August 30,
2012
Sitting here
on our back patio, listening to the playlist on my iPod entitled, “samba
lounge,” I’ve had an epiphany.
Why write a
somber, maybe even morose essay about my trials and tribulations with
infertility? I had originally planned on pouring over boxes of notes, medical
files, research, journal entries, online “tips” and other people’s similar
experiences in order to regurgitate it all into a serious expose of “one
woman’s journey through infertility to motherhood and beyond.” When suddenly,
the new book idea presented itself to me through a post on Facebook I made this
afternoon mid-hot flash at my desk at work. I posted my status as “Suddenly
Sweating” with the byline of, “sounds like a good name for an all-girl band,
doesn’t it?” This prompted a slew of responses and hysterical song titles by
friends:
“45 Layers”
by Suddenly Sweating.
“Why am I
Awake at 3AM?” by Suddenly Sweating.
“Why am I
Awake at 3AM Soaking Wet and Stuck to my Pillow?” by Suddenly Sweating.
“Why Did I
Walk to the Kitchen?”
“Where is
the KY?”
“Why is
everything sagging?”
“Oops! I
sneezed and wet my pants a little”
“Please
Excuse me While I Stick my Head in the Freezer.”
By Suddenly
Sweating. You get the idea.
A light bulb
burst in my brain then, when I looked out into our vineyard and saw a hawk
sitting quietly on one of the end posts, taking in the evening air. Was he sent
here by providence? Was he symbolic of some great endeavor I’m supposed to
embark upon? Maybe.
Why not
write a light, pithy expose- filled with humor, realism, and soul-bearing about
my journey?
Why not
share experiences and stories from so many of the women I know who have become
mothers through varying methods?
Why not
write something that takes a hard look at the infertility crisis in this
country, through personal experiences of me and almost every mother I know?
Certainly women will be much more inclined to read and identify with women who
have been through the proverbial ringer of infertility, who can help other women
going through similar experiences with some uplifting stories, not taking
oneself too seriously while maintaining the necessary HOPE that fills the head
and heart of every woman trying to become a mommy? Perhaps I can find a way to
tell my story and inspire women who have lost some of that hope, or are in any
part of their own journey to motherhood with a bit of humor, and raw reality?
As I head
into menopause, it seems fitting that “Suddenly Sweating” should be not just
the book title, but the title for the next phase of my life altogether. While I
am struck by the irony of this next phase, after so many years on the
infertility roller coaster, I am also struck by what I can only be described as
an inner smile, a secret chuckle I hold inside. How many years have I spent in
the hope that “maybe this time” I’ll miraculously get pregnant, this round of
IVF will work, or this embryo will stick, only to now find myself at what is
truly the end of my fertile years. Oh the irony. A few years ago, I would have
crumbled at the very thought of it. Even thinking ahead to the time when I
could realistically no longer somehow miraculously become pregnant and actually
hang on to it, would have sent me into a depressive and anxious tizzy. I would
wallow in my hopelessness in those instances. For some inexplicable reason, now
that the next phase of my (fertile) life is actually upon me, I find that I’m
somewhat relieved. How can this be!? RELIEVED- seriously!? Yes. I think I can
finally begin to let go. Halle-fucking-luliah. It’s like a thousand pound
elephant is suddenly being extricated from my back. (Actually, I wouldn’t mind
if a metaphorical thousand pound- well, OK maybe a 50 pound elephant could be
extricated from my ass.) But that’s another story.
I have asked
myself often why I seem to have this driving force to write my story and to
share other women’s stories of their battles with infertility- and why now? I
think there are probably fifty thousand answers to these questions. Perhaps
because I want to inspire other women struggling with infertility- to reassure
them that there is hope; That there
are many ways to become a Mom; That the very definition of Mom is wider than
they could ever imagine; That their hearts are stronger than they know; That
the process itself is what will make them the strongest women alive; That the
end result of a baby isn’t necessarily their defining moment as a woman and
that it shouldn’t be; That even if a baby or child never actually does come
into their lives, they are still strong, important, loved, worthy, WOMEN. And
maybe, hopefully, to share some laughs and smiles of recognition along the way.
Also because when my husband and I were embarking upon our journey of
Gestational Surrogacy after 5 failed rounds of IVF, I found that there was
virtually nothing out there for me. I found no books that spoke directly to my
situation, no collection of shared similar experiences, no website that was
targeted for anyone going through exactly what we were and no laws in our state
regarding Gestational Surrogacy at all. I vowed then, that I would try to
rectify this. Surely there were other women out there, going through what I was
going through!?
Maybe now,
because of all the loss I’ve experienced this year. The one person with whom I
had the closest relationship of my life, and who understood me more than anyone
ever has or probably ever will, my Grandmother, died within this past year,
along with numerous other friends and family friends. Devastating. But strength
building, too. I’m suddenly finding myself re-defined in the world. Without the
approval from Gammie for almost every aspect of my life, I am now forced to
change how I think, feel, react, see the world, and discover my own place in
it. My role in my family has changed virtually overnight, from dependent, from
victim, from Granddaughter, from maiden; to independent, victorious, Mother.
Holy shit!? Now I’M the freaking MOM- in every sense. I am the one my daughter
will come to with questions about the world, and about becoming a woman. I’M
the one to provide the answers. I can’t call my Grandmother or my mother. I’M
the one now. I’ve moved up a notch. Shit.
Now it’s
time for me to write it all down, and to share the stories.
Suddenly I’m
sweating.
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