This is infertility

 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…..