When you're going through Hell, keep on goin'

 I am tired. Just to-the-bone-dead-dog tired. Of everything. I am sitting at the bottom of the pit of despair and all I can see is all that is wrong in my life. I can’t point to one simple thing and say, “There! That is the one thing that is going right in my life. The one thing that doesn’t want to make me rip all my hair out, put on a hair shirt, and lock myself away from the world.” I try not to think about it too much, but the sad reality is I am not happy with where I am right now in my life. I want more than this daily up-hill struggle. I want to be happy.
     In terms of infertility, I think I am trying to distance myself emotionally because for so long I was living in the unhealthy cycle of hope and despair. I have not given up, mostly because I don’t think I can completely give up the tiniest sliver of hope that we might become parents, but it is not my primary focus. I don’t know if my singular tenacity to this infertility battle is what proved to be the catalyst in our big relationship blow-out, yet I can’t assume it was not part of the issue. So, I am shifting my focus. Now the infertility battle is more a peripheral issue, with my marriage (and thus my husband) being my primary focal point.
     This past month, after the catastrophe, Flaco refused to use the rubbers. I was bewildered, thinking we had agreed this was not the time to be getting pregnant – not until we cleared things up between the two of us. Using my clever interrogation skills, I finally got as close to the point as I was going to get with the evasive Flaco. He said he never really agreed that we should stop trying and he never said he didn’t want to have a baby. In other words, he was holding on to the hope that we might still get pregnant unaided. Prior to the Big Bang, Flaco had declared he did not want to spend any more money on treatments, which I took to mean he was giving up. I guess not.
     I decided after seeing the infertility doctor and feeling so pressured to do IVF, that we would give the metformin three months to whip my ovaries into shape. This is month three. My ovaries are as stubbornly encased in cysts as ever and the spotting I have right now will soon turn into my period (as it does month after month). So, the next step is for us to see the doctor where my mom works, who has agreed to try some alternative methods with us. I just need to get my medical chart sent over to him. I suppose I should do that this week, since Aunt Flo is immanent.
     We are trying to save for some other treatments with the infertility office, but I don’t really love this office. After the hsg we got a hefty bill from the hospital. I called the doctors office for some help and the woman in the billing department was so disdainful so curt with me, she made me feel like we shouldn’t even bother because we weren’t wealthy enough for their office. Maybe it’s just me, but shouldn’t EVERYONE who works in an infertility clinic be sensitive to the suffering of the couples they are dealing with – including the dam billing people? So, I am not chopping at the bit to get back to that office. I did like the doctor and a few of the nurses, but I also do not feel like constantly explaining why IVF is not an option for us at the moment. This whole thing is hard enough, must they make it more difficult by slathering on the guilt and rubbing our noses in our financial deficits?
     I wish I could see an end in sight for this ordeal. I wish I knew how our story ends. But I cannot see and I do not know. At this point I can only trudge on, putting one tired foot in front of the other. Slowly marking the passing of time and hoping I don’t lose my mind before I see the results that I want. I long to be one of those bright and bubbly creatures; one who can truly take the lemons of life and stir up a delicious pitcher of lemonade. But, I just don’t know how. My only hope is simply to endure.    

