Lately I have been reading post about what infertility costs, both emotionally and physically. I have been there, both my heart and my pocketbook have shown a loss, but today I don't want to focus on what it has cost me, even if the costs have been great. Rather than focus on my losses, I would like to focus on what it has given me.
First of all, love and compassion: I do feel that I have always been a loving person, but sometimes I haven't always been able to express it. Infertility has opened a whole new world of people that have struggled with loss. I feel great amounts of love for them in their struggle. I can empathize with the pain and loss in a way I never thought possible.
In addition to the love I feel for others, my love for my family has increased. The love I have for my husband and children have deepened commensurate with the struggles we have been through. I appreciate a husband that can cry and laugh with me. Our love has been strengthened as we long for more children. I truly believe that I have been able to love my children more and appreciate the true gift they are to me. I know how fast a baby grows and changes, and I have been able to heighten my sensitivity to their changes. I appreciate each day they are with me as a gift from God, and the things I do for them as a way to share my love with them.
Second, I have been able to love each stage more intensely. If I had been able to have my children they way I would have wanted, I would have never been able to fully appreciate the terrific two's or the tremendous three's. I would have had another baby to fill my time instead of being able to focus completely on each stage of wonderment and discovery.
Third, pregnancy was not as big as a pain for me. I get incredible sick when pregnant, so sick I hardly am able to enjoy the wonderful miracle growing inside of me. When we had our first child without any struggles I bemoaned each day of morning sickness, and could hardly imagine putting myself through all of it again (even though I planned on more children.) My second pregnancy wasn't without the toilet hugging, but I appreciated it more. I was so in love with the fact I could achieve another pregnancy the inconvenience of being sick, gaining weight, stretch marks, etc. became welcome blessings instead of horrible nuisances.
To say my perspective has been broadened by infertility is an understatement. Would I wish it on anyone else? Not a chance. We all have our challenges in life to overcome, I believe that is why we are here; to learn, grow, and become someone better than we could ever imagine. Am I there yet? Not by a long shot, but I am grateful for a Father in Heaven that is willing to work with me.
Showing posts with label infertility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label infertility. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
Two pink lines
So...I had a crazy dream last night about two pink lines. In light of my last post, I better explain. I hope that I haven't offending anyone by my cries of bitterness toward my maternal woes. I really did have some of those feelings, as awful as they were. It was my grieving process. Luckily with the help of a wonderful husband, prayer, and faith in a God that infinitely knows me, I have worked through my gnawing feelings of despair.
Well back to my dream. I have two friends that have been trying to conceive for some time now, and they both are pregnant!! I couldn't be happier, like I said, I have worked past my awful feelings that I had about our predicament. So in my dream one convinced me to take a pregnancy test, which I knew would be a waste, only it wasn't a waste. I saw the two pink lines. I couldn't believe it! So of course I rushed over to my RE and they did test on both me and my husband. They confirmed we conceived. I was elated and couldn't wait to share the news...then I woke up.
At least I can dream :)
Well back to my dream. I have two friends that have been trying to conceive for some time now, and they both are pregnant!! I couldn't be happier, like I said, I have worked past my awful feelings that I had about our predicament. So in my dream one convinced me to take a pregnancy test, which I knew would be a waste, only it wasn't a waste. I saw the two pink lines. I couldn't believe it! So of course I rushed over to my RE and they did test on both me and my husband. They confirmed we conceived. I was elated and couldn't wait to share the news...then I woke up.
At least I can dream :)
Friday, September 17, 2010
RITKISS
We had our first son without a hitch. That is in the getting pregnant part, the whole being pregnant and giving birth part is another story for another day. We readily wanted to have more children, both of us come from very large families and we never considered having an only child.
Our oldest was a year, and we had not been using contraceptives for at least six months. I went to my doctor for a routine check-up and mentioned the problem. He looked at me and said, “We know he works,” pointing to my husband, “let’s get you working.” So a series of clomid was prescribed. I hated clomid, the mood swings, the timing of the medicine and the cycle testing. According to the tests I was clearly ovulating, but I showed up not pregnant.
My husband went to his doctor for unrelated symptoms and casually mentioned we were trying to conceive. He promptly said, “That’s an easy test,” and sent him home with a specimen cup in a clearly disguised paper bag.
