Our time to leave the Matrix

As usual, many thoughts  swirling in my head (most of them happy, picture posts about our last few weeks in Mexico) but I wanted to address our next move.  I’m not as comfortable sharing every nitty gritty medical detail on this blog, mostly because I feel that my blog is a bit different in that it isn’t anonymous as many other blogs are.  Also, although I use this as an outlet to write and work through some things, I never intended the sole purpose of this blog to be about our fertility struggles and I would rather people I know find out about them through me.  But, best intentions aside, its what happened and has taken up a large part of my writing.  (Anyone remember when I was supposed to write about homosexual marriage?  Yeah, still working on that one…just don’t hold your breath.) (Hopefully you weren’t.)

After 10 months of SST charting and no pregnancy, I decided to learn Creighton last year before we moved to Mexico.  You know, so I could practice charting while there and get in line with Dr. Hilgers and eventually take advantage of the endocrinology knowledge of the Napro system.  But I wouldn’t really need that because I’d probably get pregnant on our Mexican trip, right?   Not exactly.  Still I sent in my paperwork in September-ish, got a quick, routine response and sat on it.  Because we were probably going to get pregnant while we were in Mexico, right?  Not exactly, I also knew I had no time to pursue anything else while finishing my degree.  At one point I thought we’d go to Omaha in January, but our time in Mexico was too limited and valuable.  So we put the idea off until June.

Well, it will be June in 5 days.  And 13 months of Creighton charting later.

And I see Dr. Hilgers on June 1st.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have anxiety.  Although I know Creighton has done amazing things, I’m afraid of putting my hope in this idea of a ‘cure’ because at the core I want to be OK with this childlessness, if that’s what’s going to happen – as it already seems most probable.  Last year was really rough for me…much harder than this second year, precisely because of the hope factor.  Last year I kept having to convince myself that I have nothing to worry about, to just wait it out.  I think now that I have the proof in my fertility history that getting pregnant won’t be easy for us on our own, I’m used to this monthly rejection.  I haven’t cried (when I’ve gotten my period) in 4 months now.  Granted, I was a little preoccupied, but no tears for 4 months?  That’s unreal.

Before two weeks ago, the thing  I was most afraid of hearing from Dr. Hilgers is “You will get pregnant soon!” since I would have to go back to actually expecting pregnancy.  The idea of expecting such a miraculous amazing thing to happen to me?  It has become as imaginary to me as the idea of intergalactic travel.  Maybe I’m mildly depressive anyway, or incredibly excitable, but I remember having that hope for pregnancy and when it doesn’t happen each month, its crushing, no matter how you try to protect yourself.

[Although I did have a little hope that this last month before my surgery would be *the month*.  (After all, I just needed to defend and take a relaxing vacation and then I’d get pregnant, right?)  Luckily, when I voiced this hope to my husband he said, I’m sorry honey, but its just not likely.  And he was right. And he always has hope.]

But then about a week or two ago I realized that something worse could happen.  He could find something, like, missing/malformed gonads (sorry, I had to go there) and tell me that I have no chance of pregnancy.  Maybe this idea of ‘hope’ shouldn’t be my greatest fear.  I’d have certainty that no, I can’t have kidsEver.  And man, talk about sucking my breath away.  Am I ready for that?

My husband and I revisited that conversation (it had been a while since we decided to go to Omaha in the first place) and we reaffirmed that yes, we’re ready to leave this place of ‘not knowing’.  And we realize that just because we decide to leave it doesn’t mean we’ll actually find out what’s wrong.  Many couples never have solid answers for why they can’t get pregnant.  I have to be prepared for that as well.  But at least we’ll have taken the next steps to figuring it out.

In the geeky words of my husband, we’re choosing to “leave the infertility Matrix”.

We don’t know what the answers are or what lies out there (or in there, in terms of my insides), we just know that we have to take the red pill and go to Omaha and begin to figure it out, no matter how bad the truth is.

Please pray for us this next week, especially on June 1st.  We have a fun road trip planned with stops to see family, so I’m trying to stay positive, but the reality exists that my dream of a ‘natural conception’ has flown out the window.

And I may need help being a big girl about it.

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11 thoughts on “Our time to leave the Matrix

  1. I really hope the surgery and Dr. H give you a renewed sense of hope, and that having hope again isn’t painful. I know what you mean about that.. hope’s a tricky thing! And not that you want to wait another 2 1/2 years after surgery like I did, but just remember if you don’t get pregnant right away it doesn’t mean you never will.

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