Infliction of Infertility

Dear Readers,
I'm afraid I may have alarmed you with the title of this post, so let me begin with some happy news. The Black Belt and I are expecting a baby! We are more than halfway through the pregnancy now, and we are very excited.

I wanted to write this post, though, because getting to this point wasn't what I'd call "a walk in the park," and I definitely gained new perspectives on things that I didn't even realize there might be new perspectives on! I don't know if anyone reading this needs this or not, but I felt like sharing might help someone out there in some way.

I won't force too many personal details onto you in this post, but like I said, we had to wait a long time after we decided we wanted to start a family to actually start a family. At first, I didn't think much of it, because we weren't feeling urgent about it, and I knew that these things can take time. But after several months, I couldn't deny that some things were just not right with me, so I went to the doctor. She talked to me about what plan we should take, starting with some medicine, then maybe doing a couple of different tests, and then if need be, consulting a fertility specialist.

This was my first startling experience. "Fertility drugs? Fertility specialist? But those things are just for couples struggling with infertility! We're not one of those couples! That would be way too scary and difficult. We just need help getting me straightened out so we can have a baby.........oh." Suddenly it hit me that no one really goes into life pre-labled "Couple Struggling With Infertility." I used to hear about people having treatments and taking medicines, and I didn't appreciate how unsettling and discouraging it was for them, because to me, of course they were used to it! They're a CSWI! I even remember on occasion hearing people I knew saying they had started taking fertility medicine, and I'd think, "Why? You're not a CSWI." I don't know why I was so naive about this, but I realize now that infertility is a lot more common and a lot more varying than I used to think.

After a few months, our doctor sent us to a fertility specialist, because she felt like she didn't really know what else to do for us. At first, I was resentful, because I felt like she was giving up on us, and again, that I didn't need a fertility specialist because that was too extreme for our situation. But guess what--I LOVED our new doctor. He was so knowledgable, and so at ease with everything that I couldn't help but feel confident under his care. That was a huge blessing, because here's another thing I learned to appreciate about infertility: It takes a toll.

Under this kind of treatment, you lose a little control over your own life. The schedule is very rigid, because if your body decides that today is the day that some measure needs to be taken, you can't delay it to a more convenient time. And thank goodness for a doctor who understood that and always fit me in whenever necessary! It would be awful to be told, "Sorry, we don't have any time today. You'll have to wait till next month." (Because, keep in mind, that at this point, the lack of urgency we'd been feeling was completely gone.) You started watching month after month go by and realize how quickly those months might turn into years. It's a very scary feeling. So, you HAVE to follow the schedule nature sets for you, no matter how inconvenient it is or how exhausted you are from everything you're going through.

The other thing I mean by, "It takes a toll," is that your body goes through a lot. At one time, you might be on several different medicines that are all doing crazy things to your hormones and your energy level and who knows what else. You have to go see the doctor multiple times a month and have ultrasounds and blood tests, over and over and over. All those visits and all of those unpleasant symptoms are very similar to what someone who is expecting a baby goes through--except that when you're doing it for infertility, you don't have a baby to look forward to at the end.

That brings me to what's probably the hardest thing about it all. There's no guarantee that there will ever be a baby at the end of it all. When you start a new round of drugs and have all your tests and everything again, and then you find out at the end of the month that it didn't work, it's not like, at least you made some progress. The result of not being pregnant is exactly the same as if you hadn't done any of that at all--if you hadn't put your body through the craziness and discomfort and hadn't rearranged your schedule and spent all that money and gotten your hopes up again, only to be dashed, again. You can't think, "Well, we're one step closer!" Because you might very well not be. You might go through it again and again and still be disappointed every time.

And that, dear readers, is the hardest part of it all. When you're recovering from illness or serious injury, you can look back and see the strides you've made, and look forward and see how much better you will be in time. But with infertility, you just don't know. And the only remedy that I found for that was faith in the Lord that He has a plan for me and my family and that things would happen in His own time. Now that we're on this end of it, I guess I still don't say, "I'm so glad we went through that!" but I can say, very vehemently, that I am grateful for this baby. I am grateful for the blessing of being able to carry a child, and I am grateful for the trust God is putting in us to send us one of His children.

I've heard so many ladies speak casually about, "Maybe after the school year I'll have another baby," or, "I hated being pregnant! I got so fat!" and I just want to say, "Please, please be grateful." Dear readers who are parents, please be grateful for your children. To any expectant mothers, please be grateful for those aches and pains that mean your baby is growing. To any couples dreaming and hoping for parenthood, use this time to enjoy each other. Enjoy being a family of two. And remember that God knows you and loves you and will never leave you alone.