Sitting at the computer four days post-surgery is a lot less painful than even yesterday. I am grateful for even micromovements of progress. It’s a beautiful sunny day in the Inner West, even if at this stage I’m mostly taking advantage of it via the window. I gingerly hung out some washing today and the sun felt amazing.
I’ve never had this kind of attention before. It’s weird. I was a high achiever at school, I’m a performer; I’m used to being on show in some sense. This, however, is entirely different (obviously), and odd, and slightly confusing. I’ve never had any procedure more taxing than the removal of wisdom teeth, so being a patient is the first new thing for me. I’m trying to be comfortable with the idea of lying around without feeling incredibly guilty. The second is all the well wishes that my wonderful, wonderful friends are sending – texts, phone calls, messages. They don’t all know what is going on exactly, but there is certainly a surge of warmth from the people around me.
I’m getting used to telling people. I have a standard text that I am copying and pasting now. I still don’t feel comfortable being completely open with the information but we are lucky to have a good solid core group of reliable friends, and it feels right to share this with them. They are all respectful enough to not spread the news around anywhere that we don’t want it spread. Speaking on the phone through all the obligatory medical mumbo-jumbo is becoming less of a struggle and more of a free information session. It’s still upsetting and I’m yet to get through one of these phone calls without tears, but that’s okay.
Another strange thing is that infertility can be so common – one in six couples, apparently – and yet you never, ever hear about it until some D-grade celebrity sells their story to Woman’s Day a few years later. I mean, I get that. I really do. A part of me wants to shout about this, raise awareness as it were, let people know that it is okay and at the same time totally fucked up, start a discourse, not feel so isolated in an ocean of pregnancy announcements, baby bumps, and Facebook photographs of junior doing the latest super cute thing. But the other part, against all greater logic, still burns with a tiny shame that I am somehow broken, or with an idiotic sense of self-pity. Like even using the word ‘infertile’. That’s what I am. But it is confusing, because there is still a possibility of being able to conceive through IVF, which is kind of a big deal, but also it’s like, if I didn’t have endo and just had PCOS, do I still have as much claim to the word? Do I have as much claim to it right now as someone who can’t have IVF at all, or has been dealing with this longer than I have? OF COURSE! It’s just a fricking word! Every step, every condition, every part of this is painful to a couple who want to start a family but for whatever reason, just can’t, temporarily or long-term. But I feel like the general public don’t have a grip on this and therefore, neither do I. I have this stupid ill-informed notion of what people are going to think of me, and frankly, who even cares? These are facts. I should not be made to feel ashamed of them, especially when the only person making me feel like this right now is myself. Nobody else. Everybody else is being incredible and supportive and as understanding as they can be. There is no ‘correct reaction’, for me, for husbandito, for our family, for our friends. It is a strange thing, because it is like grieving, but for who, for what? People don’t know what to say or what to feel. We are all confused.
The final part is knowing that babies are always going to be there. It’s kind of important for the continuation of the species, etc. I don’t expect to hide away in a hole and put my fingers in my ear yelling ‘lalalala I’m not listening’ every time someone tells me they are expecting. That would suck. But coping mechanisms need to be put in place. For me, it is more about being in a place in my life where so many of our close friends are having children, and not wanting to be alienated from them or make them feel bad. I don’t want to feel like I can’t meet up with Bentley and have coffee in case she feels awkward about being pregnant in front of me, or making everyone feel like shit at band rehearsal as our keyboardist Katie grows noticeably larger every week and I’m there putting a big fat dampener on the party. Whether that is the case or not, we all have to accept these are the cards we are being dealt and I’m not going to be a total flake about this. I guess it comes down to me.
I realise this is all part of a process and this insanity will pass. Thanks for bearing with my weird rant.
whatvioladidnext 