Practicing Good Grief Through Infertility
Grief is the anguish experienced after significant loss. Grief often includes physiological distress, separation anxiety, confusion, yearning, obsessive dwelling on the past, and apprehension about the future. It may also take the form of regret for something lost, remorse for something done, or sorrow for a mishap to oneself.
The American Psychological Association’s definition of grief was the most comprehensive one that I could find. Unlike others, this definition didn’t necessarily focus on some of the most common examples including the death of a loved one, divorce, or a loss of a home. Going through endometriosis and infertility, I didn’t really care about categorizing my grief in one of the 8 buckets. I wasn’t interested in speaking with a therapist to unravel my feelings in front of a stranger. Nor did I even want to admit to myself the stages of grief that I was and still am going through.
I debated writing this blog post. Comparing myself to other women, my complications felt minimal. So many women have endured far more than I have. I never went through failed IVF rounds. I never conceived naturally followed by a miscarriage. But this admittedly was my first mistake. I was comparing my grief to others. Although I consider myself fortunate in many ways, it’s difficult to undermine your own feelings. They’ll never get addressed by taking this approach. They’ll certainly resurface after many prolonged years of physical pain. They’ll always linger taking precious real estate space in my mind.
“Good grief.”
I decided to pull a favorite saying from Charlie Brown. The common phrase was expressed whenever he was bummed out, dismayed, or depressed. But does good grief really exist? How can two words so bipolar at first glance combine to explain a state of being - how does it apply to the stages that I’m going through during my infertility journey?
Sarah Arthur wrote about good grief for the University of Northwestern. There was one sentence that particularly stood out to me.
“Good grief also moves us to action. At a point of deep devastation, a wise counselor encouraged me to grieve well. To move through it meant I needed to allow myself to feel it.”
In a 2022 study, The Relationship Between Infertility, Stress, and Quality of Life with Posttraumatic Stress Disorder in Infertile Women, JP Huang acknowledged infertility as significant trauma, which in turn develops to self-inflicted vulnerability by women - very similar to the effects of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Chronic stress and constant fear of the unknown are symptoms for people with PTSD and women with infertility.
I remember the day when I was told that my chances to become pregnant were grim.
I came home, shared the news with my husband, and the sudden feeling of “Now what?” overcame me. My AMH levels were low. I was geriatric according to textbook standards. I had two rounds of endo surgery with continued pain impacting my quality of life. After swallowing that pill, we decided to go for two rounds of IUI which proved to be unsuccessful.
Another round of grief.
Each round of grief seems different. Depending on where I was in my life, I know that my environment around me impacted how I viewed each trauma-filled event.
Haphazardly getting told by my nurse practitioner that she thought I had endometriosis
Being advised that I need excision surgery to determine a root cause
Getting told after surgery that I had Stage 3 endometriosis. My surgeon questioned how I was able to function normally.
Years later feeling similar pain symptoms and thinking, “My god, I don’t want to go through this again.” I remember going for a run and not being able to make it around the block.
Meeting with my second surgeon with again the same suggestion that I go in for my second round of excision surgery. This followed with a breath of fresh air being told that there were no signs of endo, but rather severe adhesions as a result of my body overcompensating.
IUI round #1 unsuccessful.
IUI round #2 unsuccessful.
Feeling that my quality of life was yet again being impacted by more bad days than good days. Similarly feeling, “My god, I don’t want to go through this again.”
You don’t know what someone has gone through until you walk a mile in their shoes. Vulnerability is typically viewed as a negative characteristic, a weakness. But for those who have gone or are now going through endometriosis and infertility, another Charlie Brown quote resonates.
“I think I’m afraid to be happy because whenever I get too happy, something bad always happens.”
Each trauma event in my life has included the 5 stages of grief:
Denial
Anger
Depression
Bargaining
Acceptance
After my second surgery, I was told I would get pregnant within a year.
I took this as a sign that my 5 stages of grief around my endometriosis were coming to an end. But as we all know, endometriosis is a whole-body disease. There is no cure. There are often lingering after effects with no end in site. I thought I went through the grieving process of having a debilitating condition but those feelings of anger and depression have resurfaced as I await my next appointment to see my surgeon from surgery #2.
This blog was a way to bring acceptance to myself of my infertility journey. Will I ever get pregnant? Do we stop trying? Is there something better out there, more innovative that is increasing the odds? Is there a bigger reason for not being able to have kids? What will life look like without kids? What does that renewed acceptance stage look like?
If you’re looking for a model person who practices good grief, I’m not it - and I’m okay with that.
Part of this journey is learning to explore healthy ways to grieve. Whether it’s grieving about having endometriosis or grieving because I'm not able (currently) to conceive, I’ve learned to be kind(er) to myself. I listen to my body. I push back on societal pressures. I’ve become introverted to try to understand what I want in my future years. Can I envision myself in a new country without children? What can I do to feel “fulfilled” outside of the world of parenting? Practicing good grief is this year’s challenge to myself as I navigate back through my endo pains and infertility obstacles.
If Charlie Brown can do it, so can I.
Sunny side bump,
Olivia
