August: Dog Days of Summer

Tuesday, December 4, 2012


Forgive me, dear readers, if tonight's post sounds a bit terse. But, well, I'm kinda miffed. I'm kinda all kinds of negative today- so again, please forgive and bear with me. I have had two separate family members basically negate all of my emotions about my story, and tell me that I just need to "deal."  One of them who said that they "can't understand why I'm worrying about the past when I have two perfect, beautiful children," the other who told me that "I really need to just get over it." Oh, really? Do I?  Without intent of offending,  Here's what pisses me off about this: I am simply trying to write my story, even if it's in bits and snatches. I cannot very well write my story with any kind of honesty, without including the emotional element, now can I? And it really isn't a matter of "getting over it." It's a very important part of my life and who I am. I am FAR from ungrateful for the children I have- in fact, I'm probably MORE grateful for them because of what I went through to have them. "Getting over it" means what, exactly? That I should just forget about this journey, or diminish its impact and importance because - why? Because that journey wasn't important? Because it was in the past? Because it doesn't matter now that I have my children? Well, I'm sorry, but- um, no. That journey and story is vital. It is vital because it is how they came into this world, and I want them to know and appreciate how they came to be. It is vital because it shaped who I am as their mother. It is vital, because it has altered who I am as a woman. And it is vital because, to negate it or forget it, is to deny it. To deny it is to turn my back on it. Which I am unable and unwilling to do. Does this make me weak? stagnant? stuck in the past? I don't think so.
I want to write my story, in an attempt to better rationalize my own feelings about, as well as to share the amazing journey with others who can identify and/ or find some hope from it. And I want my children to know their whole story. It's my way of preserving the story of our family. It's my legacy to them. My mom never told me a whole lot about her family- and for this, I am saddened. I wish I knew more about my heritage than I do. I want to leave my kids with the full knowledge of how they came to be- and with the full knowledge of how much they were wanted. Writing my story must include the emotional element, or it wouldn't be honest. Or true. Not having carried my own kids and given birth to them myself is the vital and central part of this story. The fact that I still carry sorrow about this is the truth. Take it or leave it. The fact that I still carry sorrow about this is also totally normal and human, and it's not something I'm prepared to defend or apologize for. And I do still carry some sorrow about the fact that I can't ever be pregnant and experience childbirth myself. I just do. And it doesn't mean I don't love and appreciate my kids. And it doesn't mean that I'm stuck or sadly dwelling on the negative or hung up on the past. It just IS. I am simply acknowledging it, which, for me, feels much healthier than denying or burying these feelings. And I am going to write about it.
While I'm on topic, I am having a difficult day today with these feelings. I have so many dear, dear friends who happen to be pregnant right now. For fuck's sake, even Princess Kate has announced she's expecting! Is it totally sick and wrong that I somehow secretly wished she'd have had a bit more of a challenge getting pregnant? Because THAT would really make people pay better attention and sit up and take notice of the infertility crisis? Sick? Mean? Not my intent, but really- I sort of did. There. I said it. I read something today- details about how someone who is newly pregnant after also struggling with infertility for a long time and about the magic and miracle of hearing for the first time, the heartbeat of the baby inside her. She was in tears. I was in tears. Totally mixed and conflicting for me. I'm so happy and excited for her. At the same time, it put me emotionally, right back to where I was before I had my kids. Which hurt so much. Again, I found myself feeling that jealousy, anger, unfairness, "why not me?" feeling which is so awful and ugly and painful. I just feel I got dealt a bad hand. I got cheated. Not pretty, I know. But there it is. I hope I'm not alone in this? Because I know a LOT of women who have gone through infertility, IVF, etc. and who are now mommies. But I don't know ANYONE else who has had their children via gestational surrogacy. I know no one who I feel knows or can fully understand my predicament of exact emotions. I'm feeling kind of alone in this. I guess that's my hand. I'll "deal."



  1. that sucks. where they male family or older women? just curious. i think it's important to acknowledge your condition on a medical history level, if nothing else. i also don't know much about my family's medical history so who knows what's in store for me or julia for that matter.

    some people are more emotional than others, which is hard for even family to understand (much less in-laws). my sissy is far more emotional than i am and there have been many times where i've struggled with understanding why she's holding on to something negative...but i realized i don't need to understand her.
    i can also relate to your jealousy issue. i was a middle child and spent some of my early adult hood feeling nasty all the time. it's just something i've had to work on. indulging that negativity doesn't do anything for you..and it's a slippery slope.

  2. Megan-
    They were both older women. I do think it's kind of a generational thing, that idea of "just get over it."
    I try not to indulge that negativity at all- but it does pop up from time to time. Writing about it helps me to pull it apart, and disperse the "poison" -

  3. Argh! I had a whole huge comment typed out to you and Blogger ate it! Darn it. There was a big old metaphor about how IF is like a marathon, and of COURSE you don't just walk away from the finish line and carry on with your day. There is a recovery period - both physical and emotional. And the emotional takes as long as it takes. You are absolutely entitled to your grief over what you missed out on in your journey, and nobody can take that from you. The thing about grief is that it never goes away, it just gets more comfortable I suppose. And it doesn't get easier in a linear fashion either. It ebbs and flows until we find away to be more comfortable with it. Nobody has to be comfortable with it but you, and telling you to get over it? Not cool. I wish I had some words of wisdom there, but I really do understand where you are coming from.

    Finally, I know you are new to blogging, so here is a link to my friend Keanne's blog (who had her son through gestational surrogacy): She's rad!

    1. Exactly! Very well said... thank you!

  4. Hi! I'm Julia, and I found you on PAIL! (I'm

    I have to tell you, I've also had some doozies of quotes along the way. I try to ignore it, but dang it if it doesn't sting.

    I don't think we ever "get over" infertility. For me, it reminds me that somethings that are meant to be easy and natural just can turn out to be the opposite. I worry that other things that are dubbed as such... won't be.

    1. It never ceases to amaze me how un-informed people can be, and subsequently insensitive-
      Thanks for reading!