Faces of Infertility and Loss - Emily's letter; a different perspecitve

Emily's letter isn't so much the typical definition of infertility. But from a stance of hearing when you're a teenager that your fertility years will likely be spent with troubles getting pregnant. Emily has PCOS much like I have and many other ladies. I hope that her journey to conceive is a quick one. Some women with PCOS get lucky and don't have any issues and or conceive in that first 'normal' year of trying. Here's to hoping that you are one of those women Emily.

Thank you for sharing your perspective as I'm sure  there are others out there who have gotten news like this and need someone to relate to. I know this may not have been easy to share in such a public forum but I thank you for submitting your letter and sharing with us.
 


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Intro:
Hi! I'm Emily! My husband and I aren't currently TTC, but I was diagnosed with PCOS at 13 and was always told to expect having a "difficult, if not impossible" time conceiving a child naturally. I've experimented with a lot of different medications and even trying to self-regulate my cycles without the help of hormonal birth control all to no avail. We've been NTNP for a little over a year and will start actively trying this Christmas. I have so many fears jumping into this, and I'm trying to find any way that I can to try and put off our start date so that I can somehow delay what I feel will be our inevitable disappointment. This letter is to my husband.

My darling N,

I remember like it was yesterday the day you suggested we go shopping for engagement rings. I was equal parts elated and terrified because I knew that this meant a really difficult conversation. I remember you showing me the most gorgeous diamond ring and I remember seeing the all-encompassing love you had for me in that moment reflected in the way you looked at me as I tried it on. And I remember that look never wavering when you first heard the words "polycystic ovarian syndrome" and the lengthy explanation that followed. If I close my eyes and think hard enough, I can still feel your arms around me as I sobbed through apologies to you for the certain fertility difficulties that lay ahead for us, and I can still hear you telling me that I was insane when I said that I understood if you couldn't be with me anymore. As often as I feel it, you've never once let me get away with telling myself that I'm somehow broken. You listen to my tearful blathering as I discuss all of my worries with you, and the more excited you get about baby stuff, the more I feel my heart swell with love but my throat constrict with fear. But you're still my shining beacon of hope... in spite of (or maybe because of) all of my crazy. Your constant reassurances that we'll be ok have started to sink in, and I can only hope to absorb and adopt that same optimism when we face the (almost inevitable) challenges in the coming year. I couldn't have asked for a more understanding, caring, and positive person to share my life with, and I know that this journey is going to be hard - one of the hardest things we may ever do (until it comes time to actually raise a child) - but there's no one with whom I'd rather face the oncoming storm.

Faces of Infertility and Loss - Ashley's Letter

Dear women, and men facing infertility,

I am sorry.

Not that I am feeling sorry for you. But for not truly understanding your pain all of this time.

I am sorry for all those times when I may have made unintentional insensitive remarks without realizing that those words I uttered cut through your heart. I was ignorant about the pain of dealing with infertility.

I am sorry for not approaching you to inform you that my husband and I were trying for our son, and dropping the bombshell on you that we were pregnant out the blue. AT that time, I thought I was protecting you from the pain of trying to conceive, and did what I thought was right for you. What I did not realize is that I have put you on a spot, and forced you to relieve the pain of being childless.

I am sorry for all those times that I have come across as ‘in your face’ with pregnancy ailments, and complaints. I now understand you would give anything to experience, even the downside part, of a pregnancy.

I am sorry for all the baby milestone announcements. I did not realize that for those women and men who have lost their babies that hurt to be constantly reminded of not having a baby in their arms in the end.

It is not until the second time around of trying to conceive that I finally understood.

Swells of hope only to be dashed within the seconds when you learn that this is not your month.

Constantly temping to pinpoint whether you are ovulating or not.

Peeing on OPKs (ovulation prediction kit), and anxiously waiting for the green light to go ahead to do the deed.

Doctor visits.

Blood tests to be sent off, and analyzed while you are in the limbo, wondering if there is something wrong with you, and whether it is a quick fix or not.

Not getting a conclusive answer from the tests and going back to square one of wondering what is going on.

A frozen smile on your face when your friend announces to you that she is expecting; you feel as if you are a contradiction yourself, because you want so badly to be happy for your friend, yet your heart is breaking, because you desperately want that baby for yourself.

Suddenly, sex life becomes scheduled.

Facebook becomes your enemy, because you see nothing, but pregnancy announcements, and baby arrival announcements.

