When It's Hard To Connect

My life isn't organized around my children. That must be obvious since I don't have children. But it's such a sneaky little (big) thing that I forget myself and it's my life. But, that's probably because I'm living my life, which is not organized around my children as we just established, so when I remember that the rest of the world's is AND they expect mine to be organized in the same way... Well, it can be jarring. It makes me feel like a puzzle piece that never quite fits in.

Traveling reminded me. I took a really cool trip with my mom and sisters last month. It was a lot of fun and we met some other nice people too. But wow, does everyone talk about their kids and grandkids nonstop. I mean, they really do. It's an objective fact. This isn't me being sensitive. 

My mom even started telling her birth story about having me one night when it was just me and my sisters. They were reminiscing about the night I was born. I interrupted to say, "I usually don't listen to any mother's birth story, but I'll listen to yours because it's about me."

One of my sisters always talks about her kid. Always has. It's a little weird and now it feels awkward for me because I don't talk to her adult kid but whatever. That's my sister and that's her kid that I've known for the kid's whole life. I listen. It's fine. 

Hearing about other people's kids constantly doesn't hurt me like it used to. It makes sense. These people have kids so it makes sense for them to talk about them. I just noticed on the trip how much this topic can dominate conversations. There were several group dinners where I just didn't say much at all. (But don't worry about me, the food was awesome, haha.)

And you know it's not just my family. It was the various people we met too. Everyone talked about their kids and their grandkids. A lot. Again, normal. I mean, not for me. But it's normal for them.

But it was so much that I even asked the sister I was rooming with, "Do you notice how much everyone talks about their kids?" And she said yes, she'd definitely noticed. She also said she didn't know if she would've noticed if I wasn't there. But with my presence, she realized how common the conversation topic was.

So I noticed the obvious while traveling--that my life isn't organized around children.

But I also notice it now that I've moved. 

Obviously, I don't have any friends here. I just moved and I don't know anyone. Luckily, every co-worker I've met has been nice and friendly. But, you know, those are my co-workers. I would hope they could be nice and friendly, at least on the surface.

So then I think about where and how to meet some new friends. I know these things take time. Good friendships can take years to form. That's fine. I'm in no hurry. I never want to leave my house anyway, haha. That's actually why I'm thinking about this now. I know I will want to have a friend or two in a couple of years, so I know I better start leaving my house every now and then for something social so I can meet some people. 

But my age group is still busy raising their kids.

This is nothing new to me, but I am confronting it all over again as I think about how to meet new people. It just comes back to how your life is organized. And people's priorities and activities can be very different. We are all busy, but we are busy doing different things on different schedules. 

 

Clip art found on Vecteezy

I'm going to try a sewing workshop. 

A lot of them are during the day while I'm at work, but there are still some offered in the evenings and on the weekends. I signed up for one in a couple of weeks. A day long workshop where we learn a new technique and create a completed project in the day. I know I won't want to go when the day comes, haha. (I'll feel tired and just want a break.) But then I am going to make myself go and I know I'll be glad I went. Whether I end up liking the project or not isn't the point, although
I think I'll like it. 

It's good to get out of the house, be around people, and try something new.

Changes Over Time with My BFF

Out of all of my friends that I've written about on this blog, I haven't told you about the friend that I was closest to: my best friend from college. I met her within the first month or two of our first semester. She was so cool, and I wanted to be her friend. We were housemates the following year. She traveled abroad our third year and then we rented apartments in the same neighborhood our final year. It was so fun being her friend and I trusted her with everything. I was so anxious but outgoing, and she was so rational but shy in big groups. We were a good pair together. We complimented each other well. She helped me immensely.

We graduated college and continued to talk on the phone almost every day for the next couple of years. Then, inevitably, the demands of life increased and we no longer had as much free time to do that. But still, we were very much in touch.

When I got engaged, she was happy for me... But also sad for herself. She really, really wanted to be engaged. She and her boyfriend had been together for years and she was ready to get married. We talked openly about it and I said what we both already knew--that we weren't always going to be on the same timeline as each other. (Yes, this was some Real Life foreshadowing...)

My best friend and her boyfriend came to my wedding, even though it wasn't a destination they would have personally chosen. She was totally present with me and happy for me, and it was a great celebration. She and her boyfriend were engaged within the next six months, and my husband and I went to their wedding the following year. Yay! We were both newlyweds.

Then she called to tell me she was pregnant. And I was happy for her... But also sad for myself. I hadn't even started trying yet; my husband didn't want to. I also had a feeling of dread that it wasn't going to happen for me. And this was my best friend. She knew everything about me. She knew about my fear of infertility. I confided in her about it in college and she assured me I was worrying for nothing. She was the rational one. I tried to believe her.

And now she was pregnant. Which was great. But our lives were moving in different directions...

We didn't talk as much.

Several years and two kids later (two for her, none for me obviously), we were still loosely in touch. But she was busy with baby and toddler things. I was busy with fertility treatments and grief. I knew my life wouldn't be like this forever. Neither would hers. I hoped we'd reconnect again later down the road...

We always stayed in touch. But we lived on opposite sides of the country and did not have much in common, aside from our shared history in college. 

She had a third kid. I was surprised, but I'm sure she and her husband were more surprised, lol. They were already in the thick of things with parenting though, so, hey, what's one more? Haha. 

