INFRTL 4-EVAH?

One of my commenters asked me a question that I find pretty interesting: How can I call myself infertile when I'm pregnant?

This is something that I have thought about: am I still infertile? Does getting pregnant mean you are instantly not infertile? And if so, then what are you? Fertile? Sub-fertile? Quasi-fertile?

Would it be different if I had gotten pregnant, say, on one of my many IVF or IUI cycles? Would I still be infertile (requiring medical intervention to get pregnant) or would that count, too?

Or am I in "remission"? An "infertility survivor" but not technically infertile?

I don't know. Despite being pregnant, I still feel infertile. If you count the definition of infertile as anything worthwhile, I believe it's defined (yes, I'm too lazy to look it up) as the inability to get pregnant after one year of trying, or six months if you're over 35. I fit both of those. I lived with infertility for six years, and after a while, it began to define me. Everything I did or said or thought was colored through the murky lens of infertility--I wrote about it incessantly, thought about it, fought about it, lost friends over it, gained friends over it, grew because of it. Parts of me withered and grew dark. In essence, I became someone else. Infertility was the only thing I felt I did well. It was like an extra limb, constantly growing and sprouting new pieces--some bad, a few, surprisingly, good.

I can't make that go away. My husband and I were married by a priest who had left the priesthood to marry a nun. I made a comment about how he wasn't really a priest, and he looked at me gravely and told me in no uncertain terms that he had taken a vow and would always remain a priest, even if no one else recognized him as such.

I guess I feel like I've taken that vow. My pregnancy does not erase what I went through. I wouldn't presume to jump on an infertility board and post, nor would I title my blog "Cheek: Still Infertile After All These Years!", but if someone wants to talk about infertility and I happen to be around, I do think I've got something to contribute. But I know how it is. A few years ago I wouldn't have wanted pregnant me around, infertility or not. I always considered those who got pregnant who we had identified as infertile "infertile but currently pregnant." And really, really lucky. But the "currently pregnant" part, that was tough--even though I was thrilled for them, I didn't want to be around them, infertility or not. So I suppose I'd stick myself in some kind of limbo--not exclusively fertile, not exclusively infertile. 

And I guess you can, technically, "cure" infertility--I've heard stories of women who were infertile for years only to have five kids in quick succession. From infertility to super fertility. I know women and men who have gotten operations and "cured" their infertility. It's possible, I suppose, that after I have Rocky I could get pregnant again and again, although both Random and I are thinking 2 is a nice even number. I think even if that happened I'd still carry infertility around with me, even if I didn't outwardly identify myself as such. At this point, it's in my blood. And I'm still not convined that pregnancy "cures" infertility.

People have written before about infertility and whether it's more a state of mind or a medical condition. If I had never tried to get pregnant, I wouldn't know that I was infertile for six or so years, and it wouldn't be an issue. But I think it depends on the individual experience, in the end. Who knows why I got pregnant? We were in the midst of an incredibly stressful time, I had a concussion, it was a five minute romp, we had moved into a new house two days earlier. We didn't do anything different. I see it as a stroke of good luck--we just hit a magic combination that no one had been able to replicate before then.

I'm curious as to what the rest of you think, and a big thanks to the reader who brought this up--it's a question I've asked myself, too, and obviously struggled with in writing that last post. So--once infertile, always infertile? What's your experience, what are your thoughts?   

Comments

[Jenn (dish)]

I have a feeling this is one of those "choose your own adventure" types of questions. And I have tried to answer it for myself many, many times. After three years of trying, a single round of IVF landed us a successful pregnancy and a beautiful boy. Did I still consider myself infertile? Yes. Because, in my mind, requiring medical intervention to achieve pregnancy fit the definition. Cue pregnancy #2 that arrived unplanned (but very welcome) and surprised the socks off of us. Was I still infertile? A former infertile? To be honest, I still have no idea. But when they did the c-section to deliver our little girl, I went ahead and had a ligation done, just in case I was "cured." So, I guess I felt like enough of a fertile to know that from here on out I needed more than just a flippant, "birth control? We're infertile and don't need no stinkin' birth control," as a method to save my sanity (read: have only two kids).

[brenna]

I haven't personally experienced infertility, so I don't know if my opinion matters, but I would think it's like alcoholism. Even if you don't drink anymore, you're still an alcoholic. And I really hope that isn't an offensive analogy.

