How I Started

It’s very out of character for me to write so much without signing my real name.  I’ve been a writer for most of my life and one of the joys of writing, for me, is disclosure.  I feel successful in my writing when I get that slightly-scared sorta queasy feeling of "I can’t believe I just told you that."   In this effort, I still get some of the pleasure of disclosure, but unattributed disclosure is a little bit less risky and also not as fun.  But that’s the way it is for now.  I would love to sign my name, but I can’t, because there are children involved.  Namely, mine; the ones we’re trying to create through third-party, very-much-assisted reproduction.  Those children have a right to decide who knows and who does not know that their heritage is a little more interesting than most, and so I am careful who I tell and who I do not tell about the way we’re trying to have them. 

There is also a lot of freedom for me in writing this way, knowing that some people out there who don’t know me will get to read what I write without knowing all my baggage.  (that’s the baggage I haven’t told you about; yes, there’s more).   

But there is a section of my audience that is comprised of people who know me, who I have told about this blog.  You get to know me outside the blog as well as within it, and I ask you to be careful not to "out" me, and I hope you can respect my need to protect my family’s privacy.  That means you can’t tell mutual friends that I have a blog; but you can tell them to ask me about it if you want them to enjoy the shimmering brilliance of my prose along with you.  Or whatever.   I’m not paranoid that SD-6 is going to come and hunt us down if you read my blog or comment, and I’m trying not to flatter myself that that many people out there will ever read this, be they known to me or not.  So thanks for understanding the parameters and enjoy.


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Infertility is annoying because “what comes after” can sometimes be up to us.  Meaning that if you have or acquire a child, then some portion of your literal infertility ends.  But that is just the physical infertility.  The heart infertility, of course, goes on forever. 

I am not in “what comes after”, since we don’t have a baby yet and living “child free” sounds just as ridiculous to me as it ever did.  But I have experienced a good thing, a necessary transition in my own – here I must think hard for a word that isn’t “journey,” God help me – uh, infertility thing; and that’s the “pop!”   

“Pop,” for me, is when I couldn’t stand the grief and the fear anymore.  I think “pop” is the sound we hear when expectations finally and completely blow up, and we are free to accept what is instead of what should be.  Like throwing up, “pop” is preceded by denial and followed by tremendous relief. 

The “pop” for me was about God.  I figured since God allowed sexual abuse and trauma and its aftermath into my early life, He would reward me with a statistically unlikely 40-and-over natural pregnancy.  It was not the least He could do, but it seemed fair.  He apparently doesn’t agree.  I struggled with anger at Him, Unhelpful Christian Comments, and some ineffective attempts to get Him to change His mind.  He didn’t.  My expectations, my anger, my disappointment, my shame, my isolation, my crippling jealousy of fertile people, it all got so huge it had to just – pop.  Of course it wasn’t easy or that sudden, but looking back, it did kind of just bloat itself right out of existence. 

The clear sign that I’ve popped is that I’m happy and delighted to be planning our next cycle in January (this will be IVF @2), feel grateful that God allows this for us, and no longer hate 1) all fertile people 2) all pregnant women over 40 and 3) everybody, not necessarily in that order.  I still get jealous but to move from white-hot hate to a little green twinge is amazing.  For me.  I now spend more time worrying about my infertile friends and how I would handle my possible pregnancy around them, than the other way around. 

So, here we go.  Having popped, I’m halfway fun to be around again, and I’m starting this blog.  I have no idea what comes after.   
Thanks for reading,