Anyway, the years passed by and life went on... Her kids and career were growing, and I was going back to school and moving a bunch just trying to find a place to land.

Then earlier this year, when I was going through the breakup (wow, that feels so long ago!), I texted her to let her know. She was so kind and supportive with her messages. And she also invited me on her family's summer vacation. Me with her, her husband, and their three kids.

And I realized, if I am going to meet my best friend's kids while they are still kids, I need to meet them NOW.

I couldn't believe she invited me on their freaking family vacation. We hadn't even seen each other in 12 years. I mean, I know her husband and I feel completely comfortable with both of them, but still... In a way, it was just a trip to see old friends. But with infertility, in another way, the trip was a lot to consider.

I did it. I went. I flew across the country and spent a week with my best friend from college and her family. And it was so awesome. Amazing. No regrets. So much fun. 10/10 will do it again.

(Obviously, working through everything and getting back together with my boyfriend was the best thing about the breakup. But the second best thing was going out of my comfort zone and taking that trip to see my best friend!)

Were there hard moments? Yes. Was it bittersweet? Also yes. But this is my life and I want to live it. I want to see my best friend and meet her kids and spend time with her family. Like I said in my previous post, it's the person that makes the difference in a situation. And my best friend is awesome. And so are her kids.

(Re)Connections/Seeing Old Friends

I was extremely lonely during my years of trying to conceive and undergoing fertility treatments.

Well, first, let me back up real quick. I missed my blogoversary last month. I started this blog in October 2016, a year and a half after my last failed IVF. I was deep in grief and back in school for the first time in a decade. And now it is November 2023, seven years later... 

The whole passing-of-time thing never ceases to amaze me.

Speaking of time, I went and visited longtime friends last week. I have written about all of them here over the years. I have known each person for ten to twenty-five years, but I hadn't seen anyone in at least five and a half. I am so grateful that I got to see these women from different periods of my life. I am thankful for every lunch, dinner, and late night I got to have. (I think the key to seeing everyone was having the idea months ago, texting people, and getting on their calendar at least three months in advance.) 

Three of the friends I saw have kids. Three other friends don't. One older friend has grown children and grandchildren. One friend couldn't go when a small group of us were getting together because of her kid's sports games. But, she made lunch reservations for us downtown during her lunch hour during the week, and I had the greatest one-on-one time with her.

It was interesting being on this side of things, eight years after I stopped fertility treatments. It was very different. Because I wasn't living in a place of longing for things to be different, I wasn't sad or even anxious. I was able to just be happy and present with the people I love. 

It was a trip I had been looking forward to, and I had a lot of fun. I hadn't been back to where I used to live for five years. Then it was great to come home. To where and with whom I live now.

It's the fall, and a lot is behind me. Graduation, pediatric coverage, my two trips. And also, I realize, I no longer feel the acute grief of involuntary childlessness. The lifelong loss is still there, but it doesn't constantly hurt now.

I think we've all learned a lot in 2023, whether we realize it or not. 

I can't put it into words... I can't put words to much of what we've all experienced in the last several years. But I know I'm proud of everyone. Kids or no kids. I think there are a lot of moving parts to life, and it is challenging to stay on top of it all. 

So, if you want, (re)connect with friends when and where you can. 

I sent one of my best friends from college a text a couple of years ago. We had been out of touch for many years, and it turns out she didn't have my new number or my correct email address. I stayed with her at the end of the week.

Three of my other friends that I saw have been my friends since we were teenagers, but it was really hard for me when they got pregnant and grew their families while I was wanting to do that too. Our lives took different paths. We understandably didn't see each other as much, but we still cared and always had each other's numbers.

Another couple of friends are women that just didn't have kids. One is married. I stayed with her at the beginning of the week. One is divorced. Both of their not having kids were for all different reasons and factors and whatnot.

We are not in contact all of the time, but we are in contact overall. I love my friends so much. Incredibly, everyone is happy and healthy right now. So we all got to celebrate that.

I'm grateful infertility didn't ultimately take all of these important connections from me. 

You know I love quilts. And I love gratitude too.
And it's November. So I thought the picture above was cute.
(It's a quilt pattern that you can find here.)

Blast from the Past (And an Answer!)

I am feeling very grateful right now. I heard from an old friend yesterday. We were best friends for over a decade until we started to drift apart about a decade ago. Our drifting apart hurt me so bad, and I wrote about it here: What Happened to My Friends Without Kids?

Well, last year I decided to text her on her birthday. We never had a falling out or harsh words. And I missed her. So I took a chance and sent a text. I figured I had nothing to lose but hopefully something to gain.

She immediately texted back! Turns out, she was so happy to hear from me because she didn't have my new number and she had emailed me every year on my birthday! (Where those emails went, I have no idea. I have searched and searched my accounts for them. I have yet to find those unread birthday emails.)

And so we were back in touch and texted occasionally.

Yesterday my phone rang. What?? I mean, nobody calls anymore... It was her, and she was just calling to talk. Actually, she called to lovingly chastise me for disappearing for a couple of years, and I was able to tell her that not having kids was really hard for me so I fell into a hole and didn't emerge until I had found my new spot in life.

