My Grass Isn't Greener, It's Just My Side of the Fence

I ran into an old neighbor the other week.  She's a good friend as well, but someone who I sometimes struggle with.  I had to go to the village we used to live in to get a refill on my Cyclogest - my GP and my midwife are still there, and the village is only 5 minutes away.  I was walking to the pharmacy to fulfill my prescription.  I had a magazine in hand and it was a rare June day where the rain had yet to burst through, so the sun was warm on my face.

I saw my friend on the sidewalk, walking towards me.

"Hello, Billie," I said, smiling. 

"Hello Vanessa," she said, looking immediately at my stomach.  I saw her flinch.  Her lips tightened.  I know all about this.

Billie and her husband - who has 4 kids of his own from a previous marriage - went through 4 rounds of IVF.  They did ICSI every time.  She never got a positive result, not once.  They gave up when they realized they couldn't afford to keep trying, as shortly after their fourth try he had a heart attack, so they gave up their high-powered jobs for much easier careers that wouldn't endanger his health anymore.  This took a huge toll on their finances and put an end to her dream of being a mother.  A side result of this new life has been her problems with alcohol and financial woes.  I've tried to be there for her.  I love her, but it's not always easy.

I remember her once crying on my shoulder when she had to go to one of her husband's grandchildren's christening.  Her bitterness was palpable.  I knew how that ache she had inside felt.

I told her about the pregnancy at the last book club we held.  Billie, myself, and one other woman all cannot have kids, while the other two women in the book club are at different stages - one woman has a grown son while the other woman says she's not ready for kids yet.  Billie knows I did IVF, we discussed it.  She herself went to the expensive London clinic, the one that has the best success rates, while we went to a local clinic with good rates but less of the crunchy-granola huggy feeling.  Telling her that I was pregnant was so hard, and I felt so shit about it, but she hugged me and congratulated me.

I lick my lips.  "I'm sorry if this-" I put a hand on my stomach - "bothers you, Billie.  I can go, if it helps you.  I really do understand, honest."  And I do.  It's a fun game, this board game called Desperately Wanting a Baby While Being Reminded That I Haven't Succeeded.  I've played it many times.  I absolutely know how she feels, to be the one wondering about a future she's convinced she'll never have.  I am honestly ok with her telling me to bugger off and walk away, if it would help her.  Sometimes when she's really pissed she's honest that she's jealous of my life - a house, loving stepkids, Aidan, money.  We're not rich by any stretch of the term but we have more money than she does, and it's something she remarks on.  I always hug her when she brings it up.  I don't know what else to do.  Maybe telling me to bugger off would be best.

"No, it's ok," she says.  Her eyes look exhausted.  I can smell cigarettes and alcohol on her breath, and it's only 11 am.  "I'm over it.  I've passed feeling upset I can't have kids," she says, looking away.

Liar,  I think.  I don't care who you are, running into another pregnant woman hurts.  If you've known every hour of how it feels to be on a two week wait, if you know what it's like to wake up from egg collection and immediately want to know how many they got, if you know what it's like to cry with ache because of someone else's christening, then you just don't get over it like that.

She asks lots of questions about the babies.  I answer them, but then try to change the subject.  I don't want to be the blunt instrument she keeps throwing herself against, I know how that feels, too.  In the end she wishes me well.  She hugs me and says she'll see me in a few weeks at the next book club meeting.  Then she goes off into the pub.

And I feel horrible.  I've become one of those Flinch-Worthy women.  I am now visibly pregnant, so those who long for babies flinch when they see me.  I feel it in blogland, too.  Not like it's all about me or anything, but it's true-I do have that guilt you read about when people get knocked up. 

People do disappear from the blog when you get pregnant.  And the weirdest thing is, the hardest part to admit because I feel ashamed for admitting it is this: When you get pregnant, you need people way more than you do when you're measuring out your Lupron doses or counting your antral follicles.  That part of the IF game you know, you have no doubt where you'll wind up on the board when you throw the dice-you're in an IVF cycle.  It's famliar. 

But pregnancy...I'm going to be honest and say that pregnancy is really fucking scary.  Every little thing could go wrong, there are so many horrible stories out there, and it's a whole new territory.  You have never played this game, or if you have you never lasted very long against the contenders of Mother Nature or Genetics.   Every bump, twitch, change, feeling...you feel so scared.  And because you crossed into another area, you're supposed to be tough, to not complain, to not find a single moment of it unpleasant or uncomfortable or intimidating.  You got pregnant!  You don't get to be scared!  You got a positive test result!  Stop looking a gift horse in the mouth!  This is without question the scariest thing I have ever been through, and I have seen some scary shit.  Yes, it's what I want and yes, it's also wonderful.  But I can't just go about skipping and singing and acting like one of the women who are one with nature and their bodies, who spend their time talking about how full of the essence of life they are.  Instead, I'm on the reality side.  I'm having twins.  I'm happy.  I'm scared.   

