First and foremost, I need to say a huge HELLO! to all of you. I realize I’ve been MIA here at The Infertility Voice website as of late and when I got a comment on an old post today wondering where I’d went, I knew it was time to come back to this space. So firstly, me, Larry and the Knish are just fine. Promise 🙂
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I’ve been largely silent lately as I’ve been struggling with depression yet again. What I thought was due to my thyroid levels being as wonky as they have been throughout my pregnancy is in fact not the case, which leaves me facing a darker reality that perhaps its root lies elsewhere. The good news is that my TSH last month was up in the rafters (for me, anyway) around 7.5. This month they’re back to where they should be, coming in just under 1. I’m hoping they continue to remain stable throughout my pregnancy.
So I’m left to wonder: is it pregnancy hormones? My body adjusting to finally coming off the extra hormones I was on for the first 14 weeks? Or is it something more?
And like any good depressive, I’ve been avoidant of actually confronting it.
Another factor that’s played a role into my recent radio silence has been my relevancy here in this space. I’ve felt strangely confined by labels and definitions lately, that I’m somehow irrelevant because I’ve “crossed over.” Because I’ve “made it.” Truth be told, I don’t think I’ll have ever “crossed over” until the Knish is safely in our arms, home from the hospital.
I created Team Zoll as an outlet to talk about all the nitty gritty things about non-infertility and pregnancy-related things but the truth of the matter is, it’s nearly impossible to seperate the two right now. I’ve worked to create this relatively infertility-free approximation of mommyblogging that rings false. Most of my pregnancy posts over there seem to be complaining and full of gripes. And then I second guess myself that I’m not “enjoying” this pregnancy the way I *should* be, because we’ve worked so hard to get here. So I clam up. And of course, I hesitate to write about any of my pregnancy experience here.
It is a vicious, vicious cycle of self-doubt, only compounded by at times an overwhelming depression about what I’m doing with my life right now. And then there’s the whole “pregnant ladies shouldn’t be depressed” line I tell myself, buzzing in my ear like a mosquito, closely followed by “you should be more grateful right now.”
I spend a lot of time building other people up, of reassuring them that they matter, that your infertility experiences and stories and journeys matter – and they do.
I just sometimes wonder how my own story matters right now given this new and changing dynamic of my own life.
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I wish I could tell you that the moment you see a BFP – especially if it’s the first time you’ve ever seen one in your life, like I did – I wish I could tell you that it’s like the slate gets wiped clean and you’re like, “What infertility?”
G-d, I wish I could tell you that.
But from the moment our clinic called us with the good news, my immediate thought was: “Awesome. Let’s hope this pregnancy lasts.” And so while it might outwardly appear cute that I’ve got my weekly change date in my calendar, it’s not in any attempt to be cute or to savor this experience. For the first 12 weeks, it was an important countdown to the beginning of the second trimester, of knowing that I was in the “safe” zone. And yet, at 18 weeks along already (I know – this has flown by), I have my sights set on week 28: viability.
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We bought a fetal Doppler monitor from CraigsList a few weeks ago. I was stuck in this weird limbo of official release from my clinic and the stark reality that no, you don’t really go to the OB or midwife every week like you do at the RE clinic. And since this is my first pregnancy and I have absolutely ZERO context to what I should be feeling physically at any given moment, I was constantly worried about every twinge and symptom and headache and hip pain.
And there’s this void between that last ultrasound at about 14 weeks where you know you have something the size of I dunno, a plum? inside of you – the fact that you’ve seen it twitch and move on the ultrasound screen – and yet, you can’t feel it move. There’s a dissonance between what you know because you’ve seen it with your eyes and what you can feel with your body.
Up until very recently, I was terrified that my baby could be dead inside me at any moment and I wouldn’t know because I couldn’t see or feel anything in between appointments. So we bought a used Doppler. And I used it nightly for over a week. And every time I heard that fast running choo choo choo choo sound on the Doppler speaker, this Little Engine That Will, I let out a sigh of relief.
And yet, even now, as I feel the Knish moving a little, I still panic in those still moments when it’s very likely the Knish is just taking a nap, always wondering: “Is he/she okay?”
This is what infertility does to you, even once you make your way to “the other side.”
