The Scarlet I

I always sit down at the computer and write a blog when I have significant news to share from a doctor’s appointment.  It may be hard for others to understand why I write such personal things in these blogs and share them with everyone.  I think it’s because it’s a type of catharsis for me.  I can get all of my emotions out and off my chest.  It’s a coping mechanism in some ways. So, here I am at approximately 6:30 staring at my computer with a red face full of tears because the doctor’s office called me at 4:53 to say that I am not pregnant…again.  I went in at 9:00 this morning for my blood work, but because of the wreck on the interstate, it took all day to get my results.

I had such high hopes this time.  So many people were praying for us.  I just knew it was perfect timing, but I was wrong.

Sometimes I feel like I have a scarlet I tattooed on my chest. You may not see it, but it’s there.  I’m the infertile girl, the one who is constantly trying to convince herself that she isn’t broken. Some people avoid conversations with me.  Some people look at me with pity in their eyes.  Some people try to avoid that topic and pretend like it doesn’t exist.  Some people want to talk about it each time they see me, in grocery store lines and at the mall, random places.  

These days I feel like I have no identity.  There are lots of women who have chosen not to have children and others who never married and had to let that dream fade away.  I am not trying to belittle them in any way.  But, I have no identity.  Children give you purpose.  You become mother and friend.  You become the ballpark mom who hangs out with the other ballpark moms.  All of your friends have children, and your children hang out with each other.  You belong to this close knit circle of friends, the mom club.  It’s such a big deal to people.  The minute you get married people begin asking you when you are going to have children, and it never ends.  All your friends get married and begin having children, but you don’t.  Like I’ve said before, we just don’t fit in.  There is no social circle for us.  I don’t want to be childless.  I don’t want it to just be me and Richard.

For some women, living a childless life is a choice they’ve made, but I can’t do that.  I’ve had two dreams my whole life.  At the age of fifteen I felt like my calling was to become a singer, a contemporary Christian artist. I dreamed for years of being a singer, but now I’m too old.  I realize that dream is beginning to fade away, and I’ve had to let go of that.  And just like many other girls, I began dreaming at a very young age of being a mother some day. That was all I ever wanted.  I dreamed of falling in love and marrying and having precious children.  That was one reason why I didn’t pursue my master’s and doctorate in music.  I didn’t want to move away and be in school forever.  I wanted to get married and start a family.  I will not, I can not let this dream fade away as well.   

Last week, around the 6^th day after the IUI, I started spotting.  It happens every single time.  I was devastated.  I just knew I wasn’t pregnant.  I cried all night.  I couldn’t sleep, and I stayed up most of the night talking to God.  The next day I went over to a friend’s house to swim.  I normally don’t talk to anyone about what’s going on until after my pregnancy test, but for some reason I started talking to my friend about how I didn’t think I was pregnant.  We had a long talk that day.  I was feeling discouraged and wondering if it was time to throw in the towel.  I talked about how many times we have tried and how many years we’ve been doing this.  My friend told me that she didn’t think it was time for me to give up, and we talked about some of the options.  That night, I lay in bed thinking about our options and what we should do.  The next morning, I woke up to a text from another friend.  Now, keep in mind that I haven’t discussed any of my frustrations with her.  I haven’t talked to her in a month, but out of the blue she sent me this text:

 

                        “So I went to a worship concert with Kari Jobe and Christine Cane,

                          and it was just heaven and spirit filled. Well, they talked about

                          how Joshua walked around the walls with these people for 6 days.

                          They never saw progress.  They never saw a brick fall.  They never

                          saw a crack come in them, but yet they NEVER gave up.  They didn’t

                          quit.  They didn’t stop at lap 1 or 4 or 5 or even 6.  But then day 7 comes,

                          and with all their trust, with all their faith, with all their strength, they

                          went around again like the Lord said, and then it happened.  They fell.

                          The promise was there.  They gained the land that the Lord had promised

                          them. And I just felt the Lord telling me to say to you that you can not

                          give up.  You may not see progress.  You may not even see a hint of light

                          in your situation, but the Lord is bigger, stronger, faithful in all things, so

                          don’t give up. You never know when that last lap is. You’re so close.

 

                          Also, Christine got a word from the Lord about women who can’t have

                          babies, and she prayed for the promise to come.  This was after the Lord

                          had already put you on my heart.  So she made them stand and she

                          prayed over them.  I stood in your place.  Hold on to hope. It’s coming.”

 

What do you think about that?  Did it give you chills?  It gave me chills.  I woke up that Friday morning and picked my phone up like I do every morning and that text was on it.  She had no idea what I had been dealing with, no idea what I was contemplating, no idea I was considering giving up, and she wrote that.  I don’t know about you, but I believe God is trying to tell me something. 

 

No, I am not pregnant.  I’ve had to come to terms with that.  Yes, I have done eight IUI’s over a seven-year period, and they have all failed.  Yes, I am getting older and am running out of money and time, but I still don’t think God is ready for me to throw in the towel.  I’m not going to lie to you and say that after reading that text I just started smiling and being happy for the rest of the week.  I have wrestled with frustration and questioned God.  I have cried.  I have held on to hope that maybe I was pregnant.  It’s because we are about to deal with the greatest burden we’ve had to deal with.   

We meet with the doctor on August 12^th.  Richard and I have decided that we want to try one more IUI.  It will be very costly since we have no medicines left.  We are looking at around $5,000 for that treatment, but that is still a little more manageable than the alternatives.  This will be the last IUI we do.  If it doesn’t work, we will do IVF.  I have no idea how we will afford it.  On average, it costs between $15,000-$20,000 for one cycle.  For some people it is a little cheaper, but my insurance is maxed out on meds, and we will have to pay for those on our own.  Most people I know have had to do at least three cycles.  There is no way we can do that unless a miracle happens, so Richard and I have decided to do the IUI and then take out a loan for IVF.  If IVF doesn’t work, we will pay that loan off and then adopt.  Adoption on an infant in the states through an adoption agency is $25,000.   Of course, all of this is contingent upon what our doctor says, but he told me in our last meeting that we could do another IUI. As you can imagine, we feel like we have the weight of the world on our shoulders.  Trying to figure out how to pay for all of this is very stressful, but if God doesn’t want me to give up, then he will make a way when there seems to be no way.  This is not the road I wanted to take, but God has a different plan.   

 

Here is a little analogy that might put it into perspective for you.  Imagine being told that you have a terminal disease and only have a couple of years left to live. The clock is ticking.  Then imagine the doctor telling you that there is a medicine that could possibly save your life but there are no promises or guarantees, but your insurance will not cover it and the costs are astronomical.  That may be a poor analogy, but it's the best I can come up with.  You would do whatever you had to do to save your life, but you would worry about the financial burden, possibility of losing your home and saddling you and your family with debt.  Though we aren't faced with death.  The clock is ticking, and a possibility is within our reach.

As always, we need prayers.  If you have fundraising ideas, send them our way, or if you just feel like getting rid of any excess cash you have, we’ll be glad to take it off your hands.  We are trusting God and expecting a miracle, but everyday is a trial.  And, learning to trust God completely is no easy task.  Fear and anxiety creep in from time to time. Thanks again for your love and support.  We appreciate it.