Will I? Should I? Why? Why not? Who wants to know? Who do I want to know?
I've gone back and forth debating on whether to write about this or not.....my/our fertility journey. I feel very vulnerable around it and that makes me want to stay quiet. However, I also feel angry and frustrated and often so alone that being private about it doesn't work very well either. I'm also tired of this ridiculous sense of shame that is completely illogical and yet very real.
So instead of staying quiet, I'm going to write it out and hopefully connect with others and keep my close family updated on what's happening. Because soon things will start happening. After 1 year and 9 months, 23 cycles, we finally have appointments with doctors. Doctors who can hopefully help or at least investigate.
When we started down this path, we had been married for 6 months. I knew that it could take a while to get pregnant and was prepared to be patient. So for the first few months I was hopeful and just mildly disappointed when things didn't work out each month. I tried to stay focussed on other things, work, planning and going on our honeymoon...good stuff.
After about 6 months, I wanted to make sure we were doing things 'right.' I bought a great book on the advice of a friend and I started charting and temperature taking. This made me feel good. It gave me real data to work with, and I had the comfort of knowing we were doing things 'right' at the right time and I could watch my cycle like clockwork go up (yay ovulation!) and then back down (bummer menstruation). However, as each month passed I also felt a little more afraid that maybe there was something wrong.
At about the 10 month stage I had to have a good talk with God about the fear. I wasn't enjoying walking around with this bag of anxiety on my shoulder. I spent a lot of time praying, journalling, talking to A. I worked through a lot of the initial fear. However, by the 1 year mark, I was ready to ask for medical assistance. My doctor gave me a referral....oh the great hope of medical assistance!
I was finally going to get some help and it was just around the ... what the F*@#*&!! NINE months away?!?! Nine freakin months?!! I got angry. I got really angry and had the great opportunity to go to an anger course with A just a few weeks later. It was perfect timing and gave us some great skills for shifting energy and being loud in a safe comfortable way. In getting angry I was also able to let go a bit. Let go of some of the energy, "let go and let God" and move forward.
We made some changes at that point. We stopped 'trying,' stopped temperature taking. I did just the most basic of data collecting and we took it easy....focussed on Christmas, focused on being healthy and going skiing and even doing early gardening in January. It felt good to let go of the trying and relax. However it wasn't possible to let go of the hope each month. And it wasn't possible to let go of the disappointment and my growing scepticism, along with a deep sense of grief.
I know grief, I've had some experience with it. It's something that I have learned to live with and live through and I know it gets easier over time. There have been a few months where that grief was overwhelming and yet the beauty and the pain of infertility is that it is so cyclical. Inevitably there is a time each month when I'm dedicated to trying and doing my best, a time when I'm hopeful (the tra la la phase) and a time when I'm grieving. The grief is not for the month though, it's a big grief, an encompassing grief and I know I'm going to write a lot more about it because it is a loss that is so hard to define.
Right now, however, this post is long enough. I'm out of the closet! Yes, we are trying (and trying and trying) for a baby. And I'm looking forward to Wednesday, which is the first doctor's appointment. My first foray into the world of medical assistance/investigation will be my HSG test (the dye test) and I'm both nervous and excited to finally have something new to look forward to. I'm also incredibly grateful that I'll have A by my side, that I'm not really alone in any of this.