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I am not resolved – in a lot of contexts, but for now, I’ll leave it at infertility – I am not resolved. But I’m in transition. And transition and change are never comfortable places to be in. The last six years of my life have been marked by a substantial amount of change and transition: moving from Maryland to Massachusetts; getting married; working for two different schools then forging ahead to work for myself; buying a house; and in just a little over six months – a baby.
In a lot of ways, I wish life could just chill the fuck out for a few minutes, but then I suppose it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting.
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I’m hoping a trip to Disney World in two weeks (our last vacation and in celebration of our five-year anniversary at the end of the month; revisiting our honeymoon haunts) and the NLC Institute will give me the break and kick in the ass I need right now. My post infrequency has not been for lack of believing in and caring about each of you; rather, it’s more of a lack of believing in and caring about myself right now.
I know, I know – classic “it’s not you, it’s me” syndrome.
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I so desperately wanted to make it to the “other side” – but I don’t know that I could ever really be prepared for it, even as I march closer and closer to resolution, week by week. I’m haunted by the doubt that infertility paints like a mask on your heart; every day is colored by this doubt. Even when you’re pregnant, there’s just no shaking the ghost of infertility that lurks in the back of every thought.
I hope you’ll bear with me as I work my way through this transition.
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One last random thing: my first #IFchat Twitter chat was a bit of a flop due to Tweet Chat issues, but I’m firing up my infertility social media chat again this Friday at 12:30pm EST on Facebook. Join me over at The Infertility Voice Facebook page this Friday at 12:30pm to talk about what the hell is up, infertility, the Kardashians, and gasp! Anne Hathaway.
Sorry to hear you’re struggling with depression again. It’s an insidious m*therf*cker that is to be sure. A very, very formidably foe.
You are also dealing with a very difficult transition. It may seem strange to think of it as “difficult” when it is because you achieving something you”ve always wanted, but it’s still true. Carrying a healthy baby and having a successful pregnancy after IF is difficult. And figuring out who you are now, both here and in the “real world” is also really challenging. It’s all even more challenging because people don’t think it’s challenging.
But all of that truth just makes it clear how important and relevant you still are. This is a hard transition, one that many women (luckily) have to face and it is in their interest for those of us that go before them to explain what we are thinking and feeling and why. While there maybe some who don’t want to hear it, there are always many more that do. And probably the ones that don’t want to hear it now, will want to hear it some day. So I hope you keep writing, not despite of the depression and the identity crisis but BECAUSE of it. We need more thoughtful, intelligent people writing about this stuff. These are very real issues that need to be addressed.
Abiding with you.
Thank you so much for writing this! I’m in the middle of my 7th IVF cycle. This one is a frozen cycle and quite honestly it’s hard to be hopeful anymore. I’ve had 2 miscarriages, and 1 ectopic pregnancy. I totally get everything you are saying. I almost fear the “other side”. I told someone recently I am holding it together just fine during the cycle it’s once the test comes back I lose it. I know I’m not going to be able to really relax until my baby is in my arms… If I’m one of the lucky IVF patients to get there one day. Thank you for sharing. Have fun at Disney! That’s where my husband and I honeymooned too. I noticed you live in MA. We live in NH but my husband works outside Boston and we may be moving closer to his job in the next year. Either way I’d love to meet you. Congratulations on your pregnancy. However you feel is ok because it’s all emotional in one way or the other. Enjoy every minute of what you can and just survive the rest. 🙂
Joining the chorus of your readers/friends letting you know that we understand and are abiding with you. (((HUGS))) We will be here whenever you want to write and share and even when you don’t. Sending lots of peace, love, light, thoughts and prayers your way.
As I learned after years living through secondary infertility, loss and life in general, we always seems to be in some type of state of transition and uncertainty in our lives. I have learned to try to embrace the ambiguity, though I get that is easier said, than done. I wrote a post about this awhile back that you might appreciate right now, based on a great quote from Gilda Radner: http://bereavedandblessed.com/2011/05/delicious-ambiguity/
I so agree it is a transition. When I was pregnant I had some kind of emotional feeling that I would liken to “survivor’s guilt”. Except I wasn’t really a survivor…yet. I wouldn’t no, COULDN’T believe that this was actually going to happen until I had her in my arms. Everyday I would only be able to cross another day off on the calendar with the mantra “I am another day pregnant”. I wish I had some magic words for you to tell you the depression will lift tomorrow. But take each day as it is. Which each passing month you will make another connection with the Knish. I found pregnancy made me grow, in more ways than just the belly (and thighs, arse and underarms). I grew as a person and learned to make a new connection with my inner self and my fears. Hugs to you! And pat the Knish belly for us.
