Really, it is a simple question with a simple answer, but as I stared at the question, I was almost offended. (offended really isn't the right word, but I can't figure out a better one.) For a decent number of women who complete that questionnaire, that answer is far from simple. I understand that their reason for asking is all about the x-rays that they take and their intent to protect the unborn. So while the truth is that I am desperately trying to get pregnant, the fact of the matter is that they don't need to protect me from the x-rays because there is no chance that I am pregnant.
I thought about circling the "trying to get pregnant" answer, since I really am. But it would have just led to a pointless discussion that I didn't really want or need to have. So I left it blank. As far as my dentist is concerned I am not trying. Why, I wonder, am I so bothered by that?
Maybe the question could have read, "Are you pregnant? Is there any chance you might be pregnant?" I wouldn't have to lie about a question like that. (I do know that this is taking it a bit far, but it is honestly where my mind went as I lied there with my mouth open and full of instruments.)
Maybe I am a little obsessive, but I thought about this question for the duration of my cleaning, and now I am here writing about it. Now I can let it go.
* * * *
Unrelated to the dentist, I cam across an old post, "Confessions of a lurker", on "Somewhat lower" that I need to share. Sara talks about how and why the pain of infertility is different. She says: " The fact is that little in life can prepare you to have to make such potentially life-changing decisions, often with so little information, and with so little social support." Something about reading that was so incredibly validating for me. Of course. I am learning how to deal with this as I experience it. It is like learning how to swim after being dumped in the middle of the Ocean. Considering that, I am doing a pretty good job!
She also talks about the length of time that we are left alone in that Ocean. She says: " I think that's the problem. With many other kinds of loss, the loss happens as an event. With infertility, it's not an event, it's a process that can go on for years. The outcome is not clear. The only way to know if a decision was good was with 20/20 hindsight. So, it's hard to know when to laugh, when to cry, when to mourn, when to pick yourself up and try again, and when to move on." With so many other kinds of loss, there is a specific event, a specific time-frame. We can see the shore and swim towards it. But with infertility we are swimming in a direction that we hope will take us to the shore, we could be swimming in circles, we might have chosen the wrong direction and actually are swimming away from the shore. And all the while we are using up our energy, our limited resources. Reading Sara's post made me feel like I am not alone in the Ocean. There are others who are out here with me - and a team of cheerleaders back on shore rooting for me to keep going, knowing that i will eventually get there.
I felt like she was reading my mind. It is an incredible post. Thank you Sara.
