Infertility Awareness Week

It’s the excitement that came over us when we learned we were expecting, 

followed by pain and loss when it was all ripped away from us.

It’s yearning for the honor of growing a life, carrying to term, 

the ability to adequately care for our babies, and tangibly love them. 

It’s feeling like a failure as a woman and a mother, 

because my body couldn’t do what it was designed to do.

It's obsessing over each cycle, our timing, every symptom, our diets, and our bodies, 

only to find that it's never enough.

It's appointment after appointment for blood work, empty ultrasounds, invasive tests and procedures, 

drug prescriptions, and anything we can do to move forward.

It’s seeing the world through a darker lens. 

Instead of being carefree and optimistic, I stress, strive, and feel the need to expect the worst. 

Bitterness and anger wage a war against my heart and my joy. I don't feel like myself.

I struggle to find the balance between remaining hopeful
and not setting myself up for disappointment.

It’s an emotional roller coaster,

on which I climb to high heights and plummet to low lows,
sometimes in a matter of moments.

It's falling apart, pulling myself back together,
and setting myself up to fall apart all over again,

month after month, after month, after month, after month, after month...

It’s missing our babies, despite the fact that I only carried them for weeks,

and longing to embrace them just like every other parent I see!

It’s the isolation of invisible motherhood.

It’s the unrelenting battle for my faith. 

I wonder why God would intentionally begin a life, only to let it dissipate. 

It's easy to distrust him and distance myself. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t let go.

It’s continually fighting off the lies that God doesn’t see us, 

doesn’t honor our marriage, or doesn’t see us as capable parents.

It’s stepping into social situations and wondering 

if the full arms and expectant bellies all around me will trigger me into tears. 

It's feeling like death incarnate 

while being caught up in a parade of fertility, bursting with life and music. 

It’s having to fight for my relationshipsbecause I feel the sting of loss and struggle when I see my pregnant friends
and friends who are young parents. 

It’s asking God “WHY ME?” 

and then feeling stupid when I end up asking myself 

“Why not me?”

It’s a battle that I’m kind of glad we’re fighting, 

because I know it's doing something aside from adding depth and beauty to our story.

1 in 8 couples deal with infertility. 

We aren't alone. 

It's someone else you know.

The Golden Uterus has Spoken! Seeing a Specialist

The same day I buried our April baby, my best friend told me that she thought she was miscarrying as well. She lost her baby, and we were able to be broken-hearted together. When we were ready, we started to try again and we kept each other updated on our cycles. It was a strange gift, and I think we both felt less alone when all of the Fall pregnancy announcements were made.

By February 2017, my best friend had texted me with her happy news! I felt excited, and I had hope that even though it wasn't a successful cycle for us, that we would be pregnant together very soon, just like we'd always dreamed!

Despite all my hope, church started to get really hard. One of my friends who made their pregnancy announcement in the Fall was growing a sweet little bump. As soon as I noticed, I cried (like, embarrassing out loud sobbing that couldn't stop) through an entire service. More and more, the painful reminders of what we had lost were everywhere. It felt like wherever we went, we were the only childless or not pregnant couple in the room. 

As 2 more months of unsuccessful trying went by, hope felt a lot less like consistent comfort, perspective, and peace, and felt more like the thing that consistently strung me along and left me to bleed. 

Even though at the beginning of each cycle I was convinced I shouldn't get my hopes up, they were back up and soaring by the end of each cycle! I was so sure that each one was "the one". 

When my dreams of having our "little turkey" or "little butterball" around Thanksgiving 2017 were gobbled up by reality (See what I did there?), I finally felt desperate enough to call a doctor and get some help. We started seeing a fertility specialist on March 23rd.

Despite knowing that it meant I would have to do some of my least favorite things, (make phone calls, see doctors, get blood work and invasive tests done, etc.) I felt at ease knowing that they would check my hormone and progesterone levels and Rob's swimmers, make sure my uterus was in good shape, find out if I was ovulating properly, and that they would want to know ASAP if I got pregnant so that they could monitor everything! It felt like a big step in the right direction.

That Monday, it was time for the blood work to test my hormone levels. Being someone who HATES giving blood, this was a memorable experience.

Rob, being the sweet husband that he is, drove me to the Quest office. When it was my time, the nurse took me back, saying "We've got a lot to draw, honey!". She started grabbing hand fulls of viles. Right as I thought she HAD to be done, she said she had to get some more from another room! Another nurse walked by, saw all of the viles and gasped.

