When Swimming Gets Too Tough

I'm currently doing a delicate dance--one full of complicated steps and twists and balance and poise. I'm dancing because my world is spinning. And if I don't just twirl along with it, who knows what will happen? I may stumble or fall or worse. There will DEFINITELY be tears. Dory from Finding Nemo says, "Just keep swimming," and that's what I'm doing. That's all I can do, some days. And when swimming gets too tough? I lie on my back and float. What else can you do?

This month was full of promise. It was supposed to be different. I had THREE eggs, mature and ready for fertilization. Maybe they did get fertilized? Maybe then something went wrong. Or maybe it just didn't work the same way it just hasn't worked for the past 2 1/2 years. Who knows? Without more thorough testing, my knowledge is limited and leaves much to be desired. The constant letdown is getting to me. This dance is becoming exhausting, tiresome. You can only sustain the facade of optimism for so long before the great shift happens and you feel too jaded to even hope. And losing hope is dangerous when that's all you have.

I have a feeling that the path of infertility has been mine, set in the pre-existence since before I was given this body. I think I sacrificed the countless babies I long to have because I wanted to help others with their own journeys. Like maybe I knew that they needed those little angels more than I did. I long for the day when it'll all make sense. I hope when I die that I'll have an opportunity to remember what this was all about. Because these empty arms and this aching heart just don't get it this month. I hope that when I can see the big picture, at the end of my story, I understand the point behind these years of trials. I really hope this story makes sense from the end.

I'm sorry to disappoint my family and friends, but this girl needs a break. The constant monitoring and worrying and documenting has to stop. I can't keep living this crazily obsessive way. I can't let my desire to become a mother consume my life any more than it already has. I can't maintain this intense obsession. I have no current way of achieving my goal of becoming pregnant, and I'm growing so weary from this long and intricate dance. I'm going to crash if I try to keep this up. I just can't do it right now.

I'll come back to this in a month or two. Instead of bookmarking this chapter, I may start it over completely. I need to get my body and mind healthier in the meantime. I've irrationally put myself on bed rest for the past nine months, hoping that if I didn't move around too much, a baby would stick. As a result, I've gained about 15 pounds and become more depressed than ever. My marriage has suffered. I haven't handled things well. And I think it's time to go back and repair the fragile foundation that is my marriage and my life. Because in the midst of things, my life and love have been neglected, and without repair now, they'll fall apart completely. I hope that makes sense from the outside. It's become glaringly apparent to me recently, and I can ignore it no longer.

Friends, family, I love you. This has been a difficult decision for us at this time, but it's one that I hope you'll respect. And please, for the love of Pete, don't tell me I'll get pregnant now because I've stopped trying. Don't bring it up, actually. I'd rather not talk about my grief right now. Instead, let's focus on Josh's promotion in the Army (that's right, I've got myself a STAFF SERGEANT now!), or let's talk about my path to becoming healthier (I'm planning on losing 30-40 pounds in the next few months). Let's discuss my new job (that I start in one short week) or my callings at church (I hold three!). I am so much more than the face of unexplained infertility. I am not destined to become a vessel of life right now, and that's okay. I'm at peace with that for the moment. Don't make me feel guilty about that. We'll come back to this issue when we're rested and we've got more resources. This is not a retreat--this is merely reinforcing our troops. We want to win this war against infertility, and we have to be facing it with a united front, as a team, and we can't do that if we aren't feeling the love.

I feel like the spinning is slowing down and under control now. This tricky dance will one day be mastered. In the meantime, I'm going to give myself a rest day so that I'll be stronger and more powerful than ever before.