You are probably wondering why I haven't been posting a whole
lot lately about infertility . . . well, other than the fact that this past
week was gloriously stuffed full of parties, birthdays, work, and a spontaneous
visit from a world-traveling friend, I have attempted to push thoughts and
worries about our infertility struggles far from my mind - need I say,
"attempted."
After reading the
words, 'Not Pregnant,' on a pee stick in the last lingering days of August, I
lost all control. I sobbed and bawled uncontrollably for most of the day and it
felt good to rid my body of all the churning emotion that I could no longer
rein in. I cried in the shower and while I watched the morning news. I cried
and cared not for the snot streaming onto my pillow while in a fetal position
on my side of the bed until Bella, our calico cat, jumped up and joined me . .
. purring me to get happy. I cried when I told my mom I had yet another
negative test. I cried when I told Chad I couldn't do this anymore - subjecting
us to disappointment and heartbreak month after month. He said he wasn't ready
to give up yet. And, deep in my heart I also knew I wasn't quite ready to give
up. It was just so easy to imagine us without this burden.
It is more than
difficult to put into words the feelings and emotions that surge through my
body each month after a negative test. Some have asked why I cry like I do over
a negative pregnancy test. Not only is it disappointing, sad, and painful for
my own reasons: the missed opportunity to conceive, the absence of pregnancy,
the harsh reality that, again, our efforts did not succeed. These, and many
other feelings I cannot pin down at the moment are matched, if not exceeded, by
the very same feelings that Chad is experiencing. And, the fact that neither
one of us can do any better or change the circumstance - the fact that we are
helpless in the routine of our struggle is the most heartbreaking part. We are
doing anything, everything, and even more than what is expected of us to
conceive.
That evening,
after I could no longer cry, we went to the dollar theatre and enjoyed a funny,
often raunchy, movie that relieved our sadness for the last couple hours of the
day. I awoke the next morning with a renewed hope. Then, I waited and, yes, hoped that the
test was wrong and my period wouldn't come. (That darn hope just wouldn't go
away!) My cycle arrived a couple days later. And, then, I waited yet again to
give myself a few days to re-evaluate where we were in our progress, where I
really was in my outlook on our journey (aside from my passionate emotions that
were begging me to surrender a few days before), and where Chad was and what he
needed and felt about where we were on this journey. After talking with Chad,
thinking about it, pondering all these things in quiet moments each day, I
called the doctor's office on the fifth day of my cycle - the day every month I
usually call to request more medication and start the process all over again.
But, this time, I informed the nurse that I would be taking the month of September off from any
treatments. I tried my very best to not break down when I told her I was so
sick and tired of the disappointment, but I'm sure my quivering voice gave me
away. She told me she was sorry about the negative test and that she understood
why I wanted to take some time off . . . she agreed that it was probably a good
idea after she assured me our chances of conceiving wouldn't be effected by
taking a month off. (On a side note: The support and encouragement I have
received from the doctors, nurses, and medical staff at the clinic has been
lavishly and lovingly poured over Chad and me - for that I will be always
grateful.)
After I hung up
the phone, I experienced a few moments of doubting my decision - feeling like I
was giving up and allowing the pain to claim a victory over our hopes and
dreams. But, another voice, deeper still in my heart granted peace with my
decision and I made a conscious decision to put the disappointment, the defeat,
the struggle, the pain - I put it all away and looked forward to my favorite
month of the year. And, September, has once again met
my expectations for fun, celebration, cooler weather, and a wonderful
introduction to the holiday season. I have enjoyed my vacation from the
needles, the hot flashes the medicine brings, the midnight sweats the medicine
causes, the daily changes in my body that make me wonder if there is something
special going on inside my body.
So, in a few days,
I will call the clinic and request more medication so we can start all over
again because that thing with feathers remains perched in my soul.
Coming up soon, I
will elaborate on the treatments we have been trying in the last couple years
and what our options are after this month is up.
I hate that you are having to endure this roller coaster. I love you and I'm glad you have had the month off!
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