I'm pretty new to the board (less than a week) and am already so thankful to have finally found the courage to join. Reading everyone's posts has been so beneficial.
My DH and I have been TTC to conceive for 3 years now.
I got my period this morning, which I was expecting, so no real surprise there. Thing is, that officially makes it 36 months. 36 long trying months. There is something about that number that has my head spinning.
We came close twice, with my first 2 IUI cycles (spring 2015). First one I got my BFP, but was already bleeding heavily. And my progesterone, though supplemented with Prometrium, was way too low. I lost that one.
The second round, I used the power of postitivity and I somehow knew the cycle had worked. All the symptoms were there, again. I truly believed it would stick. And then I started bleeding. Earlier and heavier than the last time. I lost it that one too.
Lots of tests, just to check. Everything checked out. Just keep trying they said.
We did one more cycle, that one was a BFN. And honnestly that was okay. It was better than m/c #3. We started seriously talking about IVF.
Then we heard about the coverage in Ontario for IVF, we were so happy for help with our process!!
We found out as much as we could: what would be covered, what would not? When could we get started? What steps did we need to follow?
We were on the waiting list by Halloween, and felt encouraged that things were moving forward.
But then things stalled, no more answers for now. Maybe next week, maybe by end of month.
Soon, in the grand scheme, but never soon enough.
The waiting is what nearly kills me: the 2WW, the wait to get the all clear for a next cycle, the wait to feel fuctional after 2 m/cs, the wait for x-y-z. Okay, I'm being overly dramatic: nothing nearly killed me. Though sometimes it does feel like a little part of you is dying.
So back to today. I got my period. No surprise, but all the disapppointment. Because there is always that hope. Maybe, just maybe this time it happened!?
I refuse to let go of that hope. It pulls me through the hard days. It is like a blanket of comfort when the world makes no sense. It allows me to dream of holding our own baby when yet another friend gives birth.
I love that hope. I need it. And I refuse to let it go.
But that same hope that I cherish betrays me. It is why when I see that first sign of blood, I cry a little. Sometimes, for a fleeting moment, I wish I could be numb, but I'm not. And I know that I do not truly want to stop feeling all the feels. It's just really overwhelming sometimes.
And it's been such a looong time of trying.
I have always been very driven. "If you put your mind to it..." is what I believed, what I still believe. But fertility doesn't really fit into that mentality, does it?
You try: you take all the advice from the doctor, from the naturopath, the acupunturist. You eat better, you don't drink, you exercise, but not too much. You go to therapy, you meditate, you even colour (yay colouring books for adults!) You do everything "right", but still you wait.
And so here I am waiting. Hanging out with hope, my trusty old friend. Reminding myself that infertility does not define me.
There's always next month, next cycle, next year...
Thanks for listening!