Monthly Archives: September 2012

Today I Hate Eggs

Uf.  We were all geared up for the fourth and final IUI this week, but the eggos just aren’t cooperating (no, autocorrect, I did not mean egos).  We had several follicles but just not enough that were big enough to feel confident in our last try.

I’m super thankful that our doctor helped us think through this decision; although great physiologically, she helped us to consider how we’d feel if we weren’t pregnant after an IUI this cycle.  She knows us (and infertile people) well enough to know that we would second guess ourselves and would have wished for a more optimal final round.  So, we’re waiting.

In a lot of ways this feels ridiculous because, honestly, I don’t think an IUI is going to work for us.  I don’t think that’s the problem or the solution.  Also, it feels excruciating to wait another six weeks (minimum) before knowing if the harder road of IVF or adoption is in our future.

So of course after this decision I’m running to the pharmacy to fill some prescriptions and while waiting for the first to be filled I do some shopping.  As I’m leaving the store, I get a call from my doctor following up on our decision so I’m juggling the phone call, my groceries, and my thoughts.  Once I’m a few miles from the store we decide to go forward with the trigger shot and prometrium this cycle, so she calls the script into another drug store near home.  Once there, I throw my bag in my trunk only to find that one of the eggs I just bought is oozing in my grocery bag.  I hate eggs.  Of all types.

Okay, now I’m just griping, but I must share this.  I wait for — count it — 45 minutes at the second pharmacy, they fill the second prescription, and notify me that they do not have the Ovidrel!  It is, however, available 20 minutes away, the opposite direction from my house.  I’m a weenie and fighting tears and thank them politely and answer my husband’s call, eating the animal cookies I bought while waiting because I haven’t eaten lunch, and Hubs volunteers to pick it up for me.  Thank you, dear husband.  I hate eggs, but I love him.

So, the two week wait turns into a six week wait.  Sure, there’s a chance it could happen this month without an IUI but I’m not holding my breath.  Plus that’s probably bad for fertility.  Uhhh, there was so much build up and emotion for this to be the final round, to have an idea of what moving forward would look like.  I just want this wait and this pain behind us, and I want to know we’re going to be parents, hopefully this decade.

Today I’m Baking

I just pulled my kuchen out of the oven.  No, that’s not infertility blogger code for something  related to follicles or fertility assistance devices.  Today I’m a little pissed, and so today I’m baking.

No particular reason really, but I’m just angry.  Not the road rage angry, more like the despondent, deep achey, silent cry angry.  I was thinking and praying this afternoon, giving myself a moment to really wonder, “What if this doesn’t happen?”  And the truth is, it feels unbearable.  As though something would happen and I would just dissolve in sadness.  My husband keeps talking about how he knows we will be parents and that in a few years will will look back with gratitude (not for infertility but for how it all panned out).

I’m not yet convinced.  I’m pretty worried that I never would get over it.  Yes, we will be parents by some means.  We’ll adopt if we aren’t able to conceive, but it does not feel humanly possible to wait two plus additional years before being a mother and having a baby in this home.  It seems like it would feel so empty and so agonizing, for so long or maybe forever.  There really isn’t a whole lot more to say about it — again, it’s the deep achey angry and our language falls short in representing it.  Maybe I should have more faith like Hubs does but I can’t imagine getting to a point where I don’t feel slighted and resentful should I never be given the gift of conceiving a child.

It’s hard to be angry with God.  I find myself feeling guilty about it and fearful of it simultaneously.  I know He can handle it on the one hand, but I’m also really really angry and thinking some things related to Him that I never have before.  Like how could He withhold this from me?  Why give me this desire and then not fulfill it?  What else am I supposed to do with it?  What am I doing wrong and why would He just be sitting around waiting until I figure it out?  Does He really have the ability to soothe and one day heal this deep deep sadness?  And what if it grows only deeper and greater?

I can’t say I can answer these questions, although it actually did feel satisfying to bring them into my awareness.  They’d been hiding out in my mind’s deep corners, there and affecting me but not yet ready to be dealt with.  So I did what I usually do about once a week, I cried and let myself feel fully and I asked Him, I pled with him, and this time I even pray-yelled at Him.

And once I’d let my crying run its course and figured out that the puppy wanted to bite and not comfort, I headed into the kitchen to bake mindlessly.  A kuchen.  Which, according to Real Simple is german for cake.  With apples I picked yesterday with my best pals in town, where we could just be ourselves and feel how we felt and say what we needed to say and be quiet when we needed to be quiet.  Which, I figure if I can be like that with them, I can be like that with God too.  And just be in process.  And be angry.  And not try to hide it.

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Today I Need Others’ Words

I’m reading through the Psalms now and am finding them incredibly comforting.  It’s almost eerie to hear David expressing such deep sorrow, questioning where God is, pleading with Him, asking if He even hears — my recent prayers almost verbatim.  (Well, okay, way more eloquent.)  I’m so glad I follow a God who is acquainted with suffering.  He can take my raw questioning and feelings, He’s not threatened or surprised by them.

