Infertility sucks. It’s that simple. And that complicated. It's also very personal.
I always knew I would probably have struggles getting pregnant easily, based off family history and my own. But I thought it would eventually happen. It took my Mom over a year to get pregnant with me, so a year didn't concern me. But we’ve been married for 7.5 years and trying, or at least not preventing, for over 3 years now. 1.5 years into it we found a clinic and starting the rounds of testing on both of us. Everything showed up normal as far as the tests were concerned. But due to Covid restrictions and my anxiety levels, we decided to hold off for a bit on anything further or more invasive. Also, they would not let Alex in for the additional testing, and I just couldn't handle those without him. And now I’m “geriatric” because I’m 35+. Like are you kidding me? That's one of the worst phrases used in obstetrics. All my friends now being told they have geriatric pregnancies because they are 35 or even 39 have said they've wanted to sock their doctors in the mouth.
When we first got married, people kept joking about us getting pregnant, joking that maybe we were already and didn’t know yet, joking that you just never know, it could happen. It was a little funny at first, until it wasn’t. I was pretty certain we knew how to prevent it. One person after the other said, “You’re never really ready,” as if we might as well just jump into parenthood whether we wanted to then or not. I hated that mentality then and still do now. We know that we'll never be completely ready, but we can do our best to be as ready in every way we can be. We can be smart about it. We knew we needed time to work on our marriage before we added a child. And 5 months into our marriage, I started counseling and turned so much on its head. I was under water for years, I barely knew which way was up. Bringing a baby into that time would have been so unhealthy. Not including the fact that we had nowhere to put a baby in our patio home (that extra bedroom was a library, I mean obviously).
To everyone giving us their opinions of what we "should" be doing about having a baby, I wanted to ask if they were going to pay for daycare, if they were going to be there at 2 AM for feedings. I wanted to ask if they were going to babysit once a week so we could go on a date night. What were they going to be doing to help us with this baby they wanted so badly for us to have?
As time went on, I think people started assuming we didn’t want kids. Like something was wrong with us. Like we were somehow selfish to want it to just be the two of us. By now it seems they’ve just decided we’re not having kids. It's like this mentality of, "If they wanted a kid they would have by now. They are getting up there in age. If you want a kid, you just have a kid."
Has no one stopped to think about that other option - that we desperately DO want a child but are struggling with infertility?
I kept hoping and praying during the months my body was actually doing what it was supposed to that it would figure out the rest of what to do, but it hasn’t happened. At first I wasn't in a rush, I've not ever been one of those women who is like, "I have to get pregnant, and I have to NOW." Some women base their entire existence on needing to be a mother, and although I've always wanted to one day be a mother, it's always just been part of what I want, not all I am focused on. I've been enjoying the extra time Alex and I have had together just the two of us. But over the years of trying, fear has started to sink in, fear that it may never happen. Struggles with my body image have gotten worse, like what's wrong with this body I'm living in that it can't even do the one thing it's supposed to be able to do? Now every negative pregnancy test gets harder and harder. Every month I know it could be a possibility, I wait as long as possible to take the test, because having that hope and then having it completely crushed is brutal.
There was hope that this month my body might finally get it right, but once again it didn’t. Something about this month just completely broke me. Finding out 3 new pregnancies of close friends (so far), with multiple others popping up all over social media. It doesn’t feel fair that some people have to try so hard to not get pregnant, they can get pregnant almost as soon as they start trying, when we have to try so hard to get pregnant. All we want is one pregnancy, one baby, and it feels like it’s going to have to be a miracle for even that. I can't wait to see Alex as a father, I can't wait to see our parents as grandparents, I can't wait to see our dogs as big sisters. And since the problem is with my body, lies start to creep in my head about my worth, about who I am. That somehow my worth is tied up in the ability to grow a child in my womb. Will it ever happen for us?
