Why It Is Not Going To Define Who I Am

I knew this post was coming -- I just didn't know how or when -- so this is the how and the when:

It's not secret I am pushing fifty.

FIFTY.

The Big FIVE OH.

50.

It's also not a secret that for the better part of my life I have been dealing with, wrangling with, stuffing, side-stepping, begging, pleading, plotting, and working through my infertility.

I used to pontificate and say "Oh yes, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and I WILL WEAR MY BADGE OF INFERTILITY SO OTHER WOMEN KNOW THAT THEY TOO CAN MAKE IT THROUGH THE UNFORGIVING JUNGLES OF PREMATURE OVARIAN FAILURE, DIMINISHED OVARIAN RESERVE, AND UNEXPLAINED I.N.F.E.R.T.I.L.I.T.Y!!!!"

Well...that's a bunch of happy horse pucky.

For me - I was one of the lucky ones. Because let's face regardless of how talented your physician or your clinic is ART is still an art -- it's science all right, but there's the luck, or art part of it that mystical, magical and unexplainable.

All I wanted my entire life was a family. Four children -- two boys and two girls. That's what I envisioned, planned, and decided upon for myself. But that's not what happened. Miscarriage after miscarriage I felt that dream and reality slipping away, month by month. It took a toll on my marriage. And while it wasn't the sole reason it failed it was certainly a huge factor. So much pain that we couldn't talk about that we eventually went our separate ways, soothed our pain through the modern methods of chemistry (alcohol and prescription drugs), and had a complete disconnect of who we were and what we were.

I ended up leaving. Something I still feel horrible about and that I truly wish I had closure about, but something I probably never will have closure. I have accepted my responsibility in the breakdown of my marriage, and I own my part. But it's still tough to know that you left another person because you didn't think they were "good enough" and that you didn't hold their interests or that they possessed any sort of value.

The bottom line -- I wanted kids. He already had three. I tried to be a step-mom and failed miserably at that. I actually sucked at that. And there are a million excuses about why I sucked and failed. But the bottom line I was a rotten rotten step mother who loved her step children fiercely but still really sucked at that job.

As I skittered away to lick my wounds and get my collective shit together, and perhaps contemplate my navel or the meaning of life I met another man who has turned out to become my partner, my husband and my friend. And I naively thought that when he said "Oh boy let's have kids I have none" that for once it would be an easy road.

HA. HA. HA.

That was an understatement. For those of you didn't hear me the first time --

HA. HA. HA.

The trail of doctor appointments began again. The magazines in the waiting rooms were all the same. The faces in those waiting rooms began to look the same, even the medical personnel began to look and sound the same. And once again I began to hear the same message over and over again:

Lose weight, change your diet, exercise more, stop drinking coffee, and above all RELAX.

For all of you folks who have good intentions and are meaningful in your helpful advice to those of us who are infertile -- please take a small queue from me:

SHUT. THE. ****. UP. about relaxing. IT DOESN'T HELP, and it only makes us that more crabby.

Thank you -- moving right along.

So as I said above I was one of the lucky ones my treatment worked for my husband and myself and we are now the parents of one amazing little boy. My dreams of having a large family are not reality based. One is all I get, and need to be happy with, and most days I am. More often than not I am really glad that I only have one.

I am still infertile even after having my son, but I am not going to allow infertility to define who I am. It doesn't and will not control me, I still call the shots in my life. I am not going to allow infertility to transform me into this harden bitter shell of a woman.

So what does this have to do with pushing fifty? A lot actually. I had this conversation the other day with a woman who has four children and is beginning the path of perimenopause. As we were talking she made the remark that after a certain age the whole infertility thing shouldn't come into play because after all when we all hit 55 we are all well into menopause and none of us will be having children we will all be entering those wonderful post menopause years.

As I sat across the table from her toying with my coffee cup I couldn't help wonder if she would be saying those same things had she not been able to have children.

And as I opened my mouth to protest what she said I closed is just as quickly and thought -- "Whatever" and actually asked her about her something else totally unrelated because I know that sometimes it just doesn't pay to attempt to educate someone who is extremely ignorant about other people's feelings.