So, I get to see Mark in 38 days, 15 hours, and two minutes. And really, the next 38 days, 15 hours, and two minutes can’t come soon enough. I’m trying so hard to find something to be thankful for, and I can do it, but finding the positives still isn’t making me happy with my life today. I know that I have had so many interactions that I am thankful for. For example, today, I’m thankful for the nice Theresa at Zales who took links out of the watch Mark bought me, I’m thankful that I had a good work out and simultaneously chatted with my mom and sister, and I’m thankful for a fun lunch at Imo’s with Chris. But really and truly, part of me just wants to crawl into bed and cry because I miss Mark so much. And as great as lunch with Chris was, being around Mark’s friends (and even family sometimes) makes me miss him even more.
This month, I jump back on the fertility roller coaster after taking a five-month non-voluntary hiatus from the fertility front. I was so hoping that at this point I would be pregnant. In fact, I would have loved being able to formally announce that I was pregnant at Christmas. Instead, insurance drama, jumping through the slow military hoops, a doctor who wanted to re-run my fertility tests, an inopportune timing of my Europe trip, and two surgeries pushed me to a November start date even though I wanted to jump right back in after my move to St. Louis. For someone who is a planner and who likes to feel in control, jumping on the fertility roller coaster again means I’m relinquishing that again.
Don’t get me wrong; I am so thankful for Dr. Carter at Scott AFB. She has been incredible, and her thoroughness is hopefully going to land me a successful pregnancy. It’s just so hard for me to be optimistic, and it’s challenging to not be stressed out about this. Throw in the fact that Mark is gone, and his presence is my most effective stress relief… not to mention the fact that his presence would physically make getting pregnant easier. Getting to try naturally would make me feel a bit better since I feel like I’m putting all my eggs into one basket. Instead, I’m sitting here hoping that the drugs, timing, and one shot of defrosted sperm during the IUI works. I’m working out like crazy, trying to let the endorphins do their job and help me de-stress since the one person in the world who helps me the most is thousands of miles away.
And of course stress only screws with a female’s system more…in my case, it makes my cycle longer, pushing the window for the following cycle back, making me nervous that Mark won’t be home during my subsequent window. (Notice how I don’t think that I’ll get pregnant with the IUI. I’m already planning that I’m going to be trying when Mark’s home. And how much fun does that make the 15 days Mark is home when I’m just stressed out about getting pregnant because I won’t see my husband for another four months, and then we’ll be getting ready for another move and I could have another doctor who wants to re-test me for everything again!)
I love how everyone says to not stress about it…as if is that easy…it makes me just want to scream. Yeah…don’t stress. I’ve only been trying to get pregnant since June 2008. Do you know how many friends and family members have gotten pregnant and have children since Mark and I’ve been trying? Do you realize that during that time I’ve had two miscarriages, one of which was an ectopic pregnancy? Since then, I’ve moved twice, had three unsuccessful IUIs, lost my dad and had my husband deploy, and had two surgeries. But I shouldn’t be stressed. This time it’s going to work. It’s going to be a miracle.
And don’t get me wrong; I want to believe. I want to believe that at the end of August I will have a beautiful baby named Jake or Emma in my arms. But I don’t *totally* believe it. I only sort of believe it. Some days, I can really imagine it. Other days, I think it’s never going to happen. I’m terrified because trying just means I jump back onto the emotional roller coaster.
I’ve read numerous fertility books, and I’m trying to follow their advice. I’m trying to imagine that I’m going to be pregnant and have a baby. I’m crocheting blankets for Emma and Jake. I’m trying to look at baby stuff and imagine Mark and me doing things with a baby. I’m imagining having baby showers. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that Mark and I will know by Christmas and have the best Christmas secret. I’m getting massages to help me relieve stress. I’m looking into accupressure to help increase my fertility chances. But none of that really takes away the terror I feel when I let myself think about it. I just keep thinking, am I really doing this again!?
It boils down to this. I’m usually one of the most optimistic people out there, and I work hard to achieve success. Hard work doesn’t matter in fertility. I can’t control it, and I hate it. I can do everything in my means to be as healthy as possible, but really, it’s all up to chance and hoping that the doctors have really fixed me with the surgeries and drugs.
And no matter what does or doesn’t happen on the baby front, I still don’t get my husband back for 168 days. We haven’t lived in the same house for more than seven days since last January. I feel like the Air Force has cheated me out of so many things. I feel like they’re the reason I don’t have a baby upstairs right now, and I’ve been cheated out of 16 months of my marriage with Mark.
So yes, I know I should be thankful. I know I have so much to be thankful for. But I’m not in the mood to be thankful. I feel like the two most important things in my life have been taken away. And I know I’m not getting Mark back and I’m still just hoping doctors get me pregnant. This just isn’t the way any of this should have happened. I guess the best thing I can say now is that I’m down to 38 days, 14 hours, and 14 minutes until I get to have a normal life for 15 days.
