If you're embarking on the infertility trail, (don't worry, you'll know it when you're on it: Dirt road, bumpy, rocky, big holes you can't see before you tumble head-first into them, quick sand, no street signs telling you which way to go... ) one thing you will find: It's a crowded son-of-a trail. You may not know what you're doing, where you're headed, or how long this stinking trail goes on for... but you're never alone on it. At any given moment, there are literally millions of others around your town, your state, your Country and many other places on planet Earth plodding along the same miserable miles. Or if you don't like my "dusty trail" image, think of infertility like the State Fair: Millions of people waiting willingly but anxiously, voluntarily but reluctantly, to take the same roller coaster ride. The adrenaline's pumping: Are they scared or excited? It's hard to tell. Probably a lot of both.
Although there are some big differences:
- Fertility treatment weight gain can't possibly compete with State Fair weight gain. Somehow the math never works out at the Fair where we convince ourselves that we've walked off the 12,000 calories we ate in the first half hour.
- Going through infertility with millions of others, my husband never once said: "That's why I never wanted to do this. You know I hate being around people!" or (in his best stage whisper):
- "These people in front of us are walking so slowly I've almost tripped over them five times. Go around them already!" Both of which he says at the State Fair every fifteen minutes like clockwork. Some people set their watch by the sun. If I wore one, I'd set mine by my husband's complaints.
- The other millions of people probably won't be in the same waiting room of the same fertility doctor at the same time as you... Unlike the State Fair, where everybody who lives within a 200 mile radius and their first, second and third cousins decides that Saturday afternoon would be the best time to go... especially if they all plan to saunter next to each other in one long impassable horizontal row that looks more like a protest march than a day at the fair.
The point is this: You can join online infertility support groups or not... You can join local infertility support groups or not... You can tell your family & friends your infertility business... or not. But whatever you choose...no matter what: In those dark, exhaustion & hormone-induced teary-eyed moments in the middle of the night, no matter how much you may want to be alone or think you're alone... you're not alone. Out there, at that very same moment, if you listen closely, you can hear a symphony of sniffling, mucous-filled, whining, rambling messes all playing the same tune at the same moment.