Marriage

I thought I would put in my two sense on the effects of infertility on marriage.  I have been really pondering this subject and have been glad to see other blogs have had the same thought as me.  It's as if we are all on the same page!  I think I have a unique perspective which I will share in the 2nd part, but my 1st part is probably not new and something we've all figured out which is men react differently to coping then us women.

Part 1:

Although, this infertility thing is new to me, I will say that no matter how supportive (and let me note my hubby is VERY supportive) your husband is, infertilty causes a strain on a marriage.  My husband got over the grief in a matter days, no strike that, hours after the surgery.  Or so it seemed.  He said that he coped in his own way (aka hunting).  But because he wasn't sad or crying over it like I was, I thought it wasn't as a big deal to him as it was for me.  He didn't want to talk about it, to relive those feelings.  He would listen to me, but he didn't grieve with me.  Later on I realized that just because he wasn't coping or grieving the way I expected him or wanted him to cope or grieve didn't mean that he wasn't coping, grieving, and hurting.  Even knowing this, almost two months later I still find it hard not to be frustrated at times, that as I cry every day, he seems to be okay.  But then I remember this:

Part 2

I chose him to be my husband and because of that we will get through this.  Together.  Let me explain why this is HUGE people!  My ethnic background is Cambodian.  My dear Mother endured horrific tragedies in order to escape out of the Vietnam War and come to America.  Her trials are extraordinary, far worse than any trials I have gone through or hope to go through.  When she got here, she was 19, her family was poor, and the custom back then was to have an arranged marriage. In order for her family to survive, her mother (my grandmother), made an arrangement for her to be married to the first suitor who could provide a specific monetary amount.  My dear father, had seen my mother, fell in love with her and was determined to marry her.  He was, too, poor, and might I add the only adopted son in a family of 9 kids.  There was several suitors, but my father was the first to come up with the money. So, to make a long story short, my parents were married.  My mom at 19 was married to someone she barely knew and was over a decade older than her.  I never realized the meaning of this until a few years after I had been married.  To love someone and to be in with love someone are two different things.  Having a choice to who you marry is something I think we Americans forget and take for granted.  I can not imagine the emotions that go along with an arranged marriage for both sides.  My guess is there not many support groups for this or blogs on this subject.  I may be wrong, but it is not something you hear about often and I know how lonely it feels to be infertile, but I can't imagine going through this with someone I did not choose to go through this with. My parents are extremely good people and I know now they love each other.  And it all works out, trust me, one of the most beautiful moments I have ever witnessed is their sealing in the temple 3 years ago.  Tomorrow, is their anniversary, they will have been married for 28 years. I love them dearly and hope through their story you have learned that no matter how rough it gets in your marriage, remember that it was your choice, YOU chose that man to be your husband.  Don't take that for granted.

Grief

As you probably noticed in my prior post I have been desperately wishing for this grief process to be over. 

I KNOW that everything will be okay, but I have struggled with the fact that if I know this, then why am I still so sad, so emotional, and dare I say it, in dispair? 

I found out this answer today after discussing this with my grief counselor.  (For those of you struggling with ANYTHING, I am a huge advocate of seeking help, namely from a trained counselor, therapist, or physciatrist.  There is no shame in asking for help.)

So the answer is:

Grief will take longer than most people think it will.

Grief will take more energy than a person ever imagined.

I know this is pretty simple and duh statements, but my counselor went on to relate it with this analogy that really made a whole lot of sense:

If you broke your arm and your arm was healing, would you be able to make your arm heal any quicker?  No.  You would have to let it heal naturally and then eventually, go through physical therapy in order to have your arm back to normal conditions. If you didn't your arm may hurt worse or hurt for a longer period of time or never completely heal.  This is the same for grief.  You can't hurry up the process.  You have to allow yourself to heal naturally and go through all of the stages and emotions of grief.  If you don't you will still continue to be broken and prolong the process.  This does not mean that later on the road you will not cry or feel sad because of infertility. Just remember that grieving, healing, and coping are all different.  If you try to quicken the healing process just to "get over it" you are just hurting yourself, so please allow yourselves to feel the pain.  I know it is hard. Just know that I pray for all of you who are hurting.

Dixie Chicks "So Hard"

It helps to know you aren't the only one. This song really lifted me up today.

It is still rough...

