The pain that never totally goes away

As you may or may not know, we live in the Midwest. The Midwest is known for a few things – corn, soybeans, corn, flooding, corn and coming into trends about a year after they were trendy. One such trend is the movie Juno.

Brian and I watched Juno last weekend together FINALLY. As I suspected, I found the movie witty, surprising, intelligent, sharp and fun. One reaction that took me off guard, though, was painful. Yes, painful. The movie made me cry. For fear of harsh embarrassment, I held back what were actual sobs inside my body. My head was on Brian’s lap and I found myself crying streams of tears down the side of my face for half the movie.

Why? What about this clever flick could spark such emotion?

The pain of infertility.

I have never given birth. As far as I know, I have never even been pregnant. I have tried to trick my body into being pregnant. I have taken many prescription drugs to convince my body to become pregnant. I have been poked, prodded, tested, squeezed, punctured, scraped, enlarged, starved, etc. – all in desperation to become pregnant.

My children are mine through the womb of another. I have the UTMOST respect and admiration for all birth parents and their difficulty in the decision to choose adoption. Because of these birth parents, my children are mine as yours are yours. There is never a day that I do not feel like their mother. There is never a moment that I do not feel the deep piercing love for those two boys that only a mother can feel. Never.

And I am resolved that we are meant to only have these two boys. I am resolved to the fact that God created these two little boys through the seeds of 4 others to be ours. I REALLY AM SO OKAY WITH THAT.

Why then is it that, out of the blue, something happens to make me yearn and ache?

I have become accustomed to the fleeting moments –

Like when a close friend or relative announces she is expecting, and my internal reaction is a fleeting moment of jealousy and pain. A fleeting moment that seems to last an eternity and I pray they do not see the sting their joy just caused me, because my infertility is not their fault any more than it is my fault. A fleeting moment that gives way to delight, enthusiasm, and excitement for their own good news - for THEIR moment.

Or like when friends and colleagues share birth and pregnancy stories, not realizing, (How could they? Why SHOULD they?) I feel intimidated, embarrassed and insignificant when the topic arises. For a brief moment, I don’t feel female. The feeling soon gives way to general interest in their own personal accounts.

I have become accustomed to those moments and they seem to be fewer.

Sometimes, however, the moment haunts me and lasts for hours. Juno brought out mourning for a part of my life I never expected to forego. A part of my identity as a female. A part of my life I thought was a RIGHT. A part of my life I think I have come to terms with, only to feel a deep surging of anguish overcome my demeanor and resurface the same emotions as the years of unsuccessful conception attempts. My right to carry a child.

I cried tears of resentment when Juno was talking so callously about the pregancy at first. I have never had a positive pregnancy test. I cried tears of jealousy when Juno and her family and friend were watching the ultrasound. The only ultrasounds I have had administered showed the size and quantity of my follicles developing from the fertility drugs - follicles releasing eggs that would never develop into a child. I cried tears of empathy when Jennifer Gardner put her hands on Juno’s stomach to feel the baby move and awkwardly talked to her potential child-to-be, knowing that is the closest she or I would ever come to feeling life begin. I cried tears of understanding at Jennifer Gardner’s guard for the prospect of the adoption falling through - knowing baby showers and shopping trips are for pregnant people only. Adoptive parents have showers AFTER the baby is a sure thing. Then I cried tears of mixed emotions in the hospital - sympathy for Juno and her loss, yet respect at her decision and excitement for Jennifer Gardner and her new beginning. I cried tears of compassion at Juno’s father’s gentleness and counsel telling Juno someday she would be there on her terms. The whole movie sparked emotions in me I once felt so deeply and emotions I thought I had stifled.

I am then reminded that movies like Juno only amplifiy emotions I experience on a regular basis. A resentment I feel at stories like these teenagers and their pregnancy pact and a bitterness that so many of them were so easily successful in their pregnancy attempt. A jealousy when seeing unplanned celebrity pregnancy adorning the covers of most Gossip rags. Ugly, ugly emotions.

Pain.

Will it ever go away completely?

Maybe what I need to come to terms with instead is… no.

KEEP BELIEVING