There have been months in my past where I wouldn't buy tampons, because it may jinx myself. Other months, I would buy a pregnancy test only to find the evidence that I wasn't while using the test. Month after month passed, then year after year, and we still have empty arms and wounded hearts. What are we doing wrong? Surely, we aren't doing it wrong, right?
We slowly came out to a few friends and family that we just weren't having any luck. We shared with them the cold hard facts. We were having unprotected sex with an expected outcome of pregnancy. We received all kinds of advice by well meaning friends and family, ranging from "It will happen when the time is right," "just relax," and "these things take time." While everyone was sharing their tips, and how easy it was for them stories, what we didn't share was our deepest fears, biggest desires, and where we were emotionally. It was too difficult to put out there. Later we wished we had shared this more with people. Perhaps our lives would have been different in various ways. Regardless, it stings that friends and family are working on their first, second, and third pregnancies. Perhaps if we weren't so guarded about our feelings in the first place, they would respect them more. Perhaps not, because when dealing with an infertile person, there is no handbook of what to say and what not to. Either way, pregnancy announcements, baby showers, and the like are all extremely difficult. I don't begrudge them, I don't refuse to go, because everybody else's life must go on. It's just very difficult to accept that when yours feels like it is crushing down on you, and all that is left to do is fall into a heap on the floor and sob.
Now, we are past the "perhaps we need help" stage, and are in the "what's the deal?" phase. Layer by layer we reveal what is truly a matrix of issues, and like an onion each layer comes with tears. Not only do we still have the raw emotions of repeated monthly failure, but now the fear, anxiety, and stress that comes with each new test. Largely due to the fact, that each new test reveals one more hurdle that we will have to jump. Most people can easily conquer a short sprint, but few can accomplish a marathon.
So, here we are running...running scared, running towards what we hope is a brass ring. When, the doctor said, "Ok, here's what's wrong with you..." My heart sunk and broke into a million little pieces. I truly expected to hear, "Oh, it's just a little ovulation problem. No worries." Naive. My innocence is lost.
My diagnosis, and lack there of, confuses me daily. How will this actually work for us? Sometimes I feel like a rock climber, whose missing gear. A trapeeze artist without a net. My uterus isn't the right shape. I can find women out there with my condition who successfully achieve pregnancy and even have children. I also find women who have six or seven miscarriages before they have those children. How will I find that courage? Can I beat the high odds of miscarriage and preterm labor? How will I manage IVF, when I can only transfer a single embryo? How can I be brave enough to tell people how I really feel? How can I tell them that I am so scared? How can I tell them I'm not sure how I can dig deep enough inside of myself and find the courage I need?
So, now I think back to the well meaning advice of "just relax," "these things take time," and "It will happen when the time is right." Well, relaxing is damn near impossible. Life always throws things our way that tend to complicate it. You could live on a deserted island, and you'd wonder where you are getting food. You could be a billionaire with ten children, and you'd worry if you were raising them right. There is one thing you can bank on in life, and that is stress. No way around it. You can learn to minimize it, but damn it lack of it won't change my diagnosis. These things do take time, but time doesn't make babies, perform IUIs, IVF, or perform laparoscopies. The timing couldn't be better than right now, and I don't see a stork circling my house, or the homes of my fellow infertile friends who deserve children as much as we do. So, I guess I'm just getting prescriptions I can't fill.
These days I can't plan from one day to the next. My amazing neighbor will call and ask what my plans are for the day, and sometimes all I can get out is, "I'm going to shower." Wow. Other times I feel confident, and can allow myself to venture into that place that is guarded with high walls. The place where I store my visions of my future child and all of the hopes and dreams I have for them. Perhaps one day my walls will come down, and reveal that brass ring I am so desperately searching for. No need for sympathy my fellow waiting womb warriors, just feeling the need to embrace what I'm feeling right now.
