Working Through This, Together

I had a recent comment on one of my posts about men and how this infertility journey for them can sometimes seem so different to ours, mainly because they aren’t quite so vocal about it. Which I think is true. 

Grant has been an awesome supporter of me in this journey. He’s held me while I’ve cried. He’s listened and not tried to fix things. He’s offered advice and reminders (although not always wanted!) about being a good friend to my fertile, pregnant friends. He’s attended appointments and asked questions. He’s been involved and he’s shown up, strong and resilient, through all of this. And he’s been willing to put up with crazy mood swings, the most awesome side effects of the drugs, even without the highly desired end result. 

I started writing because I felt so overwhelmed by this whole infertility journey and emotions and it seemed as if Grant didn’t feel the same. I could tell that he was upset by the doctors report, but it just didn’t seem like he felt the same way as me. He wasn’t as vocal as me. 

I’ve really been working on how I’m feeling and dealing with everything. Trying to be honest and real and allow myself the opportunity to really process each emotion. While at the same time trying to move on to acceptance and peace. And I think I’m starting to get there. I’m starting to feel like, for now, I’m in a good place. 

And that’s when my husband voices his feelings. 

This past week he’s made a couple of passing comments. When I told him I was feeling nauseous (a very out of character feeling) he said, “maybe you’re pregnant.” At first I laughed it off. It was just a passing comment. But he kept finding different ways to mention it. 

So tonight I asked him about it. Because clearly I’m not pregnant. (It’s not that I don’t think God can perform a miracle and I can get pregnant naturally. It’s just I’m not pregnant right now.) 

He replied that he was speaking it out. 
He was speaking pregnancy over my life. He was speaking hope, and expressing his desire for a baby.  

I’ve always worried that this journey will affect his faith. And here he is speaking in faith. (Thank you God!) I don’t ever want to knock down his faith and I wouldn’t dream of asking him to stop his comments, now that I know his heart behind the comments.

He did couple it with bringing up how yesterday we heard of three different people being pregnant. He spoke of how unfair it all felt. How he doesnt want to become bitter, but that he was sick of hearing about other people. 
Basically, he is feeling all the things I have been feeling for the past year and is finally voicing it to me. 

The silver lining I’m choosing to see here is that I’m in a good place, and he’s now chartering a course I’ve already sailed. It’s now my chance to be his rock. To listen, to sympathize. To help him navigate this journey. I’m so glad now that I asked him about his comments this week because he opened up in ways I never could have foreseen. 

This journey is far from over. Although we are biding our time til April 2015 we obviously still have a lot to work through together. And we are going to take it one step at a time. I’m looking forward to the day where we are both in a good place of peace, hope and faith – whether we have children or not. 

Teary Eyed Heartbreak

It’s just not fair.

Yesterday I found out that my dear friend is pregnant. Within mere weeks of going off the pill. She has no idea about cycle lengths, or when ovulation occurs. She’s never tracked cm, tested her temperature or pee’d on an ovulation stick. She’s never planned to get pregnant. She claims they hardly ever have sex. And somehow they happen to get pregnant without trying. For the second time.

It just screams injustice.
Well not really. It’s what’s meant to happen. It just hasn’t happened this way for me and therefore it’s not fair.
Which I understand is a little selfish.

Truthfully, and surprisingly, I was genuinely happy and excited for them the moment I heard.
Although, I did cry myself to sleep last night.
And then had cruel dreams over and over about being pregnant. Because sometimes life has to be extra cruel.

And today, all day, I’ve been on the verge of tears. Today I have a roller coaster of emotion. Emotions. Up and down. Tormenting me. I don’t want kids. I want kids. I don’t want kids….

Who cares what I want when I don’t get the choice. My biology has already decided for me hasn’t it?

Grant said to me last night that I can’t get bitter. I can’t let this impact my friendship with them and I was almost offended. I know this, I didn’t know why he had to purposefully say this to me. It felt like he was getting at me, pointing the finger and attacking me. Maybe it landed just a little too close to home. But today I saw the wisdom of his words as I had to start myself on the journey of actively choosing to be happy for them. I genuinely want to be. But I can see that there are going to be moments where this will be really hard. But its going to be worth it. I don’t want my friends to hold back their excitement and joy because of me and my issues. I want to choose to celebrate new life not despise it or them for being blessed. I want to be a part of the wonderful journey rather than being isolated in the dark corner wrapped up in a bitter pity party. I’m going to acknowledge my feelings (to mostly myself, Grant, God and you my followers) because I think that is healthy but I’m going to choose to be happy for my friends.

And so, in the spirit of celebration, I managed to go look at and purchase baby items for them today. And I wasn’t even teary eyed. Wrapped it and wrote a card and everything without a single watery eye.

However, during work today E would mention something like eating chocolate made her feel sick and other various pregnancy related statements and I would feel my eyes begin to water.

I may never know that feeling.
I may never understand what that is like.

Then I look around the room at the children at work and I think of all the parenting nightmare stories that I hear daily, and I think about the hard work that parenting is and I feel relieved.

How can I be beside myself, barely keeping it together one minute and literally the next minute utterly and completely relieved?

Is it because I’m trying to save myself the heartache of being childless now? Better to rip the bandaid off now than tomorrow. Or are these dreams and desires of having children, that I’ve had since I was young, something that I’ve desired because I’ve convinced myself that this is what I’ve always wanted?

I find myself being short with Grant and I know it has nothing to do with him at all. It’s my own mixed up crazy bag of issues and its so unfair for me to outlet it on him. And I don’t realize I’m doing it until the words are already out of my mouth. Cringe.
I’m trying to be real and authentic, while also stopping and thinking before speaking, so I’m not stamping all over my beloved at the same time.

It’s hard.
It’s a hard journey.

I’ve been thinking about our meeting with the specialist next week and what they might say and what we might do. Part of me is done. I don’t know how much more I can cope with. Yet another part of me tells me not to give up yet, that I should travel every option so I don’t look back over my childless life when I’m 50 and regret not taking the chance.

But getting pregnant via ivf (or whatever medical intervention we go with that somehow, miraculously works) because I don’t want to regret it later and not because I actually want a baby, is no reason to have a baby. I realize that lots of people have babies for worse reasons but I just can’t accept this.

In all honesty I think I really do deeply desire a baby and all this is my way of trying to cope with the idea that this dream may never come to pass.