Earlier, hubby and I took the dogs (we have Mum's dog staying at the moment, hence the plural) for a walk. We kept intersecting paths with this same couple out walking with their primary-aged kids. One of the little girls called, "Mummy!", and ran to catch her mother up.
Watching this family, I thought, "This is so normal to them. They're just walking about and this is everyday life. Having children is as normal for them as having a dog is for us."
And when the little girl called 'Mummy', I thought, "Will that ever be me? Will I be 'Mummy' one day?"
This is such a strange time. We have so much to be happy and thankful for, and I am noticing that every day at the moment; much more than I normally do. I feel lucky. Everybody has things that aren't as they'd plan them in their lives. So I wouldn't plan to be infertile. I'm still an incredibly lucky person. I met, fell in love with, and married the love of my life; all in my early 20s. That's pretty darn lucky. I'm part of an exciting, exciting church; and I follow an exciting, exciting Jesus. I had some inheritance, so we were able to buy a house. We didn't even have to scrimp and save to do so, the money was just there. And I have the cutest little dog in the world.
I am so thankful for the basic things, the things I take for granted: I'm white, I'm educated, I'm middle class, I was born in England, our healthcare is paid for. I worry that we can't conceive - not that I will be raped, catch AIDS, die in childbirth, or that my child won't have enough to eat. We have more than enough food every day, and that's something I take for granted. We have clean water on tap. We have enough money to live comfortably. I am free to marry the man I choose, and I am free to be a Christian. I have opportunities, and I have options. My life is very much my own.
The world is a beautiful, beautiful place for me. I am lucky enough to enjoy it, and, as I said, I feel lucky at the moment. Really, truly, incredibly lucky and blessed.
But at the same time, there's this sadness. I have everything I need. But I can't do everything I am biologically intended to and designed for. I love my husband, I love children, but I can't give him a child.
I'll get over it, if I have to. I feel sure of that at the moment. If it's not to be for us, it won't kill me. So I don't feel panicky, desperate, or engulfed - as I did earlier in the year, and in the years immediately after learning about the translocation.
BUT. But. I feel sad. I'm grateful for the things I have, I recognise that they vastly outnumber and outweigh the things that I do not have, and I mourn the things I do not have. Sometimes, I mourn the loss of my teens and early adulthood; the years I spent battling with my mental health. I'm grateful things are better now. But I mourn the loss of life I had during those years and the impact that has on my life. And I mourn the babies. Oh, I mourn the babies.
Whether we are able to have a family or not, our lives will never be the same; will never be unaffected by my infertility. And so I accept it; I talk about it; I even embrace it as part of me. It wasn't chosen... And yet, it is welcome. You see, had I not had the mental health battles, I would not be the person I am now: maybe not have met my husband, not have questioned my conditions of worth, not have faith. I'm very glad to have those things.
And so, this unchosen passenger is welcome, here, with me.
Happy-sad.
Sunday, 7 October 2012
Dreams and Prophecy
I love dreams; recording them, remembering them, interpreting them.
Every so often, I will have a really vivid dream that will have a huge impact on my life. Throughout my teens and while I was at university, I had a recurring dream about going into labour. In this dream, I wouldn't know I was pregnant until shortly before going into labour. Aside from the world ending, labour was my biggest fear when I was younger (funny how life turns out!), so this dream was really a nightmare. I would go into labour, but never have the baby.
My first counsellor thought this dream was about putting a lot of effort into something but not getting anything out. This made a lot of sense to me, as I would get it when I was particularly stressed about academic work. Generally in my life when I was younger, I would put a lot of effort into things but not see results, because I would get so stressed out that I'd stop functioning.
I had the same dream summer 2011 (I haven't had it since, and hadn't had it in a few years), but in the dream I had the baby. The feeling from the dream was one of immense relief. I took that as reassurance that it was indeed time to go back to studying. And studying did go so much better than at any time in my life before - my grades were so much better, and I found it easy generally to actually finish assignments.
But then, in the spring, I started to get the same feeling - stressing out too much to actually get any work done, and I realised I based so much of how I saw myself on being able to finish my degree and on the grades I got. And it was like a prison.
And then of course in August the Lord spoke to me about letting go of it. And doing so has brought so much joy and freedom into my life.
I don't think I was wrong about the dream last summer. I think it was time to go back - I was ready to learn the lesson I needed to.
But the subject matter of the dream - the struggle to give birth to a baby - seems basically prophetic about the real struggle of my early adulthood. And it seems, looking back, that while I associated the dream with academic struggle, really the dream is telling me to focus on something else, and what my journey would be.
Last night hubby and I both dreamt of babies being born. My husband is dreaming fairly often about babies at the moment. These dreams, last night, are the first dreams I can think of in which names have been given to babies, and in which that has been the focus of the dream. For both of us to dream of baby names at the same time seems really significant!
He dreamt we had a baby boy and called it 'Rex'. Apparently it was born red and I said it looked like my little brother when born (he was also born red - cooked too long!). 'Rex' means 'King', which is so reassuring: reminding me that the Lord is the Lord of birth, and that He is king over this whole area of our life.
I dreamt that one of my bridesmaids (who got engaged this year) and her other half had a baby boy and called him 'Graeme'. In the dream I was jealous that she was the first of our uni house (she and I lived with another girl) to have a baby, but it was also what I expected, as she has been with her OH so long and is such a down-to-earth and homely person. Our other uni housemate and I went to see the baby, we were both on our way somewhere. And I talked to her about her labour, which was three days (but she carried on as normal for all but the last day - dream world is great!), and for pain relief she had a shot of pethidine. I can't think why that labour stuff is significant, but it was there in the dream so I thought I best write it down.
I googled 'Graeme', and apparently it means 'gravel' or 'grey homestead'.
'Grey' has been a bit of a theme for me this week; I already looked it up in my dream book ('Keys to Unlock Your Dreams', Barbara Claassen) for a picture I had at small group last Wednesday: it means 'confusion', 'uncertainty', 'vague', 'hidden'. And I'm thinking this dream is about confusion in all kinds of areas of my life: will I have a job and/or a baby; and where are we going to live, and when? I'm also confused about prophecy: I'm not sure where the various pictures and words around IVF and babies we have had through our journey are going to take us, and I'm not sure whether I can trust my ability to hear God, and deep down I am not sure whether I can trust God, and I feel that is really being put to the test through this trial.
I looked up 'gravel', and it has a positive and a negative meaning:
In the book, there is also a verse alongside 'gravel'; Luke 3:16:
My dream speaks to me about this being a really confusing time - for our home, for our family - and also about the choice I have to make within that confusion. It reminds me that I don't have to worry; Jesus is 'more powerful than I': I am not fit to untie his shoelaces. It speaks of the importance of this time, it's testing and refining nature, and the 'strong foundation' it will lay in my life. I had a dream about a gravelly path earlier this year; that was about not doing things in my own strength; and this dream seems to link in with that.
My hubby's dream also reminds us that we don't have to worry: this may be a time of confusion, but it will pass, because He is King of all, and of this really intimate moment in our lives. It speaks also of Jesus's power and kingship over the situation. All will come good.
