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Infertility's Roller Coaster
Struggling with infertility is like riding on a roller coaster. First you must admit you want to do it. Making that decision doesn't feel very logical. Next you muster up enough courage to get started. When you're finally ready to start, you find a waiting line preventing you from beginning. Then you discover the cost is more than you planned to spend.
You have to be willing to relinquish control to someone whom you probably don't know. You assume that those someones will make no errors. You are required to follow the rules and constraints established by others. You hope the roller coaster you've chosen has passed the rigors of inspection and approval. You are certain that years from now technology will have made some improvements on the whole thing.
Once you've started, it's extremely difficult to stop. You encounter more ups and downs than you'd imagined possible. Each one is met with anticipation, fear, then relief. You wonder if you've made a wise decision. You think there might be only one way to get through it all. You find it impossible to concentrate on anything else while you're proceeding. You know your reactions are being scrutinized by others.
The rushing and power of the momentum prevents you from stopping long enough to catch your breath. Tears easily fill your eyes. You wonder if you're on the road to terror, disaster, or joy. The experience seems a bit easier if you have someone else along with you. You will need hugs as you get bumped and thrown by the jerks you're likely to encounter.
Eventually, with relief, your roller coaster ride ends. You were just about convinced it was endless. You'll be met with welcoming arms. Those who've had a similar ride will share a special camaraderie with you. You're glad you did it instead of avoiding it. You know you'll never forget it. You feel like the roller coaster caused you to lose something along the way. You're not quite clear about whether you chose to go for the ride or whether you got “taken for a ride.”
--Jody Earle
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Lessons About Our Feelings
Struggling through infertility is a rugged, winding path. Having feelings at unfamiliar levels of intenseness becomes routine to us, and we develop a sense of elitism. No one hurts as much; no one wants a baby as much; no one deserves as much; no one suffers as much; no one understands. Our every decision depends on results of charts, drug therapy, or the calendar. The tempo of our life is paced by cycle-to-cycle or birthday-to-birthday. We rarely allow ourselves to hope; it's such a luxury. And when we do hope, it's no joy since we guard it with oppressive caution to protect us from disappointments. We're frequently on the very edge of panic, sometimes calm and often not-so-calm. And what has happened to intimacy during all of this? Where is it? Our intimate moments are shadowed by doctors, charts, timing, and anxiety. How dare they intrude! I learned years ago that in acts of love we should keep our minds free of hassles, your mind being your major sex organ. But now there are intruders.
Somehow, while we're being pummeled with this gamut of feelings, which are stronger than we knew existed, we start getting stronger. We learn that we can care for others and also care for ourselves—not a bad lesson. We learn to again allow rays of hope to court us. We gather information and support, and begin to accept that infertility is forever a part of us, but not forever master of us. We begin to accept our vulnerability and learn how to manage it, to gulp with an extra deep breath when we anticipate those persistent tears. We realize that we can and do learn to cope with whatever life brings to us, no matter what, with help from others. Our bitterness converts into control; we learn to confront and resolve. Some of this resolution may even happen prior to the completion of our infertility work-up. We DO survive it all, and even at times we begin to rejoice at just being the person we are. We begin loving and trusting ourselves and others again. It's a real liberation!
--Jody Earle
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Strategies
I recently had an unexpected reminder of the persistence of infertility. Our son, Evan, keeps assorted toy junk in the bathtub. When I was doing my usual “domestic blitz” prior to the arrival of weekend guests, I removed the toys. The next day, my husband, Brian, surprised me by telling me he missed the comfort of seeing the toys. (I must remind you, although Evan has shared in our lives for three years, he arrived after years of infertility horrors and heartaches, and before we knew of Resolve.) Brian and I are still an infertile couple, and his comment to me reminded me of how infertile couples develop strategies for coping. Although at times our infertility is dormant, that grinding wheel revs up when we least expect it, and our strategies have to work overtime to disperse the mental hobgloblins. Brian was telling me I had taken away one of his coping strategies. And he was reminding me that infertility is a long-lived partner, sometimes lurking in the shadows and sometimes glaring face-to-face.
We all have coping strategies, but we each use different methods. For years I've collected porcelain Hummel figurines, my surrogate children. I dust them and imagine the whimsy the children portray. Also I keep a musical “Happy Apple” in my car. It chimes me back to reality when it rolls as the car rounds corners, lest I forget that our infertility struggle presented us a son. Brian and I have smothered ourselves with activities for kids: Boy Scouts, 4-H, nursery school teaching, Santa at Christmas. We also decided to throw our souls and energies into renovating our old house, a project we thought not fit for young children.