We hadn't talked in 5.5 years and it felt like we had talked the day before. Gahhhh!  Priceless.

*****

So aside from this good news that I am back in touch with one of my closest friends, two very interesting points came up in our conversation.

One, I just so happened to learn what was going on with her while I was trying to conceive. I didn't ask directly or anything, but she just shared openly and unknowingly gave me an answer to a question I always wondered about: what happened to my friend without a kid??

Turns out, she had started dating a new guy. (That's when I knew we were drifting apart. I found out about her new boyfriend from a mutual friend, not her.) This guy had two kids, was going through a divorce, and didn't want any more kids. So, as I am completely lost and nearly despondent over not being able to get pregnant, she was struggling with knowing whether or not having kids was important to her. She told me it was a big decision and she talked to her psychiatrist about it endlessly. In the end, she decided she did not want kids and proceeded with the relationship. They have since broken up, but my friend still doesn't want kids and feels confident in her decision because she put so much thought and time into it.

Yep. As I was struggling with infertility, my friend was struggling with her decision. No wonder she couldn't be there for me how I wanted her to be there for me back then. (Side note, was it even possible for someone to be there for me in the way I wanted back then? I'm thinking no...)

Wow. When do we ever get answers? When do we ever get closure? And I got some yesterday.

*****

The second point is sad. Maybe I should have started with it first? End on a happy note? But... As we all know, that's not how life goes. So here is the second point.

So, my friend decided not to have kids. Then her younger sister tried for years and couldn't. So you know what that means. My friend's mom is not a grandmother; my friend's mom does not have grandchildren. And, apparently, she is DEVASTATED. She has cried to my friend multiple times and she's not engaging in the healthiest of behaviors. My friend is concerned about how much her mom is drinking and how poorly her mom is recovering from a months-old surgery.

Hearing that made me sad. I understand my friend's complete annoyance and even anger, but I also completely empathize with her mom. Her mom is feeling a deep, deep pain that nobody can help her with. It got me thinking about the disenfranchised grief and the ambiguous loss involved with grandchildlessness. Yes, my friend's mom got to have kids, raise them, and be a mother. But she also thought her life would take the natural progression and she would have grandchildren. Just like all of her friends are doing. But she's not. And she's sad, left out, alone, and grieving.

Involuntary childlessness (like my friend's sister) has such a far-reaching, multifaceted impact.

It changes people's lives.

*****

I'm happy. I'm sad. I'm grateful.

I'm happy for myself and where I am and what I'm doing. I'm sad for my friend's mom and everyone else across the world grieving the loss of their children and grandchildren. And I'm grateful to be back in touch with a friend that is so important to me.

💜

A Happy Update

Healing can happen in all sorts of ways.

I had a really good friend for many years. Our parents know each other. We went to school together. We have history. I've written about her before. She's the one whose daughter was very special to me. I went to every birthday party until I didn't. She also really hurt my feelings. I don't usually write about things until long after they've happened. Those posts are over five years old. When they happened is even longer ago than that.

Like I said, we have history together. So even though I felt like the friendship had ended, it hadn't totally. She still texted me once or twice a year and I always replied. She always remembered my birthday. I always remembered hers. She texted me a really cute picture when her daughter went to her first school dance. It meant a lot to me.

Well, last week I remembered something funny her daughter said when she was a toddler, and so I texted it to my old friend. She replied and we had a nice exchange. 

I'm not hurt anymore. I understand the birthday party that I wasn't invited to... It wasn't anything personal. I know the comments she made that hurt my feelings were coming from her own struggles at the time. I empathize with both of our past selves; we were hurting in our own ways. I was going through infertility and her (now ex-) husband was making life difficult. 

But, that is all in the past. Current me doesn't care about all of that anymore. Here is a woman who texts me on my birthday every year. We are adults. Our birthdays aren't the big deal that they were when we were kids. And still, she remembers it. I like that.

So like I said, I texted her the other day and we had a nice exchange. I told her about my going back to school, and she told me about her recent promotion. It just felt good. 

I invited her out to where I live. (It's a great destination for a vacation. Out of the city. Beautiful country.) I said she, her daughter, and her new husband could stay with me. Or they could stay in the resort town an hour away. Either way, it would be a good trip. She said she's going to plan for it next year or for the year after that. 

It felt really good.

Not only was I not hurt and angry, I was just enjoying texting with my friend.

My good, longtime friend. 

Maybe we haven't been in touch as much. Maybe we've missed some major moments. But that's okay. That's life and that's adult friendship, especially when you live 1200 miles apart. 

I'm happy she's still in my life. I'm extremely grateful for healing.

Left Behind

The title of this post could easily describe me during the darkest years of my grief. 

I felt left behind. My friends and family were getting pregnant, having babies, and raising toddlers. I was left behind. Sure, my friends and family were nice people and they loved me. I was welcome to join them in the new season of their lives. But it always felt like I was entering and exiting a different world. I would have a hangover of feelings for days after hanging out.

Then there were my friends who didn't have kids. I was left behind there too. I was stuck in grief.

Elaine wrote about her six year blogging anniversary. Part of her post read, "Six years. Wow. There is so much gratitude. For everything I was able to overcome, leave behind, and learn."

For everything I was able to... leave behind.

That really stuck out to me. 

What if I wasn't left behind? What if it was me that was doing the leaving?

