Taking Back the Power by Jolene Boyko (Fall 2011)
Printer-friendly versionTAKING BACK THE POWER
by Jolene Boyko
I can easily recall the moment infertility took over my life. Before then, it was just a word, and a concept I knew little about. But as my husband and I kept trying to conceive with no success, infertility began to rear its ugly head. In the beginning it was nothing more than a whisper – a grey cloud looming that would surely pass. So I thought. I didn’t understand the true meaning, complexity, endlessness, and ultimately the power that one Word held.
I will always remember the day that Word finally came out. The day it came out of my doctor’s mouth like a dirty curse word. The day it jumped out at me from the lab form as if written in BIG BOLD letters. The day reality knocked me off my feet.
I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. Me, whose soul oozed of maternal instincts. Me, who’d spent more than half my life caring for other people’s children. Me, who believed wholeheartedly that my place in this world was as a mother. Why me?
Infertility quickly invaded my every thought and made it impossible to concentrate on anything else. Insomnia was a constant companion. My brain was so full I was barely able to function. Small day-to-day tasks and decisions became too much to handle. I wanted the whole world to stop long enough for me to catch my breath, sort through the chaos in my head, and attend to the pain in my heart.
Soon, nothing was more important than surviving the torment and plotting how to fix what I quickly learned was beyond my control. While those around me were moving on with their lives, I remained stuck in an overwhelmingly painful place. Only months later did I realize I was experiencing the greatest loss of my life: an unfulfilled dream, the absence of a longed for experience, the complete collapse of a carefully designed plan I’d spent my whole life building. Although I couldn’t stop my world from spinning, I finally allowed myself the time to grieve, not yet aware that there would be an abundance of losses to come on a path that had only just begun.
I had no idea what to expect and no warning that I was about to climb the steepest mountain of my life. I slowly discovered the countless doctor’s visits, invasive tests, drugs and procedures, insensitive comments and the very emotional roller coaster ride on which we had embarked. I was unaware of the endless waiting, the physical, emotional, and financial distress that infertility causes. I was naïve to the fact that this would affect nearly every aspect of my life. My future, my career, my relationships, my hobbies, my social life, my SELF – all swept away by one powerful Word. The heartache, frustration, depression and utter helplessness were indeed overwhelming, yet only a small part of the infertile package.
Infertility had strong adverse effects on my relationships. Many suffered. Some completely drifted away, the cause of my distance unknown to everyone except me. Advice and words of intended comfort only added to my frustration. I soon realized the feelings I was experiencing could not be understood by anyone other than those who had experienced it first hand. Socializing became a painful chore. The majority of my friends had children or were pregnant, and activities and conversation always lead to kids. Birthday parties, family dinners, and baby showers soon became events best to avoid.
My career was greatly affected, not only by my lack of concentration and the numerous interruptions to my schedule, but also due to the nature of my work. In that I worked closely with young children and their families, going to work became a constant reminder of what I longed for but now worried I may never have. Being surrounded by children, moms, and pregnant co-workers on a daily basis was nearly impossible to face. Walking through the doors everyday began to feel more like walking into a battlefield. My protective shield of armor was always up.
I no longer had the energy or interest for the hobbies I once loved, and I even worried that they were detrimental to my pregnancy attempts. I constantly thought about what my body was doing on what cycle day and what I should or shouldn’t be doing. What if I bounced the wrong way at the gym and prevented an embryo from implanting? Infertility ate up all my energy, I was not sleeping well, and every spare moment was spent researching how to make my problem disappear; the result was total exhaustion, both emotionally and physically.
After several months, I desperately needed to make a change. There was no indication of how long I’d be on this twisted road; no crystal ball to foresee my future; no telling how long I’d feel this empty hole in my heart, which, no matter how desperately I tried, I could not fill. Eventually I realized that, although I didn’t have the power to change my infertility, I could change its power over me. I needed to find meaning, something positive, some way to keep hope alive yet simultaneously surrender to my current situation.
It all started with one small step. Through the Infertility Awareness Association of Canada I found a wonderful support group. Having people to talk to who completely understood what I was going through was the only thing that gave me comfort. There was no judgment or shame, only acceptance, encouragement, and compassion. They were always there for me. These women became my friends, my heroes, and my sanity – a sisterhood bound by our common struggle to become mothers. By reaching out, I no longer felt alone.
As I became a student of infertility, society’s lack of awareness and the myths surrounding it became even more evident. It was hurtful and frustrating to hear the insensitive comments from people who knew little about it. Most frustrating perhaps was the consensus that infertility was a psychological problem when in fact it is a medical one. Hiding in silence will not undo the unjust stigma and myths, but speaking out will help. I can imagine what it could be like one day if we all worked together so no one felt they had to suffer in silence, and what an essential difference it would make to countless people.
Three years later, my journey continues. To endure the pain and persevere is a challenge. There are still days the sight of a pregnant woman may bring tears to my eyes, days that the touch of an infant is too much for my broken heart to bear, days I want to scream at the world, and days I loathe my body for betraying me month, after month, after month. But over time I have grown stronger. And now, there are also days when I can be thankful and recognize all that infertility has brought me Although it’s taken so much away, it’s also given me much in return: knowledge, friendship, strength, compassion, determination, and opportunity. In despair there is triumph, but I had to be willing to search long and hard for it, uncover each and every stone until I found the hidden gems.
For now, I hold on to hope. Hope not only for motherhood, but also to use these powerful emotions within me to make a difference. I hope to take this devastating loss and use it to do amazing things not only in my life, but also in the lives of others. I don’t know what these things will be yet, but I know there is meaning in my struggle.
Though infertility has changed almost everything in my life, there are some things it will never change. Having a family is still my dream and being a mother is still what I want to be. Infertility will not take that away; not because it can’t, but because I won't allow it to.
I have taken back my power.