DEAD BIRD – NOW FOR THE DEAD HORSE

After drafting what feels like a dozen posts (OK, just 7) about that fun topic secondary infertility with all kinds of emotionally charged nonsense and lame attempts at woe-is-me blithering, I’m instead going to share a couple of my blogging observations…and then the blithering.

  • The majority of primary infertility (PIF) blogs I began reading in 2005 did finally become pregnancy, and even parenting, blogs.
  • Ironically, most of them went from PIF to oh-my-god-I’m-pregnant-with-baby-number-two-and-junior-isn’t-even-one-yet blogs.
  • Of the minority that did not, and are still blogging, they are now blogging about how they finally now “get” what shit secondary infertility is.
  • Of those not still blogging after having their first baby, I’ve received a smattering of emails telling me they finally “get” what shit secondary infertility is.
  • Bloggers who are blogging through PIF, and who even occasionally stop by – or use to –occasionally let it slip that SIF isn’t infertility at all.

I encountered the latter attitude in small doses when I started blogging four years ago. There was probably way more, but I made sure to surround myself with either those who were going through SIF or who made a genuine attempt to understand what we were going through.

But what happens when someone you hold in high regards – and have for over two years – and is going through PIF, and told you that they felt that many of the emotions and experiences you were going through were so similar to theirs that they realized that the “secondary” was for the most part, irrelevant, and could appreciate that SIF pretty much sucks, too; but then they end up posting something that basically scoffs the idea that anyone who has one child could even be infertile??

Well that’s what happened over a month ago and it’s been eating at me ever since. I left a very diplomatic comment (me?? I know!) about it and I was surprised I didn’t get a response. One could say in their defense that maybe they didn’t notice (this blogger is rather popular and had a bunch of comments on the post which wasn’t actually about SIF or PIF at all), and basically that’s what I thought so I went back to the post to reread it, to see if I had misunderstood, or maybe to find a reply via comments – you know, like I do – and the post had been edited to remove the reference that inspired this post.

I guess that’s why it’s taken me so long to write AND publish a post since it has no real point, no real reference and serves no purpose whatsoever except allow me to gripe about a blog, because according to some people I do happen “to enjoy it a bit too much.”

And here this paragraph starts 24 hours later than the prior paragraphs and I wonder all over again why is it I’m upset by this? My pain is my pain; your pain is your pain; why don’t we call the whole thing off…

Yes, there are different degrees to infertility, and it only really becomes relative when we read about how our situation is somehow minimized. If I said that you’re not really infertile if you can get pregnant on your first cycle of clomid, then any one of you that did get pregnant on your first cycle of clomid would take offense – or at least you should, because YOU owned that experience and pain, I didn’t. I have no idea what toll that took on you emotionally. I shouldn’t judge, but it’s seriously hard not to, if next to impossible for me. However, if nothing else, I know what infertility was…AND IS. It shouldn’t matter if I have one or five kids. I’ve cried more over the past four years than I have in all the years leading up to it, so yeah, I get a little pissy when I think someone might be making light of SIF.

Infertility scarred me very deeply and left an enormous swath of bitterness that I really want to heal. I get close. I tell myself that I don’t have to be miserable or defensive anymore. I don’t have to read infertility blogs anymore. I don’t have to blog anymore. So why do I?

I have so many things here to say and I’m running out of time and energy to say them. I don’t care about standing on the soap box as much as I use to. I give it a try occasionally (like with this post), and once I step up on it, the view is not as good as it use to be and the wood is soft and creaky from being left outside in the rain, and those willing to listen are there for the free punch.

*end metaphor*

**end blithering**

***end post***