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Mollie

Here's some nonspecified hope that is only staked to your eventual happiness. I have no trouble at all giving you loads and loads and loads of that.

I know EXACTLY what you mean about other people saying, "I know you'll get pregnant someday!!" and think it's just what you want to hear. I know what it's like to want to deck the person who says that, or at least just explode with frustration and shame and sadness.

No one knows what will or won't happen! What I'd like to think is that you will find peace and happiness, maybe not in the form you originally envisioned, not in the neat 'n tidy hop-skip-n-jump from point A to point B, but that you will find it.

I celebrate with you that you are alive, and grateful, and feeling things but not ill with feelings (that's how I thought of my own CD). Pain is a gift, and emerging through rough patches and despair. I really feel connected to you when you write about this stuff, Jo. I, too, am hugely rageful sometimes, and in the midst of a private outburst, think, "oh, how many people that I know would just FREAK if they saw me doing this??"

All of these struggles, by the way, do not disappear when the baby finally makes the scene. Oh no. No no. In fact, get ready for some of the most harrowing confrontations with your darkest self. A child just crystallizes certain things. In a way, they make it easier to sort through the shit, if you're open to it. Of course, having the kid also really helps you get in touch with the simple joys and pleasures, too. The volume knob on the whole life experience gets ratcheted up, in my experience.

So, dearest Jo, thank you for writing this. I feel a little less alone.

Jo

Ah. Mollie, I was feeling totally freaked out about this post, oh god the darkness, so exposed, and won't they all run away? And your comment, oh, like aloe on a sunburn. So, you're welcome. And thank *you*.

I feel I am in very good company.

gretchenosis

um, cranky email indeed. sheesh.
but seriously...
this might sound totally fucked up, but i'll chance it: it isn't sympathy i have for you. that sounds too "aw, poor jo! i know it's hard, but it'll be okay!" sure, i feel sad that you go through any sadness or loss at all, small or large, but never in my mind have i just wished you could come about your happiness in a standard, "normal" way. there are things in your life that HAVE come that way. on the contrary, that you WILL have a baby has nothing to do with how you get it, and going about it in a way other than what is expected and doing so with your middle finger aimed at those who can't rap their little minds around this is what makes you such a fucking badass. while this whole thing has been rough and shitty at times, i have confidence in your ability to come out even better/stronger than before. that's what i DO know for sure. it's something this family can do quite well, at least you and me. so keep the middle finger up and have no shame...you ain't gots nothing to be ashamed of. and this is a quality you will pass on to your children fo sho.

Julia

Hey, I got all kinds of unspecified hope for you, woman. Yea verily, joy even.

A short story to demonstrate your not-alone-ness:
When I called my RE today, I got mad at the first nurse for not offering any measly "congrats" on my pregnancy test. Then, when I spoke to a different nurse later in the day, I was equally irked at her overly-happy "congrats" because, hey - don't jinx me, bitch!

Ah, Jo, we love you so. Especially when you're crabby and bitchy. :)

Tertia

Yes yes yes (thats not me having an orgasm).

I totally, utterly, 100% agree with every thing you are saying. I could have written this. It is exactly how I feel. I could write pages and pages on this.

There are several sucky parts of IF, but a few of the hardest parts are feeling like you have let every one down. I always feel a hurt shared is not a hurt halved, but rather a hurt multiplied. I hate that my family and friends have to hurt for me over and over again. I hate that I disappoint them, I hate that I am a fuck up.

But the hardest part for me to deal with was the anger, the over whelming, all encompassing rage I felt at the world, at my infertility, at my self, at fertile people, at life, at no one and every one. The anger was like a black oily monster that lived in my chest and threatened to consume me. It lived there always. Sometimes it would be manageable, but always there. And then sometimes someone would say something, perfectly innocently, and the anger monster would swell up and nearly choke me. I could hardly breath. More than the sadness or pain, it was the anger that nearly broke me.

It was the anger that sent me to therapy (which didn't really work) and put me on anti depressants. What a life saver!!! The AD's made that monster so much smaller. It was still there, but no longer filled my chest cavity and threatened to take my breath away. Its just smaller. I know they don't work for every one, but they sure as hell worked for me.

