It's Halloween today. Never one of my favorite days, but instead of my usual living vicariously through other people and their children and happily handing out candy like I have the last five years, I'll be hunkered down in bed and hiding inside with the lights off hoping our house makes it through the night unscathed. Hopefully next year will be more festive.
Everyone knows that parenthood is all about sacrifice (of your body, your autonomy, lifestyle, etc., etc), and sadly for infertiles the sacrifice starts long before the kids arrive. Like many others, we've already given up years of our marriage, tens of thousands of dollars, and lots else just for a chance to TTC. For the chance to focus on having a successful pregnancy (or more cycling), I gave up my job in April. In the hopes of bringing our twins to term with an unexpected four months of bed rest, I've given up the chance to do freelance work on top of all the preparation and celebration that usually comes with a complication-free pregnancy. By the time I go back to work in 2013 (potentially), I will have given up hundreds of thousands of dollars and most likely much of the momentum in my career (something my former boss actually pointed out to me after I told him we were expecting twins, thanks for the reminder).
Many people make it through TTC and pregnancy pretty easily, just to be hit with issues once the kid arrives (like my mother and sister both have), but then we are reminded that others give it all just for a chance for themselves or their children.
An online friend of mine passed away last week after a five year battle with cancer. She and her husband were married the same day that DH and I were five years ago, but the very next month she was dx w/cancer. I don't know much about her prognosis at that time, but they ventured on a long journey to not only beat her cancer, but to start a family. After more than three years of both, and with the help of IVF, they welcomed triplets. She tragically passed away just after their first birthday. It is difficult to imagine what one would do when faced with situations and decisions like these, it is so heartbreaking. It is just impossible to know until and unless you are faced with them, I guess.
Over the summer, my mother was telling me about a friend of hers from her hometown who in the early 70s, when they were both starting their families, was also dx w/cancer. In the three years that my mother had my two older sisters, her friend had three kids and then, unbeknownst to nearly everyone, had gotten pg again. This was around the time she first got her dx. She apparently was told they could treat her if she wasn't pg, but as a devout Catholic she had no interest in terminating. Her baby was later delivered early and she passed away within hours. Afterwards, my grandmother had told my mother she'd often seen her at St. Patrick's just praying, but she, like everyone else, didn't know what was going on. Her husband was left with four children under five and no wife. To many's surprise (but not mine), after meeting a fellow widow in a support group, he promptly remarried (she w/three young kids of her own) and they were married and raised all their kids over several decades together. His second wife passed away recently when my mother was back in town, which is why she was telling me this story that she had never told me before, which caused me to sob like a baby at the thought of what her friend and her family must have gone through all those years ago and since.
Obviously, there just are no guarantees. Some people get handed a raw deal and have to make choices to remain without children or for their kids to live without a parent and spouse without a partner. Others sadly don't have real choices and some are lucky enough not to even be faced with similar situations and their reality is to be dismayed by the minor inconveniences of TTC, pregnancy and post-pg life. If I had a dollar for every suburban housewife friend (but ironically not my model friends) who can't deal with their post-pg body... It is possible to tell yourself that others are always worse off, but I really don't think it's possible to really understand what any of this would be like unless you endure them yourself.
I, as always, am thankful and hopeful.
Everyone knows that parenthood is all about sacrifice (of your body, your autonomy, lifestyle, etc., etc), and sadly for infertiles the sacrifice starts long before the kids arrive. Like many others, we've already given up years of our marriage, tens of thousands of dollars, and lots else just for a chance to TTC. For the chance to focus on having a successful pregnancy (or more cycling), I gave up my job in April. In the hopes of bringing our twins to term with an unexpected four months of bed rest, I've given up the chance to do freelance work on top of all the preparation and celebration that usually comes with a complication-free pregnancy. By the time I go back to work in 2013 (potentially), I will have given up hundreds of thousands of dollars and most likely much of the momentum in my career (something my former boss actually pointed out to me after I told him we were expecting twins, thanks for the reminder).
Many people make it through TTC and pregnancy pretty easily, just to be hit with issues once the kid arrives (like my mother and sister both have), but then we are reminded that others give it all just for a chance for themselves or their children.
An online friend of mine passed away last week after a five year battle with cancer. She and her husband were married the same day that DH and I were five years ago, but the very next month she was dx w/cancer. I don't know much about her prognosis at that time, but they ventured on a long journey to not only beat her cancer, but to start a family. After more than three years of both, and with the help of IVF, they welcomed triplets. She tragically passed away just after their first birthday. It is difficult to imagine what one would do when faced with situations and decisions like these, it is so heartbreaking. It is just impossible to know until and unless you are faced with them, I guess.
Over the summer, my mother was telling me about a friend of hers from her hometown who in the early 70s, when they were both starting their families, was also dx w/cancer. In the three years that my mother had my two older sisters, her friend had three kids and then, unbeknownst to nearly everyone, had gotten pg again. This was around the time she first got her dx. She apparently was told they could treat her if she wasn't pg, but as a devout Catholic she had no interest in terminating. Her baby was later delivered early and she passed away within hours. Afterwards, my grandmother had told my mother she'd often seen her at St. Patrick's just praying, but she, like everyone else, didn't know what was going on. Her husband was left with four children under five and no wife. To many's surprise (but not mine), after meeting a fellow widow in a support group, he promptly remarried (she w/three young kids of her own) and they were married and raised all their kids over several decades together. His second wife passed away recently when my mother was back in town, which is why she was telling me this story that she had never told me before, which caused me to sob like a baby at the thought of what her friend and her family must have gone through all those years ago and since.
Obviously, there just are no guarantees. Some people get handed a raw deal and have to make choices to remain without children or for their kids to live without a parent and spouse without a partner. Others sadly don't have real choices and some are lucky enough not to even be faced with similar situations and their reality is to be dismayed by the minor inconveniences of TTC, pregnancy and post-pg life. If I had a dollar for every suburban housewife friend (but ironically not my model friends) who can't deal with their post-pg body... It is possible to tell yourself that others are always worse off, but I really don't think it's possible to really understand what any of this would be like unless you endure them yourself.
I, as always, am thankful and hopeful.
