After taking 9 pregnancy tests last week and having my blood drawn three different times, it is quite obvious that I am finally pregnant!

I guess since I've had a history of infertility (that terrible word appears 7 times on my online medical chart) they wanted to have me come in so they could make sure that my progesterone and HCG levels were rising as they should be. With each blood draw, my levels continued to climb. I really am beginning to feel like this may work out!

But this week as I was celebrating beautifully rising HCG levels that were more than doubling every 48 hours, a writer of one of the infertility blogs I read, was mourning over dropping HCG levels. Like me, she had taken almost a dozen pregnancy tests the previous week. She had had one very faint positive, followed by negative after negative. When she had her betas done, her chemical pregnancy was confirmed. Her HCG levels were dropping.

I've been thinking (and praying) for her a lot this week. The unfairness of infertility still stings. My heart drops when I read her posts—just like when I would start my period each month. I know she feels beaten down at every single turn.

Since becoming pregnant I've only started to realize the toll that infertility has taken on me.

I didn't realize how much brain space was being consumed by infertility. The last two weeks I have been the epitome of relaxed. That's probably not what you imagine a newly pregnant woman to feel like. I feel like a huge weight is off of my shoulder. I have even limited my pregnancy research just so I can cling to this newly found freedom. Who knows how long it will last?

I still avoid pregnant women like the plague. I thought that once my infertility was resolved that I would no longer be infertile. But in a weird way, I still am. When I went into the clinic those three times for my blood draw, I looked around the waiting room, trying to find a seat next to a group of old ladies instead of all the pregnant bumps everywhere. I don't feel like I'm "one of them" yet. I assume this will go away eventually, but realistically I know infertility has changed me forever. And also, I realize I may have more problems in the future. It's not guaranteed that it's over for me.

I have been struggling with survivor's guilt this week as I've been reading this other girl's blog. It's not fair that she can't get pregnant. So I feel like it's not fair that I did get pregnant.

I guess this is really the first time I've acknowledged how life-changing infertility is. I guess I assumed that once my infertility was resolved that life would go back to how it was before all of this. But I'm different now. I guess all I can do is learn from it, grow from it, and start readying my heart for our little baby!

Celebrating Prognancy

No, that's not a typo in the title. We really are celebrating prognancy. Never heard of it? That's because it's something that me and hubby made up this morning.

This morning I decided, "Heck, I know I'm only 9 days post ovulation, but I've got 20 pregnancy tests in my stock, so why not test?" Peed in a cup. Dipped the test in. Laid it on the counter. Checked the time to make sure I checked back within 10 minutes. I checked back in 8 minutes. There was a very light 2nd line.

Now, back in January I had a test with an evap line. I had thrown away a negative test, only to fish it out several hours later, and there was a 2nd line. I got my hopes up thinking maybe it was a positive, but it wasn't. Just an evil evap. We all know you aren't supposed to read those tests past the time limit, but I think we all do it.

Last month I had what I THINK was a light line that was so light some people couldn't see it. But let's face it, not everyone has as good of eyesight as I do, right? I was so unsure that I decided to wait until the next day and tested again. It was as negative as you can get. Then the next day my temperature dropped, and you know who came to visit. Not Voldemort, silly! Good ol' aunt flow!

So when I saw the second line this morning, I just sat it back down on the counter and thought, "Hmm, that's funny that there is a second line. It must be wrong."

See the little pink line?!?

When husband got home from his shift, I wanted to get his second opinion. He looked at the test and said, "Isn't the second line supposed to be as dark or darker than the control line?' Silly husband. You are thinking of OPKs! I quickly switched him over into pregnancy test land where a second line of any darkness is a positive. His final response was, "don't get your hopes up, it might not be." He also told me to view this as progress, not pregnancy.

Tomorrow we had a doctors appointment that required us to be within quick driving distance to the fertility clinic. So tonight we have a hotel room booked just a mile from the clinic. We decided to cancel the appointment until further notice (if I'm not actually pregnant we will reschedule). But we still have a non-refundable hotel reservation our hands. Husband decided we should celebrate progress tonight. We will still be using the hotel and going out to eat tonight. Hence, we are celebrating prognancy tonight!

