Wednesday, September 30, 2009

"No Swimming for You!"

(Fall, 1998) -- In my last post, I used a seemingly innocuous phrase. I barely noticed when I typed it, and you might not have noticed when you read it. But it kept me up at night:

"all donor material"

Three little words that slammed shut the door. With these, the tomb is sealed, the womb forever barren.

Even though I've been processing infertility for years now, the finality whacks me in the solar plexus. We. Will. Not. Ever. Ever....the thought is unfinishable.

But it keeps poking out, while I work, while I walk, while I sleep and eat.
You'll never see your green eyes in your child.
You'll never know what you and Roger would be like mixed together.
and the sing-song taunt from the cruelest part of my psyche:
You don't get to swim in the gene pool.
And everybody else does.
Neener, neener, neener!

This part really pisses me off. Damn Charles Darwin and his stupid theory. Damn the deity who decided we were not among the fittest, deserving to procreate and propagate our genetic material, which, since we had chosen each other over all others, we thought was pretty superior.
Or at least on par with that woman at Target who had five kids under 10, all equally ignored by her. On par with this woman who finally yelled and swatted at each of them when she could pull herself away from her cell phone conversation about her "loser boyfriend" (her words, not mine). I'm sure everyone who has struggled with IF has a similar Target experience -- THAT person is more worthy of splashing around in the gene pool than I???.
So being intelligent and hardworking doesn't count. Being otherwise healthy and health-conscious doesn't count. Having healthy parents and fertile siblings doesn't count. Living ethically and having faith and rolling with the punches and loving each other steadfastly and offering sacrifices (small vices, not small animals) and visiting shrines of the world...all this crap doesn't matter to the objective RE who mutters these words, "You could try with all donor material."

Nothing.

Nothing.

We. Can. Not. Have. Biological. Children.

In a way, we are lucky. Our choices are black and white.

We mourn anew as we contemplate what options remain.

1 comment:

My name is Andy. said...

{{{{{{HUGS}}}}}}}

I was processing these very same thoughts last night. It suddenly hit me that I'm the end of my line. My genes will not be passed on to anyone. No one will say "well Mom/Grandma/Auntie had such and such so that is where I get it from"

I moved away from these dark thoughts by listing all the great things I CAN pass on: my love of food and board games, my joy of music and musicals, my sense of humour etc...

It's not an easy thing to come to terms with is it?