In the very back on the third shelf in my refrigerator sits a tiny stockpile of expired meds. Four vials of Menopur, one Ovidril trigger shot, and one Prometrium suppository. I received the Menopur in January of 2010. It came from a mutual friend who got pregnant from a medicated IUI. She gave us the leftovers in hopes that it would do the trick for us. The Ovidril is from my very last Donor IUI in December of 2009, I had ovulated before I could trigger. And the Prometrium is from my IVF cycle, I had one remaining suppository that the nurse gave me the go-ahead to skip which I gratefully took her up on because I was so fricken constipated, I couldn't imagine allowing my body to increase it's progesterone levels a single point higher. Oh yeah, and my partially used follistim pen is in there too. It's been over three years that most of those meds have been taking up a small corner in the back of my fridge, and I just can't throw them away. Something is stopping me.
I know I probably say it a lot, but seriously, every morning when I look at Leah's smiling face, I wonder how the hell we got so fucking lucky. I stare into her eyes, and marvel to myself... She's ours.
I look at my Stats through blogger, and I check out the traffic I'm getting on a weekly basis. The links I find take me to blogs of women who are just starting out, or finally starting an assisted cycle, IUI - IVF. And I want to reach out to them, like so many of you did for me during the last four and a half years that my blog has existed. But I get halfway through their posts and I can't go any further. Something is stopping me.
I realized just the other day that it has been months since I checked the toilet paper after I pee. Months. It used to be such a steady habit. A ritual. For so long I checked it and examined it; cried about it. But I don't need to check it anymore.
It takes me a little time to write my posts here, sometimes an hour, sometimes three. I usually come up with a title first, for some reason, and it spurs me to poor my guts on to my keyboard. But not this post. I've started it a dozen times over the last five months. It had no title. Just notes of things I wanted to include and random paragraphs that were weak attempts at trying to explain how I still think about Infertility every single day. But something was stopping me.
A while ago it occurred to me that I had forgotten about my fourth Blogiversary in January. The 31st to be exact. And when I went back to take a look I realized I had posted Leah's birth story that day. Four years later...
More often than not I am able to look back at our horribly difficult journey with gratitude. Gratitude for the lessons it taught me, for the women it lead me to, for the strength and depth it gave my marriage. But there are times when I am reminded of the heartache and udder despair it brought. It was crippling. For a second I can't breathe. For a second I can feel every ounce of misery. And I have to stop. I have to think of something else. Because for so long it held me hostage. And I don't want to let it do that anymore. But something is stopping me...
9 comments:
Love your post. It shows that motherhood does not cure infertility. It is something we carry with us throughout our life.
This was a great post. I finally threw out my expired meds a few weeks ago, but it didn't come easy. I love having my blog to look back on, connect with other bloggers, and be a support for anyone going through a similar journey, but it is hard to read some of the posts where it feels like all hope is lost, that this is the end of the road, etc. I love the reason you missed your most recent blogiversary - the light at the end of the tunnel. :)
Funny -- I kept all of the introductory paperwork from our clinic until B was about 6 months old. I was worried that tossing it would somehow jinx me. This post certainly resonates!
Beautiful post!
Oh my goodness, all this - so very true. I have the meds in the frig, I even have the boxes of needles. I don't want to think of trying again, and yet I can't imagine not doing it again. It feels so good to not be trying - actively, and yet when I get my period, I'm still sad because I'm not NOT trying. At the back of my head I know when to get pregnant, and we still try - every month. So have I moved on? I have no idea. I'd love to just move on, and yet I can't.
Great post.
Of course there is a part of me that hopes that maybe next time I won't need the help, the meds, the fertility appointments. Maybe my body will remember, and will automatically do what is "natural." But I can't go there mentally, because the disappointment is too much sometimes. So instead, I'm already steeling my nerves for the next round.
Loved this. I have an almost 5 month old after 3 years of infertility. I just came across an old journal I started at the beginning of our TTC journey and it made me so sad to remember "that girl." That girl that was so hopeful and excited and naive about having a baby. Three years after those first exciting journal entries, we had gone through 5 IUI's, 1 failed IVF, numerous meds, doctor's appointments, and more heartache than I even want to remember. I am so thankful for my miracle baby boy, but so scared to even think about trying again. I just don't think you can ever get over those feelings.
As always you have an uncanny way of capturing thoughts that are in MY head and writing them in YOUR blog. It is almost creepy.
I have the meds in the fridge too. Unable to do anything with them. Unable to revisit the pain and despair that was my life for the two years before my miracle was born.
Gratitude overwhelms me everyday. Even though its been a rough start for us, I am grateful when I am awoken in the middle of the night, grateful when I get pooped on, grateful beyond imagination for the chance to watch my husband father our son.
btw- Happy Blogoversary! Mine was on Mothers Day, it had passed me by before I realized it.
Wow, such a powerfully honest, heartfelt post. I want to give you a squishy hug. I think holding onto the meds is part of the grieving process. I wouldn't worry about not having thrown them away. It sounds like you are not ready. There is something more that you are still processing. You will know when it is time. Take the time you need to honor your struggles and allow your wounds to heal. It feels like you are in the process of letting things shift and fall into place internally to make sense of it all. And I am glad that you can look at your baby girl with absolute joy and amazement and that you find motherhood so very fulfilling.
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