ivf journey – L. M. Archer

Wasteland

A wasteland so bareen
A dry and dusty hue
Nothing has sprouted
Nothing had grew

Tears used as water
Blood to nourish
Heart providing warmth
But nothing will flourish

Will life be seen?
Will cries be heard?
Will the world come alive?
Will growth be stirred?

It matters not
The death the land bleeds
Gone is the life
The end of the seeds

Blood turns to dust
River paths run dry
Flesh gave away
To live you must die

Growth may never return
1095 days to see something bloom
Only to be gone
Taken from the world too soon

The wasteland is still barren
Gray, sad and alone
The nights and days blend
The maiden becomes the crone

Blood

Is it life or is it death?
This blood that flows through my veins
It gives life
It carries your breathe
It keeps you alive
As long as you don't loose too much
Because then you die
Once a month, I die a little
I bleed and hate myself
Twice last year, I blead for days
I lost a potential life
Blood means death
It means loss and heartache
I ask myself
Why can't I bleed in my more constructive manner?
Why can't I bleed in a way that will allow me to truly die?
Instead, I have to live with half deaths.
Blood that kills my soul but not my body.
It makes me loose my heart but not its beat
Blood means both life and death
And once a month, I die.

I know these are very difficult to read. I know they can be triggering. They are dark. My poems tend to be, but I hope they resonate with someone. You are not alone.

Please follow me on my social media accounts below. I also beg you to please donate to our go fund me to start IVF treatments. Please. I want to stop hating my body. I want to stop hating myself. I want to give life. I don’t want to always be a wasteland.

CONTENT WARNING!! Infertility

Dear Pregnant Stranger,

I see you out and about, roaming the baby aisle at Target with a purpose while I go through those isle, looking at the contents with longing. You pat your belly, picking up various items, inspecting them with a huge smile on your face. Occasionally you’ll show your significant other, and you will discuss pros and cons.

A part of me hates you, but then I instantly feel guilty because the truth of the matter is, I don’t know your story. You could have gone through years and years of infertility like me, only to end up spending your life savings on IVF for it to work for you, or you could have gotten pregnant by accident, the result of a night coated with inhibreation and lose inhibitions.

I don’t know you so I shouldn’t hate you, but I do. I know it’s jealousy, the envy that lives deep inside of us all coming to the surface. I hate it, but I don’t really know how to stop it. I just… I want to be in the baby aisle of Target with a purpose. I want to bicker with my husband about the pros and cons of a certain brand of diaper. I want that, but the American healthcare system has failed me. It’s failed us all really.

Maybe you are one of the people who spent your life savings on a chance to be a mother. If you are, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that the healthcare in our country is so fucked up that you have to spend somewhere between 10,000 and 15,000 dollars just to become a mother. I’m sorry that it cost twice that to adopt.

At this point, I have been told that IVF is really our last option, but my husband and I cannot afford it. We don’t have any kind of savings. We don’t have anyone to help us. We have nothing in this battle. Just like everything else in this country, if you’re not rich then you don’t matter. Your wants and needs do not matter.

My insurance is more than happy to cover limp-dick syndrome but it covers 0% of infertility cost. That’s right ZERO. Meaning, every single procedure I’ve had in regards to infertility has been paid for out of pocket or billed to me with a lovely little bow. Each IUI cost somewhere between 300 and 500 dollars. That seems like chump change in comparison to the cost of IVF. IUIs haven’t worked though. Nothing works, and IVF isn’t a guarantee.

So, I guess I will just stand in the baby aisle of Target, looking at the merchandise with longing. I guess I will continue to feel like a failure in this world because my body cannot do the one thing that it is biologically supposed to be capable of. I cannot give life, only death.

So please, Stranger, cherish your pregnancy and baby. Cherish motherhood with everything you have because some of us are forced to just view it from a distance. Some of us aren’t gifted with the ability to create and hold life. Some of us are just wastelands of dust and sorrow.

Sincerely,

A Broken Wasteland