Serenity Prayer

God grant me the Serenity
To accept the things I cannot change
Courage to change the things I can
And wisdom to know the difference
     I was listening to Joyce Myer (if you don’t know who she is, check out her website at (www.joycemyer.org) this morning and she brought up the Serenity prayer. The Serenity prayer had become somewhat tainted in my eyes from when I worked at a drug and alcohol facility, which touted “spirituality” and belief in some “higher power” but lacked any real meaning in attempting to appease everyone. But, this morning when Joyce was talking about the Serenity prayer and accepting those things we cannot change, it struck a cord with me. She was talking to me and she was talking about infertility and this latest chaotic episode in my life. She went on to state that accepting the things we cannot change does not mean we should give up trying to change them, but at the moment we need to admit that it is not something we can change, but that we must rely on God to change it for us. And, as if patiently waiting were not hard enough, we must also learn to enjoy our lives while we are waiting. Joyce also talked a lot about being “stuck” at some point in your life; stuck and unable to move on because of some past hurt or some issue. She asked her audience (I was listening from my computer, but this was a pre-recorded presentation she had given) if they were ready, truly ready, to be healed because many times, when we are stuck it gets to the point that we don’t want to give up our affliction because it has come to define us. Seriously. She was talking to me.
     Feeling stuck and feeling like this dam infertility has come to define me, is certainly how I feel. And I have been anything but accepting about this unwanted condition. First, I decided to look up the definition of “serenity.” According to dictionary.com serenity is the state or quality of being serene, calm, or tranquil; sereneness. Synonyms: composure, calm, peacefulness, peace. That is not how I would describe myself in the last year, if not two years. I would actually use the antonym, agitation, to describe myself at this point. Then, I decided to look up the definition for the word “accept.” The definition was more lengthy, but what I found to be the most appropriate was; to take or receive (something offered); receive with approval or favor, to accommodate or reconcile oneself to. Synonyms: concede, acknowledge. To reconcile oneself to – this is how I understand the word “accept” in the Serenity prayer. Acceptance, in my mind, does not mean agreement, but realizing that the situation is what it is and making that ok for the time being. So, this brought up the following questions for me: 1) How do I accept something that I am not okay with? And 2) How do I accept something but still not like it? This lead me back to the first line in the prayer “ God grant me the ability to accept what I cannot change.” The very first line is acknowledging that this is not something that I like, not something that I agree with, and therefore, I must lean on God for the ability to reconcile myself with this situation. Reconcile had many definitions as well, but the synonym I found to best describe my understanding of the word in this context was “harmonize.” I am harmonizing my desire with God’s will and it is not something I can change by arguing or whining or pitying myself. Yet, God will give me the ability to be patient, to wait for Him, and to simply accept the current situation. Nowhere in that first sentence does it say it will be easy-peasy-lemon-squeezie. So, the thing I cannot change right now is infertility (well, and Flaco, but I haven’t wrapped my head around this issue yet, so I will leave it out of the discussion). I cannot change my childlessness. I am asking God for the serenity, the calmness, the peacefulness, to accept this “thing” which I cannot change. I don’t want this condition and while I believe there are things that can be done to change it (such as infertility treatments), they are not possible for me to do right now. I cannot change my infertility. I am waiting for God to heal me. Feeling like I have waited long enough or that other people are less deserving are getting what I am waiting for (a baby) does not help me. I need the serenity (tranquility) to wait patiently for God to answer my prayers. It does not matter how many friends have had babies before me. I must patiently wait for God to fulfill His promise (if in deed, He has promised me a child, which I choose to believe He has). But, here’s the rub. I HATE WAITING. I am not a very patient person (just ask my husband) and I am from a generation where things are “instant” – immediate gratification.
     So, this brings me to another question: How do I live a happy joyful life while I wait? When I thought this question, a hymn I remember singing at the church I attended when I was a teenager, popped into my head.

     I will enter His courts with thanksgiving in my heart
     I will enter His courts with praise
     I will say, “This is the day that the Lord has made.”
     I will rejoice for He has made me glad
     He has made me glad, He has made me glad
     I will rejoice for He has made me glad, glad, glad (2x)
     God wants me to have an awesome life. He sent Jesus, to die for me, not so that I can have a life of misery and strife, but so that I can truly live. God wants me to use the talents He has given me and to lean on Him for the talents that I lack. God wants me to live a life of abundance. But, He also understands that with the beautiful, fragrant roses, there are also thorns. Thorns in life are obstacles, road-blocks that we must find a way to go over, under, around, or through (like Grover and salon doors on Sesame Street). I am still having a hard time reconciling (or accepting) this belief with the pain of infertility. The two concepts seem mutually exclusive to me. In my mind abundance does not equal infertility. And infertility does not equal joy. So, given my finite wisdom, I must rely on God to give me this ability to accept that I am meant to have an abundant life, but that I also need to work my way past the roadblock of infertility in my journey. Joyce Myer talks a lot about the Israelites and their 40 year journey in the wilderness when the journey should have taken something like 19 days. She calls this the “wilderness mentality.” Infertility has lead me into the wilderness. It has sapped me of my faith and belief and joy. As I wander the wilderness, I too turn bitter and complain to God about my situation, rather than thank Him for the manna and the water that I would surely perish without. Perhaps I am inches away from my Promised Land. Perhaps my journey has only just begun and it will take me another 40 years to figure out how to get outta here. I’m not sure I still really understand how I can be joyful when my heart feels so damaged. I don’t know how I will confess to living a life of abundance when I feel like there is so much lacking and missing in my life. Just as the patients learning to battle with their addictions were told, I must take it one day at a time. Right now, for today, I will rejoice in the Lord, for He has made me glad. I will praise and thank God for the simple things; just for being me. And maybe tomorrow I will tackle a bigger thorn. . . .

