I'm soo sorry. I really am. I'm sorry that the pain of the last year has changed me. I'm sorry that I seem to be angry and stressed all the time. I'm sorry if you've tried calling me and I ignored you. Or avoided your eyes at church when you tried to get my attention. I'm sorry if I never texted you back. I promise It's not you, It's me. Sometimes I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to talk about how I'm doing. I'm sad. I'm frustrated. I'm tired. I feel like a failure, and there's only soo many times I can deal with the pity in people's eyes. Sometimes I'm soo stressed that I honestly forget that you've called me. I'm overwhelmed. I'm hormonal. I feel like I'm going crazy.
I'm sorry I wouldn't come to your baby shower. I'm happy for you. I promise. I'm just sad for me, and I don't like being sad. I'm angry because people look at me like they pity me, and I don't like being angry. I don't like being pitied.
I'm sorry you're uncomfortable around me. I'm sorry that I was open with you about my infertility and now you don't talk to me. I'm sorry you feel guilty that you have kids and I don't. That wasn't my intention. It was just one of the few times I wanted to talk. I thought it would help build a friendship.
I'm sorry I told you I couldn't go out to lunch with you. I really do like spending time with you. But I'm on a budget, and it rarely includes spontaneous outings with friends. All of our money goes to infertility treatments. In Vitro Fertilization isn't cheap, and insurance doesn't cover it. In fact, insurance hardly covers any form of infertility treatment. So when I politely decline an invitation, it's not because I hate you. It's just that I don't have the money for luxuries like that right now.
I'm sorry for cancelling plans we had. I'm not a flake, I promise. I didn't know my medication would effect me like this. I'd rather be hanging out with you and doing something exciting, but I'm afraid to leave the house. I'm soo tired. I have migraines so bad that I feel like puking. I hate having to find a bathroom stall just to stick myself with needles. I feel like a heroin addict.
I'm sorry you were worried to tell me that you were pregnant. I never
wanted it to be like this. Had I know it would be this difficult, I
would have never have brought it up. I like when good people have
children. I think good people should have more children. Just because
you get a baby, doesn't mean there is one less for me.
I'm sorry I won't sit next to you at church. I love your family. I think they are perfect. But I don't want to be sad at church. It's petty, I know. I'm sad when I see my husband playing with little kids. I'm sad that I can't give him that. I want to be carrying around my own little blue eyed/blonde babies. I want to raise my own children to serve others and be missionaries.
I'm sorry that I feel this way. I know better. I know there's an Eternal Plan. I know that if I'm obedient and faithful that all my losses will be made up. I know that not being able to have biological children is not the end of the world. I know that I just need to be patient. I know this. There is nothing you can say to make the pain go away. Believe me, you've tried. And I'm grateful.
I'm grateful for friends that have let me come over to vent when I was finally ready. I'm grateful for late night ice cream runs and visiting teachers. I'm grateful for my dog who accepts the duties of being my only child. I'm grateful for a husband who never complains and tells me that everything is going to be ok. I'm grateful for co-workers who don't make me feel guilty for leaving work early. I'm grateful for a family that encourages me to keep going. I'm grateful for science and heating pads. I'm grateful for character band-aids and 25 gauge needles. I'm grateful for that nurse who cared. I'm grateful for heated seats and acupuncture.
I should be grateful for my trials, but I'm not quite there yet. For now, I'm just sorry.
Part 6- Hope
Hope is a word that I've always associated with faith. The Book of Mormon teaches us that "if a man have faith he must needs have hope; for without faith there cannot be any hope" (Moroni 7:42). Faith and hope get us out of bed each morning. We hope for something, and we put our faith in ourselves and the Lord that it will happen. Unfortunately (and fortunately...) sometimes the things we hope for aren't necessarily what the Lord has in mind for us at the moment. Sometimes that hope gets dragged out longer than we'd like. Sometimes it wavers. Sometimes we're not sure if we have the same hope that we once had. And sometimes hope leaves your crying on the kitchen floor because you just wanted it to leave you alone.
Two weeks seems like a long time to wait just to know if your whole life is going to change. But we did it. I went to work, I volunteered, I kept the dog alive. The terrible irony of the Progesterone is that it mimics pregnancy symptoms. So even if you feel nauseous, moody, or bloated, you don't know if it's an early pregnancy symptom, or side effects of the tablets you get to insert every 6 hours. You want to think that you're pregnant, but you don't want to "get your hopes up."
