Mir.riam-We.bster tells me that 'ineffectual' means "not producing the proper or intended effect" See also, "Futile"
Yeah. That's how I feel about fertility treatments right now.
Two and a half years. I've done 7 rounds of Clomid, and two rounds of injectables. All this over the course of 16 months... I've only ovulated 3-4 times during that time. I got pregnant once during treatments, and I miscarried promptly (Well, the baby stopped growing promptly. I had to wait 3 weeks to finally miscarry.)
You do the math- but no matter how you look at it, my treatments have been ineffectual. I mean, my ovaries can't even seem to perform a basic task. My uterus, don't get me started about that... two miscarriages, really?
But, I digress... where was I?
Oh, yeah- ineffectuality. I went into fertility treatments hopeful, worried but mildly hopeful. Well, I thought I may need bigger guns than the majority- and I did- but I was still tentatively hopeful that one day the fertility treatments would bring me my heart's desire.
I was naive- or stupid- depending on how you want to look at it. I thought fertility treatments worked. Well, I thought they did for most people.
And I was naive- or stupid- enough to believe that lightening couldn't strike twice; I had some small semblance of faith that the treatments would work eventually. I mean, seriously, infertility and having the treatments not work? How could something so messed up happen?
But, it did. Lightening does strike twice. I have had to face the fact that infertility hit me hard- and now, to also face the facts that the treatments just aren't working. I hate wasting all that time, all that money, all that emotioanlly energy, on something that just isn't working- and yet we keep doing it. It makes me feel like I'm delusional at times, and I ask myself why I bother.
I don't ovulate; I was 21 when my ovaries went on strike. I will be 25 in three months. Look at all that time, that immense struggle, all that I've been through, and yet... and yet... I still fear throwing in the towel. I fear letting it go, because for so long it has been the only thing I clung to- my last shred of non-existent hope. I thought, 'the treatments will work'- 'one more cycle'- 'one more try'... but, how I want to let go. I think that, one day soon, I will. And I will cry, and I will scream, and I will finally be free of these shackles, and I will fly again- I will be able to smile again with all my soul, instead of with just half of it.
I have two weeks and two days left of birth control pills to take. Almost one whole week down- it's been a long week, and I've been tossing and turning internally. I can't shut off this part of me that always thinks about infertility and what we're going to do about it- but I have been trying to think about it less, and trying so hard to just be in the moment. It's hard, after spending so long in one mindset to try and shift about to another.
I'm not trying to get pregnant right now- yet even when I'm not trying I am trying. I am contemplating, prepping, preparing, my pills are to reduce my cysts and normalize my hormones, I keep taking my Metformin with hope that my body will be ready next month, I take my aspirin, I research adoption, we save money for procedures and hopes- when I took a break after a miscarriage it was to let my body heal, one for my physical health, two for my mental and emotional well being, and finally to be ready to try again. Alway, always, with the hope of moving foward- of realizing our dream.
I wonder what it's like to not think about it, to actually take a break without ulterior motives. I know we used to live like that, at one point... but I can't recall it. I went to college for the sake of my future children, saved money for the sake of my future children, I became a better person for the sake of my future children- they're not here, yet almost everything I've ever done has been for them.
Yet... they're still not here.
Sometimes I think that I need to learn to live for myself before I will find them. But, as a child, I did have to live for myself- it was so hard. No one else was there for me, just myself and everything I ever wanted. I had no hand to guide me, no one to look out for me, no one cared if I came home at night or not. But I wanted to love, and be loved, and to care for others. And I did, from my little brother, to my husband, to my small animal army. I need to love, I need to nurture- it's an integral part of me. I spent the first half of my life finding a reason to live, a reason to not give up- and now, I spend my life trying to fullfill that reason.
I wonder what it will be like, finally having that reason in my arms...