Yesterday, someone asked me what the worst part about “all this stuff” is. My immediate thought was that it’s all a nightmare. And it is. But it got me thinking about what really is the hardest part about infertility.
Is the worst part the physical aspect? The shots and hormones and invasive procedures? Going to the doctor every other day and being poked and prodded— the physical pain and the way your body just feels gross and heavy all the time?
Or is the worst part the emotional turmoil? The obsessive thoughts about whether the next thing will or won’t work. The torture of the two week wait and the heartbreak of a pregnancy loss or of an unsuccessful cycle. Perhaps it’s having to come to terms with the loss of genetics or of being able to carry. The emotional parts of all this are so intense and anxiety provoking. It can take perfectly sane people and make them bananas!
Perhaps the worst part is the relational aspect. The deterioration of certain relationships and the feeling of isolation as you drift farther and father away from fertile friends who have difficulty relating to you. Is it the stress between you and your partner or family, and the moments where you feel unrecognizable to even yourself. Your relationship with yourself can suffer too.
Is it the financial parts? The idea of spending tens of thousands of dollars for uncomfortable treatments you don’t want to have to do, with the knowledge that you only have a slight chance of anything working? Is it the limitations the financial constraints put on your life?
It’s all of thee above, but for me, I think the hardest part was not knowing when or if or how we were going to become parents. If someone would have told me it would take close to five years and tens of thousands of dollars and hundreds of shots and bags of medication to finally end up with Momo, I think I would have been able to handle it better. I think I would have had a clear end in sight and the confidence that what we were doing wasn’t for nothing. That’s the hardest part in my opinion—cycling through the insanity with no end in sight.
No one can tell you how or when it will end or how or when you will find your baby. But what I have learned is that if you are open about it all, there are many ways to become a parent. Sometimes you just have to keep on trucking.
Sending lots of love and luck to everyone still searching.
Also— Resolve’s Advocacy is coming up May 14. Please click on this link to fill out a letter that will go to congress to advocate for legislation to support infertility and building families in alternative ways.
I thought that peseverance would pay off. After 27 cycles, 3 chemical pregnancies and one miscarriage I cannot see this working. All these were genetically normal tested embryos. No explanations and all medical interventions could not find anything wrong. Its so unfair that throughout this journey I have seen friends who are obese have 3 children each, one fall pregnant whilst on the pill, another fall pregnant at 40 from a one night stand, and one who had a gealthy babt girl with a first beta of 6!!! What am I doing wrong.... except do everything that science has provided to give the best chance if pregnancy but Im the only one that cannot fall pregnant wtf???
Posted by: Pam | February 24, 2017 at 03:05 AM
A little late to this party, but the relationship piece is very hard. And trying to be supportive as a partner or spouse is difficult because it's oftentimes like we've not been sensitized to it, and so we fail to be sensitive. At one point it seemed natural while going to the park or mall and seeing what seems like every woman pregnant. Jokes quickly become unfunny and damaging, so as Maya said, yeah - it's always important to be reminded.
Posted by: Mike | December 19, 2015 at 12:21 PM
I'm so glad I found this sight. Today marked the end of a failed IUI cycle. 5 months ago we went through a failed adoption. 1 month ago I got laid off and lost my insurance. 2 weeks ago we moved out of state. 2 months ago I had surgery for endometrosis. 1 month ago I was diagnosed with skin cancer (it's not life threatening) I thought for sure this cycle would work because after loosing so very much this year and barely hanging on to hope through 6 years of trying to conceive I was convinced completely that God had a plan for us and all this change and loss was only to prepare us for the ultimate blessing of a child. That is the worst part for me, how it has changed my relationship to God, and my belief in miracles and prayer.
Posted by: Maggie | July 13, 2015 at 10:52 PM
Hi Camrynn-- I so agree with you and just want to say you are truly an IF warrior. I hope you get out of the nightmare soon.
Posted by: Don't Count Your Eggs | May 24, 2015 at 08:36 PM
The hardest part for me is the same as yours. Not knowing when this nightmare will end. Not knowing if and when it will all end. Not knowing if my worst fear will be realised: dying childless. The physical challenges I have faced enduring 6 IUI and 5 IVF are nothing - probably less than 1% - of the total pain my husband and I have suffered in our agonising 'path' toward becoming parents. All of it is so painful: feeling broken, feeling robbed, feeling confused - but the worst is just wondering if the torture will last forever.
Posted by: Camryn | May 23, 2015 at 06:53 AM
Thanks for sharing Maryann and C. There are so many awful parts-- being kicked out of the club, not being able to get into the club-- all the insensitive comments... it all sucks. I send a lot of love to you both and hope your babies find you soon.
Posted by: OneMoreShotDoc | May 14, 2015 at 08:54 PM
The wporse is that every day things change.
