Tag Archives: fertilityjourney

A poem for National Infertility Awareness Week

April 23-29, 2017 is National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW). The CDC tells us that 15% of couples, more than 1 in 8, struggle to conceive. This seems like a surprisingly high number. But as I count those of my closest friends who have struggled with infertility, and run out of fingers on both hands, I know this is sadly a problem that all too many have faced.

I write this post today in honor of NIAW and to add my voice to the voices of many women and men experiencing the difficulties of infertility, who have shared their stories this week.

This is not the first time I have posted about my fertility struggles. You can read my previous posts by clicking the ‘INFERTILITY’ tab above or here: Our Journey to Parenthood, We Are Ready For You, Thankful for those little things, Our baby journey continues, and Strength and Faith.

As I sit down to write a new post, I ponder what facet of infertility I should write about this time. In my previous posts I have shared our fertility story to date. I have wanted to be open and honest about our journey, and it is cathartic for me to write. I hope my posts might help to dispel some of the taboo surrounding infertility, to help people to understand, to support others who might be experiencing infertility themselves or know someone who is, and to be real about one of numerous struggles we can face as humans. In addition to sharing the details of our experience, and the emotions we have felt, the over-riding theme that kept coming to me was of the lessons I’ve learned that I can share with others. Lessons on how we can deal with this messy, beautiful thing called ‘life’ – patience, perseverance, gratitude, connectedness, love, and faith, to name a few.

What should I share today? I sit. I close my eyes. I think. I feel. Words start coming into my head. Then the sound of my heart beat, loud and strong. A poem is stirring inside of me. I wait for it to come. The words pour onto the page. This is my poem:

My womb is empty, But my heart is strong.

My womb is empty,
A hollow void,
An empty chamber,
My deepest thoughts and fears,
Echoing against it’s “barren” walls.
Wanting, hoping, waiting.

But my heart is strong.
Thump, thump … thump, thump …
My blood moves through my body,
Like I move through life –
Strong.
Determined.

I hear the sound of one heartbeat,
But there is room for two.
I wait,
For the faster beat of another’s,
To join mine,
Creating a symphony.

These compositions* are beautiful, (* life with children)
Messy, but beautiful,
Louder and faster,
They can make your head spin,
Other times peaceful and soft,
Filling your heart with immense joy.

Sometimes however,
The composer writes a different song.
Choosing His timing carefully,
Waiting longer* to reveal the crescendo, (*infertility)
Some of His pieces wildly different, unexpected* (*surrogacy, adoption, life without children)
Each vital and brilliant in their own way.

Thump, thump … thump, thump …
My womb is empty,
But my heart is strong.
I feel it in my chest,
Vibrant, healthy
Letting me know that I am ALIVE!

Lydia Kluge 4/29/17

Strength and Faith

strength and faith

How do we stay strong during disappointments and sadness? How do we stay faithful when it seems our prayers are not being answered?

I drag myself along the trail. My feet plod slowly on the dusty path…thud, thud, thud. They feel like they are made of lead. My heart is heavy too, pulling me downwards by an invisible thread, almost anchoring me to the spot. My whole body carries the weight of my sadness. I force my arms to swing and continue slowly forward, trying to physically propel myself out of my grief, trying not to get stuck, paralyzed in my disappointment and fear.

At the same time as I make my slow progress by foot along a dirt path, my husband does the same thing, but by bike. Our chosen methods to deal with our sadness – getting out in nature to think and breathe. The sun begins to drop in the sky, bathing everything in her soft gold rays. When we get home Jeff tells me he feels the burden of our sadness too. He says he feels deflated. “The wind taken out of our sails”, I murmur.

Last time we had learned about our IVF failure I had wanted to run or ride as fast as I could. I had wanted to exercise, breathe hard, feel my heart racing, push myself to my limit, (especially after two weeks of mostly sedentary resting/waiting). I had wanted to remind myself how strong I am physically and mentally. That afternoon back in June when we’d heard the news, I went on a ride with Jeff. I rode hard and at the end of our ride I held my bike high above my head. I demonstrated to myself, Jeff, and God, how strong I was. However, today feels different. Today I feel so heavy inside. Today it will take something else to help me move on.

I wish my inspiration to write today was out of jubilation and not sadness. I cannot wait for the moment to share one of my greatest joys with the world – that we’re expecting our child. But the result of our earlier phone call determined my current disposition. Jeff and I had sat at the teak table on our back deck, the fresh air on our cheeks and inhaling deep breaths, we looked at my phone and waited to hear the results of our IVF 4. To hear whether our tiny beautiful embryo, which had grown healthily for 6 days, had implanted. To hear whether we were pregnant!

