I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, this tends to get me in a lot of trouble, but I want to share my thought process.
What it’s like to be cast off the Island of the Fertiles:
1. It’s a gut wrenching, soul shattering experience. There is nothing worse than to know that you are not like everyone else. There is nothing worse than to know that your body is not doing what it’s supposed to do, what it’s designed to do.
2. It’s lonely. You feel like the only one in the world with this problem. This disease. You feel like a leper, an outcast. You feel like you are looking in from the outside. You wonder if you will ever be allowed back.
3. It’s tiresome. There is nothing worse than to experience treatment after treatment, failed cycle after failed cycle. You barely live a life around monitoring appointments, medications, blood work, having sexy time. It’s all reduced down to an endless schedule.
4. It’s full of waiting. You are constantly waiting. Waiting for AF, waiting to O, waiting to trigger, waiting to sex it up, waiting to inseminate. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Nothing but waiting.
5. It’s stressful. There is an innate pressure from being cast off. You want desperately be allowed back. You want to be whole, normal. You find you will do almost anything for a chance to be allowed back. You put your body through hell with no guarantee of anything.
You hope. You cry. You rage. You pray. You bargain. You beg. You start making deals with any deity that will listen. You start going slightly crazy. And, if you are somehow allowed back, you find you are forever changed. You realize that babies are not just made with a man and wife, but they are made with a man, wife, and doctors and nurses. Sometimes, they are made by strangers who graciously donated sperm or eggs or embryos. Sometimes, they are not made at all. Sometimes, you never got off the island, just shuffled to a different part.