Originally published at Coming 2 Terms by Pamela Jeanne

Sometimes I’m asked why we stopped pursuing infertility treatment. For
those looking for easy answers you won’t find them here. There was no
epiphany, no dramatic denouement. We were not driven there by a
deadline or a master plan or even an entirely drained bank account.
(Even today, resisting the ever-beckoning siren song of the fertility
industry’s latest advancements has not been particularly easy.)

Our
move away from treatment was a long, slow often circuitous process that
sometimes led us back like a junkie in need of a fix to the
reproductive endocrinology clinic for one more attempt. A little voice
in my head kept egging me on (no pun intended): just one more IUI; one
more round of acupuncture; one more laparoscopy; one more blood test to
determine if there’s a new factor we hadn’t considered or addressed –
all the while the doctors scratched their heads with no clear
explanation for our infertility, dampening our hopes further that we’d
ever succeed.

Strung-out and wondering how we would possibly
cope with another failed cycle, I started to allow myself to imagine a
life not driven by 28-day cycles and endless associated vigils. With
the benefit of lots of exhaustive and exhausting conversations,
and after consuming huge amounts of reading material on coping with
infertility, my husband and I finally began to loosen the tight grip we
had on our increasingly fragile dream.

As I look back on that
difficult period, there were many emotional and practical
considerations that led to our acknowledging that it was time for us to
find a way to move on. We had seen other people go through double or
more the number of IVF rounds without success. We weren’t getting any
younger.

But perhaps the greatest  consideration was the
realization that the heartbreak of losing more IVF “offspring” was just
too much to bear — especially when the rest of the world (minus my
immediate family and a handful of close friends) didn’t recognize our
loss or offer any of the copious support reserved for “legitimate”
grief.

To any parent reading this post, imagine burying your
children and all the dreams you had for them all the while the world
continues on around you completely oblivious to your grieving or
emotional difficulty. Not a pretty picture is it?

In the wake of
hopeful signs that my ovaries were pumping out eggs, learning those
eggs were successfully fertilizing, that beautiful embryos were
growing, we allowed ourselves to dream, and I mean dream BIG about
finally holding our own child in our arms only to have that dream
shattered. When our new (and last) RE was busy lining us up in his
queue for yet another IVF round, it became evident to my husband and me
that facing the excruciating emotional pain associated with the loss of
another set of embryos would actually be harder to manage than the idea that our family might only number two. We canceled the IVF procedure.

Until
recently I did a good job of suppressing my grief. I realize now (some
78 posts later) that it’s far healthier to address it. Some days are
clearly easier than others.  I jealously guard the memories of our
plans for the future and what might have been, the sacrifices my
husband and I made in pursuit of those plans. I cherish the closeness
we share as a result of the trials we’ve faced together.

And
still I bristle — okay, become downright apoplectic — when I hear
ignorant people diminish the pain of infertility, primary infertility
in particular.  If you really want to see me get unglued, watch what
happens when new acquaintances or strangers say things like: “Aren’t
you glad you never had the hassle of raising kids, it’s so expensive!”
or “See? it’s not so bad that you didn’t have kids, look at all the
travel or shopping you get to do!” or “I’m so jealous of your freedom
– must be nice not to have all the responsibility of kids.”

Must be nice not to
have to contemplate the alternative is what I want to say in return,
especially when they’re basking in the adoration or pride of their
children.

Why the sharpened tone you wonder? This is the
anniversary of my first IVF egg harvest. It was once a day of great
promise. That’s something I know I’ll never forget.

Editor’s Pick by Marcie from My Two Boys: At 29 Pamela learned she might have some infertility issues. On and off for
the next 11 years she tried both conventional and unconventional methods
to conceive. Clomid, IUI, ICSI IVF (several
times), acupuncture, yoga for fertility, raspberry tea, chiropractic
adjustments, Chinese herbs, fertility herbal blends. Diet changes.
Lighting candles. You name it, she tried it. When it became
evident that no amount of effort would produce a baby, she husband and her
reluctantly got off the infertility treatment roller coaster.

This post was the story of how she came to terms with knowing they were done…I found the post and the blog through my Google feeds and immediately became hooked. As a woman who struggles with infertility grief myself I know how difficult it is to move forward. You can read more of Pamela’s story on her blog, Coming 2 Terms or in the article by New York Times Author, Karen Barrow.