A Fork in the Road

August is finally over! Hip, hip, hooray!!

August is not my favorite month. It is miserably hot and humid and school starts back, which is insanely stressful.

This August also had two other negative factors. When I took Clomid for the first time last November, I of course looked up when the due date would be if I conceived that month. The baby would have been due on August 9th, my mother-in-law's birthday. The idea of that made me so happy. I adore my mother-in-law (she is the most amazing, loving, kind hearted, encouraging lady I have ever known), and nothing would have meant more to me than to have had a baby on her birthday. I hated giving her her birthday present this year tucked in a gift bag when I wanted to give her a gift wrapped in a soft, little blanket. In addition to that, the negative pregnancy test earlier in the month has not been easy to get past.

However, we're to a new month, and it felt good to flip that calendar page this afternoon. As I skimmed the new page before me, my eyes went to next Monday's box. In big letters was "NO SCHOOL!!!" and right under that was "Dr.'s appointment for progesterone shot." That shot would induce a new cycle, and we would return to our scheduled treatments. Hmmm...

I seem to have lost a bit of my fighting spirit. As the months of continuous treatments have gone by, I don't think I realized the courage that's needed in each step. Now that I've had a month's break, I find myself sinking cowardly away from this battle. Don't get me wrong; my desire to have a baby has done nothing but continue to grow. I want a baby, with all my heart, but the idea of beginning another round of infertility treatment is scary. Well, terrifying. Needles have not bothered me since I was a very little girl, and you would think the more you got stuck, the less you would care; however, now I cringe when I smell rubbing alcohol! The pills, the shots, the appointments, the blood work, the ultrasounds...I don't know if I can do it. Honestly, I don't know if it's those things that overwhelm me or if it's knowing that you can go through all that and still fail that is getting me. I can't imagine getting that phone call again that tells me I'm not pregnant. I don't know if I can handle that again. I've always been told that God never gives you more than you can handle, but I feel like He's really starting to push those limits with me. I feel like a house that's been through an earthquake and could collapse at any moment.

So, I find myself struggling to once again decide what to do. Decision making isn't one of my strengths, but I have had a lot of practice in this journey...Do I go to the doctor about my irregular cycles?...Do I take Clomid?...Do we switch to a specialist?...Do I take estrogen to make my uterus grow?...Do we move on to injectibles?...Those other decisions came pretty easy to me. Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes! Whatever I have to do to get that baby growing! But I can't make that baby start growing. No specialist, shots, drugs, IUI's, or anything else is going to bring that child I so greatly desire to me. If we are meant to be parents, God will make us parents in His time. So is there even a point in going to a specialist? At the same time, why were we so obviously led to this doctor if we're not supposed to be with her? I have reached that fork in the road once again, and I just don't know which way to go.

One Little Flower

I have a child in my class this year who I have to share with you. Both of his biological parents did not want him and/or couldn't take care of him, so he lives with another relative (who seems to be doing very well with him). As I read over his registration papers before school started, it was mentioned that he has behavior problems and might be getting a behavior diagnosis. Great. The idea of having a child with a behavior problem was not appealing. I don't need extra stress right now. I tried to have him taken out of my class. I dreaded meeting this family at Meet the Teacher.

Are you noticing the selfishness in those past few sentences? I hope so. It appears that I have forgotten that I don't teach for myself; I teach for the children, all the children, especially the ones who need someone to love them and take care of them, if only for a few hours a day.

After meeting the guardian on Monday, I felt some relief. At least she knows there's a problem. Maybe if he takes medication, he'll be fine. Etc. I am so ashamed of those thoughts.

On Thursday, the child did great, and I breathed a sigh of relief. One day down, 179 to go. Friday, everything was going great, and I was beginning to question if this child really did have a behavior problem. Then, prepare yourself for what comes next...

I took the class outside to take their pictures. This child was towards the back of the line. When I got the class to the picture spot, he walked up to me, and he held his hand out to me. Inside his hand was one, little, beautiful flower. He handed me the flower he had stopped to pick along the way, and his face was beaming. At some point along the walk, he saw that flower and decided his judgmental, selfish teacher deserved it. This child I had labeled and tried to get taken out of my class picked me a flower. Oh, how my heart was humbled.

