point out that I deserve it.

Of course, I'm sure I'm experiencing this pregnancy differently than had I not gone through infertility. I sometimes find it hard to discuss it with friends and family, because it just feels wrong to be basking in my own success after having such a hard time with others' pregnancies. It also still feels unreal, and even while I'm doing my best to prepare for MC's arrival, there's still a large part of me that doesn't think it's going to happen. Despite having an easy time of it other than a couple of light bleeding episodes early on, dead baby thoughts are never far from my mind. I've dealt with it basically by not letting myself think much about them, since I know they're irrational. As time has gone on, I've felt more confidence in the pregnancy, but I still feel like it could be someone else's life.

Perhaps another reason that I feel like sharing my infertility history is because I want people to know where I'm coming from. I've been surprised myself by the profound sense of loss I continue to feel over the failed cycles. Just thinking about my lost embryos can bring tears to my eyes. I don't want to dwell in the past, but it's there. I think also I was so used to having a feeling of desperation over the treatment process, which really settled in during the last year, that I'm not really sure what to do without that feeling. I hesitate to use the word "desperation" because it conjures up tabloid-headlines like, "Desperate Moms-to-be Willing to Sell Soul to Devil For Children," and that's not quite what I mean. I felt more like I was doing all I could and it wasn't working, and I was desperate for control and not finding any. Last fall was a horrible time. And the fall before that was D's moment of desperation, I think he came to terms with the possibility of treatments not working before I did. It's a good thing we both managed not to fall apart right at the same time, because I don't know how we would have made it. I'm not feeling desperate anymore, and even before my successful cycle, I think I was starting to understand that things might or might not work out, and life would go on, regardless. But it still leaves this void in my feelings that I don't know what to do with. I got used to feeling that way, now I can't figure out what to fill it with. Happiness is there sometimes, but it doesn't always feel quite right. It's hard to figure out how to honor my past and look forward to the future.