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Thursday, January 26, 2012

Coming Out, Neighborhood Style

In my last post, I complained about people who can't go two seconds without talking about their babies.  What do they think about the weather?  Their baby likes it.  How do they feel about the big game?  They haven't cared about sports since Junior was born.  Thank goodness their lives have meaning now and such trivialities don't concern them anymore.

Whereas I can't relate to having a meaningful life—mine's still purposeless and insignificant, obviously—I can totally relate to their one-track minds.  I go through phases where getting pregnant is all I think about.  Before being consumed by basal body temperatures and fake pregnancy symptoms, I'd obsess about other stuff:  boyfriends (pre-husband), running, finishing my degree.  I was guilty of awkwardly turning conversations to my obsession du jour. 

One of my latest preoccupations, more of a semi-obsession than a full-blown one, has been to tell some neighborhood friends about our difficulty getting and staying pregnant.  Broaching the topic has proved tricky, though.  I hadn't been able to find an opening.  "How are you?"  "Ok, but my uterus isn't."  "Why didn't you come to the last party?"  "I was going through my second miscarriage.  Was there a keg?"  I just hadn't wanted to be a downer, you know?

Lately I've been ready to break my silence, though.  Last weekend after a glass of wine, I worked some conversational magic to turn a conversation from aging to infertility.  I said that aging hadn't bothered me until we started trying to conceive, and now my greying eyebrow hairs are constant reminders that it's just going to get harder for me to get (and stay) pregnant.  At the time,  I thought you could hear a pin drop after I said that.  I've known these women for years and I'm guessing they've wondered about my husband and me, the oddly childless ones.

In retrospect, the room didn't get silent.  A woman jumped in and started talking about her experiences with infertility and loss.  She's doing well now and has children, which is reassuring.  I felt connected, and the wall protecting my secrets came down a little more.  

Not telling can be a burden.  You miss out on support, for one thing.  You also lie.  For several weeks after my laparoscopy, I lied about why I had to miss my neighborhood yoga class.  Telling about the lap would have meant telling about endo, leading to questions about endo and fertility, which I wasn't ready for.  You also can't expect people to be sensitive if they don't know about your issues.  Maybe they'll still say dumb stuff after they know, but maybe they won't.  Maybe telling the entire neighborhood about our struggles will put an end to comments about how my husband and I must be rattling around in our house with its unused bedrooms.

I know there's a downside to telling, too.  I can't untell them and regain my privacy.  Telling people is addictive, though, and I'm going to enjoy this high as long as I can. 

Random thought of the day:  I get really excited when my work bathroom has new "Don't throw your tampon in the toilet" signs.  Someone else is menstruating and not pregnant!  Another possible sign of a fellow bleeder is hearing paper crackle in the next stall, although it usually just turns out the person changed the toilet paper roll.

21 comments:

  1. This is an interesting post on several levels. My first thought is "wow! yoga? parties? I don't even KNOW most of my neighbours!" But honestly, I'm open with my difficulties conceiving. It was more of a self-preservation thing, because I simply couldn't deal with the "so, when are you having kids" question anymore. I decided that it wasn't fair of me to be angry at that question if I wasn't open about my struggles. Before I went down this whole uncooperative uterus road, it never would have even crossed my mind that that could be a hurtful question. While I'm not grateful for the fact that I'm still not a mom, I AM grateful that this whole thing has made me a more compassionate, aware and empathetic person.

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    1. Yes, I really didn't know that asking about having kids could be hurtful, too. And I totally agree that this has made me more empathetic. I don't know a lot of my neighbors, either, just a few key pockets of them!

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  2. I've never regretted sharing with the few people I have told. I've been careful, though.

    ICLW. Good luck on your upcoming cycle. And thanks for visiting my blog.

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  3. Oooh! Good for you! And your neighbors sound awesome!

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  4. Good for you girl! There is something freeing about telling! And it sounds like these are people who are close to you and I hope they will continue to be there for you.

    I've only recently questioned our sharing with someone we told. I've realized that once I told them I expected something more from them... more sympathy, understanding... something. I don't feel like I've gotten that and it bothers me.

    Good for you for telling some close friends, hopefully it's like a little bit of your burden has been lifted!

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    1. Yeah. Not getting exactly the kind of response you're looking for is a major downside to telling. Sometimes you just want something different than what they're giving you.