3rd Anniversary

     Tomorrow, Flaco and I will celebrate 3 years of marriage. Tonight we were supposed to meet with Pastor Ramon and his wife, but Flaco had to work because someone else took some time off. Flaco might have off tomorrow, but if not he will work for two weeks straight, 120 hours with no day off. Sigh. We might see them tomorrow night, but I have a meeting so I'm thinking we won't see them until next week. Sigh, again.
     Flaco and I have been doing ok. We've been talking a lot more and being gentle with one another. Flaco still wants two animals gone. He still wants a truck. I try to ignore the requests as best as I can, hoping he will change his mind. I am not sure how we will celebrate tomorrow, maybe just dinner. I'm just thankful that we have been making progress and that things are getting better between us. Cheers!

Mother's Day

     Ah, Mother’s Day. Never has there been a more depressing holiday for an infertile. I was thinking today, how I have dealt with past Mother’s Days. The first year we were trying, I felt a little sad and jealous of a pregnant friend who was celebrating her first Mother’s Day (and, a little peeved that she was celebrating Mother’s Day when she hadn’t officially become a mother yet – but that was just sour grapes). Last year I was devastated and cried my eyes out, only after handing out carnations at a local restaurant in honor of Mother’s Day, taking my own mother out for brunch, and meeting up with her later that same day to buy baby gifts for my best friend’s up-coming shower. As I was thinking about this, I was shocked to find that I most likely will be spending this dismal day the same way as I have the past two years. I am sad. I have a pregnant friend. I won’t be buying any baby gifts yet, but I will be taking my mother out for dinner. And thinking about it this way, makes me even more depressed. Last year, I got myself through Mother’s Day by saying to myself, “This is the last Mother’s Day you will have to spend with empty arms. Surely, by next year you will have a baby!” Alas, I was only lying to myself. This year, I am just trying to focus on my mom and forget about me becoming a mother. Thus far, it is not working. Every dam flower commercial for Mother’s Day makes me bawl my eyes out.
     I know, right now I am not supposed to be thinking about having a baby. I am supposed to be concentrating on mending my relationship with my husband. Things are improving right now. We went out last night to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, even though, as Flaco put it, we aren’t Mexican. It was nice. We flirted with each other and talked (as much as we could over the loud live DJ) and had a nice dinner. The night was perfectly beautiful and we capped it off with a romp in the sack before bed. Which, of course, brought up the condom conundrum. It basically boils down to Flaco thinking things are fine. He said last night, “We are both here and we are both working to make changes,” as if that is all it takes. Perhaps he is suffering from the same thing that ails me – how the hell do you stop trying? I can’t turn off my desire to have a baby. I have tried putting it out of my mind, but it always finds it’s way back in. I feel like this struggle is beginning to define my life and not in a positive way. What steps can I take to mentally stop, even if physically we stop trying? (The condom only lasted for about half way and was long gone by the big finish).
     I think there should be an un-Mother's Day for all those women who desire to be mothers but their body's are conspiring against them. I wish for all infertiles that next Mother's Day we will be celebrating as "real" mother's instead of mothers-in-waiting. For now, I guess we have to just grin and bear it. . . .
     

