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Infertility's Wounds May Always Sting

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a blog by jennandtonica, Oct. 26, 2010

I still expect to see bruises in the crook of my left arm from frequent monitoring blood work.

I can't hear women and/or couples make plans to get pregnant together without automatically adding, "… until miscarriage or infertility ruin the plans for one of you."

I have to fake a certain amount of excitement for early pregnancies because my two early losses taught me to prepare for the worst.

I can't hear women complain about missing alcohol without thinking, "I'd happily give it up for the rest of my life if it meant a healthy pregnancy."

I brood for hours when a woman flippantly comments on not needing to try to get pregnant — that sort of thing just happens.

I feel immensely guilty for being on this side of the infertility fence and worry about offering any advice to those still fighting the other side. My advice hasn't changed, but I worry that it looks different coming from a different place.

I bristle when infertility warriors call me an inspiration because I know a certain amount of bitterness and jealousy accompanies that inspiration.

I haven't recorded each step of this pregnancy because the thought or possibility of having to hide or destroy the evidence of happiness scares me into avoidance.

Sure, the negative after-effects continue to hurt, but I'm not sure I would trade my experiences for one of blissful ignorance. Not only am I beyond excited to meet my triplets — three little lives that are only possible through all the circumstances we've endured — but what I've learned along the way is absolutely priceless.

Because of what I've lived through, I aim to be one fewer pregnant lady who says stupid things to people who secretly (or not so secretly) envy the status of my uterus. I know that isn't always going to happen (complaints just slip out when I'm having a bad back-pain day), but those women are constantly in my thoughts.

Because of my struggles and losses, I am able to connect with some of my best friends in a way I never could before. I know where they've been, and I know that a simple hug is better than the dreaded "I feel sorry for you" face.

Because of the advice and support I needed along the way and the help I learned to give out, I've encountered some truly wonderful people — some of which I consider dear friends. Our struggles brought us together.

I hope and pray that my triplets never know the pain of infertility and pregnancy loss. Whether they do or don't, I hope I can hang onto what I've learned and experienced long enough to at least give them a shred of understanding. One tiny shred can go an awfully long way. I know that because a shred was sometimes all I had left of hope.

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