My inferti-dar is (as far as I know) unchallenged in it's accuracy. And, interestingly enough, I have fallen into a number of social situations during which I've found my red-threaded sisters. I could pick them out of crowd from a 100 yards back, and when they've finally confessed their infertility, do you know what I've done? Skirted the issue. Yeah. She who once proclaimed herself an IF warrior, who once took it as a personal mission to lift other IFers up, found herself running for the hills at the mere mention of broken reproductive organs. Pretty lame...
I wouldn't exactly say I was 'running for the hills', per say (I do tend to be overdramatic in my writing sometimes). I didn't shut them down or stop listening and I didn't give them the lame platitudes they probably hear often from some of their ill-advised but well-meaning friends, but I certainly didn't go out of my way to either get or give more information as I would have just a year or two ago. I showed empathy and let the subject linger long enough so as to not express the reluctance I was feeling, and then, as soon as the polite window rolled open, I was out. Frankly, the subject is just too painful.
I find myself right back in the place where I was 5 years ago. OK, perhaps not in the exact place as I now have a child, but I could literally rewrite every one of my posts from 2008 (just insert child). They would be nearly as angsty and heart-broken and after having my son, I never EVER would've believed it possible to be dropped right back into the middle of that mess. I could still blog about my most recent miscarriage and my frustration over the lack of movement towards any resolution, only I could write many more chapters on that last part now. In 2008, I was in active treatment for at least half the year. Currently, I haven't seen a needle since October of 2012.
OK. Let's just let this last statement sink in. I am sitting here lamenting that I haven't gotten the chance to pump myself full of hormones. Seriously. Sometimes I wonder what reality I'm sitting in. But it is a reality that has me feeling trapped and hopeless. Without the highest level of medical intervention, my chance for another child is a solid 0%. I think it's safe to say that after 9 years. And without that chance, I am in limbo, infertility purgatory, where I can neither begin to grieve and move on or start making plans. You'd think I would have had enough training in the unknown and unresolved by now, but I guess not. I am in a nebulous space, a lonely space, and the mere mention of infertility, even in casual conversations with strangers, threatens to bring me to tears. This is why I cannot be anyone's shoulder just yet.
I could also talk about my husband's reluctance to throw money at the chance to have a child when he is content with how our life is currently, only now it would include the statement, "another" child and the price would be much higher. And, in some respects, I could still talk about how isolating being here is, except back then in 2008, I could drop in on a regular RESOLVE meeting and feel heard. Now, that doesn't feel like a possibility. As I've mentioned in the past, I am a square peg trying to fit in a round hole in IF support land.
While there are obvious differences between now and then, the most important element remains the same: I want to get to that little person who I've never met, but I don't know how or IF it will happen. That old familiar feeling has revisited me, telling me that someone is missing here and although I thought it part of my past, I find myself consumed by it once again.