I began a very challenging new job in January, teaching first grade to an adorable (and exhausting) group of kids. I love it on many levels. It is a good distraction from the daily reminder that there is a huge, baby-shaped hole in our life. But even with this heightened level of distraction, I am reminded every moment of every day, as I watch their sweet, innocent faces, that I want my own version of a first-grader in my own life and in my own arms. It is a completely bittersweet experience.
There are some days where I think my heart is going to explode out of my chest from aching so much. I hurt from the inside out. We are on three months now of being told we can't move forward with any treatment because I have ovarian cysts that pop up at the very beginning of my cycles. This month, I was ultrasound monitored on day two, and I already had a four centimeter corpus luteum cyst on my right ovary. Last month, there was a follicular cyst on my left ovary. It is incredibly frustrating. We can't move forward because of the risk of hyper-stimulation and hormone overproduction. I suppose I should be grateful that an ovarian cyst means my scans are all covered by insurance, but right now, I would sell everything I own to pay to be pregnant. Gratitude is hard to cultivate and practice right now.
The doctor thinks I will have another period in about two weeks, and that the cyst I had probably contained and released an egg. We probably had a shot at getting pregnant this month on our own, until an unfortunate case of strep throat for hubby sent that chance flying right out the window. Time will tell if we can start things over in two more weeks. I am pretty sure we had the same scenario happen in December when we took a month off of treatment. I had two periods two weeks apart. It is amazing and frightening what injection fertility drugs can do to mess with your hormone production. Things are happening two weeks earlier than they should, and without the ultrasound monitoring, we would never even know. Doctors are a gift from heaven.
Starting this summer, we will be squirreling away money to save for an adoption, if necessary. I think the reality of that being a very likely way that we start a family has finally hit me in the face. I have nothing but positive feelings about adoption, but I also know that process will be its own harrowing, emotional journey. The thought of embarking on that new and assuredly rocky road feels so scary that I don't know if I could handle it.
Writing about all of this is an opportunity for reflection, and a chance for me to look for something positive. This week, I read a scripture that has stuck with me. It said that Christ will succor his people according to their infirmities. I have to rely on what I know deep down, even if it doesn't feel like I am being heard and it certainly doesn't feel like my prayers are being answered. It is so hard to pray over and over again for the same thing. It is much easier to just feel empty and like a victim. I'm trying hard to stop living in the realm of negativity. The scripture helped me glimpse what I have known in the past, that Christ will always give me what I need to get through to the next waypoint on my journey. Most days, I have a hard time remembering that. When I have the chance to think, to pray, to be taught by the Spirit, I know that Christ will succor me, and that I am not alone, hopeless or worst of all, a failure. It's easier to remember that some days than others. But I do remember.
I know I haven't experienced all of the hurt and heartache that is coming my way, but until I've ridden out this turbulent storm, I'll rely on what I know and sweet six-year-old smiles to get me through.