During our wait I mention to him that this could either be the best phone call of our lives or the worst phone call. Then I reflected on that and corrected myself. No matter the news this phone call would reveal, it would not tell us of the hardest thing I could imagine: of a terminal illness or the death of a loved one. And while it could represent death in some ways – the death of our dream of parenthood at this moment in time, the death of our previously thriving embryo – at least it was not the worst news we could face. I felt thankful for that. It reminded me to be grateful for what we do have.

(Some studies have shown that infertility carries a similar level of anxiety and depression for people, as those diagnosed with cancer and heart disease. Some women who have suffered from both cancer and infertility, have reported certain aspects of infertility being harder to bear – the shame, failure, and especially regarding their interactions with others on the topic. Dealing with infertility isn’t understood by so many people. This is partly why I chose to be open about our fertility struggles, hoping that shedding a light on fertility issues might reduce the stigma and to help people understand).

The phone call eventually came. The tone of that first syllable of the nurse’s words again letting us know the bad news. Why? Why are we still not going to be parents? The tears came. My body crumpled into my husband’s arms. My sobs quiet at first and then louder, my breath gasping, chest heaving. We try to take it all in. The disappointed crashed down upon us, followed closely by confusion and frustration.

The ‘whys’ become directed at God. When I first looked for His plan in the delay of our conceiving, I tried to look for the silver lining and good that was a result. I thought that perhaps one of the reasons for the delay was to strengthen my husband’s and my relationship. While fertility struggles can cause major issues in the relationships of some, Jeff and I are fortunate to feel that it is bringing us closer and closer together. We admire each other’s strength, courage and sacrifices, and are ever more impressed by the person we chose to be our life partner. However, after time I felt like we had achieved such a strong bond and yet conceiving still wasn’t happening for us.

Did I need to learn something more? I’ve already learned so much from our journey (mentioned in previous posts : Our Journey to Parenthood, We Are Ready For You, Thankful for those little things, and Our baby journey continues), including: patience, strength, gratefulness, faith, and the love of family and friends. Over the past months and years we have drawn on that love. We feel incredibly thankful for the people in our lives, and their love and support.

Why are we still waiting? I have sat by as I watched so many friends get pregnant, and smiled. I have learned of multiple people who conceived on their first try, and smiled. I smile through my own pain at not experiencing the same, but I smile because I always feel happy and excited for others. I have spoken with people who have struggled with and expressed the sadness of infertility for just a few months, I smile and empathize with them. I listen to people who are suffering from secondary infertility after having their first or second child, I smile and comfort them. Sometimes, in my human failings, I get frustrated thinking that a few months struggling with infertility, before or between children, is nothing compared to nearly 5 years. Or perhaps I don’t fully acknowledge to myself the same grief of secondary infertility, when I’d love for even one child. But then I remind myself, who am I to say their grief is any less than mine? I’m not a martyr for going through this. So many people go through so many different struggles and hardships in life. It is often these shared difficulties that connect us. And hopefully I can learn some things and help others along the way.

Maybe I have more to learn on this journey? Maybe God has a different plan for me than I’m imagining? Maybe more than the lessons I have learned, and needing me to become closer to my husband, family, and friends, he needs me to become closer to Him? I search for what it is I am supposed to do. Do I need to pray harder? More often? Go to church more?

Some people have expressed that God did not answer their prayers until they finally turned everything over to Him and put all their strength and trust in Him. I continue to grow in my faith, but I find it hard sometimes. Struggles and hardships can test our faith, and it has certainly tested mine. But I remind myself that our hard times are when we can especially turn to and rely on God.

People have quoted Bible verses to us “Ask and ye shall receive”. They tell us they are thankful to God for blessing them with their child and answering their prayers. Why did he bless them and not us? Plenty of people ask God for things, for honorable things – for themselves or loved ones to be healed, to become parents, to be able to feed themselves and their families. We don’t always get the answer we are looking for. We have to trust God’s plan and timing for us. Being able to do that is a process.

I read a couple of things today that stuck out to me ‘Sometimes BAD things happen to GOOD people’. This is an age-old adage. People often ponder this, especially when they are doubting God’s existence: ‘Why would He let something bad happen to someone good?’ I also read ‘Sadness contributes to the richness and fullness of life’. I reflect on these two statements and realize that if bad things only happen to bad people, we would all live in fear of being bad or doing anything bad. Being fearful is not a good way to live. Also, when bad/hard/sad things happen to people it allows humans to connect, to show their tenderness towards one another, and to recognize their own humility (we are not above suffering, there is no reason someone else should suffer over us). We can learn so much from these things. To some extent, I believe we need to feel some hardship/lows in order to fully appreciate joy/highs. The yin and yang – necessary opposites, contrary but interconnected.

When life is challenging, I try to look for the good and beauty in things. When I went on my walk today, after our devastating phone call (now a total of 7 failed embryos), I saw huge thick gray clouds overhead, casting everything below in coolness and shadow. I also saw the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. It made it’s way through the clouds and warmed my skin. I realize the sun, the light, the things that make me feel good and happy, are what I want to focus on.