Because that's the truth of it.  You're happy and terrified and delirious and nervous and so many other things that don't come with the monotony of an IVF cycle for a longtimer like myself, where you know what your body is doing, where it's familiar territory.  I'm sorry if this hurts anyone, but I just wanted to say - it's scary going through fertility treatment.  It's also scary if you succeed.

I want to chase after Billie and tell her that I know it's fucking hard to be around me.  I know it's weird. I know you look at me with hope and jealousy and all of that, because I looked at other women that way, too.  I wish we could be in the same boat, I wish you could be pregnant too.  I'll be there for you if you can be there for me, because maybe we both need each other.

But as someone who has been in her shoes, I know that's not the right thing to do either. 

In this game, there never is a right move.  It's all a throw of the dice.

Comments

[Boliath]

I nearly lost my best friend when I got pregnant after we'd both suffered miscarriages. Thankfully I did chase after her and tell her that I loved her and needed her and I knew this was difficult for her but please stay with me. She did and her next IVF worked so all ended well but damn I was so scared of losing her.

[caba]

I know that once I got pregnant, I felt guilty about being scared or complaining about it. I had horrible morning sickness, but felt like I was so selfish to complain about it, because all I wanted was to get pregnant. Everything you said is so natural and perfect and normal. I'm in a situation where my first IVF worked, and we now have twins. My sister is in a position where she has gone through 2 fresh, 2 frozen and not BFP. It kills me. All I want is to see it work for her. Thank god she is the most amazing and involved aunt. But I know how hard it must be for her. Just being empathetic is the best we can be.

[Jen(aside)]

I've always thought it was complete bullshit when people say, "Well, at least you got pregnant. I don't want to hear you bitching."

Pregnancy sucks. It's scary, because now you've got what you want, but you are terrified of losing it. It hurts, nearly constantly. It's an emotional drain.

It's also great.

But come on. It also sucks.

It seems like one of those things that women who have never done it feel like you shouldn't be able to complain about it. I know that they really want to know what it's like, but perhaps they should be a little more forgiving since they -don't- know what it's like.

I'll admit, I don't have infertility problems. Nor does my fiance (whee, he just asked). I had other problems. I had the I-get-pregnant-when-you-look-at-me problems. And I heard that bitching all the time, "At least you can GET pregnant."

Seriously. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

I was 20 years old. I had no education. I had no "real" job. I was making 20k a year. I lived in an apartment. And I was single.

Everyone needs to be a little more understanding and empathic with each other. A little less judgmental holier-than-thou my-problems-are-worse-than-yours.

Anyway. Sorry. I'm pissy this morning.

[Kath]

Dear Vanessa, that was a very touching post. What a tough situation, for both you and your friend. It really sounds like she's taking her situation hard -- and that's doubly sad for you, as a friend and as a friend who got pregnant while she didn't. I've had that urge to run after people and comfort them too, but it's no good when just your physical presence causes them pain. It sucks.

And pregnancy after infertility is indeed frightening. The stakes are so dizzyingly high, and it's all uncharted territory. But I think it is inevitable that our audience changes. People may need to protect themselves, or they just can't relate to pregnancy problems (yet), or they don't think you need as much support. To give a very weak example from my perspective, my blog visits tend to peter out once the child is safely there -- it's not that I have no sympathy for breast-feeding worries, or any baby-related worries for that matter, but it's just difficult to relate as intensely. And part of me thinks -- probably misguidedly -- that the new mother doesn't need my support as much as she used to. No doubt, once I'm there, I will change my tune.

[sarah]

I still haven't even worked up the courage to start trying to get pregnant. It all seems so very frightening to me -- every step of the process. I admire your ability to write about your fears and seek the support you need during your pregnancy.

[carey]

It's hard being pregnant, no doubt. We worry about every little thing... there is no being blissfully pregnant for anyone who has gone through infertility. You are robbed of that feeling.

For us, we feel so much more comfortable in the 'trying to get pregnant' arena, even though we technically don't belong there anymore. With Steph being a pediatrician, we even think we'll feel comfortable once the baby arrives. But this in the middle crap - the being pregnant part - it's new territory for us. It's scary.

We've also lost a few friends along the way in our journey... and I understand how hard it is to watch someone have what you so desperately want. It hurts. I just hope that one day, we'll all meet up again and reconnect.

[Carol]

Very powerful post. I feel sad for your friend.

You're brave to say all these things that I think so many of us feel - or maybe feel subconsiously and don't even realize it.

It is scary. After 6 IVF cycles I felt pretty confident that I knew how to do that - I knew what to expect, it was routine and it was no longer scary. But you're right that every day of this experience is uncharted territory for me.

