B: “Listen to the sound of defeat in your voice.”
T: “Might have something to do with the fact that I’ve been defeated.”*

I feel defeated.  I feel like I failed.  Intellectually, I know that that is not true, that I have a medical condition which has prevented me from getting pg.  That even if we did go on to IUI or IVF that I am only buying the possibility of getting pg, not the pg itself.  I know that there is nothing that I did, or did not, do that has placed me where I am.  But emotionally, none of that makes any difference.  I still feel like a failure.

I feel guilty.  Last week, when Manly told me that he was thinking about stopping trying permanently, my immediate emotion (before my internal filters kicked in) was relief.  Relief that we don’t have to do this anymore, that the bloodwork and doctor’s appointments and forced sex were all going to stop, that the cycles of hope and disappointment and sadness would end.  Almost before I could admit that to myself, the guilt reflex kicked in — guilt that I felt happy about stopping, like maybe I wasn’t pg because I didn’t want it enough, that I didn’t deserveto have a baby.  If that doesn’t illustrate what a shitty headspace dealing with IF will put you in, I don’t know what will.

I feel damaged.  It’s like my heart and soul have been bruised.  I want to retreat for a while from anything that might cause me more pain.  Right now, a song on the radio, a baby in the store, being in the same freaking room with my husband will make me start crying.  A whisper of emotion, good or bad, is enough to bring me to tears.  It feels as if all of this emotion has been bottled up inside of me, that I’ve been carrying all the tears around for a long time.  But it feels cathartic to get it out. Each time I cry, I feel a little more of the load lifting away.  I feel a little stronger, a little more competent.  Maybe if I cry it all out, I’ll be able to get back to the place where I’m strong enough to deal with life again.

In spite of all that, I feel as though I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now.  I know that the intensity of these emotions is only temporary.  I know that as time passes, it will get easier.  That the other aspects of my life will resume their proper balance, and that IF will become just a piece of who I am, rather than my defining characteristic.  Now, it’s just a matter of getting through the tunnel to reach the end…


*Ah, this is one of the greats.  I can’t give you the characters’ names, because that would totally tell you the movie.  But there are two people speaking here.  Movie title for 15 points.


14 thoughts on “Transitioning

  1. Rocky Balboa and his trainer Mickey in Rocky II?

    I already emailed you about this, but please take care, and don’t be gone too long.

    You are not alone. You are loved.

  2. I posted something about this on my blog a while back. I met a 52 year old woman who TTC for a long time starting when she was 32. She and her husband decided to stop. And although it was so hard for so long, she is one of the most fulfilled and happy people I know. And she is convinced that she was not able to have children for a reason – her life is so perfect the way it is. I know that this may not be comforting to you now, but I have to say, when I talked to her about it, it made me feel better. That maybe, some how, if I can’t have kids, I will get there someday too.

  3. Mallrats (1995)?

    You are strong love, I’ve said it before. Only the strongest could even thing of putting it all on hold as you have. that takes courage not many have.


  4. You’re wise to explore your feelings — get it all out there… but do know that you’re not a failure any more than people who accidentally fall pregnant are to be held up as successes. Life throws us many curve balls and it’s within our power to decide each step of the way how we want to respond to them. You are an immensely talented woman and sweet soul. We need MORE people like you.

  5. Sharah, I have said it before, your strength and courage inspire me. You truly are my hero. To have the strength and courage to drop everything even for just a while speaks volumes. You are loved, and will be missed, and I hope you decide to stay even if your blog turns into a non IF blog.

  6. Breaks are good. Do what you and Manly need to do, and don’t worry about anyone else. Something about the IF process doesn’t allow much time for healing. The end result is that all the injuries leave you feeling raw. Take care, and take time.

  7. mallrats?

    the tears can be so cleansing….
    i don’t really know what to say other than i’m sure you and Manly will do what you two need to do….and that you will do so with more courage and strength than i could hope to muster.

  8. I’m sorry you are going through the low part of the IF trench. The good news is that what goes down, must come back up. 🙂
    I wish you didn’t have to decide to take a break, but to be perfectly honest, my 3 month break from treatment (though practically forced) was incredibly healing. It allowed me to breathe again, regroup, and find my bearings again. I hope your break allows you this and then some.

  9. Thanks for the visit and yes I think we are in a very similar place. If you don’t mind, I’d like to check in on you every so often :).

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