I began writing this post with National Infertility Awareness Week (#NIAW) in mind, but never finished it. Mainly because I am soooo tiiiired and am having trouble doing anything these days. I’m sleeping 9-10 hours at night and still need a nap in the afternoon! I just want to eat and sleep and eat and sleep. Somewhere between I find the time to do a little freelance work and run errands. Ironically, even though I work part-time and from home, I can’t remember having less time to do all the things I need to do.
The main reason I didn’t post this for #NIAW, though, is because I’m not ready to come out of the infertility closet. At least not on mainstream social media. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I admire, even envy, those who are relaxed enough to share their struggles with their extended social circle. I wish I could be so easy-going about the whole thing, but this is where I think I’m more my Generation X than the Generation Y I usually identify with.
I’m not ashamed of our decision to use donor eggs. In fact I’m rather proud of how quickly DH and I processed a dizzying amount of complicated information in a short amount of time and independently concluded within hours of each other that donor eggs was the best way forward. The time frame from when I learned of my wonky chromosome (September 25th) until the day we were matched with Nellie (November 1st) is just five weeks — and those were 36 intense days filled with crying, deep talks, research, and a crash course in genetics. Just two months after my unthinkable diagnosis, I began my mock cycle. I am so proud of DH and me. Proud of how well we communicate and how we’ve stuck together. Oh, we’ve argued alright, but it’s been about dumb stuff. This journey has brought us closer than I thought possible.
But that doesn’t mean I have to share any of this with The World At Large.
All but a few people who need (or we want) to know have been told that we turned to DEIVF. Extended family members and anyone who is not a close friend don’t need to be told. Why do we need to discuss the circumstances of our children’s conception to anyone outside of our inner circle? We don’t. Why is it relevant? It’s not.
And this is one of the main reasons why I won’t be announcing my pregnancy on Facebook. If I did, it would be something along these lines:
Either –
I’m delighted to announce that DH and I are expecting our first child around November 13th. Pregnancy after miscarriage is very much filled with anxiety and fear, but we are growing more hopeful by the day.
Or –
It’s been a crazy year: first I had a miscarriage; then, less than six months later, I learned I have diminished ovarian reserve which means I am less fertile than a woman my age. And if that weren’t bad enough, my DOR was likely caused by my wonky 8th chromosome. So not only will I go through the menopause early but I am so genetically fucked that I can’t have a genetic child. The good news is I can have a biological child: I’m delighted to announce that I am pregnant thanks to donor eggs! After everything I’ve been through, I’m more than a little nervous, but hoping to welcome our baby in November.
Although both feel true to myself, neither is really my style. Besides, how could I post something without alluding to our struggle, knowing that if I did it would soften the blow to a fellow infertile?
I’m not sure what it is I’m grieving exactly (that’s another post in itself, and one I’m actively working on) but I think it’s okay that I didn’t out myself during #NIAW. Instead, I shared one link every day that I thought was educational for fertiles and supportive of infertiles and loss parents. I wasn’t surprised by how few Likes and comments they got — I get the distinct impression that Liking such a post is akin to admitting you’re on your second or third round of IVF. It’s private this infertility stuff, and that’s okay. If I helped one person feel less alone then that’s great. But no one felt compelled to message me their whispered story. If they had, perhaps I would have been open with some or all of the truth.
I did get a couple of lovely messages acknowledging the possibility of our struggle. It’s been over a year since I posted about my miscarriage on Facebook (a decision I half regret) and I still haven’t made a pregnancy announcement. It’s a fair assumption, and in those instances I quietly shared the news that I am pregnant and “had more help than I could possibly describe” but didn’t go into details. I’m comfortable with that.
Right now, it’s my story, and I get to choose whom I share it with. At the end of this decade, I will hopefully have a bright and curious six-year-old who is beginning to grasp the simple idea that Mom and Dad wanted you very much but Mom didn’t have the right part, so Nellie helped us out. When s/he finally understands their genetic heritage, the story will truly become theirs. After our child is born, DH and I are the guardians of their story. Eventually, we’ll have to gently guide our child through the difference between being the positive ‘private’ and the negative ‘secretive’, which has a connotation of shame.
It’s a fine line to walk sometimes, and I’m glad I have a little time to figure out a healthy balance.
Adi says
Your little person, growing like a weed, totes bored by mom and her egg stories. WHATEVER MOM LET’S GO PLAY LEGO. ;)
Lauren says
This is one of my all time favourite comments in the world EVER. <3
Adi says
<3 xoxoxox