I woke up feeling down and have been teary all day so I found myself returning to the Psalms throughout the day and simply writing them down in my journal, giving me words for prayer as I couldn’t generate any myself.  So I thought I would share some of those as well as a song we sing at my church that has reverberated in my mind the past several weeks.

“How long, oh Lord?  Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?
How long shall I take counsel in my soul,
having sorrow in my heart all day?
How long will my enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and answer me, oh Lord my God;
enlighten my eyes or I will sleep the sleep of death,
and my enemy will say, ‘I have overcome him.’
And my adversaries will rejoice when I am shaken.
But I have trusted in Your lovingkindness;
my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because He has dealt bountifully with me.” -Psalm 13

“Be gracious to me, oh Lord, for I am pining away;
heal me, oh Lord, for my bones are dismayed.
And my soul is greatly dismayed; but You, oh Lord — how long?
Return, oh Lord, rescue my soul; save me because of Your lovingkindness…
I am weary with my sighing,
every night I make my bed swim, I dissolve my couch with my tears…
The Lord has heard the voice of my weeping.
The Lord has heard my supplication, the Lord receives my prayer.” -Psalm 6

The sun comes up, it’s a new day dawning
It’s time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes

Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
I’ll worship Your holy name

You’re rich in love, and You’re slow to anger
Your name is great, and Your heart is kind
For all Your goodness I will keep on singing
Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find

And on that day when my strength is failing
The end draws near and my time has come
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending
Ten thousand years and then forevermore

Sing like never before
O my soul
I
‘ll worship Your holy name
Jesus, I’ll worship Your holy name
I’ll worship Your holy name

I cry every time I sing this song because it is a declaration to Him of choosing worship, which is so hard to do much of the time.  It’s something I often have to will myself to do.  And as the Psalms indicate, choosing worship doesn’t mean not doubting or the absence of anger or even feeling God close.  It’s choice, it’s deciding.  The Psalms so often end with promises, specifically of God moving towards us.  These moments of singing are heart-wrenching because I’m in anguish and yet there is also some degree of peace and trust.  That He is the actor in the story.  He is listening, it is His lovingkindness, He deals bountifully with us.

This song is called 10,000 Reasons (Matt Redman) and it’s a declaration of this very thing, that the Lord is at work all around us, in ways we have yet to discover.  It’s a song of expectation of what He will do.  “In the morning, oh Lord, You will hear my voice.  In the morning I will order my prayer to you and eagerly watch (Psalm 5:3).”

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Today I’m Numb

An early BFN came my way yesterday — for those of you not reading infertility blogs on a regular basis, that stands for big f-ing negative (pardon my french).  Hubs and I were trying to process last night but realized, there really isn’t anything to process.  It just sucks.  We’re just not pregnant.  Again.  For like the 24th time.

I’m trying to muster up something inside of me to care about my really full workday ahead.  I really need the Lord for that one.

I’m also realizing this “no” feels like the beginning of the end.  If we decide to do one more IUI it will be our last and so this time next month we will know if we’re going to have to move on to adoption or IVF.  That’s looking pretty likely.  I’m trying to have a realistic and faithful amount of hope but also am preparing myself for that next step.

Enough of that depressing rant.  I’m treating myself to a chai latte as big as my head on my way into work this morning.

.   .   .   .   .

So I stepped away from blogging to get a call from my doctor — who called me back herself, by the way — and, in the meantime, the old clinic beeped in.  Chaotic morning calling doctors’ offices, playing phone tag, and I’m actually on hold as I “speak” to get an appointment nailed down.

However, I just have to complain here for a moment.  What’s worse than having to go to work when you’re super sad to see six patients, have a meeting, and class back to back?  When your first patient comes in and immediately announces that she’s pregnant.  Yep, that’s right people.  On her first month trying.  I just prayed “Jesus, fill me.  Help me.  Help me to be what this patient needs for 50 minutes, help me to get through these 50 minutes.”  So I just did.  I survived, and I even think I was helpful to her in that time.

Taking this day one step at a time.

Reblog: Time Management and Infertility Treatment

http://theinfertilitytherapist.blogspot.com/2012/09/time-management-and-infertility.html

It’s hard to describe how much energy, time, money, thought, emotion, etc. infertility steals from you, so I worry that people don’t understand my not being able to do things I normally would.  I worry that people might think I’m obsessed with this and it’s all I think about, or that I should just toughen up and get it together, or maybe they just don’t realize what a toll it takes.  It’s a low-grade, always there pain at best, but of course there also are the really hard days, then there’s the time to make appointments, research treatments, process options, go to appointments, reschedule all the things you had planned for that time already, track down and pick up prescriptions, talk with your partner about decisions, and if you’re lucky, find time to let yourself feel what you’re feeling.  That’s a lousy description of it, but it’s the best I can do for now.

This post, from an infertility blog by a therapist, is so relevant to the way I’m beginning to think of things.  Working to conceive is part of my job right now and so it deserves and needs corresponding time and attention, and even to be a priority over other things I feel like I “should” be doing.  The last thing I want is to look back on treatments one day and wish I would have devoted more to them.

Love this validation today, and willing to half-a&% it for a while.

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