The Apology

This is the post wherein the humble blogger details with contrition all the reasons for abandoning this space, though I’m not sure I feel much remorse, if I’m being candid. I created this writing space for me, initially, and it seems to have diminished in its purpose. While this is pure conjecture, I get the sense that my audience has dwindled as infertiles, formerly in need of solidarity, moved on to parenthood and stopped reading blogs, and those still reading struggle to understand and empathize with my choices. I am not pursuing adoption or working through acceptance of childlessness, as I suspect many readers think I ought to after everything that’s happened to me in pursuit of a biological child. I am, in fact, still problem-solving my way through OEIVF, so telling my story has started to feel staid and stodgy, repetitive and tedious. I’m reticent to burden the universe with such updates since it feels somewhat narcissistic to do so, and I have exactly zero interest in justifying my choices to anyone outside of my marriage. I find there is a tacit contract inherent to blogging such personal aspects of my life in which they almost become public property, like agreeing to go on a reality TV show, and that creates an imperative to defend my story, either against the onslaught of comments or the judgement that oozes from silence.

I am only compelled to return because I have received comments and emails from readers whose words swell achingly with varying degrees of angst and isolation; it’s them I regret abandoning. It always takes me by surprise that anyone is even reading my stupid little story about trying like mad to make a baby, particularly since it’s something that most people do with such ease, but I remember the blogs that first drew me into this sphere and how I hung on every word to feel less alone in a family-centric world, with its hostile obstacle course of swollen bellies and  Mother’s Day brunches. Hello to you, sister-friends. I’m terribly sorry for your grief, as I know it all too well.

So the update? I have been waiting to wait, as they say, and making incremental progress toward a transfer while busying myself with life stuff. Since the efforts of winter devolved into an utterly absurd episode of reproductive tomfoolery seemingly right out of a Lewis Carroll story, I have (probably) cleared out my scar tissue. Arranging that surgery and trying to get to the bottom of why it formed and what the risks were for cutting into it was a convoluted process involving several doctors with conflicting insights and prognoses, which really shook my faith in the quality of care at RMA-NJ.  Nevertheless, the surgeon did the clean-up at the end of April, and that was followed by a few weeks of estrogen therapy to heal the lining. I had a 3D saline sono earlier this month to evaluate whether the surgery was successful, and my uterus looked clear with none of the previous puckering from bands pulling at the walls. Right now I am finishing out the school year, which has consumed a lot of my mental energy this spring. In the hours outside of work, I have my hands in the soil most weekends, transplanting rose bushes out of the courtyard to make way for a deck in its place. I am continuing to reconnect with my mom and relishing some new friendships sprung from the transfer to the high school last year. I have a tall stack of books beckoning from my shelf, just waiting for me to finish grades on Monday or Tuesday. Tomorrow we plan to pack the beach umbrella and the picnic basket for a day at the Jersey Shore after monitoring in the morning. We’ve talked loosely about camping this summer, maybe a long weekend on the New England coast, and a transfer some time in July.

See? Just boring regular life stuff. I’ve struck a kind of strange, tenuous peace with my infertility where the waiting is less excruciating and ART is more of a side-project than the dominating focus of my days. Call it compartmentalization or, I don’t know, self-preservation, but this is a more livable existence, and blogging only refocuses my attention on what I want and don’t have, making this a blithe and fruitful hiatus.

31 thoughts on “The Apology

  1. I have survived without your blog, though I’m pleased when you post. Of course, I’m a world away from infertility. You probably have more knowledge of the present limitations of medical science than most. The docs try their best, but don’t have all the answers, much as we wish they did. The books, the Shore, and the New England Coast sound like healthy decisions. Be well.

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    • Well, it’s not so simple as the limits of medical science. It was more negligent than that – like a totally inaccurate report that was the basis of decisions and prognosis, my doctor’s refusal to pull up the actual pictures from my two procedures in July and Feb, and ultimately a surgeon who revealed the misrepresentation of the original scarring after that fact. Whatever. I’m just glad it’s resolved. Thanks for the well-wishes!

