A one-track mind

I used to be an interesting person.

I work in public relations, so I know a lot about what’s going on in the local communities and the city. I watch a lot of TV, so I’m well-versed in pop culture. I love theater, music, scrapbooking and philosophizing.

Yet these days I have nothing to talk about except infertility.

Friends ask what’s new in my life. I could share our adventures during our recent vacation to Florida, or talk about our continued work with our youth group at church. But instead, all I can think of is our struggles to have a child. And depending upon which friend or family member it is, they either a) don’t know we’ve been trying; b) already know, are probably sick of hearing about it and don’t really have much to say except they’re sorry; or c) already know and continue to feed my frantic obsessiveness by allowing me to go over the details yet one more time.

When did I become so self-indulgent?

When I psychoanalyze myself (yet another one of my hobbies), I realize that this is a pattern with me. I tend to dwell on the one thing in my life I wish I could change. When I was living in another city while planning a wedding with M, I fretted because I was ready quit my job and relocate to where he was living RIGHT THEN, rather than waiting until our marriage and the end of my lease. I was sick of my job and ready to move on to a new career. Then, when I finally moved to southeastern Wisconsin, I was frustrated because the job search was taking longer than I had planned. I thought to myself, All I want is a full-time job! And now, for about a year, I’ve been focused on having a child. At my church, there are very few “childless” married couples. I feel like “familyhood” is a club that I desperately want to be a part of, but which hasn’t yet accepted me as a member. So here I wait, in limbo.

Let me add here that I realize I haven’t been through nearly as much hell as many of you. I haven’t gone through multiple failed IVFs, or multiple miscarriages, or even had many cycles during which I could have legitimately gotten pregnant (actually, I’ve had one). But it’s fear that drives me. Fear that nothing short of injectables will allow me to reliably ovulate. Fear that we will break the bank trying IVF (I have very little infertility health insurance), and still won’t end up with a baby (or two). Fear that three or four years down the road, I will still be writing this blog about our attempts to start a family.

And that fear has taken over my thoughts so completely that I don’t have anything else to talk about.

I am no longer an interesting person.