Conquering Infertility (or something like that)

I started reading a book tonight that my REI (Reproductive Endocrinologist)’s nurse recommended a few months ago. The book is called Conquering Infertility by Alice Domar, PhD. Reading is my escape. When I open a book, I want to experience a life that I will never know. Maybe that’s why this book–along with her other book, Self-Nurture, and a third book called It Starts with the Egg by Rebecca Fett–have sat on my book-shelf, unopened, and collecting dust for months. The thought of using my precious free time, my rare moments of escape, to read about infertility has been enough to drive me to tears.

About a week ago, when I started fearing this cycle was another failure, I moved the book to the side table by my recliner. Tonight, being 99% sure this cycle has failed, I opened it and began reading. I have officially passed the TWW (two week wait), and all tests are still negative. 

Maybe there’s something in it that I am not doing. 

In the last few minutes, I have read the first 30 pages. While I’ve taken a short break to do some writing, I think I can do it. I think I can stomach this book. And, even more so, I think it may help. 

I’m not going to find a secret miracle cure hidden within these 285 pages. It’s not that kind of book. Instead, it focuses on a mind/body approach to conquer infertility. And by that, it does not mean “get pregnant”. It means pursuing infertility in a way in which my mind and body do not feel like they have been taken hostage. 

Dear Reader, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have been blinking twice for help for months. I am amidst a full-blown hostage situation. Feel free to send in the crisis negotiator, but if he opens with: It seems to me you’re feeling angry about something, I can’t be blamed for throwing an empty Kleenex box in such a way that the pointy corner is aimed for his eyeball. 

In the introductory chapter, the book likens the stress and anxiety of dealing with infertility to that of driving and having to dodge a deer that jumps in front of your car. Over and over again. Maybe when you read that sentence you felt that little jolt in your heart, similar but more intense than the one you get when you fly by a cop on the interstate (Pretend you didn’t read that, Justin, and just imagine me only ever driving 5mph over the limit like you prefer.). Whether it’s a deer or a cop you’re picturing, I am sure you can relate to the feeling. You also know that, while it may take a few miles, your heartbeat eventually leaves your ears, making its way slowly back down to your chest. Imagine this exact scenario happening every 45 minutes of a long drive. THIS is exactly what infertility feels like. When I read these few pages, I felt seen. It is a constant cycle of high stress and heartbreak. Sometimes I feel like I can’t even breathe. 

I am hoping that, through reading this book, I learn some strategies that work for me in managing this stress roller coaster. Even if it’s just being cognizant of my energy and the energies around me. 

I have never understood those adults that seem to thrive in negative energy and gossip. As I have been going (read: trudging) through this journey the last 6 months, I have become hyper-aware of my stress levels. I have been intentional in those with whom I surround myself. My plate is full and my shoulders feel heavy, but by choosing to not be around negative people and energies, I have been able to move forward, and though sometimes it’s really damn hard, hold my head up. 

I don’t think this advice is specific to those battling infertility. Take a look at the people around you. What is their energy? What is your energy? What are you putting out into the world? 

Don’t start rolling your eyes at me just yet. I can assure you that I am no Mary Poppins. I am not taking a spoonful of sugar with my overflowing handful of pills and supplements every day. I still cry and scream and complain that this whole thing is (insert 4 letter word here) unfair. I still struggle with major anxiety and have days where I doubt myself. I avoid looking at babies  and get a full on catch in my chest every time I am out in public and hear one cry. And I have a few people in my life who I have let in enough to see the dark and ugly side of what I am going through. 

BUT…I also do believe in the power of positive energy. I am learning to breathe. And I am *trying* to control my stress as best as I can. I wear three bracelets everyday that say: Strength, Fearless, and Hope. These words are my mantra. 

And while none of this has exactly worked out for me yet, it’s given me the hope to think that it still might. And it’s giving me the strength to conquer infertility. Or at least be fearless enough to poke it in the eyeball with the pointy end of my Kleenex box. 

(three. twenty-four. twenty-two)

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