Looking for Answers

There is a book in here somewhere I keep saying to my husband.

Our life was that crazy at times and quite honestly, our ‘normal’ is still crazy.  But I love it and wouldn’t trade it for the world!  We have a unique tale to share.  Others going through infertility apparently have said that too, and I have read many of their stories.  Something about this struggle, while intensely personal in nature and often hard to discuss even with close friends and family, makes you seek out the experiences of others.  It is so comforting to have that “Me too” moment when you realize that someone else has been through the same medical procedure you had this morning, peed on half a dozen pregnancy tests, or fight a real daily struggle to maintain some kind of normalcy in their close personal relationships.  While each story has its own particulars, there is a common thread that runs through them.  When you read a mystery, turn to the last page and Holmes reveals the killer.  When you read a romance, turn to the last page and the lovers are together, waves crashing and bodices ripping.  I found that when you read someone’s personal story about their infertility, turning to the last page reveals the end result of their family-building efforts.  In these stories, the end result is always worth the many pages of difficult decisions that came before it.  Because, unlike conventional family building, the story of infertility is the story of decisions.  Some are long-term, but most are daily.  Today I choose adoption. Today I choose IVF.  Today I feel all alone, like I don’t have any choice at all.  Any account of such a journey is going to be filled with contradictions.  The processes are lethargic:  months of paperwork, invasive tests if you agree to them, and boxes of pointy Kleenex on doctors’ desks.   You are always trying to figure out what comes next.  Only that you can never prepare for it.  This is the mistake that many women make.  Months turn into years and you find yourself second-guessing what will be the right ending for your story.  Is becoming a parent really worth all of this?  For those of us who experience primary infertility, this may become a real question at times.  And just like the many choices that have now become part of my world, I find the answer to this question changing almost daily.  What had seemed so obvious a goal was clouded in the reality of endless doctor appointments and even more endless nights of emotional, draining conversations with my husband.

I hope that someone else, who is also in the middle of their struggle, may find some helpful information among these posts, or at least some much needed humor from something that I’ve experienced.  Chances are quite good that you are going through the same thing.  Take comfort in the fact that you are not alone on your journey towards parenthood.  Oftentimes it feels that way for us.  You feel isolated from everything and everyone.  This is normal.  But you are not alone.  There are moments when no other living person can understand the questions in your soul.  I wouldn’t suggest going this road alone for the distance.  It twists and it turns and there are many unexpected bumps.  Open yourself to the assistance of others and let their help in.

My Story in Several Parts (for NoComLeavMo)

Like a good NoComLeavMo participant (read tired mom who agreed to participate in this wonderful idea and wants nothing more than to finish her 5 commenting obligations and go to bed)  I was reading a post on http://becomingadifferentperson.wordpress.com/ when I saw that some folks had decided it would be helpful to have a brief summary of our story appear on our blog so that it would be easier to follow along.

I have decided to try and accomplish this task over the next several posts (read I really want to go to bed!)

In the Beginning –

The high cost of homes in our area, where we had lived for the past several years, was the main reason that we moved. The desire to be closer to my family, specifically my two nieces, affectionately known as the Genius and the Funny One, was a close second.

We moved into our 1950s style ranch, typical of this part of the city  We were home.  We quickly unpacked and settled in.  We had three bedrooms:  one for us, one for the dog, our beagle, and the middle room which we converted into an office.  Deep down, we hoped that this room would become the nursery one day soon.

I was stuck in the middle of the mess that has been my life since February, 2003.  My plan for parenthood felt infuriatingly stagnant some days, even when my husband, my unwavering partner in all of this, assured me that we were making progress towards our goal of parenthood. Yet, somehow I still felt firmly planted in the day-to-day muck of endless early morning doctor appointments and emotional outbursts which seem to happen at the most inopportune of times.  There were also the good days when I feel so hopeful and excited about what our life will be like in its next phase.  What kind of parents will we be?

A story usually has a beginning, middle, and an end.  Do the characters really know that?  For them it is always the middle.  A sentence without a period has no end, so it must always be in the middle.  My story, started without a period.  So even my beginning was a middle.  Are you confused yet?  I certainly was.  I spent the better part of 2 ½ years confused.  Confused about our reasons for wanting to become parents.  Confused about why we continued to pursue treatments when we had no guarantee of success.  Confused about how we would love an adopted child.  Confused about how we could manage to function in a world where we have lost all sense of control.  There were times when I was confused about simply being confused!  Sometimes I joked about the moments and situations that have made up my infertility journey and then I realized that these things were happening to me.  Sadly, at times I didn’t even recognize myself.

Often I wondered about the person I used to be before I viewed the world through this crazy filter called infertility.