Coping with infertility.

**full disclosure here**

Will I ever have a baby-belly?

I am not, nor will I ever be, a fertility therapist. I've just been around the bush a time or two. (wink)

A very good online friend, dealing with some problems TTC, recently asked me how I cope with being an infertile. What an excellent question, I thought to myself. But even though we've been dealing with our diagnosis and treatment options for some time now, I actually had to think pretty hard in order to answer her question. You'd think after this many years it would be easy to come up with specific things I do or don't do in order to cope. After replying to her email, I thought it would be an excellent idea to blog about it - after all, that was one of the things on my list of "Ways to Cope if you're Infertile/dealing with Infertility".

So, once I sat down and thought about it for a while, here's what I came up with for my list. 

1. I blog. I started blogging, under another alias, a long time ago. I treat my blog as a diary; I write what I feel, and I don't worry about what others are going to say or comment on. This allows me to get all of my feelings down on this virtual paper, and it also provides an archive of everything I've been through; something that I'll share with my little one when they're old enough to understand all that B and I went through to get them here on this Earth. I considered once, when all of this is over, turning my blog into a book. Publishing my diary for the world to see, so that 1 in 6 woman who's dealing with similar crap that I am can read my rantings and craziness and realize: I'm normal after all. What I'm feeling and saying is normal. That infertility is in fact a disease you're diagnosed with, and something that is (for the most part) out of your control. You didn't do anything wrong in order to end up with baggage like this. You just pulled the short end of the stick. I digress. The nice thing about a blog is that you can share your url with the world or keep it private. It's up to you. But it's cathartic. And sometimes, there's just no one around to listen so I let my fingers do the talking. I'd like to think that I'm articulate enough most days to get out what I'm actually trying to say or express how I feel - but not always. 
2. I read. And you know what? I read crappy, chicklit novels. That's right. Nothing too educational or philosophical here. No. Way. And it's a release. When we were first diagnosed, I swear I took every book on infertility / MFI / IVF / ART out of the library - I wanted to know everything there was about this diagnosis we'd been given, and what our options were. For months all I read was reproductive-based literature. Constantly. It became almost a little obsessive. Some books would tell you to do one thing (for instance, that the man should completely cut out caffeine in its entirety and never drink it again,) and the next book would say the complete opposite (that drinking a moderate amount of caffeine actually helps the metabolism of his swimmers so they can swim faster. Sheesh). My mind was swimming. I couldn't keep all of the facts straight. So, I relinquished. I stopped reading them. I forced myself to stop Googling everything to do with infertility, and started reading crap romance novels. The books allow me to escape; they're a mindless read (meaning I don't have to think too much whilst I read them) and I can burn through one in the course of a couple of days.
3. I talk. I talk to my husband about how I feel; I ask him to tell me how he feels. I keep the lines of communication open with him. Once in a while I talk to the dog. Yup. The dog. He never judges, never talks back. Just listens. And most of the time, that's all I need. My family doesn't know what we're going through, and neither does B's. But, we have each other, and we have told a friend or two in real life, and I converse with a few virtual friends about everything. We've seen counselors too, who were definitely worth the money but became too expensive (that's where all of you reading come in :p ) I've joined online support groups and gone to some meetings for those undergoing fertility treatments. All of it has helped. Telling our friends definitely took a little more effort considering they didn't even know what IVF was to begin with (so we definitely felt like educators at that point in time) but it was so worth it. And we were selective in the ones we told; and it's paid off. They know when to ask about everything and when not to. 
4. I exercise. Probably not nearly enough, but I do. And one of my New Year's resolutions is to get back at it even more so before our upcoming cycle. Why not. It's great to feel better and more healthy, but at the same time I'm sure it can only increase our odds if I shed a few pounds of fat before we start injectables. And it allows me to physically decompress. I can take my frustrations and depressions out on that elliptical and treadmill. And man some days they sure take a beating. I walk away from the gym feeling better. Invigorated. And I sleep so much better. It's totally worth the $40 and the 20 hours I spend there in a month. It gets me out of the house to a place other than work, which during the winters here is a task all in itself.
5. I decompress. I make the effort to actually sit in front of the television for an hour a day, watching mindless tv. I go to massage therapy a couple of times a month. I start acupuncture at the end of this month. I'm thinking (and looking into) doing some yoga, whether it's in a studio or in my living room with one of those DVDs. I go for coffee once a week with my best friend. And, every once in a while (every couple of months?) I allow myself to have a bit of retail therapy, and I go out and buy something nice for myself. It could be a new pair of shoes, jeans or a nice bag, but I get something even if it's little - I don't need to spend a bunch of money (heck, we don't have the money to spend!). And again, it's more so the act of getting out of the house, change of scenery and getting my mind off of things. 
6. I work. I'm very blessed in the fact that my work is not too stressful, but at the same time, I have to really *think* to do it, if you know what I mean. It's not a mindless job that I can perform on Autopilot every day. Quite the contrary. And my job allows me to come into contact and meet several people in a day, so I get to be social. So work has actually become a place that I can go to to escape what we're going through. It's a relief to walk in that door and for 8 hours every day, I don't have to think about the fact that we'll have to probably sell our house to have a baby, or that we may never have a baby to hold. At the same time: I'm extremely conscious of NOT bringing my personal problems to work - that I leave them at the door as I walk in to the office. Not to say that I won't have bad days, I will and do, but I make sure that they are as few and far between as possible.

That's all I've got. That's what I do. I just hope that one day I can look back at this list and think that man! I was being neurotic for nothing. And I hope, if you are reading this now my email friend, that when you make your list up one day you're going to look back on yours too and think the same thing.