Infertility Didn’t Fit into the Plan [the Word That Changed Everything]

 

This story is, unfortunately, not rare. It is not specifically different or worse than anyone else’s. This story is one you may have even heard before – or experienced yourself. One of frustration and pain and hurt and loss. One of unanswered questions and prayers and hidden tears alone in a grocery store parking lot. It is not one of constant joy, but of grace and struggle and (hopefully) triumph – though the ending isn’t quite written yet.

So to begin, we have to go backwards – to a seemingly simple plan: college, love, marriage, kids. Basically, a checklist my type A personality created before I realized how messy life would be. (Not yet understanding how laughable the notion of having control was.) The problem with this plan was that step one took longer than expected, step two didn’t happen the way I had imagined it would and step three took a very, very long time. This middle part of the story – the love part – was messy and complicated and not exactly the way I had imagined. After a slow start of awkward college years together, my husband and I eventually dated for 8 years before getting engaged, marrying a year later – just under the 9 year mark. At our wedding ceremony, it would be clearly expressed how excited we were to start our family – weaved into prayers, something that everyone around us knew we wanted fiercely. But we also knew that our journey could possibly be an uphill battle. I have endometriosis and hypothyroid disease, in addition to a fun history of pre-cancer of the Uterus. Top this off with watching our own loved ones battle infertility odds for years, and we knew we wanted to prepare as much as we could along the way for our own journey to a family.

So, long before that beautiful day last August, we did just that. I read the articles and did the research, went off the longtime white pill prescription and made life changes – trying my best to find peace with the fact that while we were busy planning a wedding with both of our families, we were also quietly starting the process of making our own. I could go on about society’s pressure to follow certain steps to get from point A to point B towards having a marriage and children – or the guilt often associated with not doing these said steps “in order” – but instead I’ll say this: We did it our way. Yes, it was different than most. But I wouldn’t change it. 

So when it was time to schedule my yearly OBGYN appointment, I didn’t expect anything other than having to go through the usual poking and prodding routine. We had been following the ovulation kits and tracking everything along the way, so I just figured that after almost a year of planning and preparing and trying to get pregnant – the universe would now finally just … let it happen. But it wasn’t happening. When I would bring up my concerns with other women, I was often told that this was early in the process, that we hadn’t even “really tried” yet, that we “still had time” and the conversation would move on. I was too embarrassed to tell them that we had been trying, for over a year. That we had 9 years of life together – and they weren’t exactly all locked up in a chastity belt. I started to believe that my worries weren’t valid. That I was overthinking everything. So when I walked into that yearly appointment, I anticipated having to wait another year before talking about necessary options. And anyway, we would get pregnant by then. It was part of the plan – remember?

I was quite surprised then – and relieved and sad and confused all at once – to hear the word ‘Infertility’ come out of my Doctor’s mouth. It was like I knew it was coming all along, but it still felt like I was being punched in the gut. She was great, she explained everything so well and smiled kindly as I nodded along, making mental notes to google everything later. She made it all seem so normal, so okay. (Something I am still struggling to cope with – how normal this reality is for so many) I walked out of the doctor’s office that day with a surgery date, lab + test orders and what I’m sure was a stunned look on my face – concealed with a polite smile to convince the rest of the world I was still human. Still existing. I sat in my car in the parking ramp and sobbed. I called my husband and sobbed some more. And then I drove home and Googled all the acronyms I didn’t know existed. And so, on a normal unsuspecting Tuesday, our story with infertility began.

It’s been 4 months since that appointment and our new normal has morphed into countless tests, blood work and numbers floating around. We’ve had paper bags of sample cups on our dining room table and surgery dates that held success, but even more questions. We have now entered the realm of fertility hormones, ultrasounds, more blood tests and stacks of Hospital bills that seem to grow by the day. I float between hope and anger and sadness and frustration – fighting to find light on the darkest days. Trying desperately to cling to our blessings and not allow jealousy to cloud our hearts. It’s challenging to keep the romance alive when sex feels more like an item on your to-do list and each “try” has a price tag. But while the word ‘infertility’ has partially robbed us of the newlywed bliss we had always heard about, this journey is also bringing us closer than I could ever imagine, fighting together to find our own version of Family. Because one day we will hold a baby – whether it be ours or from a brave family somewhere else – and we will have no regrets about this season in our life.

If this journey has taught me anything thus far it is that we are far from alone. Our story is like so many others, and yet still uniquely ours. We have good days and bad days, joy and laughter and sorrow and tears all weaved into the normality of everyday life. Our story is not a fairytale, but it is also far from over.

A hopeful chapter, to be continued.