A Passover Reflection

I know it's been a long time since I've written. For reasons that will come out later.

This evening we start the Jewish holiday of Passover. My friend Rachel has written this blog post. Thank you Rachel for sharing your story and your wise words.

During the Seder we will be recounting the story of the Exodus from Egypt and redemption from Pharaoh’s oppression, and many take time to reflect upon the broader theme of national and individual struggle and redemption. Since the birth of my son a few months ago, I have been processing my own challenges with infertility and pregnancy loss, and as Passover approaches I am reflecting on past Passovers without our children. Thank you to Rebecca for asking me to write a guest blog post about this process.

In the Haggadah, we read “All who are hungry, come and eat; all who are needy come and celebrate Passover."  Sometimes celebrating Passover and attending a Seder can be difficult. We may or may not know the challenges facing friends, family members, or strangers at the meal. Maybe you or someone you know are in need of a personal redemption.

The "It could always be worse" Syndrome

In chatting with friends and others going through fertility treatments, I’ve noticed a common theme. We sometimes get these pings of guilt. For a whole variety of reasons, but sometimes it’s because we think that we don’t deserve to feel bad. I’m honestly not for being in a chronic state of wallowing in self-pity, but there’s this feeling that what we’re dealing with is somewhat a choice. We think about how we’re not dying, as much as infertility is a disease and the majority of the time related to physical disabilities within the body, but no, there’s not a death connection. We think about how everyone is dealt different cards in life - maybe my finances are okay, or I have a loving supportive family, but I can’t have a baby, and so I shouldn’t feel bad because others have crappy finances or unsupportive families but can easily have a baby. We think about how we have friends who are still single in their 30s looking for someone to spend the rest of their lives with, and I’m complaining about how I can’t have children when they’re not even there yet! If we have secondary infertility we might think about how at least we could easily have 1 child whereas some people spend years trying for their first. We keep thinking about how it could always be worse.

This isn’t something that others say to us. No friend or family member actually feels this way about those close to them who are infertile. It’s totally something felt inside. In conversations that we have with ourselves or our partners. But maybe this is also our way of seeing the positive things in our lives too. It’s important to remember them. And we can be thankful for our health, our loving partner, our jobs, friends, family, etc.

A Year After Coming Out - A Reflection on my New Identity

When infertility becomes a part of your identity you can end up in a very dark place. There are many ups and downs, but it’s a huge adjustment. Some people grow up with a specific medical issue, or had a disease along the way, and are perhaps more prepared for the fact that infertility is a part of their lives. But for most of us, it’s a huge shift. We’re not prepared. There’s no book on “what to expect when you’re not expecting to be infertile”. And often, it’s something that we’re not willing to accept as a part of us, but rather something we “deal with” or “endure”. A combination of medical problems we didn’t even know existed, or didn’t realize would contribute to baby-making.

It took me a long time to accept the fact that infertility is a part of who I am. It was a deep secret. Many people hurt me because they didn’t know this side of me. I / we didn’t share it. Eventually we realized that we had no choice but to share. On the one hand, it was eating me up inside, making me bitter and angry. On the other hand, we had run out of resources.

A year ago I posted on facebook with a notice that we’re searching for a gestational surrogate. I’d say it was one of the scariest things I’ve ever put out in public. We had extended family and close friends who had no idea. In fact, no one really knew. And there it was, out in the world.

Rosh Hashana - Wishing for a Sweet New Year

This past week Jews around the world celebrated Rosh Hashana - we brought in the Jewish new year. It is a beautiful holiday, with mostly too much food. We spend a lot of time with family. Many of us go to synagogue for prayers. We dip apples in honey.

I often experience Rosh Hashana in 2 ways at the same time. The first is, “here I am again, on Rosh Hashana, and a whole year has gone by yet again without expanding our family.” It’s pretty pessimistic, I guess, but I can’t help but reflect on the year that was and realize that in this specific aspect of my life, not much has really changed. With almost every other aspect of our lives we have the control, we make the choices. Not getting that deserved promotion? We look for a new job. Hate where we live? We can find a new apartment or house. Feeling unhealthy? We can choose to eat better and exercise more, even if it’s really really hard to make these decisions and stick to them. At the end of the day, we control that. When it comes to baby making, everything is out of control. If a cycle will even work. Our response to drugs. How many embryos will develop to Day 5. If we’ll find a surrogate. If she’ll sign the contract. If embryos will actually develop better with an egg or sperm donor. So much up in the air. All the time.

