I was reminded recently of something that happened during the preparations for my first IVF cycle, so long ago now. The nurse was going over my schedule with me, and explained that my menstrual cycle would have to sync up with the "on" weeks for the IVF lab. "After this date," she stated with utmost confidence, "we will take control of your body and your cycle." I remember being very impressed with this idea. The doctor would take control of my recalcitrant reproductive system, and my problems would soon be solved! Boy, was I naive. My RE spent the next couple of years trying to "take control" of my cycle, and my body fought back. Eventually, even he had to admit defeat.
All of this made me feel pretty awful and did not do great things for my self-esteem. It was only later that I realized that I was not alone in having a body that didn't respond to medications in the typical way. In retrospect, I think it would have been helpful if someone told me this in advance, which is why I'm telling you now--expect delays because your body won't "cooperate". Cysts happen. Late periods happen. Lead follicles happen. Cancelled cycles happen. They happen all the time, and it doesn't mean that you are doing anything wrong, or even that treatment won't eventually work for you. It just means that infertility treatment is part art along with the science involved. That IVF schedule the doctor's office gives you is really all just a big guess about what they would like to happen. Expect that your real life cycle might be very different.
Thanks for reading, and come back tomorrow for more tips for surviving infertility treatment!
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
Top tips for surviving infertility treatment: Day One
I hope everyone is starting off 2013 well. I apologize for not having more new posts up lately. I seem to have gotten swollowed up with the business that comes with the holidays, the end of the year, and the many viruses floating around the Chicagoland area. To jump start myself back into writing more regularly, I thought I would try posting each day for the next ten days, albeit shorter posts. Each day during this period, I will be discussing strategies for getting through infertility treatment with some vestiges of your sanity intact.
Today's tip: Manage your "infertility relationships".
Relationships are one of the most important aspects to surviving infertility treatment, especially when it comes to your treatment providers. When someone feels their doctor, nurse or clinic is on their do side, they can weather a lot of turbulence in their treatment cycle. On the other hand, I've seen treatment cycles nearly being driven off the rails by a rude receptionist or a mistake made in the medical billing office.
Now, I know that you are probably paying that doctor or clinic a lot of money, so you might think that they should be be the one to manage the relationship too, right? I don't disagree with that, but the reality of the situation is that many doctors and clinics are very busy and are not always aware of the emotional subtleties involved. In order for you to get the most out of your treatment, you may need to take this role on for yourself.
Thus, I think it important to think about each staff member involved in your case. What role do they play? What do you need from then in order to feel comfortable and supported? Then, ask yourself if you think it will be easy to get what you need from this staff member. If so, great. If not, however, then you need to make a little assessment of the personality of the person in question, and try to figure out what would be the most effective strategy for getting what you need. Sometimes, you just need to take the emotion out of the situation for a second and just look at things from an operational perspective.
Once you have your strategy, you will reduce the element of surprise (at least unpleasant surprise) and you will be more able to immediately employ your strategy and improve the situation.
Let me know what you think, and look back tomorrow for more tips!
Today's tip: Manage your "infertility relationships".
Relationships are one of the most important aspects to surviving infertility treatment, especially when it comes to your treatment providers. When someone feels their doctor, nurse or clinic is on their do side, they can weather a lot of turbulence in their treatment cycle. On the other hand, I've seen treatment cycles nearly being driven off the rails by a rude receptionist or a mistake made in the medical billing office.
Now, I know that you are probably paying that doctor or clinic a lot of money, so you might think that they should be be the one to manage the relationship too, right? I don't disagree with that, but the reality of the situation is that many doctors and clinics are very busy and are not always aware of the emotional subtleties involved. In order for you to get the most out of your treatment, you may need to take this role on for yourself.
Thus, I think it important to think about each staff member involved in your case. What role do they play? What do you need from then in order to feel comfortable and supported? Then, ask yourself if you think it will be easy to get what you need from this staff member. If so, great. If not, however, then you need to make a little assessment of the personality of the person in question, and try to figure out what would be the most effective strategy for getting what you need. Sometimes, you just need to take the emotion out of the situation for a second and just look at things from an operational perspective.
