When Anger Takes Over: The Emotional Toll of Infertility

I've written this out 3 or 4 times. Each time I get too angry, and my words and my heart don’t align. I delete the whole thing and start again. So maybe this will explain it the best.

When Anger Takes Over: The Emotional Toll of Infertility

I feel angry that I even have to write this. I’m angry at myself for the awful emotions I have about other couples and other people in a similar position. I’m angry that they just have one or two issues, and I’m over here fighting 5 chronic medical conditions (T1 Diabetes, PCOS, Endometriosis, Hashimoto’s, and Hypothyroidism). I’m angry that my brain even thinks about that. I’m angry that my husband is not questioned as much as I am. I’m angry that he doesn’t have to feel everything. I’m angry that I keep getting congratulated on how well I’m taking this because I’m not taking this well at all. It just makes other people uncomfortable when I talk about it.

I’m angry that this journey feels like a competition over who is suffering the most when none of us are having a good time. I’m angry it’s called a journey. I’m angry that I have to spend money on something my body should do naturally. I’m angry that I was stupid enough to think that my broken body would do it "normally."

I’m angry that I have to keep having conversations about it. I’m angry I have to explain this process to people. I’m angry that they don’t get it. I’m angry that I do!!!

I’m angry that I cry every single time I explain it. I’m angry that I get a tiny bit of hope and go down a rabbit hole of Googling and social media pages, only for it to explode in my face. Then I have to spend 3–4 weeks personalizing my feed again so I don’t see baby stuff.

I’m angry that I would make such a good mum and I’m not. I’m angry that there are people who are awful parents and yet, they are parents. I’m angry that I think like that. I’m angry that I’m used as an excuse to get rid of others’ bodily rights. I’m angry that there are people in this community who use us as an excuse to get rid of others’ bodily rights.

I’m angry that I was naïve enough to think I would only have to go through one round and I’d have a baby. I’m angry that I didn’t record any of the previous rounds through photos, videos, or even writing them down. I’m angry I downplayed it. I’m angry that I told people not to worry about me. I’m angry that I took it on the chest and kept going. I’m angry that I was able to lie so well. I’m angry that people believed me.

I’m angry that my husband won’t be a dad. I’m angry that my marriage is statistically likely to fail. I’m angry that I’ve failed as a wife. I’m angry that my husband is just as much to "blame." I’m angry that there is no one to "blame." I’m angry there isn’t an answer. I’m angry that there is nothing to fix or treat or change.

I’m angry at all the changes I’ve had to make. I’m angry I haven’t changed enough. I’m angry I’ve taken steps back from the people I love because it hurts too much. I’m angry that they tiptoe around me because they don’t know how to act or what to say.

I’m angry that it hurts. I’m angry that I feel like I can’t tell people it hurts because it hurts them.

I’m angry. I’m exhausted from being angry. And I’m angry I’m exhausted.

Talking about it with a professional helps. If nothing else, it gives me the permission to feel all of this without the guilt, and it has let me know that anger is an okay emotion to feel. It doesn’t make me a bad person—which I feel like 97% of the time.

-Jorja

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