We are the 10%

Being a six foot tall feminist who was in ROTC in high school and would now happily garden and bake all day means that I’ve never been one to fit in to a statistical mold.

Sadly this one is biting us in the ass.

I was ready for another kid once Jack turned three.  Likely because he was such an asshole as a three year old, I was probably looking to replace him.  Three is evil.  Don’t ever let anyone tell you that two is where the trouble is at.  Three year olds need to be shipped off to an island where they can have their emotional breakdowns over the fact that “this dinner is TOO DELICIOUS MOMMY”, and promptly be returned when they are four years and one week old.

But for a multitude of reasons, trying for another one didn’t make sense until early last spring.  With the last five years being such a challenge for us, I kinda foolishly felt like God was going to give us a freebie on this one.  Like “hey, I know since 2010 your life has been kinda shitty, so let’s call a mulligan on this one and make things easy”.

Oh me and my little plans.  When will I ever learn?

When cycle two started, I laughed with a few friends because “of course it wouldn’t happen the first cycle, but I’m sure this will happen super soon”.  Then just imagine that same conversation happening each month, but replace “first” with words like “fifth”, “ninth”, and on and on…

I have many friends who have suffered from heart-breaking fertility issues, so my initial gut reaction was always “play down the feelings because it isn’t THAT bad”.  I think it was some time in February when I was discussing it with a friend and she said “Infertility isn’t a competition, and secondary IF can really suck donkey balls”.

Up until that moment I had never really thought about that word, and it possibly applying to me.

Anyone who knows me, knows I am not a patient person.  I will stand in front of a microwave and yell “hurry up”.  Patience is not my strong suit by any means.  So this process has been a very hard and challenging time for me.  For us. To want something so badly after having to wait so long, and then still not have it happen has tried my natural “Pollyanna” outlook on life.  It has challenged my relationships with others, and my relationship with God.  Please notice, I didn’t say “ruin”, I just said challenged.  It has forced me to grow in my communication and faith.  And I used to think if you just worked hard enough for something, it would happen.

And god knows we have worked hard enough at this.  HA!

I am so sick of shaving my legs.

We’ve tried everything that conventional advice recommends.  We’ve tried not “trying”.  I’ve peed on things (not Troy, but we’d probably be willing to give it a shot if it had a history of success.  “Hey, urine luck and got pregnant”), I’ve taken my temperature, I’ve ignored the thermometer, and just about all the other things you can think of.  I’ve prayed, I’ve bargained, I’ve brushed off the disappointment, and I’ve cried through the pain.  We’ve tried tests, looked for a diagnosis, and all those wonderfully invasive “fun times”.  We officially have a file in the office of a Reproductive Endocrinologist’s.

The delay in starting this next journey in our life has delayed a lot of other things I’ve wanted to do, and things I’ve wanted to share with you.  It’s kind of been a black cloud over my heart for an extended period of time.  I’ve gone back and forth a thousand times on whether or not to even write this post.  For one, it’s fiercely private, and even though I never shy away from sharing private details with you, this thing has the ability to make me sob at a moment’s notice.

After praying about it, and asking Troy’s permission to share (this is after all not a “me” thing, but a “we” thing), I finally settled on talking about it.  I feel like the word infertility is like saying Voldemort’s name aloud; calling it by anything else would only give power to the hold it has over a situation.  We are not powerless in this struggle.  This is a time in our life that once again will be a challenge to overcome, but it doesn’t get to own me.  It doesn’t get to own us.

One thing I would like to do is say a giant thank you to all of you who read this blog, whether you are new or have read since the beginning.  I see a lot of blogs out there where commenters are constantly saying “are you pregnant?  You look pregnant”, or “when are you going to have another baby”?  Not a single one of you have ever left a comment like that as far as I can tell, and I just thank you for it.  We never know what is really going on in a person’s life, and comments like that can be like to a knife to the heart.  So for your restraint and your loyalty, I thank you.  If you have room in your life to add us to your prayers, it would be appreciated.  And just for the small percentage of people who can’t refrain from throwing in “helpful” commentary – telling an “infertile” that you got pregnant within three seconds of wanting a kid…not helpful!  Anyone who says that gets kicked in the lady taint.

Voldermort, Voldermort, Voldermort.

I am no owned by any label.  We’re not powerless in this.