For the record, I am (I think) doing better in regards to coping with and accepting donor eggs. At least I don't seem as sad about it nor as often.
Certainly, seeing the baby move on the ultrasound has helped a great deal. When I think that we should have kept trying with my eggs, I can tell myself that we might still be trying for quite some time, rather than being hopeful that the kicking baby will be in our arms in 6-ish months.
It came to me several weeks back - and maybe I have already mentioned this - that part of the sadness I was feeling was separate from having a baby with someone else's genes. Part of the sadness was (is?) because I felt like such an absolute and complete failure. How was I not able to create a baby with my eggs? Did I try hard enough? I should have gone to an RE sooner. I ought to have been able to fix this!
And so the thoughts would go. Even typing it now, I can feel a heaviness in me. But the good news is that I have an answer to those thoughts: Brad and I made the best possible decision with the information we had and I did everything I could to create a different outcome. I also remind myself how completely weary we were (and still are to some extent). We needed to move on and get to a different chapter of our lives. I remind myself that it takes strength to keep moving on and to choose options you really didn't want - whether that is moving to IVF, choosing donor gametes, choosing to adopt or choosing to live child free.
The best part about being sad because I failed (or didn't fail as I keep reminding myself) is that I see myself getting over it. Losing my genetic connection will always be with me and it's impact will be felt in many different ways for years and years to come. If this is the greater cause of my sadness, how will I ever be ok? But if it is about feeling like a failure? That I can recover from.
Best Books of October
1 day ago
16 comments:
It's hard to deal with the notion of success/failure when undergoing fertility adversities. Struggles after struggles, when to move on, when to try again, what if's, what abouts etc. I am glad that you are working through all of these situations and I am glad to hear that you and Brad are communicating through on
It's so easy to be gentle with others and so hard to be gentle with ourselves.
I know this is a tough place to come through.
I know you have a good heart and it will lead you.
I have faith.
I haven't been in your shoes. I'm sorry that it's hard. And I'm glad that it's getting better with time and milestones.
My partner and I have one kiddo, whom she carried. As the non-bio mom, I wrestle with biology sometimes. It's hard. It helps so much to talk to other non-bio moms. We get each other.
I hope that you find a rich community of women who have used donor eggs. People who get you.
Best,
Bree
Thank you for your comments ladies.
Lori - It is nice to hear you have faith. I will remember that when I feel I am flailing.
Bree - Thanks for commenting. I have met a couple other ladies IRL who are currently cycling with DE. It has helped.
You are right. You made the best decisions that you could with the information that you had at the time.
It can't be easy, though,
xx
J
It's good to separate out your feelings and know what causes them -- certainly makes them easier to address! Glad you're feeling better...
I so agree with what Lori said about the difficulty of being gentle with ourselves. We really are our own worst enemies sometimes. But I'm glad to hear that you can envision yourself recovering from feeling like a failure. Because with these kind of psychological wounds, if you can imagine yourself feeling better sometime in the future, that's a huge part of the battle.
Nothing to add... the other ladies have said it so well.
Just (((HUG)))
"I remind myself that it takes strength to keep moving on and to choose options you really didn't want - whether that is moving to IVF, choosing donor gametes, choosing to adopt or choosing to live child free."
Well said, Kami. I'm glad you're feeling better and being kind to yourself.
I think your feeling are totally normal and something I would expect to feel.. But it sounds like your finding your way through all of this and the support of all the women here sure help... You honestly has been inspiring to me. I am so glad I found your blog!
You sounds like an incredibly strong woman. The choices you had to make weren't easy, but like you said you made the best choice you could with what you had available. I'm currently stuck on what to chose next: adoption or IVF, neither seems like the right choice, because part of me still feels like this shouldn't be my life. I shouldn't have to make these decisions. It just sucks.
