Every night before I climb into bed I take a little pill. A magic little pill it is. I call these little pills my happy pills. They don’t so much make me happy, but they really do help me feel not quite so sad.Seriously though, I’ve spent a lot of time reading the stories of so many other women who are living this life crisis and am a little shocked that no one else talks about this. Is it that no one else has a bottle of happy pills, or is it that no one else talks about it – even here where the most intimate details of our lives are shared.
The diagnosis of infertility is the worst news I have ever been given. It shook me to my core. It changed me forever. It was a trauma unlike any other that I have ever experienced. Everything about my life as I understood it, my purpose for being, my dreams my future, everything changed in that instant.
And yet I carried on, as best as I could, with my work, and my volunteer commitments, and my friends. Except, it was exhausting. I was exhausted trying to hold it together everyday. I walked around, going through the motions, yet the only thing I could think about was the overwhelming grief and the unspoken fears. Every time I got in the car, alone with the radio, I fell apart. I cried more tears in those first months than I have my entire life. But I managed somehow.
Waiting,
Appointments,
Waiting,
Tests,
Waiting,
Appointments,
Waiting,
Results,
Waiting,
Procedures,
Waiting,
Appointments.
Waiting.
It turns out I am stronger than I ever gave myself credit for being. I really am.
But it was so hard. And I was so tired. And the journey ahead felt like it was so far.
You know, we were seeing doctors, lots of them. But they were focused on the medical part of our infertility. The weren’t concerned with us, with how well we were handling the choices they kept giving us. And even if they had been, we were managing, we put on a good show, we were holding it together.
I suppose I could have gone on like that. Managing. Getting by. Going through the Motions. It sucked, but I was surviving. We were surviving.
But then we got back the results of our second biopsy, the FNA map. I was hoping for good news that there was sperm and we could proceed with IVF. But I was also prepared for bad news that there was no sperm and we could proceed with DS IUI. We received the bad news, there was no sperm. But we also got a third option -6 months of hormone therapy to try and create sperm. I wasn’t prepared for the third option and it knocked me down hard. Six more months of waiting!?! Still no definitive plan!?! Thousands of additional dollars!?! I wasn’t prepared for this.
The idea of using donor sperm is so hard to accept. I started out thinking that it wasn’t even an option that I would ever consider. I even told my mom at one point early on that if we couldn’t use My Lovers’ sperm we were finished trying. Smart me, I reserved the right to change my mind about any decision at any time. At this point in our journey, I knew that we had to exhaust our options for full biological children before we could accept donor sperm. I knew that I, we, still had some emotional work to do before actually moving forward with DS IUI, but it felt like an acceptable option for building our family, if we knew that My Lover’s sperm really wasn’t an option.
I wasn’t prepared for this third option and I just fell apart. I wasn’t strong enough to keep going through the motions. I just completely lost it. And I couldn’t pull myself back together. It was a combination of the sadness over the FNA results, the uncertainty of our next steps, and partly that I had just run out of energy.
My Lover and I had been seeing a couple’s counselor since we got the initial diagnosis, and she finally suggested that I ask my Dr. for a prescription for an SSRI anti depressant. Finally. Finally someone saw that I was suffering. Someone saw that the pain was overwhelming. Someone noticed that I could only tread water on my own for so long. Someone threw me a floatie.
The happy pills are my floatie. I’ve still got to tread water out here in this vast ocean. But I’ve got a little help. I’ve got a little more energy. I’ve got a little more perspective and the ability to feel beyond the pain.
It’s been at least a couple weeks since I cried. (I take that back, actually, because Dory’s comment about the Father’s Day cards had me going yesterday, but before that it had been at least two weeks.) Let me tell you I am so grateful for this break from the tears. I’ve spent time with friends, smiling and laughing, and ohhh is that nice. I feel like me again, a changed me for sure, but me.
So, I suppose that this really long post is really to ask if I really am the only one with a bottle of happy pills, and if so why?If the reason is that no one has noticed and offered a floatie, I hope that you’ll consider taking the one I am offering right now and make an appointment to talk to your Dr. I personally wish that I hadn’t waited so long.
