We Hit the Ground Running

This past Saturday, I had an egg retrieval for IVF!

Even though we hit a lot of obstacles getting to this point, it finally happened, and I am recovering well and quickly. I had to do injections for 14 days to prepare for the retrieval which included a trigger shot that I had to have my husband do for me. The trigger shot was a much larger needle than the rest of the injections (so far) and it had to be injected on my backside since it was an intramuscular injection.

I have had a LOT of appointments up until this point though and it is more than exhausting planning for things at school and making sub plans last minute (as I have already expressed my stress levels about). This past week, when things were still up in the air, I had to deal with a pretty stressful situation in which my brother saved my butt. I had an appointment on Wednesday morning where I was told I would most likely take my trigger shot that night and then have the egg retrieval on Friday. I had already taken time off for Friday earlier that week and had sub plans ready to go.

Then I got a phone call Wednesday afternoon around noon… I needed to take the stimulation medicine for one or two more days and that my retrieval was going to be pushed back to Saturday or Sunday, also I would have to go back in Thursday morning. I could deal with that and figure out the sub plans and time off, but I had a bigger problem: I was out of stimulation injections. The doctor offered to have someone on their team find some samples that I could come back to get. Then it got more interesting: I had to pick it up in their Richmond office (there were not any samples in Norfolk) and I had to pick it up before their office closed at 3:15. Also, I had to take these injections by 6:00pm. (Remember that I live in Newport News and work in Windsor).

I panicked a little bit and called my husband to try and figure this out. I had just gotten to work a little over an hour ago and if I was going to make it to Richmond in time, I would have to leave right now and find coverage for my classes. My husband was not able to leave work. I thought about how one of my brothers lived in Richmond and wondered if I could send him to pick up the medicines for me. I called my brother and, luckily for me, his classes had been canceled for the day. That meant he was free to do me a HUGE favor. I called the doctor’s office back, and finally got to a point where I could send my brother to pick up the medicine for me.

That morning I drove from Newport News to Norfolk, from Norfolk to Windsor, left work in Windsor immediately after the students left to drive to Richmond, and then drove back home to Newport News to take my medicines before my husband and I went to small group at church that night. I was TIRED that night.

After my appointment the next morning, I got the word that my follicles were finally big enough and my hormone levels were finally high enough. I took the trigger shot at 8:00pm on Thursday night to prepare for the egg retrieval at 8:00am on Saturday (it has to be precisely timed). My husband did the trigger shot for me Thursday night and then drove me to my appointment in Richmond early Saturday morning that we left for at 5:30am.

My husband cared for, and has continued to care for, me in the best ways. He made sure I was comfy, took a nap, ate foods I could handle, he has cooked and cleaned and taken care of everything as I have recovered.

Going into the retrieval, my doctor said that I had 6-7 follicles that would be possible eggs. Once I woke up from the procedure, the doctor told me that they got 6 eggs. This morning I got the phone call to let me know of the fertilization results of the 6 eggs:

5 of the eggs were mature, 1 was not mature enough to do anything with
1 of the eggs did not fertilize
2 of the eggs definitely fertilized
2 of the eggs could go either way

As of now, we are taking this as good news. I will get a phone call on Tuesday to let me know what time my possible appointment will be for an embryo transfer in Richmond on Thursday. Thursday morning they will give me a call to let me know if one of the embryos is developed enough for me to have a transfer that day or if they need to wait an extra day. The rest of the embryos (if we have any) will be frozen for us to try and have more kids later on.

I have been telling others that we are practicing cautious optimism. Of course we wish all of the eggs had fertilized, we also wish that we had a kid or two by now. The fertilized eggs still may not get to what is called blastocyst stage, so we are still praying for healthy development of the eggs that fertilized.

A quick shot of campus at my alma mater, CNU!

