The One About “Knowing”

I know how you feel.

Someone said that to me the other day. I don’t know them, they’re just a person I spoke to briefly to assure them a clomid symptoms was normal. I spoke to her enough that she thought she knew where I was at.

I’ll admit, I was a bit uncharitable. I just thought, no actually, you have no idea.

Because I remember being in that place. About 18 months in, it was hard. I don’t know if I cried a lot because I was still processing a miscarriage, or if it’s really hard in general at that time, when you realise things have changed and you have a real problem here.

But it was hard in a different way.

It was still “when we have kids” back then.

After 2 years, that was hard too. You are now double the “12 months”. The time when you should start seeing a doctor because of fertility issues has passed twice. You are double as unlucky.

Around that time, after 2 years, it became “if”. If we have kids. If we are so lucky. Still hope, still possibility.

We are nearly 4 years now. I have an appointment coming up and it’s likely to be my last. A last ditch hope that maybe after the surgery and the meds he might have some other thoughts on why I’ve still never had a regular cycle since coming off the pill.

We don’t even say “if” anymore.

We don’t talk about the future with that possibility, it’s too hard. Our plans for the future are for 2 now, even though we desperately wish otherwise.

Me at 18 months-in cried more than me now, but she wouldn’t understand how it feels. 

And I don’t know how it feels to be my friend who has done everything and has come to a new chapter in life she never wanted.

And other people don’t know how it feels to read surgery notes and see “IVF recommended”, and know you can never take that opportunity, even if it’s the one thing standing between you and having kids. Knowing you would do anything, but it’s not up to you alone.

None of us know how it feels, not really. Because we are in this shitty, god-awful situation together but all of our paths are different – even if they intersect sometimes.

I don’t know how well you coped or if it hasn’t been so bad yet or if you’re at the end of your rope. It’s not a matter of how far you went or what procedures you had or if, like me, you’re stuck at the beginning (but it’s also the end). So I won’t say I know how you feel.

I’ll just say, “that’s bullshit”.

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One thought on “The One About “Knowing”

  1. Damn straight. Couldn’t agree with you more on that advice for others. Most people haven’t done shit for us when our six rounds of DEIVF failed, and very few did more than a courtesy text message after finding out we lost our baby at 9 weeks during round 4. Infertility sucks ass.

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