I don't know what the point of my comment is. Just I suppose to say that I know exactly how you feel, that I have been there. This is the time to look after you, and not care what any one else thinks or what the 'right' thing to do is. Do whatever protects your own fragile soul and sanity. And retreat into that cave as often as you need to. I go there a lot, I need to, or else I will either kill myself or someone around me.

Much love to you

xxx

OliviaDrab

Even in your crankiness, the love is still yours. And dammit, I still have hope for you that you will have a baby one day, in whatever form of packing it may come, whether you want the hope or not. You can put in the Hope Bank and Trust and use it for whatever the hell you want, but it is there, at your disposal.

But I do understand what you mean. I used to grow into a rage when someone would give me the all-knowing "It'll happen *wink wink*" as if they are some f'ing sage or something. Even now, when people tell me not to worry because this pregnancy will be fine I want to scream "HOW THE F DO YOU KNOW???!!" It feels like if I don't do well, I will be letting down their ready-made future-telling fortune and that's just too much pressure.

Love you Jo.

Lisa

Ah Jo, can I share your cave? I too could have written this (although with less coherence and insight). Part of why I've been so mum on the topic of my infertility to people outside the computer is because I can't be a sympathy sponge even for people with the best intentions--the knowing looks, the kind glances, the well meaning hugs make me want to yak.

Julie

Dear Jo,

In many ways I'm like you. (Not, alas, in the coolest ways -- in those, you are an original.) One of those ways is that I can't handle sympathy. I crumple at the first hint of kindness. So I minimize my own feelings, prettying them up a bit, wrapping them in a jaunty bow, and writing an uproarious joke on the tag. I figure if people are laughing, they'll be too breathless to make me cry with their well-meant comfort.

And I hide, too, when I'm down, or even when I'm simply turbulent, like I've been for the last week or so. This past week was so bad I even hid from my blog, afraid that my fragile feelings would end up getting trampled beneath the hopes of others -- again, well-meant hopes, loving hopes, but hopes I wasn't sure I could fulfill.

From reading your post and these comments, I see that such feelings are pretty much universal among our barren blogging crew. It's an unending relief to be surrounded by people who understand. I hope you feel some of that, too. We're right in there with you, leaving tasty casseroles on the doorstep of your cave, ready to love up on you when you want it, and stay the hell away when you don't.


Love,
Glen or Glenda

P.S. What was UP with those stampeding buffalo, anyway?

jen

God, yes, I totally understand. I'm sitting here hurt, on one hand, because my pregnant co-worker didn't tell me personally she was pregnant (she already has a 10-month-old at home, and before her first we used to swap TTC stories) -- what, does she think I can't handle the news, and offer a sincere congratulations? And on the other hand, hurt because other people aren't being observant enough to realize that I so don't want to hear about it. Oy. And I totally want to deck my family members everytime one of them offers a sympathetic shoulder pat and a "hang in there." Thank god there are people out here who get this dichotomy and don't think it makes me a freak.

getupgrrl

Yeah, what you said. And you're right - although we all know that you'll be a mother, no one can really know how that will happen. But the fact that it *will* happen is cause enough for celebration.

I lurve you.

jilbur

Oh hey, so that's why you were acting like we just met last week! *wipes brow*
I wuv you no matter what. I'll stick by you no matter what.
And that is all. shoshoshhhhhhh

Ellen

Like everyone else, I truly identify with this post. Not telling people what I am going through and suffering alone is painful, but at the same time, I rather wish I hadn't told anyone. Hearing someone say, "Oh don't worry. I KNOW that you'll have a baby" does not make me feel better, because it's presuming a lot.

I know that people care, but they do not understand.

Mamarama

Funny, I was thinking about you after we last talked and you did seem different, much as Jilbur described. I wish that I could do what you need as much as you have for me, but sometimes, I just don't know what you need. I adore you, and want only for you to be the happiest Jo in the universe...tell me to shut up, tell me what you need, tell me whatever, or don't tell me anything, if that's what you require. Know this, though, I am here.

Kristine

Jo you definitely hit on a topic that many of us can relate to. Even this weekend when I had the scare of a miscarriage at my parent's house I just couldn't get out of there fast enough. I like what you said about the growing spikes because that's exactly how I feel. I just need some space. But then I feel guilty for shutting my family out.
Despite you thinking that you were making yourself vulnerable, you were just showing us, once again, how very strong you are!
You're my hero. Really, you are.

Mandy

From one cyster to another.....you said that SO well.

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