Pit of Despair

On January 1, 2020, I believed that this would be our year to become parents. I thought for sure that we would have a little one in our arms, sitting by the Christmas tree, showing them all of the sparklies. I thought we would have the honor of reading through the family catechisms and introducing our little human to the joy of Christmas and the honor that we have to be able to celebrate this season. It’s now December of 2020, and there is not a little one in my womb, much less in our arms.

We’ve tried IUI three times so far and I am on treatment now for the fourth round. There’s no way I will (knowingly) be pregnant in 2020. The earliest I would test for pregnancy in the current timeline would be January 1, 2021. My heart is broken, and I am tired of childlessness. I am tired of trying to be strong and be a source of hope for others. I still WANT to be, but I am weary and broken.

When our county decided to bring students back into the building for school, I knew something had to give. We have students split into groups that come to school in an alternating fashion after already being split by exploratory class, so in short, that means I only see my students once a week. The groups I see on Monday I do not see again until the next Monday.

When the last round of IUI did not work, which was by far the most disappointing, I knew that I would not be able to do the next round on the normal timeline due to the crazy work schedule. My appointments for checkups, blood work, and ultrasounds would have fallen on those weeks when I saw my students for the first time. I was not comfortable leaving them with a substitute after having zero expectations set for them for in-person learning. I knew them already from online learning, but the procedures and classroom management are different in the building. I could not bring myself to leave them without any frame of reference and to leave the sub with little-to-no structure.

Finally, now in December, I feel like I could leave my students and it not be a burden on a substitute (who would actually an Instructional Assistant in our building because we cannot bring in actual substitutes for health reasons) or on my students. It was a rough few days communicating with my doctor and the pharmacy and them working with insurance to get me a medicine to induce a period since I was not starting on my own. I took an ovulation test every day and none of them were positive, so I knew that I was not going to have a period any time soon. I tested for pregnancy (protocol) and called the doctor. Finally, I finished a round of 10 days of Provera, which is usually used to manage menopause symptoms.

It took a couple days after stopping the Provera, but I finally started my period and can get back on the IUI treatment cycle. I’ll go in on day 3 and day 8 at the very least and then called in again around day 13 or 14. As of right now, my timeline has me doing the IUI procedure the week before Christmas and testing for pregnancy on New Years Day. What a holiday season!

It has been a difficult few months. It seems like it is getting more and more difficult the longer time goes on. Being childless feels like a never ending curse, there is no light at the end of the tunnel. At the end of the day, I am either a mom or I am not. I am not. I pray daily for a child, for God to show us if we are supposed to keep pursuing IUI treatment or move to IVF or pursue adoption or to stop altogether. It does not seem like there is an answer coming. I often feel hopeless (although not completely, I know my hope is in the Lord, and that does bring me solace often). This despair is growing deeper and I find it more difficult to put on a happy face all the time for work and friends and church. I pray every morning for the strength to forget for a little bit so I can be an effective teacher and a meaningful friend and wife. It is exhausting.

I found myself recently not doing anything that I liked. I was just sitting in the dark. With school being so crazy and exhausting, I did not have the energy to go home and do something productive. My sweet husband has done so much for me while I wallow. He cooks and cleans and does the laundry for us, even when I have not done anything. If anyone is reading this that lives near by, send that man a gift.

I have started to force myself to do some things that bring me joy, even if I don’t feel like it, because I feel like I have done something. My husband has encouraged me in it too (without being too pushy). It’s at least a step up out of the pit. I started to force myself to do the dishes again. I was cooking again. I baked for fun and painted again. Even when I truly do not feel like it, it has been a step. I’ve also been faithful to journal and pray and read my Bible every day, even when I don’t want to. I find myself telling God, “Hey. I’m here. I don’t want to talk to you right now, but I will.” After awhile, my bitterness and icy heart breaks and I find myself coming to Him a lot more humbled.

