myendojourney

where our infertility journey began

Posted on: December 18, 2011


week forty three

The past few weeks have been emotionally some of the most challenging, painful  days. Starting with the announcement of a good friend of mine that she too had entered the ‘parent-to-be’ category with a first class VIP pass all the way. This seemingly simple announcement started off within me a chain reaction of emotions. Feelings that once opened burst out of my core as if a cork had been popped from a bottle of champagne.

Learning to hide my emotions has become my leading role.  Generally people ask ‘am I alright with it?’ , ‘how does it make you feel’ or you get the opposite where people skirt around the subject – either way the outcome is the same, people don’t want to listen to your response. People can’t listen because they can’t change it.  Their sympathy has a shelf-life.

Perhaps my most painful discovery recently has been that suddenly I have realised that it is not only those around me that like to avoid asking how I feel and truly be prepared for the answer. I don’t really want to know either.  I can’t run, hide, cross the street or just avoid the subject.  My mind is not forgiving, it does not speak to my head or heart – listening would mean I need to acknowledge the pain that sits within me.  I am not okay with the almost daily pregnancy announcements at work or within my personal life.  I have to admit I am so cross,  so so so angry that I will never feel the way a woman does when she utters those words ‘we have  a little announcement’.

Maybe something is in the water but pregnancy announcements are just prolific at the moment; Yet another friend told me at the weekend that without even trying they are now pregnant with their second child.  They always wanted a second,  but hadn’t decided when,  fate dealt them a hand and their new edition will be with us by the summer of 2012. I am ashamed to admit that more of me is cross and upset than happy for them …… maybe that makes me a bad person?  How rude of them, and insulting that they would then send me a christmas card from them all ‘and bump’.

Writing for me has become a form of therapy yet as time passes it has become harder and harder to admit my true feelings.  Writing this blog has given me an avenue to explore my feelings, to document from my soul how this experience has been for me.  As time has gone on more and more of my family & friends have discovered my blog. At so many stages I have nearly stopped writing; frightened to continue for fear of saying too much or upsetting those close to me.  It has taken me sometime to come to terms with the fact that they now know me warts and all.  They now know how crippled emotionally my infertility has made me, how endometriosis has robbed me of my womanhood.  I could never have verbalised how I have made the ultimate sacrifice. It makes me feel naked and raw like someone has just put lime juice in to an open cut. A huge part of me believes that I have done the right thing bearing all on this blog – it has become my therapy, my indulgence, my story. Yet a part of me is scared that they now actually know too much.

Recently I have taken up running – this serves two purposes primarily to raise my fitness level which has drastically depleated since my op and the onset of the menopause and secondly to give me time away from everything.  This space has given me time to almost mediate and work through the abundance of feelings and emotions that I have been struggling with.  I recognise that often when I am emotional or in a stressful situation a nauseous feeling embraces me.  With my heightened emotional state recently I have wanted to understand what sparks this feeling off in me, why in particular do I feel sick. Physical pain connected to the endometriosis has always  made me feel sick – I now know that this is common in sufferers of chronic pain but mentally there is more of a connection.

Meditating & running has given myself the space to explore why pregnancy announcements, pregnant women, new born babies affect me in this way.  Suddenly last Sunday I discovered the answer.  I was transported back in time and found myself sitting patiently in a room that smelt sterile,  where the walls were covered with posters on condoms, STI’s,  signs of infertility,  ways to boost your fertility levels……………… I had been taken right back to our first appointment with the fertility clinic.  Perhaps these appointments are traumatic for everyone, I guess the very reason you are there is traumatic enough as it is.  This experience will always stand out in my mind, at the time our local hospital’s fertility clinic was actually based right next to the maternity ward.  The smell of new born babies filled the air.  As I meditated,  all of the hopes, dreams and beliefs that I could be helped filled my bones.  I could imagine coming back and having my ultra sound, I could imagine being pregnant, I could imagine being a Mum. Like a jolt of realisation it clicked, I don’t quite understand how it works but somewhere in my mind there is a connection with that memory and the nausea that I feel.  When I actually listen to my inner feelings I am 27 again;  sat on my hands,  looking longingly at the poster that shows the stats connected to infertility – praying that I will be one of the 1 in 3 that they help to have a baby. Of course for me it was the only outcome I could possibly imagine.

We did go back to the clinic many times,  we had many ultra sounds; all with the same outcome, our pregnancies were not viable – no one could tell you why, when or how, but within days my body would reject that tiny little baby that we wanted so dearly

This journey has been too huge to process all in one go,  for some reason part of me needs to relive some of these memories and process what happened. Digest each stage and revisit how it made me – us feel.  The level of feelings within me at the moment makes me feel that I am getting to the heart of my loss – I am finding the woman who has been lost within a web of chronic illness, pain, longing and treatments.

I can’t say realising this connection has made the nausea better – it has made me appreciate and recognise its existence.

It has made me feel less of a freak.

Regards

Endosister Liz

xx

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Roses of Endometriosis

From the beginning right back to before my operation

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