It’s OK to Get Off of This Rollercoaster

wedeserveababy:

I’m sharing this line from a very wise, very badass friend and infertility warrior. I’m sharing it because it is an important message to hear. I’m sharing it in hopes that this message gets shared more often because it doesn’t seem to be an option that we’re offered very often—at least, not with sincerity or compassion.

I’ve had dozens of drafts written over the past few months, but found that the thoughts and feelings I poured into them were constantly changing. After miscarriage No.4, the one that we threw everything at—all the best doctors, all the expensive cutting-edge medication, all the tests—I had had enough. Physically, I had enough. Financially, I definitely had enough. Emotionally, I was beyond done. Yet, strangely, I still ordered meds for another cycle that we will never go through.

It’s so hard to get off this roller coaster. It really is. Especially when you go through so much and invest a huge part of your life only walk away without a baby. But I have been in the infertility community a very long time. I’ve put myself through a nauseating amount of horrible treatments. I’ve done God-knows how much irreparable damage to my body and health with all these treatments—while ignoring the fact that they’re still not studied for long term side effects. And I started to notice the depressing amount of women around me who are *literally* killing themselves slowly by going through these treatments over and over again. Health and happiness set aside, plowing forward and taking hit after hit after hit.

Even of the ones I watched “graduate”,  many have had horrific pregnancies that were filled with terror each and every day. They have gone through serious complications (yes, plural ‘complications’). They worry each day if the baby they carry is still healthy—or alive. They worry about their own health with each new complication that gets dropped in their lap. The flurry of tests, the team of doctors, the growing tower of medical bills—that didn’t go away with a BFP. They count down the days until birth not out of excited anticipation but out of panicked fear, just wanting the end to be here before disaster hits. And the lucky ones who do have a healthy, happy baby are still left with the devastation infertility has done to their marriage, finances, mental health and bodies—only now they have a child that takes priority above the cleanup of any of those things. 

I decided that this is not what I want. I decided that the well-being and physical/mental/financial health of me and my husband are more important than than continuing the hard, expensive journey to have a child through any means—ART or adoption. That, if we should succeed in becoming parents (biologically or through adoption), we should be the best people we can be in order to provide the life we want for that child. And right now, that’s not it. Right now, a child would come in to a shit storm of anxiety and trauma and medical debt. And that’s not fair to any of us.

After a lot of discussion, soul searching and careful reflection, my husband and I have chosen a Child-free life. And that word is a terrifying word after 7 years of treatments. It’s not one that’s easy to digest when you’ve spent tens of thousands to get pregnant. But the taking care of ourselves and get reacquainted with our new mindset after nearly a decade of trauma is what is right for us.

I went through all the stages of grief and then went through them again. But, to my surprise, I didn’t grieve as long as I thought I would. I quickly found relief—SO MUCH relief—that this chapter is over and I could move on with my life free of injections and bloodwork and IV infusions and constant worry and terror.

I found great resources and stories from other women who battled infertility and decided to take their eggs and go home—there are many more of us than you think. And, I found comfort from exploring the views and outlooks from women who CHOOSE not to have children. Those ladies have shown me that living a life without children can be just as beautiful, meaningful and impactful as the lives of women who choose to be mothers. That motherhood is one choice in many that a woman can choose.

There is a lot of collateral damage in my life that will need repair. And I can’t say that everything is bright and shiny and I live a trigger-free life. But I CAN say that I have been better than I have been for years. And a lot of things that used to cause me stabbing pain now only pack a sting.

But what hurts the most now, is seeing women who don’t have kids—by choice or by chance—get told that they aren’t valid. That their lives are less than the lives of women who are mothers. That their needs and struggles aren’t important. That their voices don’t need to be heard. 

And I think ‘acceptance’ is what is lacking. Acceptance when a woman doesn’t have kids. Acceptance when she doesn’t want them. And maybe, just maybe, that would make it easier for some of us to accept when we can’t have them. To accept that we are infertile, and it’s not what we originally wanted, but it’s OK. 

Our lives aren’t over. Our purpose is only yet to be discovered. Our possibilities are endless. And we don’t have to use our uteruses to be important.

So, once more, for those in the back:

It’s OK to get off this rollercoaster. There are many many other rides out there to experience. And YOU get to choose which ones you ride next.