And instead of going to the fertility clinic tomorrow, I set up an appointment to get blood pregnancy test. I felt crazy setting up the appointment. Like, I shouldn't be doing it since it will just be negative. Surely. And when she went ahead and scheduled an ultrasound in November, I was like, "Oh great, now I'm just going to have to cancel that in the next couple of days when I figure out that I am not pregnant after all."

I feel like if I hadn't gone through infertility, I wouldn't be doubting this pregnancy test. I would simply set up an ultrasound at 8 weeks, figure out a cute way to announce our pregnancy to husband, and that would be the end of it.

Infertility has blown apart my expectations. I expected to get pregnant quickly. I expected it would be super easy. I expected I would just "know" I was pregnant. I expected that when I got a positive pregnancy test, it would be this huge, "OMG, I'M FREAKIN' PREGNANT!". I didn't expect that I would just look at the test and shrug, assuming it was a joke from the universe. I didn't expect that my 'big announcement" to my husband would be me meeting him at the door with the pee stick in hand and asking him to give me his opinion. I didn't expect that my husband would tell me not to get my hopes hope, that maybe this is not a positive.

Lastly, I definitely didn't expect to be celebrating prognancy instead of pregnancy. But I feel like any celebrating at this point is good. I figure that tomorrow night we will either be celebrating again, or I will be in bed crying. It all depends on that blood test tomorrow!

Ten Things I'm Thankful for Today

Ten Things I'm thankful for today:

1. Instead of going to work, I got to sleep in a little and glam myself up for husband's graduation at the Fire Academy.

2. When I locked myself out of the house and was afraid I wouldn't make it to husband's graduation, I tried the garage keypad one last time (the batteries died about a week ago) and it was a miracle of God that the door eventually opened so I was able to get our spare key.

3. Driving down to Camden I wasn't quite sure where I was going. I ended up seeing a Conway Fire Department truck and knew that they were also going to the graduation. I followed them all the way there.

4. After running over a traffic cone, I was able to find a parking spot (My car obviously just took the place of the traffic cone). Now that I think about it, that probably wasn't a parking spot. Oh well.

5. I just barely managed to get a seat in the very back.

6. Husband led the prayer at the beginning of the graduation. It was beautiful, and he did a wonderful job.

7. Husband graduated! Yay!

Isn't he so handsome?!?

8. We got to eat lunch at a quaint, little diner to celebrate.

9. Upon arriving home, I checked the mail. A package with an infertility product had shown up, and guess what? They gave me a bag of baby dust! Do you remember that blog post I did titled, "You Know You're Infertile If . . ."? Well, I mentioned something about baby dust on there, and now instead of being given cyber baby dust from girls on forums, I have REAL baby dust! I giggled when I saw it.

10. Husband and I enjoyed a 30 minute walk with our puppies. It was calming, and the weather was cool. And we made it back to our house just minutes before it started raining.

So there are ten things that I'm thankful for today. It was an eventful and good day.

Not a Day for Mascara

I really need to invest in some good waterproof mascara. The mascara I have right now is not so waterproof. I hardly wear it, because I cry pretty much all the time. But today I was feeling pretty confident and happy, so I put that mascara on, and headed out the door.

First thing at work, we had a devotion with the entire content team. A guy who is new to our content team led today. He asked us to turn to Psalm 139. My heart jumped. Do you remember that I wrote a blog post a couple of weeks about Psalm 139? Probably not. So if you need a refresher, click here. For some reason, when I found out that we were talking about Psalm 139, I wondered, "Are he and his wife struggling with infertility?" I immediately shook that thought out of my head, and just assumed we were going to talk about babies or something. I was prepared to act like I got a phone call so I could walk out of the room.

Then he began to talk about how he had originally viewed that verse, and now through life's circumstances, he is looking at it from a different angle. Just like me, he had previously read that verse and thought about babies, and the sanctity of life, and whatnot. And that's a great perspective on that verse. But also, just like me, he started to talk about how infertility has made him and his wife read the verse differently. He talked about how we can shake our fists at God in anger for how he has formed our bodies, or we can yield to Him, and trust that He is using us for His glory.

I had the hardest time not bursting into tears. It was unreal to me that just a week or so ago I had been going through this chapter and praying that God would remove my anger and hatred of my body, and now my coworker was talking about the same exact verse, the same exact situation, the same frustrations. If I wasn't so incredibly secretive about my infertility (and my blog) I would assume he had been lurking on my blog.