Once you have your strategy, you will reduce the element of surprise (at least unpleasant surprise) and you will be more able to immediately employ your strategy and improve the situation.
Let me know what you think, and look back tomorrow for more tips!
Friday, December 14, 2012
Infertility treatment, and being social pioneers
Recently, I had occasion to listen to the famous semi-autobiographical book Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I hadn't read the book in over thirty years, and it was interesting to come back to it again from the perspective of an adult. As a child, I took in the Ingalls' adventures and travails as they settled in Kansas at face value. As an adult, I couldn't help being a bit shocked by all the chances that "Pa" took with the lives and the fortunes of his family. Luckily, most things turned out alright in the end, but there were certainly many instances in which disaster was a likely possibility. As I listened to the book, one thing became clear to me: I would have made a lousy pioneer, because I am naturally risk-adverse, and I don't feel lucky.
And yet, it also occurred to me that because of my medical condition of infertility, I became a social pioneer without really thinking about it. By creating a family through international adoption and IVF, my husband and I essentially got the covered wagon ready and started heading west. We aren't alone, as there are many in a similar situation. But the social territory in this new land has yet to be fully settled. Also, even as we try to put down our roots, the terrain keeps changing, making it difficult to feel secure, and competent in this new land.
For instance, when we adopted our daughter, now ten, from India, it was in the height of a wave of international adoption from a number of countries, such as Russia, China, and Guatemala. At the time, we lived on a street with four other internationally adopted children. Whenever I went to the doctor's office or grocery store, I almost always saw other families built through international adoption. Because the world of international adoption has changed so much, I almost never see babies or young children adopted from other countries anymore. It seems odd to me that there was a large generation of children who found their families in this way, and yet now, there is only a small one to follow them.
In my opinion, the changes in international adoption, and the declining US birthrate in terms of babies available for domestic adoption, have pushed more prospective parents in the direction of third-party reproduction. I was once interviewed by Scott Simon, the NPR journalist who wrote an excellent book on adoption. During the interview, he asked me which I thought would "win"--adoption or infertility treatment. I responded that I thought that due to the changes in circumstances, infertility treatment had already "won". I got the sense he didn't like my answer very much, but the fact remains that there are more babies being born with the help of egg donors, sperm donors, and gestational carriers than ever before. I can't help but wonder what this will be like for this new generation of children in terms of their psychological and social identity.
Much has been made of the problems that these children will encounter because of their often unknown genetic origins. Because the stories of their beginnings are different from the the norm, it is assumed that these children will encounter problems. And perhaps that may be. After all, there is a certain reality to the situation--these children may not have access to genetic information, may look different than their parents, and have come to be via different means.
The thing is, though, that in the end, societal viewpoints and norms are plastic. They change over time, and in response to events and situations. People define them, and they change them.
As infertility pioneers, it seems to me that we have a good opportunity to help redefine social norms and values in this regard. Why can't we help shape what all this means for ourselves, and for the children of the IVF generation? Instead of just reacting to others' negative opinions, we can put forth our positive opinions instead. For instance, just because something is different, it doesn't mean that it is bad. Perhaps the differences actually just make things more interesting.
Of course, by the time we really accomplish all this, I predict the landscape of infertility will change again. I believe that the donor egg/sperm era is but a temporary one. Science is advancing at a rapid rate, and I think that in my lifetime, scientists will discover a way to revitalize damaged eggs and sperm or restart their production. Then we will have a whole new set of issues with which to struggle.
Such was the case with the Ingalls family in Little House on the Prairie. After spending an arduous year building a homestead on the Kansas prairie, the family learns they must leave their farm because they settled 3 miles over the boundary into Indian Territory. All of their hard work and investment was lost. On the way back East, the family encountered a lone wagon stranded on the prairie. The couple inside had lost their horses to horse thieves, but refused the Ingalls' family offer of a ride into town because they didn't want to leave their worldly possessions behind. As the Ingalls family rides away, Pa comments that the couple are "tenderfeet"--they didn't use chains to tie up their horses, preventing their theft, and they had no watchdog to watch over their things. Even though Pa had made a huge mistake in picking the wrong spot to settle, he had still learned a great deal about life on the prairie.