Cinco de Mayo

      Things are improving, bit by bit. At least we are not fighting and both living at home. Flaco has still been pushing his crazy ideas of getting a truck (which we cannot afford) and that I get rid of one cat and one dog (I had someone interested in the dog and they backed out – someone might be interested in the cat, but I haven’t heard anything yet). I don’t want to give the animals away because I care for them. They are part of my family, even if Flaco thinks that it’s crazy to care for an animal so much (this is just another example of the differences in our cultures – in Nicaragua, the people are simply too poor to monetarily take care of animals especially animals that don’t pull their own weight like dogs and cats, although to be perfectly honest, there is an awful lot of animal abuse in that country – here in the US we treat our beloved pets like people, so it’s a drastic difference). I have been dragging my feet, hoping Flaco will change his mind. I think the truck issue will resolve itself when he goes someplace to buy one and the dealer tells him “no” because they can see how close to the edge we live. At least, that is my hope.
     In other areas, we have re-consummated our marriage by becoming intimate again. However . . . . Flaco refused to use the condom. He said he thinks there is only a 10-15% chance that we could get pregnant and he is willing to take that chance. I asked, “But, what if we do? Then what?” His response was, “So what? Why is that a problem?” I was flabbergasted. I asked if he was sure because of us needing to work on our marriage and not be distracted by other things. He said that he knows we will change to “make it work” and that he doesn’t believe a baby would make things harder on us. I would like to drink whatever he is drinking!!! I mean, am I wrong in thinking this is not a good idea? I know that last night we are safe, since it would be too early in the cycle, but it’s not a given! To think that after 2+ years of trying so hard to get pregnant, I am now worried that we might get pregnant at the wrong time! God has a seriously demented sense of humor! But, this situation has me thinking that perhaps last week’s blow up had more to do with our infertility struggles than was immediately obvious.
     On more than one occasion I have lamented Flaco’s seemingly disinterest in getting pregnant. I have noted his indifference and emotional stoicism while I fall to pieces. Our last serious conversation before “The Event” Flaco told me he doesn’t want to spend any more money on infertility treatments. Maybe part of the blow up stemmed from Flaco holding all of these emotions inside. I know that he cannot remain as unaffected as he would like to have the world believe. And now, his actions seem to reveal his desire to be a father in a way I have never seen before. He has never expressed feelings of inadequacy or un-manliness, but something about the way he said last night, that he wouldn’t be unhappy if we got pregnant now in all this turmoil, showed me more of what he was thinking and feeling than I have known in over two years. Maybe I am reading too much into this. Or it could be my women’s intuition understanding how my husband has been struggling with this immense issue. While I struggled more “publically” Flaco has been grieving and hurting underneath. His machismo hasn’t let him release these feelings until he blew up. I know that Flaco wants to be a father. Right after we got married, Flaco hid my birth control pills because he wanted us to have a baby. He wanted a baby a month after we started dating (which freaked me out, let me tell you!!!)!!! So, that has never been in question. And even though tests show that Flaco seems to be ok in terms of infertility, the accumulative feelings of disappointment surely have to have some kind of effect, no?
     So, here we are in this strange new place. It’s hard to really pin down how I am feeling right now because my emotions have been bouncing all over the place. I am thankful that Flaco met with Pastor Ramon, but I am still sad/angry/annoyed at Flaco’s insistence on me giving up the animals. I am glad that we are talking and that we are trying to repair our relationship, but I am worried that “this” could happen again or worse. And waiting on the sidelines we have other peripheral issues such as, Flaco having to make amends to my parents and sister because they are still pretty peeved. And our financial issues are still hanging around. Plus, now we have this tug-of-war going on with contraception or conception. As our poor friends in the mid-West know too well, when it rains, it pours. . . . .   