I judged a book by its cover, and had I put that book down like I wanted to, I would have missed one of the most beautiful lessons I've learned in a long time.

Sick

What a week! I have a cold (who gets a cold in August?). I started my period, which would normally be exciting, except for the not-so-exciting news I got Tuesday when I found out that my pitiful reproductive system has decided to mass produce cysts all over itself. School started back, which has resulted in a 60 hour work week (I know that's not abnormal for a lot of people, but I'm out of shape right now). Sometimes (each August) I wonder how insane I am to willingly be a kindergarten teacher. Today is Friday, and exhaustion has settled over every ounce of my body. My head is aching. My feet are covered in blisters. I can't smell because my nose is so stopped up, and I have no voice left from coughing.

I fought this cold aggressively because I simply don't have time for it. At first I blamed it on last week's meltdowns. Then I blamed it on allergies. After a week, I accepted that I had caught a cold in August. I am sick (and obviously contagious since Karl now has it). Tonight I looked up the definition of "sick", and this is what I found:

• -affected with disease or ill health

-spiritually or morally unsound or corrupt
-sickened by strong emotion, filled with disgust or chagrin, depressed and longing for something
-mentally or emotionally unsound or disordered
-incapable of producing profitable yields of a crop

Wow, it is like I found a definition of myself. As I have researched and written about my experience with infertility, I have never liked how the terms "diagnosed," "treatments," "disease," "illness," etc. are used with infertility. I feel like those terms are reserved for people who are sick. It was hard for me to accept that infertility is an "illness" encompassed from many different "diseases" that are "diagnosed" and need "treatments." When I first found out about the PCOS, it was hard for me to admit, just as it has been this week with the cold, that something was wrong with my body, something that only God could make better. Although the physical pain is typically minimal, the emotional pain is severe. To live each day with a heart so heavy that you feel you could drown and to have at once thought that on this day you would be holding your child in your arms and not even be pregnant is nothing short of excruciating. The pain that infertility causes breaks you down, bit by bit. Or is that God? Is the stripping of each layer and shattering of each plan you devised God's handiwork? Is that God hammering away at my weary heart trying to fix a broken, sinful soul? Without a doubt, I believe God did this to me. God made me infertile. He purposefully created me with dysfunctional ovaries. He intentionally created me in a way that I would have no choice but to turn to Him in my darkest time. Although somedays I feel like I'm being punished, when I'm completely honest with myself, I know that my infertility is a tool God is using to reach inside my heart and let Himself in. It is hard for me to right now imagine that any reason or purpose or plan is worth this heartache, but God is teaching me trust and patience. He is teaching me how to be dependent on Him. I can only imagine what else He is teaching me and using this for. I would be lying if I said I was at peace with this. I would be lying if I said that I didn't fight against God daily on this. However, in all honesty, I know God will see me though this and I'm choosing to believe that somehow, someway God will bring me joy again.

Cysts, Cysts, and More Cysts

My ovaries are loaded down with cysts right now. After I ovulated, I had mild OHSS (ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome), and apparently all those empty follicles filled back up with fluid. I had 4 cysts measuring over 1 cm on my right side and then a lot of smaller ones, and I had a massive cyst on my left ovary that was actually so big we couldn't see my ovary on the ultrasound screen. The nurse said they could give me painkillers to help with the pain, but I'm actually not in any pain or discomfort whatsoever. She was shocked. In all honesty, it looked like I had swallowed a balloon. After seeing all the cysts on my right side, I knew I was going to have to take a break, but when she moved the ultrasound wand to the left side and the entire screen filled up with a huge black oval, I almost fainted, and Karl gripped my hand very tightly. We had never seen anything like that, and it was not a good feeling. I asked the nurse what that was, and she said she wasn't sure but was hoping it was just a cyst. (Praise the Lord it was.) I was terrified. She kept moving that wand, and that big black oval wasn't ending. It is a really big cyst. She said it might take a couple months, even three, for it to go away. I can't take my medicines until it's down to under 3 cm and the others are gone. I'm hoping I can get there in a month. This is a good time to take a little break since I went back to work this week, but I don't want or need an extended break. I'm not going to count days or actively "try" this cycle, but I am taking an herbal vitamin called "Fertility Blend". I've never been a big believer in herbal treatments, but I thought I would give this a whirl. Maybe it'll work.

