Life Stories

Sigh...here I am again, behind as always. I was 2 weeks late entering the world and I believe it set me up to be perpetually behind. I've decided to change directions with my blog entries. I'll add some pictures here and there, but I thought it would be more meaningful to include where we are in our life. The latest trends in technology give us more surface connection, but it definitely impedes from emotional and relational connection. And I've been more convicted lately about needing to plug more into my relationships. We are, after all, one in the same body.

I partly cringe at the thought of having to write the most significant part of our story at the present moment, but I need to leap outside my comfort zone and share. I hope that it will make me more relatable, more connected, more engaged, more human.

The story that I want (scratch that...need) to share is one of barrenness. That word could describe a multitude of scenarios, but concerning me it describes my body. Again, I cringe. When the story began, the word 'infertile' was applied to people who were 1) older and 2) had significant health problems. At least, that was my personal definition. I had come into contact with several patients at my work who were infertile due to their lasting eating disorders. I knew an aunt/uncle who were unable to conceive children. But that was the scope of my experience with infertility.

When we were first married, like most couples do, we planned our life. It originally involved waiting 2 years before we started attempting to have children. Two years came and went and we moved to Virginia. It didn't seem like the optimal time and, honestly, I didn't want children at that moment. I loved my time with Jason, I loved the freedom to go and be and do whatever we pleased. It was a selfish desire, but an honest one at that. I asked Jason to put it off for a while longer. We decided 6 more months. And 6 months came and went. I asked again to push it back. Looking back, I was scared of the uncertainty and the extreme transformation that comes along with a child. So we decided to begin trying around our 3rd anniversary. More specifically, on vacation...more specifically, on my 29th birthday. (If you can't tell already, I'm very type A and love my plans!)

Our lavish 'baby-making' vacation was on a Mediterranean cruise. How romantic...how exceptional...what a wonderful story that would make for our children and family. Of course it was bound to happen on the first month's attempt. I had read the books, done my research, everything was lined up and prepared. (Pretty certain God is laughing right now!) But the first month had no success. No sweat, just got carried away with my overzealous planning. By month three I started getting nervous. Seems a little silly, but I knew the statistics by heart:

25% of couples conceive in the first month
50% by the third month
60% by the sixth month
75% by the ninth month
85% by the twelve month
95% by the eighteenth month

Fast forward to month 6...Jason's job announced that they were closing his base and he would have to move to a different position. Says the type A person to herself "Oh, well that makes perfect sense. God's waiting till we move so life can be orderly and settled and just right." We move back to Phoenix. A few more months with the in-laws and we finally move to our new home almost a complete year from when we went on our cruise. I now label myself as the "less than 15 percent who do not conceive in the first 12 months." My mind becomes confused, overwhelmed and I begin to do more research. Maybe I've missed something. My very subtle anxiety over the past few months begins to surface and fester into something more like panic and denial. "No way, not me. I'm in great health. There's nothing wrong with me."

Denial and anxiety dominated this phase of my infertility. I kept bargaining with myself, "just another month and then I'll consider making an appointment with the doctor." Ah, bargaining...another stage of grief.

I think I'll stop for the time being and pick up later this weekend. This is getting really long! If you are reading, thank you for listening to my story. I see this project as more for myself - I'm finally prepared to look at the story and I don't want to ever forget it. It is more selfishly for my purpose of remembering. I don't want to forget my grief, I want to wrestle with and grow from it. Our stories may not be desired or pretty, but they are ours to claim and use for God's glory.