We all know I didn't have kids. That I went back to school to change careers. That I uprooted my life and moved 1200 miles across the country. That I left my marriage and got divorced. 

I left behind old hopes and dreams, dysfunctional relationships, and a life that didn't fit anymore.

Left behind.

One little phrase can mean so much. 

One little phrase can be turned around with a change in perspective.

Still Stings

Well, this is far from the first time something like this has happened, but it still stings.

I got ghosted by a friend. He just stopped replying to my texts. Then yesterday I learned through a mutual friend that his wife just had their third kid.

Oh.

I lost another friend to parenthood.

It sucks. It stings.

When we became friends he already had his first kid. I was happy for him and his wife when they had their second kid. But I didn't make the cut for their third kid. 

I get it. He's busy. His life is going a hundred miles an hour in another direction.

I also don't get it. A parent is still a person. They still get to have 5 - 10 minutes of free time every now and then to text a friend. Personally, I think I'm a good friend. I also think I'm a good person to keep around because I will always be an outlet completely separate from the parenting world, which I'm sure is a much needed mental break every now and then. Not to mention, I'm busy too. Life is made up of what you make space for.

But the dynamics and rhythms in people's lives change and friendships often don't last, especially when one person has kids and the other doesn't.

I'm done pursuing friendships with people with kids. I can be friendly, but I doubt I'll ever be in an active friendship again with a person who is currently raising children.

I've had enough loss in my life.

Rereading Old Posts

NOW:

We are six weeks into the new year and I have been processing A LOT, including, but not limited to, quitting my job, my marriage and divorce, relationships with family members, my relationship with myself, and how I continue to live my life after infertility without my children. It hasn't been easy. I thought I cried a lot before 2021? Well, this year has been especially... Cleansing.

I do feel a strong internal pressure to get moving (i.e., get a new job), but I know that if I do right now I will not be effective in whatever I do next. How do I explain that in a professional way in my next job interview? "Yeah, I took some time off to finally process, uninterrupted, the last traumatic decade of my life?" No... I'll have to come up with a different answer. In the meantime, I will continue to replenish my resources.

I have a lot to be thankful for, but that's not what I'm processing. I am processing the onslaught of meanness that I allowed in my life for so long. I am realizing what I need to feel loved and known and I am learning how to communicate my boundaries, whether they are respected or not.

I don't want to constantly analyze my feelings and interactions, but I am TIRED of reliving the same dynamics over and over. I must think and read and reflect about all of this stuff so that I can empower myself to change my ingrained patterns. 

I've worked hard and I deserve to enjoy the happiness I've found and created for myself. I don't have to explain or justify it, no matter who is demanding answers from me (e.g., my mom). I don't have to answer the phone if I know I am only going to be insulted (e.g., my middle sister).

THEN:

While going through infertility, I lost the majority of my friendships. It HURT SO BAD. But it changed me forever. I am no longer eager to have people in my life just because I've known them a long time or because we are related. I need people that support me and that I can support. I don't need a big group of people. I have definitely learned that lesson.

I'm going through and rereading my old posts so I can add labels to them. When I was first reading IF blogs, this was one of my favorite ways to read people's old posts. I would click on a label that resonated with me that day and read all of the related posts. So that is what I am going back and doing for my posts now.

Wow. It has been an interesting experience going back and reading what I wrote. I'm so glad I started blogging when I did or I would have forgotten so many thoughts and feelings from my recovery process. I have grown. A LOT. I can see it in my own writing. I am stronger, more self-confident, and more self-assured. I have my experiences with infertility and my hard-earned recovery from it to thank for my newfound clarity.

But you know what? Growth is lonely. Growth is change. And people don't do well when you start changing. You can't be their subconscious punching bag anymore. You can't be the person they know that is worse off than them. (Yes, this gives certain personality types a vast amount of comfort.) You aren't the same person anymore and they don't know how to handle the new you. Some people will celebrate with you. Some people are up for the excitement of getting to know the new you and your growth. Others simply fade away.

NOW:

I'm thankful for my growth. I'm glad I was willing to face my loneliness. I am still frustrated and processing a lot, but I am not where I used to be. I like myself and, pandemic aside, I like my life.

I no longer deal with the haters.

The statement above is a goodie I saw on twitter.

And I had to share another fabric pic... Meow! ;) 

💜

What Happened to My Friends Without Kids?

Okay, honestly, that is a rhetorical question, one I will answer at the end of this post. But I cannot count the number of times I asked myself this question while I was deep into the hardest years of my infertility. Sure, my friends with babies and kids had all moved on in their lives. While it hurt that they no longer made time for or seemed to remember me, it somewhat made sense.
But what happened to my friends without kids?

I am writing this post in case it helps anyone else that may be facing this issue.

In particular, I had two extremely close friends without kids: two women that I had been friends with for over ten years. One was married but didn't want kids. The other was single and not trying for kids. They both knew, from the time we had met, that having children was my lifelong dream.

During my darkest years, they were nowhere to be found.
I felt so lonely and, honestly, sorry for myself.

So, what happened? Why?

I kept asking myself these questions over and over. In retrospect, it's easy to think, well why didn't I ask THEM? But you all know, when you are deep in the throes of grief and trauma, you are not exactly in the best place to

1.  think clearly
2.  advocate for yourself
3.  confront issues
4.  have difficult conversations.