As I carry on on this journey, I will continue to look for the silver linings. I will use my inner strength to propel me forward. I will try to let go, and rely on God and my faith. I will be thankful for my husband, my family and friends, and let them help me share the weight of my burdens, as I help with theirs. And I will share the lessons I learn along the way. Jeff and I will go on. We will find a way – someday, someway, somehow – to be parents. As we process our next steps, I want to thank you all for your continued love and support.

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Read my most recent post for National Infertility Awareness Week, which includes a poem I wrote, here: My womb is empty, but my heart is strong.

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Taking one step at a time.

Sitting on my favorite bench contemplating my emotions and our next steps.

Heavy clouds overhead, but the sun is trying to peek through.

The sun breaks through the clouds. It warms my skin and bathes everything in it’s golden rays.

Our baby journey continues…

I step out of bed and pad across the soft carpet onto the cool tile floor. I glance down at the calendar on my counter and next to today’s date, I see in bright pink ink the two hearts I have drawn and the words ‘ ♥ ♥ PREG TEST’. Today is a big day for us! I take a deep breath and try to let go of any fears and anxiety. Jeff walks over to our wooden bedroom blinds and pulls on the string to let the rays of the morning sunlight stream in. He exclaims, “The deer are back!” I rush to the window and look out towards our lawn, and there is the mother and her two babies that we saw yesterday morning. The fawns – with their long spindly legs and white speckled backs – frolic and play, while their mother stands and keeps a watchful and protecting eye over them. This sight makes me feel instantly relaxed and peaceful, just as it did yesterday. Perhaps it is a sign from God that I am a soon to be a mother too?

I look in my heart for the knowledge that today will be a day of celebration for us, a day of joy, a day of wonder and excitement. I imagine it will be right up there with our wedding day as one of the best days of our lives (along with the day our babies would be born)! We are so hopeful for our upcoming news. Would today be the day we would find out we are going to be parents?

I drive down to Salt Lake City to our doctor’s office. I feel a mixture of anxiousness and excitement on the journey. Aloud I run through some positive statements: “My body is a welcome and harmonious place for new life to grow. My thoughts are peaceful and calm. I am worthy and deserving to be a mother.” I make the six healing sounds from traditional Chinese medicine – hissing like a snake and shhhing like a librarian as I think of colors and different internal organs (hey, I am willing to give anything a go)! I think of Mark 5:36 ‘Don’t be afraid; just believe’. I feel a deep sense of peacefulness and the knowledge that things will be OK either way.

I arrive at the clinic and the nurse who draws the blood is so excited to see me. “I have been waiting to thank you!” she exclaims. “Your advice really helped me.” She reminded me that last time I had seen her to draw blood (I have had a lot of blood drawn over the last few years!); she had told me of her desire to find a large house to rent in the mountains this summer. She thanked me for really listening to her and giving thought to my answers. One of the websites I suggested had resulted in her finding a house to sleep 25 for her wedding venue! I was so excited for her news and thankful to have helped that I forgot to be nervous about why I had gone in.

I step outside of the clinic into the fresh air and I think back over the last six weeks. I think of all the injections, pills, appointments, and getting my body ready for this moment. This cycle is our third attempt at IVF and first time doing a frozen embryo transfer (FET). We previously tried two IVF fresh cycles in January and April of 2015, we also did two egg retrieval only cycles in December 2015 and February 2016, four IUIs in 2014, Clomid in the year prior, and earlier still good old trying naturally! We are now 4.5 years into our fertility journey. I estimate we have gone through over 50 cycles/attempts to conceive during this time. Sadly, none of these previous attempts has resulted in a pregnancy. 50 times to get our hopes up. 50 times to anxiously wait the two weeks between ovulation and when we would find out if we were pregnant. 50 times to have our hearts break a little at the sad news that we had not conceived again. And still no clear reason why it is not working for us.

Each of those months was difficult, but none was as difficult as the failed IVFs. The emotional, physical, spiritual, (and financial) investment in those cycles; all of the appointments, procedures, medications, injections; knowing that we had put developing embryos – human life – inside me; all of the additional hope and optimism pinned on this being our solution, made it all the harder to bear. We felt good about this third IVF attempt though. Third time lucky. Statistics of success for our cumulative efforts were in our favor. Several people I knew, both in person or through fertility blogs, had conceived on the third time of IVF. This would be our time to become parents.