I am blissfilly happy. But I am also terrified.

[donna]

Oh honey, it is scary and I know it feels like you are being ungrateful if you have even a moment of "WTF did I DO????" I remember one night about two weeks after finding out I was pregnant having a complete freak out, sitting on the kitchen floor, crying, saying to my husband "I don't know what on earth made us think this was a good idea!"

It's scary and overwhelming and you have every right to feel anything you feel.

[Margi]

Oh, I do very much know how that isolation feels -- with my falling pregnant unexpectedly at 40. EEEEEVERYONE had advice, my "peers" at the groinocologist's office were half my age, and of course, I had Every Scary Pregnancy Complication in the book.

Please, dear, know that I love you, I'm rooting for you and that I'm always available for an e-mail rant.

But could you please change that sentence up there in paragraph #7? The one that says you cannot have children?

Because you most assuredly are. *wink*

I love you girlie girl.

xoxo

[caltechgirl]

I wish your friend could read what you have written. I'd like to think she would come up and hug you.

Because really, we all need our friends, when we're happy and sad, both.

Hugs and More Hugs to you and the Lemonheads!

[statia]

I always tried to change the subject when we talked during my pregnancy. It was really hard. I knew you were happy for me, but I also had major survivors guilt with you, and very oddly, only you. I cried a lot. I'm glad things worked out the way they did for you. I couldn't be happier. Over the moon for you. I wish I had some wise words. I think you just eventually move on and let it go. You have to.

[Tracey]

That was so sweet and true... I admit it.. a coworker emailed me the other day she was preggo... I said congrats but deep down I was jealous that yet again... someone besides me was preggers... BLAH.. Anyway.. I think you are a great friend offering to skidaddle for her sake :-)

One side note... PICTURES.. I need to see some belly shots... they inspire me :-)

[canape]

If I were ever to plagiarize, this would be what I would take. These words are so true.

[Radish]

I haven't been able to see my good friend because she's had three miscarriages and I'm visibly pregnant. We had a great common bond when I miscarried, but now it's too hard for her to see me. I know it must be awful for her.

And, you're right, pregnancy is really scary. I'm terrified every day that I'm going to lose this one too. You bet your ass I'm gonna race home and listen to the heartbeat on the doppler because I haven't felt much movement today. It's a scary thing.

You wrote a beautiful post.

[Cori]

That is deep. Very well spoken.

[tuesday]

I won't stop reading! :D

[becky]

i feel guilty, too, because it was easier than i expected to get pregnant, and i know it's not for others. and i know that there are so many out there who want what i (we) have. so i try so hard to be sensitive to that.

[Margi]

I forgot to mention: I totally love that Britishism "falling pregnant."

As if I slipped on a banana peel and suddenly found myself with child.

Waaaaaiiiit a minute!!

Heh.

Or, as I splained to my husband's then-22-year-old daughter: "I was just cleaning it and it went off!"

*cough*

I'm going now.

[Mel]

I admit, I haven't commented-- or even goen around to blogs that I loved, but that were lucky in fetusland. It's wrong, I know... but like you said, nothing is really right... I know I've disconnected myself with lots of people- both here, and IRL.. all because no one can come to grips with any side- and me... I can barely come to grips either...

BUT-- I do wish you well, and I know you know it...

[thalia]

I know what you mean. But I also understand why others can't interact with us, no matter how grateful I am for support when they do. Because I no longer feel weighed down by infertility as I did before. I am terrified of stillbirth and cord accidents but I also, deep down in my heart, believe that we'll have a baby in a few months. And I've never felt that before and if you've never felt it, then perhaps it's just too hard to read about it.

[Bea]

Wow. What a situation. That poor woman. I hope you can both do your best for each other. Besides that, what else is there?

Bea

[Jennifer]

Thank you for this post. I'm currently 18 weeks pregnant and became pregnant naturally. My best friend, who's 11 years older than me, has been trying to get pregnant through IVF for 9 years. On Tuesday she called to tell me she'd gotten her first positive result. I am so happy for her, yet nervous for her at the same time. Thnaks for writing about the mixed feelings felt on all sides in this issue.

[Victoria]

Your insight and compassion toward your friend is wonderful. There is no right or wrong way to handle this situation...just go with your heart. I think that's the best you can do.

Hugs to you and the babes!

[Sara]

Vanessa- Good post today. Strangely, that's all i have to say. i think I need to ponder your words a bit, thank you for giving me something to think about...

[jenny]

This post really brought me back to a few months ago. Once your holding your gorgeous babies you'll forget how scary pregnancy is (probably because there is a whole new set of scary shit) but you'll never forget the pain of infertility. Empathy is a good thing to hold onto, even though it isn't always easy.