Silly Me

Silly me, I heard the word infertility once, but like a naive preteen, I thought that I was immune from all of the potential circumstances that life might allow. “It’ll just happen to someone else, I thought.”

“Everyone that wants a baby can get a baby,” I thought. That’s what health class taught me. I’m just going to put off sex long enough until I am ready for a child. Then, BAM, it’s going to happen. That’s what Mr. Montgomery said in health class. Not getting pregnant is more difficult that making a baby, he taught. Silly me.

“I told them to just relax.” Silly me. First, there is no relaxing in infertility and second, if just relaxing was the answer, I would have figured the whole relaxing thing out. Years ago, I didn’t know any better. I just new formulaic answers to give, that took no emotion on my end to conjure up. Silly me.

I bought into the notion that once the stick reads PREGNANT, that I’m going to have a baby. It wasn’t even week six and I had given the baby a nickname, Pinterested nursery ideas and told a few too many people. By week eight, my baby was gone. Silly me. I should have known that one in four pregnancies don’t survive.

I thought that I would still fit in social circles. I thought people would know what to ask, when to show up and how to stand with me in the biggest challenge of my life. I should just hide. I should just give everybody a break. After all, they’re probably right. My story doesn’t matter. They and their pregnant bellies and midnight feedings matter. My pain doens’t. Silly me.

I have started hating my body and resenting the damages that interfere with my dreams. I have body shamed myself enough times to count and have listened to all the damaging lies that women tell themselves about not being enough or not measuring up. All the women are better than me, I thought. Silly me.

I should’ve known that life could get difficult. It isn’t all smooth sailing once you meet Prince Charming, like all the Rom Com’s tell you. Seasoned spouses tell you that marriage is a job. That description pails in comparison to marriage in the trenches of infertility. Now that’s work.

Silly you, thinking that you’re not brave enough, strong enough or woman enough.

Silly you, for silently nodding along, believing the lie that life will never be okay again.

Silly you, who reads this under the covers, feeling like if you go into further into the day, that it will just hurt too, too bad. It’s okay to get up.

Silly you, for questioning your femininity. You know more about femininity than fertile people. Yours has been examed, challenged and explored. You are woman, now ROAR!

Girlfriend, sure you have listened to some lies along the way. Learned some tough lessons. Fought some hard fights. Gained a diagnosis or lost an organ. Relinquished the responsibility for knocking you up to your doctor rather than your partner.

That’s the season. Get up, fix your crown, look in the mirror and tell yourself that you’re enough and keep walking.

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Cathie Quillet, LMFT

Cathie Quillet, LMFT

Founder of The Quillet Institute
Infertility and Pregnancy Loss Therapist
Mom to Four Miscarried Babies

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