Twenty-Five

I'm twenty-five today. Of course, I'm pretending that I'm twenty-two. Twenty-five just seems so...well...adult. Twenty-five really is the end of childhood. I can rent a car now. I'm REALLY an adult. I have been trying desperately to clutch to youth as I have approached this birthday and I think I've figured out why. 

I am twenty-five, but I feel fifty. In the past year of my life I have had to do a whole lot of growing up in a small amount of time. This year I've had to come to terms with the fact that life isn't always what I thought it would or should be. I have experienced the bitter pain of monthly disappointments. That is a pain that no one should ever have to experience. I've had to change my plans over and over again in the pursuit of motherhood. I'm exhausted. I am sure that my fellow fertility fighters know this feeling.

I have also learned who I am this year. I have learned that I am more than my ability to produce a child. I am talented. I've become a web developer! That's a big difference from what I went to college for (paralegal studies). I've learned to love and hurt with others who are experiencing pain, even if I've never met them. I've found my inner advocate. I have been very vocal about the struggle that my husband and I are going through and often times I am sure that it has been to the annoyance of others. I've learned that I don't care if my choices or my opinions don't meet the approval of others. There are only three people that I need the approval of: God, my husband, and myself.

The thing is, I am Rachel. I am not just a childless woman. I am a woman with many layers. I am talented, loving, creative, caring, funny, and unique. Most of all, I am strong. I have more strength than I ever thought possible. If you had told me one year ago that my husband and I would be where we are now I would have told you that it was impossible, that I couldn't do it. Guess what? I've done it and I'm still standing tall. 

I have my frequent moments of intense sadness and sorrow, but for those of you who don't know me well that is a huge showing of strength too. Until recently I have always pushed my feelings down and tried to never let them show. That was my way of trying to controlling life. I'm showing those emotions now and I know that life cannot be controlled. I am experiencing pain, but I am getting through it.

Thinking back over all that I have learned through this painful year has shown me something. I am going to be a much better mother than I would've been had it come easy. If it had come easily I would have child and my entire identity would be wrapped up in that child. I wouldn't know who Rachel really is. My child will benefit from having a mother who is strong in her sense of self and doesn't rely on the expectations of society to define her worth. More importantly, I am benefiting from that knowledge. 

Yes, I'm exhausted. Yes, infertility sucks. But wow, what a year. 

On to IVF

I was really hoping that this month would give us a miracle and that we wouldn't have to move forward with the IVF plan. It didn't. It doesn't matter how many times I've gotten my hopes up only to be disappointed, it still hurts like hell every time it happens. I'm having a hard time focusing on anything today. I'm just so upset. It's so hard how some people just don't understand how hard this is for infertile couples. They say, "It's not the end of the world." To me, it kind of is. Every month a little more of my optimism dies and that part of my heart that was so hopeful about the future grows colder.

I've sent a new patient appointment request to the Reproductive Endocrinologist that we want to do IVF with. I hope to be seeing him in late June. I'm also hoping beyond all hope that we can maybe do an IVF cycle by September, but that all depends on finances. The idea of waiting until September sucks. That's what infertility is, "hurry up and wait."

My Birthday

Very soon I am turning 25. I know that may seem extremely young to a lot of you, but I'm sort of freaked out by it. I'm not freaked out because I'm getting older. I'm disappointed that my life looks much different at 25 than I thought that it would. I expected to have a bouncing baby in my lap by this point in my life.

We recently found out that we are most likely going to have to do IVF to have a child. We are seeking a second opinion, but I'm very doubtful that the second opinion will be any different. The IVF program that we found costs around $10,000 for one cycle. I can't even describe how it makes me feel to have to pay $10,000 to have something that should come so naturally. It's heartbreaking. I feel like I'm having to 'buy' my baby and that hurts so deeply that I can feel it in my heart. We, like most people of childbearing age, don't have $10,000 laying around. It feels so unfair that the bigger financial struggle for us is going to be getting pregnant instead of the cost of caring for a child. Unfortunately, fair has nothing to do with this.

Many people have asked us why we don't adopt. My husband and I have both prayed and thought a lot about what the right path is for us. At this time, it is not adoption. The thing about adoption that most people don't understand is that it isn't an easy process or a simple fix. The cost of domestic infant adoption ranges from $10,000-$30,000, with it usually being closer to the $30,000 mark. The other thing about domestic infant adoption is that you can be on a waiting list for years and years. You can also finally find a birth mother only to have her change her mind once the child is born. The average cost for international adoption is between $25,000-$40,000 and many countries require at least one parent to travel to the country and stay there for two to three weeks before they can bring their child home. This adds to the cost of the adoption. Don't get me wrong, I think that adoption is a wonderful thing, but it isn't right for us right now.