I can’t tell you how best to work through your depression, but I CAN tell you that I’ve walked through all the same emotions and anxieties that you are going through. I’m sitting here looking at my 6 day old son with a 3 year old in the next room, knowing that I never, ever, ever intend to try and become pregnant again, even if I wanted more children, so I should be done with infertility right? But not so much. It colors the way I see everything, I worry about EVERYONE I know who may decide to be a parent one day, I am still bothered by talk of easy conception and prying questions about plans of children, whether they are directed to me or not. I think the hard truth for many people is that pregnancy and parenthood after infertility, while an immeasurable gift that I am grateful for each and every day, at the same time relegates you to a permanent state of limbo. We’ll never quite be parents in the way that those fertile folks are, but we aren’t exactly infertile like the infertile people are anymore either. Somewhere in the middle, sometimes tipping a little one way, sometimes a little the other, but never quite in either camp. I’m sorry that you are struggling with so much of it right now, but I can at least tell you that it’s been a help for me to hear your perspective and the comments on your latest posts. At least there’s comfort in knowing others come through this feeling the same as I do. Take care of yourself.
Echoing what so many others have said, take care of yourself first, and sending warm thoughts your way.
I wish I could come up with something amazing and articulate to say here but all I can say is that your words, your story has impacted my journey. And continues to do so. We may be in different stages of the journey, but we are still part of the same community. I’ve been hoping for the best for you and your pregnancy, and really, as much as I appreciate your sensitivity to those of us who still aren’t pregnant, I’ve found reading your very honest pregnancy posts helpful. I’ve wondered what would happen if I get that BFP, and I know it won’t change the worry, the expense, the anxiety, the pain, or the profound shift of perception that all occurred when I was diagnosed with IF. It’s helpful to get the message that even if the pregnancy is very, very wanted, it doesn’t mean it we have to pretend that it’s all perfect sunshine and rainbows. So thank you for that.
Thank you for this response to my question/worry.
1) The impact of infertility when you want a baby stays… it has been 38 years and I was fussed for you. We reflect out personal histories always.
2) It is important have people talk/blog outloud that the golden state of pregnant we imagine when not getting and staying pregnant is not real. Pregnant has problems too, and they are real.
3) The same is true for newborns, babies, toddlers, preteens, teens, young adults and every other stage of life. Sometimes everyone of us wonders ‘Just why did I do this to myself and my life” … no matter what the choice is/was, no matter how much we adore and would give our lives for our children/grandchildren.
4) Culturally we no longer grow up seeing all sides of adulthood or parenthood or jobs or marriage. Writing honestly, and sharing as you are, is important because your experience is normal and it is normalizing for people to know they are not weird/alone/odd in their reactions. It is normal to idealize a state you want and have not been able to have. It is normal to be discouraged when the pretty picture is not what you get in real life. It is normal to worry about other people and their health/welfare.
5) AND, sometimes it is important to know you are not alone ~ with thyroid or diabetes or infertility or nausea or children with problems or being sleep deprived or whatever it is.
So breath deeply Keiko, we are holding your hands, knowing your worries/problems in our own lives, caring about you and ourselves at the same time. HERE with love and prayers.
KEEP WRITING!!!
First off, I’m so glad to see you! I’ve been missing you and wondering how you’ve been.
Secondly, thank you for this post. Too often there is this belief that once an IFer becomes pregnant, they are automatically healed from the mind-fuck that is infertility and loss. I agree with so many of your commenters (which I’ve learned so much from too) that pregnancy doesn’t equal resolution. It is a road to resolving but requires addition work on our ends. Just like any transition does.
Finally, I firmly believe that you should not be separating your pregnancy from this space. Too many of us have hoped and prayed for you to be on this road and I am beyond thrilled you are hear. But it’s also important for IFers and RPLers to share this aspect of the journey. Because pregnancy is a scary time with it’s own “what ifs.” So, write it out. No guilt or shame for complaining or voicing fears. Because even though you are pregnant, you are still a part of this community. An incredibly valuable part. And though I love the TeamZoll website, I equally love your work here too.
