Dear Husband

Dear Husband,

I want you to know that this journey is something I never fathomed we would have to go on. Never in my wildest dreams did I think we would one day be discussing the side effects of fertility drugs over dinner.

I know I’ve been a wreck, but this mess of a situation hasn’t been easy on you either. I know it has to be hard on you watching me cry, become self-conscious and distant for no reason. For that, I am sorry. I wish this could be easier on the both of us, really. Neither one of us deserve to wonder if we will ever get the chance to be parents. Some days I wonder if you had just married someone else, you wouldn’t have had to go through all of this.

I’m sure at times you think I should just “calm down and quit ‘rushing it’.” I bet from your standpoint it must feel like I’m constantly obsessing over doctors appointments, times, sub plans, medications I need to take, temping, charting, peeing on things, etc. You are probably wondering what happened to the laid back girl you married years ago.

I need you to know though, that this truly is a pendulum of emotions for me. One minute I feel hopeful that we are going to try something new and maybe get answers or a chance at getting pregnant. The next second I am stressing that my body will continue to be a failure at the new plans set forth by our doctor. It’s hard not to question and second guess every decision that has to be made after facing so many obstacles. Is this the right thing? Is this what God would want? Is this what my husband wants?

I feel like a magic 8 ball that gets asked all the questions, but never has any good answers.

I feel like it’s easier for you to see the end goal instead of the struggles I have to face along the way. I have had to undergo painful testing, embarrassing questioning, showing a million and ten strangers my vajayjay, eat funky diets, digest crazy pills, use half of my sick days, plan minute for minute what my sub should do while I’m away at a moments notice and be the one to stare the the Big. Fat. Negative. that I see every month.

If it was as easy as us just making love and creating a baby I would LOVE to give up all that anxiety. It would be so freeing to just ‘quit hurrying and pushing things’. If only I hadn’t been told that this was only something we have a 2% chance of doing on our own. That statistic was sobering to hear. I feel like I have to do everything I can, every single day, in order to even have the opportunity to get pregnant.

Since my body is the one that has to actually do the work, I feel like I’m the one who has to bear the brunt of the burden. That’s not to say that you don’t have to carry your own weights that come with infertility, it’s just that I carry the physical ones.

During this time I need you more than ever. I need from you understanding, clarity and strength. In my weakest moments, my fearful, anxiety ridden breakdowns of self-doubt, I need you to be my rock. I need to hear those calming words, “I love you. We will make it through this.” I need reassurance that everything I’m feeling is justified and there is no answer at that moment. I need your embrace and genuine understanding of my emotion. I need you to be in my corner. I also need you to be a guide through the decision making process.

The decisions that have to be made are hard. When to move on to something new? How much of a drug is too much? What will our hard limits be as far as treatment goes? What can we afford? When do we advocate for something else in our treatment plan? These are decisions that we must face head on, together. To put it simply, it takes two to tango. This is our tango.

Above all though, I love you and couldn’t imagine going through this with anyone else. Even though there will be days that I am distant, tearful and hard to manage, deep down I could not keep going without you. You are my person. The one who understands me and knows me better than I know myself at times. You are the future father of my children. You, are my husband and one day I, will be myself again.

With Love,

Your Wife

The ‘Plan’.

How do you deal when life doesn’t go in the order that it’s supposed to? We grow up with this notion that first there is childhood, then youth, adulthood, find a partner, get married, buy a house, start a family, grow old together. What happens when the timeline gets stretched and snapped like a rubber band?

I’ve been struggling with this question throughout our year of trying for a baby and still have no clear answer, except to keep trudging onward. After meeting with our RE last Friday we decided on a plan to move on with Clomid (to stimulate my ovaries to grow eggs that are beautiful) followed by an Ovidrel trigger shot to induce ovulation and then IUI (Interuterine Insemination). I will then take progesterone suppositories until my Beta blood test to see if I am pregnant.

The plan sounded okay. I was at peace. It was the end of my cycle anyway and I should have started my period in 3 or so days and onward we would march into IUI land. I could deal with the plan.

My body, however, does not like the plan. I stopped taking progesterone pills on Sunday. This is the part where my period should arrive because the pregnancy tests says, YOU LOSE. Except, my uterus has decided to just stay perfectly content doing absolutely nothing. It is now Thursday morning (3 1/2 days since taking the last pill) and I still am not bleeding. I suppose I have had minimal spotting, but nothing super encouraging like good ole Auntie Flo was on her way.

The plan is all messed up.

I get that when you have plans, life and God will show you otherwise, but really? I just feel helpless. Completely and utterly helpless in the fact that my body fails at doing what it needs to. There is nothing more I can do. I must wait. I must be patient. I know I’m going to drive myself crazy constantly thinking about when I will be able to keep moving forward with our next steps.