Recently our church had a sermon on the prophecy and birth of John the Baptist, specifically Luke 1:1-25. What a beautiful story of the end of an age of waiting! Four hundred years of waiting for God to speak, and He brought pregnancy to a couple that were way beyond their child bearing years. Zechariah and Elizabeth were blessed by God with a child, and a very special child. One thing that my husband pointed out that brought a lot of comfort to the both of us was specifically that in verse 6, Zechariah and Elizabeth were called righteous and blameless. They were called these things despite the cultural label of being seen as shameful because they did not have children. The world at that time saw childlessness as a curse or punishment from God for something that they may have done. But then the Word of God counters this, calling them righteous and blameless. Their childlessness was NOT a curse. It was NOT a punishment. In fact, their childlessness brought glory and honor to the Lord, and they were blessed.

I am not saying that I am Elizabeth and that my husband is Zechariah. This story did, however, bring me great comfort. It is so easy for me to fall into this dark pit where I question everything and I wonder if I am being punished or if I did something terribly wrong to earn this. The story of John the Baptist’s birth being foretold is a story I will hold on to tightly, trying my best to continue to honor the Lord through this journey, even when I’m still climbing out of the pit.

Norfolk, the day my sister got ENGAGED!!!! 🙂

Harder the Second Time

We had our second round of IUI this past month and it did not end up in a pregnancy. I was sure to not get my hopes up as much this time, but for some reason, it hurts WAY more. I jumped right back in to taking hormones for the next round, jumping on the emotional rollercoaster that is hormonal therapy. There was not a lot of time to think and feel last time, it’s almost like it built up between the first time and this last time that all of the emotions I am feeling are pouring out.

One of the things I hear a lot (and don’t know how to respond to) is, “You are just so strong” and “I can’t imagine what you are going through” and “I don’t know how you do it.” I hear it a lot personally and I hear it being said to others going through the infertility as well. I see it on the social media posts and the blog comments. I hear it in my own life and I get the “look of pity” frequently. If you are the ones saying and doing those things, you are not in trouble. You are not a bad person and you are showing care, interest, and support, so we thank you. Just know, sometimes the response is going to be what I am about to say:

The short response is that I am not strong and I don’t know how I am doing it. I have felt more hopeless in the past two months than ever before and I feel like I am barely keeping it together. Now that it’s fall and the temperature is cooling down, social media is blooming with posts about apple picking and pumpkin patches, flannel and fancy fall drinks. Almost all of them I see are posts from friends that have small children that are LOVING the adventures and the outdoors. It’s everything I long for and it is too much to bear to see them and to feel jealousy. I immediately feel guilt for being jealous or envious. There is a lot of focus on the family right now between it being fall, the pandemic, and online school. Pastors, bloggers, social media posters, influencers, and parents are offering different types of advice for holding the family together during these pandemic times and they are filled with (mostly) lovely advice. How I long to have those problems, working hard to bring my children and family closer together.

My dear reader, if you do not know Jesus, these next words may not make sense, but I hope they make you think. The only way that I am getting through this is by the divine strength of Jesus. Every time I don’t feel like standing back up or getting out of bed or even opening my eyes from the previous blink, the Lord is my strength and he is carrying me through. It is NOT my strength, because currently I am the weakest I have ever been. The world says that if I want it bad enough and work hard enough (or in some cases, relax enough), I am going to get what I want. The Word says that I need to rely and lean into the strength that does not come from me. If it did, I would be in deep trouble. I am so glad for my husband and his constant support. He is an excellent partner and friend. His strength, however, to hold me and comfort me comes from the Lord as well.

This is not a pity post and I hope it doesn’t come across that way. This is a post of honestly and vulnerability, that infertility is not always about being strong and sometimes it is about being broken down to a point of being reminded that I cannot do this alone and that others can only help me so far. If I didn’t have hope in something greater, I would not carry on.

But I do, and I will.

Infertility Doesn’t Rest

In the midst of COVID, political unrest, injustice, racial tension, and the possibilities surround the return to school, I made it a point to not release any blog posts. I did not want stories about my life to clog up the feed of what is important and good. I still am looking to keep my blog posts brief and infrequent because the quest for justice and peace does not rest: God does not rest.

