Stuck in a fog.
You know when it's foggy but not too foggy and the weatherman says it's going to lift by a certain time so you get in your car and start the trek to your destination? But instead of the fog dissipating, it's only getting denser by the minute (damn weatherman) and it gets so bad so suddenly that you can't even see the car in front of you and you're starting to question if your headlights are on?
Then, it starts to drizzle (which definitely wasn't on the radar before you left the house), and you notice the thermometer on your dashboard is dropping all too quickly so you turn on the defroster to keep your windshield from freezing over. But then you realize your defroster is only working on the passenger side of your car and is doing absolutely nothing to the now freezing drizzle that is quickly thickening on the driver's side of the windshield.
You pull over and retrieve your trusty ice scraper from the backseat and go to town on your windshield. Your arms hurt, your nose hairs are frozen and you can't feel your toes. You try to get back in your car but the doors are frozen shut and your cell phone is inside. A big gust of wind literally smacks you in the face and you realize there's at least four inches of snow accumulating around your feet....
OK...... things got dark real fast in my metaphor so I think I'll end it there. 😂
What I'm trying to tell you is that yes, I know, I haven't given you an update on where we're at in our journey for a couple months.
It's because I've been stuck in this heavy, dense fog... mixed with the sadness of the holidays, test results that are less than ideal, things just plain not working how they're supposed to, and loads of confusion.
Not to mention the daily struggle of facing each day without a baby in my tummy, the nightly struggle of falling and staying asleep, the current state of my faith, and the exhausting act of putting on a smile when I truly just want to hide under my covers.
As a refresher, we had all the weird stuff happen back in October with the no ovulation, then the new hormone to trigger a period (which didn't work), then the new birth control (which put me in the ER with super high blood pressure), then a different new birth control that finally worked.
When I FINALLY got my period at the end of November, I was elated. Finally, we can try again.
I started on a higher dosage of Femara on November 30 and took that through December 4. I went in for my trans-vaginal ultrasound on December 13 and was prepared for our final (#7) donor sperm IUI the following day.
At the ultrasound, I was once again handed bad news. I either missed the ovulatory window for an IUI, or I wasn't going to ovulate again this cycle.
Brian and I met with our doctor a week later on December 20. We vented our frustrations. We talked about timing. We talked about IVF. The doctor gave us his personal cell number (which was a very kind gesture). Then I gave some more blood so they could check on some levels.
These last couple months, I have felt very stuck (kind of like what being locked out of my car with no cell phone during a blizzard would feel like).
I've spent lots of days waiting.
Waiting for a period.
Waiting for lab results.
Waiting for the clinic to call me back.
Waiting to see if the hormones worked.
Waiting for another ultrasound.
Waiting for an explanation of what some things mean.
Waiting for God to swoop in and save me.
As a writer, I would assume (you know what they say about what happens when you assume things) that during this period of waiting, writing would be my outlet. But to be completely honest, I've been avoiding my laptop like it's COVID-19 itself.
It's not always just the heart. Sometimes your mind breaks as well.
I'm going to leave you with a very powerful quote I found on Pinterest from some stranger named Daniell Koepke. Keep this close to your heart when you're struggling with something or when someone you love is struggling. 💜
the fact that you're struggling doesn't make you a burden.
it doesn't make you unloveable, undesirable, or undeserving of care.
it doesn't make you too much or too sensitive or too needy.
it makes you human.
everyone has a difficult time coping, and at times, we all fall apart.
during these times, we aren't easy to be around –– and that's OK.
no one is easy to be around 100% of the time.
yes, you may sometimes be unpleasant or difficult.
and yes, you may sometimes do or say things that make the people around you feel helpless or sad.
but those things aren't all of who you are and they certainly don't discount your worth as a human being.
the truth is that you can be struggling and still be loved.
you can be difficult and still be cared for.
you can be less than perfect, and still be deserving of compassion and kindness.
We have some big plans for the new year, and we are just now getting them put into place. I cannot wait to share the next part of our journey with you! 2022 is going to be our year!