Breaking Routine

We haven't taken a real vacation since last August when we flew to Israel for my sister-in-law's wedding. On the way back to Toronto, we took 6 days in Switzerland. It was amazing. But it's been tough to get away this year. So a few weeks ago my parents-in-law came in for a visit for 2 and half weeks. We had a great time. Although we were still here, this totally broke up our routine, which was excellent.

We're creatures of habit. We love our routines. And now that they've left, we're happy to get back to routine. But it was nice to create a sort of staycation. We travelled a lot. Stayed within a 3 hour radius of Toronto - Killbear Provincial Park, St. Jacob's, Prince Edward County... So much to see around us! And eat. We got to see Toronto through a tourist's lens. While we went to work, we sent them all around the city. Made them walk everywhere. Through them we discovered new neighbourhoods that we must go to.

Exercising the Patience Muscle

I am a very impatient person (I'll be blunt). I get frustrated when people don’t understand me or my intentions. Usually I’m the one not being clear enough, but it’s difficult. I used to be a teacher and for kids, I somehow have tons and tons of patience. But if I’m teaching my husband something about the English language, for example, I’m terrible, and can’t understand if it takes him too long to get it. We live in a world of quick results. If a website takes more than a second to load it throws off SEO. We send emails and call that person to see if they got it. Like, why not just talk to the person to begin with? Social media updates instantly with new posts. I’m not blaming society for my shortcomings. I know this is something I need to work on. I’m just saying that it’s a lot easier to work on it in the middle of nowhere with no distractions or expectations. But that’s not where I live - at least not for most of the year.

Going through infertility has brought light to my lack of patience. The whole process is a huge test in patience. We have no choice, but to be patient. Otherwise we’d all give up. And I don’t blame anyone that does. Sometimes you just need to say enough is enough. The best is when healthcare practitioners will encourage you to be patient - as if patience is what gives us a baby. It’s not. It’s technology. And money. And the stars of reproduction lining up. And luck.

I like to think that I am at least aware of what I need to improve about myself. I recognize that no one is perfect, and neither am I, obviously. So after almost 5 years of trying to have a baby, I am finally going to intentionally try to practice patience. Perhaps it will help me deal with infertility, and hopefully also help me in life in general.

Looking Forward on my 5th Childless Birthday

This past week has felt weird. A few days ago I turned 32. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been one to overly celebrate my birthday. It’s never been a count-down for me like some other people I know. I think I’ve always been pretty modest about my birthday. As a kid, it was obviously fun with birthday parties (I had a bowling party 3 years in a row) and presents and friends and cake. I’d often be at summer camp either skipping around a room, with my face in a cake, or thrown into the lake. My early twenties also included some fun Toronto bars. I think the last birthday that was really exciting for me was 25. I had just moved to Israel a few weeks earlier, and it was a quarter-century, so I sort of cared. 26 was fun because 10 days earlier I got engaged, so I was still high from that and this was the year I’d get married to the man of my dreams. At 27 I had gotten married a few months before and was getting excited for our honeymoon in September to Thailand for a month. And then we started trying to have kids and I figured by 28 I’d be a mom, or an almost mom. I definitely figured I’d have at least 2 kids by 32.

Last week I couldn’t really figure out why I wasn’t excited for my birthday. For a few years now I haven’t really wanted to do anything. For my 30th my parents came to visit for a few days in Israel and the whole family celebrated with me. Even threw me a surprise party. Which was fun. But it feels like every year that goes by is just another year that I’m not a mom. I keep feeling like I’m getting older, like not just a year older, but old. I keep thinking about how when my kid is 30 I’ll be 62, which is fine but older than the original plan, and it could take more time. So each year I think about how I’m getting into my 60s rather than my 30s. How I’ll be an old grandmother even if I’m a “normal-aged” mom in my mid-30s (hopefully). This might seem crazy, but as the years keep progressing with infertility, my sense of urgency increases, and my age to me seems so much older than I probably am. Constantly joking about how I’m old probably doesn’t help my psyche either.

So I did end up celebrating my birthday. We had cake at the office (this is standard). I went out for dinner with my husband, parents, and brother to this really great local pub and had an awesome time. I had some close friends over for food and drinks (and more drinks) which was so fun! I can’t hide from my birthday, so why not celebrate.