And so have those of us dealing and struggling with infertility. Although our landscape will most certainly change, I hope that we can use our knowledge and experiences to change things and make it easier for those who will follow after us.
And yet, it also occurred to me that because of my medical condition of infertility, I became a social pioneer without really thinking about it. By creating a family through international adoption and IVF, my husband and I essentially got the covered wagon ready and started heading west. We aren't alone, as there are many in a similar situation. But the social territory in this new land has yet to be fully settled. Also, even as we try to put down our roots, the terrain keeps changing, making it difficult to feel secure, and competent in this new land.
For instance, when we adopted our daughter, now ten, from India, it was in the height of a wave of international adoption from a number of countries, such as Russia, China, and Guatemala. At the time, we lived on a street with four other internationally adopted children. Whenever I went to the doctor's office or grocery store, I almost always saw other families built through international adoption. Because the world of international adoption has changed so much, I almost never see babies or young children adopted from other countries anymore. It seems odd to me that there was a large generation of children who found their families in this way, and yet now, there is only a small one to follow them.
In my opinion, the changes in international adoption, and the declining US birthrate in terms of babies available for domestic adoption, have pushed more prospective parents in the direction of third-party reproduction. I was once interviewed by Scott Simon, the NPR journalist who wrote an excellent book on adoption. During the interview, he asked me which I thought would "win"--adoption or infertility treatment. I responded that I thought that due to the changes in circumstances, infertility treatment had already "won". I got the sense he didn't like my answer very much, but the fact remains that there are more babies being born with the help of egg donors, sperm donors, and gestational carriers than ever before. I can't help but wonder what this will be like for this new generation of children in terms of their psychological and social identity.
Much has been made of the problems that these children will encounter because of their often unknown genetic origins. Because the stories of their beginnings are different from the the norm, it is assumed that these children will encounter problems. And perhaps that may be. After all, there is a certain reality to the situation--these children may not have access to genetic information, may look different than their parents, and have come to be via different means.
The thing is, though, that in the end, societal viewpoints and norms are plastic. They change over time, and in response to events and situations. People define them, and they change them.
As infertility pioneers, it seems to me that we have a good opportunity to help redefine social norms and values in this regard. Why can't we help shape what all this means for ourselves, and for the children of the IVF generation? Instead of just reacting to others' negative opinions, we can put forth our positive opinions instead. For instance, just because something is different, it doesn't mean that it is bad. Perhaps the differences actually just make things more interesting.
Of course, by the time we really accomplish all this, I predict the landscape of infertility will change again. I believe that the donor egg/sperm era is but a temporary one. Science is advancing at a rapid rate, and I think that in my lifetime, scientists will discover a way to revitalize damaged eggs and sperm or restart their production. Then we will have a whole new set of issues with which to struggle.
Such was the case with the Ingalls family in Little House on the Prairie. After spending an arduous year building a homestead on the Kansas prairie, the family learns they must leave their farm because they settled 3 miles over the boundary into Indian Territory. All of their hard work and investment was lost. On the way back East, the family encountered a lone wagon stranded on the prairie. The couple inside had lost their horses to horse thieves, but refused the Ingalls' family offer of a ride into town because they didn't want to leave their worldly possessions behind. As the Ingalls family rides away, Pa comments that the couple are "tenderfeet"--they didn't use chains to tie up their horses, preventing their theft, and they had no watchdog to watch over their things. Even though Pa had made a huge mistake in picking the wrong spot to settle, he had still learned a great deal about life on the prairie.
And so have those of us dealing and struggling with infertility. Although our landscape will most certainly change, I hope that we can use our knowledge and experiences to change things and make it easier for those who will follow after us.
Friday, November 16, 2012
The fantasy of closure in infertility treatment
By the time a person enters into infertility treatment, they have already experienced a significant loss in terms of their expectations of having a family. They have had to come to grips with the fact that they could not start their family the "normal" way, without medical intervention. However, for some infertility patients, this is just the beginning of a journey that involves numerous losses, disappointments, and other twists and turns. Every once in a while, the reality of the situation is revealed quickly and definitively; for most, however, the real nature of the problem only becomes clearer in slow motion--one failed treatment at a time. To me, it's like freefalling down through space on an elevator, but agonizingly slowly, but without any idea of where the bottom floor is.
