Faces of Infertility and Loss - Christa's Story and Letter

Christa, I want to thank you for taking the time to share this letter. I think many will resonate with what you have to say. I've followed your story and I am so happy that your little girl is here.

-----------------
Our story: 

 My husband and I started TTC in Spring of 2011. After a hard year of no success month after month, we started seeing doctors to try to diagnose the problem. We were diagnosed with combination infertility; my husband had some male factor issues and I had delayed ovulation. We had tried Clomid for my husband with no improvement, so our doctor suggested IVF as our best route, but told us that we could try Clomid for me with an HCG trigger first if we wanted. Reluctant to pursue IVF for religious reasons, we felt that Clomid was our last chance. We were very blessed to get pregnant in January 2013 with our little miracle baby. Our daughter was born in October 2013. 

Follow our story : http://learningtotrustjourney.blogspot.com/

Dear Well-Meaning Friends,

Some of you were very supportive when you found out about our struggle with infertility. All of you were thrilled with us when we found out we were expecting our little miracle. Thank you, thank you all for your support and kind words, for your prayers, and for sharing in our joy as we welcomed our little daughter into the world.

It’s ironic that sometimes the things that are said intending to give comfort can actually give so much pain. I know how hard it is when you’re talking to someone going through a struggle that you haven’t experienced yourself. How do you know what to say? I am sure that I have made many mistakes myself. Some things that friends said to me sound so encouraging on the surface, but can actually hurt a lot deep down. Here are two in particular:

“You’re young! You have so much time!”

As someone trying to conceive in her early 20’s, this may appear to be a categorically true statement. But just because something is true, doesn’t mean you should say it. Here’s the thing – I know how old I am. I know how much time I have. My fear as a 20-something-year-old dealing with infertility is not necessarily that I’m going to die childless, but rather that I’m going to have to wait years for what I desire now. Or that I’m never going to have the big family that I hoped for. Or that all my friends will have their babies and years will come and go and I will have to look on and try to be happy for them. Because I want to be happy for then, but it’s so hard when battling infertility. I always knew that I could adopt, and I never thought I was “running out of time.” Telling someone that they have time just minimizes their current feelings. It may be true, but that doesn’t make the present any easier. Just because tomorrow will come doesn’t mean today doesn’t hurt.

This statement can also be misleading. Fertility decreases with age, so if I struggle to get pregnant in my 20’s, it should not be assumed that it’s going to be easier in my 30’s or 40’s. It can be terrifying to realize at the age of 22 that you may not be able to make a baby with your spouse! I always knew I had time, but I still grieved for what I lost. I lost the joy of spontaneously seeing a positive pregnancy test and getting to surprise my husband with it out of the blue. I spent years working so hard for something that is supposed to come effortlessly at our age. I live with the knowledge that if things had gone according to “my plan” we might have two kids by now. And I lost the carefree ease of knowing that “we can always have another baby.” Because even though we were successful, for me it isn’t completely over.

After giving birth to my daughter, I sometimes feel like I’m not allowed to feel sad about infertility anymore. I get the impression that achieving pregnancy and having a baby is considered to be a “cure” for infertility. But it isn’t. I’m still technically infertile. And that still saddens me. Another thing that people have said, asked, or suggested since my little girl was born:

“Maybe with the next one it will just happen.”

Or something along those lines. I have to admit, I think this and hope it sometimes too, in my own secret thoughts. I still find myself fantasizing about that surprise positive pregnancy test that no one was expecting. I hope and pray that I get to experience that. And I hear that some people do. But medically speaking, it is very unlikely. And one thing that infertility has taken from me is that carefree certainty about the future. I can’t just “plan” to have another baby. It’s going to in all likelihood involve so much work, effort, and emotional strain. And having been through it all before might make it better, but I can also see it making it worse. I try to guard my heart by refusing to think in statements like this one.

