I know these words are true, but here I sit, writing the blog I hoped I would never have to write. Thinking I should sensor it, but knowing people need to know the truth about the struggle with infertility. I know my God has a greater plan for us, but that doesn't make the heartache any less. That doesn't erase the conversation I had with our nurse Friday afternoon.
"Hi Krystal, how are you?" "I'm good! How are you?" "Well, sweetheart, I would be better if I had good news for you. Unfortunately, your test results were negative."
Negative. Normally you want negative test results from the doctor. But not with in vitro. Not when you felt you were so close to your dreams finally coming true. Not after...
- 4 years
- $18,000 out of pocket for medical expenses
- 30+ doctor visits
- 5 different doctor's offices
- 2100+ miles driven back and forth
- 2 surgeries prior IVF
- 20+ tubes of blood
- 5 IV's
- 42 injections (shots) in less than two months
- 91 pills in less than two months
Two months 24/7 dedication and work towards your dream. So many shots, pills, needles, doctors visits, hopes, prayers, talks of our future. For 10 days, I placed my hand on my belly and cheered those two embryos on. For 10 days, I had to hope and assume I was pregnant. For 10 days, I was the closest to being pregnant I've ever been. Not knowing those little embryos never made it. None of our little embryos survived this battle. But we were so hopeful. Lists of baby names. A Pinterest board full of nursery ideas. "Oh my gosh, what if both embryos take and we have twins?!", we would say with a laugh. Endless dreams of holding our newborn for the very first time, wondering who they look more like. The excitement and anticipation shopping for baby's first Christmas, waiting for their first words, imagining what their little laugh would sound like. Favorite foods, first steps, tiny hands in ours, family vacations making memories and full of laughter, dirty messes completely worth it, toys all over the living room floor, bedtime stories, first day of kindergarten pictures, more smiles and laughter and love than we could ever imagine. All torn away again. With that one simple word. Negative. I had imagined that phone call from our doctor's office a hundred times. And that's not how I imagined it would go.
My heart is broken. I know God has a plan. But that doesn't make me any less sad. That didn't stop me from sobbing in the shower asking God "But I thought you were for me?" I know He has a plan. I know He is for me. But still, I'm sad. Still, I'm mad. I'm ashamed that I can't do the one thing that all women should be able to do. And I'm hurting for those that have had to hear that word over and over again. These women are superheroes to bear that kind of pain and keep going. Two weeks ago I was in so much pain, I thought, I could never do this again. But now, I know I could. Because I may have to.
But right now, I'm grieving for our loss. That's what infertility is. It's the loss of a dream. It's the loss of a future. It's the loss of a sweet little child, that every day you wonder how you can already have so much love for something that's never even existed for you. And then it dies. Over and over again. And your heart breaks. Over and over again. And you become jaded and bitter. And you get angry and jealous because it seems every one in the world can have children but you. By now, your friends haven't just had one child during your struggle, but they've had two or three. And you're so incredibly happy for them, but at the same time, it's just a gut wrenching reminder of what you don't have and what you can't do. And the adoption process is long and expensive and difficult. And you've received numerous advice from non-professionals as to what you should and shouldn't do and try. And you've heard plenty of comments that God doesn't agree with in vitro. And you see the news of babies being murdered, abortions happening every minute, unfit mothers having a dozen babies they don't even want, and you can't even have one. It's infuriating. But above all, it's heartbreaking. Completely, utterly, devastatingly heartbreaking.
But, I know He has a plan, specifically designed and laid out for us. I have to believe this. So while we grieve, while we struggle to understand something we'll probably never understand, and while we wait, I'll put my faith in that. Because at this point, we're exhausted physically, emotionally, and financially, so we really don't have any other choice. This isn't the end of our journey, apparently it's only the beginning.
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