The Weirdness

It was weird the first time we said it out loud. Before we said it out loud, it was just a nagging question in the back of our heads, "why aren't we getting pregnant?" We would talk about it, but in talking about it, we would never name it. We would talk about ovulation, we would discuss theories and what "some people say," but we never named it. When we finally did, it was supremely weird.

Infertility.

It belongs to those set of words that don't ever apply to you. They belong to someone else. Other people have their house broken into, not me. Other people get mugged, not me. Other people overdose, not me. Other people are molested, not me. Other people are raped, not me. Other people are diabetic, not me. Other people run into celebrities, not me. But . . . apparently . . . other people get pregnant, not us.

I must stop this blog right here and now to say we do not hold that against anybody. While every pregnancy announcement is tinged in just a bit of sadness and jealousy on our part, we have nothing but joy and excitement for you. Please do not feel bad for us. We can't do anything with your pity so please, don't waste yours on us. I actually had someone apologize to me recently because she was pregnant and we still weren't. Please, please, do not apologize. You have nothing to feel bad about. The point of this blog is not to throw a pity party for the Foggs. It is to chronicle our journey through particular point in our life, to let people know what's going on, and (hopefully) let others know that they're not alone.

Now where was I? Ah yes. The weirdness.

It was weird when we first said the "I" word. It was weird when we admitted it to our parents. It was weird the first time we told our friends. But the weirdness has abated. It's just life now. It's just a part of who we are. It's not something we think about on an hourly basis (I'd like to say it's not something we don't think about on a daily basis, but that's just not true). Every once in a while, though, the weirdness is brought back up and rubbed in our faces. Today was one of those days.

We went to The Fertility Center today. It wasn't weird that I used to work there. It wasn't weird that I still know people who work there. It was weird being somewhere where everyone knows what's wrong with you. If I'm at work, I'm just that friendly, bald, video game guy. If I'm with my friends, I'm the loud one in the corner who won't shut up about Doctor Who. But to the receptionist, the delivery man, and all the other patients in the waiting room, I'm something or someone just a little bit broken. I'm someone who desperately wants something he can't have. I'm someone who's most intimate, personal part of him isn't working. And while the doctors say there's nothing wrong with either of us, we're still in the waiting room, stuck in the dream where you walk into work naked.

I try to pretend it isn't weird, but it's weird. It's not as weird as these psychotic and sad people, but it's weird.

I'm looking forward to an unweird life. This experience has forever marked us, though. We'll always be that couple. But I'm okay with that. I'm okay with telling our story. I'm okay with answering questions. I'd like to hear other people's stories. But nothing will ever cure this weirdness -- nothing, I imagine, but the closing of this chapter and the start of the next one.

-=S

Third Thursday

Thursday is not my favorite day of the week. I’ll admit it. I may be prejudice against it, but I am not a fan of Thursdays. Thursday for me is like everyone else’s Monday. If I am going to be inexplicably running late, it will be Thursday. If I am running late AND have an 8:30 am meeting, it will be Thursday. It started back when I worked at summer camp. Thursday evenings were staff social night and for some reason I would usually get thrown in the pool fully dressed by my then boyfriend (current husband). There is just something about Thursday that has not sat right with me ever since.

So in an effort to brighten my outlook on the day, I picked Thursday to be the day for my church group to meet. You know, something to look forward to. A pre-weekend bright spot.

This blog has, so far, focused on our adoption journey. The missing piece has been: why we are pursuing adoption now? Scott and I have always talked about having a child and then adopting our second child. That was the plan at least. After two years of “trying” and six months of Clomid treatments (not fun) we have been unable to conceive. It has been a bittersweet two years. We have watched our friends, co-workers, and distant acquaintances conceive and have babies. We’ve been blessed to be part of the miraculous arrivals of our new “niece” and “nephews.” It is touching to be so close with people that you are invited to meet their child when he/she is only hours old. It has also been sad for us to watch from the sidelines.

Infertility. It is a word I have avoided. And I am the one who argues that words only have power if you let them. Well I have let it intimidate me. It is a lonely place because you don’t really want to talk about it, no one else does either. You feel like you must be the only one. When I pause to think rationally though, I know that I am not the only one. I can’t be. If I am hurting and feeling this sense of loss (can you miss something you never had?) there are other people who are feeling this too.

So I finally built up the courage to do what God has been calling me to do for some time: Start a support group for women experiencing infertility and pregnancy loss. It is a small, slowly growing group. It feels good to reach out to someone else. So, on the third Thursday of each month at 7pm you will find me with a small group in an upstairs room of the Collegedale Community Church, making someone’s Thursday a little better. Maybe even my own.