In a moment of panic the other week, I almost ran to my computer, signed into my blog and Facebook accounts, and deleted all mention of our infertility.

I take it all back.

Am I crazy for talking about this so publicly?  Who really needs to know the intimate details of our baby making efforts?  Do any of you really care?  Sure, it’s not like I’m broadcasting all the stats of our sex life—we all know by now, because I’ve been giving you the play-by-play, that simply having sex will not work for us—but listening to someone talk about medical procedures can get really tiresome, no?  I’m like the Great-Aunt you see only at holidays and are forced to hear endless, unnecessary details about her bunions/achy back/strange cough/gastro-intestinal issues from the moment she walks in the door.  Sorry for being the Great-Aunt of the group.  I take it all back.

And then there are our families.  Our families who have known almost from Day One about our visits to the doctors, how we’re progressing, all of our ups and downs.  Now, with our first IVF cycle quickly approaching, I wonder if it was a mistake cluing them in at all to what we’re going through.  What if the first cycle doesn’t work?  What if the second cycle doesn’t work and we’re all out of tries that are covered by insurance?  What if either cycle works initially but then we miscarry?  That is a whole mess of emotion I would’ve rather kept to myself, rather than exposing my family to that immense anticipation and possible heartbreak.  And then there are my friends, and even the strangers who are also struggling with infertility, who have been following along with the blog and rooting for us.  If these IVF cycles don’t work, I might be subjecting them to unnecessary disappointment as well.  Excuse me, friends and family, while I try to erase everything I’ve said in the past.  I take it all back.

But what happens if I do become pregnant?  What will I blog about before I’m ready to announce our growing family to my social media world?  I’m backing myself into a content corner, here.  Trying?  No, we’re not trying to have a baby.  You’ll find out after the obligatory three-month waiting period when I post my fuzzy ultrasound photo or emerging baby bump on Facebook.  I take it all back.

It’s in moments of panic and doubt like these where I have to remind myself why I started blogging about our infertility in the first place.  Because someone needs to talk about it.  Because not enough resources exist for infertility support.  Because lawmakers and decision-makers need to better understand what it’s all about.  Because someone out there can relate.

All that business about taking it all back?  I take it all back.

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