Sometimes I wonder if my infertility is trying to tell me something. I’m a big believer in the old adage that everything happens for a reason. You could be going through a very bad spell in life, or things have gone wrong and I always think that someway, somehow you will come out the other side and in a strange sort of way, you’ll be glad you went through that time.
This has happened a few times over the course of my life; it’s how I met Dave! So I really thought that after going through our infertility struggle, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel, and when we finally became parents we would look back fondly and be glad we went through what we did as it would make us more grateful for what we had then achieved.
But I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m losing my hope, every day, little by little. After our miscarriage I kept saying to Dave “Why us?”, something I’m sure every couple struggling with infertility ask themselves many times. And Dave’s answer was always the same “So you can write about it”. He knows how much I love writing, and how cathartic it is for me to put down my thoughts and feelings on the screen. By sharing our story, we were sure it would help others; after all we weren’t one of those couples who did IVF once and became pregnant; we had now turned into a couple who were experiencing different aspects of infertility which meant I could connect with more and more people going through the same thing. And the blog has really been a tremendous thing. Over the year and a half, I’ve had countless messages from people reaching out, giving advice or just wanting to chat and share their story. I’ve also connected with some amazing women who I know I’ll be friends with forever, and it’s great to see how their journeys have progressed alongside mine.
However, that’s the problem. My journey isn’t progressing. Here we are on the precipice of our third round of IVF and I’m now having serious doubts about whether this is something I want to do. I’ve started to think that maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.
Sometimes in life, I feel you’re best not to force things too much. What if you wish for something so much, and then you get it and it’s not at all what you imagined? What if we keep doing IVF and finally get pregnant and then I’m a terrible mother? Or I can’t cope with the baby? Or I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing and I start to wonder why I ever wanted a child? I don’t think there’s many people in my family friends or infertility community who would want to listen me complain about how hard it is being a mother after so many years of wishing for a baby! I understand those feelings are fairly common, especially for first time mums. I’ve had friends who have struggled, feeling like they’re failing at every turn and never being able to please the baby. One friend used to text me at teatime and tell me she’d only just showered and had nothing to show for her day except looking after her baby! And I used to chuckle to myself and think “but that’s what you’re supposed to be doing! That’s the fun of it all! That’s motherhood!”. And she coped, got through that stage and is a terrific mother. But I guess I’m just scared that it won’t be everything we’ve dreamed of for so long, that I just won’t be good enough. And then what? Or even worse, I’m terrified that we never get to that stage at all. We keep punishing ourselves with more IVF cycles and just come out battered and bruised with nothing to show for it but huge bills and broken spirits.
In the end, maybe I’m just not meant to be a mother. Maybe we should just accept our life the way it is and move on. I’m finding it increasingly hard to see any happy ending in sight; the image I’ve had in my head for years of us creating a family, bringing our own baby home and enjoying every aspect of parenthood is fading day by day. Meanwhile people around us are moving forward in their lives; getting pregnant, raising children, getting promoted, doing SOMETHING. At the moment, I’m doing nothing but now deliberating about another round of IVF that fills me with so much dread I feel physically sick when I think about it.
In the end, what’s meant to be will always find its way; I just wish I knew what that was.