Every so often, I will have a really vivid dream that will have a huge impact on my life. Throughout my teens and while I was at university, I had a recurring dream about going into labour. In this dream, I wouldn't know I was pregnant until shortly before going into labour. Aside from the world ending, labour was my biggest fear when I was younger (funny how life turns out!), so this dream was really a nightmare. I would go into labour, but never have the baby.
My first counsellor thought this dream was about putting a lot of effort into something but not getting anything out. This made a lot of sense to me, as I would get it when I was particularly stressed about academic work. Generally in my life when I was younger, I would put a lot of effort into things but not see results, because I would get so stressed out that I'd stop functioning.
I had the same dream summer 2011 (I haven't had it since, and hadn't had it in a few years), but in the dream I had the baby. The feeling from the dream was one of immense relief. I took that as reassurance that it was indeed time to go back to studying. And studying did go so much better than at any time in my life before - my grades were so much better, and I found it easy generally to actually finish assignments.
But then, in the spring, I started to get the same feeling - stressing out too much to actually get any work done, and I realised I based so much of how I saw myself on being able to finish my degree and on the grades I got. And it was like a prison.
And then of course in August the Lord spoke to me about letting go of it. And doing so has brought so much joy and freedom into my life.
I don't think I was wrong about the dream last summer. I think it was time to go back - I was ready to learn the lesson I needed to.
But the subject matter of the dream - the struggle to give birth to a baby - seems basically prophetic about the real struggle of my early adulthood. And it seems, looking back, that while I associated the dream with academic struggle, really the dream is telling me to focus on something else, and what my journey would be.
Last night hubby and I both dreamt of babies being born. My husband is dreaming fairly often about babies at the moment. These dreams, last night, are the first dreams I can think of in which names have been given to babies, and in which that has been the focus of the dream. For both of us to dream of baby names at the same time seems really significant!
He dreamt we had a baby boy and called it 'Rex'. Apparently it was born red and I said it looked like my little brother when born (he was also born red - cooked too long!). 'Rex' means 'King', which is so reassuring: reminding me that the Lord is the Lord of birth, and that He is king over this whole area of our life.
I dreamt that one of my bridesmaids (who got engaged this year) and her other half had a baby boy and called him 'Graeme'. In the dream I was jealous that she was the first of our uni house (she and I lived with another girl) to have a baby, but it was also what I expected, as she has been with her OH so long and is such a down-to-earth and homely person. Our other uni housemate and I went to see the baby, we were both on our way somewhere. And I talked to her about her labour, which was three days (but she carried on as normal for all but the last day - dream world is great!), and for pain relief she had a shot of pethidine. I can't think why that labour stuff is significant, but it was there in the dream so I thought I best write it down.
I googled 'Graeme', and apparently it means 'gravel' or 'grey homestead'.
'Grey' has been a bit of a theme for me this week; I already looked it up in my dream book ('Keys to Unlock Your Dreams', Barbara Claassen) for a picture I had at small group last Wednesday: it means 'confusion', 'uncertainty', 'vague', 'hidden'. And I'm thinking this dream is about confusion in all kinds of areas of my life: will I have a job and/or a baby; and where are we going to live, and when? I'm also confused about prophecy: I'm not sure where the various pictures and words around IVF and babies we have had through our journey are going to take us, and I'm not sure whether I can trust my ability to hear God, and deep down I am not sure whether I can trust God, and I feel that is really being put to the test through this trial.
I looked up 'gravel', and it has a positive and a negative meaning:
Positive - to lay a strong foundation in a ministry or a person's life.This speaks to me about everything I have been feeling about this situation we are in of being infertile and choosing IVF: I can approach it with bitterness and without joy, or I can allow it to form a strong foundation in my life and try to joyfully accept the lessons the Lord teaches me through it.
Negative - bitterness, without joy; gravel is a symbol of something that is bitter or unpleasant. ('Keys to Unlock Your Dreams', Barbara Claassen.)
In the book, there is also a verse alongside 'gravel'; Luke 3:16:
John answered them all, “I baptize you with water. But one who is more powerful than I will come, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire."And that comforts me that the Holy Spirit is working in me at the moment, and it also speaks to me of this 'trial by fire' we are in at the moment: fire burns off what is unnecessary, it refines. Sometimes things are really painful, but it is all Jesus.
My dream speaks to me about this being a really confusing time - for our home, for our family - and also about the choice I have to make within that confusion. It reminds me that I don't have to worry; Jesus is 'more powerful than I': I am not fit to untie his shoelaces. It speaks of the importance of this time, it's testing and refining nature, and the 'strong foundation' it will lay in my life. I had a dream about a gravelly path earlier this year; that was about not doing things in my own strength; and this dream seems to link in with that.
My hubby's dream also reminds us that we don't have to worry: this may be a time of confusion, but it will pass, because He is King of all, and of this really intimate moment in our lives. It speaks also of Jesus's power and kingship over the situation. All will come good.
Friday, 5 October 2012
Six years ago I dreamed a dream
Nothing much to report, IVF-wise. We are in a lull at the moment, not taking any particular medications. I am loving it :). I'm finding it really easy to switch off and forget it's all happening - am loving 'savouring the moment' (a phrase my counsellor loves!) and taking the time to enjoy all that we have together. I feel really OK about IVF at the moment. I feel OK knowing that this may lead to a child or it may not. I feel OK knowing that things might happen that I do not understand. I feel able to trust God in the way that I used to, and am really enjoying being in a good place with Him. I feel close to Him again, and that is the most important thing for me. Feeling distant from Him over the summer was like losing a limb, all felt so wrong with the world.
The feeling of hope I wrote about last week hasn't left. I've really enjoyed it's presence; it's like a curtain has been lifted, and I can see through to all the stuff beyond, which is all sparkly and lovely. I am standing in the open doorway to a jewellers, and everything inside is already mine. The future seems really exciting, and I'm not thinking anywhere near as much as usual about whether we will have children or not. I am thinking about it, in relation to IVF and the fact that we are about to undergo our first cycle, but I've stopped obsessing all the time about whether I am going to be 'picked' to have children. It no longer feels like waiting to see if I've made the team. I've already made the team. I've already got the good stuff.
It's almost exactly six years at the moment since this whole journey began. That's important to me. Six years ago, I was sick, wondering if I had a brain tumour or MS, and wondering what my life was going to look like. I was so scared. I didn't know God, and I didn't feel loved. I read a book called 'The Time Traveller's Wife'; I stayed up all night to finish it; and God planted the desire in my heart to bear a child. I didn't know Him then, but that sweet and precious moment was as magnificently Him as anything since.
I didn't not want to have children because I don't like children, or didn't yearn to be a parent. I didn't not want children primarily because I was afraid of labour, or because I was worried about the genetic condition I knew I carried, although these both played a part. I didn't want to create children because I was brought up to believe that the world is coming to an end, well within my lifetime, and I was very angry that my parents, believing this, had chosen to have my brothers and me. When I looked at my half-brother, who's ten years younger, I didn't understand how anyone could choose to create something so innocent knowing what they did about our world. At this time I believed the things my father taught absolutely.
