Mother's Day

For the last few years, mother's day has been really hard on me; this year is no different. I haven't talked much about this struggle because it is a personal struggle that I didn't want to share publicly. And I am still not sure it is something I want to put out there, but I know there are so many women suffering the same way I am and maybe, just maybe we can find some community and support with each other.

I've wanted a baby for as long as I can remember, not that I did anything stupid when I was young, I just knew that one day I would like to be a mother. Fast forward to 2007 when both my best friend and little sister announced within 2 months of each other they would be expecting in 2008. I was freshly divorced, and suffering the kind of heartbreak I don't wish upon anyone. Never had I been such a mix of emotions. I loved both these women and I was truly happy for them, but inside I was dying. I wanted to be a mother. It was then I realized the little internal clock that most women have in regards to being a mother was ticking.

When my nephew was born in June 2008, I could not have been happier. I remember holding him while my sister showered one morning, in complete awe of him. In complete awe of her for this little miracle, and that's when the tears started flowing. I couldn't be jealous of my sister, but I was. Upon returning home, I made the decision to go off of birth control and if it happened, it happened. I would welcome the chance with fate.

My period has always been fairly irregular. It was mostly regular until I turned 18 and went on birth control, then the hormones in birth control took their control and made me very regular for 7 years. So when I didn't get a period for 4 months, I thought nothing of it. In fact, I thought nothing of it until July of 2009 when I realized that nothing was happening and it wasn't normal. I went to the doctor and their suggestion was to put me on birth control pills, I told them that I didn't like this option because I wanted to have a baby and if it happened then it happened, but I did not want to prevent it. So they did an ultrasound, they did blood work. They could find nothing wrong with me, so they started me on a Provera regime in hope of kick starting my hormones to do the right thing.

September 9, 2009: I lost my job. I lost my insurance. I was devastated. But figured, I had one round of the Provera, maybe it would work. September and October were stressful months, trying to make ends meet and finding a new job and new benefits, then mix in the fact I was in school full time as well at the time. So when I didn't get a period, I thought it was stress related. In November, it took everything I could to get out of bed in the morning, I was tired all the time. Every smell made me want to run to the bathroom. My breasts hurt just to lay down in bed, yet alone put a bra on in the morning. I got excited, super excited. I told myself, I would test after Thanksgiving because growing up I always got my period on or around Thanksgiving. That Thursday morning came, and I started my period. I was heartbroken. I put on a happy face and went through Thanksgiving trying to be happy that at least I got a period without drugs.

The biggest let down I have had to date occurred the next day. Sure, I got upset when I found out my college friend was expecting her baby girl. I was upset when I found out friends from high school were expecting. I was upset when his ex-girlfriend popped out ANOTHER kid, and here I was struggling for just one. However, my closest friend since I moved back here announced the day after Thanksgiving that she was 5 months along in her pregnancy. I was completely heart broken. I don't think to date I had ever broken down and cried so much. Here she was not even a few months prior saying she didn't know if they were ready for kids, that she wanted to be back in her home state to raise kids because this place was a hell hole. It felt like I had been stabbed in my chest. I congratulated her and excused myself to the stock room and out the stock room door, where I spent about 45 minutes, on Black Friday, completely in tears sobbing and shaking. It wasn't fair. I wanted this. I wanted a baby. I was so happy for her and her husband, but I wanted it. I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to be 20 weeks pregnant and feeling my baby move inside me.

After that it felt like everyone came out to say they were expecting. I finally was able to get insurance through my job, but could never find the time to make an appointment. I researched other options, fostering and adoption. I went so far as to attend a meeting about adopting a child and realized I didn't have the money, and while I fully qualified for grants and government assistance, I was still working 2 jobs, as was he, and we were struggling as it was to save money for a vacation because of all the bills that accumulated while I was semi-employed. With each friend or acquaintance that announced their pregnancy on Facebook, I fell deeper and deeper into my depression, asking "why?" all the time.

In October, he was able to quit his second job, which left a lot less stress on him, so he started helping around the house more, which left less stress on me. After many months of talking and planning, we finally found a way for me to work a second job mostly from home, and one where I was certainly a lot more appreciated. In January, I lost the 20 pounds I wanted to lose by cutting carbs and sugar out of my diet, I faithfully took my prenatal vitamins and followed the recommendation of a massage therapist of taking Vitex 3 times a day to boost fertility and regulate the female cycle. Thinking it would jump start it within a few months, most women had success after 3-6 months.

In April, I revisited the doctor to find out if there was anything wrong and what we could be doing. It had been since September 2010 since I had anything remotely close to a period (spotting for 2 weeks, negative pregnancy test). In charting my basal temperature I showed classic anovulatory temperature patterns. She and I talked, I told her we wanted a baby, sooner rather than later. She asked if I had been diagnosed with anything in the last year, I told her no and reminded her the tests were inconclusive the last time I saw her. She was upset that I hadn't seen her in almost 2 years, but after I explained I lost my job, she said she understood that, but it wasn't healthy. She scheduled tests and pelvic ultrasounds to take a look at things and then said come back in a month and if I hadn't had a period we would do a round of Provera and go from there.

The date will always be in my head. The date she said the 3 words I dreaded, those 4 initials that in the back of my head, I never thought would apply to me because I didn't have hardly any of the main symptoms of the diagnosis. On April 27, after what started as a terrible week, I was given a preliminary diagnosis of PCOS and was ordered to have more tests and to transfer to a reproductive endocrinologist. On May 26th, I have my first RE appointment and I am extremely hopeful for good news.

This year mother's day hits me particularly hard because before I did not have a prognosis. There wasn't really en explanation. Now there is, and I am scared to death of the money involved in treating this. I am scared to death that it may not work. I am scared. I am scared but I try to remain hopeful.

This morning in church, fighting back tears because they also had a baby dedication I had forgotten about, I was browsing through subject references in the back of my Bible, more specifically in reference to infertility. I ran across Psalm 113:9 which reads: He settles the childless woman in her home as a happy mother of children. This encouraged me and helped me get through the baby dedication, but also gave me the hope I needed.

So if I'm not attending your shower, or you notice I am not interacting with you the way I used to and you are pregnant. Please do not take it personal. It is just really really hard for me, especially now. I am truly happy for you, but my heart breaks for a child of my own.