National Infertility Awareness Week 2017

Time heals all wounds, right?

Wrong.

Wounds might be easier to deal with. The pain slightly easier to bear.

But they are never truly healed.

Some days it just hits you and today was one of those days.

Our fertility struggle started more than 5 years ago. Our loss 1202 days ago. I’ve had two beautiful, healthy, happy children since then.

But that doesn’t change the loss and pain we endured to get here.

While the sadness and grief no longer consume me, there is a piece of my heart that still mourns that lost little love, each negative pregnancy test, each time I was told no or maybe next time.

Today was a normal day, as I loaded up the kids and left for our MOPs meeting (Moms of Preschoolers).

Today’s speaker spoke about her journey through infertility and loss. Her story was tragic and heartbreaking, something no one should have to go through. I sat there and cried with her.

After our speaker finished, we were provided discussion questions to use at our table.

Today, I heard several very brave women, share their stories of fertility struggles and losses. It humbled me to watch their bravery unfold. They shared their pain. Their battle.

When it was my turn to share, I was surprised when I had to stop and try (not very successfully) to regain some composure.

I’ve been quite open about what we’ve been through. It’s been awhile since I really talked about that blazing, joyous moment of finding out we were pregnant to that heart-wrenching, life altering moment when we weren’t.

I remember thinking to myself how weird it was that I was crying, I feel like I don’t usually cry when I talk about our journey anymore.

As I’ve shared our struggled throughout the last few years, I’ve spoken with quite a few people who struggled too, with infertility, secondary infertility or miscarriages. But being in a room with so many wonderful people, many of whom had this shared experience was empowering. Even through all of the accompanying sadness, it proved, again, I was not alone.

I’m not.

And you are not alone.

 

Listen up.

Don’t suffer in silence.

Check out Resolve to learn more about National Infertility Awareness Week and more available resources.

And when you’re not looking…

So I’ve been sitting on this post for a few months now because I wasn’t sure I even believed what was happening.

After all the struggles we went through to have our sweet L, we knew we would start thinking about a sibling sooner rather than later.

So in March I called a fertility clinic out here, since obviously we’d have to switch since the move from Hawaii.

We had an appointment scheduled for mid-May. I wasn’t sure I was ready to go through that process again, to put L through it. I didn’t like how I felt on Follistim and I hated the person I became during cycles, counting days, timing things, watching the clock. It was exhausting and I couldn’t imagine doing that with a one year old around.

But we scheduled the appointment, wanted to see what our options would be here, and hoped that we’d be adding to our family by the end of the year.

Instead, we had a little miracle happen.

At the beginning of May, I’d been feeling awful. Short of breath, dizzy, exhausted. Just not myself. I was getting ready to call a PCM because I knew something wasn’t quite right and I was just days away from running my first half marathon.

I took a test to rule that out because I knew in my gut there was no way. Not even an option with our issues.

I was shaking and confused when I saw, very clearly, a positive.

I remember falling to my knees and sobbing. Sweet L, with no idea what was happening, came over and hugged me. As I sat there and hugged him back I said thank you over and over and over to him, for helping fix whatever was broken with me. He healed my broken heart and his existence made this possible. He changed everything for us.

Here are some photos we shared of our sweet guy, telling the world what an awesome big brother he will be!

Infertility after a baby

L has been the most amazing little person we could have hoped for. His smile lights up our entire world. He gives the best hugs. He has the bluest eyes. He’s funny and adventurous. To us, he is perfect no matter how many sleepless nights we have.

Now that he is nearly a year (how did that happen?!) we have to look at the reality we face.

We had always dreamed of having at least two children, never knowing how difficult just  having one would be.

We love L and our world is complete with him in it. But we never wanted him to be an only child. And that’s what we’re facing.

I’m an only child and I had a great childhood. But that wasn’t our dream for our family.

So do we accept that this is what our family will look like? Or do we fight again? What if we have another miscarriage? Is it fair to put L through it?

The thought of going through all of the testing and the disappointment again weighs on me enough. But putting Logan through that emotional roller coaster with me breaks my heart.

I was not my best self those two years of infertility issues. I hid. I cried a lot. I ruined friendships.

This time we know what to expect, so maybe it will be easier. This time I have this tiny human who makes even the worst day better, so maybe that will help. And maybe knowing that it can work, and what the outcome is, will help.

But still, the disappointment and the frustration of something you thought would be so easy, just eats at you.

I wonder what it’s like to look at your spouse and say hey, let’s have a baby. And couple weeks later, boom! I’ll never know that feeling.

Siggyforblog

Start Asking questions

This is my third year supporting National Infertility Awareness Week (check out more information here)

The theme this year is #StartAsking . What does that mean?

It’s time to start asking questions about infertility and what can be done about it.

With two healthy young adults, I knew that a year of trying on our own, something just wasn’t right.

We had no idea what we were doing and no one in either of our families (that we know of) had been through something like this.

We felt alone and ashamed asking for help but we decided that’s what we needed to do. My OB heard my story and put me on medication (clomid) that ended up being an absolutely disaster. Then we tried the next thing (femara) before we were finally sent to an RE.

I wish in those months, I would have known more. I wish I would have asked questions.

Clomid messed me up pretty badly and I wish I would have know to have more monitoring done during that time frame. Who knows what it ended up doing to my system.

Finally with the RE we learned to ask the right questions. Side effects, the entire process, the entire cost since our insurance didn’t help with a lot. What were our options? What was our back up plan? What were the chances?

Some of the answers, we didn’t like. Some answers were scary. But the more we asked, the more we started to take back control in this very lonely process.

I also started to ask, why me? What about everyone else? The more I thought about it, I started to share our journey, which was very cathartic for me. And that’s when I learned that I wasn’t alone. And it wasn’t just us. I felt less alone. While I was sad others were dealing with this struggle, feeling less isolated definitely helped me navigate how to cope with everything we were facing. We got there by asking questions and doing our research too.

Siggyforblog