…and you can’t compare it to anything else.
“For every EIGHT people in a room, chances are ONE of them, male or female, is suffering with infertility; a heartbreaking disease of the reproductive system-not just an inconvenience. And sometimes you don’t know who that ONE person is. Therefore can I ask a favor? [Be mindful of what you say or ask.] Because while your [comments and] questions are truly innocent, the person could be that ONE…
That ONE who just experienced a miscarriage but is silently grieving.
That ONE who the doctor has told couldn’t have her own biological child.
That ONE who despite the prayers prayed, vitamins taken, treatments given, and diet restrictions enforced. the dream of becoming a mommy is still not within her reach.
That ONE who despite her body already producing ONE miracle, can’t seem to produce another.
That ONE who has to hold their wife as she sobs over year another month gone by without seeing two pink lines.
That ONE who has to endure thousands of dollars and hours of doctor’s appointments just to be given a chance to carry life within her womb.
That ONE who feels less of a man because he has ben unable to make his wife a mother
That ONE who has been waiting countless months, even years, for an adoption match.
That ONE who can’t walk by baby aisles without shedding tears…
You see, you never know who in the room is struggling with the pain that infertility brings and how those innocent questions [and comments] could open up a painful wound. I am that ONE.
I am ONE in EIGHT. ” ~ Elisha Kearns, Author and Manager of waiting for baby bird, blog and Facebook page.
There is a reason I started off with this particular quote. It is exceptionally accurate in explaining what it feels like to have Primary Infertility and Secondary Infertility. I’m probably going to sound like I’m ranting a bit here, and I guess you could say that I am. If you notice, Primary and Secondary Infertility is just mixed into the category of “Infertility”; both descriptions are considered to be “1 in 8” people. There’s no specification. I feel like there is a huge gap in knowledge and understanding when it comes to this issue. Let’s look a what Secondary Infertility is; which is technically what my husband and I are going through. It is when a woman has successfully given birth to a child (possibly even more than one); but after that birth, they cannot conceive again, and they have possibly miscarried as well.
I have overheard comments recently where a person was comparing my situation to another couple’s situation. First of all, this is impossible to do. No infertility journey is the same, just as no pregnancy is the same. I’m constantly hearing how my situation “isn’t that bad”. Then it is followed with this gem: “They already have one child so they aren’t hurting as bad as [said couple]”. Listen up! Those of us who are suffering from Primary and Secondary Infertility don’t judge each other. We don’t sit around and say, “Oh, my suffering is worse than yours because of [this, that, and the other].” In all reality, we don’t tell people everything that is going on. Think about it; when you ask someone how they are, you don’t want to listen to all the things that are really going on….Unless they won the lottery. We don’t want to listen to Aunt Mabel talk about her bunions and diarrhea. The same goes for infertility journeys.
Let me tell you about my journey thus far and what the comments really feel like when I hear them. First, I need to tell you about my pregnancy and the delivery.
My husband and I got married May 28, 2011. I found out I was pregnant sometime in December of 2011. That’s about an eight month time span. We weren’t exactly trying, but we were passionately enjoying our marriage. So we were surprised but not completely. I had been told by doctors my whole life that I couldn’t get pregnant due to my endometriosis. My pregnancy was miserable! I was experiencing pitting edema in my legs at 4 months. 
My blood pressure was way too high. I was put on bedrest at 6 months. The headaches were horrible. Constantly keeping track of my urine output for the hospital. Finally, I started having contractions two weeks early. My daughters heartbeat would drop with every contraction which worried the doctor on call. Of course, wouldn’t you have guessed it? MY doctor went on a Disney cruise and wouldn’t be available.
So I was induced; I believe that was a Saturday evening. My labor was worse than the pregnancy. Both of us could have died; at about two separate times I actually thought that I was staring at my inevitable death. I’ll say this: God has a way of helping you forget certain pains. My husband had to help me fill in some of the details. I thankfully, don’t fully remember some of it. My water finally broke on Monday morning (July 30, 2012) at one am. I was only dilated 1cm. The contractions became exceptionally strong at that point, so the doctor offered an epidural which I jumped on quicker than a child who sees a bouncy house. That particular doctor left at 6 or 7 am. The next doctor on call…well I’ll just say that she made me really miss the first doctor. At about 8 am I was fully dilated and the nurses had me “practice pushing”. I don’t know who they were kidding! The doctor didn’t even come in while I was trying to push a watermelon out of my completely numb nether region. That “practice pushing” lasted THREE HOURS! It turned out that my daughter was face up. She wanted to see the world apparently. Being face up isn’t good. She was also stuck in the birth canal. Finally, the doctor comes in around 11am and checks me and says I need to be rushed in for an emergency cesarean. So, there I am, tied to a bed with my arms out like Christ on the cross.