There have been sobbing meltdowns and raw prayers screaming at God. Why does this have to be our journey? Why does this have to be so hard for us? Why do I, the girl with PTSD, have to be the one who has to go through this? It doesn’t feel fair. I’m angry. I’m angry that my sexual abuse still matters, that it’s still stealing from me. I’m angry that my body doesn’t listen to my brain when I tell it we’re safe, that when PTSD sets in (“trauma brain,” as I call it), I lose control. It’s embarrassing. And it’s absolute angering when I’m invalidated. When a medical professional isn’t trauma informed. When someone says, “Oh you’ll be fine,” “We’ve seen PTSD with veterans, you’ll be ok,” or doesn’t listen to me when I tell them what I need to feel safe and ok. “Just relax,” you really think I haven’t thought of that? “Why are you so anxious?” um because I’m a sexual abuse survivor and my brain cannot tell the difference between the current situation and my abuse. Because the moment I walk in and feel like I no longer have control over what’s going to happen to my body, I’m back in Xavier’s dorm room, I’m 17 again, I’m not safe, and I have no ability to say "no." I lose touch with reality because my body remembers. Then when my blood pressure sets off all the alarm bells, especially after I’ve told them what I needed and been dismissed, I just laugh, through my sobs, that is. “Told you. I’m having a panic attack,” and they still look at me confused. I can generally completely hide my panic attacks, outside of my blood pressure spiking, but during the moments I can’t, it turns out that being an adult woman having a full sobbing meltdown in public from something others consider “routine” is actually not very fun. I can't just "get over it."
I’ve been lamenting recently about the highlight reel that is often social media. How many of these people with pregnancy announcements actually had a hard time getting there? The percentages of people who struggle with infertility are significant, especially the older we are getting, so some of these people have had a journey to get pregnant that’s been harder than others, That's just data. But all I see are their highlights, and all I see are my struggles. How many others, like me, are just seeing other's highlights and feeling their own struggles?
Maybe if I didn’t feel so alone in this struggle, it would be just a little easier. And if not, then maybe I can be the one to share, I can be the one to make it easier for someone else. I didn’t want this to me our story. But it is. So here we are. I'm nowhere near done talking about my journey healing from sexual abuse. I'm nowhere near done trying to take away the stigma so many others face, trying to help others towards healing. But really, this is part of it. Infertility and my journey healing from sexual abuse are so tied together. I stopped taking care of my body after my abuse, I started abusing my body after it was abused, I disconnected from my body after my abuse. This has contributed to my infertility struggles, which already had some genetic components. Abuse is what caused my PTSD, and PTSD is something I live with every day. PTSD is what keeps me from wanting to continue this hard journey towards a pregnancy, because so much of figuring out infertility and then dealing with it is invasive, which happens to be one of the biggest triggers of my PTSD. Some days it just feels like too much. Some days I just don't feel like I have the emotional energy to fight the battle in my brain.
We decided a few months ago to get back on the fertility path and figure out our next steps, despite my anxiety. I spoke with my psychiatrist and OBGYN about a referral to a different fertility clinic, but I never heard from that clinic. Instead, I heard back from a third clinic I didn’t even know about, one based out of offices one floor above where Alex works, across the parking lot where I will hopefully one day give birth. I almost cancelled the appointment they scheduled for me because it was not what I’d planned or expected, but I decided to just see if we could hear each other out first.
I met a doctor at this fertility clinic via video a little over a week ago, along with her PA. Their main clinic is out of Greenville, where the doctor is located, but they are building a clinic here in the Midlands, where the PA is located. I explained our fertility journey, my trauma history, my mental health struggles, and our goals. I explained that the prior clinic we went to was really anxiety inducing for me because I met the doctor, then had all this testing (some invasive) with people I'd never met before, then met the doctor again for results. I needed the doctor I built the relationship with to be the one doing anything invasive, not someone I'd never met before. The doctor and PA were extremely compassionate and validating and appeared to be trauma informed. The doctor said that she wants to start with that last test I'd been avoiding, the HSG test, also known as the dye test. But, she said that she would personally be the one doing the test, and Alex would be able to be in the procedure with me. Also, she gave me some very strong anxiety meds to take before it. Such an answer to prayer. I am still absolutely terrified, but I have a peace about it I didn't have before. I feel validated. I feel heard. I feel like this doctor wants to empower me and make certain I feel safe. The doctor explained that the Midlands office has about 5 people who work there, so I would be able to get to know everyone and not be surprised by who would be seeing me. She thought that would be a good fit for me, and so do I. This week I went into the Midlands location and was able to meet everyone in the office and ask more questions. I felt like I wasn't just another person, another body, but that I mattered. I have hope again.
God knows the desires of my heart, he knows the desires of Alex's heart, he put those there. I don't understand why this is so hard for us and so easy for so many others. I don't know why I have to do so many things that trigger my PTSD. I know my anxieties won't end once we get pregnant, it will always be something - worrying about a miscarriage, worrying about a healthy pregnancy, worrying about having to get the baby out of my body, then worrying about SIDS, sleepless nights, on and on and on. But for now, I need to just focus on the next step. Face this one small step at a time. That is really all I can handle.
