The human body never ceases to amaze me. We are like a tapestry with hundreds and thousands of tiny little threads that interweave to make up the whole. When even one thread gets pulled out of alignment, the tapestry can completely unravel. Likewise, when even one tiny piece of our bodies are out of sync, it affects the whole body – and that makes conception (which is already a slim chance) next to impossible.
I know I have been quiet for about two weeks. Sorry about that. I just need to take some time to get my bearings. You see, my hubby and I thought I was pregnant (ah, how many times have I uttered those words in the past 5 years?), so for one of the weeks, I was too anxious and (naively) hopeful so I didn’t want to write about anything and jinx it. Then, when I got my period, well – the second week was a period of mourning. By now, you would think I would not let myself get too hopeful. I know, it’s kind of a morbid thing to say, but when you wish for something so much and then have to watch the dream get dashed over and over, it really takes a psychological toll.
So, no, I’m not pregnant. But, I think this is a positive step (or at least that’s what I am trying to convince myself of) because of a few reasons:
- (And, to me, most important,) I was not on any medication that enhances “pregnancy symptoms” (like Clomid). I’ve done that before, and I loathe Clomid because (before I figured out that the drug can make you feel like you’re pregnant when you’re not) I would get so excited only to be so completely wrong.
- I had stronger symptoms then those times on Clomid.
- I had symptoms I never had before.
That tells me that the supplements I am taking must be getting all the out-of-whack things in my body straightened out. Not quite there yet, but I must be getting closer, right?
In the meantime I have been instructed to begin checking ovulation. So far this month I haven’t had any indication other than a faint pink line on cycle day 9. Oh, and that’s another thing. My periods seem to be getting closer together. They are averaging 26 days, and I have no clue if this is bad or not. I guess it doesn’t matter if I’m not even ovulating. Or maybe I am ovulating but the hormones are not getting to the level they need to be…
Like the title states: I am hormonal. There are so many hormones that play a part in this process and with my autoimmune disorder, it’s so hard to tell what’s working and what isn’t. Progesterone, estrogen, thyroid hormones, etc. Ugh. And, I have an appointment to check my thyroid levels next week (here’s hoping they’re correct!).
I feel like an old puzzle that you pull out and start to put together, only to find at the very end that the last couple of pieces are missing, and you can’t finish it.
Yep, that’s exactly how I feel.
A new baby is like the beginning of all things – wonder, hope, a dream of possibilities. -Eda J. Le Shan
I think we have all, at one point or another, wanted something so much that it consumes us. The hope becomes a dream, the dream becomes an obsession, and the obsession becomes an all-encompassing addiction.
We start to neglect the ones we love. We start to neglect ourselves. Daily, I have to force myself to remember that I am a wife, a daughter, a sister, and a friend. The title of mother does not make up my entire identity, and I should never shove aside those other roles because they are here, and they are now, and there are people who love me and need me to give them my time and my love. I owe them that much, and I cannot free myself to be the best wife (daughter/sister, etc.) possible if all my energy is focused on the one thing I am not.
It isn’t easy. In fact, it may be the hardest thing I have ever had to do. The desire is so strong inside me that it constantly threatens to burst forth. And, my body has become my worst enemy. When you struggle through infertility, and you want it so bad, you start to see things that aren’t there. Phantom symptoms. Wishful thinking. “I’ve got all the signs, I must be pregnant!”
Infertility treatment makes it no easier. Many of the drugs we take literally enhance PMS symptoms (which, coincidentally, are very similar to pregnancy symptoms. As if things aren’t complicated enough, let’s make those identical!). I can remember taking Clomid before an IUI and then, during the two-week-wait, thinking, “Oh my gosh, I’ve never experienced [enter symptom here] before, this must be it!” Only to be severely disappointed; often after being an entire week late (which I never am).
Yeah, infertility sucks.
Unless you have been through it, infertility is also not an easy thing to describe. I cannot put into words the immense sense of loss and longing. Or, the feeling of being irrevocably broken. The inadequacy, like you have failed your significant other. It’s like treading water in the middle of the ocean. You keep moving your limbs and pray that you see land, but all around you is water. The only thing you can do is try to keep from being pulled under.
Shattered dreams in
Remnants, fragments, incomplete.
Hope persists in
Woven threads of
Dreams and wishes long thought dead.
Prayers and vows of
Wanting more than words can say.
Breathe in. Hold on.
Gather strength to
Pick up. Brush off. Try again.
I cannot watch Sarah McLaughlin ASPCA commercials, nor can I walk through PetSmart during pet adoption days. Everyone has a kryptonite, and animals are mine. I am the girl who falls in love with a dog after the first nanosecond of introduction, who would, given the chance, adopt every single animal I came across. It’s not a compulsion… I just really have a heart for animals. I’ve said on numerous occasions that my pets are my fur babies, and it’s true. They are more than just animals to me. They are my family.
When it comes to children, my reaction is really no different. I cannot hold a baby without them taking a little piece of my heart. Four years as a preschool teacher taught me that even the most seemingly unlovable child will grab onto my heart with grubby little hands and I am just completely head-over-heels.
In high school, I had the opportunity to go with a group in our church to Central America. The whole trip was an experience I will never forget, but one particular scene has dug itself deep into my memories. Just a quick, tiny little thing, but one day we were performing at a school, and there were so many young children around us. A good friend of mine had picked up a little girl, no more than four, and placed her on his hip. Her tiny little arms wrapped around his neck and her big eyes looked up at him while she said something in Spanish. I was taking Spanish for my high school language course, so he looked to me and asked, “What did she say?”
I blinked back tears and replied, “She asked, ‘Would you be my daddy?'”
Only a teenager at that time, yet I wanted to take that little girl home with me. So, naturally, I do not look on the idea of adoption with disdain or trepidation. Would I like to have my own child, my own blood, who looks a bit like my husband and me? Lord knows how much. But does that mean I would be resentful if I had to go the adoption route?
Not a bit.
Families come in all shapes, sizes, and forms. Love is stronger than the blood that binds us. I would love an adopted child no less that one created inside of me. I know that some people don’t feel that way, and that’s fine. We are all created with different things that speak to our hearts. But I do want to try everything in my power to have at least one child through traditional means. I want to have that experience.
I feel I have the right to that.
Maybe I shouldn’t feel that way. God knows better than we do what we need. As much as I want it, maybe I am just not meant to. And I’ll be at peace with that revelation in time.
Just not right now. I can’t give up on that dream just yet.