Now, my miscarriage wasn’t the beginning of our infertility road.. It actually began a few years prior.
Throwing the birth control in the trash can was one of the craziest feelings. I was excited for this new step in our relationship yet really intimidated about the prospect of becoming a parent. For the record, each month I have a weird combination of optimism and pessimism but I still battle with the feeling that I felt initially excitement/anxious/fear/etc.
Now it didn’t happen after a few months and I thought that was really odd, women in my family tend to be super fertile, like my sister got pregnant while on birth control.. granted she isn’t the best at taking pills at a regularly scheduled time… but still, she isn’t the only example.
I did my internet research (cause you know, Dr. Google is totally right all the time, #sarcasm) and decided that we shouldn’t worry until it had been a year. I mean it takes a while for the birth control to wear off after years of being on the pill, right?
Right around our year mark of trying we moved across the country and I was sure it was going to happen. ANY MONTH NOW. I made employment choices that would easily accommodate becoming a mother (i.e. part-time jobs) while still staying within my chosen field. And then I waited.
I tried to be patient. I tried to not complain that first year, then that first year and a half. I knew it was time to see my OB/GYN but I felt that if I went it would be admitting that something was wrong.
Every two weeks I waited. The two weeks from my period until ovulation time then another two weeks to know if it worked or not. Slowly the weeks turned into months and they turned into two years, bit by bit erasing my identity outside of trying to become a parent.
Then one day I cam across a speech by a leader of the LDS church.
Patience is far more than simply waiting for something to happen—patience requires actively working toward worthwhile goals and not getting discouraged when results don’t appear instantly or without effort.
There is an important concept here: patience is not passive resignation, nor is it failing to act because of our fears. Patience means active waiting and enduring. It means staying with something and doing all that we can—working, hoping, and exercising faith; bearing hardship with fortitude, even when the desires of our hearts are delayed. Patience is not simply enduring; it is enduring well!
That gave me a lot of perspective. I had been waiting, but merely waiting, not actively pursuing the answers that could make a change.
I felt as if I had become a shadow of who I used to be. Just this person who takes each day as it comes, hoping that I won’t breakdown in the bathroom of a movie theater or in the middle of teaching a lesson at church. I never imagined myself in this situation, feeling broken, my soul slowly being ripped away. I could only go one step at a time feebly grasping onto hope that one day things would work out.
Unexpectedly, I knew my happiness didn’t just rely on getting pregnant, giving birth, or rearing a child. I needed other aspects of myself back, the things that felt familiar. I had to figure out where else I was lacking and fix those corners of my identity before Danny and I could continue our journey to parenthood.
I recognized that I wasn’t being fulfilled at work and desperately needed to change jobs. I also knew I needed to do something outside of work. I needed my hobbies back, really, I just needed my bike.
After some hard months of adjustments, I felt alive. I felt like myself, and it rejuvenated me to continue the fight, to find help and support, and to break my silence.