From even the title of this chapter, I was intrigued. Finally, someone was putting into words what my most difficult struggle with infertility has been- my expectations (my hopes, dreams, beliefs) of becoming a parent have been completely eroded by infertility. This is a concept my husband doesn't seem to understand- he tells me I focus too much on the process and all that matters is that somehow, someday we end up as parents. Personally, I'd just as soon know the how and when, thank you very much.
The authors posit that each of us has a unique reproductive story made up of the images that we acquire from a lifetime of interactions, including our interactions with our own parents. I always knew that having babies wasn't an easy thing. I knew about the miscarriage before my birth and the six losses (some late in pregnancy) after that my mother suffered through. I knew that losing babies was a reality and my psyche somehow absorbed that fact. But no one ever explained about male factor infertility- there wasn't even a screen for that radar to appear.
I wanted to be a mother ever since I can remember. Because I was a teenager when my two sisters came along, I got a taste of mommyhood. I did my share of bottles, diapers, and late nights (probably more than my share since I was only 14) in taking care of them. I was the only kid in high school who had two baby seats in my back seat and it was my job to pick them up from the babysitter and preschool. As a result, I didn't have idealized notions of what having children really means, but I have been ready for so long to have a baby to call my own.
This chapter also gives the example of the internal timetable being off balance. This is exactly how I feel. I had a plan, damnit, and it's not working out in the time and manner it was supposed to. I ended up getting married later in life than I had planned, but still within the realm of reproductive normalcy for my peers. We waited a little over a year after the wedding to start to ttc and after we had purchased a house- the house with the perfect nursery. We did it right and in the right order. And now here we sit more than twenty months later and very little hope of a pregnancy in this calendar year, forget a baby. I was supposed to be working on baby #2 by now.
The final part of the chapter deals with writing out one's resproductive story and the benefits of journalling. The authors suggest having both partners write out his or her story. I think this is a wonderful idea, but fear DH wouldn't participate. From what I have gleaned, he does have a reproductive story but it seems to revolve more on interactions with an older child (I believe he is stumped by infants). I feel my blog serves the other purposes of journalling as described by the authors- finding an outlet for feelings and tracking medical procedures. I like to imagine that the authors would be quite happy with our little blog ring of discussion.
To read further thoughts about this chapter, check out this blog
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
i loved reading your post
This was a great post. It covered the range of emotions and frustrations we experience, and I could really *feel* how ready you are for motherhood.
I totally get the "we should be working on baby #2 by now."
I hope you're finding the book helpful.
Your post has hit the nail right on the head for me. I am not reading the book (can't find it in stores - but hope to order soon). However, I am trying to follow it through the blogs and find that your posts are great! And I totally know the feeling of "I had a plan, damnit . . ." I found myself saying that a lot over the past 2 years but as I discussed in my blog today, uncertainly is an awful part of life!
I am looking forward to more of your takes on the book and IF in general.
I am right there with you.
I too did it the right way, the responsible way. I waited until I was married.
And now, three years later, I have no baby, nothing but a stack of medical bills, a strained marriage, and ravaged hope.
Like you, I was supposed to be working on #2 right now. Instead, I don't even know I'll ever get #1...
Life's a bitch isn't it?!
I feel very similar to you. My brother is 9 years younger than me and was a very sick baby for the first few years of his life. I remember all too well the struggle my parents went through and for a long time I thought it was too much hassle to bother with. It wasn't until I became involved with caring for my sister's that I decided it wasn't always that difficult, all the time.
Post a Comment