So I mentioned last time that I went in for some tests for non fertility related issues, but things, like diabetes, that could cause me to miscarry. They all came back clear. I hadn’t thought that was the cause, but I was immensely disappointed when I couldn’t blame something concrete for my problems.
Moving beyond the disappointment that I didn’t have some life long illness (crazy, right? like that is a better option) Rob and I had some serious thinking to do. I vacillate daily.. hourly… over what path I want to pursue. Should we invest our time, money and hearts into adoption, or should we head down the uncertain road of fertility treatments?
Our insurance doesn’t cover infertility, and no, we haven’t become millionaires since moving to the silicone valley (yet) so we knew that it would be costly. I worry that adoption would be hard on our family, since Bee is old enough to see and feel what’s going on, but is not old enough to process the complex emotions that our family would go through. I’m trying to relieve the stress on her as much as I can. She’s my child, that’s my job, and I get fiercely defensive at those who brush off the traumatic effects of secondary infertility on a child by saying, “she’ll get used to it, every kid does”.
After much discussion, we decided to first try fertility treatments. I once remember being in a car with a coworker who was ranting about how people who choose to do fertility treatments are so selfish, because there are children out their waiting to be adopted, and instead of turning to science for a baby, they should turn to God and choose adoption. For as little as I cared about this woman and her opinion, I confess that this conversation has weighed heavily on my mind. The disdain with which she talked about IVF babies was real; I could see it in her eyes. She saw them as science experiments more than children. It hurt me then, and it hurts me now. That someone who has no understanding the complex emotions that come with infertility and pregnancy loss can have such a strong opinion of someone’s personal decisions is, to me, madness.
Lunatics aside, we started on hormone treatments. What does that mean? Well, I’m a master at peeing on a stick.
Lots of testing and tracking, followed by lots of hormones.
I decided that if someone has to be stressed out and emotional, I’d rather it just be me, than having to put everyone though it. hahaha. Looking back a couple months, I see the naivete. The hormones take a physical and mental toll on my body, and it is impossible to hide the effects from my family.
I’ve sobbed on my knees into the fridge because I had just retuned from the store and neglected to buy Sriracha sauce.
I was consumed with an intense self-hate, which is very unlike me under normal circumstances.
Some days my face is puffed up so much it gives me a headache.
I’ve been overcome with a lasting sense of melancholy, wanting nothing more then to stay home alone (a BIG change for this extrovert)
My hair has turned to an 80’s prom queen’s dream
I’ve spent 20 minutes crying in a public bathroom stall because I snapped and cursed at my poor brother
I feel like the sane Michelle is trapped inside a bigger, crazy Michelle and it’s frustrating giving over so much control
I have not been myself, and from month to month it has not been the same. This last month my anxiety has been exacerbated greatly, and the tips on my fingers have felt like I’ve slammed them in a door repeatedly. I don’t quite understand why they hurt.
Every month I say that I can not do it again for another month, and then I get a negative test, and we try again.
I constantly set and reset limits for myself: I can’t do more then 5 miscarriages, We’ll try these hormones for 6 months before we try something else, This is the last month, Only ‘x’ amount of dollars.
All I know for sure is that there are still times, usually when I’m snuggling my perfect miracle daughter, when I feel ill with how much I miss those babies I never got to meet. I think about seeing that tiny little person on the ultrasound, only to spend the next months dealing with the process of a miscarriage.
One of the most common pieces of advice I’m given is, “Don’t stress, just relax, it’ll happen!” I challenge anyone to go through such heartache and change in emotions, while staying relaxed. It’s hard!
My silver lining is that although we’ve not been successful yet, we are at least doing something.