To add fuel to my fiery mess of the plan we once had, my nurse had sent a prescription for the Ovidrel shot to a by mail pharmacy. I have never done this before, but trusted that it would be fine. I called the company and set up delivery for a week from now. This shot must be refrigerated and is shipped overnight to ensure quality. It is also a controlled substance and must be signed for upon delivery. Yesterday, my husband got home around 7 p.m. and noticed  a sticker on our front window. The Fed Ex people had attempted to deliver a package that needs to be signed for, but no one was here so they would attempt tomorrow.

AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

You can’t just leave Ovidrel overnight at a Fed Ex facility unrefrigerated!! It ruins the shot, it ruins everything. AND I DIDN’T EVEN ORDER IT TO BE SENT YET!!!

So here I sit. Waiting to start a plan that at this point is all jumbled up.

Screw the plan.

I was at peace with waiting for God and thought that this month was what we were waiting for. Waiting to stop temping, stressing about cycle days, etc. Apparently I was wrong.

 

Crazy Pills: Progesterone 101

Tonight I sit here, holding the pill that is supposed to solve all my problems. The pill that’s supposed to make me stop bleeding and start growing a baby, but I can’t help wondering if I will be myself in the morning.

It was recommended that I take 200 mg Progesterone (Prometrium) during my luteal phase to prevent spotting and hopefully help me get and stay pregnant. Last cycle was the first time I had taken progesterone before and boy was I shocked with how it effected me.

I remember feeling a little blue last cycle in general. A little helpless and hopeless about the whole trying to conceive journey and just kind of blah in general. When I took the progesterone pill though, my world was rocked. I literally went from this sweet people person who is an eternal optimist to a woman filled with dark, dark thoughts and just wanted to be alone.

I was in this weird emotional in-between that I had never experienced before. On one hand, I knew that the hormones were causing me to feel so…depressed. On the other, I didn’t want to talk to anyone for fear my emotions would take over and I would lose it on someone.

One day I remember coming to work and literally grouching at all the children by 8:05 a.m. My para even asked me, “Is everything okay? You just seem…off today.” I held back tears and assured her I just wasn’t feeling myself and maybe was getting sick. Little did she know I felt sick in the head.

Another day, my husband was moving cows from corn stalks (where they are all winter) to our house to prepare for calving season. I had already planned a lunch date with a dear friend of mine for the same day. That morning I felt so guilty about not helping my husband, but didn’t want to flake out on my friend. I was so conflicted I began to cry. Poor Brandon assured me they could get it done without me and I should go to lunch. About 20 minutes later he informed me his sisters were coming to help with the job and I immediately lost it. Sobbing uncontrollably because I wasn’t going to be helping them move cows home. (Seriously? I can’t believe I cried over that.)

On our farm, the cycle of life and death occurs all the time. It is especially present during calving season when some calves inevitable die due to uncontrollable circumstance. This isn’t a regular occurrence per se, but one that I have a lot of experience with and definitely don’t get worked up about anymore. (Sorry guys, that’s just my line of work.)

One Saturday morning, I was also told about a calf that had been born recently. It had been incredibly cold and the calf had become sick and died. Again, waterworks poured from my face as I mourned the loss of this poor calf. I mean, I was dry heaving about this poor calf. That was completely out of character for me!

I was afraid, self-conscious, scared, hurt and alone. Or so I felt. I was afraid that people would think I was being over dramatic and tell me to shut up. I was self-conscious that everyone around me would see that I was struggling and judge me. I was scared that my husband would get fed up with me and want to quit trying to have a baby. I was hurt that I felt so powerless in my own body. In reality, I had a loving, supportive husband who knew what was going on but not quite sure how to “fix” me.

Alone. That sums up the existence that I felt for two weeks. I felt like no one could ever know exactly what I was feeling, how out of control and unlike myself I was. How could anyone relate to that I thought. So I kept the crazy inside, hoping no one would notice too much and it would just go away.

For newbs to progesterone, the following side effects can occur: (I experienced the bolded)
– Nausea
– Bloating
– Breast tenderness
– Headache
– Change in vaginal discharge
– Mood swings
– Blurred vision
– Dizziness
– Drowsiness

Sitting holding this little pill I am terrified that I will again feel this way. I just want to be myself. I want to be happy and optimistic. I want to laugh and talk with friends. I am honestly terrified of the next two weeks.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m willing to do whatever I need to to have a baby of our own, but the struggle that has come with achieving that goal is real, and hard. So I’ve prepared a little letter for my friends, family, and co-workers:

Dear friends,

Please know that I am struggling. I am doing my best to keep my emotions under control, but I feel like I fail when taking the medications I need. I am self-conscious. I am nervous. I am depressed. I am on crazy pills and I wish I didn’t have to be!

Please don’t judge me for sitting silently in the background. Please don’t quit inviting me to do things because I may cry about the lack of windshield wiper fluid you have in your car. Could you just check on me and listen for a little bit, even though it may sound ridiculously stupid?

Know that I want to be myself again and laugh with you. I still love you and don’t want to be abandoned. Actually, I’m afraid of being abandoned right now.

Your friend,
Paige

Down the hatch my little round yellow pill goes. Chased with a shot of water. The wait begins…the agonizing, fearful wait to know if I will be myself when I wake up in the morning.