You Just Get Me

I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel like nobody understands me. Nobody. And I guess that is probably true. No one is exactly like me. No one else thinks like me, has had my life circumstances, is living my current life. So maybe hoping or thinking that people should just "get me" is bad logic, maybe it's hoping for a miracle. But hey, I'm looking for miracles in lots of places already.

I think I carried the teenage idea that "no one understands me" with me into my adult life. I probably should have grown out of it, but I didn't. And infertility hasn't made that any easier for me. Lately, I have really felt that the fertiles of the world "just don't get it".

Some comments from the non-infertile community:

• Just stay positive
• I like your more hopeful blog posts
• Don't let it consume your life
• You sound depressed

Now, let me first of all say that I fully realize that all of these people meant well. No one was trying to hurt me. In fact, they were all trying to show that they care, that they are for me, that they are worried about me, etc. But here's the thing:

• I can't always be positive. I'm working on it, but I'll consider myself successful when I'm positive 51% of the time. For me, that's winning.
• My blog is my outlet. It's therapeutic for me at this time of my life. I'm dealing with some BIG ideas. I'm thinking, and rationalizing through morality and faith, but also dealing with anger and frustration at God. Sometimes my thoughts aren't hopeful, sometimes they're ugly, but it's helpful to put them out there anyway.
• Too late. 
• I am. No really, I am depressed. And you would be too. Maybe not everyday, maybe you would handle it with more grace like my blogger friend, Caroline, or with more optimism like my fellow blogger, Kara, or maybe you would be more like Erika, who laughs through infertility with wit and humor. Some days, I'm each of those things. Some days, I think I'm walking this road with all the grace I can muster (after all, I wasn't born on a Tuesday). Some days, I'm full of optimism, completely confident that somehow, someway I'll be a momma. And some days, my sarcastic self shines radiantly through. But on a lot of days, infertility is beating me down. 

All I can say to those who are not infertile is this: You don't understand. This is by far the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with. And let's be honest, if you know me in real life, you know that I've dealt with my fair share of crappy hands and bumps in the road. My cousin-in-law who recently passed away after her courageous battle with breast cancer was a fellow infertile. And she once told me this, "Your walk takes me back to THE most difficult time in my life. Not stage IV cancer, but infertility." Now, not for one millisecond am I saying that infertility is harder than cancer. But that was her experience. Another blogger, Aubrey, recently posted this from a RESOLVE brochure:

Several studies have shown that women with infertility have similar levels of distress as women with cancer, HIV+, or heart disease. Infertility can have an impact on every aspect of your life, including your relationship with your partner, your sex life, your relationship with your families and friends, your job, your financial status, and even your relationship with God.

So with that in mind, I started thinking about how I don't have a clue what it is like to be diagnosed with cancer. I have no idea what kinds of thoughts go through one's mind. No idea what that does to one's relationship with a spouse, parents, friends, etc. And I don't think I have the capacity to truly understand. I haven't lived it. So although I would LOVE for all of those not involved in the infertility community to really "get me", to understand what it is that Sam and I are going though, I guess it's just not possible. And maybe it's asking too much of my friends and family to expect them to understand anymore than they already do.

Which is why I am so, so, so thankful for the opportunities to meet with other women and men struggling with infertility in real life. Yesterday, I had that opportunity. I met with a woman who is approaching her first IVF procedure. She is a remarkable woman with her eyes firmly placed on the Lord as she embarks on this journey. She is trusting fully in His sovereignty as she makes these BIG decisions for her family. We aren't at exactly the same place in our lives nor in our treatments, but it was so refreshing to sit and talk with someone who "just gets me". To hear back from another person some of the exact same things that I have wrestled with. To know that it has affected her life, her marriage, her housecleaning, her modesty, her dreams… It was so nice to take a break from trying to explain myself to everyone and just feel understood. What a gift.

So to my family and friends who aren't fully vested in infertility: I'm sorry that I've held you to such high standards. Thank you for not telling me to "shut up already". Thank you for trying to understand. And thank you for giving a darn whether we sink or swim. To my fellow infertiles: Find someone to do life with that really, truly gets you. Find many someones. Join a support group. Do whatever it takes to find a person who you can be 100% you with. Raw. Emotional. Depressed. Drugged. Worried. Hormonal. Scared. Angry. Whatever it is that infertility is dishing out at you, we all need someone to lend an ear and a shoulder. And it helps to be the ear and the shoulder for someone else too.