I always wanted to parent. I guess that started when my half-brother came along - I had no idea the depth of love I could feel. He is and always has been so special to me, and to all our family. So I had this deep desire to parent, combined with a sense of anger about the world (and the choices my parents had made) and a passion for social justice, and I decided I would adopt. That way I wouldn't be responsible for bringing the life into this broken world. I was actually terrified of falling pregnant and going into labour long before I was sexually active. My whole life was a mess of fear.
And so, when God planted that dream in my head, it said so much more than 'Seek to bear a child'. It said, 'It's ok to dream', and specifically, 'It's ok for you to dream'. It said, 'You don't have to punish yourself for the sins of the world'. It said, 'You have a hope and a future' (because, ultimately, my choice not to have children came out of a belief that there was no future for me at all). It said, 'Walk with me'.
When I had this special moment with God about bearing my own child - during which I saw a vision of a little boy, toddler age - I was still completely uneducated about the condition I carry. I didn't even know it's name! And so, as a result of this hope and vision, I asked to be referred for genetic counselling.
Eight months after that moment with God, I found out that the odds of me having an affected pregnancy were 1/2, and my world fell apart. That tentative hope I had been offered had been snatched away, and it was worse - much, much worse - than not having it at all. Everything changed, and everything grew much darker. I lost hope.
Over the years since that initial moment with God six years ago, I have tried to walk away and give up hope so many times. Each time, I have been offered a morsel; an offer so supernatural I remember God, and remember that this is not in my hands. He has spoken to us (and particularly to me alone - which is important to me, as I was the one to doubt the procedure) so clearly, and in so many ways, about doing IVF PGD that I have to trust and keep walking. Maybe we will have a child, and maybe we won't. But either way, I know that the only hope I have ever been offered is in the Lord. For the girl who had no hope, making that decision is a no-brainer. I go where He takes me, and I trust in His ways. Who am I to think I would have no life without children, or no hope without children? He gave me hope from dust and ashes before!
When I think back over the journey I've been on these long six years, I am reminded of how little hope rests in our physical circumstances. Six years ago, the world was just opening up for me, and yet I had never known hope. It took a miracle for me to taste hope - a drastic intervention by Jesus in my life. My physical circumstances may change with time, but nothing can take away that hope Jesus gave me. He will always be.
The feeling of hope I wrote about last week hasn't left. I've really enjoyed it's presence; it's like a curtain has been lifted, and I can see through to all the stuff beyond, which is all sparkly and lovely. I am standing in the open doorway to a jewellers, and everything inside is already mine. The future seems really exciting, and I'm not thinking anywhere near as much as usual about whether we will have children or not. I am thinking about it, in relation to IVF and the fact that we are about to undergo our first cycle, but I've stopped obsessing all the time about whether I am going to be 'picked' to have children. It no longer feels like waiting to see if I've made the team. I've already made the team. I've already got the good stuff.
It's almost exactly six years at the moment since this whole journey began. That's important to me. Six years ago, I was sick, wondering if I had a brain tumour or MS, and wondering what my life was going to look like. I was so scared. I didn't know God, and I didn't feel loved. I read a book called 'The Time Traveller's Wife'; I stayed up all night to finish it; and God planted the desire in my heart to bear a child. I didn't know Him then, but that sweet and precious moment was as magnificently Him as anything since.
I didn't not want to have children because I don't like children, or didn't yearn to be a parent. I didn't not want children primarily because I was afraid of labour, or because I was worried about the genetic condition I knew I carried, although these both played a part. I didn't want to create children because I was brought up to believe that the world is coming to an end, well within my lifetime, and I was very angry that my parents, believing this, had chosen to have my brothers and me. When I looked at my half-brother, who's ten years younger, I didn't understand how anyone could choose to create something so innocent knowing what they did about our world. At this time I believed the things my father taught absolutely.
I always wanted to parent. I guess that started when my half-brother came along - I had no idea the depth of love I could feel. He is and always has been so special to me, and to all our family. So I had this deep desire to parent, combined with a sense of anger about the world (and the choices my parents had made) and a passion for social justice, and I decided I would adopt. That way I wouldn't be responsible for bringing the life into this broken world. I was actually terrified of falling pregnant and going into labour long before I was sexually active. My whole life was a mess of fear.
And so, when God planted that dream in my head, it said so much more than 'Seek to bear a child'. It said, 'It's ok to dream', and specifically, 'It's ok for you to dream'. It said, 'You don't have to punish yourself for the sins of the world'. It said, 'You have a hope and a future' (because, ultimately, my choice not to have children came out of a belief that there was no future for me at all). It said, 'Walk with me'.
When I had this special moment with God about bearing my own child - during which I saw a vision of a little boy, toddler age - I was still completely uneducated about the condition I carry. I didn't even know it's name! And so, as a result of this hope and vision, I asked to be referred for genetic counselling.
Eight months after that moment with God, I found out that the odds of me having an affected pregnancy were 1/2, and my world fell apart. That tentative hope I had been offered had been snatched away, and it was worse - much, much worse - than not having it at all. Everything changed, and everything grew much darker. I lost hope.
Over the years since that initial moment with God six years ago, I have tried to walk away and give up hope so many times. Each time, I have been offered a morsel; an offer so supernatural I remember God, and remember that this is not in my hands. He has spoken to us (and particularly to me alone - which is important to me, as I was the one to doubt the procedure) so clearly, and in so many ways, about doing IVF PGD that I have to trust and keep walking. Maybe we will have a child, and maybe we won't. But either way, I know that the only hope I have ever been offered is in the Lord. For the girl who had no hope, making that decision is a no-brainer. I go where He takes me, and I trust in His ways. Who am I to think I would have no life without children, or no hope without children? He gave me hope from dust and ashes before!
When I think back over the journey I've been on these long six years, I am reminded of how little hope rests in our physical circumstances. Six years ago, the world was just opening up for me, and yet I had never known hope. It took a miracle for me to taste hope - a drastic intervention by Jesus in my life. My physical circumstances may change with time, but nothing can take away that hope Jesus gave me. He will always be.
Tuesday, 25 September 2012
Hopelessness Scorned
IVF Progress
So last time I wrote was four days ago, and I was waiting for AF to arrive... Well, the very next morning, she showed up (three days after last Pill)! This was such a relief - I have had problems with not getting a withdrawal bleed at all on the Pill before. I am probably the only person who is really happy to get a period every and any time it arrives - I feel like a real woman, lol! At the moment I am even happier than usual to see it, as it means our cycle is going as hoped.
So on day 1 of AF I phoned the clinic as requested, and am now drug free until 09/10 (day 18 of this cycle) when I start Norethisterone, for at least 10 days. On 18/10 (day 10 of N'one) we have been booked in for our injection tutorial.
All this means I have some idea in my mind when everything major is likely to happen, and we can begin to plan around this a little bit. I worked out likely dates on the calendar, and realised - this time in TWO MONTHS we will be completely, 100% done with cycle 1!!! Not very long at all!
I am so nervous about it all, but also very ready to get on with life, and see what is going to happen already :). Life is a bit on hold at the moment and I am excited that we are moving forward.