He did his test and we didn’t think much of it. I was still on clomid, and it was surely to work our next cycle. It was close to Christmas and we were busy with all the festivities. A week before Christmas we received a phone call from the lab with my husband’s results. A chipper nurse informed him that they saw nothing there and to make an appointment as soon as possible with all the medications he was currently taking. My husband was taken back…all of my medications? if there was ‘nothing wrong’ why did the doctor need a follow up appointment, and why did he need to bring the medications he was taking with him? He asked, “Wait a minute, what do you mean there is nothing there?” His mind raced as he realized the true meaning of her words “nothing there”. She must have meant there was nothing there, not nothing wrong. The test revealed that there were no men in his se[a].
The next few days were dark, dreary and clearly without joy. Here it was Christmas with our little boy, and the furthest thing from our mind was celebrating. Our dreams of a house full of “pitter-patter” and joyful play from siblings were dashed and torn into little pieces of nothing. I could not find joy, I tried, mostly for my little boy, but I couldn’t. My dreams had been ripped away, without even a warning. We conceived so easily with our first. Why wouldn’t other children come?
This was only compounded by my husband’s job loss six months earlier. The news of no more babies and having to work full-time (while my husband returned to school) threw me into a spiral downward of despair and awkwardness. All I could see were round bellies and cheerful stay at home moms. I was neither. It felt like more than I could bear. Friends would excitedly announce the forthcoming births of their children and all I could do was stare.
Then the questions started coming; “when are you two ready to have another?” “don’t you think your son would love a little brother or sister to have around?” or “don’t you think two years is the perfect timing between kids?” All well meaning inquiries, but how do you tactfully say, “Our chances of conceiving another child are zero, did you hear that, zero”. And when I would explain things to well meaning family members, they would look at our son and say, “if he is here, another miracle can happen.” I would come home after family gatherings and cry, rant, rave, or scream. I know everyone was trying to be kind, but how can they understand how I felt when their children were running around and their bellies were swollen with the next child on the way.
The worst part were the “oops” stories. I loathed the stories from mothers that
talked about how they were now pregnant with their second “oops” baby. “We forgot once,” or “we just thought about another baby” rang in my ears. Everyone was getting pregnant but me. It was a cruel joke, and I felt as if everyone was laughing at my empty womb.
More than those stories were the headlines about Brittany Spears and other less than perfect celebrities sporting their extending middles and the on again off again boyfriends. How come they were pregnant? (I knew that answer) Why couldn’t I get pregnant? Didn’t I want a baby? Wouldn’t I make a good mother? Wouldn’t we love and provide for another child? Did my son really have the future of an only child, destined to walk alone after we were gone?
I couldn’t shake my frustration, anger, fear and guilt. It was wrong of me to feel this way, but I did. I would be so angry about the situation, and then the wave of guilt would hit. I had a son, so many didn’t even have that. Why did it bother me so? Couldn’t I be grateful?
And one morning, a morning so dark and dreary I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed my husband leaned over and whispered, “Ritkiss.” I turned and looked at him and said, “What?” He leaned in, “Ritkiss, baby.” “What do you mean?” I asked incredulously. It was a nonsense word that couldn’t possibly help me out of bed. “Ritkiss, R, T, K, S …remember to keep smiling.” “Remember what?” “Remember to keep smiling,” he said again. “Life has its way of getting us down, but we can’t let it.” “This is part of our life and we got to keep going” “I can’t live my life without your smile.” He poked and prodded my sides until a smile and a giggle came unwillingly across my face. “We can’t let this get the best of us, Ritkiss.” I got up, got ready, and headed out the door with a smile on my face for the first time in weeks.
Fast forward four and a half years and we can look back to that phrase, “Ritkiss” as a turning point in our lives. All of our pains, struggles, and longings are encompassed by this phrase; a determination to continue forward despite our struggles. We eventually did conceive our second son, after arduous attempts with in-vitro (a story for another day). So when our two-year-old empties a sack in two seconds flat, or hits his brother and grins, we think of our journey and realize our two-year-old tornado is our love, joy, and greatest miracle. So as I tell the stories of his shenanigans, understand we love him and wouldn’t know what to do without him.
Our oldest was a year, and we had not been using contraceptives for at least six months. I went to my doctor for a routine check-up and mentioned the problem. He looked at me and said, “We know he works,” pointing to my husband, “let’s get you working.” So a series of clomid was prescribed. I hated clomid, the mood swings, the timing of the medicine and the cycle testing. According to the tests I was clearly ovulating, but I showed up not pregnant.