This is one reason that infertility wreaks such havoc with our emotional life. While it's going on, it can feel like a constant stream of torture, filled with the worst kind of suspense. Hope alternates with fear and despair, and of course, there is no definitive ending that can be reliably predicted. Time seems to slow down to a standstill. When looking at others' lives, I can see that these things do come to an end, and usually happily so; but while I was myself living in the midst of it, I had no confidence that those days would ever be done. I try to share this with my clients, that their struggle will most likely end, and happily so too; and while I am always thanked for my reassurance, I think I am very rarely believed.
Although many problems do tend to resolve themselves over time, infertility is not usually one of them. To overcome it, you have to actively address the problem, and this is even more difficult when you don't know exactly what the problem is. Many times, we never really get true clarity, and are forced to guess, making finding a solution difficult. We usually don't have unlimited time, money, or treatment options. Plus, as described above, we are usually in an emotionally upset and fatigued state when we must make these incredibly important decisions.
Thus, many of us find ourselves in situations where we cannot know what the best course of action would be--and yet we must, in spite of this, act anyway. As my grandfather used to say, "You pays your money and you takes your choice!" Whether it ends up to be a good or bad choice is many times also impossible to determine. You may have embarked on exactly the right course of treatment for yourself, and it could still fail, just due to bad luck that time around. Or not. Too often, there is just no way to know.
All of these observations lead me to the conclusion that that because of the many unknowable variables inherent in infertility treatment, true closure is frequently impossible to obtain. I have heard many clients long for this closure, understandably feeling that this would help them get over their trauma and losses, and move on with their lives. However, the frequent impossibility of obtaining closure is yet another one of the traumas and losses those struggling with infertility may have to experience. Thus, sometimes we have to give up our quest for explanations, diagnoses, and certainty, because otherwise we will become even more exhausted and depleted.
The good news is that learning to live with this kind of ambiguity is a skill, and it can be learned. It's not only helpful with dealing with infertility; life is full of situations that present little clarity, logic or fairness. The key to to getting over something without clear closure is to accept that you are always going to have some sad and angry feelings about the situation. Over time, these feelings will dim in intensity, and they will not unduly interfere with your life. Too often in our culture, I think we feel a pressure not to experience our negative emotions. If we aren't "happy" all of the time, then there is something wrong with us. However, I think this is a fairly American and western concept, and an unrealistic one at that, given the trials and travails that can life can offer. Once we accept that sad and angry feelings are a normal response, and a normal part of life, we don't feel as intense of a need to quell them with explanations and understanding.
This is one reason that infertility wreaks such havoc with our emotional life. While it's going on, it can feel like a constant stream of torture, filled with the worst kind of suspense. Hope alternates with fear and despair, and of course, there is no definitive ending that can be reliably predicted. Time seems to slow down to a standstill. When looking at others' lives, I can see that these things do come to an end, and usually happily so; but while I was myself living in the midst of it, I had no confidence that those days would ever be done. I try to share this with my clients, that their struggle will most likely end, and happily so too; and while I am always thanked for my reassurance, I think I am very rarely believed.
Although many problems do tend to resolve themselves over time, infertility is not usually one of them. To overcome it, you have to actively address the problem, and this is even more difficult when you don't know exactly what the problem is. Many times, we never really get true clarity, and are forced to guess, making finding a solution difficult. We usually don't have unlimited time, money, or treatment options. Plus, as described above, we are usually in an emotionally upset and fatigued state when we must make these incredibly important decisions.
Thus, many of us find ourselves in situations where we cannot know what the best course of action would be--and yet we must, in spite of this, act anyway. As my grandfather used to say, "You pays your money and you takes your choice!" Whether it ends up to be a good or bad choice is many times also impossible to determine. You may have embarked on exactly the right course of treatment for yourself, and it could still fail, just due to bad luck that time around. Or not. Too often, there is just no way to know.