So, over time, I have become more compassionate with myself. Instead of questioning myself and thinking "I could have done this, I could have done that," I remind myself that I did the best I could at the time.

But damn it sucked to lose my closest friendships at the same time my lifelong dream of parenting was slipping away...

Now that I have a couple of years between those dark times and now, I have a better idea of what happened. I don't know if they are correct or not, but I came up with a few theories:

1. As women who had never unsuccessfully tried to get pregnant, they could not relate to my pain at all. Maybe they thought I was whiny? Or depressed without reason? Selfish for wanting kids in the first place? Maybe they honestly could not understand why I just "couldn't get over it?"
   
   
2. It is possible that jealousy played a factor. Maybe my single friend thought I should just appreciate what I did have- a loving marriage, and maybe my married friend thought the same- that I should just appreciate that I had a stable roof over my head.
   
   
3. Maybe it had nothing to do with infertility at all. Maybe both friendships had run their course and our lives were moving in different directions anyway. (Still sucks though, that two of my closest, longtime friends weren't/couldn't be there for me during the worst time of my life.)
   

But what I really and truly think was at the root of it all was that I had changed. Dramatically. A person cannot go through that level of loss and trauma without changing. I was no longer the woman that they had known. Instead of giving all of my energy to them (which I did, which was not their fault, those were choices that I had made), I had to reserve most of it for myself. Instead of driving to where they lived (thirty minutes for one, over an hour for the other), I stopped. I hoped they would come see me, but neither one of them ever did. Overall, I had completely changed the patterns in our friendship, so of course the relationships didn't work anymore. I thought the friendships were strong enough to survive these changes, but, unfortunately, they were not. 

I wasn't the same person anymore and that, apparently, changed everything.

I have often hinted on this blog that infertility taught me the boundaries I desperately needed in my life. For that, I am grateful. But, at times, it was almost too much loss at once for me to handle.

I continue to deal with loneliness on a regular basis, but blogging and "meeting" all of you has really helped. I try to socialize once a week. That is not always possible, but going back to school has helped. (Although I enjoy my classmates in their early 20s, I also really miss my peer group.) I am eating regularly, sleeping well, and exercising several times a week.  In other words, I am doing the best I can. I have never really been good at letting old friendships go, but I am dealing with it. I miss them and I wish them well.

And that is what happened between me and my friends without kids.

Never Give Up?

I am having a hard time letting this one go. Honestly, I am pissed. My last friend to get pregnant announced it on social media yesterday. Ok, whatever, she called me to tell me so I knew the announcement was coming...

But.

Ugh. I hated it. I hate how she announced it!!!

She posted a pic of a bunch of her needles in a heart shape (which I think is extremely personal and kind of gross but whatever I guess) surrounding a onesie that said something about things being worth the wait.

(Ok. A little weird, but people are entitled to their own choices.)

She wrote out ALL of their treatments, what all they had done and how many treatments failed.

(Ok, now we're definitely getting too far into Overshare Territory for my tastes, but, again, people can share what they choose to share.)

But, it's how she ended it that makes me want to scream and break things:
"For those struggling with infertility, I want to encourage you not to give up."

Oh really???

So, I gave up, huh?
What? I didn't want it bad enough?
I didn't try hard enough?
Did I not deserve it?
Or, let me guess, it just wasn't meant to be; things happen for a reason... UGH. GROSS.

Thankfully, I am super secure in my decision to stop treatments. As I've written before, they were killing my soul. I was a shell of a person. I was depressed and hollow and inactive and in a very very bad, very very dark spot. So, my former friend's comments don't make me question my decisions, but they do hurt my feelings.

Of course, she is not going to be thinking of me when she announces her pregnancy. Of course she is not going to be thinking about how her cry of "Never give up!" will affect the infertile women who will never get pregnant.

But why didn't she think of me?

She has been dealing with infertility for years. She came to me for advice about finding a doctor and what to expect with IVF and how to deal with failed treatments. We've been friends since high school. She knows how badly I always wanted to be a mother. Or, at least, I thought she did.

I'm having a hard time letting go of this one, but writing this post is helping. I HATE it when women who struggled to get pregnant suddenly seem to have amnesia about the whole experience once they get pregnant/have a baby.

I suppose, the worst part was that she was doing a gender reveal (I freaking hate those) live on social media at a certain time, so everyone could tune in and watch. Um, no thank you. So she's already gone. My friend who only just began her second trimester is lost to mommy madness already. I wish her well.

And for anyone else, in case you need a healthy reminder:
IT IS MORE THAN OKAY TO GIVE UP.

Double Standards

I promise not to make every post about school, but, real quick, here's another one. ;)

I've shared that school is intense, that it's a lot of work, that I'm exhausted, and that I have very little time to myself. Thank you for listening. I feel supported by you all and I greatly appreciate it.

Why can't I get this support in real life?

I have a friend I've been playing phone tag with. She calls and I'm busy, I call and she's busy. It's aggravating because a couple of things have happened in her life and we really want to catch up. But the current pace of modern life is just too damn busy. I'm pretty sure she's not impressed with me not being available like I used to be. Everyone is.