If you know about my infertility struggle, please don’t minimize that by asking me a question as seemingly innocent as, “So when will you have your next one?” Because that question just brings to mind all my fears and insecurities that I might not be able to have “my next one,” or it might remind me that I have very little say over it. I always imagined a 2 year or less age gap between my children, and now I feel like I have no control over that. Yes, I could try fertility treatments again, but I don’t know if I will still be breastfeeding and be unable to do that. I don’t know what my cycle will do or when it will regulate. I have no control. It might not happen. That’s scary. That’s not fair. It’s not fair to me and my husband, and it’s not fair to my little girl that I don’t know if or when she might have a sibling. It’s sad. So please, don’t minimize my journey by implying that I should “be over it.”

If you have said either of these things to me, know that I don’t hold it against you. I realize you want to encourage me and you want me to be happy. And if we are very close friends, I probably don’t even mind that you said them, because they probably lead to a good talk. But in the spirit of honesty, I just want to let you know some of the things that run through my head when people say things like this.

I am a very blessed person. I did not have to try for as long as some people who experience infertility did. I haven’t suffered the devastating loss of miscarriage. My little girl was born healthy after a very easy pregnancy. And I do have time to have more kids. I know that I am blessed. But I still grieve over infertility. I still feel sad when I think about the two years that we tried month after month. I wish I hadn’t cried for an hour after getting a call that my friend was expecting when all I wanted was to feel joy for them. I wish when I heard a pregnancy announcement today that I didn’t feel that twinge of jealousy because it happened easily or quickly. I wish I could just have carefree, joyful happiness for my friends and pure optimism about the future. But I don’t feel that way. It’s still hard. It’s still a part of who I am. Today I am happy. Today I hold my 5-month old little girl, look into her eyes, and feel joy. But that doesn’t erase the past, or make me confident about the future. Infertility doesn’t go away.

Sincerely,

Christa

Faces of Infertility and Loss - Schelby's Story and Letter

Schelby, where do I start with her? She's a long time TTC'er like I was. I feel myself relating to her the most and really really aching for her to get this rainbow baby she really deserves! She's so knowledgeable about temperature charting, and even more importantly she's a warrior and a gracious supporter to those in the trenches. She reminds me so much of myself when we were struggling, her story closely that to my own. You know i'm thinking of you always Schelby and I adore the fight and determination you have day in and out! Thank you for sharing your story and letter with us today.

---------------

Our story is at http://themfamilylife.blogspot.ca/

we said "I do" in August 2010 and made the decision to start TTC a month later. within our first year, I gradually introduced myself to the world of charting, starting with taking my BBT and working up to OPKs and checking CM. it took us until January 2012 to finally see a BFP and then were devastated when I had a missed MC less than a month later at 7 weeks where no sac had formed. we began TTC once again. over the next year, our efforts varied as we were also in the process of building a massive addition to our house. in June 2013 I got another BFP. we made it to 7 weeks with no drama, even go to see a baby and a heartbeat on an ultrasound. our world once again came crashing down when at nearly 11 weeks, I started bleeding heavily. our fears were confirmed and our baby stopped developing at 7 weeks. we're now about 6 months into TTC since our second MC and have had preliminary infertility testing done that didn't show any signs of anything being wrong.

dear mom,

thank you for being there and supporting us through this time in our lives. though there are multiple things i want you to be aware of:

you don't understand our situation. you barely had to try to have kids so there's no way you could possibly understand how it feels to try for so long without success. the only ones who can are those who've been through the infertility process or have lost a child (whether a child in the womb or in arms). as helpful as you think you're being, its not the help i want or need. you're not the one i'm going to turn to when things go wrong unless my husband can't be there. i just need you to be there if i come to you.

you're made several comments that have cut deep and i'm not sure i can forget them. one was just a couple months after our first miscarriage. i went to visit you after your hysterectomy and you joked that maybe you should've waited a bit longer to get your uterus removed in case we needed it if i can't carry myself. i'm not sure how you thought that was helpful but because i was in a depression over losing our first chance at expanding our family, the comment was incredibly hurtful and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. i also don't appreciate you projecting your hurt over our losses on me. i understand its a loss for you as well, but don't talk to me about it because it will fall on deaf ears. i hurt enough on my own without feeling like i've let you down, so please talk to anyone else but me about it. i can't deal with it.

