Tiny Gramma told me one night a few months ago while I was sobbing into the phone “I don’t know why I was a rabbit and you ended up a panda.”

If you’ve ever watched Planet Earth (which if you haven’t you have no business being on any sort of technology whatsoever) you’ll know that pandas are like the worlds most unluckiest pro-creators despite being devastatingly cute. (Much like me in both respects.) Why can’t cicadas or sloths have crappy odds at procreating? Because I’ve seen sloths and I’ve seen cicadas and trust me the world needs no more of either.

In the passion and fury of my post yesterday where I segued into the whole infertility thing without meaning to I didn’t really acknowledge that I live in two different infertile worlds.

One is online. Where people understand. People get it. People talk about it. And the people who end up pregnant understand how much it means to me when they take the time to tell me before it hits the twitter fan. For those of you who have done that for me? A thousand fuzzy kisses (uh, yeah. I need to pluck a little more.)

The other world is what surrounds me on a daily basis. I am a member of a church that pretty much puts Catholics to shame when it comes to multiplying and replenishing the Earth, especially when we have the option of using birth control. (And no, we’re not told to make dozens of babies. Families are just really really important to us, so a lot of LDS people choose to have a lot of babies before they turn thirty. Personal choice. Not religious decree.)

I have watched…wait for it…over 60 pregnancies in the last three years since moving to Indiana. These are just people that live by me.

In the past week I have had three pregnancies made known to me from people that are in my congregation. That is not counting the previous two that already existed or the other two that just completed their nine month run. I have watched at least a dozen women be pregnant twice since living here and just this week I have now seen someone pregnant three different times within three years. After some of your confessions yesterday I don’t feel so creepy that I’ve kept count.

Outside the stereotypes of my religion I am abnormal. I was married just after my 18th birthday (and am enjoying it immensely thank you very much,) had a child at 22 and sometimes desperately want another before I turn 30.

Inside the stereotypes of my religion I am abnormal. I have been married for eight years and yet I only have one child.

My mom didn’t even have me until she was 32.

I find myself wondering so often “Why am I so worried about this? Is it because I can’t? Is it because the people around me are procreating at breakneck speed? I’m only 27 followed closely by OHMYGOSHIAMALMOSTTHIRTY.”

I’m very conflicted about being stuck between the “normalities” of these two very different worlds. I’d like to just be comfortable in my own little world. But there’s not enough medication for me to do that just yet.

Two of my closest friends are having babies before July is over. I have received news of other pregnancies of Internet/IRL friends as well, all of them giving me hope that one day it will happen for me. And for their miracles I can’t thank Heavenly Father enough for answering the prayers I’ve poured out in their behalf.

Sometimes my happiness for others is diminished by the irresponsibility, disrespect or overwhelmingness of it all.

(Which BTW? Dr. SallyForth? My old OB had the option of different appointment availability for infertility patients so I never had to enter his office face to belly with a room full of unwed pregnant teenagers. You *may* want to look into that.)

God doesn’t need/want me pregnant right now. For whatever reason. Today I’m okay with this. Tomorrow could be different.

But no matter what? If you have a little floater down there in your uterus? I want to know about it. And I want to know how I can help.

I just hope you can understand that some days are better than others.

I’m learning how to deal with this.

And sometimes it’s just very very confusing.

panda

Please don’t take the panda personally.

Comments

  1. I am exactly where you are right now. I have secondary infertility (had my daughter easily) and have been undergoing fertility treatments for a number of months now. Unsuccessfully. I am surrounded by pregnant women. On Wednesday, our receptionist’s 20 year old unmarried daughter had her second in less than 2 years. When her mom was complaining about it, I was tempted to ask her to leave my office and shut the door behind her. The infertility journey is a unique kind of heartache.

  2. My heart goes out to you. As the panda produced from rabbits, I understand so well. And why do people assume super-fertility runs in the family? “Your mom had lots of kids, why don’t you?” Um, maybe because I’m not her. I’ve had a long bitter struggle with infertility and other illness and sometimes don’t think I have the strength to even start infertility treatment. Because of one thing or another we have put that off for years.

    I seem to be fairly ok around friends, its family I sometimes can’t deal with. All the unintentional rude questions and comments seem to hurt more. And having no one IRL who actually understands makes me feel completely isolated at times.

    My only pregnancy was a complete shock, we were told we needed IUI. We never got to meet our precious daughter, she would have been born only a couple of weeks ago.

    I know there are no words that can offer comfort but my prayers are with you.

  3. currently, i am (once again) the last one in my ward to not be pregnant.

    my daughter is the youngest of a series of close to 20 babies born in succession to our little ward.

    the births have begun again and i’ve been doing treatments for six months. one miscarriage already (second thus far) and no successful pregnancies. i’m 2 & 0 dude. the only reason we have a child is because someone else fell into the rabbit category when she wasn’t ready to be a mom. love her to pieces but i’d like to borrow her working ovmaries sometime. please?

    hurts. man it hurts.

    i’m so making an “i’m a panda” button.

  4. Can I tell you how much I understand this. I was married at 21 divorced by 26 still single at 28 and struggle all the time with pregnancies around me and births. Honestly it sucks. I am happy for my friends and family but so sad for me. I want nothing more than a family, but I want it with the right person. I know I am only 28 but it still stinks. I just want to get married again to the right man and have lots of babies. I just hope that the time comes.

  5. *hugs* You rock. And I love you. And stuff. <3

    Elizabeth Kaylene Reply:

    And okay, I’ll admit it. I’m not even 21 yet, and not married. So I know that it would be CRAZY to have a baby right now.

    But.

    Sometimes, when I take a look at all of my friends with their one or two children, and the girls I know who are pregnant… Sometimes, I get this insane biological clock tick started and I feel absolutely nuts for even feeling the slightest bit jealous.

    I know that one day I’ll have a family and that I just need to be patient, because it’ll happen when I’m ready and blah blah blah, but still.

    And now that that’s out of the way. I’m never admitting that again.

  6. I’m a new reader of your blog and I had to comment on this post. I had my first child last year. The pregnancy was an absolute nightmare and included ruptured ear drums and veins in the eye (leaving me half-blind for 6 weeks), constant barfing, and being induced at 33 weeks because my blood pressure was OVER stroke-out levels. Despite this, I still wanted another baby.

    This year we discovered that the pregnancy tore a hole in my heart, and not only will I be on blood pressure medication for the rest of my life (I am 22), if I get pregnant again I have a 70-80% chance of dying. So I was sterilized, except we just found out the procedure didn’t work and now I’m not sure what we’ll do.

    As a Mormon, I totally, totally understand what you are going through re: 1 child. I haven’t gotten any comments yet, but I know they are coming. Add to this the fact that 9 out of my 10 friends are pregnant with their first (and in some cases second), and it’s like a new kind of torture.

    I just wanted to say that you are not alone. I know you know that, but I guess I wanted to reassure myself too. If I could somehow mail my rabbit-ness to you, I would in a heartbeat. Good luck with the moosh 2.0 project, I’ll keep my ovaries crossed for you ;)

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