That being said, I do feel like I owe some of you an update. A lot has happened since my last post regarding our infertility journey and I wanted to make this as quick and to the point as possible.

One thing I know is that my sisters and brothers battling infertility have probably felt more alone during quarantine than ever. Having to stay inside without children we so desire to fill our homes is haunting… the silence is haunting. I am the queen of distracting myself from my own feelings and the access to distractions decreased dramatically (Netflix is not as distracting as you would think.) Even when I do find something to do or try out or read, my mind comes back around to childlessness.

What has seemed like an eternity of waiting has truly been about five months of not really having a plan other than hurry up and wait. But my friends, it seems there is a glimmer of hope on the horizon:

My endocrinologist released me from his care after managing my insulin resistance and bring my A1-C to a normal level. I will stay on metformin indefinitely.
The management of my A1-C in addition to a new journey of a gluten-free diet has helped me lost a little bit of weight and for my periods to become somewhat regular, helping regulate my PCOS.
My husband’s urologist is pleased with his increase in sperm count and motility and recommended IUI to our fertility specialist. He will remain on Clomid for the time being.
Our fertility specialist left the practice and we did not find out until scheduling another appointment.
Our new infertility doctor is very sweet and is moving us forward with IUI (inter-utero insemination).
I started my period on day 36 of my cycle (I said SOMEWHAT regular) this past week, launching our journey into IUI.

The next couple weeks will be a rollercoaster. I started taking Letrozole (a hormone to spark ovulation induction) yesterday and will take it until Tuesday night. Wednesday morning I go in for an ultrasound to check on my ovaries and uterine lining. If the eggs/follicles are large enough and there is an appropriate number of them ready, I will start FSH injections at home to induce ovulation, releasing the eggs from my ovaries. Then, Lord willing, I will undergo the IUI procedure, which involves insemination using a catheter bypassing my cervix and increasing chances of fertilization.

The IUI procedure and journey seems like a lot less invasive of a procedure than IVF and much cheaper, making it a very feasible option for us. I am still not clear on all of the details, as this is brand new for us. We are so very excited for these prospects and pray for a baby in the next year. We know that like all infertility patients, this may not go as planned and it seems almost foolish to have any sort of hope or optimism, but our hope is in Jesus Christ first. We know that God’s plan for us may look nothing like what we think it will look like, but we continue to pray for God to align our hearts and desires with His plan, not our own. So far, he has not taken away our desire for children, and I have hope he might be on to something.

Sunrise on the water, Nags Head, North Carolina

more waiting…

The longer we have to wait, the harder it gets. It’s also getting more difficult to process what I am feeling, hence the lack of frequent posts. I’m angry a lot, sad even more often. It’s been over two years since we’ve starting trying to get pregnant and thirteen months since we started seeking treatment.

I had my follow-up appointment with the endocrinologist and I am back to having a normal A1C, meaning I am not pre-diabetic anymore. Because my body reacted so well to the Metformin, I am being kept on it to hopefully keep some of the PCOS symptoms at bay. The better my body processes insulin, the more likely my body will make the other hormones at normal levels. The better my body does at making the correct amount of the correct hormones, the more likely it is that I will ovulate semi-regularly. I go back for a follow-up appointment and blood work in three months.

My husband finally has his urologist appointment last week. There is no obvious physical or hormonal reason for his low sperm count and motility. He is being put on Clomid (which is the hormone that turned me into a cranky, raging…lady) to hopefully increase his numbers. The good news is, men do not have the same side effects as women on Clomid. He will most likely have no negative side effects, unlike me, who got hot flashes, gained weight, and had intense mood swings. He will return for another analysis in three months and a follow-up appointment after that.

So, based on both of our appointments, the major prescription is patience. The side effects are irritability, roller-coaster emotions, doubt, depression, over-thinking, and the decrease in optimism (at least for me). To be transparent, I have not been doing well recently. I find myself on the brink of tears often, whether at school or home watching TV, more and more things remind me of our childlessness.