Yesterday I started my first full-time semester in college. I was nervous since I had gotten my associates degree online.  I wasn't sure if I was ready, especially with still grieving and crying practically every day.  I thought it would help keep my mind off of things, but nope.  I had signed up for institute with my favorite instructor and as soon as we started to sing the hymn I started crying.  I sat in the back so no one noticed and I was able to keep the tears from continuing to flow for the rest of the hour, but after class I sat down with my instructor and told him what was going on and bursted into tears.  I was really embarrased.  I really hate crying in front of people.  I don't know why I thought the darkness I was in would suddenly disappear because I was busy with school.  I didn't realize that dealing with infertility you have to take it one hour at a time.  There are moments when I am fine and sometimes even filled with some hope, but then somehow a darkness creeps in and brings me down.  At this point I am so sick of being sad.  I am sick of one moment being fine and the next being a mess.  It's embarassing.  It's draining.  Every one says things will get better as time passes.  So far it hasn't happened. 

Adoption Meeting*

Originally posted Saturday, January 8, 2011.

And the adoption emotional rollercoaster begins:

We met with out adoption caseworker on Thursday and I have been trying to digest it ever since.  I thought I would be just as excited as the day before when I got the phone call saying that our meeting got bumped up, but instead I left the meeting dazed and overwhelmed.

As I sit here and stare at the pile of paperwork we need to fill out in order to just "pre-qualify" I am deeply saddened at the symbolism of it all.  At this moment this is how I feel:

Bringing a child into this world is the most sacred and precious event any two people can do.  From the beginning of time, we have been commanded to multiply and replenish the Earth.  And as women, we have been naturally instilled that one day we will get pregnant and have children.  It is our duty and a beautiful gift that Heavenly Father has entrusted us with.  What could be more sacred than conceiving a child and having it grow inside you for safe keeping until he/she is ready to brought into this world?  You and their Father essentially gave life.  Can you think of anything more sacred than that? 

To sit here and have to complete paperwork so that I may be come a Mother and Jake a Father, indeed is very unnatural, but sometimes a necessary means and a different way in starting a family.  Please don't take this as me downplaying adoption.  I love adoption.  I believe that every adoption is a miracle and that it is beautiful.  I know that in it's own way it holds a different ora of sacredness.  It is just right now, I am deeply saddened that the sacredness of becoming a Mother naturally is taken away by the task of paperwork.  How is it fair that someone else gets to decide that we are worthy to be parents?  How is it fair that the fate of us being called Mom and Dad is in the hands of someone else?  I understand that if I were a birthmother I would want all of the steps taken to ensure that I was placing my child in a good home.  I get that.  But in my shoes I am hurt that a drug addict can have a baby without consulting anyone and we can't without doing paperwork and being studied to see if we are fit parents. 

My heart aches as Jake and I have begun to realize that we may actually never have our own biological child.  I can not begin to explain the hurt that resignates knowing that we may not get to experience the 9 months of watching my stomach grow or ever having a child that looks or acts like us.  I didn't want to give up hope, but with adopting it makes the situation even more real that I cannot have what others can.  And hope may one day lead to disappointment.  I still know in my heart that our baby is waiting for us to one day adopt him or her.  I know that in the end this will be all be worth it.  My eyes well up with tears whenever I think about how one day we will be sealed in the temple with our child and I will know that that pile of paperwork and the adoption process is just a minor speedbump in the road.  Everything is going to be okay.

I am so excited!!*

Originally posted Janaury 5, 2011.

Where do I begin?  I wish all of you could feel what I am feeling right now.  I am not making any sense.  This would have made more sense if had been blogging my thoughts this whole time, but I haven't so now I am just babbling.  Okay, compose yourself, Lana.

So today started off as a sad day for me.  For some reason, EVERYTHING was reminding of what happened last month and I kept getting choked up throughout the day.  Luckily, Jake's work day ended fairly early and he came home and surprised me with a very deserving Wild Cherry Pepsi. (I haven't had caffine in over a year and have been really craving it!) Anyway, it was nice to talk to him and just explain my sadness to someone.  Afterwards, I was able to pull myself together enough to start doing household chores and my phone rang.  It wasn't a number I recognized, which normally I don't answer, but for some reason I just did.  It was LDS Family Services calling to speak to me about an adoption orientation that I had signed up for.  First, let me explain that I had been inquiring about the adoption process and was told that I could set up an appointment to meet with someone one on one to talk to about adoption.  So I went at the end of December to LDSFS to try to set up an appointment, but the secretary there said that they have one meeting a month which they call their "orientation" which she could sign me up for.  It was set for January 20th. I was disappointed that we couldn't meet with someone earlier and tried to ask for paperwork, so we could get the process started, but she insisted that we had to go to this meeting.  I can't explain the urgency I have for getting this done quickly, and I am not very aggressive at trying to get what I want, so I dropped it and signed up for the orientation. 