Sending many hugs.
You have some wise commenters.
I noticed your absence and missed you. You are going through an identity change, one of the biggest that a person can go through. Like JJiraffe says, you owe yourself first and your readers are down the line. From what I’m seeing in your comments section, we are all here as you go through the transition. Abiding…
HUGS.
too many tears to read all the comments, but what I’ve managed to read is all so wise and caring!
Wasn’t the key to living with depression to accept the emotions that you have, rather than to force yourself into what you think you should be feeling?
Can’t remember how many times my therapist told me to allow myself to feel sad. I allow myself now. And then feel sad. But not stuck, not depressed.
Then more hugs (and green tea and chocolate)
I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way, although I have to admit I’m feeling much the same way about this transition from infertile person to pregnant person. One difference, though, is hardly anyone reads my blog, so I would imagine that I don’t feel the pressure that you do. Sorry you are dealing with depression on top of everything else.
I remember thinking I’d feel better when I heard the heartbeat, and then when I heard the heartbeat a second time, and then when I made it to 12-ish weeks, and now at almost 16 weeks I’m just waiting to magically feel better. While it has gotten a bit easier, I also have the same fear of walking around with a dead baby (I was so glad you mentioned that, because it’s not the easiest thing to bring up when people ask how I’m doing). The more I accept that we might actually have a baby, the more frightened I become of having all of it taken away. I, too, feel like I should be enjoying things more, but I finally realized it is what it is…I think we have to just do the best we can and not put any pressure on ourselves to feel or behave a certain away. This didn’t come easily to any of us, and I don’t think that years of coming to terms with our struggles is erased with a positive pregnancy test. I think you have enough on your plate to not worry about your relevancy in this particular space right now – it will come. And I think your story DOES matter – in so many ways!
Hugs to you – hope you’re feeling better soon.
You just said what I’ve been thinking about. It’s weird as all get-out in the liminal space, and weirder still because you get to stay in it for so long during pregnancy. Personally, I think that “infertility resolved” is a myth, at least emotionally. SRB is right on about the distinct physical and emotional parts of the journey (in my experience at least). I assume that my emotions about infertility will be muddled and weird forever, and that’s ok. It’s probably even normal, given the impact it’s had on life. I also concur with Jules that once you’re a parent, it’s not magically all better. Things are still wicked weird and hard and whoa. In pharmacy we talk about “steady state” as a time where we can best predict what’s going to happen, but it’s really a mythical land of rainbows and unicorns where we can make better guesses about what might happen. I think that pregnancy and parenting through the ALI lens are like that – it seems like it should be all happy and perfect because it’s predictable, but it’s only predictably unpredictable.
So hugs and hope for you. Pregnant after/through infertility is a wild emotional ride and I’m glad you’re talking about it when you’re ready and willing to share.
Oh Keiko, I recognize so many of the feelings in this post. I was a mom before I went through the multiple losses and infertility and I still couldn’t let go of the fears that infertility left me with even once it appeared my pregnancy with Gabe was lasting. As strange as it seems, everything you are feeling regarding your pregnancy, all those conflicted feelings, are completely normal for an infertility survivor.
I so appreciate your honesty and openness. I often wonder how I’ll feel when I finally get pregnant again, not only about the pregnancy itself, but about my identity as an infertile. I’ve heard many pregnant infertiles say that they feel out of place in both the infertility and mommy communities. But why do those have to be two separate worlds? I get the feeling there are a lot of women out there in the “in-between.” Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they could all come together and create a new infertile mommy world?
So well-said, and take your time coming back to the blog! With my son (conceived with no issues) I blogged about the pregnancy ALL THE TIME. With my daughter, after 2 years of secondary infertility and some pretty bad luck, I rarely blogged about it- was scared the entire time that something would happen.. Those baby kicks were the only insurance I had that things were fine (I would have driven myself and hubby NUTS with a doppler!!!)…
That said, enjoy Disneyworld! We were there when I was 20 weeks pregnant on our first and last big vacation as a family of just three and we had an amazing time.. There were only a few rides I couldn’t go on, and they’re not ones I’m into anyway… Just make sure to rest when needed and drink lots of water!!