A friend recently asked me what stage of the grieving process I thought I was in. I told her that I only realized last week that I had to grieve and I’m still determining what that looks like and what exactly I am grieving. I’ve been going to counseling again recently and my counselor said about the same thing, that I need to allow myself to grieve and to be okay with doing it. I kept trying to power through the sadness and just be sad, waiting for it to be over, but it’s not going away. Something must be done.

I am still formulating my answer to what stage I am in, and I am still unsure what this process will look like, but knowing that there will be a process is giving me a little more hope and a reason to process. I know I can label it grief, and that has been helping.

It’s Been Awhile…

The past month or so has been very difficult for me, so of course I bottled up my feelings and stopped writing so I didn’t have to deal with it. Lately though, it’s been bubbling over and apparently I should probably deal with it.

I feel like I have been surrounded by good news with none to deliver for myself. Don’t get me wrong, I love Love and I love babies, so seeing other people announce with great pride and joy that they are pregnant, I rejoice with them. It hurts my heart, but due to my lack, not their gain. I never want anyone to think that their joy should be hidden from me or that it hurts me. I just happen to see all of the announcements and my lack of pregnancy is what stings. My heart has been heavy lately, and it seems to be getting worse.

I thought it would get easier once I had a rough month and then moved on, but it seems like I am falling deeper and deeper into a sadness and I feel more and more physically empty. I feel a space inside my abdomen that is void of life and where I long a life to be. I am a little bit sad all of the time. I am having a more difficult time pushing thoughts to the back of my mind, I am constantly thinking about wanting to be a mom. My students are constant reminders of children, even when they’re being doofuses. I long to have doofuses of my own to be confused by.

I am blessed immensely, despite my sadness. My marriage gets stronger and so does my faith and trust in the Lord, I know that others going through what I am going through cannot say the same. I can’t explain it, but it can only be God’s infinite grace and goodness that has kept my faith strong. I am grateful for my Savior and have not felt anger toward Him. I am grateful for my husband, for
his prayers and honesty, for his love and comfort. It’s been an excellent season for my faith and my marriage, despite everything else.

But the everything else is still overwhelming. We are coming up on the two year mark of when we starting “trying” to get pregnant. Two years of getting my hopes up just to be crushed. Two years of waiting every day for a period to start. Two years of off and on I could go back and count how many periods I have had naturally, but to spare all my insanity, I am going to guess about 7 times. I have probably had a NATURAL period about seven times in the past 24 months.

One of the positive things that has happened is that I had a period naturally this month! It was a little traumatic starting at school without a warning (I felt like a middle-school girl), and it lasted for 12 days, BUT it means that my body did something right. I may not have ovulated, but generally
a normal period means that I ovulated at some point, and that glimmer of hope brings me joy.

I went to the endocrinologist early January to look at elevated DHEA-S (a type of male hormone) and elevated A1C. I was labeled as pre-diabetic and put on metformin, a diabetes drug. I have to take my blood sugar every morning (so far I’ve been “in range” every morning). I’ll have a blood test in three weeks to check my A1C level and then a follow up appointment the week after that. I have been slightly overwhelmed with the diabetic information. The doctor prescribed a glucose monitor without telling me how to use it and when, I don’t know what a normal range is, and I can’t seem to find the right depth of needle to get the right amount of blood for the reader. It’s a lot for me to learn and I have a whole new level of respect for diabetics. I welcome any advice or help.

The elevated hormone levels are all due to the PCOS. I am hopeful that the metformin will regulate my insulin levels which supposedly will cause a reaction that will regulate the DHEA-S. The elevated male hormone is why I gain weight around my gut first. There’s a possibility that the metformin will cause a chain-reaction of me losing weight and ovulating regularly, increasing my chances of pregnancy. There is a wide world of literature on the relationship between metformin and PCOS, which is overwhelming, but promising.

My husband has an appointment to see the urologist at the end of February. It used to be scheduled for the end of January (an appointment we made a couple months previous), but we received a letter in the mail when we returned from our Christmas trip saying the doctor would be out of the office when our first appointment was scheduled for and that we had been rescheduled for nearly a month later. We were pretty upset by the news and the manner in which it was delivered, but we are on a cancellation list and calling to check in on the status.

