#ThisIsInfertility

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*Not our new house. This is Christiania.

Soon, Martin and I will move. We are downsizing to a smaller, cheaper apartment in a northern borough of Copenhagen called Nørrebro. AKA, NørreBronx.

Our week of packing happens to coincide with National Infertility Awareness Week in the United States. The movement — complete with hashtags and extensive social media efforts — has given me time to reflect on the current wave of emotions (read, bitterness) I am feeling right now.

We are moving because I struggle with infertility; my body isn’t working right, and this is my punishment. Losing my home, in hopes of gaining some money. To pay for the children we so desperately want. We will have to pay a lot of money to earn the title of Parents, esq.

I am trying to be less bitter about this fact. But I am. 11 rounds of fertility treatments, and we are back at the bottom of our mountain. Only soon, we are homeless. Uprooted, physically and emotionally. And you don’t have to tell me, because I already know: it’s only money, and it will be the most gratifying, heart-filling investment we will ever make in our lives. Without question.

But I see our move as a huge failure on my part.IMG_5148

We are moving…the wrong way. We are the Jeffersons, in reverse. We are moving on down, to the North side, to a deluxe shanty that makes me cry.  This predicament has upturned the old canard I clung to, promising my ‘upward mobility.’ We are going from spacious and posh and high ceilings, to smaller and dodgier and a single chipped bathroom in that rougher hood across town. The one where the terrorist was shot after his shooting rampage on February 14th.  There is no sparkling pool of self-pity for me to swim in there. There are people there in far worse shape than me.

I would like to not be the sweater-set wearing a$$hole that I am who worries about the square-metres of her new address. We don’t really need a big flat, because we are just two. But where will the crib go, over there?

The moving boxes all over the flat eat me up inside. I mope around the joint, and fill half a box every evening before telling my husband I’m too tired.

I am annoying even myself.

Martin has called in the big guns. His parents. My precious in-laws from the island of Fyn have temporarily moved into the new, bare-ass flat. They brought sleeping bags and meatballs. They wake early every morning, put on their overalls, and get to work, painting it top to bottom (while Martin and I have our butts planted in Danish-design chairs, in front of our computer screens all day).

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Actual photo submitted to adoption agency. 🙂

They’re sleeping on an air mattress every night in order to help us. And I still feel like I am entitled to complain. (I know I’m not). They don’t want to bunk with us at the old flat in order to “give us our privacy.” They get it. They know how our evenings are spent. Emailing adoption agencies in the U.S., fighting back tears.

I tell them, Tak. Tak så meget.

Thank you so much. I slipped into the kitchen during dinner last night to cry into the sink. Because their decency and generosity are things I feel unworthy of._MG_4739 copy

I am so mad at the world, but I love them so much. I love them for being so silent and loving. For helping us out in this confusing time. For making sure my amazing husband isn’t in that flat alone, painting it real nice for his bitter, infertile wife.

#ThisIsInfertility #NationalInfertilityAwarenessWeek

 

  9 comments for “#ThisIsInfertility

  1. juvie
    May 17, 2015 at 11:11 pm

    Hugs hugs hugs. I love your blog – just read these two posts. Your in laws sound amazing – it sounds like they love you two dearly and this is their way to give. So don’t feel guilty, instead feel blessed! I can’t imagine how it must feel to be uprooted literally from your home for treatments, but I do know what it’s like to look at the dwindling bank account and fearing the despair will start to outweigh the hope once the money runs out… We are there after a fourth round and all our embryos died at Day 5. We have one frozen viable embryo, a last shot… I try to describe to so someone what that’s like, for all your embryos to die. They think going out on the town should help. I try to tell them it’s like a loved one dying. Every single month. And every month you hope to ressurect them… And each month that you don’t, the grief gets a tiny bit bigger, and the hope a tiny bit less. But they don’t get it. I was feeling alone today and your post made me feel better. Thank you xoxox

  2. May 20, 2015 at 3:01 pm

    Hi there Juvie. Thank you so much for your hugs! They mean a lot to me. Yes, my husband and I are so blessed to have the love and support of our families, especially my inlaws. They’ve made such a heroic effort in these last several weeks.

    I am so sorry for the harrowing journey you’ve faced. That is a lot of cycles, my dear. I will send my prayers and good vibes that your next FET with the viable embryo is your lucky
    round. Which city are you based in? Do you have any support groups or women to talk to?

    You are never alone and are always wecome back here, sister. Sending so much love and hugs!

  3. christopher langham
    June 2, 2015 at 1:04 am

    Please keep going, please keep going, please keep going, please keep going, please keep going, and going, and going, and going, and going.We are very expectant and in faith with you. We love you and are with you all the way. Looking forward to seeing your family blossom sooner than later. Your going forward in the face of opposition will pay off, and it gives me as a single man Of 43 much hope for a future family with a wife and God knows I want a family (children) of my own, as much at least as you do, if you can understand:-)
    Thank you soooooooooooooo much. Hold your head high!

