Advocacy

a blog by Lori Shandle-Fox, April 26, 2012

If you ask any one of the 7 million people dealing with infertility what the worst part of being infertile is, they'd probably look at you like you were an imbecile, say something like:

"Not being able to get pregnant," followed by an implied: "Duh" look in case you hadn't picked up on the "imbecile" look.

I disagree. To me, the worst part of the journey is not the "I'm STILL not pregnant" part, it's the humongous question mark that looms over you from day one and grows bigger, darker and heavier with each passing menstrual cycle.

"Am I going to get pregnant next month?" "Am I going to get pregnant EVER?" "Will I ever be able to carry a baby for nine months?" "Will I ever have a SECOND child?" "Will this fertility drug work better than the last one?" "Will I need surgery?" "Will my husband stick around for all this?" "Will we go broke from the treatments?" "Will the fertility doctor come to the homeless shelter to do my next cycle?"

a blog by Melinda Davis, April 24, 2011

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week, and the theme for this year is “Don’t Ignore Infertility”. Although I have been blessed to reach the other side by being surprised with a miracle pregnancy, infertility is still something I think about on a daily basis.

I think most people think that once you achieve a pregnancy, all of the heartache and trauma of infertility automatically disappears. But I have learned that’s not the case. The memories are still fresh, and although the pain has been softened and replaced with joy, the scars remain and a layer of guilt has been added.

I feel guilty for seeing my dream come true, because my heart still aches for those still waiting. There are times I walk around in public noticing all of the other pregnant women around me, and wish I had a pin or something to wear saying “I have been there, and understand your pain” to encourage all of the friends and strangers still longing for a family.

a blog by Traci Shahan, RN, WHNP-BC, Doctor of Nursing, Albrecht Women’s Care Denver IVF, April 22, 2012

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
—Pablo Neruda

I'm unable to ignore the gift that God gave me, so I'm going to sing.
—Lisa Nicole Larsen

As I pen these words, I do so in my living room, tucked away in a window seat that is swaddled in heavy folds of taupe, silk drapes. This haven of mine is a few steps from the commotion of the family room and kitchen, but with my noise-canceling headphones, it would take a seven on the Richter Scale to get my attention, despite that my almost-15-year-old twin daughters, conceived via in vitro fertilization (IVF), are currently trying their hands with some concoction that includes fondant. I can only imagine the mess — flour trails here and there, sugary utensils on the cabinet, measuring cups cast asunder. It is a lazy Sunday afternoon in the Colorado foothills where I live. One of my Labs lies near, her toes twitching as she dreams her doggy dreams. I smell something sweet and yeasty wafting in from the kitchen. It snowed a bit last night, which made my trail run this morning fun and challenging. I sit in my seat. I write, today, about fertility and that we should not ignore our inner wisdom, our Inner Wise Woman. Had I, I certainly would not have become a mother, though it was a herky-jerky, scary, messy journey to get here.