The True Cost

Over the last month I have been coming face to face with the true fight I am in the middle of. The hope that had been restored to me by the doctors at the Mayo clinic last April has more than ebbed away into the dark abyss that is infertility. The hope that I had of being able to conceive quickly once we were cleared to try again in August has been crushed under the weight of a very heavy boot.

January was an incredibly painful month for me, leaving me feeling bitter and beat down. Trod on. Hurt in ways I didn't remember it was possible to hurt. Wondering if the rest of the year is going to follow suit.

I feel robbed.

There is no other way to say it.

I don't think people realize the true cost of infertility. I don't care if you are trying for your first, second, or third child. Infertility hurts, and it is robbing. It doesn't matter where you are in the process. Each month that results in a BFN is painful, but even more so when you are seeking any kind of assistance.

My husband tells me I need to just let go of all of the stress and anxiety because when it all comes down to it, there isn't anything I can do about it. Either it is going to happen, or it isn't. I understand that, but I also understand he is not an emotional woman who is robbed of her dignity twice a month when she is probed like an alien and while wearing an estrogen patch for 21+ days of the month. It is impossible to let it go when you have to go to such great lengths every month for the chance at winning the baby lottery. It is impossible to not get your hopes up just the tiniest bit during the TWW and feel horribly let down by your body and God when your period shows up at the end of it. More money flushed down the toilet. Another testament to your inability to do as nature intended.

I have been wondering why all of this is hitting me as hard as it is, and so I have done a lot of soul searching this past month. What I have come to determine is that while I have fought this battle once before, I am fighting in a completely different way this time.

The first time I was in this war against my body we were living in a temporary situation. It was our place holder while I got the professional experience I needed under my belt to make me marketable in Texas. I also worked in a job I hated. I only had one girl friend at the time, and she was already pregnant when we became friends. Add to that, I didn't know anyone else personally who was going through what I was. It was only after my surgery that I started to blog and found other women who were struggling like me.

This time, however, is completely different. We are in our permanent home. We're not going anywhere. I am in a job I love. I have girl friends all over the place, and more friends than I know what to do with. I have seen infertility touch many friends here in my real life. I have gone through infertility and gotten pregnant with many of my blog friends. My life here is permanent. I can't just walk away from it this time, and I don't want to.

Not only is my life different, the cause of my problems is different, and honestly, I don't think there is a lot of hope for fixing it this time. I have already done all that I can do. I've already had surgery, and while it fixed one problem, it created another. As Dr. D says, the surgery basically traumatized my uterus, and cutting out a piece has inhibited its ability to create enough estrogen. The only thing we can do to fix that is add estrogen, but we've seen how successful that has been the last two months.

To make it even more difficult, everyone around me is getting pregnant and having babies. No, it doesn't just seem like that. It IS that. Before I go on, I want to make it perfectly clear that I am so very happy for the women I am about to talk about. My husband always tells me that I should be happy for them because for some reason he thinks that because I hurt, it means I am not happy for them, which is completely wrong. I just feel left behind, and that hurts.

My best friend who went to Turkey for IVF last summer went back again at Christmas time for a FET. She just found out last week she is pregnant with twins. I am so incredibly happy for her, and I am so glad that her journey to pregnancy was not long and drawn out. I also know this will probably be her only pregnancy, so it is super important to help her enjoy every second of it. I am so, so happy for her. But I still hurt that we were trying together, and she has moved on.

On the same day she announced her pregnancy, which was days after I found out I wasn't pregnant even though AF was a week overdue, I got a text message from one of my best friends with a picture of his baby girl who was born that morning. I am so very happy for him. He is going to be a great daddy. But at the same time, it stung. Not only was I not pregnant, I had no idea when AF was going to show.

That night I tried to find solace in the blogs. The first blog I read was a pregnancy announcement. I broke down and cried.

At some point I prayed. I asked God in earnest if this was ever going to happen. He said yes. I asked him when. I asked him what I need to do. He said be patient. I had a conversation with God that night. I felt Him. I heard Him as if He were sitting there next to me.

Yet, I have days where I feel so forsaken. I feel mocked. My husband says that is not God. The voices who tell me I am mocked are the same voices who make my friends' pregnancies painful.

The true cost of this fight is incredible, its daunting. You lose your dignity first and foremost. It feels as though there is no one in this world who hasn't seen your hoo-ha. Then you lose your money in copays, prescriptions, and treatments. Next you lose your hope. But then you finally gain something, a new level of bitterness and anger you didn't know was possible. Then it's back to losing--friendships, relationships. You start to pull away as it becomes harder and harder to pretend you are who you used to be before you started to die inside. Then you gain weight, either from the stress or from the synthetic hormones, you pack on the pounds.

One of the harder aspects of this fight this time is watching myself die inside. Knowing that the person everyone here in Texas knew is changing. Knowing that they are going to see a different, sadder side of me. No longer happy-go-lucky every day. No longer bubbly and positive. But a shell.

Yes, I have my daughter. I am so beyond grateful. I am working so hard to keep this battle from affecting her. Don't for one second think that I haven't thought about all of the ways this could affect her. And don't for one second think that I am not grateful for her. That isn't what this is about. This is about building the family I always dreamed of.

When I ask myself why I can't just be happy with the one I have, it all comes down to the desires that God has placed in my heart. He built me with the very strong desire to bring children into this world. Everything on this planet is built that way. Multiply and replenish. Even though I already have one, I feel the urge to have more just as strongly as I did the first time. It never goes away. It never eases up.

It isn't that she isn't enough. It's that I feel like our family is not yet complete.

I keep telling myself, just one more and then I'm done. I mean that. Just one more and I will give up the fight. While I can be happy as a family of three if I have to, I know I can be happy as a family of four and call it good. Just one more and then I won't try again. I won't chart. I won't go see the Dr. I will just live my life. Just one more. Please God.

What do I have to do? How do I have to think? Do I have to hit rock bottom and then be crushed even further? I don't know how I am going to get through this this time. It was almost easier when I could get up and walk away last time. I mean, that's when we got pregnant; once I left it all behind. I can't do that this time. This time could cost me so much more than last time. There is a lot more riding on the line, and I can't just walk away from any of it.

I am so broken and tired. I wish that just once, this could come easily for me.

Just one more.