Everything had gone well with our embryo transfers 12 days earlier. Both embryos had survived the thawing process (there is about a 70% chance for an embryo to survive thawing). Our doctor told us we now had a 40 – 45% chance to conceive by transferring two embryos (30 % chance with one). Post transfer I went home and spent the next three days resting. I read, slept, looked at photos of pregnant bellies and babies, sat in our garden looking at the flowers and butterflies, I colored drawings, and sketched a picture (of Jeff and myself on a bench holding our children). I did acupuncture and craniosacral therapy. Over the next week or so, I prayed, I meditated, and I visualized (our embryos implanting, the babies growing inside me, being pregnant, holding our babies). I spoke to our babies in my tummy. I looked at my vision board and said positive mantras. I ate the right foods and avoided the wrong ones. I did gentle walking and avoided strenuous activity or lifting anything heavy. And I laughed as much as possible! Occasionally my mind would wander and worry, searching for signs or pregnancy, or lack thereof. But I tried to let go of the anxiousness and just focus on the now. Overall, I felt a sense of calm and relaxation in my body and mind. I did everything I could. Even though I knew on most levels, it was really out of my hands.

After my blood draw I left the clinic. It would be several hours now until we got the results. I opened the door of my warm car and sank into the leather seats, to find a lovely text waiting from Jeff. He was letting me know he loved me and it would be ok whatever happened. I thought back to the day before at church, when he had whispered similar sweet sentiments in my ear in prayer, as the choir sang about using God’s strength to support us on our journeys. We held hands in the pews and the tears flowed down my cheeks at the beauty and comfort of both of those things.

As I drove to meet Jeff I thought about our conversation concerning with whom and how we would share our good news. First, we would tell our parents and siblings, (we could even go to Jeff’s sister’s house and make the announcement in person, as she lives locally – that would be so fun and joyful). Then we would tell our remaining grandparent, Jeff’s grandma Marge. We could not wait to do that, she is 94 and had joked with us that she is sticking around to meet our children. Then we would share our wonderful news with our aunts, uncles, cousins, and close friends. So many people are supporting us on this journey; it would be hard to wait until the often-customary 12 weeks before telling anyone. Our loved ones were anxious and excited for the news too and to share our joy.

Jeff and I ate a quick lunch and drove to a local park to make the phone call to our clinic for the results. We sat on an empty bench; I put my phone on speaker and called our nurse’s direct line. It rang and rang, the loud noise filling the relative silence and stillness of the park, our hearts beating anxiously. It went to voicemail. My nervousness increased. We would give her a few moments. I told her I would call at 1 pm and it was 12:53 pm, we were early (we had eaten our lunch much too fast). I looked at the large trees lining the pathway opposite us, at the sheer circumference of their giant trunks, their wizened bark, their branches outstretched like arms offering shade from their canopy. I tried to take some peace from the trees. We waited the longest 3 minutes of our lives and called again. This time she picked up on the first ring. A pause. She composed herself. “Guys, I’m…” And we knew. Our hearts sank. We could tell by her tone that the news was not good. “I’m… so sorry to tell you your test results are negative.”

No, no, no. Our hearts sank. One of our biggest sadnesses was happening again. This was the third time we had received a phone call like this. We ended the call. We were numb. I felt empty inside – emotionally and physically. The babies we had been talking to over the last few weeks were not there. At some point, the pregnancy had failed. We were devastated and disappointed. We looked at each other, the sadness on our faces mirroring each other. I cried. We told each other it would be all right, that we have each other, that we have our health, that we have so many good things in our lives. That we would not give up, that we would keep trying. There would be a way for us to become parents and fulfil our dream. God has a plan for us.

That evening at home Beyoncé’s song ‘I’m A Survivor’ came into my head. I sang the words in my head, the lyrics growing louder in my mind. Then I sang the words aloud. Then I changed the I’s to We’s, as this journey is about both Jeff and I. We have both shown incredible strength, resiliency, tenacity, and determination in this journey. We are in this together and for the long run:

We are survivors
We’re not going to give up
We’re not going to stop
We’re going to work harder
We are survivors
We’re going to make it
We will survive
Keep on surviving

In these sad couple of days following our disappointing news, I have reflected on a lot. I have reflected on surviving. Surviving something makes us stronger. Almost all of my friends have survived something, to varying degrees – illness, divorce, addiction, depression, loss of a loved one, job loss, or like us fertility struggles – at the time, it is so painful to experience. However, it is during hard times that human beings show some of their most amazing character traits. Family and friends rally around people surrounding them with love, compassion, hope, and joy. These are the silver linings amongst the dark clouds.

I reflect on all that I have learned on this fertility journey. I am so thankful for this. Had we conceived right away I would never have had the opportunity to learn all I have. One of the most important things I have learned is to be thankful for all that I have, to be present and look for the good, positive and joy in the now, and in each day. Rather than worrying about something I do not have or waiting for something to happen to bring me happiness (e.g. a baby, a relationship, a new job, a new house, to retire, etc.) There is something extremely rewarding and peaceful about being grateful and appreciating what you have now.