  4. June 5, 2015 at 8:34 pm

    Thank you, Christopher. I promise to keep going! You do the same? I wish you all the best! xo

  5. juvie
    June 16, 2015 at 3:52 am

    Hi there! I am based in Vancouver Canada. There are some support groups but I have to say I find it hard to make the time to go… I did go once and made some friends who have been great – it’s nice to be able to text people who understand the lingo and the process and the emotions so I don’t always feel like I have to explain myself. There are two friends I wasn’t very close to before all this but they have turned out to be the most supportive – they each asked to have dinner with me, asked me lots of questions, and found out about the process. Now it’s so easy to check in with them, too. Strangely closer friends have just said they don’t know what to say, and we have drifted apart.

    I’m in the 2WW right now – it’s 7dp6dt. I’ve poas for the past 3 days and it was BFN, but I’m not reading too much into it. The clinic will do the blood test Thursday, so 10dp6dt…. It’s so hard to be positive when all we have got so far is bad news, but I’m listening to a meditation every chance I get and work is pretty busy.

    How was your move? How is the new neighbourhood turning out? Sending hugs.

  6. June 19, 2015 at 11:02 am

    We are 2WW sisters, my dear! I’m currently, as of Friday the 19th, 8dpd3t (8 days post day 3 transfer). We got 2 embies this time! How are you? Any closer to knowing — I guess you had a test at the clinic yesterday? I am crossing my fingers for you that it’s BFP. Good luck, my dear!! Hugs.

  7. juvie
    June 29, 2015 at 2:18 pm

    Hey Cammy – how are you? I sincerely hope it is good news on your side.

    Sadly, our cycle failed. Obviously we have been pretty devastated. We are at the end of the line financially so will have to take a break to pay back debt. I’ll be 39 in a couple of months and things are not looking good. I’m just holding on by a thread 🙁

  8. Picca
    July 9, 2015 at 4:06 pm

    Hi, Cammy!

    Life is unfair. Women who cannot afford to get pregnant, get so, and then they have abortions. Women who can afford to raise children are infertile.

    Then, children are born and instead of becoming men, they grow to be consumers/victims of all sorts, tortured in this cruel society. Parents live to see their children killed in a car accident or committing suicide. I have grown to learn that things come when I don’t chase them. And when I chase something and I get it, other complications follow, that I am not ready and capable to deal with.

    Creating a family is part of the consumerist capitalist western societies. Oh, and part of generating a dynasty through centuries, for royal or very rich families. If you can distance yourself from this obsession, you will see clearly whether you really want to be a mother or is it just one more lifestyle model that you can’t help but imitate it. Have you discussed with a psychiatrist? Talking to your viewers or writing blog posts is no mental cure. Discovering yourself and letting go off your bitterness could be priorities worth your maternal and psychological wellness.

  9. July 10, 2015 at 3:28 am

    Hi there. I agree with you that life is all too unfair. I’m grateful that while growing up, whining to my folks about how something was “so unfair” was a completely bunk argument — one that always earned the comeback, “Well life is not fair.” While you may have a point about the consumerist western society and its family construct, I can only speak for myself when I say that I absolutely do not want to become a mother because of some societal pull or
    pressure. I don’t know how to explain this in a way that makes sense for others, especially a skeptic, as you appear to be – but I will give it a shot. I’ve felt like a ‘mother’ since my oldest memories. I was an innate nurturer, obsessed with my menagerie of dolls and babies. My youngest sister was born when I was a bigger kid, and I can tell you that her arrival was the best thing that ever happened to me because I got to take care of her. From the moment she was born, I needed to hold her, teach her things, nurture her, comfort her, and guide her. My mom at that point, was tired from having so many kids. She was wise enough to take a more “hands off” approach with her youngest, and let her older daughters do the heavy-lifting in terms of rearing and guiding that little one into adulthood. (To her credit, my mom did a lot – she just let me be a super-involved big sis). When I went away to camp one summer, I didn’t miss my parents or my friends, I missed my youngest sister in a way that was excruciating. I believe what I was feeling was that heavy “mothering instinct.” It has just always been there.

    And while I’m not yet a mother in the literal sense, I think I was actually born one. Just as a person knows his or her sexuality or his/her gender from a very young age, I knew my familial identity was one of mother. I heard a man whose wife was infertile for 10+ years say the following and it definitely resonated in my heart. He said, “Some women do not just want children, they need them. They need a child like they need oxygen and water.” Yep – that’s how I feel.

    I hope that makes a little bit of sense. I’m a born caregiver. I didn’t have my life’s plans figured out for a while, nor did I know who I was in the complete and mature sense. And while it took me some time to find my ideal profession, a husband, a place to live, etc., I can say that the single constant that has pervaded my entire life was my need to raise children. To be a mom. I understand well that there are many wonderful women who are not like me. Who don’t feel that urge or need — or who sadly, force themselves into parenthood on account of societal or familial pressure, without their heart being into it. But I’m not that person.

    You are right that talking to my viewers or blogging are not mental cures, but I don’t need a mental cure. There is nothing, to my knowledge 🙂 that is mentally wrong with me. I am doing just fine, in the head. It’s the body that isn’t 100% cooperating (though I believe it will, in time).

    But I have been hugely helped and overwhelmed by the love and support of my far-away friends who watch my videos, and my blog readers (who are few). I write in order to find a release and it’s quite therapeutic to sort through my emotions by putting it all “on paper.” I make videos as a creative outlet and to connect with people all over the world. That’s all. I have fun with it.

    Take care.

    Cam

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