By Lisa Manterfield
In the very early stages of our relationship. Mr. Fab and I discovered all sorts of odd things we had in common, one of which is that we both played the trombone as teenagers. Anyway, we’ve been talking about learning to play again, and we finally found a used instrument in good condition.
The main difference between a trombone and other brass instruments is that you make the notes by moving a slide up and down, rather hitting a key. It makes it a lot more difficult to hit just the right note. It’s also what makes the trombone so much fun to play, because you can slide easily from note to note, up and down and back again.
The reason I’m telling you all this is that today I’ve been thinking a lot about the whole coming-to-terms process. I’ve been thinking about it in terms of school grades, with the freshman class having just made the decision to live childfree or to stop fertility treatments, and having no idea how to start getting used to the idea. They eventually graduate to acceptance and begin to find a way to get happy, and ultimately go on to live a full and happy life without children.
But it’s really not that simple. You never really do hit all the notes precisely and in order. It’s much more like playing a trombone, where you slide from one state to the next and sometimes back again. One day, you’re content and determined to make the most of your situation, then something happens to trigger all those old emotions and you find yourself sliding back down. Then you get to talk someone who understands you and you feel like you can really figure this out…until your friend announces a pregnancy and back down you go again.
So, I’m wondering, where are you on the sliding scale of coming-to-terms? Where are you right now and have you been better or been worse? Do you feel that, even though you have setbacks, you’re slowly moving towards a place of peace, or can you see no way to ever come-to-terms with your lot in life? Or have you already been up and down the scale and have finally found a place of contentment? I’d like to know.
I don’t really know!!! I am certainly better than I have been at times, although I can still be blind sided by things. I can’t say that I anticipate ever fully coming to terms with it. Being a mom was a dream/plan of mine ever since I can remember. So I feel like I diverged from that path, and although the path I am on is pretty, I can always see glimpses of the other path through the trees… And although I cannot go back and change paths, it still holds a part of my heart that I will never get back.
I think you have described this process perfectly. I feel that one of the most frustrating aspects is that there frequently seems to be something ripping the band aid of healing off. People who do not truly understand seem to judge and make me feel bad, for feeling bad/sad/mad etc. I wish that I could just heal and move on, but I know that it is not that simple and I will always be biter – some days will just be different than others.
I am not in a good place right now. I started a new job and most of the women I work with have young children and they have been going on and on about their babies going back to school. Now I feel like I have to explain all over again why we don’t have children, and frankly, I’m just tired of it. The only time I feel half way free from grief is when we are off traveling. But many days I wake up and still can’t believe that I don’t have at least one child.
I love this analogy, Lisa. It’s never as easy as simply graduating and going off out into the world. Though perhaps it is – because even when we’re out in the world, we’re reminded of traumas from high school, I’m not sure. Anyway, the sliding scale is right. You can (I imagine, I’m a piano and flute player, not trombone) play a piece perfectly and easily one day, and the next struggle to hit the notes. Even as we get better and better, we’re never quite perfect. Maybe that’s just life?
The sliding scale is such a good metaphor. I’m on my way up again – after a long hard slog. Going back to school posts haven’t bothered me much, which is a great sign. I know myself well enough to avoid the newly pregnant women when I can.
I’m starting to see the value of what I have right now- and am less focused on all of the hurts. The pain isn’t gone, but I’m finally able to appreciate a little more how much value my life has right now – that I have a wonderful husband, friends and family, even if that wasn’t all that I wanted. Even being able to see that is a sign of progress.
It’s definitely a rollercoaster and I feel that coming to terms with it is (and may always be) a work in progress. It’s like playing an instrument not only in the sense of the sliding scale, but also in the sense that it takes practice. I’m just coming up from a low time (at least I hope I’m on the way up) and I find myself having to put into practice the daily tricks that I’ve learned to get me through the hard times: consciously feeling grateful for what I have and actually counting my blessings (on my fingers if need be), spending quality time with the hubs and remembering that we couldn’t do some of the fun stuff that we do if we had kids, QUICKLY scrolling past the baby/kiddie pics or IVF success posts on Facebook and not lingering…these kinds of things. But for me it takes lots and lots of practice.
As a teacher I’m lucky. I love what I do and working with the kids gives me a taste of parenthood which definitely helps me to cope. The sting of a childless life isn’t as profound during the school year because, let’s face it, by the end of the day I’m freakin’ exhausted and quite content with coming home to a husband and two cats. That’s not to say the pain isn’t there, it’s just much farther in the background on most days. It’s the summer months that are the killers for me. That’s why I’m the only lunatic I know who can’t wait until September.
