Friday, October 12, 2012

Is it possible to have a voice and not a face?

I've been stewing lately.  Trying to figure some things out.  And generally, I've been a grump.  I'm not sure I can even entirely put into words why.  Mostly it's been about feeling like I have to give to all of these other people before I can give to myself and my family.  That wears me down.  That unrelenting sense of obligation coming from all corners of the world.  But that's not what's on my mind right now.

Besides all that, I've been angry lately.  Really angry at infertility in a way that I haven't been in a long time.  Not for myself.  I actually have been kind of thankful for my own infertility in a way, as sick as that sounds.  I don't know if you remember but I wrote awhile back about dear friends of ours that we visited this summer and discovered were in the thick of their own infertility battle.  It broke my heart then and continues to now.  I've been talking with them a lot lately and it's the first time I've really experienced infertility from the outside in such a personal way, because it's someone we know so well.  I've been trying to do whatever I can to make this easier for them, although I know that's impossible.  That's why I've been thankful for my own experience.  I feel like it's helped me so much as I try to be there for them while they go through this.  Mostly I know enough to just try to listen.  But seeing them hurting, I know that hurt.  And I would do anything to take it away from them.  And it makes me MAD.  Mad that infertility hurts so many people, that the general public is so bad at figuring out how to be thoughtful or considerate to us, that politicians think they have some kind of right to tell us how to make our dreams of family a reality, and that money is such a huge factor in all of it.

It makes me feel like I've been sitting around doing nothing since Bean was born.  Like somehow I should have been doing something to make a change so that magically in the last two years I could have made it different for our friends.  For anyone.  And what crushes and motivates me the most is thinking ahead for Bean.  PCOS is a hereditary condition and when I think about the idea of her going through what we went through if she wants to have a family, it's just more then I can handle.  I want her reality to be different, but if she has to face the same things that we faced, I want it to be easier for her.  I want her to have more opportunities and less worries.

My problem is that I just don't know where to start, and I've realized through this blog that I have worries about talking about everything publicly.  I don't have a problem talking at all about our experience, but I have a hard time talking about other peoples interactions with out situation.  Some of the most hurtful reactions or things that were said to us where from friends and family.  Hubby and I both have tried to address that to some degree and it's without much success.  It's actually led to some major problems within our families and outside relationships.  So the problem that I've been struggling with is how can I find my footing to try and make a change in the world at large as it relates to infertility, if I don't feel like I can speak honestly about it without hiding behind anonymity.  Even in this space where I am anonymous, I still guard myself.  There are so many things I've wanted to write about lately but I worry so much that if either of our families found this space and realized it was me (unlikely I know), that those relationships would get really difficult.

So I'm struggling wondering if it is possible to have a voice and make change without throwing yourself into the fire.  More so though, I'm wondering how much I care.  The people in our families and closest to us should want change in the world of infertility.  If they care at all about us, they should support us and allow us to be vocal about all of it.  I just know that the dream of that and the reality are different.  So where do I draw the line?  Is it more important for me to be vocal, visual, and forge ahead to hopefully make change for Bean, or to worry about trying to keep peace.  I know the answer in my heart and even in my head, but I also know the reality of it all and that it's not as easy as it sound.  And that makes me angry too.  So I'm in a weird place right now.  Happy as can be with my little family and mad as hell at the world in the same moment and trying to figure out where to go from here.