What's your lens?

So I decided that being diagnosed as IF has changed the way I think about, well, most things.  Commonplace conversations and occurrences get filtered through a different lens.  I guess it wasn't a decision as much as a realization I came to...and I suppose it's not much of an epiphany: we are all shaped by our experiences.

It's just interesting (and at times, annoying) how things that would have never phased me before are suddenly cast in a new light.  I have a couple specific examples from the past week that I am going to ramble about...

1. Do you watch Biggest Loser?  I do.  And I love that show.  I get teary almost every episode (surprised?) and my husband makes fun of me for getting sucked into the "sappy" moments.  But, I feel for these people...I may not be overweight, but I know what it is like to have mental and physical road-blocks, pain, and coping mechanisms. 

Anyway, this week was makeover week.  A chance for the contestants to celebrate their progress and embrace the new life ahead of them.  One lady on the show this season came because she wants to have a family...she's been trying for four years I think...and she finally decided that it was time to do something about her weight because it is probably playing a big role in her infertility.  She ended up having to go home after the weigh in, but left in great spirits excited about the fabulous life ahead of her.  She said something along the lines of "See you at the finale where I'll be smaller...unless I am pregnant (wink)!"  She had this little sparkle in her eye and it looked to me like someone who had found hope again after a long, painful journey.  And all I could think, through the lens of IF, is "God, I hope she's right. I hope this is the ticket for her.  I hope the pain of IF doesn't continue to plague her...but, it might...her weight loss doesn't guarantee fertility." 

Infertility has caused me to approach hope with trepidation.  Brene Brown would call it "foreboding joy."  After reading countless blogs, I can tell it is a common occurrence for women who have experienced infertility, failed treatments, miscarriages, and infant loss.  Even if/when a woman with IF finally achieves that pregnancy she's been longing for, the hope and joy comes with caution and doubt.

Another thing happened on the episode that most people probably didn't even notice.  But I did.  One of the men, who lost his first wife to cancer and promised her that he would always take care of their two daughters, said, "Now I can really be there for my girls.  For everything...the weddings and the grandbabies..."  A totally normal thing to say, right?  But of course, I had this philosophical conversation with myself about how comments like this from parents, grandparents, people in general, are part of what makes IF so surprising and difficult to deal with.  Society has this trajectory for life with assumed milestones. Growing up, my trajectory was school, college, job, marriage, babies, graduations, weddings, grandkids, and if I get lucky...maybe some great-grandkids eventually.  It didn't seem like too much to ask.  It's how life is supposed to go and everyone knows it.  But nothing in this life is guaranteed.  College isn't an option (or the best option) for everyone.  Weddings don't just happen.  Marriages don't always last.  Babies don't get delivered by storks.  Kids don't always get to have full lives. Etc. Etc.  Sometimes we can't live the life we had planned for ourselves.        

2.  The second situation happened in the staffroom at lunch time one day.  We have a few staff members who are pregnant, and many who are moms and grandmas, so babies are bound to be the subject of conversation often.  I know some of my co-workers read this blog, so PLEASE don't change your conversation on my behalf or feel guilty if you talk about kids or being pregnant.  I want to know about my friends' kids and experiences.  I can handle it.  I only mention it here, because like I said, being infertile has changed my perspective so much.

The other day one of our pregnant staff members was sharing about her most recent ultrasound and wondering about the baby's gender and people were chiming in with their own ultrasound tales and little methods for gender prediction and saying things like "New babies are so exciting," and yatta, yatta, yatta.  None of that really phased me.  But somehow, big age gaps between siblings came up in the conversation...like how some students have much older siblings.  And it was at this unlikely point in the conversation that my IF defenses shot up.  The common prediction might be that the siblings have different mothers or fathers or that the parents got "surprised" by the arrival of the younger child or got pregnant with the older one when they themselves were very young.  Nobody ever mentions that maybe the couple faced secondary infertility.  But I didn't say anything...because "Waaah, waaah."   

3. I also ran across these little gems on facebook this week:

My thought, "Umm, or maybe you'll have to settle for diamonds."

 

First thought, "That doesn't even make grammatical sense...they are my and everything??  Don't people proofread before they share this stuff?  Unless you are supposed to read the heart, then it says they are my heart and everything.  I guess it makes sense.  But if you read the heart, are you supposed to read that leaf thing too?  What the heck is that there for?"  (I guess sometimes I am still a teacher first...except when it comes to this blog because I don't always proofread before sharing a post...do as I say, not as I do).

Second thought, "You and your partner-in-crime were also blessed with cooperating reproductive systems...why don't you post about that?"  Guess that doesn't sound as sweet...

So those are just a few specific ways that infertility has changed the way I see/hear things.  But there are plenty of other things that happen day to day that could be added to the list.  Like when you see that pregnant lady in the grocery store or at the airport.  Do most people just see a pregnant lady?  Do they wonder when she's due?  Do they ask if she's having a boy/girl?  Because they first thing I think, is "I wonder where that baby came from?  Did that just happen naturally according to her anticipated life-timeline?  Did she even mean for this to happen? Or is she the 1 in 8 that went through hell to get to this point?"  I get that this is probably totally inappropriate to think about a complete stranger, but it does help keep the jealousy at bay.  I always allow a little room for the chance that she is a fellow IFer.

Is my infertility lens tainting me?  Maybe.  But I'd rather think that this is part of the growing and becoming-a-better-person process.  I'd like to think that my lens is helping me be more compassionate about the journeys and struggles that we all face as humans.

So tell me, what things have shaped your perspective?  Is there some experience (even if it is "being a parent") that has forever changed the way you see/hear things? Empathy is about trying a walk a mile in someone else's shoes...or trying on their glasses, if you will.  So, what's your lens?