I’ve sat down and tried to written an entry several times, none of them coming to fruition. Since coming out with our infertility in May, not much has changed. We are still childless, and feeling emptier and more hopeless each passing day. Childlessness is something I never thought I would experience. It’s something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
We are in month 27. For over 800 days we have tried to have a baby. Do you know how many things can happen in 800 days? This disease is nasty. It’s heartbreaking, emotionally filled, painful physically and emotionally, and a losing battle
I began teaching in the fall and have had to deal with many pregnant moms, and listen as the kids tell me the exciting things their new bundles of joy are doing at home. One day recently was hard to handle.
"I have a secret, Mrs. W" a kindergarten student said to me. He had a huge grin on his face. He's 6. His secret is probably that his birthday is coming up or that he made his Christmas list. "Would you like to share this with me?" I asked. He nodded, put his mouth right up to my ear, tightly cupped by his hands and said, "I'm going to be a big brother soon!" My heart hurt. But yet, my heart was happy. He was so excited, so proud. One of his best moments, was one of my worst. I told him I was very excited for him, gave him a squeeze, and had to walk away. I felt ill. It had been a while since I felt this bad.
Sometimes these words hurt more than others. Today it hurt terribly. As of lately I hadn't been asked when we were having kids, or why we didn't have kids. Since coming out with our infertility there has been a weight lifted from my shoulders. I was able to live life normally. In fact, on occasion I even deliberately walked past the baby section in Target and didn't even feel that pain in my throat. I am accepting this life. I am accepting infertility.
Two days after this kiddo shared his news his mom came to volunteer for the class. As soon as she walked in my eyes went towards her stomach. Nothing. Either it was early, or it wasn't true. I tried not to think of it the rest of the day. Then, at the end of the day I found myself alone in the classroom with my little friend and his mom. As I was putting on my jacket and scarf I saw him pull his mom close, cup her ear, and whisper something. She immediately let out a laugh, and turned to me. "He just whispered, 'I only told Mrs. W the secret'". I laughed, expecting to feel immediate pain, but I didn't. I told his mom the story about how he told me, congratulated her, and left the building feeling...empty but happy.
A few days later I was at my second job, nannying. I was alone with the boys in the kitchen. The boys are old enough to understand the beginning process of reproduction, at least enough to carry on a conversation regarding children. "Are you having kids?" the youngest asked. "That's impolite, B" the oldest said. Then turned to me and said, "wait, can you have kids?" I was unsure how I wanted to handle this. The parents I nanny for are very open and honest with their kids. They tend to answer honestly and fully when asked questions. However, I hadn't told their family about this secret part of my life so I held back a little. "I'm not sure" I started. D and I just don't have kids right now. Maybe one day, maybe not". I then changed the direction of the conversation towards the different lifestyles people have. Some choose to have children, some don't, and some can't. They seemed satisfied with my answers when we were finished.
After these two conversations I decided I was going to not hide this part of my life anymore - from anyone that asked. Little did I know that the moment I would tell this secret would soon come.
Less than a week later I was driving with the two girls I nanny. After driving silently for a few minutes the youngest (7) asked how babies come out. Oh boy. Once again, they practice honest parenting so I stayed silent for a few moments thinking. "Well, P, there are two ways babies come out. I'll explain one and I think you should discuss the second way with mom." I started with "well, your mom had what is called a C-section." I went into little detail about this then proceeded to tell her "this is definitely a mom in conversation. These are great questions that you're asking, but this is something that your mom needs to answer. Every parent is different and some moms and dads explain things differently to their children." She said OK and became silent again. I knew that this was not the last question that I would get during this car ride about reproduction from her. At this time the oldest (8) said "I know the other way the baby comes out". Oh man. Here we go again. "I am glad that you know, but once again this is a conversation that needs to be had with mom, so we are done discussing this part. I am more than happy to answer other questions that you may have about this but we are done with that question.” I thought, oh great, did I just open this conversation up to her asking about where the babies actually come from? However, the conversation took a different turn.
