My School Report on Infertility

I'm just enjoying a long weekend break from school...a four-day weekend. Yay! Finally some time to blog! =)
Well, first I wanted to share some things from blog land. I'm always out lurking and reading other's blogs. Finding strength, empathy, and that feeling of you're-not-alone-in-all-of-this in the words of others.
If you haven't been there yet I would strongly recommend checking out:
http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/ .
Melissa is the wonder woman of that blog and really does some amazing things, including an extensive blog roll with hundreds of blogs addressing all of the issues surrounding infertility, pregnancy, pregnancy loss, etc. Her personality shines through and, though I haven't really met her or communicated with her, I feel like she truly cares. She talks sometimes about the land of If (the land of Infertility), and I really like the idea of looking at it as a foreign land. It definitely comes with its own culture, language, etc.
Through this amazingly organized and very informative blog I found this blog:
http://lifefromhere.wordpress.com/2008/10/13/rough-patch/
The woman describes so eloquently how even the most simple things, the most treasured traditions, can turn to sorrowful reflections. She describes going with her husband to a local pumpkin patch. Here are some of her words but I would really encourage you to go check out her blog (she describes things so masterfully):

We walked through the patch, watching children play and giggle and babies with new legs romp through the field. We watched dads lift their kids up and into wheelbarrows for rides. We watched moms take pictures of their gorgeous families. We watched and we wondered. Would that ever be us?

At times like this, it’s really hard to imagine that we will ever have a child. One moment I think, of course we will, some day. It could be a year or more, and that thought is really hard. But then I realize it could be longer. It could be never. There is no guarantee we will ever get “picked.” We might not. We could end up like one of those bruised or mis-shapen pumpkins that no one chooses, the ones that get plowed under at the end of the season. There is just no way to know.

...

I think I longed for all of our children in that moment — the son who was taken from us, the children we will never have, and also that mythical child who may one day find his/her way to us through adoption. Each one of those aches its own unique pull.

As I walked back through that patch, I realized that something I normally enjoy had been tainted by our sorrow, swallowed by the gaping hole in our lives. Looking at all those happy families, all I could think was that should be us, too. Why isn’t that us? Will that ever be us? That may never be us. It was all just too much.

And lastly (for today anyway) I was reading this article about infertility recently, The psychological component of infertility by Patricia Mahlstedt, and found some things that were very interesting. Mahlstedt wrote about the different feelings and thoughts that people face with infertility-depression, loss, stress, anger, and guilt. What stood out to me is this:
"Who can mourn the loss of someone who has never been born or possibly conceived? The fact that there is nothing tangible to represent the loss actually intensifies the pain and makes the loss more difficult to understand."
Mahlstedt also writes that infertile couples have difficulty thoroughly and properly grieving because "they cannot really grieve the loss of parenthood, because they are still hoping it will happen; maybe next month they will achieve a pregnancy...Grieving during the infertility process is like the process of grieving over the death of a soldier who is missing in action as opposed to grieving over one who was killed. In both processes, there is nothing definite, and hoping enables peope to avoid the pain."
Sorry if this post is sounding like a school report today. I've just been finding a lot of interesting stuff on infertility and want to keep it handy for myself and for anyone who might be reading and could use the info. I feel like Mahlstedt put into words what I've felt before. I still have all of the pictures of the embryos that didn't stick, and how do you describe to someone the pain and mourning that takes place over 5-celled embryos or 3-celled embryos? Or the mourning and sorrow that comes from something that you can't see? I liked the comparison of grieving over a soldier who is considered dead because he is missing in action. It's like grief and hope are at a constant battle. There have been times when I've just wished I could have a flat out answer-No, you will never get pregnant or yes, it will happen someday. If it's no-I grieve, I cry, I move on. If it's yes-I keep trying no matter the time and no matter the obstacles. Sometimes the uncertainty is the hardest part. I have a hard time with maybe!