the torment

I can't believe it's been so long since I've written a post. Actually I can. The last month has been excruciatingly painful and it has taken me a long time to pull myself up.  I'll do my best to fill you in using the least amount of words possible, but I don't make any promises.

On July 18 we saw an infertility specialist... for a total of eight minutes. He basically spit out a plan that he must use on all of his new patients. 

Clomid. Ovidrel. Ultrasounds. Progesterone. 

I told myself God must really want me on Clomid since this was the second time I've been told to take it, but I never committed my decision to prayer. When my new cycle began, I started Clomid and a series of ultrasounds. Everything looked perfect. My hormone levels were good. I had three mature eggs ready to be released. My lining was thick. They gave me the Ovidrel shot. I went in for another ultrasound to ensure the eggs released. They did. I started progesterone suppositories. And for the first time in years, my fourteen days of spotting did not happen. I was in heaven! And I just KNEW I was going to be pregnant. 

Our seventh anniversary was coming up. Seven - the number of completion. I was so humbled and amazed at the Lord's timing.  I felt that surely He would end our years of trying and bring us into the new season of parenthood. The baby would be due in April, which would give me six weeks plus summer vacation off. It was perfect. 

But then the torment began. I have never tried so hard not to think about being pregnant. I think my body woke itself up at night and forced me to think about it, as if I could will it into existence. I had constant headaches and I fell off my paleo bandwagon. I planned how I would tell family/friends that we were finally pregnant and shoved any inkling of a feeling that I might not be pregnant away. In my sick little mind, there just was no possibility that it couldn't happen. I counted each and every one of the thirteen days until the doctor said I could take a home pregnancy test.  

*side note - Our anniversary was Monday, August 13. I couldn't take the pregnancy test until Friday, August 17.  So I told Husband we would celebrate our anniversary on that night instead.

August 17 finally rolled around. 

Big. Fat. Negative. 

Followed by the longest descent into the deepest, darkest hole I've ever experienced. I was so angry. No, I didn't cry or allow myself to grieve and heal.  I immediately took matters into my own hands and that same day saw an OBGYN. 

He heard my history and told me Clomid was an old drug and that Femara was a better choice because it doesn't thin the uterine lining. He said he wouldn't do multiple ultrasounds and bloodwork so that would save us money. He said I shouldn't be worrying about progesterone because my body makes it for a living, when it's pregnant. I haven't been pregnant yet so of course the levels are off. He was so arrogant and pushy but I was determined to make myself pregnant that I soaked up every word he said. I forced my feelings aside and started the Femara.

That same evening we went to dinner with friends. This dinner was scheduled to be a celebratory anniversary dinner full of joy and excitement at the mercy and goodness of our God. But instead I was dragged by Husband to keep me from falling deeper into depression. These dear friends struggled for two years with infertility and were due any day with their miracle baby. They suggested that I see their female infertility specialist who had way better bedside manners.

On the way home that night, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I have forced every event of the last two months, without praying or seeking the Lord's will, to happen.  I had such a peace with the doctor I saw in Austin, and have not felt anything like it since. I knew the Lord closed that door and assumed I needed to find a doctor here. But I realized the Lord has closed the door to doctors... for now.

I can't handle it mentally.  As soon as I see one, all of my energy, hope, and trust goes into their ability to make me pregnant. I obsess over every appointment, every medication, every ultrasound, every cycle day. It's making me crazy. Literally crazy.

So it is finished. For now. No more doctors. No more charting. No more medications. No more ultrasounds. No more sleepless nights during two week waits. And praise the Lord, no more bills for failed treatment coming in the mail!

No more torment.

He alone opens and closes the womb. And He will open mine... in His beautiful, amazing, perfect, sovereign timing.

humbled by His faithfulness and love,

sarah jane