Simply peeing on a stick doesn't work with In Vitro. All the hormones that you've been on for months have now infiltrated your system, and only a blood test will be able to tell you conclusively if you are pregnant. We had an appointment arranged at our local Military clinic for a blood draw. I'm still super grateful that I didn't have to drive to Walter Reed for these. In fact, I work 30 second away from this clinic. I just had to take my lunch break and walk across the street. Sort of a blessing in disguise. Anyway...
I did the blood test then went back to work. I was a wreck. I knew the phone call was coming that would change everything, and I didn't want to answer. I could see what the hormones were doing to me. My anxiety was through the roof. If someone looked at me wrong I broke down in tears. If the test was negative I wouldn't be able to keep myself together. So I did what anyone in my situation would do.... I made Dale take the call. I knew they would call both the numbers on file. So when the call came I simply ignored it. Ok, it wasn't simple, and I was still a wreck all day. But I had put off the inevitable for a few more hours.
When I got home I tried to act casual. Tried to look like whatever he was about to tell me was no big deal. "I'm pregnant? That's nice. I better go walk to dog." Or something along those lines. If only. It was more along the lines of this...
"Do you want to know the results?"
"If you want to give them to me..."
"It's not a negative. But it's not a positive."
...
...
...
"What the hell does that mean."
"It means that your HCG numbers are positive, but not very high. You need to take another blood test in a few days to see if the numbers go up."
Should I be excited? Should I be happy? I had no idea. Months and months of agony, stress, and pain leading up to this moment.... and I had nothing. Nothing but hope. Hope that was about to be dragged out for weeks when I really just wanted it dead.
The next blood test was worse. Dale took the call again. "The numbers went up slightly. You might be pregnant, but not very pregnant. Not where you should be. You'll need to take another blood test in a few days."
*FUN FACT* you can be pregnant and not pregnant at the same time!! Sometimes pregnancy tests are both a YES and a NO! How cool is that?!
Blood tests again.
And Again. For days. With symptoms that could either be early pregnancy or spotty period. Weird colored blood and nausea for hours. Terrible things that ultimately gave your a strange sense of both hope and failure. At this point I would have preferred a solid "no" over what was going on. On one occasion, I actually lost feeling in my legs and fell. Like actually fell to the ground. I thought that only happened to weak women in the movies. Nope.
Then Finally I was brave enough to take the call myself, "You're HCG levels are decreasing. I'm sorry, you are no longer pregnant. You'll need to get a daily blood test until the numbers get below 5, then we can start you on the next cycle to do it again. I'm soo sorry. Do you need anything from me?"
I assured the nurse I was fine. I needed to be fine. I needed to walk back into work and continue like nothing had happened. I used to be a stoic person. Where had that part of me gone? I think she was buried beneath piles of Lupron bottles, Gonal-F needles, and Menopur vials. She definitely didn't show up for work that day. What was left of me was going to have to fend for herself. So I went back to my desk. I started working, then I lost it.
Not in a "sobbing hysterical" way. I don't do that. But in a heart pounding, adrenaline rushing panic attack that was about to pull the ground out from under me. I knew I couldn't go to my boss and tell him I needed to go home. Just the thought of dealing with his questions made me panic more. Do I just walk out and go home without telling anyone? Who does that? Thankfully I do have some great co-workers, and after a few moments of silent horror I told one of them what had just happened. Without missing a beat, she turned me around and had me out the door with all my things. "I'll write your leave slip and get it signed. Call the nurse back when you can and have her fax a doctors note."
I don't remember much of the drive. Thankfully I remembered that Tiberius was at Doggy Day Care on base, so I went and got him. And of course there was a lovely "call me, I need a doctors note," text from my boss. But I made it.
And you know what I learned? Sometimes things just suck. Ok, honestly. Everything can be going perfect, you can be doing everything you're supposed to do.... and it still doesn't work. This might seem obvious to everyone else, but I don't usually fail when I set my mind up to do something. How is it possible that I can go above and beyond what I'm supposed to do and have it still not work out? Well, such is life. The control freak has no power when it comes to forcing an embryo to attach to her uterine wall. It's stupid. I know.
And my Hope? It's shaken. My faith? It's seen better days. But I'm constantly reminded that my hope and faith can't be in me alone (because we've all seen how well that worked out...), but it has to be grounded in something stronger. Something constant. It has to be in the Savior and His atonement, and the promise that "all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good."
So we wait, and try again. Because mamma didn't raise no quitter.
Two weeks seems like a long time to wait just to know if your whole life is going to change. But we did it. I went to work, I volunteered, I kept the dog alive. The terrible irony of the Progesterone is that it mimics pregnancy symptoms. So even if you feel nauseous, moody, or bloated, you don't know if it's an early pregnancy symptom, or side effects of the tablets you get to insert every 6 hours. You want to think that you're pregnant, but you don't want to "get your hopes up."