The medical bills and phone calls with insurance have been a lot to deal with, but we have been blessed by family and friends, both financially and emotionally. Luckily, the people on the phone and online messaging have also been pleasant, making it a lot easier (especially for someone who gets an elevated heart rate ordering a pizza on the phone).

We are blessed, and I am still sad. The two feelings can coexist, and we pray that one day we have a child. It won’t be the cure for sadness, I know that, but it would be the cure for that particular sadness.

Thank you to anyone who reads these, especially those who are going through or have gone through the same thing we are. It is encouraging to be reminded that I am not alone.

A picture I took of my sister’s backyard one morning.

I Thought It Would Get Easier

When we started to realize that getting pregnant was going to be a lot more difficult than we initially thought, I thought that as time passed, it would get easier. But here we are, approaching two years since we started trying to get pregnant and I feel my heart being crushed more and more with each passing day; it’s getting harder.

At the beginning of November, we had our first appointment at the Jones Institute to discuss what our next steps would be. After a ridiculously expensive set of more blood tests for both of us, we were called and sent off to more specialists. My husband was told to make an appointment with a urologist and for me to make an appointment with an endocrinologist. After many phone calls and nagging for information, we finally both have appointments set, me at the beginning of January and him at the end. More waiting around. Every time we go to an appointment, it feels like we take one step forward and two steps back. My heart gets crushed, starts to heal again, being filled with hope, only to be crushed even harder.

I’ve had this phrase stuck in my head: I was knit together in my mother’s womb. The more I meditate on that and how glorious it is, I have found that I desire that. I want so badly for God to work within my physical body, to put a life together in my womb. I was created to bring life and I love that about me, I identify with my biological ability to procreate. When I was younger, I was told by so many in my life that one day I would make a great mother. Friends of my parents seeing how I was with my baby siblings would say how I was a mini-mom. People in a high-school bible study affirmed my abilities to care and my desire to be a mom. My friends in high school and college joked and called me mom all the time because of how I cared for others in their sickness and distress. If I was going to make such a great mom, why won’t my body work the way it is supposed to in order to make that happen?

Recently, my head and my heart have been arguing. I have a very logical side and a very emotional side that are never in balance, constantly at war with each other for ownership of my thoughts and actions. I know that I am promised nothing, deserving of nothing. Yet by God’s grace I am given much. I have a loving and godly husband, a house, a job, clothes, shoes, a big and loving family, and even a sweet dog who I can care for and baby. God does not promise children to us, but many are blessed with the precious gift of children. The emotional side of me keeps thinking that I probably will just have to wait longer, that’s my journey. God must be teaching me patience by making me wait and go to all of these different doctors. But what if that is not my journey? What if God will not give us children? What if that is completely God’s plan for my husband and I? That can’t be… it hurts too much.

The truth is, I may never have children. I pray for discernment, that my husband and I would know whether all of this waiting and doctor appointments are to build our trust in the Lord or if they are big stop signs from God saying, “Stop! This is not what I have for you.” It is not clear and it may never be.

I find myself looking out over my students in the classroom, me sitting behind the piano and directing, them staring back at me with their big, beautiful eyes. I look at them and I hold back tears. Some of them are parts of loving families that had no problem having children, others with terrible home lives and parents that don’t care. I want to care for a child, to take care of another life. I desire to have my life and sleep interrupted by tiny footsteps and demands for food. It’s getting harder to just wait.

Waiting…waiting…waiting…

It has been 60 days since my last doctors visit regarding fertility and 45 days since my last period. 45 days since I found out I wasn’t pregnant after my first positive ovulation test since I starting taking OPTs (ovulation predictor tests). Over two months ago I scheduled my first appointment with the Jones Institute in Newport News, and it is finally almost here. Our first appointment is this Friday, and time is moving slower than it ever has before.

