I've got to get it out...I've got to, but am I ready to let all of it out? I mean, there are so many women that struggle with infertility and don't share. I've been that woman for two and half years now. I've been vague and not willing to share truly how I feel with friends and family and even with past posts on this blog. For instance, when I blogged about my
blog crush and also needing a
mental focal point to get me through some "tough times", I was inadvertently talking about my own struggles without going into detail. I think it's finally time to leave all those innuendos behind and share my story.
I can't remember a time when I didn't want to be a mother. I thought I was always ready for it no matter how old I was at the time. With my highschool boyfriend, my senior year, I would talk about getting pregnant and having babies and wasn't even sexually active yet. In college, I took care of all my friends and sorority sisters so much so that my nickname quickly became Mama Ash. After college, and single at the time, I threw around the idea of getting a donor and starting this process off as a single mom. I wanted it so bad...so naturally, when I got married, my husband and I decided to start trying to conceive (TTC in the infertility world) almost immediately.
We had such high hopes! I had never been on birth control so I thought that I would get pregnant the first time, but after three months with no luck, I saw an OB/GYN and cried in her office for a good 30 minutes. I just knew something was wrong, but she told me this was "normal" and to come back after 9 months if I was still not pregnant. 9 MONTHS?! Do you know how long that is in baby-making time?! Like an eternity...that's how long. I was eventually diagnosed with PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) and was told that I do not ovulate (cue sad violin music as my hopes and dreams crash around me).
Waiting to see if you're pregnant every month is such a heartbreaking process where you can't help but feel alone. Even though there are so many other women that are going through the same thing that you are, you still feel alone. Even though your sweet husband is always a rock and consistently supportive, you still feel alone. Even though your family cries and prays for you, you still feel alone. All these feelings of guilt and self-loathing start to build on your shoulders and they get heavier and heavier as each pregnant-less (yes, I just made up that word) month passes you by.
In two and a half years, I have experienced 7 clomid cycles, 3 letrazol cycles, 2 follistim cycles, 3 unsuccessful IUI's and one very scary ovarian cyst removal surgery that has pushed me to feel burnt out and emotional at all times. It's hard to talk about...so I don't. I suffer and worry and cry alone when I get the chance and then put on this happy/positive face in front of others. I'm not positive anymore. I try to be, but it's become too hard to keep the faith when your hopes are challenged over and over again. The ups and downs that have occurred have rocked me to my core, and I constantly question myself and everything around me.
Why me? Why can't I give my husband what he deserves? Why is it so easy for some and so hard for others? How far medically and financially am I willing to go? When do you just give up and move on? Is adoption a real option considering there is also a solid amount of heartbreak that could be involved with that as well?
And so the struggle continues...for now.
