I've debated for the last few weeks about writing this post. But I finally decided to bite the bullet and get this out. Consider it a PSA for those of you who know someone who is going through fertility treatments or infertility issues. I'm not speaking for everyone who has fertility concerns or issues, but in discussions with friends who have been down this road, this is a common feeling.
One of the worst things you might say to any woman who is trying to get pregnant is the word relax. I get why people say it. It makes you feel like you're helping, it's advice that everyone can relate to and there's nothing you can do to make the situation better. I've probably said it myself to friends and not even realized. But, if I'm being honest, I can only assume it makes you feel better. Because it does not make me feel better. What does the word "relax" or "Just try to relax" make me feel? A couple things:
1. That this is my fault. If I would just relax, my reproductive system would suddenly begin to work. If I would just relax I would be able to get pregnant. It's like having lemon juice squeezed over a paper cut - the cause hurts bad enough on it's own.
2. If all it took was being relaxed then we should have gotten pregnant when we started this journey almost 2 years ago. And it is a journey. You go places when you are navigating doctors and specialists and treatments that are completely foreign and uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally.
3. Why are there fertility specialists if relaxing is the thing to do? There'd be nothing for them to do beyond writing scrips for Ativan or something. Or all us ladies trying to have a baby would be camped out in Colorado smoking a whole lot of pot.
I do think that stressing over the lack of pregnancy, the worry that IUI won't work, the desperation of wanting a baby can be detrimental. There are too many stories about women, whom I'm sure we all know, that get pregnant when they stop treatments, when they adopt, when they make peace with not having a child, to discount the role that stress may play at times and in different situations. But I do not believe that stress is keeping me from getting pregnant. There are medical reasons that we're having trouble. Relaxing isn't gonna cause any of those reasons to improve.
The thing is there are no easy words of advice that bring comfort. The words that mean the most are words that tell me that even if my friends haven't gone through this, they still know it sucks. They realize that saying "I'm sorry that you have to go through this" means more than anything. Because the thing is, I know that no one can solve this problem with words. I don't need people to tell me it'll be ok and that it'll happen when it's meant to happen - because, peeps, it may not happen. Saying that it'll happen in God's time - nowhere in the Bible does it promise me that I will get to have a biological child. It just doesn't which means that in His time may mean it's not happening. And sometimes all I want is the acknowledgment that people get that this stinks. It doesn't mean that we have to belabor the point - you know it sucks, I know it sucks, we all wish it were different but it's not.
I don't mean to come off as being harsh or unfeeling toward my friends wanting to help, to sooth, to express their hopes for us. I love that our family and friends want to help us, to give us something to cling to. Working through infertility is like getting married in a way. Everyone will have an opinion on what you should do. And a lot of the time you have to let the advice and thoughts shed off you like water. You know they're giving advice because they care about you and they want to contribute in a way that could make things easier. So if you are reading this and you are one of my friends who has recommended I try to relax, please know that I'm not silently fuming or crying into my milk that no one understands. I know you meant well. But if this post makes anyone who reads it stop and think before offering the words "Just try to relax" to someone you know (besides me) that is trying to have a baby then I'm glad I wrote it. That person may need some words of hope, some words of love or just some recognition of the fartiness that infertility is.
I seriously love you, friends, even if you've told me to just relax.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
IUI Round One; Bruised But Not Broken
Oh friends, this road is hard. We've been kind of mum on the whole process until now because we didn't know what it would be like. And even though we want to be open and transparent about our struggle, we don't know when or how we want to tell people that we're (fingers crossed, prayers said and jump over a well backwards - ok, I just made that last one up) pregnant. So we have been a little more hesitant to share lately.
We attempted this whole IUI thing in December but my body rebelled, my meds weren't quite right and we couldn't do the actual procedure. January rolls around and we were ready steady go. After a few bobbles, a lot of tears and wondering if this would all work this time around we were able to complete a cycle.
Then came the waiting....waiting...waiting. Was that a twinge? Was that a cramp? Am I more tired than I usually am? Ew what's that smell? Is this all in my head? Truth: I was way more tired than normal and a little queasy. But the beginning of this week came, along with a blood draw and a few hours of bated breath waiting. And sadly that afternoon brought the heart bruising news that we were not yet destined to be parents. Likely the increased meds are the cause of all of my "symptoms" along with a small bit of (I'll admit it) overactive desire to have those symptoms.
