Here's another: if you could go back in time and wave a magic wand, would you take away your diagnosis? What if you could wave a magic wand right now and just like that, your infertility was gone?
Of course, we can't wave a magic wand or travel back in time.
All we can do is to live in the moment.
Today I've written about this idea of accepting my infertility at Identity Magazine, "an online magazine that empowers women to accept, appreciate, achieve."
Here's an excerpt from the article:
While infertility has wrought havoc on both my body and spirit, it hasn’t broken me. I’ve come close; I was brought to the ugliest corners of myself that frightened me in their visceral rawness. It was through this dark journey that allowed me to confront some of my worst fears and come out renewed and strengthened.
No matter how difficult this road has been or how challenging it may be as we begin treatment, I wouldn’t take my infertility back for a second.
You can read the rest of my article, Accepting Infertility and My New Identity, at Identity Magazine.
13 comments:
I'm going to have to read the article and see how the word acceptance is defined. I think I've accepted our infertility as just one of the many things in my life I have no control over. Right now (with my husband in the army) I see myself as a piece of seaweed drifting through my life going where the current pushes and pulls me. That's my view of acceptance. Just rolling with the punches knowing I'll make it through or waiting until I can throw a punch of my own.
Keiko, you are pretty amazing. After we learned thru our first ivf attempt (and subsequent not-quite ivf cycles) that my eggs weren't going to do us a lot of good, I spent so much time calculating how we could have done things differently. I was 27 then, TTC since 26, but married since 22. We could've started trying, maybe not right away, but maybe when I was 24? Would that have been early enough to make a difference? I was a little obsessed with the wish that time travel existed so I could fix this. That changed when our baby boy came to us thru adoption. Then the calculations meant that, had I actually been able to get pregnant earlier but then faced secondary infertility, we wouldn't have started trying and come to adoption in time to be there for our son. Thus, he is our answer--he was always meant to be our son, and without infertility, he wouldn't have been. So that was when I finally found meaning and true acceptance of my infertility. And now that I am pregnant via donor eggs, I have another baby to be grateful for who never would have existed without this disease. I will always wonder a little about that half-me, half-husband baby who will never exist (the closest we got was three 8-cell embryos that I carried for just a couple weeks), but I stopped having regrets two years ago with the birth of our son. You amaze me because you have found so much more peace and meaning in this journey already. I feel compelled to break out an oldie but goodie--you go, girl :)
I don't accept my fertility because I want to change it and I am willing to make those changes and keep trying to become fertile. I am thankful for the journey so far but I feel I have gotten all that I can from it and hope that we can move on soon. Love your blog!
I agree with Willow. I would've changed it in a heartbeat before our girls were born via DE IVF. Now I wouldn't change it for the world although I would love to have functioning ovaries for the hormones so I could stop taking pills and worrying about osteoporosis and health issue stuff.
I'm pretty sure I'd wave the wand and get rid of it. I'm not saying this road hasn't changed some things in my life and made me a better person, but I certainly wouldn't deal with PCOS and loss and infertility if I didn't have to.
Wow, that is a great article. I am always impressed with your composure and writing abilities. But, I have to say that I would gladly wave a magic wand and be finished with infertility. A lot of that comes from the fact that I am diagnosed with unexplained infertility and the doctors have yet to find a reason why I can't get pregnant, even after trying for over 2 years. Although I've met some wonderful people on this journey and have learned a lot, I want to be on the other side so badly that it physically aches at times. And, I hate, hate, HATE it when pregnant friends complain about their minor aches and pains or friends that are parents complain about their children. I know that pregnancy and child-raising will never be perfect, but the one thing that I can say is that infertility has made be more aware of these complaints and I have vowed to "grin and bear it" and focus on the positives more if I am ever lucky enough to get to the other side.
I think I could do without infertility. I had a tough childhood growing up, in fact, I was grown up before my time. I didn't really grow with the experience of IF. It would be nice if waiting to be a parent made you more thoughtful parent, or a more patient parent, but it doesn't. My mom is the most thoughtful, loving, and patient parent/grandparent I know, and she came to parenthood easily. It would be cool if I could say it made our marriage stronger, but our marriage was already kicking ass and taking names. Maybe, just maybe, it is a bullet I took so some other couple, not as well together or prepared, could get a pass? That I could live with :)
A beautiful post. I agree with practically everything you stated. I think infertility has grown me and my marriage tremendously. There are hard days where I do say that I would wish it away, but those days don't profit me anything either. As you aptly stated "I can't wish it away" so I may as well embrace it. This is part of who I (we) are and I strongly believe it's here for a reason. I just don't know if I'll ever fully understand that reason. Anyway, loved your post.
Hmm... do I accept the fact that I procrastinated against parenthood long enough to see my own fertility decline? Do I accept a specialist's diagnosis and just assume I'll never be able to conceive without medical intervention? Do I accept the wisdom and perspective that only profound heartache and hardship can bring? Do I have hope beyond my circumstances?
Yes. No. Yes. Yes.
Great post.
I have accepted my fertility as there isn't anything I can do to change who I am. It's part of who I am. That doesn't mean I can't pursue fertility treatments as those don't change my natural fertility. I've accepted the fact that if this cycle fails, that we probably won't be able to (really) try again until next summer. I've accepted that my body is partially broken, but I've started to repair my broken heart. I've accepted the fact that our path to parenthood might not be the traditional route. And I'm so glad to finally be here.
What an amazing article. I agree: it does build resislance and resources that we didn't know we had, and I'm grateful as well to be reading the blogs of women of strength.
As for acceptance: I believe you do not achieve change without acceptance, if that makes any sense. It is in accepting where we are now, (Emotional Freedom Technique set up phrase: Even though I have this infertility, I deeply and completely love and accept myself) and gratitude for it, that really brings peace and the power for good things to happen
I accept that I am a woman with unexplained infertility. But if I could wave a magic wand and become fertile, I would do it immediately.
I know that I am stronger for having gone through what I've gone through, but I would give anything not to have had to go through it. However, I no longer beat myself up over taking the Pill, or waiting to ttc. I have accepted that that is my past. I don't know if that's accepting my infertility or not...
beautiful and eloquent as usual. I'm not sure I accept my infertility, but I'm not sure that it changes my way of thinking towards a family anyway. I've always wanted to adopt and have my own, so maybe I'll have to let go of the having my own half me/half him, but I'm not there yet. I think that this delay/inability will help my hubby find adopting acceptable, and maybe that is what is meant to happen. But no, I've not accepted, it still hurts and aches in to many places in my heart for me to say that I have just yet.
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