Holidays Are Not Easy, Even When You Have Candy

This morning, I kissed my husband goodbye and sent him on his way to work with a giant bowl of candy. I think he's going to be very popular today. But last night, we were not the popular ones. We didn't have any trick-or-treaters. Sifting through the mound of candy, picking out my favorites, it didn't take long to realize why not a single monster, princess or superhero stopped by.

When we moved to this charming town we had dreams of what life would be like. In part, we imagined little trick-or-treaters knocking on our door or us going around in our safe neighborhood with our kid(s) in tow. By the time summer turned into autumn and the leaves reached peak foliage, we'd already been through months of trying and three failed IUIs. I certainly was in no mood for Halloween and be reminded of what was already feeling out of reach. So, we kept our lights off and hid in another part of the house where we wouldn't be seen. They still came, still rang the doorbell...

Months turned into years and it wasn't until this year (now 5 years since we'd moved out of the city) that I finally felt like I could be part of the community. I made a trip to Target, got a few decorations to put on our door, a super-sized bag of candy and at last a bowl befitting of the celebration. I pictured opening the door. Handing out candy and my son getting to see all these kids dressed up, making him excited to become one of them next year. But instead, it was me and the candy (let's say the candy won and I'm not feeling so good today).

Even though I am finally on the other side, I was reminded of the scars of infertility. Some are buried deep within, some are visible ones from surgeries, but this one -- not having kids knock on our door on Halloween -- was a haunting reminder of how detached I had become from everything and everyone.

Along with the cold weather, the beautiful leaves and the seasonal festivities come the obvious presence of neighborhood kids and family gatherings. Halloween, Thanksgiving and the holidays make up probably one of the toughest few months for the infertile community. There really isn't a magic way to avoid being perpetually reminded of your crushed dreams.

I'm sure there will be lots of advice passed around on how to best handle these awkward and often times hurtful situations. I'm not sure I have the best advice considering. But what I can give you is a promise that I and the rest of the community will be at your finger tips (blog or twitter) for comfort.

The Sting of Mother's Day When Coping With Infertility

Holidays are tough when you're going through infertility. Whether it's your relatives asking why you don't have kids yet, or your sister-in-law complaining about her 3 kids that she popped out one after the other and callously tells you you can have hers, or your cousin making her pregnancy announcement, or children showing up at your door to spread the cheer. But no holiday stings more than Mother's Day.

Sure, you're thankful for your mother (unless she's adding insult to injury by telling you about so-and-so's new baby), but truthfully, Mother's Day is just a horrible reminder of what you're not, what you want so desperately to become and even, perhaps, what you might never become. Strangers will wish you a happy Mother's Day, oblivious to your heartache hidden behind your silence. But, for someone coping with infertility, every day feels like Mother's Day, so by the time that one Sunday in May rolls around, it's like another gallon of salt poured on the wound.

If only Mother's Day was contained into a single day (you could just sleep through it), but no, instead TV shows, magazines, advertisers spend at least two weeks gearing up for the big day. Segments like "What to get for Mother's Day," or "The special mom of the year" seem to make up a large portion of programming. And just when you think you're coming up for air with a commercial break, advertisers have to scream about their Mother's Day sales or promotions with images of unattainable motherhood/parenthood. You might try to hide in the darkness and anonymity of a movie theater only to be bombarded by the "Babies" trailer (and no, I'm not creating a link to it). Seriously?! It's like a conspiracy.

I don't think there's a good way to deal with Mother's Day, but if you are lucky enough to have a loving partner, then make it a date-day and do things that don't involve families: take a romantic bath together, eat at a fancy restaurant, go see an R rated movie. Also, there isn't enough that could be said about taking solace in your fellow infertile friends. They understand your isolation and the tragic pain of Mother's Day, so get together with them -- there's (emotional) strength in numbers.

No matter which way you go on Mother's Day, I want you to make the day about you and the fragile feelings that need to be sheltered from this Hallmark holiday. After all, Mother's Day is about showing appreciation for a mother's hard work, well I say, no one is more committed and hard working than a woman trying to have a baby. So here's to you my fellow infertiles!