As the Mourning Yields to the Daylight

I have to admit, there’s a sense of freedom in finally deciding to adopt. No more wondering whether I should order a glass of wine with my dinner; no more half giving up coffee; no more having two minds about getting into the Jacuzzi or the bath. I don’t have to wonder anymore whether or not I should get my period. No more taking a home test kit just in case my lightheadedness or tiredness is due to eventual pregnancy and consequently, no more disappointments after the first sign of my menstruation. Then remaining hopeful that maybe it’s just the slight bleeding from implantation like I had before (I had a slight bleeding for 5 days before I found out that I was pregnant with Sam) until the actual period comes. Yes, I’m finally free!! No more monthly roller coaster I seem to have been on for 6 years. The downside now is figuring out the next few weeks, months or even years of waiting and knowing how to respond to well-wishers.

Today after church, a couple from our community group asked us how the IVF turned out. At the end of the conversation, I caught myself saying, “Thank you for asking.” and Alan agreeing unequivocally grateful for the question. They’re the first ones to ask outside our family and a few of my confidants. I know it must be difficult to know what to say, what to ask or how to ask in situations like ours unless one has been in the same or similar circumstance. Know this though, asking or saying something is better than avoiding it like a disease. It’s actually more hurtful not to say anything. I know I’m Asian but I’m not very good at the Asian way either. You know, going around the subject. I know exactly where they want to go, but they keep going around the bush hoping that I’d catch on and bring up the subject myself because god forbid if they asked, they’d hurt my feelings. If we have confided in you, you have the right to ask.

So how should you ask: Now that you know that our IVF attempts have gone nowhere you no longer have to ask. But should you find yourself in the same situation again, here are a few pointers. First, don’t ask a couple who have been married for years when are they going to have children (unless you are close friends). Stay clear, you never know what the situation is. Don’t wave a baby in their faces saying, “see, you could already have one of these.” (I swear, someone did this to Alan and me. The lady had already been taunting us about getting pregnant for years, constantly asking us why we’re not having children yet, claiming that if we waited too long, it’d be too late. At a dinner party one night, she took one of her grandbabies, waving it in front of Alan and me claiming that it would be wonderful to have one of those. No, she is not family. No she is not a close friend. No, she had no business. Up to this day, I still could not be in the same room as that person). If you know they can’t pregnant, don’t hide your own pregnancy from them thinking that it might make them feel bad. Infertility is not something we wish on others and for pig’s sake, we CAN be happy for you. But don’t overdo it by talking about how bad your pregnancy is or how fat you look. Honestly, I really enjoyed being fat. If your friends are going through IVF and they had confided in you, count yourself both blessed and responsible. It is now your responsibility to follow up. “How did your treatments go?” is a start. “How has the medications been affecting you.” “Who’s administering the shots?” And for pig’s sake, don’t just ask, “HOW ARE YOU?” knowing exactly what you want to know. Infertility or IVF is not Voldemort, mention his name and all his wizards would come after you. When the answer is negative, just say, “I’m sorry.” No really, that’s all you have to say and rest in the discomfort of the silence. Don’t say more.

I know that it’s human nature to say something encouraging. These phrases are not in themselves bad, but to me, they are actually more hurtful.

“Don’t give up. Keep trying.” – yes, if I had a hundred dollars every time I heard those words, we could probably afford adoption by now. “Don’t give up.” All I heard there is “give up.” I may have realized my limitations, and so did my fertility doctor, but I am not defeated. So you know, we have not given up.

“Keep praying, god will provide.” – Now, this is a tricky one. Like I said, they are not bad phrases at all, but my problem with this one is that more often than not, God provides in a much different way than what we have envisioned in our prayers. So what if I didn’t get pregnant? Does that mean God does not love me, and therefore did not provide? Does that mean that I had no faith? Does it mean that I hadn't prayed enough? I can’t take this against my well-wishers and this reaction probably reflect my insecurities more than anything else, nevertheless…

“You can always adopt.” – I can always adopt? Just like that, my problem fixed. I can always adopt. First of all, it’s no that easy. Adoption is not that easy. Secondly, adoption is not a backup. It is not a second rate. For me, we are adopting because we feel called. Sometimes, when we want something so bad and god is not providing in a way we want him to, we step back and ask god for vision and clarification. Our desire to have another child is still there. There are other ways to have a child. To us, adoption is where we feel god is leading us. There’s a big difference and it is an important difference.

“Have you tried…” – Yes, we’ve heard it all and tried it all. Acupuncture, massage, yoga, getting drank (not quite tried having sex in the back of the car or in a room next to mom’s though). Advising them only suggests that we don’t know anything about the very thing we are suffering, neither do our fertility specialist, acupuncturist, endocrinologist, gynecologist,…

“My sister couldn’t have children…then she finally got pregnant.” Not helping. Just shot up and be quiet.

Now you’re thinking, “geez this is so difficult. I’d rather just stay away hoping that we don’t come across people who can’t have children” Yes, it is difficult and yes, that is why more often than not, we feel so alone. The stigma of infertility in this society is so potent (as it was in King Henry VIII's time), its no wonder we keep it to ourselves. I've had those super fertile women who are so patronizing in their tones as though being infertile means being inferior to them. Thank god I don't think that. No, the most difficult part of it all is that infertility is a type of loss that is never really recognized. When someone dies, we have funerals to mourn the loss. When couples get a divorce, there’s a document that separates their properties, a document that finalizes their marriage. “Many significant beginnings and ending in our lives are marked by rituals that publicly mark the transition and invite the support- either in celebration or in mourning – of others.” Said Patricia Irwin Johnson in Adopting after Intertility. What about infertility? At what point do we mourn? What marks this loss, end of hope, end of dream, end of a desire, end of something I can't quite quantify? What’s worse for us is that we have Sam. So technically, we can’t even claim to be one of them, infertile. 

But take heart, that is why I’m writing this.