When I was in middle school, my seventh grade English teacher always said, “It’s all relative. Everything is relative, especially time.” I knew what it meant, but only in the past two months have I really felt the weight of those words. The past two months have felt like a year. I ask my husband almost every day if we can start the adoption process because I am sick of waiting around and doing nothing. It feels like every day is a day I’m wasting not trying to get pregnant.

Every story, book, and blog post I have read about other women struggling with infertility have all said that the worst part about all of it is the waiting and the weeks in between. Are they sanctifying weeks? Sure, but they still suck.

As Friday approaches, I jump quickly back and forth between different feelings. There is a lot of excitement between my husband and I about taking the next steps. Every person I have talked to about the Jones Institute has said amazing things or said that they heard from someone else how they got pregnant going there. I am excited to get my questions asked and hopefully answered. At the same time, I’m so worried about what answers I am going to get, that I would almost rather not ask at all. Do not even get me started on the fears I have about the financial part of this journey. Is it wise to go into debt? Are my options going to fit into our morals?

Those of you who I see often know how busy I am in and outside of work. I have added responsibilities at work, I have a student teacher right now, my only free night during the week is Tuesday (and even then I always have a meeting after school), and the rest of the nights I have something to do. They are all wonderful things, and I love all of it. I am just trying to paint a picture of how busy I am.

Usually, when we are busy, time goes a little faster, jumping from one thing to the next. But even in this incredibly busy time, when I always have something to do, some task to achieve or an ever-lengthening to-do list, I can not help but feel that time is dragging on. I want Friday to be now. I want pregnancy to be tomorrow. I want to be a mother yesterday.

If you’ve read my posts before, you know that I know the “correct” answers and I know what is true. You know that I’m just venting and processing my feelings. So please, pray for me and my husband, and if anyone has the power to speed my relative time, please do so.

I’m in a Glass Case of Emotion

It has been a whirlwind in the Hazel household over the past few weeks. I took a small hiatus from this blog while school was getting started. Fellow teachers, you know that overwhelming feeling of non-stop joy and simultaneous fear? I felt it HARD this year and I have had a difficult time getting into the rhythm of school. I still feel an intense exhaustion as I write this. It will definitely get better, but right now it feels like I’ll never know the taste of sweet, sound sleep again.

Part of my blogging hiatus was due to a streak of deep sadness. After not having a period naturally (again), I was prescribed progesterone (again) to bring one on to start another cycle. I was told that this round would most likely involve daily injections of FSH hormone and frequent ultrasounds to make sure things were progressing correctly. Once it began, I dutifully called my doctor to let them know it began and inquired about the next step. The nurse answered and said that I had two options.

1.) I would start the FSH injections like we had talked about or
2.) It would be recommended that I go somewhere else for a second opinion and different, more specialized treatment.

I told them that my husband and I had mentally and financially prepared for the injections so we wanted to go that route. After a ridiculous few days of trying to get a hold of my doctor and not getting called back, I finally got a call saying that my doctor was going to recommend that I go somewhere else. I got two recommendations and a swift “good luck” and then a goodbye.

I was devastated. I felt like the medical professionals that had been giving me hope were giving up on me and passing me along without hesitation. The people being paid to help me decided they did not want to anymore. It wasn’t until my husband got me amped up until I called them back and requested that something be done this month. Why would they start my cycle and then decide to do nothing??

I called the Jones Institute and got the next available appointment, which isn’t until November. In the mean time, the doctor I had been seeing agreed to prescribe me Letrozole one more time and then have me in for an ultrasound before the normal ovulation time.

Before I get to the outcome of this appointment, it’s worth mentioning that during the waiting for my cycle to start, my husband finally decided to get himself tested. We had struggled with whether or not to have him tested to begin with and assumed that since I clearly and undoubtedly had so many issues, we would focus on making sure that I got figured out. He was tested about two and a half weeks ago.

