Some Thoughts and FAITH

I want to write something because I have so much on my mind.  Yet, at the same time, I have no idea what to say.  So... I'm going to just put it all out there.  Here are my thoughts on infertility today:

- Friends.  The lack of friends.  Friends who have disappeared.  Is it them?  Is it me?  My relationship with (most of) my friends really started to slip back at the end of the summer in 2011.  At that point, Nick and I were well on our way to trying to get pregnant on our own (I ended up first going to my doctor in October, 2011).  One friend announced her pregnancy at the end of August (and who now actually just recently announced that she is expecting baby number two this summer.  Ugh.).  That was it for me.  I knew that, as I started on all sorts of hormone medications and the crazy, scary path of infertility, one of my 'closest' friends was starting on her journey to mommy-hood.  Ouch.  I pulled back.  Big time.  And to be honest, aside from her baby shower, I don't think I've joined that group of friends on any of their get-togethers since.  I couldn't be around her (the friend who was expecting).  I just couldn't handle it.  I still can't.  About a year ago, I shared with this particular friend and also another friend with whom I was closer to (compared to others in this 'group'), the story about my struggle with infertility.  Sadly, the response I got was less than anything I'd ever expect from a friend.  On one hand, I think that maybe these friends couldn't get over the fact that I had waited so long to share this (something that is so personal) with them and that they're actually angry with me.  Therefore, they don't care to be supportive.  On the other hand, I wonder if maybe these friends don't know what to say, don't know what to do or fear saying and/or doing the wrong thing.  Maybe I've pushed them away for so long that they don't feel comfortable comforting me and being there for me (in fact, my friend who is expecting baby number two didn't even tell me - I heard it through the grapevine).  I don't know what it is.  But, I do know that I'm equally to blame for friendships (and not just the two that I've described above) ending.  And that's hard.  Along with everything else that infertility has bestowed upon me, is guilt for pulling back from a lot of my relationships because it's just too difficult.  Too difficult to care about what someone else may be going through (I know that sounds so awful), too difficult to be 'present' when all I can do is think of my infertility - focusing on the next time I have to give myself a shot, when my doctor will call, how to excuse myself so that I can speak to my nurse or doctor in a private area.  It's too difficult worrying about what I'll do if someone announces their pregnancy - how will I react?  Will I be able to mask my extreme sadness (for myself)?  Will I be able to stop the tears from flowing?  The answer is that I probably won't be able to mask my sadness or stop my tears, so I've just pulled back completely.

- Happiness.  Where did you go, true happiness?  I haven't felt you in two years.  Sure, during this time I've done things that have been fun (Nick's and my amazing trip to California, a long weekend in DC/Virginia with my super supportive and loving family - and especially my Nana, holidays with Nick's family and my family, birthday parties, dinner nights, etc. etc. etc.).  But looking back, those fun times are completely over-shadowed by my sadness.  When I look at myself in pictures, I see sad eyes full of sorrow and heart ache - there's no hiding it.  But, do you want to know the crazy thing?  I'm totally willing to put my true happiness on hold... for now.  Right now, as sad as this is to say, I don't believe I'll ever truly be happy without a baby of my own.  Now, deep down I know that eventually, I may have to come to terms with this.  I'll need to somehow, somewhere find true happiness again - even if I don't have a baby of my own.  But, right now?  Right now I won't be happy until I am pregnant.  I won't be happy until I've overcome infertility.  I'm not ready to find happiness somewhere else... yet.  And so, I just keep going... moving along.  Trying to at least look happy as I put one foot in front of the other. 

- Hope.  It's all I can do, right?  The odds are against me.  One of the top infertility doctors in the nation gave me a 25% chance of conceiving (with my own eggs) with IVF (and that's only from just looking at my medical records - once he meets me and does tests of his own, there's the possibility of this percentage decreasing).  In other words, every time I do a cycle of IVF, there's a 75% chance that it won't work.  Gulp.  So far, I've been in that 75% chance of failure with every cycle that I've had.  BUT... I don't think of it that way (surprising, isn't it?!).  Rather, I hold onto that dismal 25% chance.  Could it be a lot better?  Ummm, YES!  But, it also could be worse.  I haven't been told that there's no chance (yet).  And so... I have hope.  In fact, I guess I have a lot of it.

- Faith.  Oh, Faith.  This word truly brings tears to my eyes.  I've had a struggle with my faith recently as I continue to navigate my way through this horrible journey of infertility.  Some days I feel like I have more faith than anyone in the whole wide world.  Truly.  When I close my eyes, this is what I see:  (In one of our spare bedrooms is a bed and dresser.  This will be the nursery.)  I can see this room with nothing in it other than a cream colored area rug and a Pottery Barn glider (that I will buy someday).  Sitting in the glider is me.  With a big round belly.  Belle will obviously be on the ottoman at my feet (actually, who am I kidding?!  She'll probably be right up with me and my baby belly!).  And I'll be praying, thanking God so profusely for my blessing.  My miracle.  My vision gives me chills.  Some days I see it so clearly.  Other days, though?  Well, other days it's so far out of my sight.  No matter how hard I close my eyes, I can't picture it.  The vision is gone.  I try so hard to put those pictures back in my sight, but I can't.  And that's when I lose faith.  I often wonder why this is happening to me.  Why did God have to make me with less eggs?  With eggs that are bad?  Will I ever get pregnant?  Will we have our miracle baby someday?  When?!  Sadly, I'll never know the answers to these questions (which kills me).  I have to just keep navigating my way through this awful journey to see how it turns out.  And to do that, I know that I have to have Faith. 

And, speaking of Faith... I bought myself a St. Patrick's Day gift yesterday.  Since my husband is 100% Greek, he never grew up celebrating March 17th.  Over the years, I've teased my 100% Greek husband, explaining just how important this day really is and that it should be celebrated in some way or another - especially if you're Irish... which, lucky for me, I am!  So, on this day (yesterday) I got Nick to not only buy me a shamrock shake :), but he also finally agreed to let me design my own new Nike sneakers (hey, Greeks get to benefit from having Name Days, so this is only fair!).  They had to be the custom designed sneakers so that I could choose an "ID" that will be sewn into the tongues. 

...And so now every time I look down at my sneakers, I'll see FAITH.