Since we started telling a story here why not continue?
Last Thursday I went to the Fertility place for an ultrasound to see if we were ready to move forward to the next step. My follicles weren't big enough. They're supposed to be up to 18 mm wide. Mine were not. So they upped my dosage of Femara and sent me on my way.
On Sunday I was worked up so much, worrying about what we were doing. Is going to a fertility clinic the right thing to do? Is it right to use medication to trick your body into functioning like a normal woman? Is this too much of a financial strain? (Apparently there are things to learn about insurance the first time you really start to utilize your own. Mostly I mean deductibles and that they start afresh every January.) But most importantly, is it even the right time to have a baby? Creating life is serious business. There's more to it than 9 months of uncomfortable weight gain and then precious moments of cuddling that swiftly disappear as your baby becomes a toddler and continues to grow up. You are bringing new life into a destructive world. I was worried that my efforts to become a mother are based in selfishness and desire that isn't right. Then the counsellor in the bishopric called on the bishop's wife to bear her testimony because we had extra time at the end of the meeting. Do you wanna know what she said? Because it had such a profound effect on me I promptly forgot the exact phrase. Anyhow, it went something like, "If you think you've ruined your life beyond God's ability to repair it, don't worry. You're not that powerful." I laughed it off because I've read it before. And then I let it sink in and it felt like someone was filling the weight in my chest with helium, tying it off, and sending it to the sky. "Bethany," the new space in my heart seemed to say, "it's okay. You keep working and doing your best. I will take care of you."
Fast forward to today. Another ultrasound. NBD. I'm getting used to these uncomfortable things. If you don't know what a trans vaginal ultrasound is ask me and I'll explain. Or ask your mother. Or the Internet. I asked the Internet before I got the first one. I was glad I did that research ahead of time so I could be mentally prepared.
Unfortunately my cute little follicles have not really grown. The largest one the doctor could see was about 7mm wide. That will just not do.
She asked about my periods. I gave a way too long explanation. She said we might not have to induce a period or change my medications or inject FSH (Follicle Stimulating Hormone) directly into my bloodstream. That's a little more expensive. Or we would try again on the next cycle. #StubbornOvaries. I felt like what she said was reasonable. I had seen the screen and she had answered so many questions for me already. I knew that my follicles weren't big enough. I saw them. I saw what the measurements.
She left me alone in the room and said she'd talk to me when I came out. I felt a small swelling of disappointment as I adjusted my clothes, but hurried out so I wouldn't have to feel it.
She said they'd give me a call later today, could I be available to come back in to pick up new medications just in case? Yes of course.
I walked out to my car and sat down and just felt the discouragement envelop me. I was sad. I didn't want to sit there and write this out like last time. I just wanted to drive away from that place. It wasn't a happy place today. I turned on my tunes for distraction and drove. And as Imagine Dragons sang that "I could have gave up then, but then again I couldn't have," I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. Like Dan Reynolds was reaching back from the future telling me (with very poor grammar) that I've come all this way for something and that I can't just give up. I wasn't feeling on top of the world, but I could totally relate to the words in that peppy song.
I quit resisting my feelings and just let myself be sad, upset, frustrated, etc. There weren't many tears to be had. I was scared of my feelings being too much, but they were not. They were adequate. And when then had run their course they were calm.
And I felt better.
And driving back to Provo to sit next to my Jacob while he works on campus was the next best thing to emotionally eating, so I did it. There is so much comfort in a compassionate, loving husband. And here we sit. Side by side. Working. In a quiet room with a fantastic view feeling peaceful, comforted, and loved.
Standing up and stretching he asked if we could have a home with a third story, glass walled room one day.
Yes, my love. Yes, yes, yes.
It would be my office.
You would fit in an office like that.
I forgot to mention to him that no child of ours would ever be willing to resist the urge to spend all of their time in a room like that. It really would need to be a family room.
So here's hoping our dream office will turn into a room with constant smudges on the glass.
