Bitterness and the Pain Olympics

I joke often about how I’m a “bitter old lady.” Honestly, it’s half joke, half reality. Let me explain.

We’ve been on this infertility/miscarriage roller coaster for 4 years now. I’ve seen a hundred negative tests, and heard too many times that my baby was gone. During all this time, how many friends (Facebook or otherwise) have announced their pregnancies and births? Countless. The first year I was jealous. The second and third year I was bitter. This past year, I’ve been relatively indifferent.

While I had’t received the “infertile” label during the first year, I had already hit three losses. And so every time I saw an announcement and subsequent belly pics growing larger and larger, the green monster hit hard. Why them? Why not me? Hadn’t I hit my requisite suffering quota?

The second and third years were bad. I got angry every time I saw an announcement. I pulled away from so many friends. I cried hot angry tears more nights than not. I was nasty. I said mean things in my head and I could feel my heart turn to stone. I spent time torturing myself watching announcement videos and reveals, just so I could feel something, which was nearly always anger.

I wish I could say I had some sort of epiphany. That I read something or heard something that broke away at my cold, dead heart. In reality, that’s not what happened. I simply grew tired. Scratch that. I became EXHAUSTED. It’s not that I stopped caring. Quite the contrary. In the fourth year, we did our first IVF stimulation round and subsequent transfers (and losses). No, I still cared deeply. But I didn’t have the energy to move forward with IVF, feel all those feelings, AND also care about everyone else and their uterus. I’m not really sure when it happened. It wasn’t a conscious decision. I just remember seeing a pregnancy announcement, typing an all-caps “CONGRATULATIONS” followed by a half dozen exclamation points.. and then scrolling on down. No feelings of hatred. No feelings of “why her.” No feelings of bitterness as I wanted to stab my own empty womb for failing me. It’s been… freeing. My feelings of sadness and disappointment will never leave me. I’ve lost so much. I think the key point here, is that I am no longer comparing my struggles to other people’s struggle, or lack of.

There is a phrase I love that refers to the comparison of struggle- “the pain olympics.” It’s this entire idea that we as people like to see our pain and compare it to others. We, as a competitive species, like to compare even our pain. So we find ourselves saying things like “you wouldn’t understand” or “it could be worse.” This is so, so detrimental to our healing. In the infertility world, we see things like “at least you know you can get pregnant,” “at least you’ve never had to lose a child,” “at least it was only one loss,” “at least it was early,” “at least one of the twins is still alive,” “at least you have a child,” “at least… at least… at least” Friends, let me tell you something. If anything begins with “at least,” it compares and dismisses.

So hear me, sweet friends. I need you do a couple things for me. For YOU.

1.Work on your bitter heart. I wish I could tell you how. As I briefly highlighted, my healing was organic. But if I had made a conscious effort, I could have spared myself a lot of pain and exhaustion. Be mindful of what you think and feel. The simple art of correcting yourself when you feel bitter can work wonders. When you see that announcement from someone who is pregnant with their fourth to your zero, pay attention. If your initial reaction is anger, correct yourself. Remind yourself how blessed she is to have a fertile womb, and be thankful she has not experienced what you have. Know that just because she doesn’t struggle with IF, doesn’t mean she does’t struggle. Everyone struggles with something.

2.Stop comparing struggles to your own. Don’t scoff at someone’s one year of trying versus your 6. Don’t you remember how you felt? It still pained you. A different kind of pain than you experience now, but it still hurt. Instead, remind yourself that if you had the option of taking a year of infertility vs your 6, you would have taken it. Be thankful she hasn’t yet experienced what you have. Acknowledge her pain. Use the wisdom you’ve gained from your years and help her. Be for her who you wish someone else was. But also own your pain. Don’t feel like you are not worthy of pain simply because someone has been trying longer, or had more losses. Your pain is JUST as valid. So embrace it and don’t let it be dismissed.

3.Don’t let someone else compare to you. This is really important. Be a leader in stopping the cycle. When someone comes to you for advice after their first early miscarriage, and says “I know it can never compare to yours…” because you’ve had many, or yours was later, stop them. Acknowledge the pain they’ve been through. One loss or many, early or late- pain is pain. Tell them to own their pain. Just because there are starving children in Africa, doesn’t mean mean she needs to be reminded of it. It doesn’t mean her pain isn’t worthy of comfort. Don’t arbitrarily place people and their struggle on a scale.

4.Acknowledge pain and suffering. Big or small tall or wide, pain is pain. Acknowledge it. Both in your life and in others. Be gentle with people. Lend a listening ear and a helpful hand, even if it seems like no big deal to you.

5.Don’t block the light. What I mean is this- when someone has something to rejoice in, take it at face value. Don’t look for feelings. If someone is pregnant with an “accidet,” rejoice in the miracle of life and the lack of suffering. If someone is pregnant after a single miscarriage, celebrate the overcoming of loss! If someone is pregnant after a year of trying or after trying an easy fix, celebrate. They had a taste of how bad it could be and was able to escape further pain. Never, ever block someone else’s light, no matter how dark it was before.