Delays, Dilemmas and Dissociation

Well, the appointment with the reproductive endocrinologist that was supposed to happen Friday, didn't. Thanks to the local university that I attend full time, my insurance will be changing the second week of August, thereby changing all of our plans. Not only does the insurance coverage change, so will the clinic we will use, the date of our initial visit and quite possibly the amount we will have to pay. The upside is, we may actually be better off with that last change.



I'm surprisingly peaceful at this point. I have established my personal thoughts and beliefs regarding IVF and everything related to this treatment. My husband however, is still on the fence. Poor man, I hurt for him as he struggles to decipher his own feelings while balancing those feelings with his love for me. I've said everything I can say on the subject. We are a team and will make this decision together. I pray that we both settle on the same desire, whatever that may be. Being the consistent, logical and low-key man that he is means he'll most likely reserve judgement until we've heard everything the doctor has to say.



I've recently been doing some research into books and articles written by "christian" authors and am finding through the reviews by readers that there are a lot of very unhappy, disillusioned and grief stricken women traveling the same road that we are. I keep asking myself if there is something wrong with me that I'm not destroyed by this diagnosis. Should I be more upset? Should I be more depressed?



We have a very solid marriage and my husband is my best friend. We love spending time together and are always looking for new ways to have fun and strengthen our relationship. We already are a beautiful family and don't feel that something is "missing" from our lives because we don't have a child. We view children as a wonderful bonus and blessing from God but not as a requirement for happiness or completeness. This certainly doesn't diminish my desire for children any, rather it makes me secure in the knowledge that we offer a strong, loving atmosphere for a child to grow and learn in.



This, paradoxically, leads me to one of my fears...Do I want it bad enough?

Is my peace and contentment with my husband like a jinx to my dream of a child? Or worse yet, is it the Holy Spirit telling me we are meant to be childless and I just haven't recognized his voice yet?

A year or so into our marriage I had this sudden, gut wrenching, to-the-core-of-my-being feeling that I wouldn't be able to have children. Nothing had happened in my life to make me think this way. There was no medical history, personally or ancestrally, that would lead to this conclusion and we hadn't even tried for a baby yet. But there it was. I told my husband about it and being a man (meaning he has never experienced women's intuition), chided me and told me I was being silly. So I put it out of my head as best as I could. Of course it was simmering in the back of my head until one day in the shower (why do all my best talks with God happen in the shower?) I felt as though His voice said to me "I didn't make you wait 30 years for the man I had for you to then deny you the corresponding desire for children". It was liberating, intoxicating and cause for rejoicing! Right up to the moment I was told my tubes were blocked and my husband wasn't sure about "playing God" with medical procedures.



Is this peace I have from God? Or is it simply dissociation?

Rough times ahead...

It has now been four days since the bomb dropped. I feel pretty good to tell you the truth. A large part of my shock and emotion was due to a report that seemed so different from what we were expecting.

I'm feeling better about my stand on IVF but my husband is struggling. To him it all seems so "mechanical" and not "natural". I did, of course, remind him that dating online was "mechanical" and not "natural" to me, but thanks to the big guy upstairs I joined match.com anyway. And was subsequently "winked" at by the wonderful, compassionate and super cute man who has been my husband for nearly four years. There is so much information and so many opinions out there about IVF and ART, that to preserve my sanity I'm just waiting to talk to our reproductive endocrinologist later this week. A week which no doubt will be full of stress, anxiety, tears, fears and tons of long, insightful conversations (which my husband hates). In the end though, I have no other choice than to put my faith and hope in God and wait for what He deems best for us. In the meantime, I admit, I'm probably going to do everything I can to help my husband see the "normalcy" in doing whatever we can to have a little one.

Stunned

Less than 20 minutes ago I was told that at the age of 35, the only way I would have children of my own is to go through a procedure that I'm not sure I am morally secure with. Stunned? You betcha, like a bird that sees a beautiful, dream like sky and only realizes after he falls to the ground with a crack in his beak that it was a REALLY clean window reflection.



I know that God is in control of everything, but how do I tell my husband? How do I tell my friends and family that have been rooting for us through all the stupid and embarassing tests? What do I tell them when they ask the hard questions? I suppose if I use big medical words they'll react like I did and just shut down for a bit trying to comprehend it all. Why do doctors use these crazy, big medical words when describing a diagnosis? I think it's the stun factor. If you are stunned they can finish what they have to say and either hang up or leave the room before you start crying. I don't really blame them though...how do you comfort someone who has just been told they have cancer or some other incurable disease?



Don't get me wrong, I'm not comparing my blocked fallopian tubes to medical diagnosis that ends in someone's death. I am for the moment, however, comparing it to a diagnosis that ends in the death of a dream. Do I want to go through the expense, the procedures, the moral ambiguity of invitro fertilization? Do I want to do everything I possible can to produce a child that is a combination of me and my husband? Do I want to potentially regret not having done everything I could to realize the second half of the dream I've had since childhood?



I'm sure, not long from now, I will return to my secure faith and belief that God has a perfect plan for us. Until then, I will just let it all hang out and be honest with my feelings. I'm scared, I'm stressed, I'm nervous, I'm frustrated, I'm angry, I'm sad and I'm relieved. I'm relieved because now I understand. After three years of early morning thermometer appointments, daily charting and perfectly timed trips to the bedroom I finally understand why I don't have a child to show for it.