Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Am I Really Old Enough to be 28?!

Today is my 28th birthday.  I don’t feel like I’m old enough to be 28.  I sometimes have to do a double-take at my life. I moved away from my hometown, I live in a house that my husband and I own, I’m entrusted with responsibilities at work that sometimes floor me, I’m responsible for keeping another living thing alive (our dog, Ted) and I have to do my own taxes for crying out loud.  But when I planned for my future when I was younger I had so many different things in mind than what life has actually brought me.  I thought I had nailed down what I wanted to be when I grew up, that I would be working in a medical profession, I would be married with at least one if not two kids by now, I would be living in some really cool city, I would be wildly successful.

What’s that saying? If you want to make God laugh, try to plan your life.  Yeah, He must think I’m hilarious.  Or maybe He’s just being amusing Himself…

I’m 28 and I honestly have no clue what I want to be when I grow up.  But maybe that’s ok.  I am still able to dream of all the possibilities, I’m not locked into a profession that I paid tens of thousands of dollars to be qualified for.  Maybe one day I’ll be a writer, or I’ll travel the craft show circuit, or I’ll invent something, or I’ll join the WWE…the book is still wide open.

I’m 28 and the hubby and I don’t have any kids other than one ridiculously adorable fur baby named Teddy.  We imagined we would have had a kid or two by now, but maybe that’s ok.  We have walked through the struggles of infertility together and I believe we will come out stronger on the other side.  If we weren’t walking this road I would have never known how comforting Joe’s simple presence can be during a painful procedure or after getting disappointing news again…and again.  I wouldn’t know what it’s like to long for something so badly and know that there is someone else who feels exactly the same way.  Someone who knows how excited you are for others when they announce a pregnancy but also knows the coinciding heartache that comes with it. I wouldn’t have met the kind and compassionate people that work at our doctor’s office, and I wouldn’t have heard from so many women, ones I know and ones I don’t, who are walking the same road as us and the ones that have come out successful and give me hope that one day we will too.  We have family that loves us more than we can imagine and right now that is enough.

I’m 28 and I don’t live in some super awesome, really exciting, busy city.  I live in a small town in North Dakota with one stoplight.  We have 3 bars, 5 churches, and a Subway.  There honestly isn’t that much to do.  But maybe that’s ok, too.  Because when there aren’t a lot of places to go and things to do it gives a person the ability to spend a lot of time with friends.  And some of the friends we have made in this tiny North Dakota town are 10 times better than many you would find in some big fancy city.  Friends that will help you fix the lawn mower when your husband is gone and you don’t have a clue, friends that don’t hesitate to loan you their ladder and aren’t concerned about when it will be returned.  Or friends who aren’t alarmed when you just walk into their house unannounced, friends you’ll always see at the school events and games, friends that you know will always be at Wednesday night ‘ coffee’ even if you haven’t spoken with them all week.  Friends that will sit with you during hard times and ones that will celebrate BIG with you during the good times. Friends that you know you’ll spend weekends at the lake with, New Years with, Bison football games with, random celebrations and Cinco de Mayo with, and practically every Friday night after a hometown football game.

I’m 28 and I haven’t lost the ability to dream of what the future may hold, something not everyone can say.  I have a husband who loves me and is there for me, something not everyone can say.  We have a family that loves and supports us and some of the best people we are fortunate enough to call our friends, something that many people cannot say. Maybe ‘wildly successful’ means something completely different now at 28 than what I thought it did when I was 18.   If I’m able to say these things that so many people can’t maybe, just maybe, I’m more successful than I could have ever imagined.

So to all of you who have loved on me for my birthday, THANK YOU!  I feel incredibly fortunate to call you friends and know that I love you, too!




Friday, October 2, 2015

Differences

My last post ended with the us having another appointment scheduled to start the whole process over again since the last round of meds didn't work.  That appointment has come and gone.  I was prescribed 150mg of Clomid every day for seven days. That's one of the highest dosages they give so the side effects made themselves WELL known.  #HotFlashesForDays  This regiment worked so much better than the last one.  12 days after starting this round of meds I was right where the doc wanted me so I could take the trigger shot.

We decided that we were going to jump straight to IUI for this round.  So we scheduled another appointment for two days later.  Intrauterine Insemination, or IUI, is a process in which the sperm are 'washed'.  They separate the good ones from the deformed and bad ones.  The doctor then places only the good sperm inside the uterus, giving you your best chances of conception.  Joe and I have affectionately been calling the procedure 'turkey basting'.  Although Joe was disappointed when the tool didn't actually look like a turkey baster, rather just a long tube. Dang it.

As we were sitting in the waiting room waiting to be called back for the procedure, I was noticing the different types of people that were sitting all around us as I've done every time I've been there.  There was a couple in their late 30's-early 40's, the wife looked kind and caring like she could have been a Sunday School teacher.  There was a young couple that had driven many hours to get here and arrived late the night before.  There was a gorgeous 20-something African American lady and her tall, dark, and handsome husband.  A middle-aged balding white male.  There was a couple who were around our age or maybe even a bit younger.  The husband had a dark beard, tall stature, and you could tell he worked with his hands while his wife looked like she could have been the captain of the cheerleading squad or a beauty pageant participant.  And then there was us.

As I observed everyone in the waiting room I couldn't help but notice the differences between everyone.  Most, if not all, of our paths would probably have never crossed had it not been for this waiting room.  We would have never been together had it not been for this one common denominator we all shared...infertility.  You see, infertility doesn't care if you're 40 or 22.  If you're married or in a relationship, if you spend your time molding the lives of children or if you spend it under the hood of car.  If you have blonde hair, brown hair, red hair, or no hair.  If you're black or white or if you look like Miss America.

Joe and I may be a different age, or nationality, or look different than many of the people in the waiting room that day but when you strip away age and hair color or the color of our skin, we're all really not that different.  We're all just humans.  Humans who are all struggling towards the same goal.  The goal to create a family that we can love and nurture and watch grow.

If I may quote a famous song, "We're all in this together".  Yes that is from High School Musical and yes Disney is applicable to all stages of life.  But seriously, everyone is fighting their own battles, somebody's maybe even the same as yours.  So be kind, be patient, and spread a little love.  You may have more in common with that stranger next to you than you think.