All in all, I need to remind myself to practice my survival skills, and hope that one day I’ll fully come to terms with this and have some peace and quiet in my soul.
I started coming to terms with the fact that kids just weren’t going to happen about two years ago right now (mid to late August 2014). SO, two years now. It’s definitely better, but it does come and go. I like the analogy.
Having been through one full round (year) of the holiday and significant days, this year is much better than last. There are definitely triggers I try to avoid, but yes, it gets easier with each time said trigger passes. I actually got through an entire 5 day vacation without even thinking about the fact that we didn’t have kids to bring with us….
So yes, it does get better. I think a LOT of it comes with knowing yourself, and honoring those times when you just have to say “NO. I am not going to go down the road of sadness today.” – “NO, I am not going to open this box where I keep my “for baby someday” stuff.” – “I will stay off Facebook on certain holidays.” (I’m lookin’ at you, Halloween.)
Getting to know those things helps bring some strength. Just as with physical muscles, the only way to get stronger is to practice and to use those emotional muscles.
I just stumbled on this blog and it’s really helping me. I’m not new to infertility, but new to sort of surrendering to our childless lifestyle. I’d absolutely put myself in that freshmen class category, looking for a tribe and a foundation to build my new normal on. Everyone in my life at 32 is either trying for kids or militantly childless by choice (the kind screaming so loudly “pfft! Who’d want kids anyway?! I love money and freedom!” you wonder who they’re really trying to convince).
I’m a cancer survivor and we can’t adopt legally – and I think it’s high time I get good and square with this version of my life. I’m glad to read there are other women out there like me that are taking it one day at a time and supporting each other. Thanks for your blog post!
Becky, thank you for sharing. I too am 32 and for the last few months am crawling towards accepting this child-free not by choice life. I have lupus, scleroderma, hypothyroidism and hypertension. I’ve been on meds for years that don’t recommend getting pregnant. We got pregnant once in 2012 and miscarried at 8 weeks. Been trying ever since despite docs orders and no luck. My cycles are way off balance so OB put me on birth control (i had refused it for the last two years) feels like I just finally gave up…I’ve been up and down the scale..today i’m way down…to may references to pregnancy all around me…I had a great weekend though doing things with the hubs that I actually cringed when I saw people with kids cause I really was enjoying my freedom. I guess you post spoke to me, because it’s not just my infertility keeping me from kids but it’s my health…even when we’ve wanted to try fertility treatments no one would let us…docs refused because of my health or my meds…I don’t know if i’ll ever be healthy enough to conceive naturally and we just don’t want to adopt and doubt anyone would give us a kid with my health issues. (I know many women with lupus who have had kids naturally so it’s frustrating for me not to be able to, but I know my health comes first). I just want to be happy with my hubs and our two dogs and not get emotional about all this. I want to feel fulfilled with everything I do have and not linger on what I don’t.
Jasmine,
If it helps, I too have an irregular cycle as well. One of the chemo treatments I did essentially destroyed all of my eggs, which put my body into menopause (at 26 – good times!). My GYN put me on birth control as well, but after a few years I hated the side effects, and the fact that it was essentially keeping any miracle babies from happening. I ended up seeing a hormone specialist (mine is here – http://www.annmarietommeymd.com/ – but I’m sure there are some all over!) who basically tested the heck out of my blood to determine my hormone levels, then put me on bio-identical hormone replacement. It’s really rare, and it’s been quite a journey (I’ve been on them about a year, and I’m still trying to find the right balance) but I feel WORLDS better than I did when I was on birth control, both mentally and physically. It might be worth looking into, though at least for me it wasn’t cheap. I’ve probably spent close to 3k between doctors visits and the medication itself. None of it was covered by my insurance.
Anyway, good luck on your journey – I know that when I was sick, suggestions on how to get better came from the strangest places, so I hope you find something that works!
I found this blog on the right day. In terms of the sliding scale, I am low today. I found out of my cousin is having another baby. There are a number of triggers that cause me to go low–pregnancy announcements, seeing young families together, people complaining about their children (I would give anything to have a child to complain about), baby shower stuff, old people that are alone with no family, etc. That last one is my greatest fear. If we don’t have children, will we die alone (no one at our bedside)? My husband and I have been trying to have a baby for almost two years, while our peers and family members have been joyfully growing their families. We watch on the sidelines. Infertility is one of the hardest things to deal with (after losing my father).