I'm Ready

For the past few months my blogging volume has been much lower than I would expect.  Tax Season made sense - I was just so busy!  Shortly thereafter, though, a purple elephant entered our virtual room here.  Anytime I think about writing all I can see is this purple elephant.  ANytime I talk to someone I struggle to make conversations about anything other than the purple elephant.  But I don't WANT to talk about the elephant!  I don't want to think about it!  I just don't want it to exist.
But it does, and after a few months of processing I think I've accepted it.  After slowly talking to a few people about it I  think I am finally ready to write about it.
The plus side: once we identify the beast, my comical writing content will likely explode because boy have I passed up on some funny opportunities!  Lots to laugh about, we just have to get there first.
In May I met with a doctor at a fertility clinic and was diagnosed with a condition referred to as PCOS.  Google it if you want; the short of it is that all of my reproductive processes in my body seem to work in autonomy rather than unity.  They're all marching to the beat of their own drums, if you will, and getting them all on course will take some well coordinated effort. It's not impossible to get pregnant with PCOS. It's very common and my doctor is hopeful. But it won't be easy.

To be told I have a small form of fertility trouble is one of the most gut wrenching things someone could tell me. I have known my whole life I was meant to be a mom. I've been a mom by nature far longer than I've been a mom and I dreamed my whole life of the brood I'd raise. To be told I'm incapable - even in the slightest - has been one of the most difficult things I've ever dealt with. Then to see people who I perceive to be unfit be blessed with the opportunity just kills me inside.

All of the abused children.

All of the abandoned children.

All of the ignored children.

All of the parents who had no intention of conceiving and have to 'come to terms with it'.

Couldn't some of that be erased by giving me a baby? Couldn't I be the expecting mom instead of the woman who is struggling to break her alcohol addiction? Or the mom who isn't even trying? Why them? Why not me?

I have been so ashamed. Every time I've heard of a new baby - either someone I'm genuinely excited for or someone I'm inappropriately jealous of - I am reminded of one thing: I'm not capable. I can't do it. In this effort, to date I have failed.

I received very encouraging words from my dear dear friend Kristine a few months back regarding infertility. She said it is one of the most taboo topics and one of the most isolating feelings. As always, Kris is right. I have never felt more alone. 

I have a lot of people who are more than willing to talk to me. I have an abundance of love and support. I know that. But to talk to someone who has 4 kids of her own (or 2 or 3) is just as isolating as not talking at all. She doesn't get it. Or to talk to someone who has never tried to have kids? She doesn't know the pain and frustration. She can sympathize and support, but she doesn't get it.  None of  them do. Every time I'm asked a question I just want to scream, 'I'm not pregnant! What more do you want to know?!'  I can talk to Austin, and he's been an incredibly patient man in this, but when I see him I just internalize more disappointment. He'd never tell me it's my fault he doesn't have more kids, but I know. It is. I know. The only person who may want me to have a baby more than I want me to have a baby is Austin, and it's not his fault that we don't. We can walk together, but I still feel alone.

I've come a long way in the past few months, and I'm not always in the dark place this post exhibits. I'm just bringing you up to speed. God has no doubt taught me great lessons through this and I'm sure he has more to come.

I have an arsenal of topics about which to write with this. Some will be funny, some will be happy, and some (maybe lots) will be sad. But I've decided that if I have hated how isolating and taboo infertility can be, the only way I can attempt to change that is to make an effort to talk. It's not fun to talk about, and I'm sure it's not fun to be on the other end. I don't want to be 'the girl with the baby troubles' any more than you want to be the helpless friend who can't help the girl with the baby troubles. But we're wearing those shoes, so we may as well make them shine. Here's to the good, the bad and the ugly. Thanks for joining me on the journey.