I have a group of girls whom I love fiercely. (They are not my only group that I love fiercely, FYI. I am blessed to have so many of these women and men in my life.) We meet and we talk and we pray and we cry and we laugh, oh how we laugh. And we study. Our current book was so timely for this week. The first chapter of this (The Storm Inside by Sheila Walsh if you're interested) is about heartbreak. She talks about how the very essence of being heartbroken is to have unimaginable loss. She talks about the difference between burdens and loads and how we need others to help carry our burdens but loads can be borne alone. Most importantly she says "God has promised you that whatever you face, you are not alone. He knows your pain. He loves you. And He will bring you through the fire." on page 13 (not trying to plagerize, y'all!).
I am amazed daily these days how I am exactly where I need to be and surrounded by those who will help bear our burdens. That doesn't mean that I get to share my rucksack of issues...you know, my load. There are things that I need to keep to myself. Things to discuss with God. Things to try and change. (Like my temper when I'm in traffic. Really, who's going to help bear that one? I can't stand it and it's mine.) Things that I seek counsel on from my a friend who is iron sharpening iron, but who doesn't try to share my load. In the end only I can do something about those things.
This faith doesn't mean that I don't hurt, that I don't rage at times over how unfair this is. That I don't get angry, and that some days I need others to cover me in prayer because I can't bring myself to talk to my beautiful, loving, merciful Father. That I don't despair at times when looking at our finances and thinking of how different things would be if we weren't seeing specialists (don't worry, y'all, we're good). That I don't cry tears of grief over a child we have yet to know because that desire to know them is so strong.
But He will bring me through the fire. Through the fire. He doesn't promise I won't be changed or even singed, but that I will survive. I know that not everyone who reads my posts believes the same things I do. But this is where I find my comfort, along with DH, family and friends who have wrapped us up in gentle arms this week as we're feeling our bruises, moving carefully around the sore spots and wondering how long the healing may take. Despite our bruised hearts, we're not heartbroken. This is not an unimaginable loss for us. We knew that this round might not work, and that actually no round might work. There are no guarantees when it comes to this fertility rollercoaster. My only guarantee is that while I am bruised and battered, this experience will not cover the rest of my life. I have not lost a parent, a child, my brothers and sisters, my husband. I have not lost my faith. Those are the unimaginable losses for me. Those are the causes of heartbreak and I am thankful that I can say I have not been heartbroken in this lifetime of mine.
We attempted this whole IUI thing in December but my body rebelled, my meds weren't quite right and we couldn't do the actual procedure. January rolls around and we were ready steady go. After a few bobbles, a lot of tears and wondering if this would all work this time around we were able to complete a cycle.
Then came the waiting....waiting...waiting. Was that a twinge? Was that a cramp? Am I more tired than I usually am? Ew what's that smell? Is this all in my head? Truth: I was way more tired than normal and a little queasy. But the beginning of this week came, along with a blood draw and a few hours of bated breath waiting. And sadly that afternoon brought the heart bruising news that we were not yet destined to be parents. Likely the increased meds are the cause of all of my "symptoms" along with a small bit of (I'll admit it) overactive desire to have those symptoms.
I have a group of girls whom I love fiercely. (They are not my only group that I love fiercely, FYI. I am blessed to have so many of these women and men in my life.) We meet and we talk and we pray and we cry and we laugh, oh how we laugh. And we study. Our current book was so timely for this week. The first chapter of this (The Storm Inside by Sheila Walsh if you're interested) is about heartbreak. She talks about how the very essence of being heartbroken is to have unimaginable loss. She talks about the difference between burdens and loads and how we need others to help carry our burdens but loads can be borne alone. Most importantly she says "God has promised you that whatever you face, you are not alone. He knows your pain. He loves you. And He will bring you through the fire." on page 13 (not trying to plagerize, y'all!).
I am amazed daily these days how I am exactly where I need to be and surrounded by those who will help bear our burdens. That doesn't mean that I get to share my rucksack of issues...you know, my load. There are things that I need to keep to myself. Things to discuss with God. Things to try and change. (Like my temper when I'm in traffic. Really, who's going to help bear that one? I can't stand it and it's mine.) Things that I seek counsel on from my a friend who is iron sharpening iron, but who doesn't try to share my load. In the end only I can do something about those things.
