Closure, Freedom, and Miracles

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.

12 thoughts on “Closure, Freedom, and Miracles

  1. All of your feelings are reasonable and make sense! I can totally identify with your jealousy. I’ve convinced myself that IVF only works for people who would’ve gotten pregnant naturally eventually. And that is the least of my hateful feelings. There is definitely a certain degree of resignation that comes with all the disappointment. Take that vacation, have that glass of wine, fertility treatments will work or not work regardless of it they are your number one priority.

  2. Your last paragraph about the wanting to stop wondering…that is the hardest part for me. Comparing myself against everyone else, like it’s a race. We obviously all realize that the rest of the world is not expected to stop procreating until AFTER we become pregnant, but it sure would be nice. ha! Oh, and I am also jealous of women who got pregnant on their first IVF go around. I know it’s totally nuts, but once you’re on your third transfer it seems like only one try with IVF is such a Godsend! Of course, I do realize how hard it still was for those women. It’s just weird the way our perspective changes the longer we’re on this journey, isn’t it?

    • You both really hit the nail on the head here… it’s almost too much to accept that life DOES go on outside of our crazy-IVF worlds. I think that’s where half of my anxiety comes from each and every day… just waiting for someone else to drop the bomb that THEY are expecting, and they didn’t have to endure the awfulness that I STILL am. What I wish everyone could understand is… yes, I’m thrilled that they are pregnant, but I have wounds that run so deep, it’s almost impossible to share a happiness that is so far out of reach.

      As always Allison, you nailed it with this post… I don’t feel like this could possibly be my life sometimes either… and every time a cycle ends with a BFN, I can’t help but wonder… is this a punishment? I know that may seem completely morbid, but I’m tired of His plan! I am NOT strong and this IS breaking me down into a person I’m often not proud of being.

      I’m thankful for you ladies AND that you get it…


  3. I know just what you mean about needing closure. My local doctor always told me that she really believed I would he pregnant…. Someday (with my own eggs- she would tell me to not even think about DE). It was great hearing that at first, but with every passing failed cycle, it would make me mad. It didn’t (and still hasn’t) given me any closure.

    Thinking of you! XO

  4. I get this and I haven’t even been down the IVF road yet. Everyone says, “you’re so young” and “time is on your side” and “you’ve got ages to figure this out” but A- I don’t want to be stuck HERE in this mess for ages. I want to move on with my life, and B- if I suck at procreating NOW at 27 and THEN at 25, how much MORE will I suck at 30, or 32?!? It feels like a race to move on and a race to beat my rapidly declining fertility chances.

    I’m so sorry you’re here, in this crappy, awful, unfair place. Thinking of you often! Hugs!

    • You’re so right, Amanda. I hate the “You’re so young.” and all that crap. I’ve been hearing that for years. Well, guess what? I WAS 23 when this process started for me. Now I’m almost 26. I guess it took sticking a needle up my you-know-what to retrieve my eggs and examine them to determine that maybe my age has NOTHING to do with it, obviously. I know my case is very rare … or unique is the word my doctors like to use. Most women my age, younger and older, won’t deal with this odd combination of high response but poor quality. But being 27, 28, 29 isn’t going to help me either. And it doesn’t matter anyway what age we are when we’re ready to be mothers. Until we’re there, we’re stuck. Gosh, it does feel like a race. It’s the biggest, most ugly “item on my list,” and I just want to cross it off already!

  5. “There is just too much that I can’t control—but, in return, so much controls my emotions, my life.” I 100% understand this feeling. Being only 24 I feel like I have let this journey get the best of me. Always wondering if I’ll be pregnant or nursing a baby by my next bday or will I be dying in envy and jealousy. Sometimes I over analyze everything and I go crazy. It’s time for us to just kick rocks and not let this journey get the best of us. We have to enjoy every moment of our life and embrace this journey as an eye opener to a whole new world. I wish u the best of luck on ur next cycle.

  6. Thank you for this post. I completely agree, that is one messed up miracle! I feel you describe so much of how I feel right now. I too have said I will quit saying I will be pregnant by this or that, but it is so HARD when everyone else around you is handed what we have to fight with all our might to get. I’m sorry and wish you all the happiness in the world.

  7. I can see that you’re struggling. Hopefully you’ll find the closure or release that you need. Maybe that’s it. The release. It is easy to say but so very hard to do. It was the turning point for me. Letting go of the control and knowing in my heart the I will choose happiness in my life regardless of the outcome. I’ve been going through infertility for almost 5 years. That’s a long time. It took a long time for me to be somewhat at peace. I hope that you find that soon….whatever that looks like for you. Hugs!

  8. I feel like I could have written this awhile ago. We did 8 IUIS and 3 IVFs and just got pregnant. But the thing that KILLED me was the “when?” and “what if?” I hated it. I too was guilty of “maybe by my 28th, 29th, 30th bday. It becomes an obsession. I am so so sorry you are in the trenches of this feeling the pain of it all. I remember getting jealous of people who got pregnant on their first IVF too. The whole thing isn’t fair and is frustrating. It sounds like you are going to keep fighting! I read somewhere that 99% of people that seek help/treatment eventually have a child (including surrogate, donor, etc). Hugs!

    • Holly, that 99% statistic is very encouraging. Thank you for reaching out and relating to me even though you’re “on the other side.” I feel like so many women struggle, fight, suffer with their infertile friends, but when they get pregnant, they forget and move on and act like all the annoying fertiles out there who don’t have a care in the world. And, pardon me, THAT was the Lupron in my body talking. 😉 8 IUIs and 3 IVFs sounds like hell. Congratulations on conquering infertility an don being pregnant!!!

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