I’m not a religious person, and for that I’m glad. My infertility, dX, and TX would have been enough to make me lose my faith. I’ve seen it happen to people, and that just creates yet another trauma to go through. But at least those women have a target for their anger, at least for a little while. They have a god to blame, to question why, to bargain with.
Who could I hate? Myself.
And I did.
Somehow, this was my fault.
It was the Clomid.
It was a skipped prenatal vitamin.
It was inherited from me because I have undiagnosed spina bifida occulta.
I have MTHFR.
My showers were too hot.
I had a virus.
I’m not meant to have a baby.
All my fault.
I know that it isn’t true, but even now, there are days when the doubt returns.
A few years ago, I found a blog written by a couple who, after struggling with infertility, gave birth to a baby boy with severe disabilities. They found strength in God, and at point, one of the parents mused about how sad it must be for people without faith to go through a situation like this alone and without God. That little comment meant nothing to me the first time I read it, but when I read it again a few weeks ago, it chaffed a little.
Alone? Now more than ever, I don’t feel alone. I have friends and family who have carried me through this. I have counselors who have training and experience with my situation and look out for my best interest. I have found friends in places that I never would have looked before. I am not going through this alone.
I may not have the faith in God that some of my friends have, but I do have faith. So at the end of the day, who’s there?
Me and my husband.