My complaint is that I get no understanding from anyone. Not from that friend. Not from other friends. Not from family.

The other day my mom got upset with me because I didn't come over when I said I was going to because I was tired and working on assignments. I was venting to my husband and he said, "I don't mean to add fuel to the fire but this probably wouldn't be happening if we had kids. If we had kids, we'd be doing all the kid things and no one would question our use of time."

He is so right!!!

So why do parents get all the benefits of doubt but other adults don't?

I know. Because people remember what it was like when they didn't have kids. When they were, I don't know, 22 and going to work and partying on the weekends and doing whatever they wanted. I want to scream from the mountaintops, "Not having children when you're 37 is ENTIRELY different than when you're 22!" People remember when they went to college. Sure, it was hard, but it was also fun. Again, I want to scream, "This program I'm in is not like college!!"

Last winter my family expected me to drive five hours for a day trip to celebrate the holidays. Yes, that's ten hours in the car for about 3 hours of family time. I said I was too tired. My mom said I could sleep in the car. I told her I wasn't 12 anymore and that sleeping in the car wasn't going to cut it. My dad said I can't expect my cousins to travel because it's too hard traveling with little kids. I said I wasn't coming. Instead, I basically slept for three days.

Maybe if my life looked like everyone else's I would get more credit.

Honoring My Sadness

It has happened again.
Another friend is pregnant.
Complete with a cute photograph shared on social media and accompanied by 500+ "Likes."

Again, I am happy for her. I really, truly am. This woman is a special person who makes everyone she meets feel good. She has struggled to get pregnant for years and has had many surgeries to make her body hospitable to pregnancy.

But.
But...

I lost it.

I hadn't cried over an announcement in a seemingly long time. I have begun to realize that other people's lives are separate from mine, that I've got my own thing going on and I am moving on. But this announcement still made me sad for myself.

Why does IVF work for other people but it didn't work for me???

I am proud of myself. I didn't read the comments. I knew they would hurt me.
Lots of:
-No one deserves it more than you
-God has blessed you with life's most precious gift
-Welcome to motherhood, it's the greatest thing ever
and more comments of that nature, I'm sure.

I am happy for her, but it's another lost friendship for me. For us. Her husband was one of my husband's closest friends. Our lives are going in different directions now. We won't see them for at least six months, because I don't like to hang out with pregnant women. And my husband said he doubts we will ever hang out with them again. They have a ton of friends and they all have children. Our lives don't match anymore.

For the first time, my husband got what I call a "fishing" text, though he didn't realize it at the time. I have received lots of these over the years. The kind of text where the person feels you out, sees what you're up to, and how you are doing, especially with regard to the whole baby situation. We had already shared with them that we were done trying and we thought maybe they were coming to the end too. Turns out she was pregnant and they wanted to see where we were with the whole topic... He didn't say anything, but, in retrospect, I think my husband felt a little weird about the text. Or maybe I'm projecting. I always feel weird, a little pitied, after receiving those fishing-type texts.

So, anyway, I cried. A lot. At first it was just a little. A few tears silently streamed down my face. But that wasn't enough. I could feel it deep down throughout my whole body, so I just gave in and had a really good cry about it.

I felt dumb for crying. (Geez, will the self-judgment ever end??) I thought, I've come so far in my healing. Why am I upset? This woman is awesome and her pregnancy has nothing to do with me. Why, after all these years, am I crying about her announcement?

I texted my best friend. I said, "I hope one day other people's pregnancy announcements don't affect me. I'm happy for this most recent couple but I get jealous that IVF worked for them but not for me." And my best friend, my wise, loving, inspiring, and beautiful best friend, wrote back: "I think that's fair!" I told her I had been crying and she said: "Okay, I'm being serious- why wouldn't you? What 'honor' is there in not being sad?"

Wow. I had never thought about it like that before. Honoring my sadness. She is so right. Of course, I don't have to be happy all the time. I already knew that. But honoring my sadness? Yes! That is so valid and necessary. I love her. I loved her comments to me. I continued to cry, but this time I didn't judge myself. I let the tears flow. I felt sad for my children that didn't get to be here and that I didn't get to raise. And I honored that sadness by expressing it instead of ignoring it or judging it.

Grieving is not a linear process. And losing my children to infertility is a lifelong loss. So I will continue to feel sadness at different points throughout my life. And I will honor my sadness when it surfaces.

A Weird Ending to a Friendship

I'm on Spring Break, which is something I never thought I would experience as a student again. But, here I am in my late 30s with a week off from life. Of course, life never really stops, so I'm trying to use my time wisely. Go to the doctor, take the car in, meet a friend for lunch... I'm thankful for this time, but I am also pretty bored. I'm in a better head space than I was over winter break and last summer and the years preceding going back to school. But honestly, I still need to stay busy. Having a lot of free time to myself, I am still letting my mind wander a little too much... Which brings me to today's post.

I apologize if I've written about this before. I think sometimes I repeat myself here on this blog (and definitely in real life- just ask my husband hahaha), but I'm what I call a "verbal processor" so sometimes it takes me a couple of times of rehashing something before I'm able to glean some helpful points and then do my best to let it go. (Side note: I think that's the first time in my life that I've ever used the word "glean.")

So, here we go!

I had this awesome friend. (Uh oh, past tense. So you can see where this is headed...)