I have learned to be more accepting and forgiving. People often say the darndest things regarding our fertility journey. I know that they all have good intentions and are trying to comfort us or offer us hope. So, I let the comments that fall a little short roll off my back. The most helpful thing we have heard is when people let us know much we are loved.

I continue to be happy for parents-to-be or new parents. I have still never felt the desire to compare our journey with anyone else’s journey or have the ‘why them and not me’ mentality. I feel genuine joy for each prospective or new parents I see or meet. I sometimes hear pregnant women complain about their pregnancy symptoms, and I think about how I would give anything to be pregnant and readily deal with the weight gain, swollen ankles, food aversions, nausea, just to know I have a baby growing inside me. But even if I let brief frustration seep in to me, I quickly let it go. I am happy for, and encourage people to express their human experiences, I am interested in them, and I do not expect people to filter them for me.

Above all, this long fertility journey has taught me patience, faith, and the love of my husband. It has taught me how strong we are, both individually, but more importantly as a team…and what a great team we are! As we go on a bike ride the early evening of our sad news, the high warm summer sun beating down on us, and as we push hard up a hill, strong and healthy, side-by-side, I smile and breathe, and know that everything will be alright.

Lydia

p.s
Next Steps…
Jeff and I have two more embryos frozen from February 2016 (classified ‘good’ quality). We plan to do another frozen embryo transfer (FET) as soon as possible. We hope that this next, 4^th, cycle of IVF will be our time. There are likely unknown/unexplained infertility factors at play for us. But our doctor has suggested it is often just a numbers game with IVF. Several studies have shown that overall, about 50% of human preimplantation embryos from IVF are chromosomally abnormal. So, while some couples are fortunate enough for IVF to work the first time, others it might take two, three, four or more attempts to work. We could also do further egg retrievals if we need too. (One of the hardest things for us is just time/age. Even if we can deal with the rollercoaster that is this fertility journey, we just want this to happen for us before it is too late. There is likely a little longer for us to try through IVF or naturally. We know there are many options though). We feel secure in the knowledge that we will be parents! We are strong! We are not giving up!

Why Share?
Friends and family have been overwhelming supportive of my blog. Some people may wonder why I would share something so personal. There are several reasons. I find it incredibly therapeutic to write. It allows me to freely express my emotions. It helps me to connect with people, and to share our story with our loves ones, and those for whom it might be helpful or comforting to hear. I have an amazingly supportive husband, who knows and encourages my love of writing. But mainly I write because we are not alone in our struggle. People struggle and survive through so many hurdles in life. Writing helps us share the joys and sorrows, the richness, that is human life. With regards to fertility in particular, sadly there are so many couples around the world feeling our same heartbreak. There is still somewhat of a taboo surrounding the topic of infertility. Couples facing it can sometimes feel alone, shunned, and judged. I want to shed a little light on the topic. To normalize it. To help others know they are loved and not alone.

Previous posts on fertility:

Nov 2013 – Our Journey to Parenthood
Nov 2015 – We Are Ready For You
Nov 2015 – Thankful for those little things …

Mother and baby deer in our back garden

IVF Attempt 3! Fertility photos June 20161

Trying a ‘baby-bump’ photo after the embryos were transferred 20160619_143108

Wildflowers on a walk
I felt good most of the waiting period, but when anxious thoughts came into my mind, I did my best to be in the present and notice the beauty around me. Neighborhood wildflowers

Feeling Grateful
Jeff and I feel so fortunate for all we have, and the fun travel and adventures we do. But it doesn’t fill the space in our hearts for the children we desire so much. We cannot wait to be parents. Screen Captures3

We Are Survivors
The early evening of our sad news. But feeling strong after our bike ride together in the sun. We Are Survivors!
Bike Ride 2

We Are Ready For You

Two years ago I wrote about ‘Our Journey to Parenthood‘. Now two years later, and four years of trying to conceive, our journey continues. It is a journey of highs and lows, and incredible insights. I believe sharing our raw emotions and lessons we’ve learned is how we connect as humans. It can be hard to stay strong and positive in our faith and relationships during these challenges, but through love and support we can. These are my latest thoughts on our journey….

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To Our Dearest Child,

There is scarcely a day in recent past where I have not thought of you – your long eyelashes resting angelically on your cheeks as you sleep, the movement of your lips gently suckling as you think of your next feed, the soft downy hair on your head catching the sunlight, the tiny pads of your fingers and toes. Your image is in my mind and heart, a constant companion and reminder you are not yet with us. Some days the void is more apparent. We dearly want you here – to hear the sweet sound of a child within our home, to feel you in our arms – to fill us with your presence. We are ready for you.