This faith doesn't mean that I don't hurt, that I don't rage at times over how unfair this is. That I don't get angry, and that some days I need others to cover me in prayer because I can't bring myself to talk to my beautiful, loving, merciful Father. That I don't despair at times when looking at our finances and thinking of how different things would be if we weren't seeing specialists (don't worry, y'all, we're good). That I don't cry tears of grief over a child we have yet to know because that desire to know them is so strong.
But He will bring me through the fire. Through the fire. He doesn't promise I won't be changed or even singed, but that I will survive. I know that not everyone who reads my posts believes the same things I do. But this is where I find my comfort, along with DH, family and friends who have wrapped us up in gentle arms this week as we're feeling our bruises, moving carefully around the sore spots and wondering how long the healing may take. Despite our bruised hearts, we're not heartbroken. This is not an unimaginable loss for us. We knew that this round might not work, and that actually no round might work. There are no guarantees when it comes to this fertility rollercoaster. My only guarantee is that while I am bruised and battered, this experience will not cover the rest of my life. I have not lost a parent, a child, my brothers and sisters, my husband. I have not lost my faith. Those are the unimaginable losses for me. Those are the causes of heartbreak and I am thankful that I can say I have not been heartbroken in this lifetime of mine.
Monday, February 2, 2015
Silver Spoon Adventure: Week 2 - Beef Stroganoff
Well readers, this one isn't nearly as funny. Or as colorful, come to think of it. I love my version of beef stroganoff which is probably as American as it comes. My version is elbow macaroni, a handful of mushrooms, a pound of ground beef and a can of cream of mushroom soup. That's it. If I'm feeling frisky I add in some paprika. Finito (you're all jealous of that Italiano, I know you are!).
The Silver Spoon beef stroganoff, or Bue Alla Stroganoff, is straight from scratch. There's heavy cream and strong mustard and a half cup of butter. First off, what the heck is strong mustard? Even Google failed me. I couldn't find anything on "strong" mustard except that Dijon can be strong and extra strong. Kroger had neither. In fact they had no strong mustard anywhere. So we went with Dijon because at least it was supposed to have strong brethren. I almost had to sneak the butter in because DH was watching and he's a butter Nazi. Maybe a butter Fascist working for Il Duce?
You must have a Revolver Boch when making homemade stroganoff.
The outcome was good but very beige. It was heavy and a little too tart for me. I'm guessing it was the cream and lemon juice mixture...almost like sour cream, but not quite. It didn't specify what kind of noodles to use, so we improvised with whatever we had on hand.
As you can see below...it's all one color. All. One. Color.
The Verdict: When we make it the next time we might try a lighter cream or 2% milk, and I'll probably cut the sugar completely or at least by 1/2. Oh and I'll make something a color other than beige or slightly orange.
We froze the extra and ended up having it with linguine later on in the month. I liked it much better the second time. Maybe it was the noodles?
Up Next: Roman Spring Lamb
The Silver Spoon beef stroganoff, or Bue Alla Stroganoff, is straight from scratch. There's heavy cream and strong mustard and a half cup of butter. First off, what the heck is strong mustard? Even Google failed me. I couldn't find anything on "strong" mustard except that Dijon can be strong and extra strong. Kroger had neither. In fact they had no strong mustard anywhere. So we went with Dijon because at least it was supposed to have strong brethren. I almost had to sneak the butter in because DH was watching and he's a butter Nazi. Maybe a butter Fascist working for Il Duce?
You must have a Revolver Boch when making homemade stroganoff.
The outcome was good but very beige. It was heavy and a little too tart for me. I'm guessing it was the cream and lemon juice mixture...almost like sour cream, but not quite. It didn't specify what kind of noodles to use, so we improvised with whatever we had on hand.
As you can see below...it's all one color. All. One. Color.
The Verdict: When we make it the next time we might try a lighter cream or 2% milk, and I'll probably cut the sugar completely or at least by 1/2. Oh and I'll make something a color other than beige or slightly orange.
We froze the extra and ended up having it with linguine later on in the month. I liked it much better the second time. Maybe it was the noodles?
Up Next: Roman Spring Lamb
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