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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/1591648-The-Empty-Cradle
by Riot
Rated: 18+ · Book · Personal · #1591648
My personal journal on the road of infertility and trying to conceive.
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For a fellow Endometriosis survivor.  Only those of us that have been through it truly understand the severity and how much it has cost us.


Part of coping with infertility is overcoming the isolation. It is important for me to build bridges and stay positive. I created this journal so that I could express myself and be heard, but also to provide myself a road map and reminder of all the things I have done. This journal gives me permission to cry, be angry, happy, optimistic, pessimistic - anything I need to cope - while opening up communication on a very sensitive issue for me.



Our Infertility Story
My husband and I have been together since October 3, 2001. In late 2004 we decided we wanted to have a family.

On August 9, 2005, I underwent surgery to repair my damaged fallopian tubes from years of undiagnosed Endometriosis. They discovered other issues, but the scariest part was my organs were sticking together. Coupled with that and a thyroid imbalance, it was difficult to conceive.

Two years later, in 2007, I miscarried with our first pregnancy.

I have undergone countless fertility treatments, including I.U.I.'s. I experienced two pregnancies through I.U.I. in early 2010, but miscarried.


"Normal" emotional and physical responses to coping with infertility and medications
Crying
Lashing Out
Remorse
Jealousy
Yearning
Depression
Mood Swings
Self Blame
Fatigue
Restlessness
Anxiety
Tremors
Nausea
Worry
Insomnia



My poems about infertility:

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March 19, 2011 at 10:42pm
March 19, 2011 at 10:42pm
#720129
I was scrubbing away at my dishes today while listening to some children play in the fleeting sunshine. As I was cleaning the crust out of a dish that was long overdue for a clean, I was in my own little head at their chattering.

I decided to take a pit stop out on my deck and soak up the sunshine. The rays felt nice on my skin. It reminded me of that comfortable warmth that toast gets once it has stopped being scorching hot from the toaster.

Then I noticed one of the younger children. He wasn't part of the 'gang' of children that were gathered in the embankment. A moment later, he was being the target of bullying. When he hit the ground he just stayed down. I couldn't believe it. They weren't physically hurting him per-say, but the more dominant child of the group had goaded him down.

I did something that I perhaps shouldn't have. I shouted down from my private patio.

"Hey, knock it off!"

They looked at me as though I was a voice from above. I guess I was in a way. One of the bullies spotted me and smirked. I made another remark I regret.

"Don't you smirk at me. I won't tolerate bullying around here. Go find something else to do!"

So they started to leave. One of the parents, or so I assume, was nearby and gave me a filthy look. I gave her one right back. Just as I thought my blood pressure was going to rupture a vein in my head, I saw the little guy get up and smile at me.

Then all was well again.


Yeah, I think I'd be a good Mom.

© Copyright 2013 Riot (UN: riot at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/1591648-The-Empty-Cradle