I haven't been to your blog in awhile - I am glad to catch up and see how well things are going with your pregnancy. I'm sorry to hear you are still struggling with your decision to use donor eggs. I don't know if this will make you feel better, but one of my friends from college, who had ovarian cancer as a teen and had a full hysterectomy and can't ever carry a pregnancy, her own or otherwise, is still struggling with this over 14 years later. I was thinking, wow, if she could only even have the option to use donor eggs and experience pregnancy, which she is so desperate for, it would change her life in unimaginable ways. I guess I hope this story helps you realize that you did what you had to do to get pregnant and be a mom, and look - you're going to do it. For real. And you should be so proud of yourself and your decision. I wish you all of the best. When they put this baby in your arms, I hope all of your doubts and sadness fade and you are consumed with joy, happiness and love.
I can relate in a way. I'm a member of a support group and we had a 3rd anniversary event a few weeks ago. We had some guest speakers, one being an RE who was so cool and down to earth. I started having the old feelings and wishing I'd have shopped around some more before choosing to stop treatments. I didn't even do very many to begin with, I just hated it. I started thinking if I had a doctor who would really listen and identify the problem, it might have turned out differently.
It send me into a funk for the whole weekend. My husband finally said "you are acting the way you used to, and it makes me act the way I used to, and that doesn't work for us." He was so right. When you choose to move on (for you donor eggs, for us adoption), you can't look back. It doesn't work anymore. You can only look forward until you achieve that. Then later if you want to re-visit some things, maybe you can, but maybe that need won't be there anymore.
Know what I'm saying? Your post reminded me so much of what I just went through. After my husband said that, I was immediately back on track. It was amazing. Good luck working through all these feelings! Geez, I'm really not always this wordy!
Hope - I do know what you are saying and I think you are correct. I have been reminding myself why we made the decisions we did and the reasons are still valid.
I know this post is a week old. I read it a week ago. I've been thinking about it ever since.
For me, infertility has been very ironic.
My husband and I lived with a third person for about 3 years. At the time they moved out, this person was about 28 years old and a virg.in. It would be difficult to explain the psychology behind WHY he was still a vi.rgin but suffice it say that while he considered it to be an undesireable situation, he continued to make choices that perpetuated it. I once told him that if he failed to reproduce it would be "Evol.ution in Action".
My brother's name is Dar.win.
My father is a biologist.
I am atheist.
I truly believe in The Selfish Gene
The possibility of the loss of the genetic connection seems so huge and tragic to me. I admit I'm profoundly afraid of it. And in all honestly, I think that if it happend to me, on some level, I would always mourn it's loss. And maybe I'm going to sound like a morbid fruit loop for saying this but I don't think that's wrong. And I don't think it lessens the love you have to give to your unborn child.
I remember one time someone saying something about how the heart does not have a fixed capacity. There is not a limited amount of love to be given out. I think they were talking about having their second child and how they couldn't imagine how they would be able to love the next as much as the first because the first took up their whole heart. But then they found they loved the second one just as much as the first because the total amount of love grew.
Well, I think this logic applies to the grief as well. Just because you have a bit of grief in your heart for a loss, doesn't mean that the quantity or quality of love you have to give is any less. And you don't have to be depressed by that loss just because you continue to recognize the validity of it. I imagine that when my dad dies, I'm going to be sad about that for the rest of my life. The grief will never go away. But it will cease to live at the forefront of my mind. But if I really sit and think about it, even 10 years after the fact, I bet I expect the grief will still be just as bitter and as real. I can not imagine, for me, how the loss of the genetic tie to my offspring would be any different than that. And I don't think that's wrong.
(I know what I've said is a bit controversial and I sincerely hope I haven't offended anyone - lease of all you, Dear Kami.)
"Losing my genetic connection will always be with me and it's impact will be felt in many different ways for years and years to come."
Double ouch - I've never faced those words before, not brave enough perhaps? Thanks for writing them and giving words to something I couldn't express for so long.
Post a Comment