Ava rolled over in bed as she heard the familiar “ping, ping, ping.”
It’s 1:00 am? Who’s texting me?
She grabbed her phone off the nightstand to see her group chat light up.
Emma B: Oh my gosh, so sorry for the late/early text but my brain’s going 100 miles an hour after my appointment today, and I know I’m not the only one here with insomnia. Anyway, has anyone heard of/tried acupuncture…
Ava clicks the silence notifications button, darkens the screen, and sets the phone back down.
Been there. Done that.
After tossing and turning she gives up and looks at her phone again, the group chat is still going, but at least her phone isn’t buzzing anymore. She doesn’t have the energy for the group tonight. Sometimes yes, sometimes she could be the most supportive, wonderful and understanding friend in the world. But other times she needed to protect herself from everyone else’s woes.
“You can’t pour from an empty glass.”
Her therapist’s words echo through her mind.
“Take care of yourself first.”
Instead, Ava pulls up the latest trendy app with constant videos scrolling through. Yes, these have been proven to be bad for your mental health too, but for a person who needs a distraction from life, it’s perfect for now.
Recipes, catchy songs, trends of people trying on different outfits, ooh! Cute crochet blanket pattern! She pushes the bookmark icon and the video gets saved next to 238 other patterns she will never remember to try out.
Then the next video starts: “There’s an old wives’ tale…”
Old wives’ tale. Where did those come from? She mused.
Like wives didn’t have enough to do besides raising the children, taking care of the house, cooking all the meals and in my farm-wife grandmother’s case feeding the chickens, collecting eggs, bottle-feeding the occasional orphaned calf, shooting the skunk in the pig-lot with sharpshooter like precision, mowing the lawn, and getting everybody dressed and ready for church on Sunday morning. Like they didn’t have enough to fill their day AND then they came up with more things for everyone to do with their superstitions. I guess women have always been multitaskers.
The video continues: “if you put a wrapped blanket under your Christmas tree you will have a baby by the next Christmas.” Of course this is said over a catchy Christmas tune. And of course the trick worked for the influencer as the video continues to show a newborn wrapped in the blanket that, just last Christmas, had been wrapped beneath the tree.
I’ll try it. Ava says to herself as she looks at the newly crocheted rainbow blanket that she finished just before bed on the nightstand. Just have to weave in the loose yarn ends and then I’ll wrap it in Christmas paper. That’s what this wife does to fill her day: Crochet and hope.
There have been a thousand suggestions, all coming from good places, but all just as frustrating and stress inducing as the last.
Just relax.
Have you guys tried taking a vacation?
Track your temperature.
I have a wonderful OB, you should get an appointment with him!
Oh my colleague gave up and adopted, then surprise! Just 11 months after they welcomed that new family member they discovered they were pregnant!
As if adoption is the sole responsibility of the infertile community.
All suggestions coming from different people and the best places in their heart to make them feel better. They never make Ava feel better – Just like more of a failure. Somehow there are endless friends on social media posting announcements throughout the year and yet, all Ava can post are pictures of her dog. All of those posts of her very cute beagle, Lucy, in various bandanas throughout the year, covering up the pain she feels that it’s not a baby in a cute outfit. Ava pats Lucy who is snuggled against her hip in bed under the covers. She likes to burrow in blankets at night, hiding away from the world.
Ava understands that feeling well.
Lucy was never supposed to sleep in the bed. She’s crate trained. A couple hundred dollars at the local pet store working with an obedience trainer now felt like a waste. But on one of the bad days after going to yet another friend’s baby shower, Ava told her husband she needed the dog snuggled up against her while she cried. Lucy has shared the bed with them ever since. Maybe because she’s one of few creatures Ava feels that actually understands her emotions. Dogs sense how we feel, and Lucy just got it. Her owner couldn’t explain it better than that but she just made Ava feel better.
Scrolling through more and more posts, Ava started to think about the day she’ll maybe, just maybe, get to make that happy post. As anyone else who has struggled with infertility, she gets hung up on those things and plans them start to finish. How will I announce? It will be beautiful, but carefully worded. It will include me saying I apologize if my post hurts because infertility sucks. Infertility has led me to see others post and chuck my phone so hard that I almost knocked over my Christmas tree. The same tree that this year I will wrap up a blanket to put under.