Por Tu Maldito Amor

     Flaco saw the pastor Monday night, despite his resistance. I had called him from work (Flaco doesn’t work Monday’s and Tuesday’s) to see what time he would be meeting with Pastor Ramon. He said he didn’t know, he was going to wait for the pastor to call him. When I got home around 4:45, Flaco was going over to one the neighbor’s houses to visit for a little bit. I fell asleep on the couch (since last week, I have not been sleeping very well) and woke up when he got back. By then it was after 6. Flaco was home for a bit and decided he wanted to go to the Goodwill store. I began making dinner and Flaco left. He was gone about 20 minutes when there was a knock at the door. It was Pastor Ramon. I explained that Flaco was not home, that he had gone to the Goodwill. Pastor Ramon said he had called Flaco, but he did not answer and that he had an errand to run, but promised to check back in a little bit. Flaco came home and I asked him again when he was going to meet with the pastor. He told me the pastor had never called him. I bit my tongue, but did suggest he call the pastor. He refused. I then revealed that Pastor Ramon had come by the house looking for him and promised to return. This resulted in an argument which was only interrupted by the return of Pastor Ramon. Flaco was annoyed because he thought the house was dirty, but he sat down and talked with the pastor for about an hour or more. I sat out on the front porch with the computer and one of the dogs (Monster, the husky – well, his real name is Toby, but I call him Monster).
     When Pastor Ramon and Flaco came out of the house, Pastor Ramon said that Flaco had agreed that he wanted to work on our relationship and he agreed to get some help from the pastor and his wife (this shocked me, because the argument before Pastor Ramon arrived involved Flaco telling me how he didn’t think the pastor would help and if I wanted help I should see a therapist, but that he was fine and didn’t want any outsiders to get into the intimate parts of our relationship). I stared at Flaco, trying to ask him with my eyes if he truly agreed to this, or if he only agreed to appease the pastor. We agreed to meet next Monday (the day before our 3rd wedding anniversary) with Pastor Ramon and Pastora Gloria. As Pastor Ramon put it, “bring your boxing gloves” because we are going to hash things out and air our grievances. He suggested we try to talk to renew our friendship, but to not harp on the topics that will cause us to fight. He felt we should wait to drag that all out next Monday. And the last thing Pastor Ramon said before he left was, “Flaco is the first person that I am going to prohibit from visiting my church.” I’m not sure what this meant, so later I asked Flaco and he didn’t know either. I think perhaps Pastor Ramon wants to make a point to Flaco that his interest in helping us has nothing to do with making Flaco go to church (one of the two issues Flaco has with meeting with the pastor; Flaco thinks that pastors in general only want to make you go to their church or to give them money).
     After Pastor Ramon left, Flaco and I went to Wal-Mart to get some groceries. On the way there, we talked in the car. And it was interesting the things Flaco brought up. Interesting and good. He said that he wishes I would make plans for us to do things together. Now, when I tried to make plans in the past he would get all pissed off because I didn’t tell him about it until the time came to do whatever we were doing. Apparently, he wants me to just check with him first, to see if he has anything planned because I am thinking of planning something, and then he will be happy to go along with it. Ok, this is news to me. And it sounds perfectly reasonable. Flaco was saying he felt like sometimes we are just physical together and that there is no connection (to be fair, there has been more than one occasion in which I have demanded he have sex with me because I might be ovulating). He also asked if I could cook more things he likes so he can eat more at home. So, we talked about this and I said that I don’t mind cooking for him and for me, but maybe we should sit down and decide for the following week what it is that we want to eat and then I can make it. Flaco grew up eating freshly cooked food simply because his family never had (and still does not have) a refrigerator. He eats warm-ups or left-overs, but he would rather have freshly made food (which, don’t we all?). Growing up, my mom was a stay-at-home mom until I was 10 years old. We always had homemade meals, either made by my mother, my Nana, or me (I started cooking for the family when I was about 12 – at first just getting things started and then when I was a bit older, I planned the meals we would eat). So, we are going to start planning out the meals to make for the following week, ensuring that I have time to purchase the ingredients and then make the food, of course. This actually makes me happy because I too am sick of the same-old same-old stuff I make. And I hate cooking for only myself. So, these are two good areas to begin making changes.
     I did mention to Flaco my latest obsession of him having a girlfriend. This bothered him (as it should) and he said that he would not have come back if he was messing around with another woman, he simply would have said he found someone else and be done with it. He asked that I not bring this up again because it is hurtful and it is untrue. To me, in my heart of hearts, I did not think he was cheating or having a fling, but once the idea was introduced into my mind, it was hard to get it out. If Flaco is willing to move forward and work things out, then I must, at least, let this go for now.
     At Wal-Mart Monday night, I bought a box of condoms. On our way there, I asked Flaco if he had a preference. His response was, “I don’t want to use them because it doesn’t matter anyway. We can’t have children, so there is no point.” I told him that even though it might be slim, there is still that off chance that we could get pregnant if we don’t use some type of protection. And since we agreed (or I thought we had agreed) that now is not the time to be trying to bring a baby into the mix, it makes sense to use condoms rather than have me go back on the pill (because that will require a visit to the doctor and we would still need to use back-up methods for the first month – plus, I hate the pill and how it makes me feel mentally and emotionally). In our relationship, we have rarely used condoms mostly because I went on the pill and now we have been trying to have a baby for over two years. The few times we have used condoms it has not been effective because we end of taking it off or tearing it. Neither of us likes how it feels. But, we need to work on us right now. It hurts. I hate it. But, right now it does not make sense to procreate. We will reevaluate this decision again after this month.
     This is a slow wound to heal. I feel like a lot of the pressure has been released since Flaco met with the pastor. We have both taken the first, big, scary step. Now, we need to start mending the issues that caused the fissure in our relationship. We are taking baby steps right now. I need to learn to trust Flaco again and that will simply take time. We both need one another to hear what we have to say and to work towards agreement to build the life that we both want. I feel like now I have found all the pieces of me that were shattered and scattered about. What is left now is the monumental task of reassembling them all piece by piece.  