Next we split into small groups to pray. We prayed over a few prayer requests, but then a different coworker (who as far as I know is also unaware of my issues) began praying for all infertile couples. He prayed for God to bless their wombs and to comfort them. I didn't hear the rest of the prayer because at that point I was for real crying, and unfortunately very concerned about my mascara (shallow?).

I've been praying that God would work in my heart and life. I have been begging Him to help me to yield to His spirit. I have been asking Him to show me his power and love (and acknowledging that that does not have to come packaged as a baby, although I still have my fingers crossed!). I can tell that my heart is changing. And I can tell God is orchestrating different encounters to change my heart, encourage me, show me His love.

Today I don't feel alone. I don't feel ignored. I don't feel guilty, but forgiven. I don't feel hopeless, but hopeful. Today I feel thankful. Today I don't feel tired.

And tomorrow, I'm going to wear that mascara!

What is Your Biggest Dream?

I've never been good at journaling, but have always been attracted to the idea of it. So I have started countless journals, only to quit, because I realize that while there are definitely things worth remembering, my day-to-day life is kind of boring. Last year I finally found something that works for me!

It's a five year journal. On each day of the year, it asks a question. Each year, for five years, on that exact date, you answer. You may be shocked to see how much your life has changed in a year. Or maybe you realize that some things haven't changed at all.

You will answer questions like:

Today was delightful because _______

If you had to move to a new city, where would you move?

What was your last great meal?

What made you laugh today?

So it's all fun, and super quick each day. I have managed to keep up with it for 14 months so far! So I'm getting to answer questions now that I answered last year. It's interesting to see how I answered last year as opposed to this year. Today's question was kind of sad, though.

 

It reminded me how much time has gone by. How my attitude has completely shifted from being hopeful, and expectant. How different my world is now. Last year when I answered this question, we had been trying to conceive for six months already and I just KNEW that it would happen next cycle.

This year, I'm tired. I'm a bit beat down. We've been trying for 18 months now. I DON'T think it will happen next cycle, or the next, or next. And I wonder what I will be writing in 2015, 2016, and 2017. Will we finally get to start our family? Will we be beginning the adoption process? Will we still be childless, and wondering what I would be writing for 2018, 2019, and so on? Will God give me a different dream?

I didn't expect infertility. Babies happen so easily for everyone else, it seems. Starting a family didn't seem like an unobtainable dream a year ago. Now it seems like one of those dreams that you are kind of crazy for dreaming. Like it's so unrealistic.

I have been praying so much lately for renewed hope. As I said, I am tired and beat down. I've lost a lot of hope. I've definitely lost any expectation that I had October 8th of last year. And I hope that in 2015, 2016, and 2017—regardless of what my circumstances are like—that I can still dream about something.

Prayer is Hard

The other day, a pregnant Facebook friend posted an image that had a prayer for a mom to pray for her child. My first-time pregnant friend posted how happy she was to be praying for the life growing inside of her. I genuinely felt happy for her. I smiled, knowing that she is getting a lot of joy from her baby and God's blessing in her life.

I started thinking about how prayer is easy when you're thankful and happy. And often times, a person is driven to prayer when something bad happens in their life. But what about when the bad won't go away? And you've been praying and praying, and it seems all for naught? That's when prayer gets hard. It seems like a chore. It takes so much energy. So much emotion. Sometimes I have to force myself to pray, because quite honestly, I don't want to.

I ran across an article today titled When God Feels Cruel (click here to read). It was helpful to me to reorient my thinking. To remind me to focus on what God says He is doing, and not what it feels like God is doing.

I feel like God isn't listening, but God says he is: "In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried to my God: He heard my voice out of His temple, and my cry came before Him, even unto His ears. –Psalm 18:6

I feel like God is punishing me, but God says I am forgiven: "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." –1 John 1:9

I feel like this situation is going to break me, but God says He will use it to build me up: "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." –James 1:2–4

I feel like I am alone, but God says He is with me: "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. –Isaiah 41:10

I am so thankful that I ran into this article today. I'm expecting today to be a bad day, so it is good to have God's words fresh in my mind. I know it's silly to expect today to be bad, but I just know the routine. My temperature dropped today, so I am literally expecting my period to start any minute now. With the start of a period, comes the crashing down of the hope that I've built up this cycle. I also have my post-op appointment with my doctor. I have a sneaking suspicion that he is about to refer me to a reproductive endocrinologist. He has pretty much done everything he can for me, at this point.

