I had originally started this blog four years ago when I was getting married. It was my way of navigating through the foreign terrain of married life.
Now, my husband and I are struggling with
infertility. Some days are good. Some days are bad. Hell, some weeks are bad (this one in particular is tough). But as difficult as it is for us to cope with, I also think that it's just as difficult for our family and friends. They can sympathize, but it's hard for them to truly know what we're going through.
So, since the landscape has changed, I've decided this blog should change with it, not only as a way to give me a release, but as a way to help my family and friends understand our journey a little bit more. With that in mind, I'll start at the beginning...
Two years ago this month, my husband and I started trying to conceive.
One year ago today, I had laparoscopic surgery to remove a cyst the size of an orange from my left ovary.
And next month, we will be making our first visit to
NYU Fertility Center. All of our tests have already been sent to our doctor - FSH (or follicle stimulating hormone, a blood test which tells whether or not my ovaries are functioning properly), transvaginal ultrasounds (which show where my cyst was and that it hasn't grown back), semen analysis (which determines the Mr.'s sperm count and motility), HSG (or hysterosalpingogram, an x-ray which shows if my fallopian tubes are open and that my uterus is normally shaped). They all came back normal (or in the case of my HSG, "anatomically perfect"), which is good... right? Well, that's the thing that's frustrating. We don't know what's wrong. If we knew what was wrong, we could fix. If we're both so healthy, why don't we have a baby right now?
When we were younger, we were told getting pregnant was easy. Insert Part A into Part B and voila! Nine months later, you get a baby.
Of course, what no one told us was that women are born with all the eggs they will ever have and that as we get older (around age 23), our chances of getting pregnant decrease slightly each year. In fact, a couple between the ages of 29 and 33 (our age box) only has a 20-25% chance of conceiving in a given month. This means I have better odds of winning at the blackjack table in Vegas than getting pregnant... which sucks!
Everyone who knows me knows I'm a planner. I make plans years in advance. I planned to have a baby. The Mr. and I picked out names for a boy and girl. I picked out furniture and nursery decor. I even bought myself a picture frame that says "... and baby makes three". It drives me crazy that things are not going to plan. But it also drives me crazy that my emotions are a nonstop roller coaster. When I get my period, I'm super sad and angry and bitter. When the middle of the month comes, I mellow out (kind of) and try to have a baby again. In the two weeks or so after ovulation, I give myself a chance to hope and dream of happy things. But then I get my period again and the cycle of emotions starts all over again.
The feelings of sorrow only get worse when I hear someone is pregnant - an old classmate, a client's wife, a neighbor or (as the case happened to be this week) a sister-in-law and a cousin. Yes, it's a happy time for them (as it should be), but for me it's a painful reminder of the one thing I so desperately want and feel as if I am never going to get.
Sometimes to get me through a rough day, I listen to one of my favorite Mumford & Sons' songs,
Ghosts That We Knew. Their words are some of the few that can (without fail) comfort me:
"You saw my pain, washed out in the rain
Broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins
But you saw no fault no cracks in my heart
And you knelt beside my hope torn apart
But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view
And we'll live a long life
So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
Cause oh they gave me such a fright
But I will hold as long as you like
Just promise me we'll be alright"
I want you to know, family and friends, that I will keep looking for the "hope in the darkness." But as more time passes, it gets harder and harder to be hopeful...