I had 9 eggs out of which only 3 got retrieved and out of which only 2 matured. I became so desensitized that I almost expect that the " other shoe" will drop. And while we are going through all this hell we am being bombarded by new pregnancy news, showers, baptism and every moment reminder of what we are missing so deeply from our lives. I already gave up on genetics it is not important anymore. The dream is to be a parent but now the hardest thing will be to figure out where we could possibly get the embryo donated from. The hardest is that every single breathing moment of my day thats all what I am thinking about. I can't google anymore I think I googled my brain out from" miscarriage" to "where to find embryo" to " pain of infertility". Nothing ever prepared me for this. And while I suffer each passing day I have to keep smiley facade as no one really cares. Otherwise they wouldn't say.. Just travel or just adopt....
Posted by: Maryann | May 13, 2015 at 03:50 PM
As someone with secondary infertility I think a bad part is feeling kicked out of the club. I got pregnant so easily and became a SAHM (for lack of better term). Babies and mothering were my life and my friends were all mothers. (I never planned on that, in fact I planned to return to work, but biology and the desire to mother fully took over in a way.) But suddenly we couldn't get pregnant with another and the news kept getting worse and worse with each treatment. Meanwhile my mommy friends who had babies with my baby were having another then another. Even though I knew I was still a mother I no longer had a baby and seeing the other mothers breastfeeding their younger ones at play dates hurt so much, I had to stop going. I was not in the club anymore. I was now on IF island.
There is this feeling of jealousy when other moms get pregnant again because they have what I can't have, and I hate it. It's just different because I took it for granted that I could have as many as I wanted. So while I don't wonder like you did if I will be a mother, thank God, it is hard to accept you can't do what you did once: get pregnant naturally and birth a child.
Posted by: C | May 12, 2015 at 02:13 PM
Thanks for sharing ladies. You're right that its all a nightmare and that relationships really suffer. It's so hard to feel so isolated and misunderstood-- and to feel constant heartbreak and resentment towards others getting their ticket off the Island. I think all these feelings--unfortunately--are really normal. So is the unsolicited unhelpful advice. Best to ignore for sure.
Posted by: Don't Count Your Eggs | May 11, 2015 at 06:39 PM
Maya, its is all indeed a nightmare and perhaps the word nightmare doesn't even cover it well. It just seems so unfair and I so totally agree with Maryann's comments on insensitive comments by friends and family. My husband and I never shared our struggles but still that dis not prevent close family members from advising out of the blue, including "its time you saw a doctor". Like we would need to be pushed to see a doctor or if we would announce it to the whole world. The fact of the matter is people who do not go through infertility can never understand how stressful it is. Advices on just adopt and IVF are even more maddening. They do not have a clue as to what goes into IVF but would not stop them nevertheless on free consultations. Letting go of your genetics, and adoption is such a process to come to terms with but of only they understood. Although 23 weeks pregnant today, I'm unsure if I'll be able to overcome the heartache that we went through since August 2011. Infertility is all we thought these 4 years. Our vacations were intended to overcome the grief of unsuccessful cycles. I wish there were guarantees in the process but sadly there are none. How I wish and pray that all on the infertility island emerge out of the island with a baby.
Posted by: Anita | May 09, 2015 at 08:33 AM
The worse is the feeling of isolation and how it changed so many relationships in my life for worse. The hardest are the comments type "just relax" , "go on vacation" and pure ignorance. I gave up on sharing anything.
The hardest is how it makes me feel and how resentful I became. The worse are comments that We can't have all what we want in life (meaning a baby) coming from those who have kids themselves and we have none.
The worse are the family gatherings and awkward avoidance of the infertility topic as I am the only one on this island among them. I could go on and on. The worse is the pain I feel and can't even express as no one wants to acknowledge it as it is more convenient.
After 5 sessions- 3 iui, 2 ivf, 1 chemical pregnancy and 1 miscarriage at 8 weeks we just pray for a true miracle. But I know that nothing is promised on this journey so every living moment of my day I doing my possible best to come up with idea how this miracle baby will come to us.
Posted by: Maryann | May 08, 2015 at 07:34 PM
Maya,
Thank you so much for this blog. I came across it a few months ago when we had gotten yet more bad news with a cancelled IUI cycle. It has been so helpful. Like you, I also have diminished ovarian reserve. I have an undetectable AMH and an FSH that is intermittently in the stratosphere. And I'm also an ob-gyn, so I can't exactly hide from pregnant women and babies. And we have severe male factor infertility -- quite the reproductive power couple. You have pretty much summed up all of what's hard in this. The isolation is terrible, and it's hard to commiserate with people who are going through it, because at any moment their cycle could work and they could be on the other side experiencing all kinds of pregnancy and baby joy that makes those of us still stuck on the island cringe. Case in point: at my embryo transfer, I ran into my neighbor who was having her egg retrieval. Her cycle was successful; mine was not. Awesome. She is now off the island for good; I am stuck here indefinitely.
I agree with you that the uncertainty is even worse than the isolation. If someone could just tell me, you have to go through X years of sh*t, X number of failed cycles, but after that, you'll get your kid, I'd sign up in a heartbeat and maybe be able to share in my neighbor's happiness a little better (or at all).
Thank you so much for your perspective and for not forgetting those of us still marooned on the island.
Posted by: Meg | May 08, 2015 at 02:18 PM