So today, if I encounter anything painful, I will remember that God is listening, God has forgiven me, God will use this situation to build me up, and that God is with me. And as I pray, I will give thanks for these promises.

For He is Good

I've been thinking about thankfulness a lot lately. And that's just it. I have been thinking about it, but not practicing it in my life. Sure, I'm thankful for my husband, my job, my home, my friends and family, but I don't think my thankfulness has gone any further than that lately. It's almost like a vague thankfulness that anyone in the world could have—Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, atheist—anyone. It hasn't driven me to my heavenly Father, the giver and sustainer of life.

As you know, I'm a designer, so to help me meditate and memorize verses, I like to draw scriptures. As I was drawing Psalm 107:1, I was thinking about thankfulness. I had somewhat of an epiphany. I have only had this vague thankfulness because it's all about my comfort. I'm thankful for my husband, because quite frankly, he's awesome. Having an awesome husband makes life comfortable. So does my job, home, friends, and family.

Psalm 107:1 reminded me that the motivation of my thankfulness is God's goodness, not my comfort. My vague thankfulness has not driven me to worship because it has been dependent on my comfort level—and believe me, infertility is uncomfortable! While I know that God is good, I will admit that I've struggled with questioning His goodness. How could He let infertility happen to me? How could He let ___ die?

But God's goodness is not dependent on my circumstances. I'm choosing to believe God's goodness, and am choosing to be thankful in this situation knowing that God will work in it—someway, somehow. God is always good, and as He chips away the parts of my heart that are not good, I pray that I can learn to always be thankful.

When are You Going to Have Kids?

When are you going to have kids?

Does anyone else hate that question? I hated that question from the moment husband and I got married. When we got married, I was still in school. Husband was working full time at a low-paying job to support us. We had NO money. It was risky enough for us to get married, so we knew it wasn't time to add another member to our family.

As time went on, I graduated and began to work full time as well. We were in a better place financially. When people asked at that time, I basically felt like they were asking when we were going to quit birth control, and if we were having a lot of sex.

It's really a completely innocent (although nosy) question, I know. I usually cut people plenty of slack the first couple of times asked, but if asked multiple times, I would have a harder and harder time restraining my annoyance.

But guess what? I have found a new way to ensure that people don't ask this question any more!

Since my surgery a couple of weeks ago, I've been slowly coming out of the infertility closet. It's been somewhat hilarious as I work out the appropriateness of what I share, who I share with, etc. I was talking to an older male coworker one day, and he asked how long I had been married. "Five years," I responded, knowing exactly what the next question was. "Do you have any kids?" I quickly responded, "no". It stung in my ears.

He went on the talk about how him and his wife had been on the five year plan, but his wife had quit birth control earlier, assuming it would take a while to get pregnant, but BAM! She was pregnant right away! He laughed at his wife's ability to get pregnant—like it was something cute. Meanwhile I'm feeling a little irritated, for no other reason than I am internally struggling with jealousy of his wife's ability to get pregnant.

Before even thinking, I blurted out, "Well, I'm infertile, so . . . no surprises like that for me." I assure you, the conversation about kids ended right then and there! Maybe there are benefits to being out of the infertility closet, after all!

Several times as I've thought over that conversation, I've shook my head wondering, "Why did I say that? Surely I made him really, really uncomfortable!" But infertility is uncomfortable. I've had to show my doctor charts of all the times I've had sex in the past year. I had to tell him about my cervical mucous. I had to have multiple exams, and even a surgery.

I really think that there should be more awareness about infertility. People need to be aware that some couples are suffering in silence—if only the keep them from asking that age old question, "when are you going to have kids?"

A Grace Disguised

I've mentioned in my "About Me" section that I am a graphic artist at a marriage ministry. Since it's a ministry, I am not only encouraged to grow in my design skills, but also to grow spiritually. Our close-knit department meets weekly to do a devotion together and to pray for each other.