All of these observations lead me to the conclusion that that because of the many unknowable variables inherent in infertility treatment, true closure is frequently impossible to obtain. I have heard many clients long for this closure, understandably feeling that this would help them get over their trauma and losses, and move on with their lives. However, the frequent impossibility of obtaining closure is yet another one of the traumas and losses those struggling with infertility may have to experience. Thus, sometimes we have to give up our quest for explanations, diagnoses, and certainty, because otherwise we will become even more exhausted and depleted.
The good news is that learning to live with this kind of ambiguity is a skill, and it can be learned. It's not only helpful with dealing with infertility; life is full of situations that present little clarity, logic or fairness. The key to to getting over something without clear closure is to accept that you are always going to have some sad and angry feelings about the situation. Over time, these feelings will dim in intensity, and they will not unduly interfere with your life. Too often in our culture, I think we feel a pressure not to experience our negative emotions. If we aren't "happy" all of the time, then there is something wrong with us. However, I think this is a fairly American and western concept, and an unrealistic one at that, given the trials and travails that can life can offer. Once we accept that sad and angry feelings are a normal response, and a normal part of life, we don't feel as intense of a need to quell them with explanations and understanding.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
The aftermath: The effects of infertility once the dust settles
I often hear from clients in the midst of a battle with infertility that they can't wait for their children to come so they can "just put this thing behind" them. I suppose some people, perhaps who are more skilled at this denial than myself, may be able to do so--but the majority of us find that our infertility is something that we simply can't leave behind. Even if our infertility is eventually resolved in a manner we feel good about, it still has long-reaching effects in our lives.
As an experiment, this week I tried to keep track of the different ways my own personal infertility came up even though our family is (finally!) complete. Here's what I discovered:
1. Having to tell the nurse at our pediatrician's office (again) that I don't know my adopted daughter's birth family's medical history.
2. Fending off questions from a neighbor about whether I had used infertility treatments and/or donor eggs in the procurement of our youngest child, who is one year old, due to my elderly age.
3. Having to justify to the school principal and school administration officials why my middle daughter should be "grandfathered" in and not have to lottery in to gain admission to her older sister's school, as they are "too far" apart in age. Luckily, the school officials didn't really want to deal with my argument that because of my medical problems, I couldn't control the age spacing of my children, and they agreed to let her in the school.
4. Listening with incredulity to the story of a woman who managed to get pregnant twice while faithfully taking birth control pills.
To me, I think that's a pretty typical week. Even if I wanted to "put it behind" me, the world has a way of bringing it right back around to the forefront.
I don't think my experiences in this regard are atypical, either. I am frequently struck by women telling me, that despite the many traumas they may have experienced, their infertility is the problems that still continues to haunt them.
Thus, although wanting to put infertility into the past is an understandable wish, it may not be a realistic expectation. My personal recommendation is that it may be better off to expect that infertility will continue to be an issue, although hopefully in a less urgent and intense manner. That way, when you get the insensitive questions or difficult situations, at least you won't be surprised, disappointed, or filled with self-blame.
As an experiment, this week I tried to keep track of the different ways my own personal infertility came up even though our family is (finally!) complete. Here's what I discovered:
1. Having to tell the nurse at our pediatrician's office (again) that I don't know my adopted daughter's birth family's medical history.
2. Fending off questions from a neighbor about whether I had used infertility treatments and/or donor eggs in the procurement of our youngest child, who is one year old, due to my elderly age.
3. Having to justify to the school principal and school administration officials why my middle daughter should be "grandfathered" in and not have to lottery in to gain admission to her older sister's school, as they are "too far" apart in age. Luckily, the school officials didn't really want to deal with my argument that because of my medical problems, I couldn't control the age spacing of my children, and they agreed to let her in the school.
4. Listening with incredulity to the story of a woman who managed to get pregnant twice while faithfully taking birth control pills.
To me, I think that's a pretty typical week. Even if I wanted to "put it behind" me, the world has a way of bringing it right back around to the forefront.
I don't think my experiences in this regard are atypical, either. I am frequently struck by women telling me, that despite the many traumas they may have experienced, their infertility is the problems that still continues to haunt them.
Thus, although wanting to put infertility into the past is an understandable wish, it may not be a realistic expectation. My personal recommendation is that it may be better off to expect that infertility will continue to be an issue, although hopefully in a less urgent and intense manner. That way, when you get the insensitive questions or difficult situations, at least you won't be surprised, disappointed, or filled with self-blame.
