It has taken me a while to come to terms with IVF 1. I am finally in an okay place about that. I have realised that I actually grieved my early miscarriage and had all the accompanying emotions. First, sadness. Then Anger. Disbelief followed that. And finally, acceptance. I still feel a pang every now and then. That is to be expected.
In the meantime, there have been two pregnancy announcements in my family. Both unplanned (obviously), one a bit of a shock. After those two pregnancies were announced so soon after my biochemical pregnancy, I felt like I was being flung into a nightmare from which there was no escape. Like some kind of horror movie where I am not allowed to cover my eyes in the scary parts. Just as you find courage when facing fears you never thought you could face, I discovered a strength in me that I never knew I had, and have been able to overcome those feelings. Feelings like hurt, jealousy, anger, resentment and pure despair. It’s no-one else’s fault that I feel these things: they only serve to highlight feelings that were there all along.
We, those of us battling fertility problems, can’t afford to be weak, and to give up. We have to be tenacious, to keep trying despite ourselves, and always hope. My friend made a comment to me a few days ago that I have changed from all of this. She was mourning the “old” me. I was a bit hurt by this comment, but later realised that she was partly right. Only, the old me is alive and well. The old me is still here, but with many new facets, like a rough stone that has been cut and polished. The value of that stone is much greater once it becomes a diamond. But don’t forget where that diamond came from. We are all diamonds, shaped by our tragedies, misfortunes and our will to keep going. We are still the same stones, but we have been transformed, our diamond cutter’s name: Infertility.
I am proud of who I am and the things I have become. I may not always be cheerful and carefree, but I am still me. I may not always jump with glee at the news of someone else’s pregnancy, but deep down I still wish them well, and feel happy for them to experience all the things that I long for. I may cry, but out of those tears comes empathy, and determination that I never had before. I love more deeply, cry harder, have a profound appreciation, and my heart has grown to accommodate all of those I have met along the way. I don’t wish infertility on my worst enemy, but wish that they knew some of the unlikely gifts that it has given to me.