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  2. I think of you from time to time and hope that you are okay. I stumbled upon your blog while researching CCRM protocols. I am glad you did not give up and wishing you the best on your upcoming transfer. Enjoy the Jersey Shore. Please, keep us posted.

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  3. I stumbled across your blog while doing a search on IVF and infertility – and in all honesty a search to feel less alone in this endless cycle of wishing, hoping, praying,…and waiting for a miracle. Reading your blog has helped me in countless ways and I thank you for it. I respect all your choices, (it’s your journey, not mine) including this one and wish you nothing but the best.

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  4. I read your blog as soon as I get the email that you’ve posted! I found it based on infertility of course, but I’ve kept reading because I love your writing. Thanks for the update! Also working in education, I can say, enjoy this time of year and a much-deserved break from school. Best wishes!

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  5. I love your blog and your words! I check on you from time to time hoping for an update. My heart aches for your journey and hopes for the best for you.

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  6. I understand the ambivalence about writing what might feel old and duplicitous by now. Not that you need consolation (dog f**king forbid! Consolation be damned) but it is never that for me to read your posts, however sporadic or sparse in particulars. And screw whomever may judge your choices. The shameless stupidity of our predilection to judge drives me batty. Best with it all, from soil to cycles.

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    • Well, thanks for that. I think I was just explaining the multitude of reasons why I have been tongue-tied. Not that I have been under attack, just a sense and a turning away from it. Thanks for the well-wishes ❤

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  7. I have stopped counting the number of well-meaning friends and family members who have asked “Any news?” “Where are you guys at now?” “What’s the latest?” and since we’re still clinging on to Plan A, four years in, I have no update for them this year. I want to shout “Look friend, your role is to be there IF I need to talk about it, which is fairly often, but not right now.” But then I’d just sound like a b*tch, so I just say “Plodding along.” “Keeping on keeping on.” “No positive updates.” No news is well, no news. So if you need to ditch the blog for a while (or forever) we readers understand. The waiting can be brutal, so just know we other infertiles understand, and we’re rooting for you. Not only to become a mother but also just to stay sane and as content as possible during the sh*tty ‘plodding along’ phase.

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    • How sad is it that no one even asks anymore. I mean, sensitive, yes, because it means I don’t have to explain (thank God). But also they have sort of given up, I think.

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    • Flattering, thank you. I probably won’t disappear. There’s just no telling when I’ll reappear. Maybe I need to broaden the subject matter. Infertility and politics? (I’m obsessed with this election.)

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  8. Be well on your journey – you have helped me enormously through mine. Don’t give up; it really doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks. I for one have not given up on you and from a somewhat esoterical stance, I believe that there was a reason that donor story was so utterly ridiculous – a divine tragedy if you like – encouraging you to continue towards your dream. Trudge on and keep that sense of peace. Letting go a little doesn’t equate to giving up.

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    • Letting go vs. giving up: I totally agree. I weirdly feel like the ‘never give up’ mantra has been pretty vilified in this community of late, and I’m hesitant to make that my public message, though it pretty much is my internal one.

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  9. “I have exactly zero interest in justifying my choices to anyone outside of my marriage.”
    As it should be. I felt very much the same when I was going through this many years ago.

    I’m all for the “never give up” if it works for you, and all for you blogging about it if that’s what you want to do and say. It’s not for everyone, but then what is?

    So if you’re enjoying your “blithe and fruitful hiatus,” then I’m very pleased for you.

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  10. I have lurked now and then for over a year, but haven’t commented before since I’ve only shown up years into your blog. Nevertheless I’m commenting now just to assure you of the existence of at least one reader who absolutely empathizes with your choice to persevere and checks in from time to time when in need of a little boosting to persevere herself. In fact, you’re a role model 😉

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  11. I’ve searched all over your blog for an email address but you remain stubbornly anonymously “A.” I wanted to tell you that over the past few weeks I’ve considered and started writing a book about my own infertility purgatory, but I found your blog today (by googling “donor egg regret”) and realized it had already been written. Not my exact story, but you have put this experience into so many eloquent words and I hope you are using your talents well because they are substantial. What a random old post for me to put this comment into–I hope you read it! XOXOX.

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