Hopelessness to Hope
So today I went to meet up with a lady who is I guess what you might call a spiritual mentor to me. She has helped me a lot over the past year; really encouraged me in my walk with Jesus. I have only met her a handful of times, yet my life has been completely transformed in many ways by knowing her - the ways I talk to and listen to God have broadened, my confidence in my ability to hear from God has grown exponentially, and I recognise gifts in myself I would never have recognised alone.
It was very encouraging to meet up with her today. I haven't seen her for maybe six months, and a lot has been going on for me, emotionally, spiritually, and physically, during this time, and it was really good to catch her up on what has been going on and hear her feedback that she thinks I have been fighting well and growing... As when times are dark and confusing I find it hard to discern whether things are going 'well' or not. The past few months I have felt mainly like I am stabbing in the dark every day, hoping I am pleasing God and that all will turn out 'all right', but everything has felt like such a muddle.
So last time I wrote was four days ago, and I was waiting for AF to arrive... Well, the very next morning, she showed up (three days after last Pill)! This was such a relief - I have had problems with not getting a withdrawal bleed at all on the Pill before. I am probably the only person who is really happy to get a period every and any time it arrives - I feel like a real woman, lol! At the moment I am even happier than usual to see it, as it means our cycle is going as hoped.
So on day 1 of AF I phoned the clinic as requested, and am now drug free until 09/10 (day 18 of this cycle) when I start Norethisterone, for at least 10 days. On 18/10 (day 10 of N'one) we have been booked in for our injection tutorial.
All this means I have some idea in my mind when everything major is likely to happen, and we can begin to plan around this a little bit. I worked out likely dates on the calendar, and realised - this time in TWO MONTHS we will be completely, 100% done with cycle 1!!! Not very long at all!
I am so nervous about it all, but also very ready to get on with life, and see what is going to happen already :). Life is a bit on hold at the moment and I am excited that we are moving forward.
Hopelessness to Hope
So today I went to meet up with a lady who is I guess what you might call a spiritual mentor to me. She has helped me a lot over the past year; really encouraged me in my walk with Jesus. I have only met her a handful of times, yet my life has been completely transformed in many ways by knowing her - the ways I talk to and listen to God have broadened, my confidence in my ability to hear from God has grown exponentially, and I recognise gifts in myself I would never have recognised alone.
It was very encouraging to meet up with her today. I haven't seen her for maybe six months, and a lot has been going on for me, emotionally, spiritually, and physically, during this time, and it was really good to catch her up on what has been going on and hear her feedback that she thinks I have been fighting well and growing... As when times are dark and confusing I find it hard to discern whether things are going 'well' or not. The past few months I have felt mainly like I am stabbing in the dark every day, hoping I am pleasing God and that all will turn out 'all right', but everything has felt like such a muddle.
MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
The Merton Prayer
I hope I will look back on this period in a few months or years and understand what it was building up to and how I grew and changed in anticipation of that during this time. But often at the moment, things God is asking me to do - stop studying, re-start weekly counselling, delaying IVF for iron levels - feel like stepping backwards. I know that I can't be stepping backward whilst I am walking forwards... But still, the things I anticipated happening this year haven't happened. We can't afford to move at the moment - although we hoped to be putting the house on the market before Christmas. We can't afford to go to New Zealand to visit our friends. I hope we will get to do these things in the future, and that God has the perfect time planned out.
Bearing in mind all these things I perceive to be setbacks, it was really refreshing and encouraging to hear from this lady that she sees such definite growth, and also that she thinks I have been hearing from God really clearly. It is hard to be in the middle of a period of such fighting and confusion, but as long as I am doing what God is asking of me, I trust that all will come good in the end.
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
Romans 8:28
R finished by praying for me, especially during IVF, and she prayed for 'hope'... And when she did, I had this revelation that what afflicts me is a spirit of hopelessness. During the period between God's revelation to me that Pete and I would marry (two years before we did and a year before our engagement) I struggled so much with hopelessness. Once we were married, it was the most wonderful, blessed relief... But now, as we have been building up to IVF, it has come back, and I literally cannot - physically, spiritually, emotionally - believe anything good is going to happen to me... And in this instant, God showed me this is because I actually cannot hope or believe, because of this spirit of hopelessness.
So I am planning to have some chats with God about this over the next few days, and see what He tells me to do about it. I'm excited that He revealed this, because I know it must be because He wants me to tackle it... And things will change :).
But those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40:31
Friday, 21 September 2012
Sometimes I Ramble About All the Beautiful Things Happening
IVF Progress
I took my last Microgynon pill on Wednesday... Now Friday night, and anxiously waiting for a bleed to arrive. Pretty please!
Giving Up Studying
I am overall feeling much calmer, happier, more content, and closer to God at the moment than I have been for most of this year... What He said to me about quitting studying really was right - in August, He told me to stop studying and that it would be the key to my mental health, and it really has been. Also, giving something up for Him - because He asked me to, and only because of that, and something that means so much and is so close to my heart - has really helped my faith. It has been really hard to do; really, really painful... And things are better for having done it... Which reminds me that I really can give up anything for Him - and so I have stopped the constant worrying about what will happen to my faith if IVF doesn't work out for us. I know I can give things up for God. I know I could do it. And I know I would survive.
It's also really helped to remind me just how real He is. How interested and involved in my life. And how much He really does love and care about me. Things I had been doubting before for the first time since I became a Christian.
Small Group and Counselling
As part of our church, we belong to something called a 'small group' (which is sometimes called a 'cluster', 'cell', or 'home' group in other churches). Our small group started in January, out of an alpha course hubby and I attended, and it met every two weeks. I then didn't go to our small group for a few months as my mental health went downhill in late spring. I felt at a low ebb with church. Lots of other things are happening personally for us at the moment - we want to move closer to church, and can't afford to; my degree didn't work out as planned; my mental health had a blip - and I wondered how I can trust that this is the right place for us to be, and whether it will work out.
In August, there was a month's break from small group, and towards the end we all met up for a picnic. It was the first time I had been with the group for a few months, and I hadn't been going to church regularly either. At the picnic, I met a friend's mum, who just happened to work at one of the IVF clinics in Nottingham (the other one to the one we are using; we are using Care and she worked at Nurture, which doesn't provide a PGD service). She was able to advise and reassure us about IVF, and I was reminded about God's perfect timing and attention to the most intricate of details; something I had taken for granted previously. Having doubted that for months, feeling unsure as to whether I would ever feel it again as I had, I was reassured and reminded that I don't have all the answers, or even any of the answers, but that that is really ok... And that while I don't have the answers about the future, this church and this group really are the place for us to be at the moment. And 'at the moment' is all that matters - tomorrow will take care of itself (Matthew 6:34).
Small group started up again last week, and is now meeting weekly instead of fortnightly. This is already proving so helpful. I am amazed and humbled that God would provide this extra care for me - for us - during this testing time.
Also in August, after God spoke to me about giving up studying, I asked my counsellor whether we could see each other weekly instead of fortnightly for the foreseeable, and she was 'delighted' to. That's been happening about a month now, and again it is something I can already see and feel the benefits of. My counsellor is a Christian and the support she has given me over the past eighteen months has been something I can't put into words. She made my world alive again - I stopped just hanging on, trying to exist, and started to experience things I thought had died.
