The Other Side of Pregnancy Announcements

One of the most emotional aspects of being on the other side of infertility is knowing how to deal with pregnancy and birth announcements as both a proud mother and as someone who has been in the shoes of those who would give everything to be making similar announcements. Every time I post a baby picture, part of me cringes and hopes and prays that no one will cry or mourn when they see it. When I announced my first pregnancy I did so while publicly letting people know that we had struggled to get pregnant and that this baby was a wonderful miracle and blessing. I didn't want anyone to be hurt, but at the same time, I knew that hurt was inevitable.

Looking Forward

Over the past week or two I have been doing pretty well. Two weeks ago today my husband and I decided that it was time for us to share our journey with our friends and family. It just felt like the right thing to do. From the moment that I decided that we would let other people know about our struggles I felt an immediate sense of relief. I never felt like I was keeping a secret before, but I suppose it was weighing on me more than I realized.

A week ago we posted a note on Facebook, although we limited the privacy settings so that not everyone on our friends lists would see it. Just knowing that we are not alone and that people now have some idea about what is going on in our lives is very comforting, and it really lifted my spirits, even if I did not talk with many people about the note at all.

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I believe I mentioned this before, but we do have a consultation at the Sher Institute in Saint Louis on October 24th. My hope is that they can start us on a good plan. We have already done some tests with our respective doctors in Wisconsin, but I do not feel that we have a diagnosis or a clear explanation of what the problem is. I am hoping to (1) get a clear sense of the problem through testing as they recommend, and (2) make a plan for treatment.

I do not know what they will recommend for treatment at all, but I do know about some of the more common fertility treatments. I know what problems we do not have, and this leads me to think that they will probably suggest either IUI or IVF. I would be very happy if there was something much simpler that we could try first, and I am definitely hoping that that is the case, but if you know me, you know that I like to think ahead and be prepared, so I am already thinking about these two different courses and trying to decide how I feel about them - just in case.

I am assuming they will start with a suggestion of IUI since it is cheaper and less invasive, but it will depend upon the precise nature of the problem, obviously. As a Christian and someone who is strongly pro-life, I have some ethical concerns with IVF that would certainly need to be satisfied before I would consider pursuing it. I am considering doing a post or two on the ethics of IUI and IVF and what a Christian view of these treatments could be. (I do want to say that even when my husband and I reach a decision about what treatments we would be willing to pursue, we will never pass judgement on another couple who makes a different decision. These questions are very tricky and very involved, and in many cases there are not clear-cut answers.) With that being said, we naturally want to feel very good about any course we decide to take in our own marriage.

So to sum up, I've been feeling better about all of this lately! We have an appointment coming up and I'm hoping it will help make our path a little more clear-cut and concrete. And look out for upcoming posts about IUI and IVF in Christian (and more specifically Lutheran) perspective.

The One Year Mark

Infertility is defined as the inability to conceive after one year of trying. 

My husband and I hit that one year mark just over a month ago, and I still cannot say the word infertility out loud in reference to us.  Hitting that mark was mostly devastating, but there was also a small dose of comfort.  It felt devastating because I realized that we were almost certainly not going to "just get pregnant."  There is a reason the medical community defines infertility as trying for a year - it's because if it has been that long, something is wrong.  It's as simple as that.  In one frustrating day I moved from just trying to conceive to this horrible label of infertility.  I went from optimistically thinking that any month now I would be pregnant to knowing that unless we figure out what is going on and manage to get it treated, my odds of getting pregnant in any given month are very, very slim.

Hope versus The Odds

What is frustrating to me is that even with this knowledge that it almost certainly cannot happen until something changes, I still get hopeful that this will be it.  Every month I tell myself that this time I will truly hold my emotions at bay, and this time I will not expect anything and will therefore not deal with the sadness and disappointment.  After all, if I can just keep myself from hoping, I won't be so devastated, right?

Well, one problem with that plan is God.  God makes it impossible for me to lose hope.  After all, God is the one who creates all life and who gives the gift and blessing of children.  I know this, and I know that God loves me, so every month, even if I know that statistically speaking my chances are slim to none, I pray to God and ask him for a baby, and then when I do not get one, I am surprised.  Every time.  I know that God not giving me what I want should not be surprising, but I have such faith in God's goodness and love for me that I keep thinking that it will happen and God will answer my prayers.  I think that maybe he was just trying to teach me patience, and maybe I've learned enough for him.  Maybe he was just waiting for the perfect timing and maybe its here.  I cannot see into the thoughts of God, so I have no idea when he will answer my prayers.  But every month I manage to rationalize a reason why God is probably going to answer my prayers with that YES that I so long for.

While hope in God is usually a great thing, in this context I hate it.  I know that sounds terrible, but it is true.  I sometimes feel that it would be easier if I had no reason to hope, because then I would not get these hopes up and I could avoid such crushing, recurring disappointment.   But I do know God, and I do know he loves me, and so I do hope, even when I try to remain realistic.

So how do I handle this conundrum? How do I balance my hope and faith in God with the fact that it probably is not going to happen this month?  I have no idea, but each month is a fresh opportunity for me to try a new approach. 

Dealing with the Label

Along with hitting that lovely one-year-mark comes another issue.  As much as I run from it, that term infertility is probably not going anywhere.  We could still get pregnant this summer, but more likely we are going to struggle with testing, doctors appointments, expensive treatments, and so on for at least a little while if not much longer.  So I struggle with the fact that only two people in my life other than my husband have any idea that this is going on.  If this is going to be an issue for us, maybe we need support from our families.  Maybe they should know.  But for some reason it is hard for me to figure out how to tell them.  And I do not even know if I want to.

When we started TTC we were firmly in the camp of "This is very personal, and no one needs to know that we're trying until we're 12 weeks pregnant."  I think this would have been my attitude at any time in my life, but especially since I am pretty young to be TTC, I did not want to deal with questions or judgments about our life choices.  We did not start this journey without careful thought, months of waiting, and both feeling ready.  The fact that we are young is not relevant to us, because we are emotionally ready and financially able to take care of a child.  I knew that people would question our judgment, and I did not want to deal with that.

But now that a year has passed and this dumb infertility label has shown up, I have no idea how to approach the topic, and I still do not know if I want to approach it.  It seems horribly weird and awkward to bring it up, but it also seems weird to not have people know.  Any other medical issues that J or I have are shared with our families, so omitting this one feels almost deceitful.  But I think a part of me is still afraid that the judgment I feared initially might still be there.  And what I absolutely do not want to hear is how we are young and we have plenty of time.  Time will not fix this if nothing else is done.  Also, even though I know we have lots of time, I am still sad and struggling.  My life dream was to be a mom of a large family.  I wanted at least eight kids, and I wanted to have them while I was young and have lots of energy.  Even though I know that we will still have children one way or another, I feel this dream slipping away from me.  I find it very hard to believe that we will have that many children, and I am saddened at the potential loss of my dream family.



So these are two of the issues that passing the one-year-mark has brought to the surface for me.  I hate labels, and this one is my least favorite of all.  I am still in the process of figuring out how to deal with it.