Infertile ID: Introduction

This blog is meant to be an outlet for my generally neglected ID (which according to Freudian theories, whatever they are worth, is supposedly the site of my unconscious, egoistic, & primitive urges and desires) in dealing with secondary infertility. My ID may, of course, be occasionally be censored by my Superego (my social conscious).

It’s not pretty, my ID. It has somewhat “dark” feelings. It is self-centered and indulges occasionally (or as some would argue: always) in self-pity. I probably wouldn’t have very many friends if they had to deal with my ID a whole lot. Though, coming to think: these days my Ego and Superego don’t have a whole lot of friends either. Suppressing the ID has one big downside, it takes a whole lot of energy, and contributes to my feeling of depression, anger, and bitterness. And depression is, let’s face it, unattractive to be around. So, I decided that a blog would be a reasonable outlet for all this “dark” energy. And who knows, it may even help other women suffering from (secondary) infertility just as other blogs have helped me.

Where do I start? I am actually not too fond of many of Freud’s ideas. However, lately it feels as if there is a war going on within me. A war between how I should feel (let’s call that the Superego) and how I do feel (let’s call that the ID). And the mediator (let’s call that the ego) is getting tired in trying to find a compromise that works.

Need an example?
Infertile ID (spotting a pregnant belly, holding its breath): “need to scream, need to scream, need to scream….”
Superego: “that’s not nice. She hasn’t done anything to you. Be happy for her.”
Infertile ID: “WTF?”
Ego (very tired): Guys, please, can’t we just all get along?”
(and so on and so on)

So, that’s why I am here now, trying to make sense out of things that seem utterly senseless, reaching out to a world of women who go through similarly senseless and devasting times. Times of infertility.

In my personal case, I’m dealing with secondary infertility (SIF) as I was thankfully able to get pregnant and stay pregnant once with my now 2-year old daughter Miss V. In retrospect, I am not sure how I ever got pregnant. People claim that sex played a role. But since Mr. H. and I haven’t yet managed to replicate the experience in over 17 months, and according to my RE our best shot is IVF for a sibling, I sometimes wonder whether I, perhaps, got abducted by aliens? I mean, given my blood type and all? You see, some people suggest that people with my blood type (O-, a winner!) are sort of aliens or at the very least get visited by aliens a whole lot. I admit, I found this, how shall we call it, intriguing piece of information on the internet. But I digress.

Secondary infertility hit me both, expectedly and unexpectedly. Expectedly, because I have a known history of (aggressive) endometriosis. And endometriosis is never good news, particularly not if a woman still wants children. SIF heat me unexpectedly, because deep down, I thought I beat my odds once, I could do it again. I was quite wrong.

But endometriosis is not the only ailment of my reproductive systems. Since the birth of my daughter, I’ve added a ruptured uterus, cervical dysplasia (leep-ed), and Asherman’s syndrome. And on top of this, my aging ovaries (FSH was declared normal, yet a tad bit high) indulge themselves in growing chocolate cysts. Yes, there is not a single part of my reproductive plumbing that can be considered normal.

When we started trying for our elusive second child, we knew that we were looking at a high-risk pregnancy. Not only is my blood type (O-) sort of a bummer, but I am also at high risk for recurrent gestational diabetes (another winner!) and uterine ruptures (my biggest winner!). And then, who knows what else is lurking in the shadows. But I wasn’t prepared for how difficult it would be to even get pregnant. And in all honesty, I am bewildered about my shitty reproductive luck and frequently angry and bitter about it. Who would have thought that the ordinary dream of having children turns out to be so exotic?