I asked my siblings and nieces and nephews to send me their Christmas lists, like I do every year, but this year I decided to write my own grown-up Christmas list.
Pen and paper in hand, the only item on my list this year is IVF.
After trying to start a family the old-fashioned way two years ago, we have since had to turn to medicine and science if we want to hear the pitter patter of little feet running around one day.
I’ve felt more like a science fair project than a human lately, constantly being poked and prodded by doctors, who can’t give me any answers.
One set of tests says one thing and others are inconclusive.
Still, like clockwork, I sit in a waiting room full of pregnant women waiting on their glucose test results to have yet another series of tests done that will undoubtedly reveal for the 32nd time that I am no closer to becoming a mom than I was last month.
Every time we take one step forward, we end up taking three steps back.
When we first decided it was “time” to start a family, I thought we would be parents within the year, secretly hoping we could surprise our families ahead of schedule.
After about six months I knew something was wrong. After talking with my provider, he referred me to the infertility specialist. I froze. I need to see who? We need medical inter-what? Overwhelmed, I revealed to no one that I was seeing a fertility specialist because these things are just supposed to happen on their own. It’s called the miracle of birth for a reason.
I felt like if I didn’t say out loud that I am somehow broken, then it wouldn’t be true and this wouldn’t be my life. I was embarrassed and felt betrayed by my own body. After months of denial, I broke my silence.
I knew I wasn’t the only woman in the world going through this, but I was comforted to know that I had a circle of friends I could cry to.
I already wear my emotions on my sleeve but the medication the doc has me on has upped my weepy factor 10-fold. You know how that Sarah McLaughlin animal cruelty commercial makes you feel and then it ruins the rest of your day because you can’t get the images out of your head? Well, that’s how I pretty much feel on a regular basis. Everything makes me cry.
After a year and a half of seeing the specialist and being on fertility medication, my doctor recently knocked the wind out of my sails when she said she was referring us to the hospital in San Antonio to have an IVF consult.
To add insult to injury, when they called me to set up my appointment I had to ask the woman to repeat the date because I thought I heard her wrong: March 4, 2014. The appointment is a class, and they will schedule an actual visit with a doctor three to four months later. The wait list for the procedure is two years long.
The thought never crossed my mind that I wouldn’t be a mom one day. Now I am wondering if I am just missing all the signs that are trying to tell me to cut it out and move on with my life and that I am destined to do something else. But I don’t want something else. I want to have dark circles under my eyes because I have a newborn to tend to. I’ve never wanted anything more.
Now I am stuck at an impasse. Do I stick with the military system or venture out into the civilian world and go it alone?
I know I am only 28 and I’ve been told I should be living it up like the DINKS (Double Income No Kids) we are, but I can’t ignore that something is missing.
So, Mr. Claus, I’ve been a very good girl this year and I am hoping you can make my Christmas wish come true.
Contact Vanessa Lynch at firstname.lastname@example.org or 254-501-7567.