She was so, so awesome. She always told me, even years before I ever started trying to conceive, that I was going to be the best mom. She was a mom herself, loved the role and her daughter so much. We daydreamed about us both being parents and raising our kids together. In fact, we were hoping she would get pregnant with her second the same time I got pregnant with my first. But you know how life goes... Instead, she got divorced and I learned I was infertile.

Still, we supported each other. We made time for each other. We really had a lot of fun just sitting and talking in each other's backyards. It's the simple things that really are the greatest.

After I had been trying for a couple of years she gently encouraged me to see a doctor. Then when I decided to try fertility treatments, she was my biggest cheerleader. It was such a difficult time for me. I was so raw and wounded and profoundly sad. I didn't tell anyone about my treatments because I didn't have the strength to deal with people's well-intentioned, yet incredibly insensitive and often hurtful, comments. But I told her. I trusted her. And she was the awesome friend I needed at that time. I will always be thankful for that.

Well, as we all know, the fertility treatments did not result in pregnancy for me. I don't like to say they failed, because I got to go through all the steps. I got to try the treatments, my follicles grew, we gathered a couple of eggs, they fertilized, and we were able to return them inside of me. But I've never been pregnant.

It's weird. I knew a lot of people couldn't support someone who is infertile. Either they don't know how or my reality made them too uncomfortable or they were busy with their own lives, I don't know. But support for someone going through infertility is extremely rare. This friend I'm telling you about was a gem.

But what I didn't know was that some people can't support you once you somewhat realize you can't have children. And this friend was like that. She could rally for me all day long as I tried and tried treatments and tried acupuncture and diet changes and vitamins and supplements, but it was beyond her capacity to support me as a woman who was not going to be a mother.

She and I tried. After all of my unsuccessful fertility treatments, my husband and I (well, really, me, my husband was getting over the whole thing by this point, but he kept going for my sake) kept trying the good old fashioned way for another year and a half. I thought maybe he and I would be one of those couples that got pregnant years later after everything else didn't work. My friend remained hopeful and optimistic. But I never got pregnant.

That's when things got weird. I wasn't pregnant and there was nothing I could do about it. I was grieving and it was extremely difficult for me. I was reading blogs written by women who were living life after infertility and I started thinking about what my life would be like if I never became a mother.

I guess that's where her support ended. It really took me by surprise. Here was the one friend who I felt had stood by me through everything and now this friendship was fading too. And then I got my feelings hurt. We were out having a couple of beers on a gorgeous day when she was sharing with me how upset she was that she only had one child. I never thought about it before, but all of her friends had two or more kids. I said something along the lines of, "Huh, you *are* the only person you know with an only child." And she replied, "Yes, it's hard. But then I think of you and remember it could always be worse."

Ouch.

Damn.

Wow.

Uh... I didn't even know what to say to that. I don't remember what I said to that. But it stung. Bad.

My life is so much worse? Well, dang, why don't I just give up now??

In that same afternoon she was encouraging me to pursue adoption. But then she followed it by saying she could never love an adopted child as much as she loved her "own" daughter, that it was important for her to carry the child to develop that maternal bond.

Again...  Uh... Okay...

Like I said, it got weird. I don't even know.

I continued the friendship for a little while longer, even though part of me deep down knew it wasn't working anymore. Our visits got less and less frequent. I noticed on social media that she only hung out with other moms. And once I stoppped reaching out every month or so, I just never heard from her.

So. Weird.

I will always be grateful for her support during the darkest time in my life. I wish we were still friends like we used to be. But, life has weird ways of changing. I am not a mother, I am not pursuing motherhood, and my former friend and I have grown apart.

I wish this was the only friendship that has faded away during my struggle with infertility, but, unfortunately, there are many. But this is the only friendship that faded away in this manner.

I don't even know how to end this post. I have no closing words, other than that situation took me by surprise and the whole thing was very weird. I wish her well.

Friends

It's so nice to have friends again.

Infertility was devastating enough, but to feel like I was losing the majority of my friendships took it to another level. I was so hurt, sad, and lonely.

I understand that, when going through infertility, friendships with people who have children will change. They just don't get it and it's not really their fault. They are busy with play dates and birthday parties, and I just wasn't on their radar screen anymore. But it still hurt.

There was one friend, a very very close friend. I went to her baby shower. I went to her kid's birthday parties from age one to five. I confided in her during my IVFs. She knew, or I thought she knew, how important her kid was to me. I was looking forward to her kid's sixth birthday, bought a couple of presents and everything. Then I saw pictures of the birthday party on social media. I wasn't invited. Because I wasn't a mom. Crushed was an understatement. My husband stays pretty rational in these situations and, although he's not one to talk and talk and overanalyze with me, he indulged me a bit on this one. He said that while my friend cares about me, she just doesn't think about me. It would be different if I had a kid. It would probably even be different if we lived closer. (We live almost an hour apart.) He's probably right. But it still hurt. So, instead of mailing the birthday presents, I used the toys and games I had bought with the underprivileged elementary school students I was volunteering with. That was probably better anyway. Those kids got to enjoy some brand new things, and I got to enjoy it all with them.

So, of course things changed between me and my friends with children.

