The more things change, the more they stay the same...

Just when I was getting used to how my body had changed off of birth control, it goes and spits in my face. "How dare you?" it says to me. "You think you know me? You don't know me." I imagine it as a trashy woman from Jerry Springer. It has truly made these last 13 months a more difficult process. At first I was really happy because I used to be in so much physical pain. Now, I would gladly take the pain back if it meant I was predictable, or even pregnant.

I'm glad I wrote the blog about my going through the 5 stages of grief. I can re-read it and remind myself that how I'm feeling is something I have felt many times before and I'm not broken. The coming weeks until the doctor's appointment are going to be hell.

I don't know what I'm going to do when I actually do get pregnant. I don't think I'll believe it. I'm so used to not being pregnant that it wouldn't seem real. I'd probably be in denial for several days, if not weeks. I wouldn't want to get my hopes up completely. It's really sad that I'm so jaded. I don't want to be, but when all I've known is disappointment, I think it will be hard to accept success outright. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

The next step

Well, it's done. After a week and a half of forgetting to call until the office was closed, I was able to schedule an appointment (after the Bar) to talk to the doctor about our inabilities thus far to conceive. That was a hard call to make--not because I felt like I was admitting defeat or was ashamed, but because I didn't really know how to handle the call. What I ended up saying to the person who answered the phone was that I wanted to make an appointment and that we'd been trying to conceive for over a year and wanted to speak to the doctor about it. Once the appointment was made, I asked if I would need to attend by myself or if Ben could/should attend as well. She said it was up to me. I've told Ben that I'd like it if he went with me, but I'd understand if he couldn't (I'd much prefer he go to an interview, for instance).

Now that that's taken care of, I'm not entirely sure what to expect. This is where all those people who offered listening ears and advice come in. Until now, I was doing ok on my own and with Ben. But, now I have no clue what's going to come next. Any and all advice you could give would be appreciated, whether that's helping me be prepared for what they'll talk to us about or sharing your decision making process when you went down a similar road. I know several friends who have chosen different options-- fertility treatments, hormone therapy (are those the same thing?? See I don't know! Lol), IVF, adoption, etc-- each with their levels of success. I am very open at this point to hear your pros/cons, experiences, determining factors, what have you. I may not be in the same situation exactly, but it will all help me figure out what our best course of action is for our specific situation.

So, bring it on! I need all the help I can get! :)

What to say...

I don't know what to say. I know I want to say something, but it's hard to put it into words. I have a jumble of emotions in my soul that all beg for equal attention. I was three days late this month. It's took me more days than I prefer to say it out loud to anyone other than Ben. For three days we allowed ourselves the chance to believe that we were pregnant. And then reality came like a guillotine.

I was reading something about infertility recently...breaking my own rule, I know. The author said that they believe that people who struggle with infertility go through the five stages of grief. It stopped me in my tracks. I realized that every month, I do. I'm so sorry to everyone that has come in contact with me during that period of time. I know I'm not pleasant to be around when I'm dealing with my own demons.

So what does it look like, for me at least? I'll give you a glimpse.

Stage 1: Denial--Usually days 1-3 "Maybe it's just implantation bleeding. It could be, right? It really does happen, so it's reasonable it'd happen to me. Right? I'm going to take these two pregnancy tests just to make sure."

Stage 2: Anger--This month it was in tandem with Stage 1, but usually on days 3-5 "Why isn't it working? What am I doing wrong? How are teenagers and deadbeats and teenage deadbeats getting pregnant and not me? I can't look at babies or pregnant women without feeling jealous. I hate this."

Stage 3: Bargaining--Usually days 5-7 "I'd rather be pregnant than lose all the weight that I've lost. I'd rather have a baby than have full nights' sleep. I'd rather have a baby than have a landscaper (our lawn mower broke). What do I need to do to make it happen? Prenatal vitamins? Done! Sweet Potatoes? Done! Stand on my head? Done! Can I have a baby now?"

Stage 4: Depression--Usually days 1-13 "Nothing I/we do is working. Maybe it's not meant to be. I don't know if I can go through this again. Why do I do this to myself? I might as well just give up trying. It's never going to happen."

Stage 5: Acceptance--Usually day 14 or so, sometimes earlier "Dear God, I need all the strength I can get. I know you have a plan, so here we go again. Another month, another opportunity to keep trying!"



I was angry for the entire day when reality showed up--angry at myself for getting my hopes up, angry at my life for taking so long to be ready to try for a baby, angry at my body for not actually being pregnant but making me think for a very long three days that I was, angry at everyone and no one at the same time. Most of the time, the anger is coupled with sadness. But this time the anger was too overwhelming. I'm still angry thinking about it, but now I'm more sad than anything. Talk to me again in two weeks and I should be fine again.