Faces of Infertility and Loss - Participant Notification

For all those wonderful women who have shared their letters with us I'd like to give you something special as a token of my appreciation. This is For sharing such deep and personal feelings regarding your journey and having the courage to go live with those feelings towards certain people in your life. It takes guts and I think this is the stuff people need to hear/ others struggling will nod in agreement with.

beautifulbudsshop.etsy.com

For those who participate in our letter series I'm offering a free charm bracelet. When you participate (just submitting your letter to me via email) Please include if you haven't already your choice in 3 of the following chamrs: Love, faith, hope, believe, and miracle. I also have other color choice that will be coming to me in a few weeks. Those I've pictured below with the color name next to them. Please note only one per participant.

So after that confusing paragraph let me simplify it lol:

What I need from you:

1. Your letter(s) to be posted on our blog
2. Your color of bead choice (I likely have the color your looking for so just ask :) )
3. Wrist size
4. And 3 charm choices.
5. If you have losses I'm more than happy to include their birthstone overlapping the charm word of your choice. Please just let me know.

I will be selling these at my etsy shop for those who would like to buy one for someone they know please go here. More design options to come. 10% of the proceeds go to the Resolve organization. If you are interested in hosting a give away of the charm bracelet please email me at amandanicole1828@gmail.com.

These are hand made by me and again it's just a little token of my gratitude for what you've shared.  

Faces of Infertility and Loss - Ryanne's Story and Letters

Ryanne is another online friend of mine who has more grace than two of me put together. She's a person who wears her heart on her sleeve and seems to always try to put herself in others shoes. She's one of those women who you just instantly connect with. Today I share her story and letters. Thank you Ryanne for sharing with us today! 

-----------------------------

Our Story: 

Hi! My name is Ryanne and my husband and I have been married since 2008. We started our TTC journey in 2011, and had a miscarriage in 2013. We are now starting out fertility treatment with a doctor who practices NaPro Technology. I blog over at www.girlryanne.blogspot.com, documenting our journey and all the challenges that go along with it. I'm writing to two people today, but I promise to keep them short!

Dear K, 

I just wanted to say thank you for being there over these last two years. You've listened to me rant and rave about temperatures and sex, cervical fluid and pee sticks without complaint. You've let me vent my frustrations, and not been afraid to tell me exactly what you think. I have needed that more than you probably realize because frankly, this journey sucks sometimes! 

I also want to tell you that I am crazy excited about being an aunt again! I'm so glad that you aren't going through the same stuff I am, and I can't wait to meet your little one. I'll be honest, at first I wasn't sure how I was going to get through the next 8 months. Let's face it--to be struggling with infertility while your best friend is having a baby is really hard. There are some things that I know will be really, really hard for me. But I promise to be there. I promise to stick it out and be supportive. Not only because you would do the same for me, but also because I want to. 

I love you so much! 

Dear M, 

I know that our relationship has been rocky the last few years. It probably has something to do with us both being firstborn women or something like that. But I'd love for it to be better. So I tried opening up to you about some of my frustrations with TTC. And honestly...I kind of regret it. 

I regret it because you let me down. Instead of being supportive you tried to be controlling...and then you told me that you were "done" talking about it when I didn't agree with you.

I expressed my frustration and disappointment, and you told me to get a second opinion when I've only given this doctor a couple of months and a single round of treatment. This stuff doesn't work overnight, and I told you that. I didn't say I wasn't open to it, I just said not now.

You told me that I need to not think about it so much, to stop wasting my brain, to go back to work. 

You told me that I'm consumed.

Well here's the thing. Getting a different job, trying to distract myself...none of that means anything when your empty due date rolls around, or the one year anniversary of your loss, or another year of TTC. None of that helps on Mother's Day, or Father's Day. None of that makes a difference as you watch your niece and your friends' kids grow up...the kids that you hoped would be best friends with yours. You act like it's a trivial thing that I need to pretend doesn't bother me. You don't understand. You'll never understand. You gave birth to seven live children and never even had to try. You never had a miscarriage. You will never understand how this feels, what it's like to live with something like infertility. 

And do you know what? I left my job because I hated it. I love being home. I'm able to accomplish all kinds of stuff during the week so that I have free weekends. I'm using my brain working on cultivating our garden, learning to preserve the produce, because learning to be self sufficient is important to us. I'm even able to work on the side doing that "really cool job" now and then--it's lined up as we speak. Just because I don't have a career doesn't mean that I'm wasting my brain and being unproductive. Just so you know.