Why are you not yet here? Is there something more we can do? You are in our thoughts and decisions. We anticipate you being here. A small smile spreads on my face as my eyes scan our living room. We chose our furniture with you in mind, our side and coffee tables with rounded edges, “So, when we have a child they won’t hurt themselves on sharp corners” we told the salesperson. I look out of the window and see the area we leveled for a swing set, just as we did in our last house. I worry about the tree blocking my view to keep an eye on you and check you are safe as you play, but I imagine I will be outside playing with you much of the time. I raise my eyes to our second floor and see your bedroom door. We have painted your room for you and had the carpet repaired. We received a crib that our niece and nephews used, and your Dad and I built it together last year. “Build it and they will come!” your Dad always says. We are ready for you.

Is there a lesson we must learn before you arrive? Your Dad and I have learned so much over the last few years. It was hard when we were first married – each of us adjusting to putting the other person before ourselves, being thoughtful, communicating clearly, and making decisions as a team. We are both stubborn and headstrong. There was anger and tears at times, but there is also so much fun and joy. Oh, how your Dad makes me laugh – his smile, his energy and enthusiasm. We have come such a long way and grown so much. We are a better team now. We appreciate each other more. We have a deeper love and respect for each other. I am thankful we have had this time to learn and grow before you arrived. There will be more learning and growing to do, I know, but we are ready for you.

The last four years have been an unforgettable journey. The day we decided we wanted to bring you into the world, and all that has passed since. I picture your Dad and I on a boat, riding the waves of hope and disappointment, up and down, joy and pain. Sometimes your Dad is the captain and sometimes I am, taking it in turns to row or bail out water, keeping us afloat. We see our destination. We move towards it. We are ready for you.

This is not a journey of sadness though. We have so much to be grateful for and have experienced great joy on the way. We must remember this. So often it can feel like we are in limbo, waiting for something to happen, waiting for you to arrive. I used to cringe when people told me several years into our fertility journey, “Enjoy life while you can, before you have children” – thinking they had no idea how we felt. Now I realize we must enjoy life now, we must remember to be in the present, not in a constant state of waiting. I look around me and my heart is glad. We are so fortunate. Our lives are rich with the blessings of amazing family and friends, of travel and adventure, of professional and personal success and fulfilment. I look out the window at the beauty that surrounds me, of all that God has given us, and I am so very grateful. We appreciate each day and each blessing. But, as I bring my attention back inside I notice once more you are not here to enjoy life with us. We are ready for you.

Life without children can be hard (as it surely is with them – I have no disillusions of that). Our society often seems designed for families. It is expected of us. We tend to define a female in her role as a wife and mother, for women who choose not to bear children, or those of us who struggle with it, that brings immense pressure and judgement. Childless couples can be met with surprise and suspicion. We feel the need to explain ourselves. There is upset and shame involved in not being able to deliver a baby. You can feel responsible, even though there is nothing you have done or can do to change it. Your Dad and I are so thankful for the overwhelming support we have had – the wonderful family and friends who have sustained us on this journey. They make a great effort to include us in activities, even if we are the only ones without a baby strapped to us on a hike or without a toddler at the park. They identify with us in other ways, as they did before. Sweet child, you are lucky to have the best support network of children and adults, who are all ready to love you, as they do us. We are ready for you.

Our family, friends, and God have kept us strong during our fertility treatments over the last two years – four IUI (Intrauterine Insemination) procedures in 2014 and two IVFs (In Vitro Fertilization) in 2015. We focus on the power of prayer and positive thinking through these. Your Dad was, and continues to be, the best husband throughout. He will be an amazing Dad too. I cannot wait to be a family with the two of you. During IVFs we had to drive to the clinic nearly every day for ultrasounds and blood tests. We did injections each night too. I found it almost impossible to stick a needle in myself, especially the 1.5” ones. Luckily, your Dad did them for me. He is very caring and patient towards me; he held my hand, rubbed my injection sites in small circles, spoke in soft whispers, encouraged me, and calmed me. At the appointments, we monitored the follicles growing, hoping that one of them would contain you. We are ready for you.

When they retrieved the eggs for IVF, I went under general anesthetic. They retrieved fourteen the first time and nine the second. The doctor told us we make excellent quality embryos so we are very hopeful. Both times after several days, they implanted two embryos. I was awake for this. We watched the process on a screen. I could not stop smiling and exclaiming my amazement to see the embryos transferred, dancing their way up the catheter where they would be placed in my womb, their new home. Throughout this journey, we are increasingly awed by the miracle that is conception and life, and bringing you into this world. The embryologist gave us photos of the beautiful perfect little cells. We prayed every day for them to take and implant or “Throw down their anchor!” as your Dad said fondly. We had hoped they would become you. We are ready for you.

We prayed about and visualized the embryos strong and healthy. I pictured myself with you, a baby, in my womb, growing each month, imagining myself looking in the mirror at my rounded figured and smiling. I pictured holding you in my arms. I created a vision board, I sketched myself with two babies, our two embryos, and I said positive statements every day. We were calm and optimistic. I imagined all of my loved ones sitting in a circle alongside us, smiling, supporting us. We are ready for you.

