Patience is not my Virtue

Just when I think that I've been patient enough another roadblock appears and patience is once again required.  Two months ago Ravi and I went to the appointment that I was dreading most, hand-in-hand, ready for good news or bad news, that would finally bring us some closure. However, the worst happened and we received the bad news that even despite all the hormones and Meds I had received during my IVF cycle my biopsy once again came back abnormal just like during my IUI cycle. I hated crying in the doctor's office, but in that moment my hopes had not just been dashed but obliterated.  Yet somehow in my deepest despair I long to find that closure that we had done all we could medically and we needed to move on, but the emptiness in my chest told me closure would not be coming today.  Just at that moment my diligent and sympathetic doctor  gave us one last hope, through a very experimental treatment of my adenomyosis.  I would need to start myself on birth control and then into weeks receive my first of three Lupron shots to stop my cycles and let my uterus hopefully repair itself or, in other words, get a reboot. Ravi and I left the doctors that day with the thinnest crack of hopeful light piercing the dark black clouds of bad news.  After praying and discussing this new option we came to the conclusion that we should try this last treatment to find the closure we would need if IVF is in fact not an option.

 Just a week ago I received my second shot and all I have received so far have been horrible, intense hot flashes and a cycle that has gone on over three weeks.  After multiple phone calls to my doctor and seeing them face-to-face on this last Lupron shot visit I have been counseled time in again to let things take their course and "be patient". Apparently these medical practitioners do not understand that patience is that the NOT my virtue.  With all of the physical side effects, this last treatment has been the biggest roller coaster thus far.  With my hormones off the charts, I have had multiple small breakdowns where I just wanted to throw in the towel and give up .  However, I know to my very core that fear is the opposite of faith. Every time I begin to doubt I remind myself that although infertility has robbed me of time, sanity, money, and control it will not steal my faith. So as miserable, sad, overwhelmed, and powerless I may feel I still cling to my faith that we will get a miracle and that miracle will be our baby!

Imaginary Finish Line

We've all been there...running a race or counting down the minutes on the clock until we leave school or work...feeling like time is standing still when all we want to do is be finished. We want that closure, that ending, so that we can feel completed and move onto other races or activities. This is where I have been for the last five years.  I have endured two different surgeries, four failed IUI procedures, and most recently received the crushing news that I am no longer a candidate for IUI, with the cherry on top that I may not be a candidate for IVF either. Now, I am finally on my last lap of the race, the last hour of the work day, and I feel weakened and tired. All that stands behind me and the finish line is one last test, one last hurdle to jump. 

In the meantime I suffer, I feel sometimes like I can't go on or fight the good fight anymore. The only thing spurring me on is my amazing race partner and my little co-worker. They give me strength and love when my heart feels so fractured. Our whole lives, from the youngest age of verbal communication we resent the word "NO". We pitch tantrums as toddlers, stomp our feet as children, and fall into a pit of teenage angst and despair as teenagers at the mere mention of the word. However, as an adult the word carries just as much weight and punishment. How should you respond as you see every other friend around you keep having baby after baby without ever hearing that horrible two-letter word? Will it ever get easier to see the plethora of baby pictures posted on social media as you heart yearns for that time again? Will you sweet, little miracle child's prayerful cries for a sibling ever stop stinging like lemon juice on a fresh paper cut...so small and uneventful to the untrained fertile eye though deep and painful like a sword plunged into the heart? 

Each day is a struggle and each minute a plea for understanding, peace, and a grateful heart for all that I have in my life. However, I'm staggering toward the finish line nonetheless hoping beyond hope to finish the race on my feet.