Let's begin at the beginning.

Those of you who have known me at any time in my life know that I am crazy mad about babies. I love them. I have spent most of my life wanting millions of them. And those of you who have known my husband at any point in his life know that he has a hard time accepting new ideas and circumstances. So, you can see why the decision to have a baby was a difficult one for us to make. I wanted millions, he was unsure if he even wanted one.

So, October of 2009, we took the plunge and decided we were officially "ready" to be parents (I put that word in quotations because no one is ever really ready to be parents, we all just think we are). After months of irregularity, I went to my doctor and she suggested I try Provera. She promised I would be pregnant by the end of that month. She was wrong. Many more months went by and still nothing. Finally, October 2010 rolled around and I spent the better part of the month in tears. As you may or may not know, you are officially considered infertile when you try for a year with no contraceptive and are unable to conceive OR if you are unable to carry a pregnancy to full term. The word infertility became a part of my every day vocabulary. I remember the first time I said I was infertile. I actually choked on the words. My husband and I went to Dr. Pilliteri and he provided some comfort- along with some Clomid. He said nothing appeared to be wrong but, because I was so irregular, the infertility was most likely the cause of my faulty uterus and the Clomid would help move things along. He was right- in a sense. It did help me ovulate and become regular. But it didn't help me get pregnant. The first year mark passed in, what felt like, slow motion. I dreaded every single day of October (even my birthday which, if you know me, you know that's a HUGE deal). Finally, I took a pregnancy test that month and received the results I was expecting- my 12th month in a row of 'not pregnant' and cried myself into oblivion. Meanwhile, everyone around me was having babies and getting pregnant and I was the odd ball out. None of this was happening to me and I wanted it more than anyone (or, at least that's how it felt).

As the months passed, I turned to God. I dove into the Bible searching for an answer. I brought my husband to the Bible and we discussed religion and God openly. Does God exist? In our minds- yes. Yes He does. He has dealt us this hand and we can only play the game as best we can. Maybe we'll win this one on a bluff? Who knows. My lack of poker knowledge is getting away with me. We started talking more openly with eachother about our battle with infertility. How does it make him feel? How does it make me feel? We learned more about eachother through this struggle. Through the darkness, we have found a small glimmer of light. We learned about people in the Bible who struggled with infertility (my favorite being Samson's mom. One of the unnamed women in the Bible). We learned about celebrities who struggled with infertility (another favorite- Helena Bonham Carter). I also learned that God only gives this battle to his strongest women. I'm so proud to be a part of that army.

Earlier this year, I trudged back into Dr. P's office (for the millionth time) because I had gone 65 (yes, you read that right) days between my last cycle. I was hysterical. With my legs firmly in the stirrups and my heart firmly in my throat, I watched with watery eyes as he showed me my uterus on that tiny black and white tv screen. I saw it there- a black, raspberry sized spot on my uterus. "Oh" he said "here's the problem!". I had a cyst. Not on my ovaries though like most women get them. Mine was at the base of my fallopian tube and my uterus (a pretty important place in the baby making process). He upped my dosage of Clomid, perscribed me some more Provera and sent me on my way. Things cleared up and I continued on with the Clomid. I had to finally stop taking it because I developed serious eye issues and, on my doctors advice, last month was THE last month unless it becomes absolutely necessary.

Now, you may be saying to your self "self, where is Matt in all this?". Well, there are some perks with getting a new job. Like happiness. An increase in pay. Actually USING your degree. And there are some not so good parts of getting a new job- new health insurance that doesn't cover visits to fertility specialists OR sperm tests. JOY! And, let's not forget, infertility coverage isn't even mandatory coverage in Maine. I'm blessed that my job offers me $25,000 of infertility coverage (which includes IVF coverage) for my lifetime (of course, this is after I pay my $2,500 deductible) but, unfortunately, Matt is not yet on my coverage and won't be for another month. At that point in time, we plan to get him tested and go from there.

I'm going to be honest, we debated heavily on whether or not we wanted to go public with this story. I desperately needed support and am hoping to find it this way. Laura Bush said something to the effect that as humans, we have all the words in the English language to say "so sorry for your loss" but, we lack the words to express sympathy for someone who has never existed. Very few people know about this burden that we've carried for the past 2 years and those who do, have tried their hardest to provide every ounce of emotional support they can. I used to get frustrated with people for telling me to just "relax and it will happen" or "all you need is to stop thinking about it and have some fun!" but now I realize- they simply lack the words of sympathy required to say "I'm so sorry for your lack of children" and not make it sound like a robot said it (kinda like I just did).

That being said, I want this blog to be a place I can run to when I need some support. I plan to post at least weekly posts on here. As Matt's tests near, I will keep you as updated as I'm able to. We've been looking into IVF and even adoption (although I refuse to let my dream to become pregnant die). What I DON'T want this blog to be is a place where people can give me advice. The word "relax" is not allowed on this blog (even though I've said it twice now). Infertility is a medical condition and is not a figment of my imagination. I'm pretty sure this sounds like a pretty bitchy paragraph but it's my blog :).

And so, that is our incredibly long story. I took a pregnancy test this morning and it was a negative. We're entering into our second year and I've come to a new acceptance of infertility. I no longer tear up when I see pregnant women (and by tear up I mean glare at them and shoot them death stares), I've stopped looking at the babiesrus registry we made over a year ago (most of the stuff is sold out anyway) and my new focus is not praying for a baby, but praying for strength. I now look to God for guidance. This is his problem now. That doesn't mean that I'm not allowed to cry at a negative pregnancy test, and it doesn't mean I can't hold a baby in my arms and not sob on the way home. It doesn't mean I won't go to your baby shower and bang my head on the wall of the bathroom while you're opening your gifts. It also doesn't mean that at your kids first birthday party I won't be standing silently in the corner considering jamming a pen into my eye. (I just read that to Matt and he said it sounded harsh...I hope it didn't).

It feels good to get this off my chest. It's been bottled up for 2 years and we are done crying on eachothers shoulders. We need your prayers, your positive energy and your positive thoughts. Things are about to get pretty tense for us here over the next few months. Matt's getting tested, we're looking at IVF options, more pills will be taken. *sigh*.

 

There's no crying in baseball.