Back to the ultrasound appointment:
It was the Friday of the impending hurricane Dorian and both my and my husband’s school counties cancelled school that day. We spent some time together and even went out on a date for lunch. I was called by the office and was asked if I was able to come in earlier since the doctor was suddenly scheduled for a C-section, so of course I said I would come in earlier. I get there and I’m brought back quickly and get undressed from the waist down for the ultrasound. It’s not until I’m sitting there for a little bit that I’m told that the doctor was called in for a different emergency delivery. I waited in the room and the doctor finally came in and started with some different information… my husband’s test results came back less than stellar. He has a low sperm count and concentration and low normal morphology, among other issues. So even if I did ovulate, the chances for getting pregnant were even lower than we anticipated. The doctor reviewed some options (I’ll likely need IVF to get pregnant) and then did the ultrasound.

I laid back and the lights went out and for the first time since starting this journey, we saw a large follicle ready to go on my left ovary. The doctor immediately sent me out to pick up a prescription for hCG hormone (Pregnyl) to bring back and get shot in the butt (yay) to induce ovulation. I was also prescribed four days of sex (insert coy emoji here).

The next day, it finally happened. I saw a positive ovulation test. It was such a weird feeling to see the two lines actually have the same darkness. The positive test was followed the next morning by some cramping I haven’t experienced in a long time. I was joyfully in incredible pain. The next day I had another positive test and then the following days showed the natural decline of the hormone which is indicative of ovulation. My body is FINALLY doing something it is supposed to!

The positive tests were over this past weekend and I am still coming down from an emotional rollercoaster. I fell into such a pit of despair when my doctor told me to go somewhere else and then I couldn’t get an appointment somewhere else for another two months. That is two opportunities for potential pregnancy. Then this past weekend, I could not stop thanking God for allowing my body to do its supposed natural function. I finally felt like I succeeded physically as a woman.

I know very well that I may not get pregnant this time around. I am not getting my hopes up. That may seem overly pessimistic, but I know my heart and I am more than content to rejoice and be grateful that my body did the thing: I ovulated. God allowed for my crazy, dramatic ovaries to release an egg.

I am currently in an evened-out mood and feeling fine. I am tired yet joyful from work and I am tired yet joyful from this journey. We will always welcome prayers for pregnancy, especially since my husband’s results were not good. We need prayers for comfort and for discernment as we think about and navigate the possibility of IVF and what that means. Pray for us, but also rejoice with us.

Quick Question(s)

I have had a lot of thoughts on my mind recently. As the name of this blog suggests, I am going to verbally process (through typing). I know a lot of what I am about to say is dumb and many of you will have thoughts and things to say, but know that I am not seeking advice or pity. I just need to get this out:

I have struggled a lot with what is in line with God’s plan and our having children. I end up asking myself many questions, many of which conflict with each other:

What if it’s God’s plan for us not to have kids?
How will we know whether it is or not?
Are we not trusting in God enough if we go to see the doctor?
Aren’t doctors God’s will?
At what point will we know if we’re just being stubborn?
Is it wise to spend money on medical bills for something that may never happen?
How do I know if I am not trusting the Lord?
What the heck is wrong with me?

My husband has been very helpful in allowing me to ask these questions out loud so that they don’t seem so ridiculous and we can talk through and pray about them. But one thing lingers. The greatest internal struggle that I am harboring the most is this: What is the balance between trusting in the natural human body and God’s sovereignty versus utilizing modern medicine, which was created by God? How I wish there was a meter that could show me what my heart is truly placing trust in.

Soon, it will be time to go back to school. Assuming I do not get pregnant this month, the next steps involve a higher dose of ovulation hormones paired with direct injections of another hormone.

My. Poor. Students.

Knowing what the lower dosage of just one hormone did to my mood and emotions, I can only imagine what the next steps will be like. If you are a coworker of mine, I apologize in advance (although many of you that know me well enough know that I do not have any trouble saying “I’m sorry”). Know that I will continue to do my best at work and put my students first always, but also know that if you hear the kids saying things about me going crazy, there is at least a reason this time.