I used to think I could write more meaningful blog posts if
things weren’t going so well for Matthew and me. Was that a fateful wish or what?!? We have been to hell and back in the past
year, and I don’t think we would change a single thing. A more appropriate title for this post would be Our Love Story.
I have spent a lot of time writing during our struggle with
infertility. There is so much to say, so
much I wanted to share, or scream, and I often thought about this momentous
blog when I would get the opportunity to share.
Now that the time has come, though, I have an urge to skip over it and
get right to the good part: my babies!
But I’ll resist the urge; this past year has tested our faith and our
marriage, it has made us realize what is important in life, and it has made us
different, better, stronger people.
Let me preface all of this by saying that infertility on the
spectrum of life’s trials is not an extreme, but it is definitely closer to the
extreme than I thought before I dealt with it myself. It is also more common than I realized; according
to the RESOLVE, The National Infertility Association, a reported 10% of the
population is affected. This is why I
made the decision to be open about it – I hope I can help others if they have
to face this monster, too.
Long story short…Matthew and I started trying to pass along
our genes about two years ago. Whether
it was a premonition that something was wrong or not, I went to the physician
relatively early and took oral medications for about six months without a great
response and no BFP (this stands for “big fat positive”…there is a whole crazy
lingo in the infertility underworld) and a bunch of BFNs (you can figure this
one out). Two surgeries (the first of
which showed my fallopian tubes were not open), about 25 ultrasounds, 3 IVs,
over 60 injections and 25 blood draws, 1 egg retrieval and embryo transfer, and
about 7 million tears later, our good news finally came. The official test date was August 29th,
but I couldn’t wait and secretly took the test the day before. I couldn’t believe and still can’t believe
that we are going to be a mom and dad in a few months.
Throughout everything, everyone kept telling me, “It’ll work
out,” “It’ll happen,” “You’re just thinking about it too much,” blah, blah,
blah. We learned that these expressions are
nearly meaningless. What to say and not
to say is one of the many lessons we have learned…another post for another
time.
But something else I realized after we got the news that I
could not have children without assistance is that infertility is about more
than not being able to have children naturally.
I looked outside at everything green and thought, ‘this is what God’s
world does on its own,’ and I wasn’t a part of it. I was so angry! I have done everything I was supposed to do –
finish school, get a good job, enjoy married life – and this was not fitting into
my plan. I was one of those girls that
thought about having a baby a lot before we got married and in the early years;
I looked forward to breastfeeding and imagined myself as a cute, preppy
pregnant gal. I thought about how we
would break the news to our parents and make the official facebook
announcement. And then all of a sudden
that seemed trivial. The anticipation of
the injections, particularly the intramuscular ones that Matthew had to give
me, was terrifying, and I felt so belittled lying on the bed with my big bottom
getting primed for a shot. The actual
shots weren’t nearly as bad as the anticipation, but I lay there in tears thinking,
‘most people get pregnant from a few romps in the sack, and this is what I have
to go through!?!’
The uncertainty was hands down the worst part. I kept saying that if I could be guaranteed I
would have a baby at some point, I could be calm and patient. I guess that’s the whole “faith” thing at its
finest. It was literally the first thing
I thought about in the morning and the last thing I thought about before
bed. I tried to make my prayers less
selfish, but there was always a “thanks for the plan” and “please give me
peace” over this in every prayer. I
thought about it nonstop during the day…what if, what if, what if.
I often thought to myself that I couldn’t handle a much
bumpier road than the one we were on. It
scared me to even think this thought because I imagined God looking down
saying, “Oh yes you can!” and delivering another whopping blow. I kept thinking about all the things I would
do if I couldn’t have children – get an interior decorator, have a regular
housecleaner, use a personal trainer.
It’s like when I got a “prize” after something bad happened at school
growing up. I knew, though, that none of
this stuff would fill the big hole that would be there if I couldn’t have
children. The scariest part was that I
wondered what the rest of my life would amount to without a family of my
own. Matthew and I have been building
this life together all in preparation to have a family one day. What are we without the rest of that
family? Is our marriage enough with just
the two of us? Is it worth Matthew
missing out on one of his life’s dreams just because I’m dysfunctional? These are the questions that were running
through my head constantly.
I know I claim to have the best friends and family in the
world a lot, but let me say it again: they’re
the best. I think they felt genuine
sadness for us, and even more comforting, they were angry about it, too. They let me cry without trying to make me
stop, and they never questioned our desire to do whatever we had to do have our
own children. They also called to check
in often and sent notes of encouragement, and I acknowledge that maybe it was
more for comfort than speaking the truth, but several mentioned my “grace and
courage.” While I would like to remember
myself handling adversity in this way, I can promise you that those words are
not accurate. Irrational, an emotional basketcase,
crazy maybe…but not grace and courage. Matthew can attest to the fact that I cried
more in the last six months than all the rest of my life put together for fear
that nothing would work. And grace definitely
doesn’t describe the most intense jealousy I have ever felt when I learned of
friends getting pregnant after just a couple of months of trying, or worse, by
accident. I say this now because if this
is the impression that I gave, then I am a pretty good actress. I am not proud that I handled the situation
in this manner, but I know that next time I face something tough, I will try to
be a little more courageous and a little more graceful.
I know all of these admissions paint me in far from
flattering light, but these are thoughts taken directly from my journal entries
over the last several months. I hope
others know that whatever they feel and however they need to get through a
tough time is okay. Even if you don’t
think that you know a couple struggling with something similar, you probably do
know them, so I encourage you to be sensitive about this possibility.
This all sounds so morbid now that my dreams have come
true. And no, I don’t think we would
change anything. If not for this past
year, I’m not sure DH (“da husband”…another standard abbreviation) and I would
have a stronger bond than we did two years ago.
I don’t think I would have gained new insight into what is comforting
and what is not. Had we not had to do
IVF, our chances of having twins would be significantly lower, and already
living without one of them seems unbearable.
And most importantly, we have had a hard-core, firsthand experience of
what an almighty God we serve and the miracles He can make happen. I thank Him every single day for the most
precious gifts He has ever blessed us with, and I thank Him for the journey it
took to get here. I pray that they
continue to grow big and healthy and that they enter the world strong (not too
soon!) and grow into happy, healthy children.
I go to sleep smiling every night.
