The (forever?) Empty Womb

Photo courtesy of TheMidnightOrange.

*First, I think I need to preface this post by stating loudly that I'm not angry or upset or bitter or jealous of other women's pregnancies.  I'M REALLY NOT!  In fact, when I hear of other women becoming pregnant after long, arduous, heart-wrenching battles with IF, I am actually cheering right along with them.  So, PLEASE, don't get all righteous telling me how I should be glad for others or how I sound bitter...I am glad for others...I'm actually not bitter.  Everything I'm writing about today is really just observation and a healthy dose of realization on my part...about what my future might really (not) hold.*

The past few months have been fraught with pregnancy and birth announcements - many people I know IRL, some I've only ever known via the Internet.  Some are those of fellow cysters or those battling some other form of IF; several have been "regular" folks who just got knocked up the "old fashioned way".  But today, I found out that pretty much the last girl I had known to be battling IF is now pregnant via donor eggs and IVF.

For some reason it all really hit me:

I am the LAST one left standing.  I am the last "barren woman"...I am a statistic.

I remember sitting in our new RE's office way back in 2010 with Mr. C, god, we were so naive and optimistic - so gloriously optimistic!  Doctor was laying everything out about my recent diagnosis of PCOS.  While he explained all that would be most likely needed to get me pregnant, he noted that we shouldn't worry; because only about 5% of women with PCOS don't end up getting pregnant when medical intervention is applied.

GREAT!  We thought.  We'll be pregnant in no time, then!

Wow, gloriously optimistic, indeed.

Fast forward through all of the meds, procedures, and IUI's; and it looks like we are that 5% that don't ever succeed.  True, we never dove into IVF; but at that point, the money had run out, and it was either adoption (= guarantee) or IVF (= no guarantee).  We went with adoption (which doesn't mean it isn't difficult and fraught with disappointment...only that in the END, there will be a baby).

Sometimes it blows my mind that this didn't work out for us.  Sometimes I cry.  Sometimes I'm super angry and feel like screaming or throwing a pregnant lady off a cliff (okay, not REALLY).  Sometimes I get into a depressed funk that lasts for days.  Sometimes the thought comes and then flits away quickly as if I never really cared about it at all.  Strange.

Now that I'm so far removed from the "trying" (and "failing") stages, I can say that more than anything I wonder a lot about what I'm "missing out on".  And then, I have to think, "What if it truly never happens - EVER?"  What if I die, and I never conceived or gave birth?  What does that mean?  How will it affect me, my life, my family, my marriage?  Does it even matter?  What's God's will?  Or is it all just on me, did I not try hard enough to make this happen?

Knowing what I know now about all the weird, crazy, seemingly random steps God took to protect my sister and my mom from their health issues, it makes me wonder if infertility is a way of protecting me and Mr. C too.  Would we have a terrible miscarriage?  Do I have a malformation like my sister that would also most likely burst if I ever got pregnant that I just don't know about?  Would our child inherit some crazy cancer gene and have to fight for his/her life like my mom?  Would they have epilepsy and get hurt like Mr. C or my sister?  The questions abound, but at the end of the day the reality is - "who knows?"  We could  conceive and have a perfectly healthy pregnancy and child.  OR, something could go terribly wrong.  But, aren't these things every  parent-to-be has to consider?  So, really, am I just trying to make myself feel better over the fact that we FAILED to conceive?

Possibly.  Very probably, actually.

When I was in college, I took an English class entitled "Rooms, Tombs, and Wombs in Women's Literature".  Although there were many themes that ran through this class' coursework, the undercurrent was always the same - all of these things are meant to be filled in one way or another.  And in regards to women, the womb is the most powerful container of all.  Within its confines, the spark of life itself bursts into being; it is truly the most incredible act of creation a woman can participate in.

But what does that mean for a woman like me?  What if I never get to "create" in that way?  Am I in some way deficient?  Do I miss out on touching the universe on some higher plane?

In my heart, I want to believe that these questions are silly; but then again, are they?  I can't be the only infertile woman wondering these things...

I don't have any answers to these multitudinous quandaries...perhaps I never will, and probably there is a life lesson even in that realization as well.  All  I know is that my womb is empty...it has never been "full", I have never felt life bursting at the seams within me (our miscarriages were too early for me to even realize I was truly pregnant, let alone feel anything)...and there is a very great possibility that I never will.  I wish I knew how I felt about that prospect, but at the moment I just don't know yet.

Is anyone else out there contemplating the reality of a (possibly) forever empty womb?  How do you cope with this reality?  Does it bother you or do you rarely think of it?

Just thoughts...I hope I can expound upon this at a later time...these have been fairly rambling thoughts, but I think all of these questions are weighty and deserve real and honest contemplation.

Love Love Love,
*mandie*