[Milenka]

I still feel the pain of Infertility, but I flounder when asked how I define it. I tried to conceive for nearly 6 years between April 2000 and March 2006. In that time, I had 8 early pregnancy losses and an adoption that failed less than 3 weeks before the baby was born. I couldn't think of anything but the pain and loss. Then, somehow, I managed to not only get knocked up a 9th time (with twins even) but I *stayed* that way for 36 weeks. My gorgeous and healthy daughters are pretending to nap as we speak, and I still cannot believe that it works and they're here and I finally made it. Like Jenn (dish) above, I completely believed myself to still require much assistance to get and remain pregnant even after giving birth. Except now I'm nearly 13 weeks with a complete shock and perhaps am not as broken as I once was. Somehow i feel as though I have betrayed my Infertile peers the same way I felt I had betrayed my overweight peers when I lost 155 pounds. I don't feel like I fit in with anyone anymore, but being an outcast seems a small price to pay for the joy my children bring our family. Just my opinion, and I don't expect that anyone feels exactly the same way as anyone else. :-)

[Eva]

It took me several years to become pregnant, and the underlying condition that was the cause, PCOS, well, I still have that, though now it's being treated with medication. And now I'm not trying to become pregnant. But like you said, I still think of myself as infertile. My years dealing with that changed me, and marked me--I don't take successful conception or pregnancies or anything like that for granted or lightly like my fertile friends do, never giving a thought to miscarriage etc. My mindset is different now and forever. Even if I become pregnant more quickly again if we try again, I won't think of myself as fertile suddenly; rather, under successful treatment for infertility. And sometimes the treatment for infertility seems to be time and luck. Some need more of both.

[Haley]

Well, I'm not infertile. Or rather, I haven't yet tried to get pregnant, so maybe I am, I don't know. But your post struck a chord with me. About a month ago I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and had a complete thyroidectomy. The cancer was contained to a smallish tumor on my thyroid. No spread. Great news. The weird thing is I still find myself saying I HAVE, as opposed to HAD, cancer even though I was essentially "cured" (in the physical sense) surgically. I think there are a few reasons for feeling as though I am a "cancer patient" or still "have cancer." First, my surgery came a mere 10 days after diagnosis so I don't think I ever wrapped my mind around actually having cancer, before it was removed. Second, I still haven't undergone the follow-up treatment yet. And third, and probably most significant, I'm pretty effed up in the head right now from all of this. I think each person deals with these major life events/struggles/whatever you want to call them, in a different way. And when something has impacted your life so significantly, as infertility has for you, I don't think 6-ish months of pregnancy would ever erase the feelings, experiences, emotions, and lifestyle that you built up while you were TTC. I think each person, infertile, formerly infertile, whatever you want to call it, should be able to describe herself in whatever way feels right at the time, and maybe it will change, or not.

[Joy]

The heart infertility goes on forever, regardless of how many children one ends up with. I have hope that the heart infertility can become a healed scar just as I hope for the empty house to be filled. But those pregnant after unpregnancy are showing me that one does not heal the other, and so I must address each issue separately.

[Stephanie]

I went thru almost 5 years of secondary infertility after the stillbirth our our 2nd baby. I still feel that pain of SIF, and my heart just aches for those who are IN IF....It'll always be part of who I am, and why I am the way I am today, and I'll never ever not talk about it just because I do have living children NOW.
I think it's such a huge part of who I was/am, and now that we are "done", it's a real mindfuck (excuse my french) to *prevent* pregnancy after trying soooo desperately and longing soooo much for a living baby. The struggle NOW is to wrap my brain around all that I've been thru, embrace it, and somehow use it for the greater good!!!
Good luck to you on YOUR quest for answers/resolution and peace!

[Spinoff]

My analogy would be that I was a Peace Corps volunteer 30 years ago, but I still identify myself with that group. The vividness of the experience may not be as defining, but it's part of what made me who I am today.

[hydrogeek]

I think I'll just lurk in the comments on this one, as I'm trying to answer the same question for myself. (My daughter is 15 months old after 3 years of trying.)

[spacemom]

Interesting. To be honest, I consider myself as part of a couple that "went through" infertility. We tried for 2 years. Finally IUI+injections worked. Then for our second, we had that magic Poof after 4 months of ttc.

Whenever I hear someone ask about someone else getting pregnant, I do mention that Soleil was out IUI girl. That we've been there. That infertility is far more common that some think.

it stays with you, but I have put it in my past. Past, but not forgotten

[Sheila]

It's the journey, not the destination that matters the most. Where you've been and how you got to where you are now are essential. Of course your infertility and adoption journey have changed you and made you the person you are today. All those years of experience should not be "erased" by pregnancy now, or discounted by others.

To suggest that you are not "really" infertile is as painfully unfair as suggesting that somebody whose son or daughter died is not really a parent. Or that a retired teacher is not really a teacher... choose your own analogy.