Some people spend their “surplus” money on vacations, cars, and clothes. (Why save it?) Some change jobs, choose new careers, or go back to school. Some raise and/or breed pets; some become avid gardeners. (I'm always fascinated with the prolific houseplants like Mother-of-Thousands or spider plants.) Some try to avoid activities which are likely to be kid-oriented.
I eventually chose to direct my energy toward Resolve leadership. I wanted others to avoid excessive bitterness, suspiciousness, and cynicism as a result of their infertility. I'm convinced that ultimately compassion and empathy truly are by-products of infertility, and that's one reason the Resolve concept is successful.
I'm talking about coping strategies for feelings. Strategies are the referees in the title bout of feelings versus the infertility conflict. You are refining a coping strategy right now. Remember that negative feelings are part of the infertility process, and don't be ashamed of them. Emotions are our genetic heritage—fish swim, frogs croak, and we feel (although we may do both of the others, too!). We can't choose the circumstances which affect our feelings, but we do choose the method we use to handle them.
We need to understand our feelings. Why do certain things make us feel good or bad? Don't try to feel nothing. Instead, develop a strategy that aids your coping. Don't allow your only response to be bitterness. We all feel it, but emotional thumb-sucking is self-defeating and exhausting. Concentrating on your own long range goals will help you cope with the present. Right now are you nurturing the self you will be happy to live with forever? Don't allow infertility to ruin the YOU which you want to be. Cultivate your own effective strategies.
--Jody Earle
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Just Hanging-In-There
“Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there.” -Will Rogers
Most of our lives are jammed with activity. We are sometimes to busy, we might almost forget out infertility struggle. Where is all this busy-ness leading us? Are we doing ourselves a favor by spending time just hanging-in-there? I'm reminded of the popular poster of a kitten struggling to hang onto a rope and the caption reads, “Hang in there”. Hanging on brings comfort for right now. But are we really helping ourselves by hanging in there, and therefore going no where? Treading water keeps our heads above water, but it surely prevents us from getting very far.
Are you that hanging kitten? Are you actively striving toward resolution? Are you waiting for resolution to come to you? Perhaps you're thinking resolution comes after your infertility is corrected. No! Resolution comes as we realize we do have the power to reclaim our future. You're making your future right now.
First, we have to reevaluate the way we've distorted our perceptions of what we want. While we've been working out the intricacies of our struggle, we may have forgotten what it is we wanted. We've been hanging-in-there gripping feelings and attitudes that have also created our limitations. We've found comfort in self-pity and refused to relinquish some of our self-imposed barriers and goals. We're hanging-in-there, keeping busy and probably avoiding the search for courage to accept what is. “Things turn out the best for those who make the best of the way things turn out.”
After redefining our goal, we have to complete what we can do. Then, we must recommit – unconditionally - to our goal. We do have choices and control. They come from us, not from others. They come from how we choose to respond to out commitment. “Do not let what you CAN'T do interfere with what you can do.” The frustrations and lack of control fall away as we realize we have choices. Satisfaction, fulfillment, and resolution come when we acknowledge our circumstances and start moving. Are you hanging in there smothered with busy-ness while waiting for change to come to you? What are you doing today toward resolution?
--Jody Earle
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“Spizzerinctum”
“Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.” -Author unknown
Years ago my Dad taught me that whatever I do, I should do it with “spizzerinctum.” At that time I wasn't sure I really knew what he meant. I now know infertility needs our “spizzerinctum.” My Dad's word means energy bound by commitment; it's vain and vigor with focus. It means strenuous vitality and stamina with a central concentration. It means “go with the gusto” toward a specific goal.
Our infertility will not cease to exist because we choose to ignore it. If infertility is important enough to us that it puts out lives on hold, then it is important enough for us to do something about it.
Struggling through our infertility successfully requires “spizzerinctum.” We have to start, we have to set goals, we have to make changes, and we have to set new goals – all with aggression and devotion. Working with out Resolve chapter also gives meaning to “spizzerinctum.” We, the Board, are regular people, just like you. Many of us have struggled and hurt. We don't work for Resolve because we know so much. We work for Resolve because we care so much. Our chapter continues to exist due to hard work, sweat, and sheer will. We use massive doses of “spizzerinctum.” We get so many requests for help what we know we are needed; this helps keep us going. And, along the way, we slowly start to heal.