The last few months, we've been making our way through a book called A Grace Disguised. We've recently had a team member who was very close to each of us pass away. We've begun reading this book as we deal with this extraordinary loss.

The book talks about how the soul grows through loss. Even though most of the time the author is referring to loss in the context of death of a loved one, he mentions all kinds of loss such as a failing business, divorce, raising a mentally challenged child, and yes, even infertility.

Since my friend's death and my first abnormal test happened within a week of each other, I feel like the grief from one loss fed off of the other loss, and vice versa. I was at my darkest point. A Grace Disguised has been helpful as I sorted out feelings of anger towards God, and issues that I had regarding God's sovereignty.

As I finished the book this morning, I liked one paragraph especially:

"Much good has come from it, but all the good in the world will never make the accident itself good. It remains a horrible, tragic, and evil event to me. A million people could be helped as a result of the tragedy, but that would not be enough to explain and justify it. The badness of the event and the goodness of the results are related, to be sure, but they are not the same. The latter is a consequence of the former, but the latter does not make the former legitimate or right or good. I do not believe that I lost three members of my family in order that I might change for the better, raise three healthy children, or write a book. I still want them back, and I always will, no matter what happens as a result of their deaths."

This paragraph was helpful to me at this specific time. I've been trying to figure out if I can be angry about my situation and hate infertility, or if I have to be happy about it. The truth is, I don't have to be happy about it. Infertility is unnatural. It's painful. It is a profound loss—whether or not you'll eventually have children, adopt, or choose to remain childless.

But what about that verse that says to "count it all joy, my brother, when you meet trials of various kinds"? I don't think that means that you are happy about what has happened to you. I think it's talking about a stewardship of pain that is crucial in the Christian life. James even goes on to say, "for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness."

As Jerry Sittser points out in his book, A Grace Disguised, the good that comes from a loss does not make the loss good. The loss will always be bad. I will always hate infertility. But I will strive to find joy in what God is doing in my life right now.

____________

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.

Psalm 139:13–14

This verse is probably the most popular verse for an expectant mother to read. She clings to the fact that God is forming her baby, and that her baby is fearfully and wonderfully made. What a comfort! I even have read Psalm 139 several times during my infertility journey, because it's fun to imagine myself pregnant and clinging to that promise. 

I read this verse again a couple of days ago, but instead of thinking about a perfect, plump baby, I thought of myself. I don't feel like I am "wonderfully" made. I hate my body—not in a minor "I need to lose 5–10 pounds" kind of way, but in a "my body is a broken, decaying, pile of mess that doesn't have the ability to get pregnant, and probably can't even keep a pregnancy." It's dark, isn't it? Well, it's my reality right now.

Before infertility, I knew just the basics about my reproductive system. That was enough at the time. Since joining the infertile club, I have learned WAY more about the reproductive system than what the average person knows. And Oh. My. Goodness. It is complex! I've read some of the latest research in medical journals. I've gotten to where I recognize certain doctor's names, and I know what their research is about. I've even come across varying opinions on one tiny aspect. 

I'm currently reading about beta-3 integrins and their role in implantation. People with endometriosis (such as myself) often do not express beta-3 integrins during any given cycle. Some doctors believe that beta-3 is key to successful implantation and that lack of it would cause implantation failure. Others are adamant that beta-3 has no effect, and it doesn't even matter if it's there or not—so they won't even test for it. See what I mean? Girls—our bodies are crazy complex! We can't even understand it!

I researched to empower myself. To become my own advocate. I know that I care about my health more than my doctor does. I needed to be able to communicate with him and ask appropriate questions. But now I'm more confused than ever. There are so many things that can go wrong making pregnancy not possible. I've only had 3 different tests so far. How in the world can I rule out everything and find the root of the problem? Especially when doctors are still researching the intricacies of the reproductive system and infertility. 

Instead of feeling empowered, I feel powerless.

Instead of being my own advocate, I don't even know where to start. 

But Psalm 139 reminds us that our dear Father in heaven does have power. He formed my entire body, down to the tiniest cell. His works are wonderful. Sometimes when I am trying to make sense of how my body functions (or is supposed to function), I am simply in awe of the creator. His power, His knowledge.

