Feel your pain…

February 25, 2009 at 9:50 pm (Uncategorized)

My friends and I have this inside joke whenever one of us is whining (usually over wine) about something that is happening in our lives.   To get a chuckle, we will say, “I feel your pain”.   This statement started way back when I was in a bar with a bunch of friends, and someone came up to me and poured out her life story.  I had only met this person for 10 minutes and I ended up knowing more about her than the people I went to the bar with.   At the end, I dared to ask, “why did you tell me this?”.  Her response, “Because I feel your pain”.   I just had to walk away laughing.  After all, I shared nothing with her except the fact that I am Deaf.  Her pain did not equal mine.

After getting the BFN from IVF #1 and recovering from it, I found myself analyzing how people reacted to the BFN.  Most people said they were sorry, asked if they could do anything.  The ex-best friend decided to tell me about how she spent her Sunday afternoon with the cutest baby she ever saw.   But some people ended up saying things similar to, “I feel your pain” even though they never expienced IVF or struggled with IF as long as we have.   I wanted to scream at them and say, “You have no f-ing clue how I feel, and you cannot possibly feel my pain!”.

A person I know who struggled for 4 months to get pregnant (now, I’m not putting down people who’ve tried mere months, but this is being said with some sarcasm) sent me an email saying how much she understands what it is like to get a negative pregnancy test.   Yeah – did you have to inject yourself every day?  Did you have your follicles sucked out of you?  Did you try for 2 years, every month being a BFN?  I don’t think so.   You don’t feel my pain.

My mother in law emailed and said she totally understood.  Yeah, right.  She was able to have two children.   Nope, I don’t think you feel my pain.  Her email just made me angry.  No statement about, “are you ok? I’m thinking of you” but more like, “Its all about me and my pain”.  At that time, I could have cared less.

The best response actually came from my mom, who was very honest and said, “I cannot possibly understand what you are going through.  I am here for you however you need me.”

See, my mother was one of those “sneeze and you’re pregnant” women.  She was taking birth control pills when she discovered she was pregnant with my brother.   She actually had an IUD when she got pregnant with me.   She was very fertile.

My father simply said, “I feel sad for you.  I’ll make sure to say a prayer and I know someday you’ll make a great mom.”

I still get teary-eyed when I think of what they said to me.  Nothing but honesty.  Nothing but just simply saying they were sorry and they are here for me when I need them.

As we prepare for IVF #2, we (DH and I) both are wondering how many people we will tell this time, and I think we will be more selective of who we tell.  I also realize that going through IVF has made me a very selfish person, but I think sometimes rightly so.  I’m one of those people who volunteers to be a taxi driver, who will be there for friends and family without question.  But as we approach IVF #2, I’m going to be a lot more selfish.  I’m going to take off work as much as I need without the guilt.  I’m going to rely more on others for help and I’m going to take care of myself for a change.

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A Good Day

February 3, 2009 at 8:41 am (Uncategorized)

My DH and I both played hooky from work – a very much needed stay-at-home mental health  day.  We watched movies, napped, baked banana bread and had a little “fun” (my RE is on the very conservative side when it comes to having intercourse during an IVF cycle.  It’s pretty much discouraged- my apologies if this is TMI for some readers!).  This day was exactly what we needed – we laughed, we talked, we cried and we started to move on.

I didn’t make the call to my RE today, I decided to wait until tomorrow simply because we were enjoying this day off.  My co-workers were supportive, sending me a few text messages.  I wish we both could afford to miss another day, but I know how important it is to get back into the routine of things.  I’m ready to stop feeling sorry for myself and just get back out there, trying again.

Here’s to tomorrow!

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