I've questioned if I can still trust and believe that God is still God no matter how this journey ends for us. I want to say that the answer is obviously, "Yes!" but this is definitely a test of my faith. I know the glory will go to God once we are able to get pregnant. The child we have will be so wanted, so prayed for. But in the meantime, it's hard to trust God in the waiting. It's hard to trust God in the uncertainties. Can I still give him the glory if our story does not unfold the way I want it to?
Update; post HSG procedure:
We went to Greenville today for my HSG test. Since I found out last week the date of the scheduled appointment, it's felt so real (instead of just a hypothetical in my head), and my anxiety has been so high. Over the weekend I was such a wreck waiting for today to come. This morning I took the anxiety meds they gave me, but they just didn't work. We knew it was a gamble, it was a different type of anxiety medication than I normally take before triggering events, and once I took it, there was nothing else we could do medicinally if it didn't work. And it didn't. The nurse called me back into the procedure room and explained some basic things then left for me to get ready. I had a complete meltdown, and Alex held me and spoke truth over me, grounding me and reminding me how much he loved me and that I was safe. He just about had to help me get ready because I could barely function. The doctor came in, my first time meeting her in person, and I was still in emotional pieces. But she was amazing. She asked immediately what she needed to do to help me, and empowered me by communicating everything and answering all my questions. She didn't rush me at all. She tried to encourage me by saying she'd just reviewed all my lab work and everything looked great. Some numbers are even better than they normally are for people my age (!!!). She even asked if I'd rather not do the procedure that day, but we didn't take off of work and go to Greenville to not do it. I asked if she normally did the HSG procedures herself, and she said that she does sometimes but isn't often able to do them due to time constraints, especially on Mondays. I thanked her for doing mine, and she just said that knowing the circumstances, it was the right thing to do for me. She didn't make me feel even a little guilty, but instead made me feel like I mattered. The procedure itself was uncomfortable, but fortunately the pain was only really bad for less than 30 seconds or so, and then it was done. They even printed out extra pictures so that I could have some, because I specifically asked. She explained what all she saw and that everything looks exactly like it should, and she answered all my weird questions about what the heck I was seeing that looked more like an alien than my insides. My body isn't as broken as I thought it was. The next step is some weight loss, and we were able to talk about what the doctor's long and short term goals are for me, along with how I felt about all that.
I felt heard and seen and protected today. I felt cared for by Alex and by the doctor and her nurse. I conquered another mountain, fought through another triggering experience, and was validated and empowered instead of retraumatized. My brain had another chance to rewire some connections so that maybe next time I feel just a little more safe going in. Every time I'm heard and seen and validated when I'm triggered and melting down, I come out with a little more healing. I wish it didn't have to be so hard, but I feel a little stronger this evening, I feel the power of abuse loosening just a little bit more over my life. Abuse will not get the last word.
HSG test. People show sonogram pictures. This is sort of like that, except without a baby in there.
Apparently this alien face looks great. So glad my alien insides are normal?
Wandering Greenville after my appointment so that I had something to look forward to.
Some verses I'm focusing on now:
““My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord. “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”
Isaiah 55:8-9 NLT
“The Lord himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.””
Exodus 14:14 NLT
“I will be glad and rejoice in your unfailing love, for you have seen my troubles, and you care about the anguish of my soul.”
Psalms 31:7 NLT
“Never doubt God’s mighty power to work in you and accomplish all this. He will achieve infinitely more than your greatest request, your most unbelievable dream, and exceed your wildest imagination! He will outdo them all, for his miraculous power constantly energizes you. Now we offer up to God all the glorious praise that rises from every church in every generation through Jesus Christ—and all that will yet be manifest through time and eternity. Amen!”
Ephesians 3:20-21 TPT
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.””
Lamentations 3:22-24 NIV
“Then David continued, “Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Don’t be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you. He will see to it that all the work related to the Temple of the Lord is finished correctly.”
1 Chronicles 28:20 NLT
“I look up to the mountains and hills, longing for God’s help. But then I realize that our true help and protection is only from the Lord, our Creator who made the heavens and the earth. He will guard and guide me, never letting me stumble or fall. God is my keeper; he will never forget nor ignore me. He will never slumber nor sleep; he is the Guardian-God for his people, Israel. Yahweh himself will watch over you; he’s always at your side to shelter you safely in his presence. He’s protecting you from all danger both day and night. He will keep you from every form of evil or calamity as he continuously watches over you. You will be guarded by God himself. You will be safe when you leave your home, and safely you will return. He will protect you now, and he’ll protect you forevermore!”
Psalms 121:1-8 TPT