Simply peeing on a stick doesn't work with In Vitro. All the hormones that you've been on for months have now infiltrated your system, and only a blood test will be able to tell you conclusively if you are pregnant. We had an appointment arranged at our local Military clinic for a blood draw. I'm still super grateful that I didn't have to drive to Walter Reed for these. In fact, I work 30 second away from this clinic. I just had to take my lunch break and walk across the street. Sort of a blessing in disguise. Anyway...
I did the blood test then went back to work. I was a wreck. I knew the phone call was coming that would change everything, and I didn't want to answer. I could see what the hormones were doing to me. My anxiety was through the roof. If someone looked at me wrong I broke down in tears. If the test was negative I wouldn't be able to keep myself together. So I did what anyone in my situation would do.... I made Dale take the call. I knew they would call both the numbers on file. So when the call came I simply ignored it. Ok, it wasn't simple, and I was still a wreck all day. But I had put off the inevitable for a few more hours.
When I got home I tried to act casual. Tried to look like whatever he was about to tell me was no big deal. "I'm pregnant? That's nice. I better go walk to dog." Or something along those lines. If only. It was more along the lines of this...
"Do you want to know the results?"
"If you want to give them to me..."
"It's not a negative. But it's not a positive."
...
...
...
"What the hell does that mean."
"It means that your HCG numbers are positive, but not very high. You need to take another blood test in a few days to see if the numbers go up."
Should I be excited? Should I be happy? I had no idea. Months and months of agony, stress, and pain leading up to this moment.... and I had nothing. Nothing but hope. Hope that was about to be dragged out for weeks when I really just wanted it dead.
The next blood test was worse. Dale took the call again. "The numbers went up slightly. You might be pregnant, but not very pregnant. Not where you should be. You'll need to take another blood test in a few days."
*FUN FACT* you can be pregnant and not pregnant at the same time!! Sometimes pregnancy tests are both a YES and a NO! How cool is that?!
Blood tests again.
And Again. For days. With symptoms that could either be early pregnancy or spotty period. Weird colored blood and nausea for hours. Terrible things that ultimately gave your a strange sense of both hope and failure. At this point I would have preferred a solid "no" over what was going on. On one occasion, I actually lost feeling in my legs and fell. Like actually fell to the ground. I thought that only happened to weak women in the movies. Nope.
Then Finally I was brave enough to take the call myself, "You're HCG levels are decreasing. I'm sorry, you are no longer pregnant. You'll need to get a daily blood test until the numbers get below 5, then we can start you on the next cycle to do it again. I'm soo sorry. Do you need anything from me?"
I assured the nurse I was fine. I needed to be fine. I needed to walk back into work and continue like nothing had happened. I used to be a stoic person. Where had that part of me gone? I think she was buried beneath piles of Lupron bottles, Gonal-F needles, and Menopur vials. She definitely didn't show up for work that day. What was left of me was going to have to fend for herself. So I went back to my desk. I started working, then I lost it.
Not in a "sobbing hysterical" way. I don't do that. But in a heart pounding, adrenaline rushing panic attack that was about to pull the ground out from under me. I knew I couldn't go to my boss and tell him I needed to go home. Just the thought of dealing with his questions made me panic more. Do I just walk out and go home without telling anyone? Who does that? Thankfully I do have some great co-workers, and after a few moments of silent horror I told one of them what had just happened. Without missing a beat, she turned me around and had me out the door with all my things. "I'll write your leave slip and get it signed. Call the nurse back when you can and have her fax a doctors note."
I don't remember much of the drive. Thankfully I remembered that Tiberius was at Doggy Day Care on base, so I went and got him. And of course there was a lovely "call me, I need a doctors note," text from my boss. But I made it.
And you know what I learned? Sometimes things just suck. Ok, honestly. Everything can be going perfect, you can be doing everything you're supposed to do.... and it still doesn't work. This might seem obvious to everyone else, but I don't usually fail when I set my mind up to do something. How is it possible that I can go above and beyond what I'm supposed to do and have it still not work out? Well, such is life. The control freak has no power when it comes to forcing an embryo to attach to her uterine wall. It's stupid. I know.
And my Hope? It's shaken. My faith? It's seen better days. But I'm constantly reminded that my hope and faith can't be in me alone (because we've all seen how well that worked out...), but it has to be grounded in something stronger. Something constant. It has to be in the Savior and His atonement, and the promise that "all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good."
So we wait, and try again. Because mamma didn't raise no quitter.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)