Monday, April 25, 2011

An infertile's mine field.

"You have to just look at it like it's a sick joke at this point," Buster said, trying to keep me calm, sane, rational. It didn't really do the trick.

Big news flash here, but yesterday was Easter! And I'm going to be honest here, I'm not a fan of church. I am scarred from experiences when I was younger when we were "forced" to go with my crazy grandparents (who told my sister she would be going to hell because she's a lesbian, and that they don't "run with queers"... who says that???? And it's not like my sister was asking them to do a fucking 5k with her or something!). My grandparents are the type of people who donate TONS of money to their church, and will also be the first to tell you how much they have donated. It's unsettling, to be honest. I could write a book about the effed up relationships in my family, but I am meandering far from my point here, so moving along...

Buster and I went to church with the in-laws for Easter. Not because we wanted to, but because we know how happy it makes MIL. Buster's brother and his wife do not go. They don't often feel the need to make sacrifices for others happiness, especially when it comes to my in-laws. So, Buster plays good son and we go to church.

As many of you probably know, church on Easter Sunday is filled with babies and children in cute clothes. For an infertile, it's a mine field. No matter which direction you turn, no matter where you walk, you are face to face with some reminder of what you don't have. What you are unable to do.

MIL not only invited us to church, but two of her nephews, their significant others, and a whole mess of their kids. Six kids under six, to be more specific. All beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed children. They are sweet kids, and I do not begrudge their existence in the least.

However, watching MIL laugh with them and coo over them was difficult. I cannot even express in words how I want so badly for her to be oogling over her own grandbaby, not these substitute grandchildren.

So the combination of me not wanting to be there and the gobs of adorable children around really affected my mood. Then the sermon starts. Sing songs, say hi to your neighbor, blah blah. The preacher gets up and asks if anyone has good news they'd like to share. It's quiet for a few minutes, and then a lady raises her hand.

"We are expecting our third child! Due in November," says the random fertile. She is all smiles. Everyone ooohs and ahhhhs and applauds. Oh how lovely. I wanted to raise my hand and tell them how it's National Infertility Awareness Week. I don't have the balls, however.

So we continue on with the service. The preacher gets in to his main act which is basically telling the congregation to look for Jesus in every day life and in people. Then he really goes for the gold. He walks down off the stage/pulpit/whatever and walks up to the first row. He grabs up a little tiny baby, dressed in frilly pink with a giant flower on a white headband attached to her head.

"Do you see Jesus in this little precious baby? Oh I love the fuzziness of baby hair. How precious is this little gift? Do you see Jesus here?"

Did I see Jesus there? Nope. I saw failures and questions and no answers and the loss of hope.

He walks around and makes a random guy stand up, and talks about how Random Guy always smiles and is friendly to everyone. He does the whole "Do you see Jesus in Random Guy?" thing. Then he walks back another row.

This time, he finds a young woman and asks her to stand up. She is amazingly pregnant. Beautiful pregnant belly. She is glowing. He pats her belly, and talks about the precious gift, etc. I actually started tuning out his words, as my eyes were stinging from fresh hot tears.

This is when Buster tells me that it's ok, and that it's just a sick joke. You know what? It was a sick joke. It's both sick AND a joke that this is what I've become. So easily bristled by anything having to do with babies and pregnancy.

We left church in silence. I had nothing to say after that debacle.

After church I stopped home to change and headed over to the in-laws to help get brunch out. The 6 under 6 were there, and MIL was running around trying to keep them occupied and happy. She looked at me and said while laughing, "Are ya sure you want kids?"


"Yep. Not sure if we will be so lucky, though."

Then I walked inside. I know she was probably just trying to lighten it up for me and make me feel better. But all it did was make me feel worse.


  1. **HUGS** I'm so sorry you're feeling so down. Oh the "joys" of being infertile and having to go throgh all of this crap. All the while, happy little fertiles go about their merry ways with not a care in the world. Sigh.. to be like them.....

  2. Oh I hate those kinds of comments. I still don't understand how people think they are helpful or make you feel better. I just don't.... Maybe in another life I will. But, for now...I'm sorry you had a tough Easter. Sending hugs!

  3. Oh man - that IS an infertile's mine field! I admire you for getting through it! I'm sure that was truly awful... Hugs!

  4. Yeah, it was a mine field for me yesterday, too. I love my church, and I'm thrilled that we're getting more young families because it's good for the development fo the church. But at the same time, I left church in tears yesterday because it hurt so much to see how perfect my friend's 2-year-old looked while she's 8 months along with number 2 and while I know that may never be me.

  5. hmmm i feel as though i had a similar wknd, however mine was dinners filled with ppl announcing pg;s and etc, it is a sick joke, it all seems like that some days and i am so sorry you too are in this CRAP of an experience, it has to do some good dosent it?


  6. Dude..well said. I feel for you..I've got a new niece who is the cutest thing ever and boy does it stir up all kinds of emotions when I see pics of the in laws with her. It hurts..lots of tears. My cousin is also pregnant with her's just hard being the "infertile" one in the family. Lots of empty..

  7. Pretty much my Church experience yesterday as well. Had tears welling up in my eyes for the entire service. Sorry you're going through this and reminders are everywhere!!!!

  8. I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that-and then to have the comment from your MIL at the end....I just want to give you a big cyber-hug!xo

  9. Ugh, that sounds like hell to me. And that comment from your MIL at the end? Just UGH! (*hugs*) Sorry it was so awful this year :(

  10. That just plain sucks. 'Nuf said. (hugs)

  11. So sorry, Kara. I truly do admire your willingness to be there with Buster's family, and the fact that you do not begrudge others their pregnancies and babies. I know how it feels to look at a baby and feel that pain and longing. I hope that in spite of the crap, maybe you felt a moment of love and peace in church, maybe a moment where God came near to you and comforted you. big hugs to you.

  12. Tears are in my eyes after reading this post! Those comments can hurt so badly. I remember watching my parents with other people's kids for the 8 years we were trying for our DD, I think that is one of the worst feelings ever. Now that we can't seem to make another healthy baby I am back at that place where I don't want to see other pregnant people or little babies. I admire your ability to even go! Many hugs coming your way!

  13. Oh my goodness...the trifecta of infertile injustices: cooing MIL, fertile strangers, and the "you sure you want them" joke. Sigh. Some days you just get the grand tour of it all. I'm so sorry. I managed to stay away from all that because we live so far from my family...but I know they're all wishing there was an Easter Egg hunt in their future as grandparents. Sigh. I'm with ya.

  14. Oh Kara, that was an amazing post. That made me cry! I'm so sorry you had to experience that. I often feel the same things when I am bombarded like that. And that was a really overwhelming situation to be in! And I hate what MIL said :-( Big hugs <3 Love ya.

  15. Oh my gosh, this just makes my heart hurt for you. I'm so sorry you had to go through that.

  16. fucking hell.
    Its a good thing I wasn't there, with my PMT, as I don't think they would want to consider whether Jesus was in the toilet after a dose of Misoprostol, or whether Jesus was in the 100 or so sanitary pads during months of retained products, or whether Jesus was in the Petri dish deciding whether the embies grow or not (not my experience this last one).

    Big loves, hon


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