The reason I cut down from weekly to fortnightly initially was because I was worried about how much of a loss I would feel if and when we move, and I can no longer see her. Again, God has reminded me that I need to do what is right for now, and not right for tomorrow. I so easily fall into 'anxiety planning' - planning for disasters and trials that may (or may not) come, trying to keep myself safe. I rely on my own planning and my own safekeeping, and not on God's ability to keep me safe. With both church and counselling, I am being reminded of how much better He provides for me than I do, and being reminded of this just before IVF is such a blessing.
One Day At A Time
And so, on that note, at the moment what I am doing is reminding myself as often as I remember to 'take one day at a time', and focus only on the circumstances of that moment. The grace for tomorrow will be there when I need it. He can be trusted to hold me, and that is something I believe physically and spiritually as well as emotionally at the moment. I know He can be trusted, because He's held me through everything this year. Anything that comes my way, I can survive with Him.
'Follow the Peace'
I read a quote earlier - 'Follow the Peace' - and it reminded me how making the 'right' decisions feels, and how I will know how to do the right thing when the time comes again.
Follow the peace.
Peace - To stop studying.
Peace - To marry my husband (decided a year before he asked!).
Peace - When we decided to go to our church (18 months ago now!), even though it is in another town.
Peace - When God showed me (quite bluntly!) this time last year that my worries about IVF were selfish, and I had to take my husband's needs and desires into account. Peace, since that moment, about the whole 'is IVF right?' dilemma.
Peace - When we bought our house, three years ago now... Even though we had only known each other six months, weren't engaged or married, and I was mid-breakdown! Yes, it was mad... And yes, it was God!
Peace - When I relinquished my need for my husband to 'become a Christian' to God. (And of course now he is - but in God's time, not my time!)
His ways are not our ways. We don't often have a clue, in my experience, what the 'right' thing to do in a situation is. Often it is the riskiest thing to do. It may not seem risky to others, or it may seem downright foolish - either way, to us, it feels the riskiest.
Each and every time HIS PEACE (and not my crippled personality - which has also led me to do risky things, which have never, ever felt peaceful) has led me to do something risky, it has had ramifications I could not have predicted.
Right after we changed churches, and right before our wedding, our previous vicar's marriage broke down. I don't want to cast stones at him - am very fond of him - but for me, coming from a broken family, that could have been disastrous. We still got married at that church, by him, and it was awesome. But I needed to have the example of other mature Christian leadership marriages, provided at our then-new church, to encourage me in all the things I struggled with pre-wedding. When that marriage broke down, I knew why we had changed churches then. God's timing.
And now, right after I decide to walk away from studying, I hear that the final surviving first marriage in my parents' generation has broken down. My parents and all of their brothers and sisters have all been married. And now, all have walked away from marriages. For me, it is a timely reminder of why doing things God's way and not my way is so important - and especially why challenging the values I have grown up with is not of self-indulgent importance (as I try to tell myself sometimes), but of life-changing, life-altering, life-saving vitality. When I make decisions for God and deny those things I have been taught about life and self-worth, I make decisions for my husband's well-being, for the well-being of any children we might have, for the well-being of my nieces, and for the well-being of society and the world at large.
God matters. Divorce matters. Love matters.
Walking away from my desire to have a degree - something I have believed I 'need' and could not be whole without - matters. He teaches me how to be whole. Not anything else. Not any other single thing: and that includes whether I raise a child or not. I only need God - and I do not need anything else - to be whole. It's been tough to learn, and infinitely worth learning - and I am sure the same will be true the next twenty times I learn it ;).
Staycation
On the theme of following the peace and love mattering, hubby and I have enjoyed a 'staycation' this week... Spending quality time together, visiting spots of the country near us that we wouldn't otherwise have troubled ourselves to enjoy, and enjoying our life as it is, without wanting to change a thing. It really reminds me, again, that I will be ok - and that we will be ok - however things work out.
Sometimes things are hard. Sometimes things seem like they will not be ok, and there is no way things will ever be ok again. Hang in there. Things are ok again. Things are beautiful again. He makes a way. He makes a way in the desert.
I took my last Microgynon pill on Wednesday... Now Friday night, and anxiously waiting for a bleed to arrive. Pretty please!
Giving Up Studying
I am overall feeling much calmer, happier, more content, and closer to God at the moment than I have been for most of this year... What He said to me about quitting studying really was right - in August, He told me to stop studying and that it would be the key to my mental health, and it really has been. Also, giving something up for Him - because He asked me to, and only because of that, and something that means so much and is so close to my heart - has really helped my faith. It has been really hard to do; really, really painful... And things are better for having done it... Which reminds me that I really can give up anything for Him - and so I have stopped the constant worrying about what will happen to my faith if IVF doesn't work out for us. I know I can give things up for God. I know I could do it. And I know I would survive.
It's also really helped to remind me just how real He is. How interested and involved in my life. And how much He really does love and care about me. Things I had been doubting before for the first time since I became a Christian.
Small Group and Counselling
As part of our church, we belong to something called a 'small group' (which is sometimes called a 'cluster', 'cell', or 'home' group in other churches). Our small group started in January, out of an alpha course hubby and I attended, and it met every two weeks. I then didn't go to our small group for a few months as my mental health went downhill in late spring. I felt at a low ebb with church. Lots of other things are happening personally for us at the moment - we want to move closer to church, and can't afford to; my degree didn't work out as planned; my mental health had a blip - and I wondered how I can trust that this is the right place for us to be, and whether it will work out.
In August, there was a month's break from small group, and towards the end we all met up for a picnic. It was the first time I had been with the group for a few months, and I hadn't been going to church regularly either. At the picnic, I met a friend's mum, who just happened to work at one of the IVF clinics in Nottingham (the other one to the one we are using; we are using Care and she worked at Nurture, which doesn't provide a PGD service). She was able to advise and reassure us about IVF, and I was reminded about God's perfect timing and attention to the most intricate of details; something I had taken for granted previously. Having doubted that for months, feeling unsure as to whether I would ever feel it again as I had, I was reassured and reminded that I don't have all the answers, or even any of the answers, but that that is really ok... And that while I don't have the answers about the future, this church and this group really are the place for us to be at the moment. And 'at the moment' is all that matters - tomorrow will take care of itself (Matthew 6:34).
Small group started up again last week, and is now meeting weekly instead of fortnightly. This is already proving so helpful. I am amazed and humbled that God would provide this extra care for me - for us - during this testing time.
Also in August, after God spoke to me about giving up studying, I asked my counsellor whether we could see each other weekly instead of fortnightly for the foreseeable, and she was 'delighted' to. That's been happening about a month now, and again it is something I can already see and feel the benefits of. My counsellor is a Christian and the support she has given me over the past eighteen months has been something I can't put into words. She made my world alive again - I stopped just hanging on, trying to exist, and started to experience things I thought had died.