The nurse came back with the rest of the viles and asked me if I would pass out. Before I could finish the word "Probably!", she got me out of the little desk and asked me to lay down on a bed in the room. She prepped my arm and talked to me through the whole draw. I talked about my fondant job, my husband, my ring, how my bedroom used to be the same lime green color as the interior of the room, and who knows what else! I really ran my mouth, which is not something that I do normally. It wasn't so bad and it seemed to be over relatively quickly. I felt like a rock star when I walked out of there without passing out! They took 15 VILES!

Over the last year, we had lost both of my Mommoms. One of the thoughts that got me through the blood work was wanting to make my Mom into a Mommom, since a life without Mommoms just felt wrong. Our family was way overdue for some good news, and I dreamed of bringing joy to my grieving parents, siblings, and Poppop at the Easter table that year. Success at this cycle meant a December baby, which I joked I would lovingly refer to as "Baby Bertha Jessie Smith" in memory of my Mommoms, who were both born in December! 

Despite these joyful thoughts, I felt the weight of all of the sorrow. My life seemed to have turned into a perfect pattern of miscarriage, struggle to conceive, loss in the family, and more struggle to conceive. It was hard not to look around me and compare this season of grief and struggle to the lively and effortlessly happy seasons all of my friends seemed to be in.

Instead of making a pregnancy announcement that Easter, I made appointments for more blood work and another uncomfortable and bloody babyless ultrasound. The specialist talked me through the whole ultrasound and found plentiful eggs! On the day after Easter, Rob made love to a plastic cup and I had dye shot through my uterus. 

Egg hunts and uterus dying - A little too hilariously appropriate for Easter.

The HSG test was uncomfortable, but I have to admit it was pretty neat to watch the x-ray screen and watch the golden yellow colored dye flow through my (wonky looking) uterus! I'm guessing that many women don't get to see what their uterus looks like, nor have such an opportunity to go by the name of "the golden uterus". 

Take that, fertile Myrtles!

The specialist told us to make sure we definitely try after the HSG test, because it's common to get pregnant after it since it can "clean out" a uterus. I did some premature calculating on the pregnancy app (like I always do!) and discovered that success for that cycle meant that I would not only know I was pregnant by Mother's Day, but I would be due just a few days before my 30th birthday! Hopes and dreams danced in my head!

When the test results came in, everything looked pretty good. Rob's swimmers were healthy, and I had plenty of eggs. The problem? It seems I put the "late" in "ovulate". While my eggs were maturing, they weren't releasing as they should, from what I gathered. The specialist told us that I had a mild case of PCOS and a hypoactive thyroid. 

The hypoactive thyroid thing made total sense to me since the thyroid produces the hormones that are needed for ovulation and for supporting a pregnancy. It felt a little sad to know that my body could have been the thing that failed our babies.

I felt at ease as the specialist went through the possible future steps with us. He prescribed Levothyroxine to replace the hormones my thyroid wasn't producing enough of, as well as Clomid to help me ovulate. I started the Levothyroxine right away, and kept the Clomid prescription for a rainy day, knowing that it would mean more frequent visits to the specialist once I started it.

April 24th 2017

Expectancy, pain, and the sense of love and pride that come with motherhood were things I imagined I would feel on April 24th, 2017. 

It may not be in the way I wanted, but I still feel all of those things today. 

To my April baby,

I sat beside your grave today.
I arranged a little bouquet of flowers (and probably some weeds.. Only the prettiest though!) and placed them there.

Today was our estimated due date. At about this time, we would have held you in our arms and fallen deeper in love with you. You were our rainbow baby. Friends and family would have flocked to our sides to meet you and hold you and celebrate you. 

But instead, I sat under the tulip tree grieving your loss all alone. I think about the love and pride I have for you, and can only imagine how it would multiply if I got to see your sweet face and hold you in my arms, just like every other mommy I know. Our story is painfully different, and even though I know I'm not the only mommy with empty arms, it sure feels like it.

It's so hard to grieve your loss. It's my best guess that God intentionally and lovingly knit you together in my womb. That he gave you to us, but let you slip away from us for reasons I don't understand and struggle with on a regular basis.
Maybe you're with your big brother or sister, Poppop, Grampy, and both of my Mommoms.
I'm sure that if that's the case, you're getting plenty of loving attention and that you're in the best place you can be. 

I won't ever forget you and the short time we had together. I'm so proud of the fact that you existed. Even though I won't know you in this lifetime, I'm happy to carry you in my heart.

Somehow as I sat beside your grave today, I felt more thankfulness instead of sadness and anger. I know friends are praying for my hardened heart and believe that God is doing something through you. You have taught me to fight. You have given me the opportunity to fall in love with God all over again.

Rob came home with a surprise for us today.

You are still my pride and joy, although in a different way than I expected.