When we hit the one year mark in our journey of attempting to grow our family, I started really thinking that something might be wrong. Of course, during that time I had done a lot of reading on conception and pregnancy, and I knew that, at my age, after a year of trying with no success, it might be time to seek help. So we did. We set up an appointment with a doctor. Going to that appointment may have, especially at that time, ranked as one of the most humiliating moments of my life...
The doctor asked how long we had been trying, and I told him it had been about a year. He laughed. He told us that it was a simple process and that we were stressing too much. If we just relaxed about it, it would just happen. He also told us that we were really young anyway and had plenty of time to have children. I was so embarrassed. I had really put myself out there. This was such an emotional thing for me. I wanted so badly to be a mom... And not only to be a mom, but to have multiple children. I was already insecure about the fact that I wasn't able to get pregnant and that I was young, and he made me feel even worse about both.
I just kept thinking, "people get pregnant, by accident, all the time! Why is this so hard for me? People talk like its a simple process, but apparently it isn't as simple as people make it sound." Who ever thought of telling people, "if you just stop thinking about it so much, then it will happen"? What silly advice.
When we left that appointment, I wept. I vowed that I would never tell anyone that I was having trouble conceiving. I forced smiles and sarcasm when confronted with questions about babies. I wasn't going to give someone the opportunity to laugh away my deepest hurt again. Was my pain so laughable to people? Was I sad about something so pathetic? I started feeling like so much was wrong with me. I quickly became ashamed of my feelings, of my situation, and especially of my body.
I felt like for so much of my life I was laughed at. People treated my emotions with laughter and teasing. This experience drove me further inward, making me never want to tell anyone my deepest fears, desires, and hurts ever again. When baring your heart results in laughter or teasing, it becomes a very undesirable task. That is what happened to me over the years, especially during this chapter of my life.
I just kept thinking, "people get pregnant, by accident, all the time! Why is this so hard for me? People talk like its a simple process, but apparently it isn't as simple as people make it sound." Who ever thought of telling people, "if you just stop thinking about it so much, then it will happen"? What silly advice.
When we left that appointment, I wept. I vowed that I would never tell anyone that I was having trouble conceiving. I forced smiles and sarcasm when confronted with questions about babies. I wasn't going to give someone the opportunity to laugh away my deepest hurt again. Was my pain so laughable to people? Was I sad about something so pathetic? I started feeling like so much was wrong with me. I quickly became ashamed of my feelings, of my situation, and especially of my body.
I felt like for so much of my life I was laughed at. People treated my emotions with laughter and teasing. This experience drove me further inward, making me never want to tell anyone my deepest fears, desires, and hurts ever again. When baring your heart results in laughter or teasing, it becomes a very undesirable task. That is what happened to me over the years, especially during this chapter of my life.
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