Wednesday, October 8, 2008

High School Reunion

Infertility gets old. One year into "active" infertility, which I define as seeking pregnancy with the assistance of at least three medical personnel at any one time and culminating in the insertion of a catheter, I find that I'm tired, oh so tired, of the subject of infertility. E2 levels and linings and number of follicles. The hope, the plunging defeat. And God love all of you who are just starting out, but I'm tired too of the "I just know the first one will work"optimism of the newly actives. The excitement and fear when the first huge box of meds arrives. The sense of accomplishment with the first successful shot. Give me a puppy to kick.

Infertility drives home the adage that too much of anything is never a good thing. I remember vividly, painfully my first love. I was 16, he was 18. He was the kind of boy your mother warned you about and the warning was delicious. He was often at arms length, sometimes tantalizingly close, but never mine. I was painfully, hopelessly smitten and he broke my heart. It took me years to get over him. Years to realize that the challenge, the "just this much out of my grasp" was the real appeal, not the boy. At that age, I didn't, couldn't, fully see the damage I was doing to myself in my relentless focus on something I couldn't control. We know, don't we, that the only thing you really lose is yourself.

Infertility is a lot like my first love. A lot, but not quite.

Unlike with my first love, my goal here isn't simply to win the challenge, cross the finish line, collect $200, ha, I showed you, fate! (Although yes, it does piss me off that I can't accomplish something I've worked so hard for, but that's another post.) The similarity is what happens when you lose yourself.

Infertility. Heartbreak. Desire. You set your sights on something and you work like hell to reach the outcome. Sometimes the desired result is firmly outside of your grasp, other times it's a whisper of a maybe; you can feel the possibility in you. Then it's gone. Leaving the inevitable "why can't it be me" or "what did I do wrong?" For some of us, the weeks turn into months and the months turn into a year and you find yourself sorting through the cupboard of your heart wondering what's missing. What part of you have you neglected in your pursuit of something over which you have absolutely no control?

I can offer no poignant or even insightful conclusions here. Just a dawning certitude that I've been neglectful of me. My unyielding focus on an outcome has crowded out some of the Melanieness that I need to feel whole. And balanced. And, well, sane. Ok, and not a bitch.

And by the way, I saw my first love again several years ago.

He was so not worthy of me.

7 comments:

JJ said...

Incredibly poignant...the emotions are quite similar.
And I have no doubt he wasnt worthy of you...

luna said...

this is such a perfect post, so true in every way. that realization of where is my life going as I chase in pursuit of the unreachable. and especially the part of him not being worthy of you.

Evil Stepmonster said...

So so true. I wonder, if we're unsuccessful in this 'pursuit', if we'll look back and regret how much time and effort we spent chasing this illusive dream.

TABI said...

So true in every way! I just can't believe how long I have been chasing this dream and I've completely lost parts of myself with no success yet to say it was all worth it. Balance is key and I hope to find it at some point!

Denise said...

Ditto on the other comments-so true!

Hey, did you ever get my email? I replied to the one you sent me. Let me know if not and I'll try sending from my work email.

Duck said...

So truthfull. I too am tired of that fresh newbie, if we only think positive it will work, yes I did that, it doesn't always work, sH*t happens to very good people.
Not that I'm a total downer, as I do have my mind now on me and on the end goal, yes I want to have a family, and it will happen, but, just not the way I thought it would.
Just stopping by, as you know I dropped out of the blogging world (and feel much happier since I have - just concentrated on having a normal life).
take care, wishing you the best.

Mermaid said...

Fantastic post. I agree with Tabi, I've lost pieces of myself through all this IF garbage.