10.14.2005

And so it goes...

I read a lot of infertility journals. I feel connected to these people in some way. They share a glimpse of their sorrow and their lives with me and I feel privileged. I empathize deeply with these women, with their situations. I however, am not infertile. I have gone through IVF though, and this makes me feel as if I have a small (albeit insignificant) connection to them.

I have two teenage daughters from a marriage long, long ago. While their father and I have joint custody of them, I do not see them as often as I would like. For reasons that are difficult to explain in less than 5 bazillion words, they spend more time with their dad. When they are not with me I miss them so much that my bones hurt. They are my world. They make me smile, laugh out loud, re-assess my beliefs. Those girls give me hope and fill my life with more love and enjoyment than I ever imagined possible. My eyes tear and my toes curl just thinking of them at this moment. Does this mean that I don’t complain about them? Hell no. I complain a lot. Welcome to me. This is what I do – ask anyone that knows me. I am quite good at it too.

I don’t know why I wanted children all those years ago. I guess I wanted to be grown up. I think I wanted a family – something I never really had growing up. I wanted to be part of something bigger than just me. I wanted to be a positive influence in someone’s life. I wanted to show someone how much I could love them – and I didn’t want to be judged. I wanted to be a mom and I never imagined that my marriage would end and I would have to share that role with someone else. I never dreamed that I would miss ½ or more of my girls' lives…

I also have two 4-month-old little boys. The decision to have more children was not one that came easily to us. My husband and I wanted children together. We wanted to raise a family together – it was a way for us to become even closer than we were. It was the chance he was missing out on to raise babies. He has been a fantastic dad to the girls, and he really wanted the chance to be part of another person’s full life. I wanted him to have that chance. I wanted another chance to have the family I dreamed of as a little girl. I wanted children that I could be a full-time mom to – not just weekends and holidays.

I now have the family that I always wanted. I drown my children in hugs and kisses and sweet words every moment that I can. The process of having my boys was not an easy one. IVF / infertility / adoption – they are all difficult experiences. I was one of the lucky ones. I ended up with a second chance. I ended up with children. And I am grateful for every second that we have together as a family. And at the same time my heart breaks for the women out there that are still trying.

I think that I read many of the infertility journals because I know how hard it is to want something you have no control over. I like seeing the drive, the motivation, the emotion that these women display. I gather strength from their strength and I am reminded how lucky I am in my life. I don’t feel as if I have much to offer them in return…and I am certain that very few ever wander over here for a read. Mine is not the life that they want to read about right now. But I support them. I feel for them. I listen to them. I never offer advise or judge them. I don’t make evil comments about their choices or desires or decisions… it just doesn’t seem to be the best way to make someone feel good or to encourage them to continue their quest for a family. I understand their anger toward people that are easily able to have children. The anger isn’t exactly AT the people so much as the situation – but either way there is anger and hate and frustration - and it is very much understood.

All of this rambling amounts to a few small things:

- I love my children

- I am lucky to have them

- I wish that every single person in the world that wanted a baby could have one without going through infertility and all of the shit that is involved

- Comments in journals should be treated like comments in real life: If you don’t have anything nice to say, shut the fuck up.