I believe that in some ways a person who has been through a difficult experience and moved on, resolved it in some way, might have more wisdom to contribute than somebody who is struggling at this moment and discovering the challenges for the first time. When I encounter a challenging new situation, like infertility, pregnancy or parenting, or grief, I seek out people who are experiencing the same thing now, and also those who have gone through it in the past and have moved beyond. Both perspectives are very helpful.

[Marilyn]

I just want to give this post a great, big AMEN. I counted myself as infertile. It was "secondary" infertility, which somehow seems less in the grand scheme of thing, but we still tried for years upon heart-wrenching years to get pregnant. And then we did and then we had loss. So when I got pregnant by "surprise" this last summer, I didn't know what to think. What was my identity now?

So thanks for bringing this up. It's a tricky subject.

[Summer]

A quick reproductive history to start my comment: in 2001, got pregnant on second cycle of trying, lost the baby in the second trimester. Got pregnant again on the cycle following my first period after the loss. That baby's now five and in kindergarten, and I'm in my third year of trying unsuccessfully (no ART, though) to have another child.

In my life, I've felt like a Fertile Myrtle, but only briefly, before things went to shit with my first pregnancy. Then I felt myself to be Fertile But Unlucky; even after I had my son I felt like I had some right to belong in the sisterhood of those for whom motherhood was hard-fought. But now that I am infertile -- and you can't be anything but infertile if you have as much sex as I have had for the last three years without getting knocked up -- I still struggle a bit about whether I "deserve" to call myself infertile compared to women who've dealt with primary infertility. Medically, yes, I earned that diagnosis... but yet there's no reason that's been discovered for why I used to be able to conceive but now can't. There's no reason to think it might happen any month now, except that it keeps not happening. But mostly it feels wrong to think that I've earned the Infertility Merit Badge when I've already had the chance to be pregnant, when I've already passed on my genes, when I'm dealing with carpools and school uniforms.

I still feel unlucky, or more accurately, that I only got lucky once.

[Heather]

Well..you do ask the tough questions, don't you? It took us 3 years and 3 losses before we had our son. It wasn't easy to get pregnant or stay that way. 21 months after the birth of my son and I'm pregnant with our unplanned, but very welcome, 2nd child.

However, I do still consider myself infertile. I may not be such physically any more, but mentally part of me still lives in that space. The lessons I learned while TTC my son will never leave me- the compassion, the statistics, the knowledge to never ask a couple when they are having kids, etc. And while I think time has mellowed out my bitterness- I still am jealous when I hear couples tell how they planned to get pregnant in X month, so they could have their baby is Y month in order to plan around work/vacations, and *poof* it all worked out according to plan!

I guess what I'm saying is while I survived infertility, it left its mark on me and I'll never be the same person I was when we blissfully started TTC in 2003.

[Angela]

It took 22 months and infertility treatments to conceive the first time. After I developed thyroid symptoms after the birth, and got appropriate treatment, it only took 2 months and no fertility treatments to conceive. Same with the third pregnancy.

I don't consider myself "infertile" anymore, but the infertility experience changed me irrevocably.

[Alison]

De-lurking to add my two cents: I think, more than a diganosis, infertility (or being "infertile") is an identity that we assume after the heartbreaking struggle to do the one thing that seems so normal and nautural for everyone else. I think everyone assumes that the second we see two lines on pregnancy test, that infertility is "cured" and all those feelings go away - but anyone pregnant after infertility knows (with medical intervention or by surprise) that is furthest from the truth. Personally, I had to continue to deal with my emotions after getting pregnant with twins via my second IVF cycle. I had to get worse before I got better. I do think the infertile componet of our identity might start to fade after finally achieving our goal of having a child, but for me, it will never go away completely. And it's ok if non-infertile people don't understand that. I probably wouldn't either.

In your particular situation, I don't think the "shock factor" or "surprise element" of the unexpected pregnancy takes anything at all away from the identity of being infertile. What a GIFT for an infertile woman! And if we struggle after getting pregnant from infertility treatments, then I think we'd definitely struggle getting pregnant with no assistance. As far as your voice being heard in the IF blogging community - this is exactly what it's all about. Every perspective is unique and I truly appreciate you sharing your experiences and emotions.

Sorry for the rambling - my two cents turned out to be a five-dollar bill. :)

[Alison]

De-lurking to add my two cents: I think, more than a diganosis, infertility (or being "infertile") is an identity that we assume after the heartbreaking struggle to do the one thing that seems so normal and nautural for everyone else. I think everyone assumes that the second we see two lines on pregnancy test, that infertility is "cured" and all those feelings go away - but anyone pregnant after infertility knows (with medical intervention or by surprise) that is furthest from the truth. Personally, I had to continue to deal with my emotions after getting pregnant with twins via my second IVF cycle. I had to get worse before I got better. I do think the infertile componet of our identity might start to fade after finally achieving our goal of having a child, but for me, it will never go away completely. And it's ok if non-infertile people don't understand that. I probably wouldn't either.

