I need to write. Writing unravels my brain. But my brain is so knotted up that I can't even find an end. Words and phrases are coming out in fragments, pieces of thoughts. It's all I have right now. Stream of consciousness, knotted up broken pieces of thoughts.
This is infertility
I
Get off birth control
Before 35, wait a year
No one will listen to your concerns before a year
I know something isn’t right before we start, something has never been right
I always knew it would take time, but how long?
At a year, have your doctor tells you she won't even see you to discuss if you haven't lost X amount of pounds
Invalidated before you even begin
Reduced to a risk factor, a summation of body parts
Not a person
Let self hate creep in again, fear talking to anyone else
You're obviously too screwed up for this dream to happen to you.
The lies in your head get louder, the ones that have been whispered and screamed to you for so long
Your worth is a number on a scale.
Wait. Pull yourself back together.
Someone has to believe in you. Fertility clinics are more equipped than your regular OBGYN
Call a fertility clinic to make an appointment, terrified to be that broken to need their help
Terrified to be dismissed again, but holding on to what little hope you have
Fertility clinic. Weight. Blood pressure.
"Why is your blood pressure so high"? "I'm having a panic attack." "What are you anxious about?" "What am I not anxious about?"
Meet with the fertility doctor. She encourages you that the other doctor was wrong.
This is her specialty.
She has hope. But we need to run tests.
Blood tests. Ultrasounds. Multiple.
Who are these ultrasound techs? Why are strangers touching me?
Am I safe? Why does no one else understand my anxiety? Stop touching me.
So many new people at this clinic. So many unfamiliar faces wanting a piece of my body.
This is everyday for them. This feels like trauma to me.
Numbers. Results.
AMH/TSH/Prolactin/Hemoglobin A1C/Mean Blood Glucose/ABO RH/Rubella, IgG/Vericella Zoster, IgG
What does it all mean?
Am I normal?
Why is that number high?
Is “positive” good or bad?
Is my body broken?
Sperm test - the one and only test for him. He tries to act like it's not a big deal.
It is.
He's nervous, too.
His numbers look great.
But that confirms what I always knew, the problem is with me.
I'm broken, just as I suspected.
Why are some of my numbers off? Doctor isn't concerned.
We know we'll start with IUI.
She wants one more test. Hysterosalpingography (HSG). It’s optional for now.
She says it's not bad for most people.
I'd have to go alone. Alex can't be in there for the test.
Two friends share their horror stories.
I can't move forward. My body is tired of being invaded. My body doesn't think we are safe. I can't convince it otherwise. For now, it's too much.
PTSD is too much sometimes.
We step back. Take a break.
More friends are having babies
*Outside voices* “You’re not getting any younger”
“Don’t wait too long to start a family”
I hear, “You’re too old. What’s wrong with you that you’re not pregnant yet?"
II
New OBGYN.
I need to be a person, an entire person, not just a combination of body parts and risk factors.
She sees me as a person. She validates, listens, cares. I finally relax.
She tells me it's ok to get a second opinion.
New fertility clinic. Second first appointment. More anxiety.
New fertility doctor. We meet virtually.
She's trauma informed.
She hears me. She validates me. She sees me. I breathe again.
Fertility doctor wants the Hysterosalpingography (HSG). I’ve already mentally prepared for this.
Alex can be there. She will do the procedure herself. No strangers.
Drive to Greenville
Anxiety meds don't work. They were a gamble.
They would knock most people to the ground, but for me they do nothing.
Panic attack. Meltdown. Trauma brain takes over.
Alex holds me and says all the things I need to hear, all the things we’ve practiced
Meet my new doctor in person during panic attack.
She doesn't look away, doesn't dismiss me. She sees me.
No invalidating platitudes
She asks how to make me feel safe. Explains everything. Gives me a voice.
I am safe.
I make it through the procedure. Results were good.
I feel empowered. I am not completely broken.
Blood tests. Ultrasounds. We need updated results.
AMH/TSH/Prolactin/Hemoglobin A1C/Mean Blood Glucose/ABO RH/Rubella, IgG/Vericella Zoster, IgG
Familiar now but still a language I don't understand
Doctor breaks down everything. We talk about the big picture.
She puts the puzzle pieces together. I'm 36. No one has put the pieces together before.
PCOS. Polycystic ovarian syndrome.
Explains so many things
Answers are empowering
Others have this. Others who have this get pregnant. Others who have this have babies.
Now we know how to move forward
"I want to be sensitive. I would like you to lose some weight, but I know how hard it has been. Would you be ok with help?"
No shame. No guilt. Just compassion and hope for me.
My weight is only a number. It is not my identity.
I put in the hard work. I accept the help. I lose the weight.
Doctor is continually encouraging. She's happy with the results.
We can move forward. But when? When am I ready?
Meanwhile friends get pregnant and “just don’t know how it happened”
Some over and over again
Friends who planned and started trying with us get pregnant in mere months
Always hoping we’ll be pregnant together
Always them moving on without me
4 years of watching other’s lives pass us by
Friends pregnant
Babies now 1, 2, 3, 4
Still we wait for our turn
Try to celebrate their joy
Love them as best we can
Love their babies as best we can
But it aches
We stumble over and over
Somedays I have to step away to hide the tears
Somedays I accept this normal
That this will never be me
Watching others live my dreams
We snuggle babies and toddlers at church.
Not our own, but we love them still.
