Talking about it

I don’t like talking about infertility, which probably doesn’t surprise anyone who has read my blog posts before.  It’s actually the most uncomfortable and dreaded part of the whole childless existence these days: acknowledging my loss.  For me, it’s not even a topic of health or my body.  It’s my husband’s body, which for his sake I try to be very discreet, and my loss.

However, talking it out is usually a fool-proof way to heal, which is why I started this blog (a somewhat anonymous way to vent my feelings) and why I went to speak with a counselor.

About that – I don’t think I’ll be back.  She gave me some good tidbits and perspective regarding my “grieving period,” but also made a few references to if infertility becomes a “deal-breaker” eventually. Like, I might eventually choose to leave my husband for someone who can have kids.  Leaving my husband is not, and will never be, part of the plan or healing process here.  Thankfully, Ryan never knew I went to speak to someone, so he won’t ask about why I didn’t go back.

Last night I met an old friend for drinks.  I was dreading the meeting because I knew she probably knew (bad news travels fast) and of course it was going to come up, because it always does.  Thankfully I was 1.5 beers in when she asked directly “What’s up with you guys and babies?” So I talked about it.  We talked about it.  It wasn’t easy and 12 hours later I’m still replaying the conversation over and over in my head, but I didn’t cry.  And that, my friends, is improvement.

In the last 6 months or so I’ve been able to entertain a life that would be impossible if I were pregnant or had a small child.  Vacations booked, new fitness regimes, etc. Most notably, Ryan’s job may be offering him a position in Oregon, and he and I are considering the move. A HUGE decision for this California born-and-raised girl, but also incredibly enticing.  Starting fresh, scrapping our losses here in wine country and building new life where no one knows us (and where we can buy super affordable real estate) seems like a salve to the wounds of these last tough years.

We’ll see what happens.

I don’t want to be defined by infertility.  I don’t want to be constantly asked about it or constantly pitied, like someone who has lost their leg and the obvious impairment is a constant source of inquiry from the well-meaning masses.  But I know infertility is something I can’t change.  It’s happened to Ryan and I, it’s a done deal and something I will live with forever, regardless of if we end up with kids on day or not (adoption, one day, is not off the table). It’s part of me now, and like it or not, I will always have to talk about it.


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