However, our chapter has problems which do not cease to exist nor can we ignore them. What puzzles us is why are we struggling to get you to offer a few hours of help. Why have you left this job entirely up to us? Why do so few of you send money to support our work? Why do so many of you coast on someone else's hard work or membership donation? Remember we ARE you!
Just as we must attack our infertility struggle with “spizzerinctum,” we must also focus energy toward the business of our chapter. We need you; why are you putting it off? We need your support to insure that this organization will not slip away.
Come to one of our monthly Board meetings or volunteer for our work force. Plan to do something. Do it with “spizzerinctum!” We know it will help us. You'll be surprised how much it will help you.
--Jody Earle
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Making Infertility-Related Decisions
“I find the great thing is this world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.” -Oliver Wendell Holmes
In some of our recent meetings we've discussed the difficulty of making certain decisions. We all come to our decision making uniquely; we're like no one else. Our common denominator is our exhaustion from our personal concern and from the bombardment of situations requiring our decisions. We feel bruised and battered by the piles of trials from our infertility. We feel empty and alone without even the energy necessary to determine what decisions need to be made.
Our despair allows us to bury ourselves in cowardice and indecision. We forget that making decisions allows us to disperse our problems by dealing with them, bit by bit by bit. Yes, our life plans are falling apart, but changing this happens only as we make decisions. Decision-making brings us our freedom.
Choosing to wait for the “healthy baby in the basket on the doorstep” is deciding to do nothing. Doing nothing is a decision to take a lengthy trip to no where. I have spoken with hundreds of infertile people over the last eight years. The ones who radiate a sense of calmness are not necessarily those who have infertility behind them. It is the person who is actively making decisions about their life; they're making good memories happen.
I recommend a book which I recently read which discussed making decisions for change and confronting conflicts, Caring Enough to Confront , by David Augsburger. It is written from a Christian perspective, but could be helpful for anyone.
Getting Unstuck
I would change…(if I could)
I ought to be better…(but I'm not)
I should be able to move free…(but I'm helpless)
I wish things were different…(but it's hopeless)
What do I really want?...(I can't say, I'm too busy playing helpless and
Hopeless)
I'm stuck.
-from Caring Enough to Confront by David Augsburg
Decide to pull yourself away from where you are, step by step. As you strive to be informed and to receive appropriate support, you will find yourself leaning in a forward direction, aiming toward the end of the infertility maze. Decide to make the first step; the second one will surely follow.
--Jody Earle
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Let Summer Put Things Back in Perspective
“Guard your inner spirit more than any treasure, for it is the source of life.” -A. Lincoln
Summertime overflows with special joys. Enveloping ourselves with those joys doesn't take away our sadnesses, but it does help get out lives back in perspective. For several years I denied myself the chance to enjoy special summer joys. In addition to my feelings of isolation and sorrow because of my infertility, I thought I also needed to be isolated from life's little joys such as the pleasures of summertime. I felt I needed to concentrate on my suffering. I also thought summertime was a season devised only for kids. In retrospect, it was a bad mistake. None of those cherished summertime joys are the exclusive property of children.
Why is it that when we're enduring sadnesses, we feel we deserve absolutely no happiness? Why is it that when we need warmth and support, we persist at keeping ourselves isolated, lonely, and empty? Why is it our sadnesses stop us from nurturing our heart? It's because we loose perspective.
I've always encouraged facing our struggles and taking action on them. However, in order to have the strength to do this, we need to enhance our lives with joys, support, and love – joys such as those of summertime, and support and love such as those received from our Resolve associations and from our partners.
How sorry I am that I thought my sadnesses meant I needed to deny myself joys, and joys – summertime or anytime. The things I cherish about summertime really aren't just for children. Summer joys are made for people who are in love with each other and who are in love with life.
Here are some of my personal summertime joys; perhaps they are yours too:
Fragrant flowers, fresh mowed hay, open windows;
Hammocks, wicker chairs, carousels, swings;
Picnics, auctions, farmers' markets, country fairs;
Signs saying, “Worms 4 Sale ,” “U Pick ‘Em,” “Kool-Aid,” “Boat Rides;”
Corn-on-the-cob, watermelons, toasted marshmallows, ice cream cones;
Dragonflies, peepers, butterflies, lightning bugs;
Parades, beaches, bare feet, new neighbors, fireworks;
Sunsets, balmy evening, rainbows, cotton clouds;
Dewdrops, dandelions, four leaf clovers.