I was so sure that we had conceived you, that when people who knew we were in the process of IVF would say, “If it doesn’t happen this time, it will be ok, it will happen next time.” I would get angry. I did not want that to enter my psyche. I did not want to consider any possibility except that you were already growing in my womb. It upset me. However, unbeknownst to me at the time, I needed to hear their words, as sadly these two attempts at IVF did not work. We were devastated. It was worse than failing to conceive on regular cycles, as we were more physically, spiritually, and emotionally involved than ever. I told your Dad that I knew we both had a great inner strength, and that tenacity and perseverance were strong character traits of us both, but why were they being tested? It seemed unfair. We felt that this process had brought us so close to each other and that we had learned to support and balance each other better than ever. We had more to learn, but we are nearly there. We are ready for you.

If we could bring you into this world through trying, you would be with us already. In other areas of life when there is a goal you are after you can control it somewhat, through energy and effort to succeed. We have tried so hard, but bringing you into this world is not an area in which we have power. I get confused sometimes about how much is in our hands and how much is in God’s. Many people believe it is all in God’s timing and control. There is also the idea that God wants us to work at things too and not just wait for things to happen. We will continue to do what we can, and continue to learn the power of patience, trust, and prayer. Waiting is part of the process of what God wants us to be. We feel we are getting closer. We are ready for you.

We are getting ready to start our third IVF treatment at the end of the month, unless by some miracle we have conceived this month. We are optimistic and hopeful it will happen, and we will bring you into this world. We both dearly want to be parents. We have learned so much on this journey. We have learned to enjoy and be grateful for where we are at in our lives, without feeling in a state of waiting. Your Dad and I have learned to love, appreciate, support, and respect each other in new ways. We have gained a greater appreciation of God, and our family and friends, whose love and support upholds us on this journey. We have learned to be patient, trust, and have faith. We know when you enter our lives you will teach us new lessons too. We cannot wait to meet you our darling child. We are ready for you.

Your loving Mum
x

Images in my mind of of a sweet baby – their fingers, toes, eyelashes, lips.

Ovulation stick – I get excited to see my ovulation peak (based on LH surge). I cannot wait to see the positive sign on a pregnancy test too :)

Some of my IVF drugs arrive in the post.

Injection time – one evening’s supply of injections for IVF

We have ultrasounds every other day or daily to monitor the size of the follicles. The follicles look like large dark spheres on the ovaries.

Getting ready for the embryo transfer. Jeff is such a supportive husband and is going to be a great Dad.

I looked pretty excited and happy as they are about to transfer the embryos to my womb.

The embryos are transferred from a dish into a catheter to be put in my womb. It was amazing to see them dancing up the fluid ready for their new home.

My body feels like a pincushion. Targets are drawn on either hip for the nightly progesterone injections.

The vision board I created with daily positive mantras and pictures. I wrote a post on visualization here.

Making a wish by the statue of St. John of Nepomuk on Charles Bridge, Prague. It is said to come true within a year and a day. I imagine you can guess what I wished for!

Making a wish by the statue of St. John of Nepomuk on Charles Bridge, Prague. It is said to be a very sacred place and your wish will come true within a year and a day. I imagine you can guess what I wished for!

An inspirational quote a friend shared recently – something great is about to happen…

Our Journey to Parenthood…

I stand in front of the mirror and look at my reflection, turning this way and that, imagining a soft swell in my belly. I gently press my hand there and move it in small circles, willing our baby into existence. Rubbing and wishing, like one would for a genie in a lamp. Could it have happened this month? Have we conceived? I think I feel more tired than usual, and I felt dizzy this week, and the nose bleed earlier…they must be signs. I chart my temperature, pee on a stick, and swallow half a dozen prenatal tablets. This is how every morning begins.

I have held off for a while on writing about this topic – our journey to parenthood. I am nervous to. There seems to be enough pressure on a couple trying to conceive without letting the whole world know about it. However, after nearly two years, most of our worlds do know about it. So, I feel ok with sharing my emotions, that it will be therapeutic, and if it helps or resonates with someone going through the same thing, then all the better for it.

At first, it is exciting, fun – making the momentous decision to bring another being into the world, then going about making that happen. You think of the child-filled lives stretched out before you – the baby’s sweet smile, their laughter, their first steps – of holding onto your spouse, as you look into their awed, loved-filled face, which mirrors yours. You imagine the books you will read your child, the skills you will teach, the lessons you will guide them through. You and your spouse try with abandon. You laugh in excitement as you imagine the sperm making its way towards the egg, cheering it on. Each month you fill with anticipation. You cannot wait for this to be a part of your lives.

