6. "I can't talk to anyone about this" results in isolation.
7. "It's not fair that she is pregnant" results in resentment.
8. "I would be a better mom" results in judgement and pride.
9. "I deserve a child" results in a false sense of entitlement.
10. "My life is incomplete without children" results in discontentedness.
6. Isolation. When I was younger I used to think of isolation as an island in the middle of the ocean. An incredibly small island like I drew with markers as a little kid. With a palm tree and coconuts right in the middle of a perfectly round beach surrounded by blue water. There was the occasional shark. As I grew older, isolation became something different. Isolation became a girl with dark hair sitting in a glass box in her public school cafeteria. She could see the world happening, and people could see her, but she lived in her glass box, unable to interact with anyone, keeping everyone where they couldn't hurt her. You see, I used the think that isolation just meant alone, but it means so much more. Alone means "having no one else present." It's deep. Isolation is defined as "to cause (a person or place) to be or remain alone or apart from others." Synonyms for alone include "by oneself, solo, single" while the list for isolation has words and phrases like "segregated, cut off, detached, shut away." There is a vast difference. Isolation is a willful act to bring aloneness upon yourself or someone else in the ugliest way possible.
As women who struggle with infertility, we often find ourselves out of words. We are tired of telling people that we do want kids, adding the tried and true "someday, hopefully" or "if that's God's plan for us" with the awkward end-this-madness-now smile as you make for the nearest exit. I jokingly told my husband that if people keep asking me when we are going to have kids that I am going to tell them that we are having sex on average 3-5 times per week, ovulating right on schedule and hoping to conceive any day now! He said no. We can't openly talk about our struggles because…well…it always comes back to sex. "Have you tried this or that position?" "Er…I don't know what you are talking about…" and exit stage right. "Well are you having sex regularly?" "Umm…" RUN AWAY! I literally have had people asking me if I'm "sure I'm doing it right?" What? Yes. Pretty sure. Even close girlfriends don't seem to understand what you are going through right in front of them. They have "things" too, so your lack of offspring isn't as pressing to them as their lack of husband, lack of job, lack of means to pay off student loans, etc.
So is it hard to talk to people about infertility? Yes. Is it impossible? No. When we decide that our infertility is too personal or too embarrassing or too exhausting to share with anyone, then we close ourselves off from the world. We build our own glass boxes and the world passes us by at time lapse speeds while we sit, eating alone, and watching. It is imperative that we find someone to let into our glass box. We have to find a Bible study group, a support group, a friend, a counselor, someone.
7. Resentment. Ah, resentment. I don't think that there are any infertile women out there who have not dealt with resentment. We resent ourselves, we resent our bodies, we resent our doctors, our families, our genes, our upbringing, our dreams, some of us resent our husbands, and oh how easy it is to resent THEM. Those pregnant women. From the time we see their little ultrasound picture or pee stick selfie on Facebook through the months of belly profiles, morning sick posts, cancelled plans and weight gain all the way to delivery, first tooth, first word, first step, first grade, first communion, first love, we resent them. We love them, for the most part, (well we love the ones we care about. Random coworkers or old high school friends are resent-able without most of the guilt.) but we still struggle to squash the nagger inside of our hearts that says "It's not fair" and "Shut up about your *@#% ruined body/furniture/car/day!" Because we want it. All of it.
There is no pill. No cure for a heart so hurt that it can feel all of the unfair cruelty of the world in the conception and birth of a little wonder being. No rationale for the dark thoughts and moods that we will fall into so easily. But the best defense is a good offense and we do have that. See, I believe that filling yourself with something positive won't leave room for the negativity. Challenge yourself to become an encourager. A babysitter. Become a helper to the woman that you would normally spend hours Facebook stalking and frowning at the parenting choices she is making. Make her dinner. Get to know her and her baby. Resentment is hard. It is unmalleable. It takes going into the hottest fire, the places that are the most likely to burn you, to melt that down into something else. Something that can be molded by your character and decisions into compassion, love, kindness, others focused. It hurts, but the longer you hold onto the resentment, the harder your heart will become.