Make a list of some of your own summer joys. Make the list, and then strive to fill your own summer with those joys. Don't concentrate on the itchy mosquito bites, the scorching sunburns, the endlessly buzzing flies, the ants in the kitchen, and oceans of work-induced sweat. Allow yourself to welcome and be filled with the summer joys which are easily yours for the taking. Let's get our lives back in perspective while we work through our infertility. Don't wait. Enjoy your summer!
--Jody Earle
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Changing Seasons
Summer is fading and we are in the midst of the changing of a season. We hustle from one activity to another, barely noticing and rarely celebrating this milestone of time slipping by. We might pause for just a moment to enhance our futures by planting bulbs which will promise springtime color, but mostly we just rush from summer into fall wrapped up in the business of busyness.
My personal involvement with infertility struggles and with Resolve is also changing seasons. I have recently handed over the reins of our chapter's leadership to a new president. With two sons, nearly 8 years and 3 years old, the focus of my volunteer hours needs to change. It took me 11 years, 5 pregnancies, awful sadness, and incredible elation to reach this point. Building the size of my family is finished. It was one final decision determined by my infertility due to stolen options and years.
Infertility is still very much a part of my life, and now I realize it always will be. But the struggle phase is no longer a part of my infertility. For me, toiling through infertility is done, though there were many, many times when no one would have been able to convince me that the struggles would end. I'm changing seasons to another cycle in my life and hoping that those bulbs will ensure future color.
You and I have been united through many seasons. Together we have cried, celebrated, been terrified, and been courageous. We've grieved as marriages and/or hope dissolved, and we've rejoiced as partners bonded like epoxy and as avenues opened while traveling through the infertility maze. We've learned how to talk about private and special feelings and then how to confront these feelings by deciding to do something about them. We've shared our lives.
How do I feel to be finished with the struggles of my infertility?
I feel freedom.
I feel thankful for my Resolve friendships.
I can't forget my starving for infertility information and my gluttony upon finding it.
I feel astonished at having to consider birth control.
I feel like I'm suffocating when others are casual about their pregnancies.
I feel sweaty when I think other babies are unappreciated.
I feel amused when I find my son playing mailman using an old billing envelope from my
infertility specialist.
I feel queasy in my ob-gyn's waiting room.
I feel comfort that my partner and I weathered a great storm.
I feel amazed to see 2 car seats in my car.
I feel panic when others discuss their deliveries, and I remember mine.
I feel awe when I kiss two sleepy blonde heads good night.
I feel terror when I think about intensive care nurseries.
I feel angry that infertiles rarely can enjoy their pregnancies.
I feel dumbfounded to read in these stories things I'd never seen before:
Rapunzel: “Once upon a time there was a man and his wife who had long wished for a little child of their own, but had finally given up hope.”
Thumbelina: “Once there was a woman who wanted a child more than anything in the world. At last in loneliness and sorrow she went to a witch and spoke of her desire.”
Sleeping Beauty: “There was a king and queen who were so sorry that they had no children; so sorry that it can not be expressed. They went to all the waters in the world; vows, pilgrimages, all ways were tried, and all to no purpose.”
Tom Thumb : “There was once a poor woodsman who lived with his wife in the woods. He often said, ‘How lonely it is without a child to laugh and play about us. If only we had just one.'”
My season has changed to “after the infertility struggles.” For me, there is no “after infertility.” I still think infertile; I still feel infertile. I've accepted the fact that I can't escape infertility. Likewise, I can't escape my caring about Resolve and about you. So we will be occasionally reunited, infertility and me, Resolve and me, and you and me. The difference is that rather than opposing and struggling with it, I now accept it, I expect it, I can manage it, and at times I can laugh at it. Infertility's persistence was illustrated for me when I gleefully bought a rubber duck for my son—I finally had a good excuse to have one in my bath tub. My infertility past, the duck didn't work as I'd expected it to either. It only floated upside down!
My hope for you is that your infertility will also soon change seasons so that you might celebrate time passed and the knowledge that you no longer need to struggle against infertility. And may you always have a moment to help someone else work their way through the infertility maze. I bet it will bring flowers in the spring.
--Jody Earle, President, RCNY, 1985-87
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