After time it becomes harder. The anticipation becomes uncertainty, worry, pressure. Disappointment sinks in. Why isn’t this working? Is there something wrong with me? Or with my spouse? You do not want to find anything wrong with either of you. That would be hard – one or the other could feel guilty or to blame. Although you tell yourselves if that did happen, it would not matter – you are in this together, you are a team. They run tests. You have numbers and terms assigned to you – excellent, good, normal/average, or the dreaded terms fair or poor. You feel labelled and categorized. None of our results appeared abnormal, low, or reduced. It was a relief, but seemed almost as hard as finding something wrong. We had nothing specific to work with or fix.

That led me to thinking – is it psychological rather than physical? Are we too stressed? Do we need to relax more? There it is, that key term R-E-L-A-X, which everyone tells you to do. It is easier said than done. I cannot help but to gather as much information as possible. I read copious books, I search endless blogs, we see chiropractors, acupuncturists, massage therapists. We take herbs and vitamins, I stay warm, we get more sleep, drink less caffeine and alcohol, eat more fruits and vegetables, good fats, and less sugar. The more time it takes, the more willing you are to try anything. I think, I analyze, I stress. I try not to stress! I relax, I do yoga, and I work out – but not too much. I decide to skip on strenuous workouts, even though the sun is shining and my bike is calling, and I would love to. I read a book or take a walk instead, and assure myself that this is best for me and for making our baby.

Sometimes I go on that ride, but make it a gentle one. Once, as I returned home, I saw a father and son side-by-side on their bikes, silhouetted against the sun. The father’s hand on his son’s back, gently encouraging him along. My heart ached. It aches in happiness for them and their bond, but also aches for the child I want and the relationship we will have, and for more than my own needs, for wanting this so badly for my spouse too, that it hurts.

If it is not this father and son, I see others – mothers pushing their babies on the swings, singing to them; infants peering over their father’s shoulders at church, smiling at me; parents and children looking together at the brightly colored fruits in the grocery store; friends with their toddlers, or swollen bellies carrying their child. Several friends who also had difficulty conceiving, have told me they felt jealousy towards others and the ‘why them and not me’ mindset. I totally understand that. I feel for them and their pain. However, I have honestly never felt that feeling towards anyone else who has children. The emotion has never entered my psyche. I feel fortunate for that. While there is pain at the hole in our lives we want filled, l have happiness and gladness in my heart for people with children. I especially love to see my husband, parents, siblings, and in-laws interact with my nephews and nieces. The smile on their faces and glow in their hearts is tangible. Children are a gift.

I say ‘gift’, realizing parenting is not all easy. I am under no illusion that rearing children will bring only joy. I have not built it up to be something unrealistic. I have spent time with children – as an aunt, a friend, a teacher. I know there will be times of frustration, tiredness, and tediousness; there will disagreements, tantrums, and tears (from all parties involved)! When people think about the freedom and flexibility before children and say lightheartedly to us “Enjoy it while you can!” I wince. We do appreciate it now, but we dearly want the next step. (I was going to say we are ready for the next step, but I realize – are you ever truly ready for something you do not know?) We may not be ready in all senses of the word, but we want it, we are excited for it, we are willing, we will try. This gift, the whole package, the ups and the downs, the joy and the tears – we welcome it. We expect this in parenthood (as with marriage too). When you love someone and have them in your lives, you face emotions on all ends of the spectrum; you are in it for it all.

I anticipate the love for my children being different than that towards my spouse – not loving them more than him, but not in the same way. Children are more vulnerable than adults are; they need us, especially as babies. It inspires a different type of love, a protectiveness. I hear most parents saying they would lay down their lives for their children – their own needs and indeed their very being, no longer coming first. I believe many people would do the same for their spouse too. It may be easier to claim such sacrifices for your child, your own flesh and blood, than it would for your spouse. But, in wanting to be a selfless, loving, giving parent, it inspires me to want to be a better spouse as well. Planning to give my all to our children, reminds me to do that for my spouse. I know there will be hard times, and our marriage will be tested, but overall I hope it will enhance my love towards my spouse.

Over the last few years, I have shed very few tears over this. I think most of the time I try to push my emotions deep inside and cover them up. I know this is not healthy and I am getting better at talking about it. I have some very dear family and friends who are great listeners, advisers, confidants. Some who have been through this and some who have not -those who understand and those who try their best to understand. All of them I appreciate greatly. I have had one or two meltdowns. I have stood in the bedrooms we have planned for our children, and cried, and cried, with my head in my hands, until I thought I could cry no more. I have let a single tear slide down my cheek as my period begins, and another month goes by with no success. I wipe it away with the back of my hand. I hug my spouse, and we hope. We hope, we pray, we love each other, and we carry on. We know this journey is different for everyone. As our journey unfolds, it is all we can do. When it does happen, we cannot wait to meet you our sweet child…

Lydia