I like to play a little game where I look back on my archives from a year (or two or three) ago to see where I was then and what I was writing about. I was playing this game recently and came across some really thought provoking posts from November of 2011. A quick comparison with my posts from this past month and one thing is abundantly clear. This struggle has totally hijacked my writing. I haven’t written much of substance in the past eleven months; my writing has been almost completely focused around our struggle to conceive.
That makes me sad. And somewhat disappointed in myself. I want to write something of substance again. I want to write posts that inspire the kind of comments that continue a dialogue. I want to work through my thoughts on an issue and test drive my opinions. I want to write something worth reading.
Because what I’ve been writing, at least for the past few months, is hardly worth reading. It’s just the same song, sung with different words; the melody never varies. And that melody is depressing and self-obsessed. It isn’t really useful to anyone but me. At least it doesn’t feel useful to anyone but me.
I don’t know. Maybe it is. The last month has made another point painfully clear; there is not much out there about secondary fertility. It’s incredibly difficult to find resources to help one work through the experience. Of course there are tons of books on infertility, what causes it and how to treat it. Ironically I had a lot of those books long before I actually suffered from the condition. But when it comes down to the experience of it, the emotional and social day-to-day? There just isn’t much. In fact, there is close to nothing.
Even as I search for blogs, most of the women struggling with secondary infertility already dealt with primary infertility. While there are many similarities between the two, it is a subtly different experience. Now don’t get me wrong, I devour the blogs of all women struggling to have their second child and their stories of strength are a salve for my soul. But I would love to find more stories of women who, like me, are also struggling to understand how it worked last time but isn’t working again. Who can’t fathom what is going wrong, especially when she reads of women who suffered from primary infertility but were spared the experience of secondary infertility. If some women are “fixed” by pregnancy, why is the opposite happening to her?
But back to the point of this post, before yet another entry is hijacked by my fucking bullshit struggle. I want to write more about secondary infertility, because I think it needs to be written about. The problem is I’m not quite sure how to write about it productively. To compound the issue, I’m not sure WHAT aspects about it I should cover. It’s also a hard subject to broach in a community where most women are dealing with an even more difficult challenge: primary infertility (I’m not trying to play pain olympics but I believe that primary infertility would be a much harder cross to bear than secondary infertility for me and I judge my own struggle against the struggles of others accordingly). So basically I’m not sure what to say, how to say it, and how to be sensitive enough of others when I make my attempts.
But I do want to try. I want this blog to be a place where people come to talk about interesting things. I don’t want it to be a sad, ugly diatribe; unwavering from one post to another. Certainly I will write those cathartic posts when I need to, but I worry that if that is all I write, I won’t have anyone reading at the end of this.
Looking back at those old posts, there were so many comments, and such a large portion of them were made by people who haven’t commented in months, maybe a year. I must have lost those people along the way. Heck, some of those long-gone commenters are women I considered good friends, who left me when my outlook became to negative and depressing (some have actually told me that is why the left). It’s clear that I can’t expect people to stick around while I circle the same issues ad nauseam.
So I shall endeavor to post some more though provoking posts. Because (1) I don’t want to be alone at the end of this journey, pathetically licking my own wounds and (2) I don’t want to become that person who has nothing else to talk about except her own pain and disappointment. I want to tackle relevant issues with thoughtfulness. I want to inspire dialogue and participate in the exchange. I want to write something that is worth reading again.
I want to be me, the woman I was before so much of myself was kidnapped by the pain and fear of this struggle. I want to show the world the person I am proud of being, even if I’m not a hundred percent sure she’s even here anymore. I guess I’ll never know until I try to find her.
And so I will. Wish me luck.