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  5. That is hilarious. (The tampon crinkling.) Never occurred to me but now it will. So thanks!

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  6. Good for you!! I tell people one at a time, I'm still scared to talk about it for some reason... glad it's working out so well for you and your circle of friends! :D

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  7. Telling people IS addictive! (Good for you!) I'll tell pretty much anybody now. Sometimes I regret it when they act all horrified and OMG TMI-ish, but usually it's a great thing. I'm with Stephanie on thinking, "whoa, you know your neighbors?" I definitely do not.

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  8. I'm glad you are opening up. It really is better I think.
    The only major downside I think is that once people know they sometimes treat you differently. Moments get awkward when they want to talk about their kids or they wait forever to tell you they are pregnant.
    But I have opened up to a lot of people now. I don't regret it and I think that it's better for them to be informed and have the chance to be there for me.
    I would want a friend to tell me.

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  9. I find the more I open up about my infertility issues the more they learn and I'm educating them. Some people have preconceived notions as to why I don't yet have a family at my age of 42. Its not like we haven't been trying.

    I say tell them as much as you feel comfortable. If it shocks their sensibilities so what!

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  10. I agree about telling people. I find it freeing and then I get way fewer inquiries about why we don't have kids yet.

    You do neighborhood yoga?!

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  11. This is such a tricky topic. I have decided to be more open about our problems because it stops the questions and the more people talk about it maybe well get insurance companies to cover it. Plus it's neat when you find out people you've known for awhile have the same problem you do. We decided not to talk about treatments though because then ppl wanna know if it worked and people like to comment on money and thats not ok with me. Hang in there babe!

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  12. I totally go back and forth on this myself. It sucks to live a lie, and to see people saying really stupid shit out of ignorance - it makes me want to go all "break the silence" activist on the world. But then like someone else said, I don't want to invite the scrutiny of what are we doing now, is it working, etc. when sometimes I just want to be invisible. And I realized after having a frank conversation with my poor older brother that he still thinks of our issues as being related to sex and lady parts (for his sister, no less), which is why he thought it was taboo for him to bring up. You just don't know how far a leap you're asking the other person to take with you, I guess. I feel like I should end every post and comment with, "it all just sucks."

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    1. Hee, yeah. I'm feeling all "break the silence" activist lately but I definitely vacillate between that and wanting to be invisible. It just all sucks indeed.

      Ok, the convo with your brother sounds AWFUL. So embarrassing and frustrating at the same time.

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  13. Thanks for your comment on my blog...it's my first time on yours, too, and I love it!
    It's hard to decide who/when/what to tell. I found that as time went on with our struggles, I told more and more people. I also found myself avoiding some old friends because I didn't want our catch-up conversation to be all about my struggles and losses. And aside from a few people who needed to know for scheduling purposes, I wasn't really open about what was going on at work. But for me overall it was good to tell a number of people, even though it resulted in some unhelpful/hurtful comments...on balance the support more than made up for it.
    So sorry about your miscarriages and I hope your dreams are just about to come true!

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  14. I'm so glad you were able to share your story and get support from good friends. I've found that being open about my infertility has been a great relief and has allowed me to surround myself with people who have/will support me during treatment. That's been invaluable. It's scary, though, as there are some who clearly couldn't empathize and have let me down. But if I didn't take a chance, I wouldn't have known and would be going through all of this on my own.

    BTW: I'll never be able to look at the signs asking that tampons be disposed of in the trash without smiling.

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  15. Yeah, me in the closet firmly. The few people we told felt good, tho. I am glad that you get support. Stupid eyebrow hairs are turning for me, too. The traitors!

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  16. Someone close to me has been struggling with this and, sometimes I wish that she would go ahead and tell the world, cause if it's hard for me to listen to the comments about her and her fiance probably liking their freedom and convenient life style too much to ever want children, when I know all about their losses and tears, I can only imagine how it hurts her to hear it.

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  17. I have told a few people and it has been GREAT. I definitely don't want the world to know though so I am selective in which friends know what is going on.

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  18. I told someone yesterday for the first time and amazingly enough she's going through the same thing too. She's the only person I've told, outside of my husband, and it was so great to share with someone who gets it. I'm not so sure I want to share with people who don't - maybe I'll come around to the idea!

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