The reason I cut down from weekly to fortnightly initially was because I was worried about how much of a loss I would feel if and when we move, and I can no longer see her. Again, God has reminded me that I need to do what is right for now, and not right for tomorrow. I so easily fall into 'anxiety planning' - planning for disasters and trials that may (or may not) come, trying to keep myself safe. I rely on my own planning and my own safekeeping, and not on God's ability to keep me safe. With both church and counselling, I am being reminded of how much better He provides for me than I do, and being reminded of this just before IVF is such a blessing.
One Day At A Time
And so, on that note, at the moment what I am doing is reminding myself as often as I remember to 'take one day at a time', and focus only on the circumstances of that moment. The grace for tomorrow will be there when I need it. He can be trusted to hold me, and that is something I believe physically and spiritually as well as emotionally at the moment. I know He can be trusted, because He's held me through everything this year. Anything that comes my way, I can survive with Him.
'Follow the Peace'
I read a quote earlier - 'Follow the Peace' - and it reminded me how making the 'right' decisions feels, and how I will know how to do the right thing when the time comes again.
Follow the peace.
Peace - To stop studying.
Peace - To marry my husband (decided a year before he asked!).
Peace - When we decided to go to our church (18 months ago now!), even though it is in another town.
Peace - When God showed me (quite bluntly!) this time last year that my worries about IVF were selfish, and I had to take my husband's needs and desires into account. Peace, since that moment, about the whole 'is IVF right?' dilemma.
Peace - When we bought our house, three years ago now... Even though we had only known each other six months, weren't engaged or married, and I was mid-breakdown! Yes, it was mad... And yes, it was God!
Peace - When I relinquished my need for my husband to 'become a Christian' to God. (And of course now he is - but in God's time, not my time!)
His ways are not our ways. We don't often have a clue, in my experience, what the 'right' thing to do in a situation is. Often it is the riskiest thing to do. It may not seem risky to others, or it may seem downright foolish - either way, to us, it feels the riskiest.
Each and every time HIS PEACE (and not my crippled personality - which has also led me to do risky things, which have never, ever felt peaceful) has led me to do something risky, it has had ramifications I could not have predicted.
Right after we changed churches, and right before our wedding, our previous vicar's marriage broke down. I don't want to cast stones at him - am very fond of him - but for me, coming from a broken family, that could have been disastrous. We still got married at that church, by him, and it was awesome. But I needed to have the example of other mature Christian leadership marriages, provided at our then-new church, to encourage me in all the things I struggled with pre-wedding. When that marriage broke down, I knew why we had changed churches then. God's timing.
And now, right after I decide to walk away from studying, I hear that the final surviving first marriage in my parents' generation has broken down. My parents and all of their brothers and sisters have all been married. And now, all have walked away from marriages. For me, it is a timely reminder of why doing things God's way and not my way is so important - and especially why challenging the values I have grown up with is not of self-indulgent importance (as I try to tell myself sometimes), but of life-changing, life-altering, life-saving vitality. When I make decisions for God and deny those things I have been taught about life and self-worth, I make decisions for my husband's well-being, for the well-being of any children we might have, for the well-being of my nieces, and for the well-being of society and the world at large.
God matters. Divorce matters. Love matters.
Walking away from my desire to have a degree - something I have believed I 'need' and could not be whole without - matters. He teaches me how to be whole. Not anything else. Not any other single thing: and that includes whether I raise a child or not. I only need God - and I do not need anything else - to be whole. It's been tough to learn, and infinitely worth learning - and I am sure the same will be true the next twenty times I learn it ;).
Staycation
On the theme of following the peace and love mattering, hubby and I have enjoyed a 'staycation' this week... Spending quality time together, visiting spots of the country near us that we wouldn't otherwise have troubled ourselves to enjoy, and enjoying our life as it is, without wanting to change a thing. It really reminds me, again, that I will be ok - and that we will be ok - however things work out.
Sometimes things are hard. Sometimes things seem like they will not be ok, and there is no way things will ever be ok again. Hang in there. Things are ok again. Things are beautiful again. He makes a way. He makes a way in the desert.
Monday, 10 September 2012
On why babies are also OK
So right after I posted last night, I realised I needed to write a follow-up post, because babies aren't only a source of pain for me; far from it.
When I read stories, such as this one, of hope and triumph over infertility - whether the couple has biological or adopted children - these stories bless me, give me hope, and a deep sense of joy for the family, even though I don't know them.
I have online friends in the infertility/genetic cyber worlds, and hearing of one of these friend's pregnancies gives a much greater sense of joy even than a pregnancy in the 'real' world, even one I am really happy about; because I have an idea of what that person might have experienced (only an idea, because my experiences are really different both to genetic friends and infertile friends), and all seems right with the world. A genetic friend announced a very early pregnancy last week and it is this that prompted me to write this post, because for her there was only excitement and pure joy. To be honest, being human about it, I think a lot of whether I am happy or jealous at a pregnancy announcement in these circles (as with any other circle) depends on how well I know and like the person.
But even 'normal' babies aren't always a source of pain. Our small group leader has a tiny baby boy and I have never felt sad holding him or being around her when she was pregnant. I don't know why that is. There are friends I am much closer to whose pregnancies and babies cause pain, so it's not that I especially know or feel close to this woman or her baby. I just don't feel sad around them.
By contrast - smallest niece, and hubby's best friends' youngest baby... Source of joy and pain intermingled. Maybe because I'm closer to them. Maybe because some of these couples' children were 'accidents', I don't know.
But again there is no rule, because 'accidents' aren't always upsetting. A friend fell pregnant with her now son in her first year of marriage by accident and I was only happy and excited for her. They live overseas so I've only got to spend time with him one time, over a few days, but once again he did not prove a source of pain at all - loved spending time with him (he was a baby then).
I don't know why for some women I can only be jealous, while others provoke a mixture of joy and sadness, and others again I am only happy for. But it has been the case. There seem to be no hard and fast rules in my fertility zone.
I heard today that the genetic friend has lost her baby, so I wondered about writing this, as obviously that sense of joy for her as gone, and I am left wondering why these things happen: she 'deserves' a happy pregnancy and another child so much. But there you go; these things do happen. Ours not to reason why, even though we try.
When I read stories, such as this one, of hope and triumph over infertility - whether the couple has biological or adopted children - these stories bless me, give me hope, and a deep sense of joy for the family, even though I don't know them.
I have online friends in the infertility/genetic cyber worlds, and hearing of one of these friend's pregnancies gives a much greater sense of joy even than a pregnancy in the 'real' world, even one I am really happy about; because I have an idea of what that person might have experienced (only an idea, because my experiences are really different both to genetic friends and infertile friends), and all seems right with the world. A genetic friend announced a very early pregnancy last week and it is this that prompted me to write this post, because for her there was only excitement and pure joy. To be honest, being human about it, I think a lot of whether I am happy or jealous at a pregnancy announcement in these circles (as with any other circle) depends on how well I know and like the person.
But even 'normal' babies aren't always a source of pain. Our small group leader has a tiny baby boy and I have never felt sad holding him or being around her when she was pregnant. I don't know why that is. There are friends I am much closer to whose pregnancies and babies cause pain, so it's not that I especially know or feel close to this woman or her baby. I just don't feel sad around them.
