By Lisa Manterfield
Last year I had the pleasure of doing a podcast interview with Cathy at Slow Swimmers and Fried Eggs. We had an excellent conversation and covered the gamut of topics from the shock of realizing we were infertile to the unexpected benefits of living childfree. One of the questions she asked about my “lightbulb” moment, that one event or conversation or realization that told me I had to stop pursuing my quest for motherhood.
There were several moments that I wrote about in detail in I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home. These were moments when I knew, deep down, that I had to stop treatment and had to find a way to move on without children.
The first was when I was sitting at a bus stop on my way home from my third doctor appointment of the week. I realized that getting pregnant had become a full-time job and that it was consuming every aspect of my life. Case in point, I don’t even remember why I was taking the bus (two buses, actually) to my appointments, but I do remember that this had become my habit. I can picture myself now, staring out the bus window, almost in a trance, so wrapped up my world of infertility, I was barely aware of my actions. I knew then I had lost touch with reality and myself.
Another point came not long after Mr. Fab realized that adoption wasn’t going to be a viable option for us. This really should have been the stopping point, but before long I found myself in the infertility section of the bookstore, browsing a book by a doctor who had performed fertility miracles through Chinese Medicine. I bought the book, even though we’d already traveled far down that road. When I mentioned it to Mr. Fab, he said all the right, supportive things, but I saw his face drop for a moment. I knew that he was wrung out, that he had reached the end of his journey, and that I should have been at the end of mine, too. But by the end of that week, I had an appointment with the miracle doctor and I was back on the bus, both literally and figuratively.
One of my last lightbulb moments came when Mr. Fab’s first grandchild was born. That passing of the motherhood torch to the next generation served to tell me that it was time for my journey to end. I had done all I could, motherhood wasn’t going to happen for me, and I had to let it go.
In between these events, and even after I was sure I would not be a mother, there were many moments of doubt, of second-guessing, of what-ifs. But for every step backwards, I took two steps forward toward recovery, and then three, and then four, until the backward slips became fewer and eventually stopped.
I imagine each of you has a similar story of realization and doubts. What were your “lightbulb” moments and how did you finally know it was time to stop?
You can list to my interview with Cathy here.
When the number of miscarriages got into the teens and I felt emotionally spent. I just couldn’t take another miscarriage.
Like you, I had a few “lightbulb” moments. One in particular happened at work. A coworker asked (after I told her a brief synopsis of our infertility struggle), “Would you rather have a baby and no husband or a husband and no baby?” I had already thought about it and didn’t want just the baby; I wanted the family with my hubby. When I told her I’d rather have my hubby and no baby, she told me I had to “let it go.” That simple advice helped me to truly begin to accept my childless life.
Thanks Brandi – I had a similar conversation in my head. I had promised my husband and myself that each IVF was the last. I truly didn’t think our marriage would survive anymore heartbreak and I didn’t want to lose my husband. I also didn’t believe it would work any more – the odds were too stacked against us. Its taken 4 years to let go though – I still check my calendar dates even though I am now 50 years old and experiencing strong menopause symptoms. its hard to break habits of 20 years! thank you for reminding me that there are other ways to live – the relief of getting on with everyday life is weighing out against the anxiety of treatment. I know I couldn’t go back to that – I have reminded myself regularly though of something I read on your blog – when I see pregnant women or overhear conversations “walk on by – keep walking”. Thank you and everyone here for these posts and sharing. I’m staggered at how up and down this journey is – all the trying years and then learning to let go. Very hard. I don’t think I drop so low though and I keep my focus on my life here and now and push out “what if’s”.
Jane, you made me smile and tear up all at once. You are a very strong lady! I am so humbled that a few of my words have helped you… This community of women is incredible indeed! 🙂
Thanks Brandi – yes its amazing how much it can help to be able to relate to the experience of others. Knowing that what we feel is OK. Acceptance doesn’t mean for me what I thought it would. I think I will always keep walking….I am walking back to my life though and not towards sadness. Thank you again 🙂
My final, final “lightbulb moment” was last year’s gyn app. I asked my gyn about my ability to conceive after the D&C. Her answer was NO. And even though I was “52 years young” and in “great shape” I still had hope…those two letters (NO) really pierced my heart, deeply…
It’s with prayer and trusting God that I believe I am healed from those wounds.