8 comments :
Thanks for popping bye.
I am taking happy pills and have certainly spoken about it. It is nothing to be ashamed of. They certainly take the edge off for me. It can take a while to find one that works but I suggest people don't give up on them, once the right one is found they do work! I am glad they have not made you feel so sad.
It's great that you found something that will help. Happy pills can be a lifesaver. And IF is painful, to say the least, and we all deserve to, well, be happy and to have a good quality of life. After all, knowing what i know of your story, you have seriously important decisions to make. Best to make them from a good place! :)
I haven't taken pills for IF reasons, but I took them years ago for anxiety, panic disorder, and depression. They saved me, in ways I can't even describe. I've considered going back on them, I've just had such terrible experiences with medications lately that I almost have a phobia of them now.
I'm glad you're being open about your meds! This is an important topic to talk about. As infertiles, we have to be so strong, almost inhumanly strong, and it's easy to just break under the pressure of it all... so really, if the help is out there to keep that strength that is so desperately needed, no one should be embarrassed or too proud to take advantage of it.
Excellent post. Thank you for being honest!
I've takin the happy piulls in the past. Strangely though, as terrible and difficult as IF has been for me - and I've had black times, I haven't yet felt like it's a hole that I can't dig myself out of. If I get there, then I'll certainly look at happy pills again. I don't know that it's a subject that we don't talk about - but it is certainly something we should remember is an option. This weekend when we saw our couples counslor, she suggested that DH consider happy pills. I don't think that he's given it serious consideration, but maybe he will. I certainloy won't force it on him.
Foxy, I'm sorry that I made you cry!!!!! :-)
Also, our doctor has suggested a male infertility supplement for Bobby. I was reading about it last night and it includes some sort of drug (with the vitamins... weird?!?) that is a relaxant. It's normally used to treat overweight women who have stress-eating patterns, but has also been shown to improve sperm quality in men, since count is related to stress. Anyway, I think this is as close as we've gotten so far to "happy pills." I'm going to post about them in the near future to give you more details, I wonder if anyone's ever tried these things!!
I have taken them in the past, but I really didn't like how they made me feel. Instead of happier, they made me feel numb. It wasn't that I wasn't crying, it was that I couldn't. It's kind of hard to explain. Plus I had sexual side effects from every one I tried.
I went off them a few months before starting the adoption process because I was worried about how it would look on the adoption forms if I had to list it under meds I am taking.
I was mad at the medical community in general when they took my ovaries and uterus without making sure I was mentally stable enough to handle it. I wrote a blog post about it. When I went for my post-op appointment, nobody asked me how I was doing mentally/emotionally. It was all about what stage the cancer was and the surgery results. Nothing like- hey, have you considered jumping off a bridge? Would you like a prescription for something that may keep you from jumping off a bridge? I was 31, childless, and had my uterus and ovaries taken with only two weeks notice. How could anyone be okay??
I read a few weeks ago that an infertility diagnosis can cause depression equal to that of a cancer or AIDS diagnosis. How can anyone hear that and be expected to handle this crap on their own?
That being said, I'm not on happy pills, but I probably should be. I'm just too stubborn. To me, it feels like infertility is already beyond my control, I should be able to control what's going on in my brain. I'll let you know if it's working.
i had a miscarriage at 17 weeks at the end of november, but it was mid-may (a week or so after what would have been my due date) when i actually started taking anti-depressants. i wouldn't say that i didn't need them before then - but i didn't want them. i needed to come a certain distance on my own before i was willing to think about help. i'm quite open about it and blogged about it when i was initially thinking about it, and when i decided to. and in the real world i am very open about it and tell everyone too. there shouldn't be a stigma about it, and i hope that by telling everyone i can help chip away at the stigma that does still remain.
dropped in from LFCA. hi!
The waiting is sometimes the hardest. The waiting and not knowing how this will go on, if you will ever get to the goal. I'm glad you're getting help.
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