So maybe I am a little bit "consumed". But that's because in order to even have the chance of getting help, I have to keep track of every cycle day every single month. Temperatures, ovulation tests, supplements, meds, shots, timing sex for the best possible chance. All to fail again and again and again. I think you would be consumed too. 

So you want to be "done" talking about it? I can't believe that you are so narrow minded and controlling that you would tell me that. It's this kind of ignorance that keeps people from talking about their struggles--because people like you shut us down and make us feel less than whole. All this? It doesn't even begin to cover how hurt I am. I feel so betrayed by you--one of the people I should be able to count on most. 

Well, I learned my lesson. I can't count on you. I can't talk to you. It hurts me so much to even write that out, but it's true. 

Faces of Infertility and Loss - Rachele's Story and Letter

I'm so excited an honored to be sharing these letters with you. The first letter starts today! Today's letter is from Rachele who has become a very close friend of mine online. She was a guiding light through my struggles and just an overall amazing friend ans supporter. I'm honored to share her letter today. Please don't be shy and leave some encouraging words for the beautiful Rachele.

------------------

Our Story:

My husband and I have been trying to conceive since August of 2010.  In January of 2012, after 18 months of trying to conceive, I was diagnosed with “Unexplained infertility”.  In August of 2012, we found out we have a perfect storm of infertility when my husband was diagnosed with infertility as well.  In February of 2014 I was diagnosed with PCOS, and we are currently seeing a new Reproductive Endocrinologist in hopes to move forward on our journey to conceiving.   http://infertilitylifelove.blogspot.com/

Dear Friend-

Thank you for being you.  Thank you for being there for me, even when you don’t know my pain first hand.  It’s impossible to know the pain of infertility when you haven’t experienced it—but you try.  You try to understand how hard it is for me.  You’re sympathetic. You have found the balance between asking too many questions yet still offering support and letting me vent.


So many people struggle with the etiquette surrounding infertility, but if you don’t know—you ask.  You ask me if I’m okay.  You ask me if it’s too hard for me to be around your daughter.  You ask me how I feel about different situations.  You give me the option of whether or not I can handle something.


You bring me down to earth.  You remind me that people don’t know this pain.  You remind me that many people get pregnant without any issues, and because of that, they may not appreciate the pregnancy like I would.  You remind me that they aren’t trying to minimize my feelings of not being able to get pregnant, but rather dealing with the current struggles in their life.   You remind me that people don’t know my struggle, therefore they can’t relate.


And lastly, you remind me that despite this struggle—I am lucky.  I am lucky to have an amazing support system.  I’m lucky that I have been brave enough to share my journey with family and friends. I'm lucky to have a great husband by my side through this.  And I’m lucky that I have a best friend who is willing to support me through a journey she struggles to understand.

Love Always,

Rachele

-----------------------

If you'd like to share your own letter be it if you've suffered a loss, infertility or both please email me at amandanicole1828@gmail.com (titled - 'Faces of Infertility / Loss'  or  ' The face of an Infertility / Loss Supporter' . I'm also encouraging supporters of family and friends to write a letter to someone who is struggling with infertility or a loss. Sometimes it's so encouraging and nice to hear from those who make such a huge impact on our journey. Without your support it'd be near impossible to find the strength to keep fighting.

Please refer to the following post (Letters from the Faces of Infertility/Loss)  about these letters for further details.

Faces of Infertility/Loss Letter series - Looking for people to feature!

Over the next little bit I'd like to open the floor up to my readers and fellow members of the Infertility and or Loss Community. I'd like to hear from you and  have you participate in my new letter series “Faces of Infertility/Loss” or  “A face of an infertility/loss supporter” . It's time this blog saw some other faces of infertility in hopes to help others going through the same thing.

Here's what I need from you:
If you could write a letter to a family member or friend about your journey who has been supportive or insensitive what would it say? Would you thank them for listening and being a shoulder to cry on? For their understanding even when they hadn’t been through what you have? Would you kindly tell them how their comments have hurt you in the past? If you were able to write such letter(s) what would they say?