Dealing with all the unsolicited advice, well intentioned remarks that only makes you feel worse, and having to fend for yourself against unspoken questions why you are yet pregnant.

Getting a big fat positive on a pregnancy test, and only to lose that within a few days.

Feeling as if you are sitting on the sideline bleachers, and wondering when will it ever be my turn?

Yes, I am sincerely sorry for not truly understanding. 

It is difficult to be dealing with infertility, miscarriages, and infant loss in seemingly apathetic world. It is why it is critical for the awareness surrounding the topics with infertility to be brought up, discussed, and shared.

Instead of throwing unsolicited advice at someone dealing with infertility, please do open your arms, and say, I am here for you.

23,000 pageviews!

Managed to catch this today, how cool is that?! Thank you so much to everyone who's come to read my blog and the stories of others!

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

Intro Into Nora's Story:
Nick and I got married February 2nd, 2013. (I was ovulating on our wedding day, so our first cycle started January)

We are newly weds, I was finishing my licensing for work last year, and Nick transferred after 12 years from the Army to the Airforce. He will be training this October in Texas for three months.

Nick never actually responded to this letter. Which terrified me. However the next month he went to my first Creighton class, surprised me with knowing the answers to the questions (he had studied up), and now administers my 4 post peak HCG shots every month because there is no way I could watch it go in me! He changed over night after this letter. Although he never verbally said anything, or wrote me back... he instantly started supporting me. For example, when my sister in law announced she was pregnant, he simply walked over and wrapped his arm around me. Last month my best friend and I talked for 15 minutes very excitedly about her positive pregnancy test over the phone, and then I hung up and sat down... then started bawling because I simply was confused why I was broken. He moved over on the couch and hugged me and told me I wasn't broken and we would be fine. He held my hand for the rest of the night. I will never forget that.

I didn't realize that he simply didn't know HOW to calm me down. Now I feel so much better, because I am not taking this on alone. We have hope, and we will have our family

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Dear Nick,

I don’t know where to start but I needed to speak with you, without crying, or getting defensive or making you upset with me. Agh, seriously, I don’t know where to start. I wish I could express to you the emotion that I go through, or the things that run through my head.

Let me start out by saying, I love you. More than I can express, even though I try to say it a million times. My days are better, and I am a stronger person because you are in my life and I whole heartedly mean that. I know we will have many journeys together, and life will be fulfilling because I know I have you to go through it with.

Growing up I always wanted to be a wife and mother. Family is number one to me, and you know that. I thrive around the people I love most. Your success, your happiness and the happiness of our family seriously makes me feel like I am doing something right. That may sound silly, but it does. At the end of the day I could spend every moment with our families and with you and be content. Most of all I thank God, literally every day, to have you as my family and I couldn’t be more blessed.

I am going to be honest. When we got married I pictured you and I having a blast, ruling the world, talking easily together and overcoming all life’s obstacles, because it is you and I… and we rule like that. I feel we are very realistic and open and honest and truthful to one another. We have had two sets of parents who rocked at being husband and wives to each other and were great examples as well. I never thought it would be hard for me to talk with you about something. Until we started being open to having a baby.

Obsessing over this topic comes too easily for me, and we both know that. I also know it isn’t good for either of us if I do and I am really trying not to. I promise. I just need you to understand all the emotion in it for me, so that you understand how to support me when I need it.

I am terrified to talk with you about this topic, and it meant a lot to have you come with me Thursday to the doctor. I was really nervous to have you there to be honest and I don’t know why, but I knew I would need you one way or the other and it really made me feel like we were a team, and you and I were together going into it.

I am simply scared. There is no other way to put it. I think I assumed it was going to be easier to have a baby, because we have done everything the right way and when it didn’t happen when we were “not preventing” it started to worry me. Then it just grew from there.

To you, it may seem irrational, or too soon to worry and stupid to stress. But honey, I seriously can’t help it. I want to give you a family so badly. That’s all I want to be honest. If someone could say “In 18 months you two will be pregnant or will adopt” I would go about my day NOT being scared, because I would be fine knowing that for sure it will happen. But that’s not how it works, and so I feel helpless, when I like to be in control.

I want to have a family with you more than I want to achieve my career goals, or live in a big house, or travel. I want to have a little one who makes messes on the floor, who plays in the garage and watches you work on cars, a little one to fall asleep on our lazy Mona, and feed her their food. I want a little one who we can take camping, and you can teach them how to start a fire, and I can teach them how to make homemade pasta for their Dad. I want to go on walks, and take them down the slide, teach them their prayers and to run to you when you walk in the door from work. I want them to be stubborn and strong willed like us, to the point of frustration, where you’re laughing at me and reminding me that I asked for this.

