Don't mind me, I'll be at the kid's table

I gravitate towards children.  At each dinner or holiday party- I find myself at the kids table.  It's something I've done my entire life.  I'm not sure if it's due to the fact that I didn't really have any family close in age or if it's that I'm a nurturing person by nature--but I've always loved kids.  I've always loved being around kids.  When I was a teenager, I didn't have any cousins really close in age.  But I had a lot of young cousins to dote on, so I spent a lot of time helping take care of them.  Now as I'm older, I have nieces and nephews to cherish time with.  And I am so thankful for the special bond that I've cultivated with each of them because without that this pain would be ten times worse.

Now, even as an adult, I still feel more comfortable around kids.  I prefer to sit with the kids and shower them with attention.  I love to hear their stories and watch them grow right before my eyes. But infertility brings a new aspect to that...being around kids-it hurts.  It aches deep in my soul.  It reminds me of everything I'm not experiencing on a daily basis.   It reminds me that if my infertility wasn't a factor I would be a mom.

My infertility continues to change me.  There have been so many times in the last four years where I have thought "This has to be it, this pain can't possibly get worse.  This pain is a 10 on the sliding scale." But that's because up until each of those points- that pain was the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.  The pain of every single bone in your body hoping and wishing for a child, but not being able to do anything about it is crushing.    Even now when we are in this weird limbo stage of deciding what we will do next with our infertility, if we will continue down this path to try to have a child or leave it behind, I am still in pain.  Each time that I have thought that the pain couldn't get worse it does. I used to think that it would get better, but now I'm realizing that it doesn't get better.  The pain doesn't go away.  My heart just gets used to it so it can make way for the new pain that is about to enter as new milestones approach. With each passing year, each birthday, each holiday--the pain gets worse.

 

1, 2, 3

There are three groups of people who surround you in your struggles.  There are people in your life who can understand what you're going through because they've been through it too.  Then, there are others who choose not to be empathetic because they don't have the desire to understand. The last group is full of people who don't know your struggle personally, yet they lend an ear and try to understand it anyway.

Be hopeful for the first group that they make it through their struggles.  Be compassionate towards the second even if they aren't showing compassion towards you.  And be thankful for the third group.  Be thankful for those people that can try to put themselves in your shoes and attempt to understand what you're going through.

Our struggle with infertility has shown me people in each of these groups.  I have many friends who have experienced infertility.  It breaks my heart if they're still struggling to conceive because I know we're on the same path, wavering between the fine lines of hope and desperation.  It breaks my heart if they've conceived, because I know that they have experienced infertility and I know that years of this pain leaves a lasting impression on a person.

The second group is the most difficult.  These are the people that know we're struggling with infertility and they don't care.  People in this group come in all different forms.  Some think that our infertility is our own fault, instead of viewing it as the disease it truly is.  Others don't understand why our infertility affects us as much as it does.  They can't fathom why this journey could be so heartbreaking.

Then there is the last group of people.  Often times they don't even realize that they are in this group, but they want so badly to be there for you that their compassion comes naturally.  Luckily, I have a few amazing people who fit into this group.  They've never been in my shoes, but they know I'm in pain.  They recognize that I'm struggling.  They don't need proof of the pain, they just want to know how they can help. They are a select few--the people who show compassion without question.

Diagnosis

We finally had our appointment with the reproductive endocrinologist, where I was officially diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic ovary syndrome).  Basically, its condition that is caused by a hormonal imbalance, it can cause weight gain, irregular periods and cysts on your ovaries.
According to Dr Wittmaack, it should have been diagnosed two years ago when we first went in for the testing in January of 2012, because those are the results he used to diagnosis me.

Dr Wittmaack wants to run several blood tests over the next few months before deciding on a plan. He seemed concerned that I was given 9 rounds of Clomid without running more tests.   He seems like a really great doctor, very knowledgeable.  As far as the new office--We love it. From the moment we walked in, we both felt very comfortable.  I also really appreciate that it is not a joint office with an OBGYN.  It's helpful to not have to sit in a waiting room with several pregnant women while the only thing my ovaries are working on,  is growing cysts.

In other news- I've really been trying to focus on my life and on making sure that I'm not putting myself into situations that I can't emotionally handle.  It's been great for me, and it's really made the process of my diagnosis much easier to handle.

I also want to share a friend's blog; she's going to have a fantastic set of posts coming up that are letters from infertile women to friends or family members in their lives.  I can't wait for these posts, I think they'll be extremely touching and emotional.  Check them out at http://lookingforfocus.blogspot.com/2014/03/letters-from-faces-of-infertilityloss.html.  I believe the posts will be starting next week!