All that said, I have one wish this year for my birthday. I just want a fighting chance at the opportunity to be someone's mom. I don't care about shiny things or pretty packages. I just want a chance at what comes so easily for most people. I know it's silly, but I've spent time writing to the child that I one day hope to hold. I've promised them and God that I will do my best to raise them to love God and to be a wonderful, loving person. I've promised my child that I will wait for them if they promise to come for me. I want nothing more intensely than to hold them in my arms. I've promised God that I will be grateful for them every day, every hour, every minute for the rest of my life.

I've added a donations button to my blog. It is in the upper right section of the blog. If you feel led to help us build our family, it's there. Also, please pray with us for a miracle. All I ever wanted as a little girl was to be a wife and a mommy. I have an amazing husband, but that little girl never imagined that this is what the road to motherhood would look like.

Today. Mother's Day.

This is the second most dreaded day of the year for me. The first is November 1st (the anniversary of when we started trying to get pregnant). I don't know, this one might be the most painful. I've spent today trying to pretend that today was just any other Sunday. I've stayed off of Facebook and even Twitter, but even the TV gives me no break.

There are no amount of tears I could shed today that could even come close to pouring out the pain that is in my heart tonight. I would give anything to hear a little voice calling me mommy today. I would give anything for today not to be a source of pain for me and all of my friends who are in the same boat as me.

Remember my friends, tomorrow will be kinder.

Mother's Day

As someone who desperately wants to be a mother, Mother's Day is a very hard day for me. I read an article the other day that got me thinking. No, I'm not a mother yet, but I have nurtured and shown love to many children in my life. Whether these children are family members, children that I was paid to care for, or children that captured my heart while on mission trips in Jamaica, I have and still do truly love all of them. To all the women out there that aren't mothers: You've made a difference in the life of some child at some point. You should be very proud of that. Happy Mother's Day.

2012 Advocacy Day

Today I made my first phone call to someone on Capital Hill. I made three calls actually, one to Senator Saxby Chambliss, one to Senator Johnny Isaacson, and one to Representative Lynn Westmoreland. I don't know why, but I was really nervous about it. I called to express my desire to see the Family Act passed and to see the Adoption Tax Credit extended. I was sent to a voicemail by Senator Chambliss' office but I was able to speak to actual people from Senator Isaacson's and Representative Westmoreland's offices. 

I shared with both of the men that I spoke to that my husband and I were one of the many couples that wanted desperately to have a family but do not have coverage for infertility through our insurance company and, like most couples of child bearing age, we aren't rich. I expressed how much these tax credits would mean to families like mine in that they would make our dream of having children a little bit closer in reach.

The man that I spoke to from Senator Isaacson's office had just gotten out of a meeting with Resolve when I called. I didn't get a definite answer on whether or not I could count on the Senator to support the Family Act (he said they wanted to look at the nuts and bolts of the bill before making a decision) but he did sound very positive towards it.

The man that I spoke to from Representative Westmoreland's office said that they supported both the Family Act and the Adoption Tax Credit. He told me that not only would these bills help build families, but they would also help stimulate the economy. If I have a baby I go to Babies'R'Us and buy products, I take my child to the doctor, and pay for child care. All of these things are good for the economy. I was so thrilled to hear this argument for the tax credits. I hadn't thought of it that way, but it's a darn good argument.

I felt so empowered after making those calls. Standing up for myself, my husband, and people like us felt amazing. We need to be our own advocates. We are many, and if we stand together we CAN make things happen. This is meaningful to me because infertility has made me feel so out of control of my life and my own body. It felt good to take even a little of that power back.

Don't Ignore My Grief Over The Child I Long For

This is my first post this week in honor of National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW). This year's theme is: Don't Ignore...

Don't Ignore My Grief Over The Child I Long For

This may not make sense to someone who hasn't experienced infertility, but I grieve for a child that has never existed. I cry over the holidays that I am not celebrating with my child, over the memories that we aren't making together, and I grieve the feeling that it is my fault that the child in my heart doesn't already have a heartbeat of their own. I also grieve the fact that my best friend's child and my niece and nephew won't be close enough in age to my child to become close friends. I grieve the dream of what I thought my life would look like right now. 

Let me give you a few examples of what my life looks like right now vs. what I thought it would when I started trying to conceive. 

1) Every day I pass an empty room. Its walls are a very pale yellow and there are cream colored curtains that help keep it dark. This is my child's room, but my child isn't in it. There is no crib, no changing table, no toys, no crying, and no laughter. Every time I pass this room it is a painful reminder of the child that I long for.

2) When I go to the grocery store I see moms with their little children searching for the best grocery deals so that they can feed their growing family. I search for the best deals so that I can save as much money as possible for the treatments it could take just to get me pregnant.

3) I see beautiful pictures of children and babies every day on Facebook. These pictures are bittersweet. I am happy for the families in them, but I cry wishing that I could post pictures like those of me, my husband, and our child.

Those are just a few examples of what I go through daily. I grieve for my child. I need you to understand how painful this missing piece is for me. I need you to acknowledge that this grief exists and to ask me how I'm doing. I may or may not want to talk about it, but it will mean the world to me just to know that you cared enough to ask.