I watch how my husband loves and nurtures
Any baby of ours will be so lucky to have him as a father
How I ache to see him as a father
Baby pukes, diaper blowout, toddler screams, something breaks
“Are you ready for this?” Say the parents sarcastically
Parents looking for someone to share in their suffering, share in the hard moments
We want to share in all of the moments
*Outside voices* “Just lose 10 pounds.”
“Just relax and enjoy it.”
“Have fun.”
“Are you having enough sex?”
They giggle like this is just a sex party for us
I hear, “You’re too fat. You’re too messed up, why can’t you control your anxiety yet?”
I hear, “You can’t get anything right.”
Most are well meaning, but words won’t fix it
They don’t know what it’s like on this side of infertility
III
Here we go
IUI. Interuterine Insemination.
Let’s do this. Doctor is confident and hopeful.
Round 1
Letrozole for 5 days. Used in cancer patients and also for fertility. Sickness and health.
Wait
Internal ultrasound to determine size of ovarian follicles
Alex has to be there. We come up with a checklist to keep me grounded.
Trauma brain shows up. I don't meltdown.
Let’s consider this a science project.
Get to see my ovaries. See the follicles that should soon release an egg.
My body is pretty neat sometimes
I ask questions. This helps me feel in control.
We are given the next set of instructions.
Timed trigger shot to release egg(s) within 36 hours
Timed adult activities
Times where adult activities are restricted
“Collection” of sperm. This gets to be done alone.
Unlike my part, his doesn’t require his body being poked and prodded
Still so much pressure to perform
Processing of sperm. A machine removes the extra and leaves just what’s important.
We learn the sperm count. He can’t control that anymore than I can control my body getting pregnant.
Everything is science now. There’s no romance in this.
There’s no romance in trying to get pregnant with 2 medical professionals in the room
Alex has to be there. For his part, but also for me. He is my safety. He is my calm.
Physician's Assistant is trauma informed.
We use grounding techniques.
I watch on the screen as the catheter enters my uterus and releases the sperm.
I ask questions.
This is my choice. This is my body.
No one wants to hurt me here. I am safe.
My voice matters in this room
I feel empowered
I have hope
Then timed adult activities
Daily progesterone
Wait
Wait
Wait
Two weeks of excruciating waiting
Hope
Pregnancy test negative
Hope disappates
Wait for period
Start round 2
Add daily ovulation tests
Add more grounding techniques for invasive procedures.
Wait
Hope
Pregnancy test negative
Hope gone
Start round 3
Wait
Hope
Pregnancy test negative
Hope lost
We are given the option of a round 4. Yes. Let's go. Can’t miss this chance.
Start round 4
Wait
Hope
Pregnancy test negative
Hope is not a word I can utter now
We have to regroup
Our small medical team feels safe but still
Trauma brain shows up with every procedure
Same people every time
They know what I need but
PTSD is relentless
I am stronger still….
Am I?
I want to be stronger
I’m tired of fighting
I can’t get away from myself
My own mind is unrelenting
Everything feels like danger
Nothing feels safe
I am hypervigilant
I don’t feel like I own my body anymore
It feels like public property
My brain recognizes this feeling
It feels like trauma, though it is not this time
How does my body know the difference?
My body tires
My soul tires
I scream prayers
I yell at God
This isn’t fair
Why me?
Hope dissipates more with each round
This is exhausting
This is all consuming
Everyone in our circle knows what we are facing
We need support. We need prayers.
We cry out to God together and alone
Every negative result confirms what I believe about myself.
That I am broken.
That I am damaged.
That I’m not worthy of being a mother.
This thing my body was made to do, it will not.
Who am I if this can’t happen?
Things that were once taboo are now dinnertime conversation
Ovulation, ultrasounds, periods, sperm count
Others are uncomfortable
It’s just science
Getting pregnant in the privacy of your home or the white walls of a medical office
Requires the same basic formula
My formula just has a few more steps,
A few more people in the room
Our private life feels public
Now everyone knows we have sex
We are married. We are adults. This should be obvious.
I still feel shame.
But now what was once for fun is prescribed
It’s mechanical
Its purpose is different
It’s a reminder that my body won’t do what it was made to do
That I’m still different
This, too, is shameful
The shame grows and expands in my mind like a virus
My inner voice continues to call me “broken”
*Outside voices* “It’ll happen in God’s timing.”
We have to decide the timing. We only have so many chances.
Often God requires us to take a step and He meets us there
“Have you considered adoption? There are so many babies who need homes.”
It’s not that easy. This isn’t like bringing home a puppy.
“Maybe you’ll have twins!”
Please stop.
“Maybe mother nature is saying you shouldn’t have a baby.”
Some words should never be said.
IV
Regroup
Meet with doctor
Review each round
Uterine lining, sperm count, egg count, ovulation timing, cycle length
Every round looks great
But has my body created any great cycles without this help
Or have these 4 months been the only time with real hope
With PCOS we just don’t know
Let’s keep trying
Doctor still has the hope I have lost
We’ll get two more tries
Up the medication
Up the chances
Two more tries before we make new decisions
I can’t let my brain spiral
Focus on the step in front of me
Back at it
Haven’t had a break since this began
I am weary
Alex feels all the weight of my weariness
Start round 5
Wait
Hope
Pregnancy test negative
How can I hope again?
I’m breaking little by little
One more chance
Start round 6
The timing is different
Timing is everything
My anxiety is worse
So much pressure on this round
Everything has to be perfect
This is our last chance
We have to go to Greenville
New strangers touching me
No, my doctor is on call
She will do the IUI
I’ve put her through the fire already
She is safe
I’m too afraid to hope again
Wait…..