8. Pride. This is something I don't really talk about because it is one of my biggest struggles with my infertility, but my heart is changing and I wanted to include this, just in case there is someone else who struggles and would like a hand. In a world where we feel self conscious and our own purpose and self worth is called into question daily…by ourselves…for women in general, and specifically women with infertility, pride seems to be something that we should never have to worry about. How can we be full of self loathing and also struggle with pride? It happens, my friends, and it's way too easy. Any woman who wants a baby and doesn't have one has felt this: I would so be a better mom than her. We have all met the teenage moms, the workaholic moms, the single moms, the lazy moms and the whiny moms. The moms who say "I didn't even want to have children this soon" and "This was a total surprise, we aren't sure what we are going to do" and "I'm too old or too young to be raising a kid" and "I was on birth control and everything, but you know, it happens." No, not for me. It doesn't happen for me. And those women are undeserving. Undeserving because they didn't try hard enough. They didn't want bad enough. They didn't even have to hurt over years of uncertainty and grief over the life they hadn't carried. Those women are going to be terrible mothers. They are going to use cheap diapers, generic baby food, too much (or not enough) scheduling. They won't be the kind of mom's to sign up to be Room Mom or make the fancy cupcakes or know the best schools/preschools/church nurseries/grocery stores/parks in the area. They don't have what it takes, you know they don't. And you do. You, without a child, you know all of that. You know what sales the stores run on baby items and you are primed and ready to start stocking up. You have already bought a house in the right neighborhood (you know, with a cul-de-sac and a pool), perfect for raising a family. Your dog is hypoallergenic. Just in case.
Do you see how easy it is? Easy to judge others? Easy to pride ourselves on our would-be accomplishments? But I have learned that I am wrong. Almost all the time. I have seen a teen mom push herself to finish college while going a darn good job of parenting the most amazing little girl. I have seen that the "workaholic mom" is really just trying to provide for her family and that she still manages to make time for the important things. I have seen numerous single moms who are running a household, being both parents, often to multiple children, and still showing up for every recital. No, they may not run things like you or I imagine that we will one day, but I had to realize that I would not be a better mother to their children because of it. I'm not the best person for the job, that mom is. She is doing a great job and I need to understand that my judgement is a result of my pride which often comes from the overall feeling that I have left at the end of the day: It's just not fair. But that has nothing to do with other moms and so we need to stop holding it against them when they get (sometimes so easily) what we so desperately want.
9. Entitlement. This one goes hand in hand with pride, so I'm not going to spend a lot of time here, but I think it is an important little piece of my puzzle. Honestly, I do feel like I deserve a kid. I have put in my time working with kids, serving people, following all the rules and staying sexually pure. I deserve it. I have to fight this feeling every day and I don't have a quick fix other than that I know that it doesn't make me feel better, it doesn't bring me closer to Christ and it doesn't make me pregnant, so it's really not something that I need to spend my time focusing on. So for me, as a Christian, it's a conscious effort to refocus onto what I deserve (hell) and what I have been given (life). Perspective is important.
10. Discontentedness. 3-2-1 Penguins was a Big Idea production (the same folks who brought us Veggie Tales) in the early 2000's. One episode was about being discontent. I don't remember all of the details, but the theme was about not complaining about the things we don't have and the accompanying Scripture verse was Phil. 2:14 "Do everything without complaining or arguing…that you may shine like stars in the universe." The theme song had the lyrics "Don't be a seed if a seed is what you are. You need to be a bright and shining star!" That song has stuck with me over the years when I have really found myself becoming discontent or complaining. Do everything without complaining or arguing. Does that really include living with infertility? Am I really expected to live this way without complaining to anyone or arguing with God? I have spent a lot of time in Phil. 2 during the past year. Sometimes I am not sure how to play all of the roles in my life well and the words that Christ "emptied himself and took on the very nature of a servant" has encouraged and challenged me daily. (Recently I read that chapter in the light of infertility and I found that God had a lot to say to me, enough for another post, but I think maybe you should check it out yourself, if you feel led.) To answer my question, yes. I think it does mean that I should strive to live without complaining and without becoming a seed of discontent, wearing down those around me and filling with resentment and selfishness when the discontentedness drains me and leaves me empty. Instead, I should put my focus on other things and find fulfillment there. Ultimately I should be fulfilled in Christ, and then in serving my husband, friends, church and community, in encouraging others, in my work. I should begin to find that my life, my family, and my heart is and can be complete with or without children. Only when I accept this, not as giving up or as failure or a plan B, but as Truth, can I be free from the discontent and emptiness of my childlessness.
Love.