Soooo, now on to 5 minutes ago.  I thought the lady from LDSFS was calling to confirm our attendance for the 20th, but she actually called to say that the orientation was cancelled and that an adoption counselor could meet with us one on one!  (Which is what I preferred because I am not much of a group person.)  And guess when?  TOMORROW!!!!  I know that it is just an informational meeting, but I am soooo excited to get this started.  It feels so right!  As I was speaking to the lady I felt the spirit so strongly telling me that "everything is going to work out".   Oh how I needed that!

I know this may seem all of a sudden and as if we are moving very quickly, but I assure you that I know that we are suppose to adopt.  I recieved confirmation a few days after having surgery and trust me when I say that as I was praying this was not the answer I had been looking for during that prayer.  (I will get more into that story later.) 

I know in my heart that Heavenly Father's plan for us is to adopt. 

Is there a euphemism for infertility?*

Originally posted on Wednesday, December 22, 2010.

Tonight is not a good night.  It is one of those nights where I just want to throw things, yell, and ugly cry.  This is actually the first time I have felt this way over our loss.  Up until now, I think I have been handling/coping with all this better than I thought I would.  I didn’t think that this would be my reaction after my doctor’s appointment today.  This was the first time I have talked to my surgeon since I had surgery and as she walked into the room and said that she wanted to discuss my infertility plans with me I almost lost it.  Infertility.

To hear it from a doctor made it real.  Of course, deep down inside I knew what was going on was infertility, but I didn’t want to admit it because in my mind I still have been hoping that one day I’ll be able to conceive a healthy baby.  That’s what has made these past two weeks bearable.  As I sat there in the doctor’s office listening to her talk about in vitro and endometriosis, I felt like I was living in the scene of one of those bad Lifetime made-for-TV movies.   As I was choking back tears and trying to swallow the lump that had formed in the back of my throat I thought to myself: Is this really happening? Am I really infertile? Why me?  The more she spoke, the more my hopes of one day bringing a little Jake or little Lana into this world was dimming.  She described how there was no cure for endometriosis and that the growth could be controlled only through birth control, but if I was going to continue to “try” or do in vitro, we couldn’t go that route.  She said that since she removed quite a bit of the endometriosis that although we have a very slim chance of conceiving, that if we do want to the prime opportunity would be to do it now, or sooner than later because since we aren’t doing anything to control the endometriosis, it could come back stronger and cause more damage to my other reproductive organs, which would make the slim chance turn to no chance.  She said she would never tell a patient that could never conceive because miracles can happen and if I did get pregnant I would have to come in right away to run tests and ultra sounds to determine where the baby was.  If it is another ectopic, they would need to remove it right away so it won’t burst the tube.  My mind is reeling at this moment.  We may have to start trying soon if we want to have any chance at all?  What?  If I get pregnant, I won't even be able to enjoy it because I'll be so stressed that it is an ectopic and if it is I may have to go through all of this emotional let down again? 

I don’t think I could handle this again so soon or at all.  But the thought of us never being able to bring a child into this world the natural way is such a painful feeling I can’t put it into words.  I thought I was okay with adopting.  In fact, yesterday my sister-in-law and I were just talking about us adopting and I was so excited and so hopeful, but today I feel hopeless.  I think it is because reality is starting to set in that we may never have our own children.  I have been hanging on to that sliver of hope that someday we will, but there has to be a time where I let that go.  I don’t know how long that will take, but this is all still so new.  It’s only been 2 weeks since I found out of my infertility issues, but for some reason I am convinced that I have to be super women and be okay and moved on by now.  On top of all this, after we left the doctor’s office, we went to our post office box to check our mail and there was a stack of medical bills in there from my surgery.  Before, I was hopeful that the means would be provided for us financially, but after opening one bill after another and seeing each total in the thousands, my heart sank even further.  Tomorrow will be a better day, but tonight I just want to sit in a dark corner and curse at the wall. (Very un-mormon like I know, but it's the truth.)