By contrast - smallest niece, and hubby's best friends' youngest baby... Source of joy and pain intermingled. Maybe because I'm closer to them. Maybe because some of these couples' children were 'accidents', I don't know.
But again there is no rule, because 'accidents' aren't always upsetting. A friend fell pregnant with her now son in her first year of marriage by accident and I was only happy and excited for her. They live overseas so I've only got to spend time with him one time, over a few days, but once again he did not prove a source of pain at all - loved spending time with him (he was a baby then).
I don't know why for some women I can only be jealous, while others provoke a mixture of joy and sadness, and others again I am only happy for. But it has been the case. There seem to be no hard and fast rules in my fertility zone.
I heard today that the genetic friend has lost her baby, so I wondered about writing this, as obviously that sense of joy for her as gone, and I am left wondering why these things happen: she 'deserves' a happy pregnancy and another child so much. But there you go; these things do happen. Ours not to reason why, even though we try.
Sunday, 9 September 2012
In which I don't believe this is going to work
I know this is just another bitter infertile woman moaning, but - another school friend has had a baby. Apparently his wife pushed it out in 6 hours with only gas and air. Of course she did. She is clearly the baby maker extraordinaire. And I am some kind of shrivelled wombless old steak.
Oh, and one of other 11,22 carriers is having her FOURTH baby!! Yes, that's right, fourth. (One has ES.)
The thing is, I'm not the same as 'infertile' women, because we haven't had the agonising years and years of charting and failing to fall pregnant.
And yet, I'm not the same as the other BT carriers, because I do have a fairly serious fertility issue, and if we tried naturally, I am 99.9% sure we would have the joy of the agonising years of charting and failing. I've had three periods since coming off the Pill in September 2011, and probably haven't ovulated. And, of course, if we eventually did fall - probably only with the aid of Clomid or similar - there would be a 50% chance it would miscarry, or have very serious health issues throughout it's life.
And so I'm even jealous of other carriers, because they have a lot more chances to have healthy babies than I do.
And jealous of other infertile women, because they can transfer all their embryos back, instead of just 10-20%, and they therefore get to a lot more FETs than us PGD-ers.
I have this feeling really deep inside at the moment that this isn't going to work... That we are doing this as a step towards realising adoption or fostering is what we have to do. I don't feel too negative about it; I just feel resigned, a bit sad, but also trusting in God and His provision - much better in that regard than I have been the past few months.
All the things against us just seem too much. There's a lady on Fertility Friends at our clinic, who is the only other person I've come across with such a high antral follicle count as mine, and her first two cycles haven't gone well (she's my age, as well). She hasn't produced enough good quality eggs - Care are so worried about her over-responding to the medication (developing OHSS) that she has in act under-responded. And what it seems to me, from other women with PCOS I have come across, is that a lot of our follicles develop but very few produce usable eggs, because too many are trying to produce eggs at once.
With PGD, we need a fair number of good quality eggs to give us a chance of a healthy embryo.
This doesn't mean we won't get an embryo, but it does mean the chances are against us more than some doing PGD.
I honestly don't mind how we have a child - I just want to parent and be a family. I'd love to adopt; I'd feel it was such an honour that we were being entrusted with such a vulnerable being. And I know my husband, and what a big, kind, and generous heart he has... And I know me: how I can welcome and love pretty much anyone into my life; how much patience I have with people, especially when they are struggling or disadvantaged; and I know my heart and how I could love and look after any child - biology really doesn't mean anything to me, and is not the reason I am doing PGD... I don't have that urge a lot of people have to have a child of my flesh and blood; I have an urge to parent and create a good life for a child, a person. I hope adoption is for us, it's something that is really deeply entrenched in my heart now, after all these years of thinking about it. But, in all honesty, I would like to live in a perfect world, and have both biological and adopted children. When I think of that dream, I have to remind myself that God knows what is best for me, and I do not. If I could run my life, I would make a total mess of it.
And so why try to have a biological child? At the moment, I'm not so sure. This - PGD - feels dangerous (emotionally and physically), and it is exhausting to think that we will likely have to do several cycles. I want to carry a baby, and I want to give birth, and I want to look after and nurse a newborn (oh! how much! it makes me choke up just thinking about it). But do I want to do those things enough to risk my health by going through this invasive and time-consuming procedure which has such a low chance of success?
However, I also know that we are not ready to adopt. Pete has rights as well as me, and this decision isn't mine alone. In fact, about a year ago, I very clearly heard God speak to me (it was precious and a very rare moment for me). I was stressing about whether PGD was 'right' or not, and God almost shook me by the shoulders: He reminded me that my husband has hopes, dreams and needs, that I am a family now I am married, and that PGD is something my husband wants to do. And since that moment I have not worried. When the doubts creep in, I don't let them interfere with the process - I am doing this for Pete, and because he has a right to hope and dream as well.
I also have previous mental health issues, and I had an unhappy childhood, so I am sure we will be screened and double screened prior to any potential adoption. And whether we would even be able to adopt - whether this is just some nice dream - is of major concern to me. Major, because I know how wrong it would be if we were refused, and what good adoptive parents we could make. And major because I've heard a lot about how hard the adoption screening process is, and how many people are turned down - and how much mental health problems can count against peoples' chances. Adoption definitely wouldn't be a done deal for us. And so, in order to move forward with the adoptive process, I would want to be in a really, really good position. I know we're not in that place now. It would be a process to get to that stage, and if that stage comes without a biological child coming first, it will mean mourning and giving up that dream.
All of this seems so long and drawn-out. I want to be a mother now; I feel ready now - to think it could be another 3 or 4 years before we are parents is exhausting. Honestly, it feels unfair that we have to go through all of this. It especially feels unfair because I have (sob! violins!) been so unhappy and so unwell for most of my life. Everything is hard for me. And so why wouldn't creating a family be hard? It follows the pattern of my life. And it hurts, it hurts really deep inside that this is one more of life's parties I am left out of; one more of life's rites of passages that is a challenge and maybe impossible for me. Yet another thing I have to fight for - I have fought so long now just for my right to life, and that fight seemed to come to an end... Only to start up again with this process. The most simple, biological act is another thing I have to fight for; and I've had to give up another dream - that of getting a degree - in the progress; another reminder of the scars of my childhood.
And so, I really hope - against hope and all my instincts - that PGD will work for us, and that we won't have to do endless cycles in order to get that BFP. I hope that a BFP is in our future. I hope that we don't have 3 or 4 years ahead of us. I hope that the road will be smooth.
But honestly? I am not the kid who gets picked for things. And so I can't believe it's going to happen - and whether that's intuition, the culmination of previous experiences, or my mind trying to protect me, I don't know.
I do feel bad writing my feelings down, as if I am jinxing this. As if, if I could just plaster on a positive face, all would be well and we would get our BFP first cycle. There are a lot of people out there who would like to believe that is true. Our lodger keeps telling me that all I need to do is 'think positive' about it (all I need to do is strangle her when she says that!). But what I believe is that if anything harms the body, it is stress - and stress comes out of repression. At the moment, I don't feel stressed - having felt stressed for about six months, I now feel such an amazing and lovely sense of calm, peace, and God's presence. How I love Him. I feel sad, but that's not stress. And feeling sad is as feeling sad is, and if I'm acknowledging my feelings and dealing with them, in my opinion I will get through this process a whole lot better, whether it works or not. I don't want to pin all my hopes on it working, and miss the good plan God has for us, which might well have nothing to do with PGD. I trust Him that He can make good things out of anything - He made me out of dust! This is so much bigger than me, than us, than humanity and our limited imaginings.
