What to Expect When You Are *Not* Expecting

Expect that people will say and do insensitive things.  Expect that they won't know what to say to you. Or they will try to give you unwarranted advice.  The worst is "If you just stop trying, it will happen."  Or, "Oh, it only takes one time."  Or, "Maybe it's just not meant to be right now."

F*** that. 

The first time you hear, "Are you pregnant yet?" you will want to burn a house down.  That was the closest I've ever come to punching someone in the face.

Expect that you will invest countless months and thousands of dollars.  Expect to cry when you see the months turn to years.  Expect that you will get to personally know every single one of your doctors, nurses, receptionists, and pharmacists.  Expect that you will give the man who delivers your medications every month a Christmas card. 

That's right, because there's actually a man who comes to your house at any hour of the day or night, rings your doorbell, and delivers to you bags full of drugs.  He's sent specifically from a company who only deals with people like you.  I always felt sorry for him, the man who rings countless doorbells every day, delivering drugs to hopeful women.  It's sad when he gets to know you.  It means he's delivered to you for so many months that you stick out to him.

I refrain myself from hugging him every single time I see him.  Every time.

Expect that people will pry.  And judge.  And make jokes.  Expect to be uncomfortable.  Expect to be frustrated.  Expect anger.  Extreme anger. 

Expect that your husband will need to learn how to give you injections.  And memorize your medication schedule.  Figure out how to hide the syringes in your fridge when family or friends come over to dinner.  Otherwise you are opening yourself up to more awkward conversations.  Expect that you will cry during those first injections.  After a while, you won't cry anymore.  Business as usual.

Expect that while you are hiding all of this, everyone around you will be getting pregnant.  Easily.  Perfectly.  Without hiding anything in their fridge.  And you will be expected to be happy and excited.  Expect to cry.  A lot.

Expect to wake up and go to the doctor (literally) every other day.  Expect that the nurses will become your friends.  Sometimes you will feel like they are the only ones who understand, the only ones on your team.  Expect that the security guards on Saturdays and Sundays will learn to recognize you.  After a while, you get used to the routine.

Expect to lose hope.  Expect to feel like you failed.  Expect to feel like you somehow deserve this, that you've earned this, that you've done something bad to create this.  Or expect the opposite - the feeling that you deserve this because everything else in your life is so good - and you can't possibly expect to have everything you want, can you?

Every moment of this sucks.  Every single one.  You don't expect this to be you.  Never. 

I don't want these people to know me.  I don't want to lie to friends and family.  I don't want anyone's kindness or pity or gossip.  I don't want to wake up at 6am to go to the doctor before work.  I don't want to count my life in weeks and months, cycle by cycle.  I dont want to answer the question, "So, howare you?"  I DON'T WANT ANYTHING from anyone.  I very much want to be left alone.

Except, we do want that one thing.  The one thing that we are going through all of this for.  The one reason that (hopefully) will make it worth it. 

Every moment of this sucks.  Every single one.  Every day is painful.  But we're going to be okay.

This is my confession, my coming-out-of-the-closet moment.  I never in a million years wanted to share this with anyone, but the simple fact that I cannot bear to keep it to myself anymore is pushing me to reveal.  It was only when we starting coming out to close family and friends that we learned SO MANY PEOPLE go through this, and never talk about it.  And you know what?  Not talking about it makes you feel pretty damn isolated.  And I'm tired of feeling isolated.

To those who have known all along, thank you for bearing our burden with us, for your support and love.  To those who are just finding out, thank you for being sensitive with us.  Times are hard, but life is good.  And I'm still believing that everything is going to be all right.

(I originally posted this over at http://www.citylifecitywife.com/2012/08/what-to-expect-when-you-are-not.html, but I want to share with as many people as I can, because now I know I'm not the only one out there experiencing this.)

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