Where do we go from here?

     Last night I met with the pastor and his wife, alone. Flaco was working, as he is today. I told Pastor Ramon and his wife, Pastora Gloria,  the story; the one I basically told here yesterday. One of the first questions the pastor asked me was if I thought Flaco had a fling going on, or if I thought there was another woman. Pastor Ramon seems to believe this can explain the crazy choices Flaco has made lately. To my knowledge, Flaco does not have a girlfriend on the side. But, of course once the idea is introduced into a woman's mind, it is all a woman can think about. I mean, if he did/does have another woman in his life, then it stands to reason I would be the last one to know, right?
     Beyond talking about the possibility that my husband has written his own death certificate (I don't take cheating lightly. I told him before we got married that if he cheated on me I would cut "it" off), we discussed Flaco's odd demands and his seemingly unawareness of how all this has affected me and in truth, us. Flaco seems to be marching on, business as usual. I mentioned something to Flaco about this ordeal and he said he did not want to talk about it and asked that I never bring up this subject again because it will only cause a massive fight. He has swept the biggest fight of our lives together under the rug. Meanwhile, I am still so hurt and tender and I have lost almost all of my confidence in him. I feel like I don't even know how to make it through each day, let alone weeks or months or years. I feel so uncertain about everything.
     Flaco promised to meet with Pastor Ramon on Monday. He gave his word. To me, he says he does not believe the pastor will help us and does not want to talk to him. Flaco believes that pastors in general just want to make you go to church or want your money. Pastor Ramon said he will not push Flaco, but he will try to hold him to his word. Pastor Ramon told me that if Flaco backs out tomorrow, he plans to show up at the restaurant where Flaco works just to let him know that he broke his word and that has consequences. I don't see Flaco appreciating that too much, but I really don't care.
     For me, I just feel so tired and broken. For two years I have been fighting against infertility. I have been dealing with the disappointment and anger month after month after month. I have tried to not let infertility make me bitter and angry, although I suppose it has to a certain degree. And I always had hope that it would end some day and that it would end with a "happily ever after." Now, as if dealing with my physical inadequacies has not been enough of a trial, now I have to deal with my whole life crashing down around me. I love Flaco. I always have. But, I cannot make him love me. I cannot make him willing to want to work on the issues we have. Inside I am like humpty-dumpty. All the kings horses and all the kinds men cannot put my heart and my soul back together again.