My husband went to his doctor for unrelated symptoms and casually mentioned we were trying to conceive. He promptly said, “That’s an easy test,” and sent him home with a specimen cup in a clearly disguised paper bag.
He did his test and we didn’t think much of it. I was still on clomid, and it was surely to work our next cycle. It was close to Christmas and we were busy with all the festivities. A week before Christmas we received a phone call from the lab with my husband’s results. A chipper nurse informed him that they saw nothing there and to make an appointment as soon as possible with all the medications he was currently taking. My husband was taken back…all of my medications? if there was ‘nothing wrong’ why did the doctor need a follow up appointment, and why did he need to bring the medications he was taking with him? He asked, “Wait a minute, what do you mean there is nothing there?” His mind raced as he realized the true meaning of her words “nothing there”. She must have meant there was nothing there, not nothing wrong. The test revealed that there were no men in his se[a].
The next few days were dark, dreary and clearly without joy. Here it was Christmas with our little boy, and the furthest thing from our mind was celebrating. Our dreams of a house full of “pitter-patter” and joyful play from siblings were dashed and torn into little pieces of nothing. I could not find joy, I tried, mostly for my little boy, but I couldn’t. My dreams had been ripped away, without even a warning. We conceived so easily with our first. Why wouldn’t other children come?
This was only compounded by my husband’s job loss six months earlier. The news of no more babies and having to work full-time (while my husband returned to school) threw me into a spiral downward of despair and awkwardness. All I could see were round bellies and cheerful stay at home moms. I was neither. It felt like more than I could bear. Friends would excitedly announce the forthcoming births of their children and all I could do was stare.
Then the questions started coming; “when are you two ready to have another?” “don’t you think your son would love a little brother or sister to have around?” or “don’t you think two years is the perfect timing between kids?” All well meaning inquiries, but how do you tactfully say, “Our chances of conceiving another child are zero, did you hear that, zero”. And when I would explain things to well meaning family members, they would look at our son and say, “if he is here, another miracle can happen.” I would come home after family gatherings and cry, rant, rave, or scream. I know everyone was trying to be kind, but how can they understand how I felt when their children were running around and their bellies were swollen with the next child on the way.
The worst part were the “oops” stories. I loathed the stories from mothers that
talked about how they were now pregnant with their second “oops” baby. “We forgot once,” or “we just thought about another baby” rang in my ears. Everyone was getting pregnant but me. It was a cruel joke, and I felt as if everyone was laughing at my empty womb.
More than those stories were the headlines about Brittany Spears and other less than perfect celebrities sporting their extending middles and the on again off again boyfriends. How come they were pregnant? (I knew that answer) Why couldn’t I get pregnant? Didn’t I want a baby? Wouldn’t I make a good mother? Wouldn’t we love and provide for another child? Did my son really have the future of an only child, destined to walk alone after we were gone?
I couldn’t shake my frustration, anger, fear and guilt. It was wrong of me to feel this way, but I did. I would be so angry about the situation, and then the wave of guilt would hit. I had a son, so many didn’t even have that. Why did it bother me so? Couldn’t I be grateful?
And one morning, a morning so dark and dreary I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed my husband leaned over and whispered, “Ritkiss.” I turned and looked at him and said, “What?” He leaned in, “Ritkiss, baby.” “What do you mean?” I asked incredulously. It was a nonsense word that couldn’t possibly help me out of bed. “Ritkiss, R, T, K, S …remember to keep smiling.” “Remember what?” “Remember to keep smiling,” he said again. “Life has its way of getting us down, but we can’t let it.” “This is part of our life and we got to keep going” “I can’t live my life without your smile.” He poked and prodded my sides until a smile and a giggle came unwillingly across my face. “We can’t let this get the best of us, Ritkiss.” I got up, got ready, and headed out the door with a smile on my face for the first time in weeks.
Fast forward four and a half years and we can look back to that phrase, “Ritkiss” as a turning point in our lives. All of our pains, struggles, and longings are encompassed by this phrase; a determination to continue forward despite our struggles. We eventually did conceive our second son, after arduous attempts with in-vitro (a story for another day). So when our two-year-old empties a sack in two seconds flat, or hits his brother and grins, we think of our journey and realize our two-year-old tornado is our love, joy, and greatest miracle. So as I tell the stories of his shenanigans, understand we love him and wouldn’t know what to do without him.
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