Infertility

Wanting children and not being able to have them is the loneliest feeling in the world.

The wind is howling outside, rattling the windows. I like the way my house shudders in the wind, almost like it's shivering, while I'm so cozy inside. One more week till my birthday! 26. Holy cow. I can't believe I'm 26 and still have no children. I was 22 when I got married, and was sure I'd have at least two kids by now. Instead, I have a very successful career, I make $32,000/yr, and I have a beautiful four-bedroom colonial house. But no children.

Jason and I had tried everything, but the babies just wouldn't come. At first, I was stoic.

J and I are trying a new fertility device called an "OV Watch." While I truly hope it works, I am filled with a feeling of calm. I'm not a mother right now, and that's ok.

I think the thing that killed my hope was the miscarriages. I could have survived infertility if it wasn't for getting pregnant, feeling my body respond to the miracle growing inside it, and then suffering the physical and emotional agony of having my body reject that child. It was too much.

I'M PREGNANT. I found out two days ago while I was bathing Rhett. Let me explain. My period was late, and I kept thinking, "Jess. You need to test." But I couldn't make myself go there, because this summer I had a miscarriage. We all had been so excited about the baby, and then I lost it. Devastating. That's why I haven't been writing in my journal. I just couldn't make myself explain the situation until I was happy again. So, it was difficult allowing myself to feel hopeful, but I bought the dang test anyway. I resisted and resisted, and started to fill the tub for Rhett. The running water made me need to pee, so I said, "To heck with it!" and took the test. I couldn't bring myself to look at it, and just continued bathing the dog.

My knee-jerk reaction to hard times is denial and numbness. This experience with infertility was no exception. Eventually, however, realty forced itself upon me as I suffered my third miscarriage.

I turned to writing to vent my feelings.

Another month, another miscarriage. It happened weeks ago, but I couldn't bring myself to write about it until I was really ok. I am now. There's nothing to say about it, really, except that it was a very dark and painful time. The process of aborting the baby was physically excruciating and emotionally devastating. Jason cared for me, stood up for me, and was the light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. What would I do without him? But I'm ok. Life goes on.

Jason was my champion.

Dear Jessie,

You told me not to cheer you up, so to honor your request, here is everything I hate about you. 1. I hate how perfectly beautiful you are. 2. I hate how perfect you are at everything you put your hand to. 3. I hate what an amazing wife you are. 4. I hate you at times I can't take my eyes off you. 5. I hate how you always make everyone feel good, just by being you. 6. I hate your relentless efforts to be the best woman who ever lived. I hate that you have succeeded at number 6.

When I was a young teenager, I thumbed through a magazine and paused on an article about the effects of infertility on marriage. A strange read for a teenager, but it struck me at the time and I read the whole thing. Fast forward to a decade later and I was having my own infertility issues. Jason and I had just got the news that we had lost another pregnancy. I collapsed onto a kitchen stool and put my face in my hands, and Jason quietly slipped upstairs. While I was wallowing in my own misery, a memory of that article suddenly came to me. With perfect clarity, the image of the article flashed into my mind. I could see the glossy spread, the photos, the type font. A paragraph stood out- one that explained that infertility is just as wounding for the husband as it is for the wife. I felt chastened. With a heart full of love, I went upstairs and found Jason sitting in the dark, crying. It was a relief to give back a little of the comfort he had showered on me over the years.

The waiting wasn't all bad. Jason and I had loads of nieces and nephews to play with, and I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to be fond of my little relatives. I had always assumed that my aunts were nice to me out of duty! Imagine my amazement when my nieces and nephews grew into genuinely cool teenagers. I didn't anticipate the meaningful friendships that I enjoy with them.

We also got a couple of dogs. Thing is, they were both Great Danes, so it was a lot like welcoming two full-grown adults into our house.

Rhett was such a good boy. My word, he was HUGE. We liked Scarlett well enough, but Rhett was the shining star of our household. When I walked the two of them, I was told that it looked like I was driving a team of ponies.

Dogs are a nuisance. They sling drool everywhere, dig, poop, run tracks in your grass, stink up your house, and just generally wear a place out. It was all worth it, just to have someone to come home to.

Ever had fertility problems? How did you muscle through the pain? WBS! Jess.