Bitter Sadness

Today I found out for sure that I am not pregnant. Although I already knew, that phone call this afternoon still packed a punch. Up until today Karl wouldn't believe I wasn't pregnant. He said he thought I was, and for two weeks he has rubbed my belly and called me "mama", and held on to the hope that we were finally where our hearts so greatly desired us to be. And then today came.

There just aren't words that describe the heartache that this has all caused. I hate this all so much. I hate what it's done to me. I hate the constant tear-streaked face and tearing up or crying in front of people. I hate feeling so deeply depressed. I hate what it's doing to my marriage. I hate that I've put Karl in this situation. I hate it all. As dramatic as it sounds, I feel like a piece of me dies each time it doesn't work. I feel beaten down and defeated. I keep praying for hope, a miracle, that I'm following God's plan, that this will end. But this one fear lingers in my heart: What if all this pain is just preparing us for an outcome that is too much for me to accept, an outcome that means a life of childlessness and barrenness? What if this isn't just a trial we have to go through but rather something we will have to live with the rest of our lives? With all my heart, with all that I am, I want a baby. I want to know what it's like to be pregnant, to see my child on an ultrasound screen, to feel my child move within me. I want to know what it's like to have a child placed in my arms after giving birth. I want to celebrate birthdays and Christmases with my children. I pray that God has children in His plan for us. I pray that this is the path God has put us on, not the path I have strayed to out of my own selfishness and greed.

I'm thinking that I'm going to take a break for a month. I've been on fertility medicine for 9 months now. My body needs a break. I need a break. School starts next week, and being a kindergarten teacher the first month of school is brutal. I don't think I want to add to that brutality by putting myself through weekly doctor's appointments and all that medication. Plus all the stress that goes along with the start of a new school year can't be good for my efforts to conceive a child. I'm going to call the doctor's office tomorrow and talk to them about it. That's what my plan is now, but I've been known to change my mind. The idea of giving up a month is upsetting, but I don't think I can handle both things at once right now.

Friends

I have heard some really inspirational quotes lately, and I just wanted to share them...

Sometimes the most beautiful gifts come in the ugliest packages.

Infertility is definitely an ugly package, but when we learn what God wants us to learn from this, and we accomplish what God wants us to do, and we have our precious child, the package might not look so ugly anymore.

You can't have mountains without valleys.

Difficult times truly do help you appreciate and treasure the good times and to recognize the good and beautiful things throughout your life.

What you can't escape, you must endure.

As hard as I've tried to make all this go away, it's still here. This quote reminds me of the children's book The Bear Went Over the Mountain..."We can't go over it. We can't go under it. We have to go through it." :)

God dealt me this hand, and I'm trying to play it as well as I can. However, I can't even imagine how hard it would be if I didn't have such wonderful, encouraging, caring friends. I kept our struggle a secret for several months. In fact, I would have a panic attack at the thought of telling anyone. I was ashamed and scared and grief-stricken. However, I slowly started talking about it, and with the advice of one friend who said I would feel better when I did tell people, I was amazed at how much better I felt once people knew. I truly felt a burden lifted. Now I can't imagine how bad this would be if I had kept it all to myself. The emails, phone calls, text messages, and comments on the blog have touched my heart more than I can put into words. Thank you for all the thoughts and prayers and for just being my friend. I am so grateful for everyone of you.

IUI #1-Failed

I took a pregnancy test this morning since it's been 12 days since my trigger shot. I knew if it came back positive that I wasn't necessarily pregnant since some traces of the shot could still be in my system, but at the same time, I could very well be pregnant. I also knew if it came back negative that I was 100% not pregnant. It came back as negative as negative could be. There wasn't even the faintest hint of a second line.

There is no baby this month, and it's acceptance of this truth that brings me to my knees in sorrow. I know there are millions of people in this world who are suffering, and I know that many of these millions are suffering for reasons far greater than mine. There are women in this world who have a child, but they have no food to give them, and they see their little bodies whither away to bones. There are women who did have a child, but they had to bury him/her after a disease stole them away. There are women who had a child, but they don't know where that child is today. I know it could be worse, much worse, yet my soul is still heavy in sorrow and grief.