All the same, I would like to fast forward through the bit where we wait to find out if this process is going to work or not.
(P.S. I may or may not have comfort eaten six milk chocolate digestives tonight.)
Oh, and one of other 11,22 carriers is having her FOURTH baby!! Yes, that's right, fourth. (One has ES.)
The thing is, I'm not the same as 'infertile' women, because we haven't had the agonising years and years of charting and failing to fall pregnant.
And yet, I'm not the same as the other BT carriers, because I do have a fairly serious fertility issue, and if we tried naturally, I am 99.9% sure we would have the joy of the agonising years of charting and failing. I've had three periods since coming off the Pill in September 2011, and probably haven't ovulated. And, of course, if we eventually did fall - probably only with the aid of Clomid or similar - there would be a 50% chance it would miscarry, or have very serious health issues throughout it's life.
And so I'm even jealous of other carriers, because they have a lot more chances to have healthy babies than I do.
And jealous of other infertile women, because they can transfer all their embryos back, instead of just 10-20%, and they therefore get to a lot more FETs than us PGD-ers.
I have this feeling really deep inside at the moment that this isn't going to work... That we are doing this as a step towards realising adoption or fostering is what we have to do. I don't feel too negative about it; I just feel resigned, a bit sad, but also trusting in God and His provision - much better in that regard than I have been the past few months.
All the things against us just seem too much. There's a lady on Fertility Friends at our clinic, who is the only other person I've come across with such a high antral follicle count as mine, and her first two cycles haven't gone well (she's my age, as well). She hasn't produced enough good quality eggs - Care are so worried about her over-responding to the medication (developing OHSS) that she has in act under-responded. And what it seems to me, from other women with PCOS I have come across, is that a lot of our follicles develop but very few produce usable eggs, because too many are trying to produce eggs at once.
With PGD, we need a fair number of good quality eggs to give us a chance of a healthy embryo.
This doesn't mean we won't get an embryo, but it does mean the chances are against us more than some doing PGD.
I honestly don't mind how we have a child - I just want to parent and be a family. I'd love to adopt; I'd feel it was such an honour that we were being entrusted with such a vulnerable being. And I know my husband, and what a big, kind, and generous heart he has... And I know me: how I can welcome and love pretty much anyone into my life; how much patience I have with people, especially when they are struggling or disadvantaged; and I know my heart and how I could love and look after any child - biology really doesn't mean anything to me, and is not the reason I am doing PGD... I don't have that urge a lot of people have to have a child of my flesh and blood; I have an urge to parent and create a good life for a child, a person. I hope adoption is for us, it's something that is really deeply entrenched in my heart now, after all these years of thinking about it. But, in all honesty, I would like to live in a perfect world, and have both biological and adopted children. When I think of that dream, I have to remind myself that God knows what is best for me, and I do not. If I could run my life, I would make a total mess of it.
And so why try to have a biological child? At the moment, I'm not so sure. This - PGD - feels dangerous (emotionally and physically), and it is exhausting to think that we will likely have to do several cycles. I want to carry a baby, and I want to give birth, and I want to look after and nurse a newborn (oh! how much! it makes me choke up just thinking about it). But do I want to do those things enough to risk my health by going through this invasive and time-consuming procedure which has such a low chance of success?
However, I also know that we are not ready to adopt. Pete has rights as well as me, and this decision isn't mine alone. In fact, about a year ago, I very clearly heard God speak to me (it was precious and a very rare moment for me). I was stressing about whether PGD was 'right' or not, and God almost shook me by the shoulders: He reminded me that my husband has hopes, dreams and needs, that I am a family now I am married, and that PGD is something my husband wants to do. And since that moment I have not worried. When the doubts creep in, I don't let them interfere with the process - I am doing this for Pete, and because he has a right to hope and dream as well.
I also have previous mental health issues, and I had an unhappy childhood, so I am sure we will be screened and double screened prior to any potential adoption. And whether we would even be able to adopt - whether this is just some nice dream - is of major concern to me. Major, because I know how wrong it would be if we were refused, and what good adoptive parents we could make. And major because I've heard a lot about how hard the adoption screening process is, and how many people are turned down - and how much mental health problems can count against peoples' chances. Adoption definitely wouldn't be a done deal for us. And so, in order to move forward with the adoptive process, I would want to be in a really, really good position. I know we're not in that place now. It would be a process to get to that stage, and if that stage comes without a biological child coming first, it will mean mourning and giving up that dream.
All of this seems so long and drawn-out. I want to be a mother now; I feel ready now - to think it could be another 3 or 4 years before we are parents is exhausting. Honestly, it feels unfair that we have to go through all of this. It especially feels unfair because I have (sob! violins!) been so unhappy and so unwell for most of my life. Everything is hard for me. And so why wouldn't creating a family be hard? It follows the pattern of my life. And it hurts, it hurts really deep inside that this is one more of life's parties I am left out of; one more of life's rites of passages that is a challenge and maybe impossible for me. Yet another thing I have to fight for - I have fought so long now just for my right to life, and that fight seemed to come to an end... Only to start up again with this process. The most simple, biological act is another thing I have to fight for; and I've had to give up another dream - that of getting a degree - in the progress; another reminder of the scars of my childhood.
And so, I really hope - against hope and all my instincts - that PGD will work for us, and that we won't have to do endless cycles in order to get that BFP. I hope that a BFP is in our future. I hope that we don't have 3 or 4 years ahead of us. I hope that the road will be smooth.
But honestly? I am not the kid who gets picked for things. And so I can't believe it's going to happen - and whether that's intuition, the culmination of previous experiences, or my mind trying to protect me, I don't know.
I do feel bad writing my feelings down, as if I am jinxing this. As if, if I could just plaster on a positive face, all would be well and we would get our BFP first cycle. There are a lot of people out there who would like to believe that is true. Our lodger keeps telling me that all I need to do is 'think positive' about it (all I need to do is strangle her when she says that!). But what I believe is that if anything harms the body, it is stress - and stress comes out of repression. At the moment, I don't feel stressed - having felt stressed for about six months, I now feel such an amazing and lovely sense of calm, peace, and God's presence. How I love Him. I feel sad, but that's not stress. And feeling sad is as feeling sad is, and if I'm acknowledging my feelings and dealing with them, in my opinion I will get through this process a whole lot better, whether it works or not. I don't want to pin all my hopes on it working, and miss the good plan God has for us, which might well have nothing to do with PGD. I trust Him that He can make good things out of anything - He made me out of dust! This is so much bigger than me, than us, than humanity and our limited imaginings.
All the same, I would like to fast forward through the bit where we wait to find out if this process is going to work or not.
(P.S. I may or may not have comfort eaten six milk chocolate digestives tonight.)
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