In your particular situation, I don't think the "shock factor" or "surprise element" of the unexpected pregnancy takes anything at all away from the identity of being infertile. What a GIFT for an infertile woman! And if we struggle after getting pregnant from infertility treatments, then I think we'd definitely struggle getting pregnant with no assistance. As far as your voice being heard in the IF blogging community - this is exactly what it's all about. Every perspective is unique and I truly appreciate you sharing your experiences and emotions.

Sorry for the rambling - my two cents turned out to be a five-dollar bill. :)

[Alison]

Make that a $10 - sorry for the double comment!

[wkn]

I will always consider myself an infertile, even though I'm no longer TTC and I have given birth to one living child and adopted another. It is deeply ingrained in my psyche. I think even if I were to conceive now, without assistance or trying even, I would still feel this way.

[Jenn]

I always classify myself as a recovering infertile. Although that may have to change. I've had my boys (IVF) but failed for a year to get pregnant on my own after that, only to have the RE tell me getting pregnant again would be a VERY BAD IDEA. So where does that leave me if there is the expectation that IVF could work for me again, but because of the deformity of my uterus, having kids could likely lead to death? I think I fall under Recovering Infertile Now with 100% more Secondary Infertility!

[Elizabeth]

I am 23 weeks 2 days pregnant thanks to lucky IVF #4, and I am certainly still infertile. I think I will always be infertile. I suppose it is theoretically possible for me to conceive on my own, but even if all planets aligned in some harmonic convergence and it happened, I would still consider myself infertile.

I think there should be a simple lay-person definition of infertility. If there was ever a time in your life when your first reaction to seeing a heavily pregnant woman would be to think 'lucky bitch' then you are infertile.

[midlife mommy]

You know, I am infertile too. But once my daughter arrived through DE, it all didn't matter much any more. Now, we want another one, and we just went ahead and made arrangements with another donor (after the FETs didn't work). While I wish that I had been one of the lucky ones to get pregnant on my own, I just wasn't. Your infertility defined you for awhile, and now it doesn't. And that's OK.

Here's a comforting thought for you -- sooner or later, all women become infertile. For some of us, it is just sooner rather than later.

[Anne]

I really liked Alison's comment, that infertility is an identity based on having to work much harder on something that comes easily for most other people. I also hesitate to consider myself infertile, but we tried for 9 months using OPKs and the whole bit, and nothing happened until my doctor put me on progesterone. I can't prove it, but I think I had two chemical pregnancies within those months. The cycle during which I went on progesterone, I got pregant and now have a 14 month old daughter. I know many people (including you!) have tried for a LOT longer and had to have many more invasive procedures and spend a lot more money in order to have children, which is why I don't like to call myself infertile. But I do remember the feeling of dread as the months rolled on and nothing seemed to be happening, so I feel kind of like a "cousin" or an "ally" to women who have had more serious issues with fertility.

Also, like some other posters have mentioned, my experience colors how I think about becoming pregnant again. I've already talked to my doctor about going back on progesterone, and I worry that I will have problems again next time. Our previous experiences never really go away...

[Miss W]

It's funny because I've always been kind of in that state of not quite infertile but not quite fertile. I've been able to become pregnant every time I wanted to, but in all but one case I've miscarried. So despite the 2 year old sitting beside me, I still view myself as subfertile (or as I describe it "a really fertile version of infertility"). It doesn't completely define me as it once did, but it's still a part of me. When contemplating adding to our family, I find myself researching gestational surrogacy, adoption, AND statistics for successful pregnancies in those with my uterine anomaly.

It doesn't go away. No matter what.

[Julie]

What's interesting to me is that my situation was somewhat the reverse of yours. I got pregnant quickly with my first child and didn't experience infertility until we tried to have a 2nd child. And strangely enough, although I guess technically I would now be considered infertile, I don't view myself as such, to the degree that I give it any thought. I think that secondary infertility plays a much different mind game on you. We didn't get much into the medical aspects of infertility. We very lightly dabbled in the bloodtest/ultrasound game for a few months, but quickly moved on to adoption. I can't speak for anyone else experiencing secondary infertility, but for me, it didn't have much impact on my life. We now have a 2nd child through adoption and I really couldn't imagine my family being any other way than it is. So I guess in the end I consider myself fertile but can't get pregnant and you consider yourself infertile and are pregnant!lol Life's funny that way! Best of luck to you!

Julie