THE DILIGENT BLOGGER THAT I AM

Here she comes, people: Infertility Awareness Week Topic #3.

Today I am going to tackle something more personal. It is a topic that I find myself thinking a lot about, and is discussed time and time again in our community. The subject to which I am referring is how out I am as an individual who is infertile, and what I pledge to do to change my status.

This is not to say that I have not shared our trying to conceive difficulties with anyone, but the numbers are few. I am OUT to a few people: My wonderful girlfriend who listens to all my anger and frustration, and accompanied me to my HSG (and informed the doctor that I was on CD9, because she's so great she even remembers those details); Shlomit, who is on this rocky journey right along with me; and S who truly understands, as she struggled to conceive a few years ago, and is now blessed with two beautiful daughters. I do have another friend who I am only out (small "o") to, and although she is wonderfully empathetic, she is pregnant for a second time, and I feel that at times she doesn't quite get it. Then there is MM who reads this blog (hi darling!) so she knows every detail of what is going on, but doesn't really discuss it with me. That's just the way she is, she is not one to talk about things... yet it is comforting to me that she knows what's up.

And finally, there are my parents (bring the grand total up to 7 people!). If it weren't for necessity (as in The C needed time off work and needed to obtain it from his boss, my parents) I'm not sure that we would have come out to them. Our first conversation included very superficial details: We want a baby and we need medical help. I think what my parents heard was: We have a doctor's appointment, and next month we will be pregnant. Ummm... not quite getting it, but as we didn't really share more details, I don't know if I could blame them.

Over the last month we have had a slew of appointments, nailed down some specifics, and formed some game plans. If my parents hadn't come out and asked: How did it go?, I'm not sure I would have shared anything. But they did inquire, so bit by bit we have been sharing some details. They are starting to understand that just sitting in a doctor's office won't get us pregnant. They are learning that there is an entire field, and yes specialized clinics dedicated to helping people get pregnant. That we will require medication, and perhaps even injections with needles, and ejaculations into specimen containers, and maybe test tubes to get us pregnant. And when we presented them with the menu of procedures and their costs (The C commented that the paper we received from our clinic looks like it could have come from out take-out menu drawer), my parents began to understand what we were facing... physically and financially.

There have been comments that allude to the fact that they don't get how invested we are in this emotionally. Let's look at a few, and examine their flaws:

1. You have to make an effort to make your life less stressful. a) I would not be lying if I said that other than being stressed about IF, I am less stressed than I have been in the past 12 years; and b) Stress will not change the poly-cystic nature of my ovaries.

2. You remember so and so (mother of two boys I grew up with)... As soon as she adopted S she got pregnant with M. I'm not quite sure how this relates to our specific situation, other than that my parents think that she probably was less stressed after the adoption went through, and therefore we can refer to #1.

3. Why don't you adopt? a) I'm not quite ready to give up so easily on experiencing pregnancy, and giving birth to children genetically related to us; b) It's not as easy as walking in to an adoption agency one morning and walking out with an infant of your choice; and c) To me, at this point, adoption offers an other set of emotional investments.

4. So you might have quintuplets? (Wow, did my father even say that?) Any amount of children would be a blessing, but there are ways to assure that won't happen. However, it's possible we could have twins.

Since this discussion that revealed their ignorance, I am trying to be more open and educating about infertility and how it is making us feel. It was hard at first to talk so openly, but I really want them to understand what we are going through. For example, when I was telling my mother about the upcoming HSG, I did not focus on the cost of the procedure, and that it might hurt, but more on the fact that I was upset that The C wouldn't be there with me, and how nervous I was that it might reveal some problems. I am also trying to educate them on what is alright to say to us, and to help them I have provided them with a copy of Infertility Etiquette from Resolve, and various literature about PCOS. Their attitudes and ways of supporting us are starting to change, and I am glad that The C and I decided to let them in on what is happening.

For all this talk about my varying degrees of being out and OUT, there have been two instances in the past two weeks where I walked away feeling somewhat ashamed that I didn't speak up about my infertility, and infertility in general.

The first episode occurred in Vegas while bitching to one of my girlfriends about getting my period. I never like getting my period. Since going off the pill it is very heavy and very uncomfortable. This was compounded by the fact that I had tried to time my taking the Pro.metrium so that I wouldn't get my period while away. Oh the tricks my flow plays on me! (Thankfully, because I have to induce my period, it's arrival is planned, and therefore does not signify a failed cycle.) So, ya... there I was complaining about this bloody annoyance. My friend's advice to me? I should switch birth control pills, or, you know, I should just get pregnant-because then I wouldn't have to worry about my period for nine months. Wait a minute... Why didn't I think of that??!! What did I respond? "Uhh.. ya."

The second instance was at my pharmacy. While I live in a city of a few million people, my neighbourhood has more of a small town feel where everyone knows everyone, and my pharmacist has known me since the day I was born. While filling my prescription for Met.formin (on which Centre de Fertilite xyz was clearly written,) my pharmacist proclaimed: "Oh, so you're having the same trouble as my daughter!" (His daughter who I grew p with and was friends with well into my teens.) My response: "Oh. Maybe. I don't know." Because I didn't know. The next time I went in I had a prescription from Clinic #1. Upon filling this one the pharmacist said, "Oh, so you've changed clinics, I hear this doctor is very good." Me: "Ya." (Please note that I am not worried about my privacy with the pharmacist, I am certain that he will not say anything to anyone.)

When I look back on both cases, I find myself thinking: Why did I not speak up? Why? With my friend I wish that I would have been bold enough to tell her that I was having such a shitty period because I wasn't pregnant. And that getting pregnant for me has not been so easy. With my pharmacist, seeing as he was opening the door, I wish that I had taken a step in. I could have enquired about what difficulties his daughter had with her pregnancies, and asked if she was open to talking about them. The second time I wish I asked what good stuff he had heard about my doctor and the clinic.

And so, on this Thursday of Infertility Awareness Week, I am making the following pledge:

I, Ms. C, solemnly pledge to be more out about infertility. I shall try tell the truth when I am asked why I don't have children. I will not be embarrassed by my struggle to conceive. I shall strive to educate those who are ignorant about infertility. I will work to dispel myths, and spread useful information. And I shall be thankful to you guys everyday for helping me learn and cope with y infertility.