We’ve been on our journey to have a baby for 28 months now. Over two years of ups and downs. We had brief success and one overwhelming loss. I spent many nights crying, a lot of time feeling bitter and alone, and constantly asking why us?!

But with these two years of trying to conceive came maturity. I can honestly say I’m not the person I was two years ago. I guess loss and struggle can do that. I could let every unsuccessful month that goes by make me a little more angry, or a little more bitter or depressed, but I’m choosing to grow instead. I have to chose to take this experience and grow from it because I can’t live in this dark place alone. 

I’m not going to lie and say I’m grateful for this experience in any way. I wish no one would ever have to experience infertility or a miscarriage. I don’t have any control over the baby makin’ hand we’ve been dealt, but I do have control over the person I become because of it.

I’m extremely grateful for my husband and my marriage. I feel like we truly understand what it means to be partners, committed no matter what. After going through our miscarriage and a year of failed attempts of conceiving, we were in a really bad place. We decided to taketime “off” from trying and just spent time together. We had those important conversations and we got back to the people we fell in love with years before all of the mess. 

When we were both ready, we moved forward with our RE and started medicated cycles and all of the madness that comes with it. My husband is the only other person who knows what I’m going through and he’s my rock through the hormonal crazies. One thing we do is let the other person know when we’re having a “down day.” It’s a cue to let each other know when to give a lite extra love. We both have our down days but we don’t have them every day. I chose to let infertility make my marriage stronger, otherwise it will tear us apart. 

Recently, friends and family members have been announcing their pregnancies and parading around their bundles of joy. Initially, every single announcement feels like a punch in the gut. It’s a reminder of what I don’t have and want so badly. It’s a reminder of what could have been. I love children and spend the majority of my time teaching little kiddos (I’m a preK teacher!). So instead of  staying in a depressed and jealous place, I’ve learned to just love instead. 

When I’m surrounded by babies or littles, I think about my own one day child. I think about how overwhelmingly happy I will be when I meet my own child. I think about how much love I’ve been saving up for this baby and how many nights I’ve spent dreaming about changing dirty diapers and staying up with a crying baby. I’m not apprehensive about my child at all, I’m excited for every experience! Because I know how long I’ve waited and prayed for him or her. I chose to look forward rather than sink into depression. 

We’ve been dealing with failed cycles and a lot of uncertainty lately. My first cycle on clomid was 16 days and my second cycle is 48 days and counting. I had my first beta check and my first phone call with bad results. I’m not pregnant, my uterus just decided it had enough. As I type this I’m on day 8 of provera with no period in sight. I’m more than a little frustrated. I’m angry at my uterus. I’ve had regular cycles my entire life and now you decide to not work anymore?!?! Instead of being angry, I have to keep looking forward. This month didn’t work but there’s still hope and options. Now I know what doesn’t work with my body. I’ve learned to love myself no matter what my body is choosing to do. I’ve learned to take care of myself because I’m important in this baby makin’ process! I’m excited for our upcoming IUI and still hopeful for success. 

What I’ve found comfort in recently is something my husband said to me. He said we were going to have our happily ever after one day, no matter what. We will have a family, whether the children come from my womb or another woman’s. One day this will all be over and we can just be happy. It’s not a conventional story, but it’s our story. 

By far, the best thing I’ve done since our trying to conceive struggles 28 months ago was to start blogging. It’s the best way for me to process all of this crazy fertility stuff. I’ve learned so much from the other women and I’m inspired by all of your strength and perservesrance. I think we could all say we’re stronger people because of our journeys. 

So I guess what this long, rambling post was intending to say was I’m choosing to take these experiences and learn from them. I will not let infertility change me into someone I’m not. I definitely still have my bad days, weeks, and even months. But all I can do is just take each day as it comes. I’m going to continue to love myself, my husband, and all of the people around me. I’m going to keep praying for our happily ever after and lean on others when I need strength. I’m going to share my story because I know how lonely infertility can feel. I’m going to smile knowing that one way or another we will have a family. 

Lifestyle Changes

We’ve been trying to conceive for over 2 years. That’s leaves a lot of time to think and question myself. Do I exercise enough? Am I eating healthy enough? Am I getting enough rest? Maybe I’m not calculating my ovulation correctly? Should I be taking/not taking certain supplements? But the question I find myself asking the most is do I need to change my lifestyle? 

I’m married to a charter pilot which means we live without a schedule. Annoying? – yes. But I’ve come to peace with my husband’s choice in career a long time ago and I couldn’t ask him to do anything else. (And frankly I think we would go insane seeing each other every day!!! Hahaha)

I see how much my husband absolutely loves flying, and I reflect on my daily struggles of being a teacher. 

My day begins with an hour commute through never ending construction zones. And I’m only driving 15 miles!

Then I get to my classroom, which is in the most challenging building in the district. I see children in physical altercations with staff and being restrained daily. I hear the f word screamed down the hall daily. The staff are absolutely giving their all until there isn’t anything left.

My class is an emotional disaster. Children are coming from abuse, neglect, and poverty. But I can only put a bandaid on their problems during the day. Although I try to teach and heal from a loving place, I’m not always successful. Just today every chair in my class was thrown by one child in a fit of rage. 

Since we’ve been doing medicated cycles, I’m “hands off” in my classroom meaning I will not physically restrain a child in any way. That means children are hurting each other because I’m no longer the barrier between them. I’m trying to protect myself physically but emotionally I’m a disaster too. My classroom is a daily assault on my senses, emotions, and spirit. 

I’ve been taking all of the correct steps to support my students with behavior challenges and social emotional deficits. But it’s March and I’m still in the trenches. Any intervention or support is solely my responsibility. 

When do I say enough is enough? When do I walk away? And if I do, how do I justify my choice to leave with the students who need me the most? When do I put myself first? Are my needs important enough that I could ever walk away?