By: Erica Ferraro
Dealing with infertility is like starring in a tragic drama most of the time. There is a silver lining: sometimes you get to laugh. If you do not, you will swim in an ocean of tears forever. As someone who has had their fair share of tearful moments over something they cannot control, I have decided to find the absurdity, humor, and downright craziness in this whole ordeal.
The more I meet fellow warriors in this battle, the more I see trends in our experiences. So, here is my 30-step experience of the infertility rodeo. This was my experience, but I am betting it’ll tickle your infertility-infused funny bone, too! This insanity is a rite of passage, so buckle up, sister, and get ready to be hazed into the worst club with some of the best members.
Step 1: Your period could give Broadway a run for its money with its dramatic flair, elusiveness, and complexity.
Step 2: You have become a female period-cycle prophet, educating your friends and possibly even your mother on the intricacies of their bodies, like a menstrual maestro.
Step 3: Remember that collection of ovulation strips, basal temperature thermometers, and temperature jewelry you thought would help you conceive? Well, they have become the sacrificial offerings in your ceremonial acceptance of an alternate route to motherhood, set ablaze in a mystical fertility ritual.
Step 4: You finally make that appointment with a fertility doctor, even though you harbor doubts that they possess any realistic solutions. And IVF? NO WAY are you doing that.
Step 5: You have given the doctor more blood than Dracula ever dreamed of, and the diagnosis is always stranger than your wildest dreams. Yup, you are doing IVF, jokes on you.
Step 6: Your fertility doctor becomes a savior—with a price tag equivalent to your home’s mortgage and 401(k) combined. And do not forget, there are no guarantees; it is all about variables and odds.
Step 7: You have pondered the meaning of life and your existence more times than someone in a mid-life crisis. You tell a few close friends and family members that you need to do IVF, and someone says,“Are you sure you need to? Is this really what you want?”
Step 8: Guilt and resentment take center stage as you blame yourself or your partner (or both) for drawing the unlucky infertility card.
Step 9: In a surprising twist, you realize it is no one’s fault and feel bad for feeling bad in the first place. It is a guilt inception.
Step 10: You have a love-hate relationship with Google, Facebook Support Groups, Instagram infertility accounts, and the whole online TTC community. They have been your saviors and your spiraling partners-in-crime multiple times.
Step 11: As you quickly discover, the online TTC community is a mix of greatness, craziness, drama, cliques, and some seriously weird competition.
Step 12: You find your tribe online, carefully curating whose content you engage with and who gets a peek into your journey.
Step 13: The incredible souls you meet online become the besties you have never met.
Step 14: You start unfairly comparing your real-life friends to your online IVF girl gang, even though it is like comparing apples to oranges. But, hey, you do it anyway.
Step 15: When you thought life could not get any more ironic, everyone you know in real life suddenly gets pregnant—especially those who weren’t even trying. And they love sharing that tidbit, causing you to put on a brave face through their insensitive comments.
Step 16: Friends and family announce pregnancies for their second, third, and fourth children while you wait for your first. Their gender disappointment and disdain for not getting the exact scenario they wanted only add to the ironic shit-show of your own life.
Step 17: Anger, resentment, and bitterness start brewing, leading to a one-way ticket to IsolationVille.
Step 18: You try IUI or IVF, but it does not work, and you are left both financially broke and brokenhearted.
Step 19: Your doctor suggests a new treatment protocol, and you obsessively research, poll others online, and ask, “Did you try the Lupron flare protocol, too?”
Step 20: You find just as many success stories as failures, yet you still empty your pockets because, frankly, you have no other choice.
Step 21: The hormone medications play tricks on your body, packing on the pounds while you are told you are not allowed to exercise during treatment. The universe seems to conspire against you.
Step 22: Reality sinks in: this journey will not be easy, straightforward, or cheap. Bitterness will not change that. So, you decide to embrace the absurdity.
Step 23: Patience, grace, empathy, and gratitude become your sidekicks in a way you never imagined. You start seeing everyone else’s first-world problems, feeling disconnected from “regular people,” but still trying to relate.
Step 24: You keep pushing forward, but now you are a seasoned IVF veteran, shedding timelines and expectations like old skin.
Step 25: People ask if you want a boy or a girl, and you laugh. “I just want a baby!” you exclaim.
Step 26: At a baby shower, an older woman tells you to “take a vacation and relax.” Oh, the wisdom!
Step 27: Everything said to you becomes comical. What once triggered you now presents an opportunity for education. And the sheer ignorance of some people? Well, that is downright entertaining.
Step 28: You are no quitter. This has become more than just having a baby; it is about conquering adversity, and you refuse to give in.
Step 29: You accept that to increase your chances, you might need to explore new routes to parenthood—options you were initially wary of but no longer are because you are now more educated and battle-hardened.
Step 30: Eventually, you succeed, somehow, in some way. But you are not the same. You’ve sacrificed beyond measure. You’ve reached the finish line, but it came at a cost. Having a baby does not erase infertility; it is a lifelong companion. You are anxious during pregnancy, knowing you have fought harder than most to get here. But you are also ten times as grateful. You savor the little things and view your journey with newfound wisdom. You are entering motherhood in a unique, magical way that only comes from overcoming life’s setbacks. You would not wish this on anyone, but you cannot imagine your life without it because it has made you the resilient, extraordinary person you are today.
And you now have designated progesterone insert underwear (IYKYK!)
Cheers to surviving and trying to thrive through the most chaotic experience of your life.
Cannot wait to do it again for future children when we decide it is time for a sibling *cue the tears and the psychotic laughter.*
Moving Mountains For Motherhood 