What I told myself.

Over the last year, everything in my life seemed to revolve around making Baby Seidler happen.  I hoped, I prayed, I wished that something would work, that somehow I would become pregnant again.  After many months, many appointments, many needle pokes, and many prescriptions taken, nothing had worked.

In December of last year, I decided to put things on hold for awhile.  We were traveling, so that made sense.  Then January came and S was away for training, so it made sense then too.  I had started working out again heavily and knew that being back in the fertility treatment game would throw things off, so taking February off made sense too.  Well, then came March.  I didn't want to start again, but I did.  All of it.  When the result was once again a negative, I knew I didn't want to try again in April.  I wanted to take time to put everything I could into working out and getting healthy again.

Or at least that's what I told myself.

In reality, I think I just couldn't take the heartbreak of another failed month when if whatever... the cycle didn't work.  I knew that the time was ever so slowly creeping up when they would tell me an iui was the next best option.  I didn't want to hear that.  And so, somewhere along the way, the idea began to settle into my head and heart that if it never happened, if it never worked and a baby was just not part of God's plan for my life, I'd be ok.

Or at least that's what I told myself.

It wasn't so much that I was giving up as it was I just truly believed maybe I wasn't meant to be a mother.  And at some point, I was going to have to learn to accept that, so, the sooner the better.

And then I watched this video.

Have you seen it?  It's completely adorable and exciting and good in all the right ways.  This couple, who also struggled with infertility, finally became pregnant... with TRIPLETS!  They told all their family and friends they were having twins though and at the gender revealed, surprised everyone with the news.

I don't know what it was, maybe it was just the excitement, maybe it's because I know their struggle, or maybe it's just because I take after my mom and can cry at a commercial occasionally, but whatever it was, I sat on the stairs of our house watching and crying.  Sobbing, really.  It made me think I want that.  I.Want.That.  I eventually went into our bedroom and hid myself away to spare myself the embarrassment of having to explain to S that I was crying over a video of people I don't even know.

I think it's easy to give up on the things we want in life.  I didn't really see myself as giving up, because I figured at some point I'd plunge back into it, but I didn't know if I'd ever want to, if I'd ever really be ready again.  If I'd ever be mentally, emotionally, physically ready to try, and if it failed, deal with the heartbreak.

This kind of lit of fire under me though.  It reminded me of everything I wanted and why I wanted it.  I've loved having this time off, time to devote to me and my health, and I don't know when I'll start up again, but I know that when I do, I'll be ready.  I'll want it, and I'll be prepared to fight for it.

Sometimes all it takes is a random thing, a random moment, a random video, to stir up the fight in you again.  If you're struggling with something and ready to give up, don't.  There's a reason you wanted it in the first place, there's a purpose for it, and I have no doubt that God put that desire in your life, in my life, for a reason.  Believe that.

You're not alone. Except when you are.

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week.  

Last year, even after suffering a miscarriage, I was unaware of this week.  I was unaware that I would be, was, am one of those 1 in 8.  

I.Had.No.Idea.

Now I do.  

I'm painfully, tearfully, frustratingly aware of what it means to be 1 in 8.

The catchphrase, if you will, of this week is, "You are not alone."

In some ways, that's true.  1 in every 8 people get it.  They understand the frustration, the struggle, the tears, the fears, the unknowns of infertility.  In fact, there's an entire community of people that you are not alone with.

In other ways though, maybe most ways, infertility has never made me more aware of my aloneness.

Even if you are surrounded by people -- family, friends, coworkers -- most of them will at some point have kids.  You won't.  You can't. Your friends, the ones you once had so much in common with, don't seem to be as in touch as they used to.  They start to make friends that have kids, and their bond goes deeper, goes to something you just can't understand because you haven't been there.  You may never be there.  

In a world where 1 in 8 understand, there are still 7 in 8 that don't.

When I'm in the midst of doing treatments, I'm acutely aware of how different I am from those around me.  But it's times like now, times when I've stepped back, when the appointments stop, when the blood draws stop, when the medications aren't being taken, that I can pretend I'm of of the 7.  How badly I wish I was.  For a moment, I can pretend that I'm normal.  That my life hasn't, doesn't, won't continually revolve around appointments and blood draws and medications.

But it has.  It does.  It will.

And with every month that passes, that fact is made known over, and over, and over again.

Despite that, I'm still thankful.  I'm thankful for the struggles, the tears, the fears, the frustrations, the anger.  There has been so much growth, and I am who I am today because of being 1 of the 8.

And in the end, I am not alone.

Except when I am.

Goodbye. For now.

CD1.

Cycle day 1.

For those of you that don't know what it means, it means I'm not pregnant.  Again.  Still.  Whatever.

It means that all those appointments, all those pills, all those shots, all of it didn't work.  Again.
It was pointless.  Again.

I think I've reached the point where it's too hard to keep trying but hurts too much to think about quitting.

My body is tired.
My mind is tired.
My hope is dwindling.

My fear is that none of this will work and they'll tell me an iui is the next logical step.  Well.  An iui (intrauterine insemination) costs roughly $1000 each time.  We are a 1 income, military family with bills and loans and 2 kids (S's boys) that all require money.  So can we save for it?  Sure.  We probably could.  But let's say we do an iui and it doesn't work.  We just blew $1000 that could have been put towards another bill, loan, or existing kid.  Now we start the saving process again.  How long does this process continue before it works, before the money we've potentially saved and spent is worth it?

I wouldn't say I'm necessarily giving up, but honestly, I don't see an end in sight.  I don't see a point where this is over and the payoff is worth it.  And I really don't know how much longer I can keep going.  How much longer I want to keep going.

This may all sound contradictory to what I've been preaching this entire time, that God's plan is greater and I have faith it will all work out, and I still believe that 100%.  I just think maybe God's plan is different than the plan I have.  Had.  I do believe it will work out, but maybe it's going to work out in a way I didn't imagine.  Maybe the life I dreamed of and planned, isn't the life I'm going to get.

I still have some of my meds leftover from this last cycle, so, at least for now, the plan is to take April off.  Give it a rest, let my body recover and be med free for a little bit.  Then in May, I'll pick it back up.  I'm certainly not going to let good meds go to waste, but I think May will be the last cycle for awhile.

My head isn't in this.
My body isn't in this.
Most importantly, my heart isn't in this.

It wasn't too long ago that I was over the moon to finally be at the point where I could say, we are officially trying.  But that trying, and trying, and trying, and trying, wears a person out.  Mostly mentally.  At some point, you want to see the reward of all that trying.  I haven't gotten that.  I don't know if I will.  And honestly, I'm oddly at peace with it.  I think I've accepted that maybe a baby just isn't in the cards.  All the cute baby clothes and nursery decorations and bottles and swings and all the tiny things, it just might not happen.

Maybe it will.
Maybe it won't.  

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Whatever will be, will be, and as long as at the end of the day, at the end of wherever this process takes us, God is given the glory, that something good comes of it, then it will have been worth it.