People often say that God doesn’t necessarily answer our prayers how and/or when we want Him to. That’s not an easy thing to hear.
I’m warning you now—this is going to be quite the rambling post.
For a long time, all I’ve wanted was closure. Obviously, my preferred method of closure would be gripping the birthing bed in labor pains awaiting the arrival of my looooooong-anticipated baby/babies.
But what if that doesn’t happen? What if that never happens?
In the end, I just want to be happy. I want closure.
None of this is a guarantee. I’m jumping into donor egg land while my husband still wants to give my eggs their two more chances. Why do I believe donor eggs are a guarantee? A year ago—when we packed up our lives and moved here for IVF—I truly believed IVF, alone, was a guarantee.
I mean isn’t IVF enough?
I think God makes miracles happen. Those unexpected pregnancies after adopting. The sweet surprise of those two pink lines at the end of a break cycle. Those truly are miracles. But not everyone gets a miracle.
What if the other miracles are the stories of people who fight and fight and fight; find and save money and then throw it all away on a failed cycle; sacrifice holidays with family or vacations or LIFE; battle against their own bodies, willing it to start its period or not start its period or ovulate or not ovulate—all for it to end with no baby, but they have to pick themselves up, endure their longest, most painful, but final actual grieving process, and—finally—find closure?
What if that’s the miracle God has in store for some of us? It sounds like one f***** up miracle to me. But, seriously, what if that’s it?
If that’s a possibility, for goodness sake, I just want to be happy.
With or without a baby, I think I can end up at that place of happiness. I can have everlasting joy in my life. The lack of closure is what really makes it hard.
What if we lived in a different time and our only option was child-free living? Even adoption can put you through the ringer, though I think time really can be on your side regarding adoption. It doesn’t make the yeeeeeeeeeears of waiting any easier. Never the less, pregnancy is a dream you might as well say goodbye to. But—would it be easier if we could have closure early on and move on with our lives? Sometimes I think it would be. During the early days of my journey, I literally wished that God would take my uterus out so I could just have closure—because there was no way the money would come any time soon—if ever—for IVF. Oh IVF—the solution to all our problems.
Please don’t take offense to this statement, but can you believe that I am actually starting to become jealous of women who only had to endure one IVF cycle?
“Oh, you’re completely fertile and conceived your triplets while on birth control and your partner used a condom?!”
“Well, you’ve got nothing on me. I got pregnant with my baby after ONE IVF CYCLE! Take that!”
Like—that’s kind of how I feel. It’s weird, but it’s true.
I’ve been living my life for IVF. I’ve been scheduling my world around it. I don’t want to do that anymore. So, the next cycle interferes with my travel plans? Okay, it’ll have to be put off for another month.
I know many of you can relate to the feeling of wanting to keep going and not take a break and just GET TO THE FINISH LINE ALREADY.
I have felt and do feel that way too. But I can’t fight anymore. What’s the point in living my life TODAY for IVF? The choices I make today for my next IVF cycle may result in absolutely nothing. I’m not talking about the healthy choices I make. I mean the choices I make because I’m choosing this cycle over a rewarding experience. Or … I’m choosing to wish away my days until my next cycle instead of realizing that maybe the next cycle won’t even be the cycle.
Does that make any sense? I just hate that we have to fight so hard for something that might be nothing. Instead, I want that something or nothing to work around my life.
As an example of this overall idea I’m trying to convey: One year from now seems like freaking forever. What if God told me I would get pregnant a year from now? That would kind of suck. But—I’ll take it; I’ll take anything. Well, the panic associated with that extreme amount of time to wait seems unbearable. But what if I remind myself that my IVF journey started a year ago? What if I remind myself that I have been doing IVF for nine months? And I really mean it—nine months. No breaks. Not one of my cycles has been purely non-medicated since the beginning of December 2012.
Life keeps on going. Times keeps moving, cycles will come and go, cycles may come and end with pure joy. But time will continue to keep moving.
What are my choices? I have to cope with a life that I didn’t dream of. I have to make the choice to be happy.
And, trust me, the fact that I am telling myself this is a miracle. My husband describes me as full throttle—not the gas pedal. I don’t have time for planning; only time to start running toward that finish line NOW—even though I … errr … don’t know where it is. I don’t actually think this is wise, but my actions display otherwise: It’s like there’s a fork in the road, and I acknowledge the fork but sprint in one of the directions without knowing or guessing or analyzing if it’s the best one. I just GO. It’s like I don’t want to live because I just want to get to the friggin’ finish line. It’s pure insanity. It’s out of control. I can’t believe this is my life sometimes. I don’t actually know how it feels to be 40 years old, but I feel like I am sometimes. I can’t believe I am 25 years old and this is my life.
This failed cycle has been a turning point for me. It’s shown me that I need to make some adjustments in my life. I have a hole in my heart. I’ve been carrying that hole for so long. I honestly don’t know if it will ever go away, if it ever can go away. This has scarred me; I will NEVER forget this journey. People who somehow forget their infertility journeys—I don’t understand those people.
I feel like I’m at a point of pseudo closure. I will keep going. This isn’t actually the end. But this is the end of how I’ve been fighting this battle. Because I can’t do it anymore. I can negotiate, I can be strategic, I can be analytical. But I can’t fight. I still have grit and determination, but this has broken me. There is just too much that I can’t control—but, in return, so much controls my emotions, my life.
I’m going to stop wondering if I’ll be pregnant by my next birthday, or next Christmas, or my next dentist appointment … or before that newlywed couple gets pregnant. Or that woman has her second baby … or third baby.
I just want to live. I just want freedom.