Feeling Drawn to Write

I have been spending a lot of time reading other baby loss and infertility blogs, and lately it is just about the only place I don't feel alone in all this mess. It reminds me there are many, many (too many) other women going through this same struggle, and that helps me in ways nothing else can. It's so easy for me to feel like I am adrift in the sea of infertility with no one to help me back to shore. Please don't read that the wrong way: My husband is remarkably helpful in the ways that he can be; my therapist is wonderful too; my family supports me as well as it can (although their patience with me is wearing thin, I'm afraid; and then there is the beautiful, wonderful, life-saving help of my dear friend Lexapro. Yep, that's what I said, my anti-depressant is pulling me through this difficult, confusing, frustrating, ridiculous, maddening time in my life, and I am truly grateful for that.
Looking back at that list, it should concern me (and you, my reader) that I failed to mention God anywhere in that list of things pulling me through. Hmm, that is an issue and it's one I know I need to address. Of course, I want to believe that God is THERE and that he is for me, wanting to work all things for good in my life. But with each passing disappointment and heartbreak, it has gotten harder and harder for me to cling to that frayed life-rope in my life. I WANT to, more than anything, but most days I just can't. I am struggling majorly with my faith, with prayer, with God's role in my life, with all of it. I don't understand so many things, and no one can help understand them. This is just me and God, and mostly I don't feel I have the energy left to work on it at this point. Can't God just fix this and speak to me somehow? Show me he's really there and that he cares about my pain? Oh, and maybe, just maybe, throw a healthy baby in there for good measure? Thanks, God, that would be great.

Sarcasm and cynicism aside, I am doing the best I can with where we are right now. If you ask me, this is PERFECT time for a baby to finally come into our lives, but then we all know it's not up to us (well, most of us anyway... there do seem to be those very lucky women who DO get to choose when a baby will come into their lives. Weird how that works).  I mean, we moved to Traverse City ("It's a great place to raise kids!"), are settled into new jobs, and oh yeah, we've been trying now for over 2 years. Yep, I'd say it's high time for a little baby magic to come our way. Sadly, that doesn't seem to be happening. Back in November we started new fertility treatments with the goal of getting me to ovulate earlier, with the hope that my delayed ovulation issues are what caused our two miscarriages in 2010 and 2011. However, so far, the pills shots and timed intercourse and endless follicle study ultrasounds and blood draws and everything else that goes into this process have proven unsuccessful. We are currently in the 2 week wait of our 2nd round of Follistim injectables, and yes, this is the part of the cycle where I over analyze every single thing going on with my body. Are my boobs sore? Maybe I'm pregnant! More tired than usual? For sure pregnant! Slightly nauseous? More emotional? All pregnancy symptoms. Only they're not. They are side effects of the massive amounts of hormones and fertility meds I pump into my body on a monthly basis, and as a cruel twist of irony, they all work to make you feel like you are indeed pregnant for the 2 weeks leading up to your wonderful and dreaded period. Oh, the joys of this journey. :) The only good thing about my period's monthly arrival is the fact that I can once again drink coffee and alcohol for 2 whole weeks, until we're back to this same waiting game. So, I'll meet you in a week for a beer, and that'll be great!

New Year, Same Struggles

Well, here I am facing the first day 2012, and wouldn't you know I am find myself in an extremely emotional state. I woke up anxious, after taking the horribly disgusting Prometrium pill at 7:30 am, only to go back to bed, where I continued to toss and turn for two hours. During those 2 hours, I think I mostly prayed to God (in other words, I pleaded with God to give us a baby), begging him to give us a chance... to please just give us a chance at being parents. This has already been a long and dreadful road. I am broken and sad and lost. I've survived (although just barely) two horrific miscarriages, which have ravaged my soul and robbed me of my faith. I struggle immensely with this issue: If God loves me, where is he in all this mess? And I have gone in circles about it for so long, that at some point I just gave up trying to understand God's role in my life. I am too scared and too scarred to pray to him anymore. He has turned me down and told me no too many times. He has left me alone to bleed out my dreams and desires without so much as a comforting touch to let me know he cares. In short, I'm not sure I feel it's worth it to pray to God for the true desires of my heart anymore. I am scared of God. And that, my friends, is a truly scary place to be.

I so want to be hopeful that 2012 will be our year. And yet, what evidence do I have that would merit such a hope? In this whole quest to have a baby, what one single thing has gone right that would lead me to believe this might all actually end well one day? There is nothing of the sort. Things don't go my way in this area, not ever. I don't just lose my babies, I lose them and then bleed for months because my body can't even do the miscarriage part correctly. I am horrible at making babies, horrible at keeping babies alive, and then I'm even horrible at expelling babies once my body has killed them. It's all very dark and gruesome, yes, but it's also true. Welcome to the heart and mind of Emily Ann Moore. It's a not a place I would ever want to spend any time, if only I had a choice in the matter. And yet, here I am, still trying to find my way through the darkness to that small glimmer of hope that one day my fate will change. And to help me get there, I will work on trying to write out my feelings as often as possible, with the hope that no one will really ever read these. I'm afraid you might want to have me committed if you did.