My daughter is born and my husband and a nurse take her to be checked. She had a breathing abnormality they were concerned about. Backing up a bit, my anesthesiologist during the cesarean was a different one from the one who did the epidural. The second anesthesiologist had wanted to do a spinal block but the doctor on call had told him there hadn’t been time. After my husband and daughter left the operating room, the doctor started ablating (burning) off any denometriosis tumors she saw before sewing me back up. I started to feel a small pain in my lower back on the right side. So I asked if that was normal. Let me tell you how quickly that pain spread! Like wildfire! I started moving my legs, which if you know anything about an epidural you absolutely aren’t able to do. The doctor starts sewing me up and at this point I am vomiting, screaming in pain, and crying. God bless that anesthesiologist! He petted me, turned my head, wiped my face, whispered in my ear that it was going to be okay. He started screaming at the doctor and the doctor was screaming back at him. According to my husband, the anesthesiologist was yelling “If you had let me do my job and give her the spinal block this never would have happened!” He was genuinely angry at the doctor. I felt everything. I felt her burning off the tumors, I felt her sewing me up. Luckily, I don’t remember the pain anymore. My memory is that I know I felt it. I don’t remember going to the recovery room. But I do remember my husband coming in and seeing me shaking from the pain so badly that I looked like I was having a seizure. The nurse came over and wanted to push on my stomach….I’m sure that wouldn’t have hurt if the epidural had continued to work or if I had gotten the spinal block…but I was terrified and begged her not to touch me. My husband literally stood between me and the nurse (and she was an excellent nurse) asking if she could give me pain medicine first. They were able to but it didn’t make it any less painful. I was on a morphine drip for a day or two. I didn’t even get to hold my daughter until 6 pm, and she had been born at 12:11 that afternoon. I was in the hospital for a week. At one point my blood pressure was high enough that they were genuinely afraid I was going to have a stroke. They didn’t want me to leave a week later but they reluctantly let me go.
Already…you can see that I have a problem carrying a child. Pregnancy is hard for me. Just because I have a child doesn’t mean that I don’t feel the same pain as a person who doesn’t have one. My husband and I are beyond grateful for the child who survived all of that. Having her DOES NOT come close to eradicating the loss of her siblings. I do have a child, but I didn’t get to enjoy my pregnancy with her. We both almost died! I hear constantly: “When are you going to have another child?” “When are you going to give her a sibling to play with?” “You already have a child so you will be able to have another one.” Not to mention my daughter always saying she wants a sibling to play with. I feel like a failure. There is also fear. What if I do get pregnant but I end up losing another one? What if I get pregnant and something goes wrong during the pregnancy or delivery and I die? The fear is real for me. My body is defective. Do you understand that? I’ve miscarried and lost pregnancies. Every negative pregnancy test, every beginning of a period, every negative ovulation predictor test, hearing the doctor say, “The womb is empty”, and watching my husband start to sob….HEAR ME when I say that a little piece of me dies each time. I don’t go around and tell everyone this… about my feelings. Not to mention the fertility treatments. Hormone drugs are exceptionally difficult. They make me crazy! Like I don’t already feel crazy! So far the only thing left to try for me is IVF and adoption. Only one problem; I don’t have 10 grand for IVF or much, much, MUCH more than that for adoption. That’s something that people don’t know. The cost for those put people into debt.
None of this negates our struggle for conception. When I miscarried the first time, I had people telling me that their miscarriage “didn’t hurt like that”. Lucky you! Mine felt like labor. I had contractions, the urge to push and the pain was so bad that my doctor had me hospitalized. Apparently, my endometriosis made the miscarriage much more painful than normal.
Every infertility journey is different. That doesn’t make one better or worse than the other. My husband and I have no choice but to schedule sex. When your sex life is dictated by a smiley face that has pee on it, I can tell you that the romance….well it’s limited. It’s hard on the men too. They feel the pressure to perform, like the ability to conceive is on their shoulders. It’s difficult for me during that time because my pain level is very high during ovulation. Sex doesn’t hurt during the act, but I’m basically bed ridden the next day. The saying is, “Trying is the best part?” Yeah, sure. I’m on day 1,654 of trying. That’s 4 years, 6 months, and 13 days….of trying.
Lastly, infertility whether it’s primary or secondary cannot be compared to anything else. Infertility isn’t the same as wanting a house, or a car, or a puppy. Not being able to conceive or carry a child feels like you are defective…broken…a failure. Like you are not a woman. I don’t think you can compare anything else to that. Yes, I have a daughter and she, straight up, is a miracle. Every time someone says, that we aren’t going through any trials, or storms, because of our miracle daughter, they negate my pain and my husband’s pain. They negate the pan of my lost pregnancies which were very real and tangible to me. They negate the last 7 years of my life. Remember your words have power. Infertility is still infertility.
My Aberrant Life 