Because as long as she can hope and dream of those days, maybe she can stop the anger of these days.
The anger that bubbles up when she’s in a conversation with someone who has five kids saying how many of them were “oopsies.”
The anger she feels when she looks at her bank statements and remembers the fact that something that is a basic function of a body for some will cost her and her husband tens of thousands of dollars.
The anger that leads blood to rush to her cheeks when she overhears those annoying coworkers talk about how ridiculous it is that people are starting to request that fertility treatments be covered by insurance and how that’s not fair and comparing it to insurance covering things like breast implants or butt lifts. I’m sorry, one of you is a grandma and the other tells me daily how she never wants children. I really don’t think you two should get an opinion on this topic unless you’ve lived it! She snaps at them in her brain, but not out loud because her rant WOULD get her reported to HR, so she walks away and makes another cup of coffee. Coffee will fix it.
The only people who get it are people who have been through it, and you learn to find your tribe. The people in her group chat are her tribe. Fellow “Infertility Warriors.” Ugh, why do we have to call ourselves that? I hate it. It’s one of those terms that means well. It’s supposed to remind Ava and the group that they’re tough, they’re strong, they’ll get through this and come out better people on the other side. But after a while it just sounds patronizing – like people are trying to make them feel better by calling them “warriors.”
In reality, they’re just a group of people experiencing the same thing in so many different ways – because there are A LOT of things that can cause this.
The group has been her salvation on some days being there when a doctor says something infuriating and out of touch. Or when her sister with two healthy kids and no issues just simply cannot get it and says all the wrong things in a conversation when Ava needs to vent. But, on other days the group text is a source of new terror learning about everything that so many have gone through. Oh the terms and phrases Ava’s learned by advocating for herself and telling others to do the same. She feels like she’s halfway to a degree in medicine with the research hours done on her phone reading article after article. All of the group member’s experiences roll through her head, all tumultuous and disheartening in their own right:
Premature ovarian failure, like Kenzie and Sasha. Amy, Emma, and Beth are all dealing with Endometriosis. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, the bear I’m wrestling with and Mom had before me. And on top of all of that some of our partners are experiencing male factor infertility.
These are the explainable ones. Some people get all the tests, try all the things, and get the MOST disappointing diagnosis. Unexplained infertility. EVERYTHING comes back normal and still somehow NOTHING works for them. Can you imagine having water flood your basement and a plumber tell you there is no leak, no pipe that needs fixed? How is that even possible? How immensely frustrating for Jen, Ashley, Barbara, and Emilie.
So all of us warriors will continue. Ava thinks to herself. She finally clicks the button on her phone and sets it down. She stares at the ceiling fan going round and round as sleep still evades her.
Ava’s mind continues to spin, thinking of all of those wonderful people in her group. They all hope because it’s something they can control in a world where nothing else is in their grasp. She’ll share that video about the blanket with them and most will probably wrap up blankets to put under their own Christmas trees which feels akin to still believing in Santa Claus. It’s an easier thought than facing the possibility that all of this time and all of this effort and all of this money might not get any of them any closer to their shared dream. The dream that is realized by so many around the world all too easily. By so many who don’t even want it.
These warriors will forge ahead, even though every day, the feelings crush each and every one of them with the weight of it all: with the pain of the progesterone shots, the sting of an empty savings account, and the heartbreak that comes with no heartbeat.
Written by Hannah Tesar for the Hopeful Mama Foundation. We are incredibly grateful to all of our writers, who open up their heart and share their journey with this community. If you would like to connect with one of our writers, please let us know by submitting an email on our website’s contact page.
Hannah Tesar is a teacher, writer, mom of an awesome toddler, and wife to a wonderful husband. She is passionate about establishing a welcoming classroom where all voices are heard and encouraging her students and as well as others facing medical challenges to advocate for themselves. Hannah lives with PCOS and is struggling with secondary infertility.
The views and opinions expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the Hopeful Mama Foundation. Our authors provide content that reflects their opinions and does not intend to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual.