Monday, August 3, 2009

Most Days

You know what stresses me out more than infertility? Reading about the stresses of infertility. I don't feel like our marital relationship has suffered at all, and yet I read about all of the hardships of fertility and the strain it puts on couples' intimacy and communication and worry that it's somehow happening to me and I don't know it. Or that it's just around the corner.

They call stuff like this "psychosomatic." The mind convinces the body it has a disease and the body plays along with symptoms. Except my marriage isn't playing along with symptoms. I'm just sitting in front of my computer reading "self help" articles that are pushing my stress levels through the roof.

This may be the worst thing that's ever happened to me, but it's really not that bad. My life just hasn't sucked that much. Sure, there are some huge downers, but they roll off the back after not too long. And this whole IVF thing? I'll get over stabbing myself with needles. I was never a shy girl, and quite frankly, the fact that over 10 people have seen my insides over the past couple of months doesn't bother me in the slightest. Heck, they can use my insides for educational videos if they want.

So I'd be lying if I said I loved doing this stuff or that it wasn't bothering me, but I'd be lying to myself if I said it was ruining my life. Everyone has something they want in life that they sometimes have to work really hard for. Boxers get the crap beaten out of them before they get good; accountants have to spend thousands of boring hours studying for the CPA to pass; and I have to spend lots of money and go through crappy procedures to get pregnant.

It makes some people feel like they have no control over their lives, but the thing is, I choose this. I know what my options are, and I'm choosing this. It doesn't matter that I don't really have any options. I wouldn't trade my infertility for any other problem in the world—and it's always a trade. I mean, what would I turn in to get working ovaries? My awesome husband? Never. My arms? Probably not. Indoor plumbing? No. Because I can handle this. Most days.

1 comment:

Brooke said...

I completely understand what you are saying. I hate the seizures, and I will never feel in control of my own brain again. At least there is a pill for it though.