Friday, October 19, 2012
"Fertility envy", infertility and friendships
I came across this article about "fertility envy", written from the perspective of a woman without fertility issues who felt hurt and isolated when her closest friends distanced themselves during her pregnancy. The author describes feeling disappointed and dismayed when her friends, who had not yet disclosed their infertility struggles, did not react with excitement to her pregnancy announcement. As her pregnancy progressed, she felt increasingly isolated and unable to talk about her pregnancy and preparations for her children. Instead, she felt burdened by having to spend time talking about her friends' infertility treatments. In the end, she found herself spending more time with her friends who already had children or who were not interested in having children, and grew apart from her friends with infertility.
For me, the article stirred up a myriad of feelings. On the one hand, I guess I couldn't help experiencing a little bit of "fertility envy" myself--after all, the author had no problems conceiving and carrying beautiful twin girls. Is it fair of her to be upset that her infertile friends, because of their own pain, couldn't be as excited about her pregnancy as she was? On the other hand, though, it was an interesting perspective, and one that as a therapist specializing in infertility, I don't often hear. I suspect that many friends of mine may have felt similarly during their own pregnancies, but I don't think they would have ever felt comfortable admitting it to me.
I believe that disruptions in friendship and family relationships are one of the most painful aspects of infertility. It seems that they are incredibly common and perhaps unavoidable. However, what I find makes a pregnancy a "fatal blow" to a relationship is a preexisting problem in the relationship prior to the pregnancy. Once a pregnancy occurs, the issue surfaces, and because emotions are so high, the issue is usually unable to be resolved. For instance, in the article mentioned above, the author only learned upon disclosure of her own pregnancy that her friend had been struggling to conceive for three years. To me, the fact that her allegedly closest friend did not feel comfortable sharing this with her prior to her pregnancy announcement was a sign that her friend was already having mixed feelings about the relationship. It is also interesting that the author turned out to have several friends undergoing infertility treatment at the same time, none of whom shared this with her. Rather than bemoaning the fact that her friends weren't available to her, she might be better served questioning why people she felt close to didn't feel comfortable opening up to her. In a sense, what she really discovered is that her former friendships weren't really all that close anyway, and thus they were unable to withstand the emotional pressure of her pregnancy.
Much has been written about the difficulties that individuals struggling with infertility have when their friends and family members become pregnant. I agree that this is often very difficult, but I think much of the difficulty comes from the attitude and expectations of the pregnant persons involved. The pregnant person's reactions usually fall in one of two camps: either their is complete insensitivity to the feelings of the infertile person, or their is a high level of guilt and oversensitivity, which can then become burdensome for the infertile person to manage.
Last year I had a relatively unique experience in this regard when I became pregnant (as a result of a frozen transfer from a prior IVF) somewhat unexpectedly, in the midst of working with several clients struggling with their own infertility. I must say I was repeatedly impressed with how well my clients handled my pregnancy. Perhaps knowing my long history of infertility, I got a "pass", but I think it had more to do with my willingness to understand and tolerate the fact that they would have negative feelings about my pregnancy, and that I didn't expect them to be excited for me. In my own personal life, when I was embroiled in IVF, I found that I was able to tolerate, and to some extent enjoy the pregnancies of friends who understood that I was going to have my own feelings about it. It helped that they listened to my feelings when I brought them up, but didn't force me to talk about it when I didn't.
As for the author's feelings of pregnancy isolation, I find this hard to believe. It seems that our culture worships pregnancy and its related rituals and material goods, so it seems nearly impossible to me that she couldn't have found other women (other than the old lady in the checkout line) that would have been excited to share in her experiences with her.
I am curious to hear what your experiences with pregnant friends or family members and "infertility envy" have been. Where there responses or attitudes that you found helpful, or that were less than ideal?
As always, thank you for reading, and please feel free to contact me with any questions or suggestions!