"Can you have babies?" she asked. Well, this was not the next question I thought I would hear. I battled with myself for a moment. I said I would be honest, but was now the right time? I still hadn't told their parents. Soon the words came out. "No, I can't have babies"..
We are in month 27. For over 800 days we have tried to have a baby. Do you know how many things can happen in 800 days? This disease is nasty. It’s heartbreaking, emotionally filled, painful physically and emotionally, and a losing battle
I began teaching in the fall and have had to deal with many pregnant moms, and listen as the kids tell me the exciting things their new bundles of joy are doing at home. One day recently was hard to handle.
"I have a secret, Mrs. W" a kindergarten student said to me. He had a huge grin on his face. He's 6. His secret is probably that his birthday is coming up or that he made his Christmas list. "Would you like to share this with me?" I asked. He nodded, put his mouth right up to my ear, tightly cupped by his hands and said, "I'm going to be a big brother soon!" My heart hurt. But yet, my heart was happy. He was so excited, so proud. One of his best moments, was one of my worst. I told him I was very excited for him, gave him a squeeze, and had to walk away. I felt ill. It had been a while since I felt this bad.
Sometimes these words hurt more than others. Today it hurt terribly. As of lately I hadn't been asked when we were having kids, or why we didn't have kids. Since coming out with our infertility there has been a weight lifted from my shoulders. I was able to live life normally. In fact, on occasion I even deliberately walked past the baby section in Target and didn't even feel that pain in my throat. I am accepting this life. I am accepting infertility.
Two days after this kiddo shared his news his mom came to volunteer for the class. As soon as she walked in my eyes went towards her stomach. Nothing. Either it was early, or it wasn't true. I tried not to think of it the rest of the day. Then, at the end of the day I found myself alone in the classroom with my little friend and his mom. As I was putting on my jacket and scarf I saw him pull his mom close, cup her ear, and whisper something. She immediately let out a laugh, and turned to me. "He just whispered, 'I only told Mrs. W the secret'". I laughed, expecting to feel immediate pain, but I didn't. I told his mom the story about how he told me, congratulated her, and left the building feeling...empty but happy.
A few days later I was at my second job, nannying. I was alone with the boys in the kitchen. The boys are old enough to understand the beginning process of reproduction, at least enough to carry on a conversation regarding children. "Are you having kids?" the youngest asked. "That's impolite, B" the oldest said. Then turned to me and said, "wait, can you have kids?" I was unsure how I wanted to handle this. The parents I nanny for are very open and honest with their kids. They tend to answer honestly and fully when asked questions. However, I hadn't told their family about this secret part of my life so I held back a little. "I'm not sure" I started. D and I just don't have kids right now. Maybe one day, maybe not". I then changed the direction of the conversation towards the different lifestyles people have. Some choose to have children, some don't, and some can't. They seemed satisfied with my answers when we were finished.
After these two conversations I decided I was going to not hide this part of my life anymore - from anyone that asked. Little did I know that the moment I would tell this secret would soon come.
Less than a week later I was driving with the two girls I nanny. After driving silently for a few minutes the youngest (7) asked how babies come out. Oh boy. Once again, they practice honest parenting so I stayed silent for a few moments thinking. "Well, P, there are two ways babies come out. I'll explain one and I think you should discuss the second way with mom." I started with "well, your mom had what is called a C-section." I went into little detail about this then proceeded to tell her "this is definitely a mom in conversation. These are great questions that you're asking, but this is something that your mom needs to answer. Every parent is different and some moms and dads explain things differently to their children." She said OK and became silent again. I knew that this was not the last question that I would get during this car ride about reproduction from her. At this time the oldest (8) said "I know the other way the baby comes out". Oh man. Here we go again. "I am glad that you know, but once again this is a conversation that needs to be had with mom, so we are done discussing this part. I am more than happy to answer other questions that you may have about this but we are done with that question.” I thought, oh great, did I just open this conversation up to her asking about where the babies actually come from? However, the conversation took a different turn.
"Can you have babies?" she asked. Well, this was not the next question I thought I would hear. I battled with myself for a moment. I said I would be honest, but was now the right time? I still hadn't told their parents. Soon the words came out. "No, I can't have babies"..