National Infertility Awareness Week

Someday I will be a great warrior for the things I feel passionate about.  This week especially has been more about keeping my head above water and avoiding things that bring me down--like Facebook.  But while that has had its advantages, it's also meant missing out on occasionally cool things, like National Infertility Awareness Week.  It ends today, so I guess I haven't missed the boat COMPLETELY, but I would have loved to have been sharing all week long my thoughts and links that buoy me as a quiet crusador for greater understanding and compassion in this little corner of the world.

Infertility is still a personal daily struggle, and that's a fact I deny--even to myself many days.  I try to focus on all the things I *can* do right now, unencumbered by small children.  But, inevitably, there are "those moments" that bring it all back in a quick slap to the face and remind me of the *reality* we face daily.

Like earlier this week.  Baby talk is frequent in the teacher's lounge, and as long as I have something else to do while I listen I can handle it.  I'm more an observer by nature than anything, so I often just enjoy the conversations of others without having to get dragged into them. While it doesn't make me the most exciting person to talk to, my sincerity when I *do* speak and my listening ears are some of my strengths, so I'm okay with that.  But what do you do--what do you say--when a coworker turns the tables of conversation to you, and asks the DREADED question--"So, when are YOU going to start having babies?" and it's all you can do not to cry and make things even MORE awkward in that breathless beat of a moment?

Here's what I usually do.

(1) Avoid the question entirely.  Smile, shrug, and then change the subject.
(2) Reply with, "Whenever we can," or "Whenever the Lord lets me," then look down because of the shame of it--not even knowing really WHY it feels shameful.
(3) Pretend that my inability to bear children is NOT at the forefront of my mind day and night, laugh the question off as absurd and make a comment suggesting it's "not the right time financially" or something silly and outright UNTRUE to my feelings.

Then there is this week, where I paused awkwardly and then did all three.  *Facepalm.*

The truth is, people, INFERTILITY SUCKS.  It just sucks. 

The truth is, we've just finished year 3 of helplessness and despair in our unfulfilled desires (which is MINISCULE compared to some of my friends, I know, but my 3 years are not any less painful than their 7 or 12), and there are days I can barely breathe from the weight of the loneliness, disappointment, guilt, self-loathing, worry, more guilt, loss of faith, struggles with marital intimacy, struggles with others, etc.  We have sort of stopped trying for the time being, because the emotional toll is SO TERRIBLY GREAT and unless you've been there you really can't understand or judge.  Truthfully, while I am incredibly excited about some of the other avenues my life is taking in the near future, the sting of infertility never really leaves.  And, according to most people I know, it never really will, regardless of what my miracle turns out to be.

For those who really want to know, I am not financially ready to adopt.  I am not emotionally ready to turn to the invasive options of drugs, surgeries, etc.  While I am taking the small steps to BE ready for these things--including getting healthier in every sense of the word--right now I am just trying to focus on all that is GOOD in my life--because there is SO MUCH GOOD and

I AM NOT MY INFERTILITY.

Like every struggle in life, it is part of what defines me but it is NOT ME. 

I am quiet.
I am pensive.
I am passionate.
I am a reader, a writer, an artist, a musician.
I am a friend, a sister, a wife, a daughter, an aunt.
I am a student, a teacher, a secretary, a nurse to sick puppies.
I am an emotional being, however deeply those emotions may be hidden at times from the rest of the world.
I am craving good, clean humor and fun.
And chocolate.  All the time, chocolate.
I am world-weary.
I am a dreamer.
I am a firm believer in second chances, in compassion, in succoring the ONE, and the power of people to do good things.
I am going on to do great things.

I am also, coincidentally, infertile.
I am heartbroken.
I am left out--especially in a church that has so much focus on family and parenting.
I am harder on myself than ever.  And that's saying something.
I am lonely.  It's a hard battle always, but it's extra hard for the soft-hearted and soft-spoken.
I am tired.
I am jealous.
I am bitter (but hopefully not TOO much so).

I am more compassionate and less judgmental because of my infertility.
I am more able to focus on others every day.
I am more able to appreciate especially the nature, potential, and incredible value of each child I work with.
I am able to see greater potential in the future, because there are still SO many options and so many good things to do while we are waiting.
I am more patient in suffering.
I am closer to my husband, he having quietly suffered right along with me all these years.
I am in good company, with several scriptural women as well as part of a community of couples--a "club" almost--that inspires, supports, and strengthens me.
I am not alone.

And I am grateful.