Communicate. It really is that simple. Or is it just me….?

When I started to Blog I thought I would write with an overwhelming sense of positivity, a bright beacon of hope in the blogosphere, infertility cast in a new light!

However my writing has coincided with our very last throw of the dice on our infertility journey, and 10 years in, I find myself going through a blow by blow face off with the realities of infertility and the impact it has had on my DW and I.  In short this blog is helping me make sense of it all.

 I have confronted my  issues or feelings head on in order  to try and exorcise them, to take away the fear that they may haunt me in the future  – don’t worry this is a controlled experiment undertaken with the support of an experienced and specialised infertility counsellor to light the way and check my marbles en route!!

This week my self-help therapy was  sparked by my not being invited for (the second year running) to the 2^nd birthday party of my godson, it suddenly dawned on me that I have never been to a child’s birthday party (as an adult) and I have never held a new born baby.

 “Poor me”, can you hear the violins playing as I sulk my way through the day…? 

Hold on a minute though!  I am not so sure that it is actually self-pity driving my deep sense of regret.  Both these experiences are fundamental to the the cycle of life, its natural cycle.  To not take part in them is to miss out and is likely to make even the sturdiest of men sad. 

 I would add too that I am not so naive as to think that this only applies to the infertile amongst us.  I feel horrible for my single friends many of whom are also by consequence “infertile”, and furthermore lonelier than I who is blessed with a brilliant wife.

 As I felt a growing sense  of sadness I instinctively felt I should pay attention to how I was feeling.  As I really got to know and to confront the issue I was suddenly surprised, what I hadn’t banked on was discovering… anger.  Specifically anger at my friends and family.

 I realised I have been harbouring anger against those around us who have hidden their joy from us, who have made countless decision on my behalf usually to save their own embarrassment because of a problem that afflicts US, not THEM! I realised it is not normal to not have met our “best friends” babies until they were months old or to have not been invited to our nieces  and nephews birthday parties, sentimental but important and exciting landmarks in a little life.  Maybe it would be a delight to hold a newly born child just days old, I would love to know how their skin feels and to discover this magical smell that new borns are rumoured to have!

 Infertility causes you to be brave, you just have to suck it up, therefore others awkwardness on your behalf is all the more grating as it pulls you lower than you have fought to climb.  We may have risen above our circumstance, but still, failing to acknowledge our accomplishment, others choose to decide just how far they think you have risen , – “we couldn’t possible invite them it would be just too hard for them”.

 If you are fertile yourself and you are reading this, leave your cowardice and guilt behind and simply involve others in the joy of your children by giving others the option before you make the decision for them. 

Communicate.  It really is that simple.  Or is it just me….?

Smile

If you sit still, quiet, smiling, for long enough (10 years) they might not notice.

It’s more comfortable to not notice, and they are ever so appreciative of you not ever bringing it up.

One time he noticed - “you’re so lucky you know, lying in each weekend”

I rather wish he hadn’t noticed, least of all commented.  Prompted by my longing for this excruciating moment to pass I issue myself clear orders.  “Move on, and remember….. smile”.