What I really didn't expect was for things to change between me and my friends without children. Two of my longtime best friends weren't trying for kids. You'd think they would be good friends to have, right? I did anyway. But they could not relate to me and my intense desire to get pregnant and have a baby. The texts became fewer, we saw each other less and less, and the distance grew. I honestly still don't fully understand it.

But overall, I'm not surprised that every relationship in my life has changed. You don't go through trauma and emerge the same person. The best takeaway I have from my experience with infertility is better boundaries. So maybe it was time for some of my friendships to come to an end. I couldn't be who I'd always been for those people because I wasn't that same person anymore.

No longer having these significant friendships left a lot of empty space in my life, empty space that I was not rushing to fill. Good, healthy friendships take time and I was okay with that. Besides, my counselor mentioned I was about to go back to school and meet a lot of new people. Thankfully, she was right. I have made several new friends in this program and I am really loving it. In fact, it is probably my favorite part of the program: my new friendships.

My husband and I like to go out for a couple of drinks and some dinner on Friday nights. We spend a lot of time together and are always caught up on each other's life, so we don't mind if we text other people while we are hanging out. I was texting a lot this past Friday. Joking around with one new friend from school. Talking about assignments and projects with a couple of others. I looked up and told him, "I'm so happy I have friends again." He just laughed and said, "I noticed."

I am such a social person, though I am much more introverted now when before I was a total extrovert. It was so hard to go through that major transition in friendships, but that's life. That's how it goes. I'm glad I didn't get bitter and I'm glad I've met some new people and we all make each other laugh so much.

Who knows what the future holds. I plan on relocating after graduation and I don't know anyone where I am planning to go. But I will get a job and I have interests and hobbies and will eventually meet people. Life is unpredictable. And it's much more fun with friends. :)

When Someone Else goes through Treatment

How do I respond when someone I know is going through fertility treatments?

It feels kind of awkward.

On one hand I want to say, "Good luck!" but on the other hand I don't want to be the reminder that sometimes (or, as we all know- often) it doesn't work out.

A wife of one of my husband's good friends is going through treatment right now. She posted about it on facebook and asked for prayers. The comments were hard for me to read. They ranged from "You got this! You deserve it!" to " God is good. He will bless your family." to "I know it's hard but it is worth it. Having children is the most rewarding thing in life."

And I have... Lots of thoughts about all of those comments.

But I will keep those thoughts to myself, not share them with my friend obviously.

But I think people have the misconception that fertility treatments work. Often, if not all the time. And we know that they work... Rarely.

So I would like to support her, but I don't know how. Then again, I probably can't support her right now. Last year one of my best friends was going through IVF. I told her that I loved her very much and wished her the best but I wasn't able to be the friend to her that I wanted to be at that time, that I still needed space from the world of fertility treatments. Spoiler: She didn't get pregnant. :(

And I am probably still there. I just can't hear about the appointments and the medications and the procedures and the updates. I'm not there yet. And it's not really a goal of mine to ever get there. If it happens, it happens. But I'm not really concerned about it.

But the most awkward part is that I feel like I am the reminder nobody wants, that you can try everything and still not get pregnant. So I don't even know if any good wishes from me would be welcome or well received. (Well, she is a pretty amazing person, so she would probably accept my sentiments lovingly and sincerely. But others? I'm not so sure...)

I am definitely hoping for the best for her. I guess I will do it from a distance.

Changed Relationships

Here's a topic that I will probably write a lot about. So this is kind of like an introductory post. But, again, if I waited until I had it all written perfectly, that would be never. There's so much to say so I might as well get started.

Changed relationships.

Sigh...

I had no idea my experience with infertility was going to change every single one of my relationships.

In retrospect, I understand that you don't go through trauma and emerge the same person, so of course it seems obvious to me now that all of my relationships would change.

But for years, while I was going through it, I was so hurt and confused. And lonely. Very, very lonely. Not only was I grieving the loss of a dream every month, but I was grieving the loss of my relationships as I knew them.

It's easy to be friends with someone when they live or work nearby, when their life is going well and they have lots of warmth and energy to give, when they are asking nothing from you in return, and when they are available for whatever you need.

I know, true friends will always be there. But, the fact of the matter is, between work schedules, traffic patterns, and the demands of living an adult life, convenience is a factor that plays into friendships.  Plus, it's always good to have things in common or to be in a similar place in life, and most people either have kids or aren't trying to have them. Not many people live in infertility limbo land. They just get pregnant and have a baby.

And it's not just friendships; relationships among my family members changed too. There is so much I can say on this whole topic of changed relationships that I know I will just ramble about it every now and then. Needless to say, it was one of the hardest parts of infertility for me. Aside from not becoming a mom.

Every single relationship in my life either got stronger or faded away. Fortunately, my marriage got stronger.  And two friends in particular stand out as awesome supports. They were always available for my true self (even if one of them lives in another state), and they both always allowed my sadness yet also succeeded in making me laugh. I started seeing a counselor, which was immensely helpful, and she told me that having three strong people to count on in time of crisis was actually a lot. So I am very, very thankful.

I still miss a lot of my old friends, but I wish everyone well.

I am now busy rebuilding my own life and that is a good use of my energy.

Life is hard. Life is beautiful. Life goes on.

Until the next time I ramble... Be compassionate to yourself and take care.  -L