Psalm 139 also reminds me that I should look to my ever-present Lord to be my advocate. He cares more about my health than my doctor does. He's not confused by infertility. He's not forming theories, testing them, and trying to convince doctors about His findings. He intimately knows the intricacies of my body. I know he can heal my body—while my doctor (who I respect very much) is still trying to find out what's wrong with me. 

And when I feel like my body is a "broken, decaying, pile of mess", I can read that I am fearfully and wonderfully made—exactly the way my Lord intended.

____________

Compassion in Suffering

Facebook is a danger zone for someone struggling with infertility. It's possible that several of your Facebook friends are dealing with infertility, but they're obviously not broadcasting what is going on (or not going on) in their uterus or testicles. But for those who are having babies, posting every single update of their pregnancy journey is the funnest part about Facebook! Ultrasound pictures, cute stories about seeing the baby's foot across her stomach, and OH MY GOSH, complaining (!!!) about pregnancy.

Whenever a pregnant woman complains about her pregnancy, it's like my heart turns off, and I have absolutely no compassion in my soul. And I hate that, I truly do. I know pregnancy is hard, although I've never experienced it myself. But I'll find myself in a competition with her thinking, "I'm suffering way more than she is! At least she has a time limit on her suffering, and at the end of it all, she gets to hold her newborn baby! Who knows how long I'll be dealing with this crap! And who knows if I'll hold a baby at the end of this!"

I keep reminding myself that suffering is suffering, no matter what. It's not a competition, and it shouldn't even be compared from one person to the next. The fact that I'm suffering right now does not mean that I am excused from showing compassion and love to a brother or sister. 

I found an article a couple of weeks ago about singleness (click here to read). Ironically, it has been by far the most helpful article in relation to infertility. I simply went through the entire article and replaced the word "singleness" with "infertility". It called me out on a lot of bad attitudes that I have in my heart. Here's one quote from the article:

"Entitlement is one of the great dangers of singleness infertility. It creeps into everything, but at its core it convinces us to focus exclusively on us—a kind of survival mentality—often at the expense of others. As entitlement and self-preoccupation grow and invade our hearts, we become less interested in and compassionate toward others. But the life-giving fruit of the Spirit is kindness—an attitude of friendly sympathy and generosity."

After I read this, I thought about Jesus. He is the ultimate example of compassion, friendly sympathy, and generosity. He knew that he was going to experience ultimate suffering. Brutal death on the cross, taking on the weight of sin of the entire world—past, present, and future. But as he ministered to people, he didn't look at their suffering and say, "Pssh, you don't even KNOW suffering! I'll show you suffering!" He had compassion on them. He joined them in with their suffering. He healed them.

God has placed infertility in my life right now. I hate it. It is literally the worst thing that has ever happened to me—and I'm not trying to be dramatic, here. But I am choosing to believe that He is using it to make me more Christlike. I know I've been seeing more and more of how far short I fall.

I want to have compassion for others. I want to be able to see other people's suffering, and respond to it with kindness—not with entitlement or competition. I'm a major work in progress.

____________

You Know You're Infertile If . . .

Being in the South my whole life means that I've heard my fair share of redneck jokes. Just in case you are wondering, they do not strike close to home. However, for a couple of months I've been making my own list in my head related to infertility. I have picked up strange habits that I didn't even know existed until I was struggling to get pregnant. So here's my list:

You Know You're Infertile If . . .

1. You have documentation of every single time you've had sex since at least a year, maybe more. For all of you infertiles, sex is just a synonym for "baby dancing". I know it's been a while since we said S-E-X.

2. You can read the TTC (trying to conceive) forums without getting confused by the jargon. When I first started getting on the Trying to Conceive forums, I literally could not read what the girls were talking about. There are abbreviations for everything. DH, DD, DS, BBT, OPK, BFP, TTC, BD, CD, DPO, the list goes on and on. If you are new to the infertile club, just hang in there . . . pretty soon it will be your new language. Click here for a list of common abbreviations.

3. You've given or received "baby dust". I've never given baby dust to anyone—I know, I'm so selfish, right? But I have received baby dust when I've asked questions on forums. It hasn't really helped yet, but I guess it can't hurt, right?