You can do this anonymously by using Alias’ or you can share as many details about yourself as you'd like (that part is up to you and I will completely respect those wishes). Share your own blog in your story or use pen names.

I’m also accepting letters from some supporters. Just for them to be able to write an encouraging letter to a family member or friend who is struggling.

Please send all stories to amandanicole1828@gmail.com  Please include a brief story about your struggle or if you’re a supporter a brief story about yourself and the relationship you have with the person you’re writing the letter to.  Along with any added details you'd like shared. This is a great opportunity for you to share how you feel and perhaps someone else will really resonate with your story and your feelings. I'll email you the link when your story has gone live.

It still stings

Many would presume that after battling infertility for 4 years and finally getting our take home daughter that I would have just 'moved on' from what happened over the past 4 years. I find some times even in the 'company' of fellow strugglers I'm made to feel like I still shouldn't be having the feelings I do about infertility. Not that it's ever said out right but it's like people can move on. It kind of feels like infertility isolation all over again.

I have to be honest with you all here and now, infertility I don't feel is something you move on from, ever... At least it's certainly not the case for me, nor do you ever really move on from the loss, but that's another post for another day. INfertility for me is something that has and will stay with me, forever. My daughter will know what it took, she'll understand what so few people come to understand about infertility, partially because of the taboo nature of it all. Quick pregnancies still get me in the feelers, I still get that heart jumping in my throat reaction, I don't think about it, it just happens. Frankly after 4 years of it I don't know if that'll ever fully lessen, nor do I feel it really should because I still feel that way for our journey and for others who are still struggling.

I still have days where I feel bitter, I have days where I feel outright angry at our situation and what happened. How our life with our little girl was delayed for so long. I still have 'why me' days. Do you ever truly get over one of the hardest life struggles my family has faced? I have to say no, and I also want to say it's OKAY! It's okay that I still feel this way, it's okay that I haven't 'moved on'. How do you let something like that just go? How do you move on from something that was a HUGE part of your life, of your problems, struggles both mentally and physically throughout the years. HOW do you MOVE ON? WHY must one move on from that? Do I sit here depressed every day? Goodness no, but I don't feel for my life I'll 'move on' from this chapter in my life. It's just that, a chapter in my life, written and never erased. It'll remain to be re-read and sometimes emotions will rear their old head. What I ask is wrong with remembering and possibly at the odd time feeling that pain? I'm sure someone will find it unhealthy but I just don't feel like infertility is something you move on from. It's something that stays in your life sure it may be quieter once you find peace in whatever situation you are dealt be it a child, adoption or a life of childlessness. But I don't truly feel it's something you let go of. I feel like if I forget or move on, it's one less advocate for my friends in the struggle, one less advocate for me who did battle this disease, one less person who genuinely cares and remains mindful and down to earth to how it still hurts others to this day.

I think sometimes I feel almost anger that there has to be this division. That some expect you to be 'over it' once you get your child or come to peace with your family numbers as the are. That once that happens you shouldn't be talking about it any more. You shouldn't feel the need to be upset any more or be respectful the way you wanted those to be respectful towards you when it was all to hard to sometimes even go to baby showers for others or see new babies. (The only thing I'm bad at is facebook and I'm sorry for that. I do share photos of my daughter but it is because of family being far away and because well it's her and I feel I should relish in having her. However, I always feel bad when I do it. I feel bad because I feel like I'm betraying friends who are struggling. It helped when very close friends who were struggling told me they were okay with it. And I know they weren't bluffing they were being upfront and honest which I respect completely.

I do try to respect in other ways, during my pregnancy I tried to keep the posts to a minimum. For me pregnancy was always the hardest over the actual baby. I'm not sure why, still don't know why.

Sorry for this ramble but I needed to get it out. While the struggles have all be worth it to have my daughter and let me know we made it to where we are, it doesn't change what happened, what I felt and still at times feel to this day.

Infertility is a very unfair disease in a multitude of ways. Just because someone may end up having a child or come to peace with their situation doesn't mean it wasn't apart of who they were and still apart of who they are. Infertility is like a deep wound. Sure for some it may 'heal' up but the scar remains.