Belonging...or maybe not...

In 2007 at the tender young age of 24 I found myself joining a community I always suspected I belonged to. At a time in my life when I was celebrating my second wedding anniversary and still finding out who I was I was diagnosed with infertility. I was finding myself in the world, making mistakes, and learning who I wanted to be. And one day I was faced with a diagnosis that changed my life completely. Infertility made me who I am: as a parent, as a partner, as a person. In the three years it took to finally hold my beautiful newborn son in my arms infertility had molded me into who I would be for the rest of my life. I take nothing for granted. I realize how precious all things are, most importantly life. How hard fought it is to actually have a pregnancy survive from conception and become a gorgeous babe cuddled in your arms. I've dealt with loss and triumphed in the end. I've faced reality and truly believed I'd never be a mother. I've had highs and I've had lows. And each and every one of my days since my diagnosis has been touched by infertility. It is who I am. I am an infertile. It has shaped how I parent. Each decision weighed heavily against the battle it was to bring him into this world.  When I found the infertility blogging community I felt like I'd found my home. A safe place to belong. People who had been there. People who finally knew and understood what I was feeling. These were my people. I celebrated with them. I mourned with them. We supported each other's successes and helped heal through the heartbreaks. And now I find myself unexpectedly pregnant after primary infertility. And suddenly I'm lost. Left without a community. I still consider myself an infertile. It still defines me and how I make my decisions, but I struggle daily with how to reconcile what is happening. I certainly can't compare myself to someone struggling in the trenches of infertility, primary or secondary. I'm not pregnant after treatment, so I guess that makes me just plain old "pregnant". But my personal identity, the person who I see myself as, is an infertile. I can't see myself without that component. It has been a part of me for too long and I accepted it as a part of me.

A few months ago I dreaded seeing those posts from bloggers unexpectedly pregnant on their own after IF. Don't get me wrong I was happy for them, but it wasn't without a pang of jealousy and that something like that would never happen to me. I wasn't even sure IVF would result in another pregnancy or baby for us. And DH wasn't interested in treatment again anyway. So when I found myself pregnant on our own I was torn. I knew my sharing would cause pain to others. And now I find myself feeling confused about who I am and where I fit in. I haven't told many IRL about the pregnancy, luckily we live far from family so I don't have to hide the growing bump. But a few who do know gave me that knowing smirk when they found out this was a surprise baby conceived without ART. Commenting that happened to so and so too, or that once a body knows how to get pregnant of course it can do it again on its own. Those comments drive straight to my heart. They are so far from true. I know so many trying to conceieve baby 2+ on their own after ART who simply can't. But my story becomes one that will be repeated by well meaning people who don't know better to infertiles as an example that it will happen for them if they're just patient. Or just relax. Or just don't try. And that sucks. Because it simply isn't true. I know what is happening to us is a miracle. A miracle beyond my wildest dreams and imagination. Something I don't want shared with anyone else in a way that would cause pain, its just too special for that. A friend from MOMs Club, who is the sweetest lady ever, told me about her neighbor who has been trying for 3 years to conceive. She has done IVF and is getting ready to do a frozen embryo transfer. My MOMs Club friend told me she shared my story with her neighbor to try to give her hope that next time will be easier. I wanted to start crying immediately when she told me that. That was exactly the scenario that I didn't want what is happeneing to me to be shared in. I realize how painful it is to hear about these unplanned/unexpected pregnancies after IF for all infertiles.

In no way is this post meant to evoke sympathy or to come across as woes me. I am so incredibly happy and incredibly lucky and I know that. This is not a complaint at all. I just found myself awash with emotions I didn't expect and had to get them out. To try to make sense of the conflicted emotions I've been feeling. As with my last pregnancy there's plenty of survivor's guilt, maybe even a bit more based on the circumstances of conception.