Posting

Before I started this blog I posted my infertility feelings on my personal blog, so I am going to copy some of them over to this one.  So if you are following both my blogs, postings that are posted on both blogs will have an *asterisk* at the end of the post title.

Our Story

I am sure our story starts like everyone else’s.  My husband and I met at Institute (bible study, for those who don’t know), fell in love, got married, and thought we would ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after.  We have been married for six years and in those six years; of course, we talked about starting a family.  For me, it was never the right time.  I wanted to be married for at least five years before we had our first child because I wanted to make sure my hubby and I had time to ourselves first while we were young.  I wanted to have a college degree.  I wanted to be financially stable, emotionally prepared, spiritually overloaded, etc, etc, etc.  The list went on.  As we hit our five year anniversary and we were no where I thought we should be in our life to have children, I realized there is NEVER going to be a right time according to the unrealistic standards that I set.  I was baby hungry and tried to convince myself that we weren’t in the right circumstance to have children, but Heavenly Father had a plan and I listened to the Spirit and my husband and I started trying.  It was no easy task.  We had one issue after another health wise trying to conceive.  And when I say health wise, I don’t mean either of us having any health issues that would indicate that I could not have kids.  It had been about a year of trying and nothing.  Our six year anniversary came and still no baby.  We prayed and fasted and the month after our anniversary (so this November 2010) I found out I was pregnant.  When I found out, I couldn’t believe it.  I was in shock.  I was thrilled.  It felt like a miracle. (At this point, we had no had idea how much of a miracle it was.)

The day I found out, I had a million emotions running through my head.  I went to the doctor to confirm my pregnancy and then went on a mission to find a creative way to tell my hubby.  I must mention that I have dreamed of this day ever since I was a little girl.  I wasn’t one that planned her wedding as a young gal, I was more excited about how I would tell my hubby, family, and friends I was pregnant.  Anyway, back to the story.  I told my hubby and he was more shocked than I was.  The look on his face after he figured out my clues and the moments afterward that we sat silently in joyful bliss was the best moment of my life.  All those days of wondering and dreaming how it would feel to say, “I’m pregnant!” and to share that special bond with my hubby was finally here and it was worth every second.

The week following the great news, we started to digest the fact that we were going to parents.  My husband started calling the baby “Peanut” and that is how we referred to it.  Well, my husband was convinced it was a girl, but of course I was too early for it to even be a boy or girl.  I was already attached.  I think as a women once you find out your pregnant, an instant bond is shared. 

My world came crashing down a week after discovering I was pregnant.   Early Sunday morning on December 5^th, 2010 I woke up at two in the morning to use the bathroom.  My hubby was still up watching TV and as I used the restroom I saw blood.  I was groggy from just waking up, but as soon as I saw it, it was as if the wind had been knocked out of my stomach.  I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t move.  I knew it was bad.  It seemed like hours had passed before my husband walked in the room and saw me frozen and in shock.  That is when I started hyperventilating.  I sat down and started bawling.  During that time I started googling to see if I was having a miscarriage.  The signs I read online didn’t seem to indicate I was having a miscarriage and then I read that some women bleed during their first trimester and the baby still comes out fine.  That made me feel a little better.  My husband made me go to bed because after all it was 2 in the morning and what could we do.  I wasn’t in any physical pain.  So I tried to fall asleep, but the whole time I laid in bed I was so worried.  Somehow I feel asleep and when I woke up agonizing over the “what ifs” and the not knowing I started to have severe stomach pain.  I thought it was in my head and I tried to ignore it, but I knew I wasn’t making it up.  The pain would come and go, which made me hesitate in any further action such as going to the hospital.  But the paranoid first time mother in me decided on being cautious.  I asked my husband if we could go to urgent care and he asked if he could jump in the shower real quick.  I wasn’t in immense pain at the moment so I agreed and then I figured I should probably get ready, too.  While I was showering the emotional reality of it all got the best of me and tears just came.  That didn’t last too long because the worst stomach pain I have ever felt hit me.  I couldn’t stand up.  I made it out of the shower and laid on the floor.  I knew at that moment something was very wrong.  It lasted a few minutes and then it went away.  I got up and prayed and prayed to Heavenly Father to help protect the baby.  That he would bless that he/she would be okay.  That we would still be able to have a healthy baby in August. 

