Monday, 1 October 2012

The Art of Turning a UFE to a FE (Part 4)

UFE = Unfertilised Egg
FE = Fertilised Egg

Well here we are. Standing at the crossroads. Unsure of where each path may take us. Afraid to take the next turn.

Someone described it as an "invisible loss". You cannot see it, touch it or hear it, but the overwhelming grief, pain and sadness is there. 
How do you even begin to explain to people what it feels like to:

Fear that you may never have a child who looks just like you or has inherited your unique quirks and mannerisms.

Lose faith and hope.

Find that you are one of those statistics.

Have moments where you are overcome with sadness.

Cry when you least expect it.

See your partner reduced to tears.

Still have days where you have to force yourself to do the simplest things because you lack the motivation to do anything.

Resent the fact that everyone else gets to go on with their lives as normal while you have to deal with this.

Want to scream in frustration at those who:
* Minimise it with "it will be all right". There is nothing about this situation that is 'all right'.
* Dismiss it with a "you can always try again". You know that for a fact do you?
* Resort to the tired old cliche of "everything happens for a reason". Really? What reason might that be? Please enlighten me.
* Tell us "I know exactly how you feel". Believe me when I say, you don't.

Blame yourself and wonder if you did something in a past life to deserve this.

Have to dig deep - really, really deep - to find the strength, courage and resilience you never thought you had to pick yourself up and keep going.

Have both your hearts break in two.

Be helpless because you cannot mend your partner's broken heart.

Realise that you cannot protect the one that you love the most from all the bad things in the world.

Mourn a dream that seems just out of reach.

Have a shadow cast over your happiness.

We are grateful for those who refrain from offering us meaningless platitudes. For those who continue to show us sensitivity and empathy. For those who look us in the eye and face this head on, and do not compel us to sweep it under the carpet because it is too uncomfortable to bear. For those who shed a tear with us. For those who make us laugh. For those who reach out and open their hearts to us. For those who truly care about us and our well-being. For those who are just there. We have never known such kindness until now. 

Once again, I felt compelled to share this part of our journey. Not just because writing about it is a relatively inexpensive form to therapy, but because MOH (My Other Half) and I thought that we had something important to say. We want everyone to understand that infertility is a very real situation that affects so many people who are just like you. That it deserves to be recognised as a increasingly prevalent problem in our modern society, and there are certain causes that are not provided with enough funding to progress vital research to find a 'cure'. That those who face it have very different experiences and deal with it in very different ways so they deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, and not dismissed as another statistic or reduced to a bit of gossip over coffee and cake. That its impact is extremely devastating and debilitating, and can be life-changing.

However, while I usually end all my pieces about this topic with "to be continued" this time I won't. While it may not be the end of our journey to have a child, we need time to be able to work out where we want to go from here. So I am going close the book on this for now until we somehow find a way to create a new and different story.

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