4. You get annoyed when people suggest weird tricks to help you get pregnant, yet you scour the internet constantly about weird tricks to help you get pregnant. I have started doing a lot of strange things like castor oil packs, rubbing essential oils on my feet, eating certain foods to make the pH of my vagina and cervical mucous more alkaline (and therefore more sperm friendly). As of now, I'm considering doing a liver cleanse so that my body is able to remove toxins and excess hormones more effectively. The other day the thought even crossed my mind that perhaps my shampoo is the cause of my infertility! I mean, it must be! Toxins and chemicals piled on my head every morning! Then I have to remind myself that people get pregnant regardless of shampoo use.

5. You think store bought pregnancy tests are for suckers. I mean, come on, are you really going to pay $10 for a box with 2 or 3 tests when you can have 100 for $30? Buying pregnancy strips online in bulk is the only way to go, if you ask me! If I ever get pregnant, I'll just wait for a positive pregnancy strip, then I can go get a cute/expensive Clear Blue test for pictures and to show husband.

6. Your husband is sick of hearing about the status of your cervical mucous. I don't think my husband can ever look at a cracked open egg the same way again. I'll leave it at that.

7. You obsessively check your temperature. Once I get that positive OPK, I am even more obsessive about my BBT. I've been known to check my temperature several times in one night whenever I wake up. Husband is not a fan of the thermometer and its beeping.

______________

Let's pause for a moment. 1-7 are things we can laugh about. But as we know, infertility is a life crisis. Laughing at it can be therapeutic in a way, but we also have to acknowledge the pain—whether you yourself are an infertile, or you are a friend of an infertile.

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8. There is not a location that you haven't cried. I have cried in the car, my cubicle, every grocery store in my area, several restaurants, church, teaching Sunday School, family functions, out walking the dog, weddings, doctor's office, etc. You avoid going to certain events just because you know that you will cry and you don't want to make a scene. I haven't cried at a baby shower only because I've refused to go to any baby showers (I've cried at home instead).

9. You struggle with guilt. This may seem odd, but it's very common for infertiles. You think that if only you had made different/better choices in the past, you would not be infertile now. Maybe you should have started trying sooner. Maybe you should have eaten better or controlled your weight better. I even thought that I had somehow cursed myself into infertility. In the past, I would get so angry after being asked several times when I was going to have kids, that I thought, "If only I hadn't been so angry." It doesn't make sense. There's even guilt about how you feel around pregnant women and women with young kids. Maybe I'm just a bit more evil than the average person, but I can not look at a pregnant woman. I get angry, bitter, and jealous. The same goes for women with babies. (FYI, I'm working through the anger, bitterness, and jealousy)

10. Every month is just another chance for you to build up hope and then have it come crashing down. When we first started trying to conceive, I was very laid back. I was even happy when my period would come because I felt it was a good indication that things were returning to normal after getting of birth control. But when you're struggling with infertility, you start thinking that hope might be your enemy. Because you know your period is just around the corner. And it will come. Because something is wrong with your body. That's what you tell yourself.

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The World of If

Husband and I were driving home from dinner the other day. As always, my mind was on pregnancy and babies. As I was talking, I started one of my sentences with the word "when". "When" painfully rang in my ears as I thought, "It may never happen for us." I immediately corrected myself to say "if". Then for the next few seconds, I internally beat myself up for using the "when" word.

That is what infertility does. It replaces when with if. When thinks you can get pregnant easily just like everyone else. When doesn't even acknowledge the fact that for some people, it just doesn't happen. When often has a sense of personal control over the situation. 18 months ago I thought that when I got off birth control I would get pregnant fairly quickly. I would say things like, "This time next year, when we have a baby, it will be so fun to shop for Christmas!" I feel foolish for being so presumptuous. 

But now I'm living in the world of if. Ironically, the common abbreviation for infertility is IF. And IF just about sums it up. If doesn't know what will happen. If leaves room for the negative or positive outcome. If thinks that using the word when would be naively hopeful and closed-minded to life's unexpected turns.

I wish I could have chosen another way to learn about the world of if without having to experience infertility, but regardless, I am trying to be thankful. I think it's better living in the world of if. I'm letting go of control, knowing that I can't plan every detail of our lives. I'm slowly learning what it means to submit to God's will even when His will is the exact opposite of what I would choose for myself. I hope that living in the world of if will open my eyes to be thankful when good things to happen. I hope it teaches me not to have an attitude of entitlement.

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