Keiko. I fully agree. You do not owe us anything. Take as much time as you need. I completely relate to much of what you said in this post. I am only four weeks ahead of you in my pregnancy, and I have ben plagued with similar doubts and fears. So far I have taken myself to the emergency department three times! I considered buying a doppler but decided against it…what if one day I couldn’t find the heart beat? I’d go crazy. I still say things like “if we have this baby”….”if everything works out with this pregnancy”. I wish I could relax. It seems so tenuous, so fragile, so unlikely to last. I just want this so badly, and struggled so hard. But a voice in my head is saying…”you don’t deserve it”.
This speaks to me because I remember feeling a lot of the same way through both my pregnancies and for very different reasons too (one being a twin pregnancy) and so, it really doesn’t even change even after you have that baby in your arms and you’ve “arrived.” But what I can tell you is there will be so much joy on the other side, a million wonderful feelings, emotions, memories to come. Focus on that when you’re feeling down and depressed. That may help. Sorry you’re having a hard time right now. But there’s nothing wrong with focusing on you right now either. Good luck!
Oh, Keiko. I am so sorry you are struggling with the transition. I remember feeling the same way, but no one was watching me or checking my blog, there were no expectations from others. That must make this harder.
All your readers are rooting for you but you owe us nothing on the blog front. Focus on taking the best care of yourself, whether it’s chilling out, watching dumb TV, sleeping or gaming. If you feel inspired to come back, awesome, if not, that’s awesome too.
Take care.
Xoxoxo
The transitional stage is a weird place, a limbo of sorts.
I used my doppler every night up (all the way up to 40wks), and I never felt certain that I was going to have a baby until I heard him cry. I was in a state of perpetual disbelief- somedays I still have trouble believing this is true.
Anyway, I hope that you’re feeling better. Depression sucks, and I’ve dealt with mine for many years.
I don’t think we even cross over completely after we have a healthy child. I am hoping to post about this: taking toys down to the basement the other day, heirloom quality ones that my daughter has outgrown, thinking: I wonder if we will ever get to use these? If she will travel the same road? Fearing for her. Knowing too much.
Holding on to hope for you, and sending deep breaths and quiet thoughts. I’m sorry that this is a dark place … at least, even if it’s quiet here, I hope you know that you are not alone.
I’m new to this page but am very intrigued to know the story behind your thyroid issues and infertility. Is there a previous post you can link me too? I’ve had three losses and now seemingly unable to get pregnant and the only issue found is my thyroid (tsh was very low but has now shot up to over 5 so we are in the midst of figuring out what’s going on and if its indeed related).
Anyway, congratulations on your pregnancy! I can imagine how difficult it is for you to just relax and enjoy but I hope you can find a way to ease your depression.
Bravo, Keiko. These are hard things to identify internally, and then define, and then say out loud to another person. And then write them down in a coherent fashion. And then POST. It is important to honour every part of the journey because the journey doesn’t end. The journey is life. Infertility is a part of your life, though perhaps a more amorphous part at present.
I could write endlessly on this topic. But I want to say this… there is physical resolution and there is emotional resolution. While the road to physical resolution (once you are firmly, safely on it) may be linear, the emotional resolution is much more fluid. It ebbs and flows. It goes into remission and flares up. You and I have both used the analogy of a scar before to describe this. The wound will not always be there, but the scar will be. The memory. It will fade, but it will catch your eye sometimes, and other times it will itch and burn like a motherf*cker too.
It is real. It is legitimate. It is yours.
We are all in this transition. We live in fear but tell each other not to. I hope you are able to find your footing again and we are here when you make your way back to us. Supporting you through it whenever we can.
