A little more than a year ago we closed the door on infertility treatment for good. (You can read our story here.) I remember for a time, my fertility doctor felt so safe. There, I was just like everyone else. There were no swelling bellies, no babies crying, just women trying to get pregnant and their husbands standing beside them. I liked having my health constantly monitored. I appreciated being able to call a nurse with any question and getting a call back within an hour. I liked that the receptionist knew my name.
I worried when I left I wouldn’t have any medical professionals really invested with me and it would be hard. Even more I dreaded walking away because that would mean we were done. We were no longer trying to get pregnant. We had closed the door on biological children and carrying any children in my womb. I would never again get a positive pregnancy test and would never see an ultrasound with more than just my ovaries or empty uterus, never get to feel the oneness of carrying and growing my child for 9 months.
And it was really, really hard leaving that journey with an empty womb and empty arms.
But then I got to a place where a lightness came over me. It’s a little hard to explain, but infertility treatment was all consuming. I had near daily appointments, I took shots and medications multiple times a day, I over analyzed every single twinge to try to figure out if it was a pregnancy symptom. And then- all that was over. In a way, it was nice having a definite answer that NO we would never get pregnant. I didn’t have to wait and guess and keep trying. I could just be.
Obviously there was still a lot to grieve and process through and heal from, but that lightness felt almost immediate. I wasn’t chained anymore to my treatment timeline. I was free.
Until we stopped I didn’t realize how burdening trying was. It was a boulder crushing me little by little, getting heavier with every failed month, every next step and ultimately our two miscarriages.
And then- the boulder was gone. I could breathe- I didn’t have to face the constant failure and heartache. I think I knew subconsciously it would never work (although consciously I had NO clue) so it felt like running in circles for no reason. What’s that quote? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results… Yeah, it’s about like that.
So friend, if you’re nearing the place were being done is imminent, I urge you not to fear. Yes it’s painful. But it’s also freeing. And for me it cleared my head enough to think about a different option. Adoption was not our Plan B and it was CLEARLY not God’s Plan B. But it took going through infertility treatment to get me there. And there? My dreams finally came true. Praying that you feel peace in however your infertility resolves.