For me, the article stirred up a myriad of feelings. On the one hand, I guess I couldn't help experiencing a little bit of "fertility envy" myself--after all, the author had no problems conceiving and carrying beautiful twin girls. Is it fair of her to be upset that her infertile friends, because of their own pain, couldn't be as excited about her pregnancy as she was? On the other hand, though, it was an interesting perspective, and one that as a therapist specializing in infertility, I don't often hear. I suspect that many friends of mine may have felt similarly during their own pregnancies, but I don't think they would have ever felt comfortable admitting it to me.
I believe that disruptions in friendship and family relationships are one of the most painful aspects of infertility. It seems that they are incredibly common and perhaps unavoidable. However, what I find makes a pregnancy a "fatal blow" to a relationship is a preexisting problem in the relationship prior to the pregnancy. Once a pregnancy occurs, the issue surfaces, and because emotions are so high, the issue is usually unable to be resolved. For instance, in the article mentioned above, the author only learned upon disclosure of her own pregnancy that her friend had been struggling to conceive for three years. To me, the fact that her allegedly closest friend did not feel comfortable sharing this with her prior to her pregnancy announcement was a sign that her friend was already having mixed feelings about the relationship. It is also interesting that the author turned out to have several friends undergoing infertility treatment at the same time, none of whom shared this with her. Rather than bemoaning the fact that her friends weren't available to her, she might be better served questioning why people she felt close to didn't feel comfortable opening up to her. In a sense, what she really discovered is that her former friendships weren't really all that close anyway, and thus they were unable to withstand the emotional pressure of her pregnancy.
Much has been written about the difficulties that individuals struggling with infertility have when their friends and family members become pregnant. I agree that this is often very difficult, but I think much of the difficulty comes from the attitude and expectations of the pregnant persons involved. The pregnant person's reactions usually fall in one of two camps: either their is complete insensitivity to the feelings of the infertile person, or their is a high level of guilt and oversensitivity, which can then become burdensome for the infertile person to manage.
Last year I had a relatively unique experience in this regard when I became pregnant (as a result of a frozen transfer from a prior IVF) somewhat unexpectedly, in the midst of working with several clients struggling with their own infertility. I must say I was repeatedly impressed with how well my clients handled my pregnancy. Perhaps knowing my long history of infertility, I got a "pass", but I think it had more to do with my willingness to understand and tolerate the fact that they would have negative feelings about my pregnancy, and that I didn't expect them to be excited for me. In my own personal life, when I was embroiled in IVF, I found that I was able to tolerate, and to some extent enjoy the pregnancies of friends who understood that I was going to have my own feelings about it. It helped that they listened to my feelings when I brought them up, but didn't force me to talk about it when I didn't.
As for the author's feelings of pregnancy isolation, I find this hard to believe. It seems that our culture worships pregnancy and its related rituals and material goods, so it seems nearly impossible to me that she couldn't have found other women (other than the old lady in the checkout line) that would have been excited to share in her experiences with her.
I am curious to hear what your experiences with pregnant friends or family members and "infertility envy" have been. Where there responses or attitudes that you found helpful, or that were less than ideal?
As always, thank you for reading, and please feel free to contact me with any questions or suggestions!
Sunday, October 7, 2012
The September curse
If you are reading this post, I hope you are well and have had a great month. Unfortunately, it's been a challenging month for my family in terms of medical problems. At beginning of September, my son became acutely ill and required hospitalization for several days. That was followed by a long but ultimately successful recovery at home, after which he caught some sort of horrible virus and was quite sick for another ten days or so. In the meantime, there have been broken hands and sprained ankle, and today's arrival, a family case of stomach flu.
I can't think of a time since I was in throes of infertility treatment that I have had such a hard time doing what needs to get done, and consequently I haven't had the time or mental energy to post anything for the last month. However, as soon as I and everyone else around here recover from this latest virus, I plan to be posting regurlarly again!s
Take care everyone and check back soon! In the meantime, I wish you much luck and success on your road to having your family!
I can't think of a time since I was in throes of infertility treatment that I have had such a hard time doing what needs to get done, and consequently I haven't had the time or mental energy to post anything for the last month. However, as soon as I and everyone else around here recover from this latest virus, I plan to be posting regurlarly again!s
Take care everyone and check back soon! In the meantime, I wish you much luck and success on your road to having your family!
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