Fuck you! I’m an Anteater.

Fuck You! I'm an Anteater!

Fuck You! I'm an Anteater!

I hope everyone is having a fabulous National Infertility Awareness Week and that the infertility fairy has been good to you. Or at least decent. Or at least bought you a drink before spitting in your dreams.

I figured that since I have, as of last February graduated infertility to join the ranks of doting grandmother (if you are a new reader to this blog, well, I’m sorry. It’s sorta like join into Soap mid-seasson. You have a lot of catching up to do, but in the end, it will be totally worth it. In the mean time, use these cliff notes to catch up.)

But now that I’m a bitter old lady doting grandmother, with an active little Monkey lovingly waking me each morning with a karate chop to the neck (seriously. WTF kid?) I have no need for the Infertility Community. Right? I’m not cycling. I’m not hoping. I’m not involved.

In fact, just watching the other woman move on without me, start new cycles, discuss fun side effects, #hope, #hope and #hoping, hurts me in my sensitive spots.

I should totally leave. Move on. Turn my back on the community. Nothing here but pain and reminders and remnants of heartbreak to trip over in the dark. After all… since I’m no longer one, not that I ever really fit in…

So I go to a party and drink some wine. OK. A lot of wine. Its a bunch of my husbands friends and they all have their reasons for cornering me to chat. Generally about their sex lives. Then one corners me, “So, we are starting IVF #2 tomorrow.”

Queue tears in public.

We had a long talk about her miscarriage and failed cycles and drugs and side effects and weight gain and….  and how nobody understands. Especially “the fertiles.” I know I certainly didn’t when I was one.

How one of her good friends asked her if she was praying for her baby.

You know. Because perhaps if she’s not praying hard enough or correctly, perhaps that’s the problem. Maybe she’s praying to the wrong god.

Which makes me go on a side rant about the “you need to pray for it” line of BS. Where does that end? Did she not pray hard enough when she was pregnant and that’s what caused the miscarriage?

Even as I sat there, tears in my eyes, listening to a woman pour her heart out to me when really, truthfully, had I left the community, I should have been listening to someone tell me how they like it when their husband pretends to rape them and is that weird? I realized, I had not left the community. I had been promoted.

I am no longer a fighter. I no longer have hope for me. I am a Matriarch Camp Counselor* of Infertility. I am here to listen. To offer support. To offer advice. And to carry you when you feel you can’t go on.

I will never leave.

* Edited. After I thought about it, Matriarch is WAY too stuffy a title for me. I’ve decided to go with Camp Counselor. Makes infertility sound like a fun away game instead of a soul crush. I’m a social director who is here to entertain, listen and tell you about those crazy things that are happening to your body. MUCH more my speed.

Author: Mona Darling
Mona Darling spent close to twenty years as an A-list professional dominatrix before becoming a D-list mommy blogger. After spending many years traveling the world being told that she is fabulous, she now spends her days being told she doesn’t drive fast enough by her five-year-old son. She is also a sex positive life coach and enjoys helping people live a full and happy life embracing all their quirks and fetishes. She also helps couples strengthen their relationships by learning about and understand each others quirks and fetishes.

10 Comments

  1. JustHeather
    April 27, 2012 at 10:33 am

    *big hugs DCG* I’m sorry it had to be something like that and in public to get you to realize that you’ll never leave infertility. I think the pain of it and the different emotions that go along with infertility can and do/will change over the years, but I don’t think it will ever leave. We can never un-forget how hard of a struggle it is and what it is like to be in the shoes of others who are trying when we aren’t. Infertility is one of those things that once you’ve had it, it never goes away, sort of like, er, well the HPV virus (for lack of something cuter to come up with).

  2. k
    April 27, 2012 at 11:44 am

    You’re a little further down the “done” path then I am. Mine is too fresh to say I’ll never leave. Right now I’d like nothing more than to ditch every infertility blog in my reader and only read stirrup queens main page and never ever go back to LFCA. I know that’s the reactive part of me. And I don’t want to abandon people who’ve been there for me through my journey. I just don’t know how to balance it yet. I don’t know how to have hope for others when I’ve lost it for myself.

