From the Mountain to the Valley

Another holiday season has come and gone in what I am certain has been the blink of an eye.  I remained in good shape digestively except for one day recently when my body seemed to say "enough with the holiday food already!"  That was my cue to get back to my normal way of eating. 

The day after New Years Day, I got the experience of having to deal with an auto accident in which someone pulled out in front of me.  Thankfully no one was hurt.  it just becomes a matter of inconvenience than as the police have to process the accident to form a police report, the auto insurance company has to be contacted repetitively (thankfully my husband took that one on), and with the contact of the two vehicles, my front right wheel was knocked out of alignment to where I felt I was driving on snow and ice and had little control over the vehicle.  We decided we needed to have a tow truck take it to a collision center.  And since the vehicle was out of commission, we had to get a rental car at possibly the busiest time we have ever dealt with when it came to renting a car.  The rest of my evening plans were thus derailed as well as my spirit.  But even with the inconvenience of it all, I'd rather deal with that because the alternative could be much worse. 

And now to continue with the infertility journey:  After all the testing was completed, we met with the doctor to get his thoughts on what was likely happening and to form a game plan for the best approach in my husband and I trying to conceive.  The issue of infertility in our case was that I wasn't ovulating.  I had what I needed to do so, but my hormones seemed to interfere.  I have an abnormally high amount of testosterone for a female.  Although this has never been medically presented or challenged in my case and is pure speculation and wonder from me, it's crossed my mind that my issue with Crohn's Disease, or more specifically the use of prednisone in treatment for my illness, had in some way affected my hormones.  My cycles were fine until I got sick with Crohn's.  And after having surgery and getting an ileostomy, they were only "normal" with the use of birth control.  It just makes me wonder. 

With all of this information from the test, it was decided to first get my body to ovulate.  I had to take medication in order for this to happen of course.  (Forgive me because my mind is lost on how many medications I had to take, but I think there were two.  And I definitely can't remember their names.  This journey, this story I now share is more based and focused on the emotional struggle of it all.)  I remember the medical personnel saying to take a certain medication on certain days of my cycle.  And then on a certain time range of my cycle, they wanted both my husband and myself to come back to the office so that they would be able to do a procedure called an IUI (intrauterine insemination).

An IUI is, in simple terms, artificial insemination.  The goal is to get more sperm to reach the fallopian tubes increasing the chance of conception.  The procedure itself was awkward.  I never anticipated needing outside help in order to conceive a child.  But here we were: my husband and myself going through our own respective necessary procedures, and again, I had to toss modesty to the side.  And even with the awkwardness, there was a sense of excitement that soon we might be parents.  The staff seemed positive as well.  We just had to wait a little while longer after the procedure to find out if it worked. 

We go home and go about our daily lives.  We tried not to think about it too much.  Then one day, it was thrown in our faces.  I had gone to the bathroom and had seen the color pink.  And then the pink turned to red.  Months ago, I probably would have been ecstatic to have this happen as I hadn't had a cycle on my own in a long time.  but when you're waiting to see if you're pregnant, pink and red are not welcome colors.  And that evidence was all it took to break a heart that had just been bandaged u with a hope that I almost lost not long before.  you don't think that you can cry any harder or any longer than you do in that moment.  But the next day proves otherwise.  When I would hear that others were expecting or had given birth, it would rub those wounds that were already so big, so fresh, so painful.  And then, on top of that, I'd feel guilty.  Yes, guilty!  A joyous time for others and here I was, so hurt and heartbroken.

I wanted so badly to be happy for them, but I just couldn't fully invest that much selflessness.  I hadn't had time to even put a band-aid on my own wounds (like that would even help).  I wasn't even able to hide my feelings.  If you were looking at my face in one of these situations, you'd have seen it.  (Just ask my mother.)  I personally would like to add that those with the good news of becoming parents, those that want to share with the world, they shouldn't feel bad for sharing their joy.  Just understand that there may be some in your midst who are unable to share in your joy, and those same people feel bad for not having the ability to share in the joy and elation. 

With the realization that we hadn't achieved what we had hoped for, a child, we decided we needed a break  After only one attempt, maybe we should have jumped right back in.  But emotionally, I was spent.  Another failed attempt that soon after would most likely have done me in for good.  We were also spent financially.  We needed time to save up money again. 

In the meantime, we continued to turn to God, each other, and the family and friends, who knew of our situation provided as much support and comfort as possible.  And for that, we are both grateful!