I don’t know if I’ve had a light bulb moment yet. I’m 42 and single. I went into premature menopause and so I cant have kids. Adoption is very expensive. And adoption through the state I live in doesn’t guarantee a child since the birth parent can still get the child back after a period of time. Yet I still have these moments of picturing myself adopting a child. I wonder if I should go through the steps or just forget it. Then I go and watch a documentary on infertility (I know I know). And I find out there are people who freeze extra embryos and you can get them implanted. I start wondering how much that might cost and if its a possibility. Its stupid I know. Ugh. I don’t know.
Christine, nothing you are saying is stupid and it’s okay to be unsure. It takes time to process through the emotions and to figure out what your path is going to be. Just know that there can be some “relief” in accepting a childless life and living the what is. But we each arrive there at our own pace, in our own time. Be gentle with yourself and continue to talk with this amazing childless community. We definitely understand and send you hugs!
Amen!!!
I think that every time I see shows about adopting embryos but then I remind myself that my body just won’t let me.
I had a horrible anxiety attack shortly after my third & final medicated IUI cycle failed, a couple of months after my 40th birthday. I honestly thought I was having a heart attack. Even after my dr confirmed it was not anything heart-related, I was a nervous wreck for weeks afterward. My husband said, “That’s it, no more!” I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop, but I knew I couldn’t keep living like this either. So we took a break, took a trip and by the time we got back, I knew we were done. Secretly, of course, I continued to hope for that “miracle pregnancy ” for a long time afterwards.
A few years later, in my mid-40s, my period was late — right at Christmastime, too. I was surprised at how FURIOUS I was. I felt like I was just getting used to the idea that no, I was not going to have kids, and here was my body jerking me around again. We were visiting my parents & I surreptitiously bought a pregnancy test at a drugstore in the next town over (like I was a guilty teenager…!). I was not pregnant, then or ever afterwards, but my reactions confirmed to me that I was further along in my recovery from infertility treatment than I had thought…!
Mine was watching women after women I KNEW go through IVF and adoptions (successful ones and failed one) and the last infertility doctor appointment and all I saw in his eyes was dollar signs I was done pretty quickly in our journey. From the time we started TTC to the last appointment was only 5 years. I knew I didn’t want to live my life in a constant rollercoaster of IVF doctor appointments. I didn’t want to have that be my life.
Menopause
I gave myself the deadline of age 42 because that’s when most fertility docs will refuse to use your own eggs anymore. It was an arbitrary number in some respects. Just after my 42nd bday, at work I got talking to someone about retirement. I realized that full retirement (age 62) was less than 20 years away. That was it for me. I am still sad that I never had children. More than anything I wish that right now I had a toddler or child going into school, but I have no desire to have a baby now. I am too old, and I want to be able to retire and enjoy it. (Kids in college in my late 60s – grad school needing help into my 70s – no thank you.)
I knew it was time Physically to stop when I started have complications to procedures, infections and Ovarian cysts however I never gave up Mentally. I always considered me a part of the “Mothering” group…taking on the role of caregiver to the parents I became the parent to the parent, teaching children at church I became the parent when the parent was not there or in another classroom and it really became alive when we became “host parents” for an internation teenager…
you can give up Physically however we all have a Mothering Heart and we can find ways to Mother those around us.
I love this, Nita! My husband and I hosted a foreign exchange student as well, and she became family to us. (I wrote about this experience on my blog. You can read about it, if you like. 🙂 http://notsomommy.com/host-family-just-family/ ) You are so right that although we may have to give up physically, that does not mean we have to give up in our hearts. There are lots of other ways to have a “mothering heart.” Thank you for making me smile today!
I’ve always wanted a family not just a baby. Sadly in my younger years I’ve never had a boyfriend or husband to have children with. I met my partner at the age of 37; but he has 3 kids and does not want more. I’ve had a major crying meltdowns along the way most recently at 38 and again recently 39 about not having children or even someone to try with. I’m sure I’ll have more moments of grief . . . as I slowly accept my situation.
But after being on my own for so long at least can say I am now deeply in LOVE. But it still really hurts at times to know that he doesn’t want (more) children with me.