Behold the dragon

Dragons. Webster's dictionary defines them as "mythical animal usually represented as a monstrous winged and scaly serpent or saurian with a crested head and enormous claws." The Chinese view dragons as symbols of strength, power and good luck. Referring to someone as a "dragon" is the ultimate in compliments, indicating that this person is outstanding and excels. But Dragons are also viewed in a negative light. European cultures view dragons as villainous reptiles who reek havoc and destruction. To encounter a dragon is the ultimate test in strength and survival, as these creatures are also cunning. It is fitting that these creatures are seen as a symbol of change.


This past Friday, I met with Dee to begin a series of painful therapy sessions. I'll write more in the near future about what we've been doing and provide an update. Prior to the session, though, we talked more about adoption and I began hitting her with a number of naive questions regarding starting the process, finding agencies, etc. Smiling, she proceeded to hand me two books to provide some basic information. The first one is called "Adoption After Infertility," by Patricia Irwin Johnston. Though an older book, Dee thought it would be a good place to start.


Following my meltdown after the adoption information meeting on Saturday, I picked up the book and began to read. The first section called the "Challenge of Infertility" opened with the metaphor of the dragon. As I read, I found myself nodding along with many of the observations from the author. Starting with the idea that people who are quick to throw adoption out as a viable alternative are usually the same who would not even consider taking a similar route. The fact that most people view the road to parenthood as a pretty pleasant and defined path: have sex, get a positive pregnancy test and 9 months later you're congratulating one another on the ability to pass on your genes. That infertility is really an uncharted territory for most, an unspeakable fear that many would prefer to ignore.


What struck me most in the first chapter was the statement by the author that infertility is not simply one loss. It involves multiple losses: 
1) Loss of control over many aspects of life 
2) Loss of one's genetic continuity linking past and future
3) Loss of joint conception of a child with one's life partner
4) Loss of the physical sensation of pregnancy and birth
5) Loss of the emotional gratifications of pregnancy and birth
and finally
6) Loss of the opportunity to parent


Infertility robs us of all of this. With the help of modern medicine, those who undergo treatment have the opportunity to regain all of these. But what if treatment fails? What about those of us who come to the end of the road for this part of the journey, finding that our arms are still empty? Adoption is most certainly a road to recover the last opportunity, but it's far from an easy journey.


I've been struggling a lot with all these losses recently. Struggling with the fact that the future is still very unclear. This Mother's Day was particularly hard, as I spent it as a bereaved mother, painfully aware of what milestones I would be checking off for both of my pregnancies if they had stuck. So like any animal in pain, I've been lashing out. In my head, I reasoned that Grey would be better off without me, giving him the ability to find a life partner who could give him children and ultimately happiness. I was pushing him away. 


Something happened, though. Something that was completely unexpected. After a particularly painful lash, I picked up Ms. Johnston's book and read a story about a woman who survived infertility, who resolved through adoption. Yet despite her happiness, she spent years mourning her body, which had failed her. Like me, she felt guilty that her husband suck beside her, reasoning that she was holding him back from a more fulfilling life. One day, this woman attended a RESOLVE conference and hear a male therapist talk about how men grieve differently from women. Following the talk, she went home to talk to her husband, asking him to share his thoughts. The conversation startled her, leading to a message that could not have been more self esteem enhancing or important to their marriage. The husband told his wife how carefully he had thought through all those offers and threats of divorce from the years before and how frightening they had been for him. That what he wanted (telling her from the ten-thousandth time, but which she had failed to hear) was not fertility, but her. That the thought of losing his wife, their relationship, their life together was more terrifying than the thought of losing his ability to have biological children.


A moment later, Grey came and sat be me, repeating pretty much the same thing. For the first time, I actually heard what he was saying. And in my heart, I knew I felt the same. That if the chose was a life with Grey and infertility or a life without Grey and fertility, I would chose Grey. 


Mother's Day was spent in the mountains, reflecting on this conversation as well as what I had been reading. As Grey and I hiked into the wilderness, I thought about how the Chinese written expression of "crisis," which contains the characters of two different words: danger and opportunity. 

Image from http://www.chinese-symbols.com/

Infertility is most certainly a crisis, filled with the danger of loss on so many levels. But what I realized while passing the families with small children on the trail was that infertility is also an opportunity. Grey and I have developed communication skills for that enable us to move swiftly through dangerous situations. Time and again, I witness couples on the trail where those communication skill did not exist, leading to potentially dangerous situations. There are many other things that came to mind during the hike, hard-won gifts that we never would have discovered if not for this experience; gifts that we are still learning about. 


Tonight, I am preparing for our next confrontation with our dragons. The dragrons that are dangerous: those of fear, loss, grief and pain. But also the dragons of opportunity. From the time they were conceived, we've referred to our embryos as dragons, as they were meant to be our baby born during the Year of the Dragon. With only four (4) left, that wish may no longer be a reality, but they may instead be the key to the door leading to our children, children who we will be united in the future. A bittersweet thought, but one that I hold on tightly to.