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Do you ever feel the heart-filling, tear-jerking joy of pregnancy after trying for years and maybe losing a few conceptions? Not in the same innocent way that you would have had you not tried and tried so hard for so long. Sure, there's, no doubt, joy in being pregnant! It's not a question of quantity, but quality.
The first time we conceived, we had been trying for two years but we had not yet gone through any extraordinary measures. We hadn't even had any diagnostic testing, since we were told there were no problems to expect (note: that prognosis by a "fertility specialist" was based on all of three months' charting and nothing else.) All it took was one early loss, and I never felt the same naive, insanely giddy elation again.
Five pregnancies and four losses later, I allowed myself some "joy time" after my amniocentesis indicated my son was healthy. I'm willing to put the feelings that I had then up against the first-time-pregnancy wide-eyed wonder, any day.
Don't you just "get over it all" when your miracle child is born? Some things, yes. Others, no. I have found that my experience was so unsettling in a pervasive way, that I am still waiting for the other shoe to drop on many occasions. That quiet, nagging cloud actually makes way for even greater sighs of relief at the tiniest victories -- like a clean bill of health at a well-baby peds visit.
When you become a parent, you join "that world," the one into which many in our community are still striving to gain admission. Sometimes, talking to parents who did not go through conception or pregnancy difficulties only enhances the sensation of being somehow different. Little voices inside your head ask, "I wonder if she just poof got pregnant when she wanted to?" as if that fact would have some bearing on who she is as a person. Thing is, it would. Knowing that, I appreciate all the more my friends who understand me intimately.
Do you ever forget that you had trouble conceiving or maintaining a pregnancy? No, I seriously doubt it, unless you have a major head trauma that causes amnesia. Even then, I'm betting it's a life situation that would come through the fog while you can't remember your name.
In the years that I've been talking to others about infertility and its aftermath, I've learned that many share my thoughts and feelings. Always, of course, variations on these themes are a matter of quality.
I was hoping like heck to hear from the chatroom mommy-to-be that some folks do indeed "get over it" and that breaks are handed out in the end. I am always conscious of the fact that my own experience colors my work with others, so I often wonder if my gauge is a little off.
Guess not.
© Tracy Morris