Oh, I so feel you. Not to make you feel unoriginal at all, but you’re describing so, so much of my own pregnancy, and I’ve seen this same story play out many times before for many others. These liminal spaces are HARD. IF and loss present a real need to tap in, hard, to a supportive community like we have here in the greater ALI blogosphere, and tapping in comes with a lot of group acceptance and adopting labels and even squabbles over semantics and subcategories. When your life is dominated by an extremely emotionally, spiritually, physically and medically devastating event like the ongoing experience of infertility, loss, and/or reproductive disease, those moments feel so much like a part of you that you’re stuck with that at least you can find shelter in a community that “gets it.” That’s part of the safety of this script, in a way– it’s familiar. Your particular anxieties, fears, cautious joys, and the dark scary place that your brain jumps to when it’s been more than ten minutes without concrete proof– the flutter of movement, the whooshing Doppler– it’s all been done by so many before you, and it needs a space in our community. PAIL was built around this experience to be its home because yes, it is real and it is very very present for so many people, and sometimes it needs both a voice in the general group AND a home base where you can really explore those feelings safely. And by the way, those labels that we stick all over ourselves and cling so ferociously to? They change constantly! Just ask anyone who’s been through IF with #1 and then got pregnant unexpectedly with #2 after being told it’s physically impossible. Why do I know so many people to whom this has happened??? It’s a mindfuck, pardon my Russian.
Pregnancy isn’t the arrival, anyways. It’s not an endpoint. Even with infertility taken out of the equation, pregnancy is only even a temporary and transitional state for ANYONE. I never felt I’d hit that “other side” when I was pregnant, and I don’t feel I’ve hit it now as a mom, either. We still want more kids and I have no freakin’ CLUE how infertility might affect that part of our journey. Besides, I’ve yet to find that feeling of the stoppage of motion with regards to any part of my life, IF or not– nothing is settled. We’re in constant flux as a family and becoming a mom and not completely losing myself in it has my identity in flux, too. So I don’t feel “resolved” in any way. I don’t know. Maybe when I’m far past the age of having any potential to bear or want more children? But IF will always be a part of me. It’s my tattoo on the inside.
I promise you this: parenting offers no resolution, either. Just wait until the first time you tell someone your two-month-old “sleeps great!” and then boom, you have a six-month-old who sleeps NEEEEVEEEEEER and you tell everyone how miserable you are, and then your nine-month-old is BACK ON TRACK which is awesome until she is fourteen months old *headdesk* Seriously. Babies don’t even want you to describe them to anyone without the potential to make a complete ass out of yourself!
In other news… ENJOY YOUR VACATION! We went on vacation for my birthday three years ago as a bit of a birthday present/honeymoon-we-never-had/break from treatments and stress and two months later I got pregnant! By the time our “vacation anniversary” rolled around we had two two-month-olds. Life be cray, y’all.
IMHO, one of the biggest myths about infertility is that it gets resolved in a neat or tidy fashion. If only.
In reality, we each come to terms with it in our own time and in our own way. Just as there are many contributing factors to infertility there are still more factors influencing how we find our way forward. There is no shortcut and no right answer that suits everyone.. What I do know is that our coping skills improve. We build and tap new reservoirs of strength with each day that we acknowledge how our infertility experience changed us and how we relate to others,
I don’t know if those feelings ever go away. My younger one is almost 3, and still, I feel the lingering effects of the struggle we went through to have them. I still think about it, and I can’t tell you why since we’re done building our family. Also, I have noticed that I worry about the pregnancies of loved ones far more than I suspect is normal. I think it happens when you’re all too familiar with all of the ways things can go wrong. I’m not sure there’s any helping that. Simply put, pregnancy after infertility (despite infertility?) can really f*ck with your head. It certainly did with mine. That said, I think InDueTime’s advice is really sound: savor the moment. What more can you do than that?
Also, I will be in Disney in 2 weeks, too! SO excited.
With you as you transition through. And just sending love — change is hard, growth is hard, and sometimes, it’s not even that: LIFE is hard. Take the time you need.
The bad and good thing about being apart of the infertility is that we get to see the good and the bad stories. We celebrate the happy endings and mourn the losses with our fellow infertile brothers and sisters.
And then, when we finally do get pregnant, it’s no wonder we worry the whole time, because the stakes get higher and higher as each day, week, and month passes. The closer we get to the finish line, the more we have to lose..
It’s so hard to not feel excited when we know so many friends who have experienced such losses even after fighting so hard.
We just have to remind ourselves to savor the moment. We’ve made it this far. We can’t control tomorrow, but for today, for this moment, savor it all.
You’ve come so far Keiko. We’re all rooting for you.
Infertility is a beast of a road.
infertility community ^^^