Follow me on the crazy, hopeful, discouraging, funny, and ultimately successful (one way or another) path to parenthood while facing infertility.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Infertility, You Suck

Infertility sucks for so, so many reasons. But yesterday it sucked because it robbed me of enjoying one of my closest friends' beautiful wedding to its fullest. The day was beautiful, the ceremony was touching, the bride was gorgeous and the groom was dashing. The ceremony was at 5:30, and I had to get there by 4:50ish as I was the violinist for the ceremony (did I mention the music was lovely?). I figured that with the ceremony at 5:30, the cocktail hour would go until about 6:30, dinner at 7, and maybe I could get a little dancing in by the time we had to leave. Which was early. Because I have to give myself shots between 9 and 10 in the evening, I wanted to be home somewhere between 9:30 and 10:00 for consistency's sake (9:40 seems to be a pretty consistent shoot-em-up time once I've got all the mixing and dosing and needle-swapping figured out).  So, we were to turn into sad little withered infertile pumpkins at 9:15.

The problem was that the day was so beautiful and the dinner was so lovely that pictures and dinner went until about 8:30. And then the sun was setting and it was gorgeous in the vineyards so the newlyweds stole off for some pictures (which I cannot wait to see since the backdrop was just stunning, not to mention the people in them). But it meant that while I was having a wonderful time at my table, talking to close friends and a friend I haven't seen in years (but it felt like a smooth continuation of conversations with a 10-year gap), I lost track of the time. Bryce leaned over and said "it's just about 9:00, we had better start the goodbyes" and I just felt stunned, dejected, and a more than a little angry. We were just getting started! I had to find the bride and groom to say goodbye, which meant stealing the matron of honor, Sara, away from conversation on the deck to go on a hunt. I couldn't help it, I cried when I told Sara that I had to find the bride, Sarah (yes, two Sara(h)s, sorry for the confusion) and say goodbye so that I could go shoot up. I was just so pissed--I was missing the cake cutting, the father-daughter dance, the mother-son dance, and ALL of the dancefloor action. Sarah is my dance party buddy, and there would be no rocking out to Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, FloRida, none of it. Sara consoled me and said I was doing what I had to do, but it just stunk. I found my friend and her husband (!) and said a tearful goodbye. She was having none of it--"Don't cry for me, Argentina!" she exclaimed--"you've got to do what you've got to do!". Despite the rally cry, I cried the whole way home.

It just sucks so much that infertility affects everything, absolutely everything. I can't have a social calendar of any kind because of these very situations--now it's a wedding that I have to leave woefully early due to shot administration, later I am missing a bachelorette day because it is at the end of my two-week wait and out of town, and that is just not a good combination. I don't like to go out to dinner because a) it's expensive and b) I have to time it around my shots and c) I don't feel very well during this time. I am stuck having to explain to people that I can't go to their baby shower/welcoming party/graduation party/general get-together/birthday party/etc. etc. etc. And I just have to hope that everyone understands that this just is what I have to do right now. I am not happy about it, either, but it is what it is. When you are extending this kind of money and time and physical stress to have a baby, something that the vast majority of the population does for free and with relative ease, you have to do whatever it takes to protect your investment. Because thanks to the high-tech route we have to take at this point, we can try a grand total of twice per year between taking time off and accumulating the funds and medication. We do not have unlimited tries ahead of us. The road will end at some juncture, we just hope it's a nice cul-de-sac with tricycles and strollers littering the driveway. So I feel very badly about missing these important events in part or entirety, but I can't be sorry about it. I'm not. As one of my wise support group people has said, this time is about what we need to do for our family first. I may hate disappointing my friends and feeling like I am missing out on all the fun, but it's because I am trying to have the opportunity to be the excellent mother I know I will be. I am protecting that nugget from the time it is a maturing egg (one of many swelling up my ovaries) so that hopefully this will be the time our baby comes into our lives. My support group friend said, "I know you will be a rock star mom, because you have what it takes already--moms have to make sacrifices for the good of their children, and you are already doing that because it's what you need to do for your family right now." It makes me feel better, but I still feel the bitter sting of disappointment when I'm driving home while it's barely dark without any boogie-blisters on my feet.

Beautiful flowers of love and friendship.
But, for this event last night with my friend, she and her matron of honor were so amazingly understanding and supportive that they even dropped off my table centerpiece on my doorstep last night--it greeted my husband this morning when he went to walk the dog. Before I left the bride's mom came and talked to Sara and me and said that she wanted each of us to have one, and she was sure we'd be there until the end so be sure to grab one (stab stab stab in the heart on that one, nope, sorry, I'm leaving now. Yup, before the cake...sorry, have to try to make a baby through kitchen countertop chemistry experiments.). Sara said that she would drop one off at my house, no worries. People say nice things all the time, but Sara actually did it. Those flowers made me cry again this morning--in part tears of grief for the fun times I missed, but mostly tears of gratitude for such an amazing act of kindness and empathy. The flowers are beautiful but the gesture behind them is what truly shines for me.

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