    I admire you feeling promoted. I hope someday I feel the same way.

  3. Jenn [ Crippled Girl ]
    April 27, 2012 at 11:45 am

    I may have just bawled like a big baby reading this.

    *wipes tears on the members-only jacket*

  4. HGavin
    April 27, 2012 at 2:48 pm

    OMG, do I love this post. As I move on to childfree, not my choice thank you very much, I feel that I need to also move on from all this, but I just can’t. There is always someone out there that reaches out to me and makes me feel like my voice needs to be heard. That I have something to give back.
    I like this Camp Counselor title, it suits you very well.

  5. Cristy
    April 27, 2012 at 3:03 pm

    As someone who is still firmly in the trenches (two miscarriages following IVF and FET; preparing for one final FET before throwing in the towel on conceiving biologically), I need to say that it’s talking with those who have resolved in some way (bringing home baby, stopping, adopting or choosing to live child-free) that has given me the courage to continue. You husband’s friend is dead on, those who have never been touched by infertility DON’T get it. They can’t possibly. To turning to them for support and hope is very difficult and their stories are not ones that give me hope.

    I completely understand wanting to shut the door on that part of your life. Who wouldn’t. But (and I’m being selfish here) I’m glad that for now you are feeling promoted. Because I’ve benefitted greatly from reading this blog. And I’m sure others have too.

  6. Chickenpig
    April 27, 2012 at 3:21 pm

    You can leave the infertile world, but we won’t leave you BWA A HA HA HA.

    Sorry, I’ve been feeling really wacky as of late. Since I’m now perpetually frozen in amber at the just about to finish- this- last- fucking -cycle stage for all eternity. I would give my right boob for a little hope.

    Does Jason live at this camp you counsel at? Does he roam the grounds wearing a mask with a dildocam in his hand?

  7. Louisa
    LouisaReply
    April 29, 2012 at 12:24 pm

    Just call you Julie McCoy from the Love Boat! Only hopefully without the yippy problem! Seriously, that was good support you offered that woman who was proably feeling so alone.

  8. delinquenteggs
    delinquenteggsReply
    May 3, 2012 at 6:35 am

    I like this. I also happen to like Matriarch (but I like Camp Counselor, too). How about Wise Woman of the Community. Shaman? 
     
    You’re right, if you’d graduated/moved on/removed yourself, you wouldn’t have reacted as you did. It’s amazing how raw it stays. Forever, maybe?
     
    (Sorry for not commenting much lately. I am here but inundated. But very glad you ARE here). 
     

  9. jjccseattle
    jjccseattleReply
    May 5, 2012 at 10:26 am

    I know after all this I can never turn my back on the infertility/miscarriage/loss community. It’s a life pain that scars my soul. The father of a friend asked her: “So, you over that being barren thing yet?” Fertiles cannot ever truly understand this. Some try and get pretty far because of a deeply developed human sympathy, an understanding of life-pain in general (they’ve had something else happen to them and have something in common) but many do not. I think you have rare insight here, based on the past.
     
    I understand completely how you need to stop fighting sometime. Transitioning to another role and helping others is a way to put some color back into a world that turned grey on you.  But I don’t see you as a camp counselor. That’s too naive, you’ve seen more than that. Unless you mean a counselor at a camp for teens trying to recover from abuse, trying to learn to live even though they haven’t seen much good in the world yet.

    • dcg
      May 7, 2012 at 8:51 am

      Thank you for your sweet comments. I can tell that you, unfortunately, understand. It’s a sucky place to be. I wish I could turn my back and forget. I think we all do, but no matter how you leave the struggle, you can’t turn your back.

      And yes, I think that is the kind of camp I’m talking about. I just don’t see myself as a matriarch. I’m too dorky.

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