It all started out so innocently, I Googled the words, “tooth+pain+Wellbutrin.” What I expected to find is evidence that my jaw ache and tooth pain (which has since subsided) was just another evil side effect of Vitamin W. I clicked on the top ten returns and found diddly-squat. I read through posts and links that did nothing to explain away the pain in my mouth. I then clicked on So Close: Because my life is so boring anyway, a fun new side effect! Yes, this sounded like a person who knew my pain. As soon as I arrived at the beautiful blog “So Close: After Being so Close After So Long, I Have Finally Arrived. Life After Infertility” I felt like had arrived at my blog. No, it was not black and red and forever talking about weasels, red hair, and J Crew. Rather it was the first blog I found that spoke of failing at infertility in the same humorous and irreverent manner I try to bring to the sad and sorry subject.
I felt that I had finally found a blog that was representational of my experience of infertility and having gone through the whole hellish and barbaric process of infertility treatment only to be childless. “So Close” is written by Tertia who lives in South Africa. What I could tell about her from just 15 minutes on her blog is that she is beautiful, blond, sassy, funny and unafraid to drop the F-bomb when necessary (it is my belief that if you have been through IVF you should forever more be able to say the “F” word without apology). I read about Tertia’s tooth pain and discovered that we were on different drugs and had different jaw/tooth issues. But what we lacked in a bicuspid bond we surely made up with in our lack of children and our attempting to write away our pain of childlessness.
Yes, Tertia did a staggering nine rounds of IVF which is five more than I did. But, I also did over 12 IUI’s. And, five of the IUI”s were with injectable drugs—and then there was my failed adoption. We had both really tried and tried and tried and we both came so close—only there would be no pregnancies, labors, deliveries, or birthdays when our husbands would pass out pink and blue bubble gum cigars for either of us.
We had other things in common. I saw that Tertia had written a book about her experience with infertility. And, I want to write a hilarious and heartwarming tale of surviving infertility that critics will rave is like David Sedaris on hormone shots or Dorothy Parker on progesterone. Well, yes, Tertia’s book is written, published and there on Amazon.uk and mine is just in the writing , pre-agent and pre-publisher phase of development( I was too excited to get hung up on technicalities).
I followed the link on her blog that took me to her book on Amazon.uk and I found the following synopsis of her book:
“This title presents a devastating and devastatingly funny account of one woman’s bare-knuckle fight with infertility.”I am so close, so close I can almost taste it. Surely I will get there this time. Surely, please God, let it happen this time.” “So Close” is the story of Tertia Albertyn’s struggle to become a mother. Determined and desperate she underwent nine IVF treatments when three is usually as much as many people can take. During Tertia’s journey everything that can go wrong does go wrong and she rails against it in her inimitable style, turning the air blue along the way. She is as hilarious as she is irrepressible and as approachable as she is knowledgeable. Anyone reading this book with experience of infertility will find a friend in Tertia.”
I decided to read her “About Me” on her blog and that is where I read it: “This blog started off as a chronicle of my journey through infertility. Amazingly, nine IVF’s and a few losses later I managed to get knocked up and keep the babies this time. My twins, Adam and Kate, were born January 2005. So that part of my life (the horrible, soul destroying infertility part) is over. The next chapter talks about finding the balance between mothering, working, wife’ing, all while drinking copious amounts of lovely chilled white wine.”
This, my dear bloggy friends, is when I started to lose it. I must do my disclaimer. I am happy Tertia had twins. I really am. But, what I am deeply and soul crushingly unhappy about is that I did not and that I will not. I will never have children. As I must have been in a masochistic mood I then clicked on “My Photo Album” and I cannot tell you what I saw there. I am pretty sure that there were pictures of Tertia’s beautiful children looking, well, beautiful. What I saw was a page filled with God, the universe, Dr. Mumbles, and the 16 other doctors I saw all saying: “YOU WILL NEVER BE PREGNANT. YOU WILL NEVER HAVE WHAT YOU WANTED MOST. YOU WILL ALWAYS BE CHILDLESS. NOTHING WILL EVER CHANGE THAT.”
I began to cry a cry that I have never cried before. It was a cry that sounded like a song. It had verses of huffing like sobs and each chorus ended with a howling like moan. I cried this cry for what felt like hours. I stopped not because I was done crying but because I was exhausted and I did not have the endurance to cry anymore. There was a part of me that wanted to cry some more but no tears could come. I turned again to the photos of the beautiful babies and my body found that there was a deeper reservoir on reserve. My song of sadness resumed and I cried some more. I cried loud and whaling, like women at a Greek funeral do. I wanted someone to hear me. I was hoping maybe it would be God and hopefully not a well meaning neighbor who heard me crying and wanted to see if I was okay. I continued to cry at full voice hoping the God who had been absent during the IVF’s, the IUI’s and the failed adoption might hear me this time. I heard a voice inside my head say to me, maybe, just maybe if you keep crying someone will fix this. As I type those words the tears return and so does the desire to cry until this is fixed.
Dear Tertia: I love your writing, you are funny and smart and beautiful and I am sad that I will not be able to follow your beautiful blog. But, for now, I cannot hear your stories about motherhood. I feel sure you will understand, having been where I am, and yet I want to apologize anyways. I am sorry. I just do not have the balls, the estrogen, or the eggs to endure hearing your story of motherhood. I may never be able to. I feel sure we could have been great blogging friends. I hope that my readers who have not suffered infertility are able to enjoy your blog as much as I would have should things have worked out differently for me.