Last Thursday I went to the Fertility place for an ultrasound to see if we were ready to move forward to the next step. My follicles weren't big enough. They're supposed to be up to 18 mm wide. Mine were not. So they upped my dosage of Femara and sent me on my way.
On Sunday I was worked up so much, worrying about what we were doing. Is going to a fertility clinic the right thing to do? Is it right to use medication to trick your body into functioning like a normal woman? Is this too much of a financial strain? (Apparently there are things to learn about insurance the first time you really start to utilize your own. Mostly I mean deductibles and that they start afresh every January.) But most importantly, is it even the right time to have a baby? Creating life is serious business. There's more to it than 9 months of uncomfortable weight gain and then precious moments of cuddling that swiftly disappear as your baby becomes a toddler and continues to grow up. You are bringing new life into a destructive world. I was worried that my efforts to become a mother are based in selfishness and desire that isn't right. Then the counsellor in the bishopric called on the bishop's wife to bear her testimony because we had extra time at the end of the meeting. Do you wanna know what she said? Because it had such a profound effect on me I promptly forgot the exact phrase. Anyhow, it went something like, "If you think you've ruined your life beyond God's ability to repair it, don't worry. You're not that powerful." I laughed it off because I've read it before. And then I let it sink in and it felt like someone was filling the weight in my chest with helium, tying it off, and sending it to the sky. "Bethany," the new space in my heart seemed to say, "it's okay. You keep working and doing your best. I will take care of you."
Fast forward to today. Another ultrasound. NBD. I'm getting used to these uncomfortable things. If you don't know what a trans vaginal ultrasound is ask me and I'll explain. Or ask your mother. Or the Internet. I asked the Internet before I got the first one. I was glad I did that research ahead of time so I could be mentally prepared.
Unfortunately my cute little follicles have not really grown. The largest one the doctor could see was about 7mm wide. That will just not do.
She asked about my periods. I gave a way too long explanation. She said we might not have to induce a period or change my medications or inject FSH (Follicle Stimulating Hormone) directly into my bloodstream. That's a little more expensive. Or we would try again on the next cycle. #StubbornOvaries. I felt like what she said was reasonable. I had seen the screen and she had answered so many questions for me already. I knew that my follicles weren't big enough. I saw them. I saw what the measurements.
She left me alone in the room and said she'd talk to me when I came out. I felt a small swelling of disappointment as I adjusted my clothes, but hurried out so I wouldn't have to feel it.
She said they'd give me a call later today, could I be available to come back in to pick up new medications just in case? Yes of course.
I walked out to my car and sat down and just felt the discouragement envelop me. I was sad. I didn't want to sit there and write this out like last time. I just wanted to drive away from that place. It wasn't a happy place today. I turned on my tunes for distraction and drove. And as Imagine Dragons sang that "I could have gave up then, but then again I couldn't have," I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. Like Dan Reynolds was reaching back from the future telling me (with very poor grammar) that I've come all this way for something and that I can't just give up. I wasn't feeling on top of the world, but I could totally relate to the words in that peppy song.
I quit resisting my feelings and just let myself be sad, upset, frustrated, etc. There weren't many tears to be had. I was scared of my feelings being too much, but they were not. They were adequate. And when then had run their course they were calm.
And I felt better.
And driving back to Provo to sit next to my Jacob while he works on campus was the next best thing to emotionally eating, so I did it. There is so much comfort in a compassionate, loving husband. And here we sit. Side by side. Working. In a quiet room with a fantastic view feeling peaceful, comforted, and loved.
Standing up and stretching he asked if we could have a home with a third story, glass walled room one day.
Yes, my love. Yes, yes, yes.
It would be my office.
You would fit in an office like that.
I forgot to mention to him that no child of ours would ever be willing to resist the urge to spend all of their time in a room like that. It really would need to be a family room.
So here's hoping our dream office will turn into a room with constant smudges on the glass.
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