We got to urgent care and we got in right away.  As soon as we got back to the room, the nurse said, “I didn’t want to say this to you out in the waiting area for privacy reasons, so I brought you back here.”  I knew at the moment they weren’t going to be able to help me.  She told us of the possible scenarios that could be happening and that urgent care had no equipment that could help me determine the cause of my problems.  She urged me to go the Emergency Room and my hubby and I looked at each other knowing that the ER is extremely expensive.  As we walked out she asked me if were going to the ER and I said, “I think so.”  She stopped me and convinced me to go.  She said her sister had an ectopic pregnancy and almost died from it and that although the ER is expensive that it does not outweigh the cost of my life.

Off to the ER we went.  At the ER, the doctor told me what tests he was going to run in order to determine what was going on.  He said first a pelvic exam and then if necessary an ultra sound.  My pelvic exam turned out to be just fine which made me anxious to be released to go home with a diagnosis of a “threatened miscarriage” and excited for my return back to the hospital in 9 months.  However, the doctor ordered an ultra sound.  The ultra sound took a really long time and the technician kept coming in and out the room and doing more images, which at the time I should have known was a bad sign, but I was so tired of being at the ER for so long that at this point I didn’t think anything of it.  As I was being rolled down the hall to the ER wing of the hospital I saw my doctor coming towards my gurney where he gave me the news.  I had an ectopic pregnancy.  The baby was growing in my left fallopian tube and not in my uterus.  He said the ultra sound showed blood in my abdomen and that I would have to have surgery right away.  He had called a surgeon in to take over my case.  At this point, I was still naive; I didn’t understand what an ectopic pregnancy was and still believed I would still have this baby.  The surgeon arrived and explained everything.  She said there is no way to save the baby.  There isn’t a way to take the baby and put it in the uterus.  Science has not yet seemed to figure out this procedure.  She indicated that the chance for me to have another ectopic was high because I had already had one, but she has had many other women go on to have healthy babies even after an ectopic.  This gave me hope.  She told my husband that if everything went according to plan the surgery would take an hour at the most. Two and a half hours later Jake finally heard from her with news that the surgery ended up being more complex than anticipated.  She explained that as the baby grew in my fallopian tube it got too big and it busted the tube.  This is the reason why I had internal bleeding.  She said that there was over half of liter of blood that she removed out of my stomach and that she had to remove the left fallopian tube.  She continued to explain that she discovered that I had severe endometriosis and that she had spent an hour trying to remove as much scar tissue as she could.  She was unable to get it all and said that because of the endometriosis my right fallopian tube is badly damaged.  This means that if we were lucky enough to get pregnant again, it is highly likely that it would end up being an ectopic pregnancy as well.  She said it was a miracle we got pregnant in the first place and if we wanted to have kids in the future, that in vitro fertilization would possibly be the only option.

I was devastated to find out that the possibility for us to conceive a baby to full term was slim.  After all of the hoping and praying that the Lord would entrust us with taking care of one of his children we thought our prayers were finally answered.  I thought we had faced the biggest hurdle, which was getting pregnant.  I was prepared that day to face a miscarriage and I can accept being diagnosed with endometriosis.  What I was not prepared and still can’t believe is that in vitro is our only option now.  Game-changer.  Knowing that we have to start all over again, I can only describe the feeling as heart aching.

The days after the surgery were a blur to me.  It didn’t help that I was on painkillers which made me drowsy.  I was sad that we had lost our baby, but the reality of the situation had not truly dawned on me.   I kept waiting for the anger to set in, but that first week it didn’t.  I remember being so focused on how we would pay for in vitro and trying to plan it all out.  I wanted a baby so bad that I carried and looked like us, but my plan and Heavenly Father’s plan is not always the same.  A few days after surgery I prayed, which I am sad to admit was the first time I prayed after that awful day.  I am not exactly sure what the purpose of that prayer was, but a very clear firm voice said to me, “In vitro is not going to work.  I told you to adopt.”

Dear Blog World,

This is completely not like me to share my private thoughts and feelings to complete strangers, let alone people I do know personally.  However, I decided to start this blog as a way of coping with infertility.  Four weeks ago, I found out that we couldn't have kids the natural way. During those four weeks the only solace I found was through other blogs on infertility and adoption.  Thank you for those who are willing to be so open, so that others may be comforted.  So if you are reading this because you need comfort I hope you find some and I am so sorry that you need comfort because you can't have what everyone else can.