I know we will somehow, but the unknown terrifies me and there is no way I can stop myself from being afraid. I don’t know how to handle it. I feel so strongly that I need to talk with you about being afraid, or when I struggle. But just approaching you scares the hell out of me because I don’t want you to think I am stupid, or silly, or crazy.

I have gotten better since working out, the not obsessing about it. I think I have been too busy these last three months to really think about it too much. But that doesn’t mean it is easy for me every day and I know you know that already. I will be good for a couple weeks. Then right before I start my period… I wonder. Then when my period does come it’s a wave of
-fear for the “what ifs”
- Jealousy of all those around me who have what I want so badly
-anxiety over whether something is wrong with me
- sadness for the emptiness I feel because of how desperately I wanted
- Even somehow relief over not being at “that point” yet
- And excitement for there to be another chance and more time for just you and I.

In ONE moment I feel a million things and it is overwhelming. It doesn’t mean I don’t have hope, or don’t think it’s all worth it, because within a day or so it all goes away and I am fine till the next month comes. But … in one moment I literally picture you and I raising a baby that I want to give you, picture every one of my close friends who are pregnant or just had a baby, picture us struggling with this for longer than we think we will.

Agh.. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just such an emotional process for me. There is good in it too. I feel in one year we have come so much closer and a lot of it is because I feel as though I NEED you to be here by my side. Whether you think it is obsessive or not when you hear it.

It may not always have been pretty, but every time we work through something together, every time we go to mass together or pray together, every time you grab my hand or hug me tightly, every time you wink at me, wrap your arms around me, help me with the dishes, joke about how hilarious I am, or just do those little things… I am reminded just how strong our life together is. I know we are way more open than what we would have been not trying to grow our family, because feeling all of these emotions has forced me to be upfront right away, whether I am nervous or not. It has always paid off too. I don’t know if I would have so quickly been able to talk about work stress or plans so openly, or talk about my dreams of our family.

God has given us more grace in one year than some couples ever experience, that I am certain of.

I am still scared honey. This topic of “what if” is an uncomfortable one for me and that is why I need you. It dwells in my mind, even when I try to push it away. When I said my vows to you though, I promised myself that I would trust you with my whole heart and soul to care for me. I know that you will be here for me through it all, just as willing as I would be there for you. I know you love me so much and care about me, and … I think… when you hear me stress about this, just like with anything else, it makes you mad because you know “there is nothing we can do about it and we just have to wait and see”.

I’m still just scared.

I think that I am coming across wrong when I am talking to you about it. When I come to you on this, I am terrified to even talk about it. I’m scared you will shove it away or say not to worry, because you don’t want me to think about it. But that doesn’t help me not worry, it just makes me feel alone and crazy. Infertility is seriously my greatest fear in life and I can’t change that, even if I tried.

I want you to know though that I am not all doom and gloom about it, I just only express the doom and gloom, because that’s when I need you there for me. I know we will have a family, and I know it will happen when the time is right, and that is probably what makes the few hard days harder. Because I can see us with a family. I picture it very vividly. Those day dreams are seriously so amazing and get me so excited and give me so much hope and joy.

I don’t know how I really want to end this letter. I just…. I need to hear your support. I know you may not understand just how much of a rollercoaster, or WHY it is such a roller coaster for me. But I have come to the conclusion... it just is, no matter how much I try to control my emotions. And I need you Nick. Please just hug me, and tell me some day we will have a family whether that is 5 years or ten years or next month, and that it is okay to want to move forward. Please just tell me that you are here for me, and that you love me and that you want a family with me too. I know all of this is true, but on those bad days, I panic and get scared. It helps to hear these things because it assures me that you are in this with me, no matter how easy or bumpy it is. Heck in one moment everything can change. Who knows maybe this month will be our month, or maybe we will have a Texas souvenir when I come visit you on base next year.. Or maybe 12 months, or 36 months or whenever will be our time. But in those moments of my own self-doubt, I just need a hug and you to say “We got this babe” because I know that we do. I just need to verbally hear it from you, so I am not afraid and feeling like I am taking it on all alone.

I love you so much. I hope you have a great day honey.

Your girl,

Nora
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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.

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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.

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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.