You know that roller coaster ride? The one that looks kinda scary but do-able? Not “shit your pants” scary, but maybe a “few girlie screams and some good laughs after it’s all said and done” scary? So you wait in line for this coaster, you get to the front of the line, and you realize that the people getting off the ride aren’t smiling. They’re not laughing. They look pale and relieved to have made it through the ride alive. You take all of this information in in a matter of seconds, and next thing you know, you’re being strapped in. Some pimply teen employee walks by your chest strap and gives it a light pull (while texting). Your chest strap gives way a bit and you KNOW that it’s most likely going to malfunction on the ride. “Excuse…me….I think….is this strap….broken….???” But the teen minimum wage employee has walked on, and the ride begins. You’re on the ride, and there’s no getting off of it. It inches closer and closer to the top of some insane plunge, and although you really realllllllly don’t want to be on the ride anymore, you’re not going anywhere until it’s over.
At 12 years old, that coaster was Viper at Magic Mountain. At 31 years old, it’s TTC.
I woke up this morning around 3AM quite anxious and afraid…thinking about all of the unknowns associated with this coming year…my body and all of the shit associated with it is the coaster I don’t want to be strapped into anymore, but there’s no escaping it. I have to go along with it for the ride, as scary as it may be.
I mentioned a few posts back that I had a friend who was publicly open about her infertility on Facebook. Two weeks ago, she posted that she was not confident about her recent IUI taking, and got a bunch of annoying responses back from mommies who clearly had never gone through any sort of challenges ovulating or getting pregnant. I legitimately felt bad for her after reading those comments, and wrote her a private email just letting her know that I was there for her if she needed to talk, and that I was also going through a tough time with TTC.
She never responded.
It’s hard for me to admit when someone has hurt me because I tend to project a very “happy-go-lucky” lightness out into the “real” world, but it really stung that she didn’t write me back…I guess maybe I should look at why I wanted her to write me back so badly, or why I find it rude that she didn’t… but I feel like there is a sort of unspoken code around women dealing with infertility that if someone opens up to you about their own struggles while extending a supportive gesture about the IUI you just posted about, it’s very hurtful to ignore that. Am I crazy here? Would you ever ignore a support email from a fellow infertile? Also, she is not a random friend, but someone who I see on a pretty regular basis. So…she’d rather post to random “friends” who tell her to “just relax” on Facebook than have a real conversation with me? My infertile pride has been wounded.
Yesterday, this post showed up in my feed:
Infertile Friend: I’m trying to figure out whether it’s more beneficial to continue fertility treatments, or just throw a bunch of money into a pit instead. Both seem to be equally effective at this point, and the cost would be about the same.
So, I guess the IUI didn’t take.
Annoying Mommy Comment #1: I think if you just let it go, what will be, will be, remember it did not happen right away for your mom. I thought she once told me she had let go of all pressure she put on herself, and than it happened.
Annoying Mommy Comment #2: Go for a long weekend somewhere, drink heavily and don’t think about it. That’s how we got Griffin. 🙂