All in

     If you've followed along on our infertility journey for awhile chances are you've heard me say 'we're either all in or all out.' Any infertility story is written in a series of hurry ups and waits. Hurry on to the next step, wait for the diagnosis, the blood work, the results, the ultrasound….then hurry on to the next step when that one didn't work.  Paul and I have gotten so used to things not working out, that we're constantly thinking about our next move, be it in the form of family planning or trip planning. We always need something on the horizon to keep us moving forward.

     This summer has been just a little different though. We're in this odd space of half in and half out. Surrogacy with adopted embryos is our final stop on our infertility roller coaster. And if the roller coaster was a real ride, the ride attendant would be yelling at us to please stay seated and keep our arms and legs inside the moving vehicle because half of us just wants the ride to be over already. We have our eyes so trained on the next piece of our plan that we need to remind ourselves to slow down and give thanks in this particular season…the summer of 2016. The summer where our air conditioning went kaput and we engaged in a six week war with the home warranty company to have them fix it (no we still don't have A/C). The summer where three of our dogs became violently ill and required unexpected trips to the vet with days of their humans cleaning up from their accidents and which required a small fortune to be spent on our fourth dog during his week long battle with pancreatitis and luxury stay in an animal hospital for four days. The summer where our first attempt at surrogacy with two adopted embryos ended up in yet another chemical pregnancy. The summer where we used our very last adopted embryo and began mentally closing this chapter without even realizing it.

     But the summer isn't over yet and luckily, I don't stamp any part of any year with a negative label. Because this was also the first summer of living within walking distance to our niece and nephew, with impromptu cook outs and ice cream eating and porch sitting. It was the first summer of watching all the new plants bloom at a new house (and all the weeds I've managed to let grow). And, it's the summer of our very last two week wait…ever. That is enough to make me jump for joy despite whatever the outcome may be.

     It was so weird sitting in the clinic this past Friday knowing I would never, ever be back (unless I miraculously win the lottery).  There's a strong possibility that was also the last time I'll ever see my fertility doctor again, too. Which is just weird to think. They're a huge part of your life and then it's just over. Luckily, my doctor is just as quiet as I tend to be in awkward situations and perfectly responded with a "Well, I hope to see you again" when I made mention to the fact that I might never see him again (pending blood work results).

     And that takes us to this moment. This moment of our last time of waiting for pregnancy results. This moment of being in perfectly imperfect balance, with one foot still firmly planted in our infertility journey and the other foot tapping its toes impatiently on the 'rest of our life' platform.

     Sometimes we like to surprise people with the results of one of our family growing steps other times, we take you along for the ride. Last month, we let everyone know after the fact about our chemical pregnancy and 1st failed attempt at surrogacy with adopted embryos.  This time, we're asking you to join us on our final ride. We ask you to pray with us and for us and hope along side us as we wait to see how this final chapter of our infertility journey is written. We are so grateful to have had this surrogacy opportunity from my sister and to the biological parents who gave us the gift of possibility and hope by letting us adopt their embryos. There is always much to be thankful for indeed.

Our Roller Coaster

Last week my sister and I made a very public announcement over at The Sister Stories regarding her being our surrogate. Before this very heavy topic fades away into the background again, I wanted to take a moment to dive into the situation a whole lot deeper. 

So, let's start at the very beginning shall we?

It's a very good place to start.

When our infertility roller coaster first began all the way back in 2008, I knew we'd be one of the lucky couples. The couples who kind of have to struggle, but not really. I had faith our answers would come quickly. Looking back, I'm sure it was the 24 year old naivety, but that same faith has served me well over the past almost 9 years. 

I vividly remember laying in my bed, in the darkness late at night, searching for infertility bloggers and following as many as I could. I joined chatrooms and even met a fellow blogger for coffee. I read til my eyes couldn't see straight anymore. I absorbed every lesson I could. 

Those blogs I followed have pretty much gone silent.
In fact, all but one haven't had a post in over five years.

Yet, here I am still blogging about the same issue. 

For this gal who operates on facts and logic, it can be a hard road to navigate. 

It's tough to put into words and then to convey into feelings, what my brain has already logically processed and my heart understands so matter-of-factly.

But let me try.

To all those people who are starting out on this journey…my heart hurts for you. It hurts for the relationships & friendships you will undoubtedly lose. It hurts for the family members who just won't understand who will therefore say unkind things. It hurts for the heavy decisions that you will have to face. It hurts for your bank account and your savings and the financial burden infertility brings with it. It hurts for the shattered dreams and this ugly path you will have to navigate. It hurts for the self-doubt and questioning that will creep into your way of thinking.  It hurts for the way this thing called infertility will taint the rest of your life in the ways you will least expect. 

But it also leaps with joy for you. For the relationships and friendships you will undoubtedly gain. For the family members who will be there to support you no matter what. For the appreciation you will gain for all of life's trivial decisions. For the way in which penny pinching will bring about a certain awareness of all the free pleasures in this life…the sound of a thunderstorm, the rainbow after a storm, the smell of autumn, the sight of falling snow, the sound of the waves and the birds chirping. It leaps with joy for you for the discovery of the path that was destined for you and all the growth and enlightenment that will occur on a journey you never considered. It leaps with joy for the inner strength and resilience you will find deep within you, in ways you didn't know you could. It leaps with joy for the ways in which infertility will teach you to count all your other blessings in areas you least expect. 

Know this.  I am here. I am here to listen. I am here to offer advice. I am here to punch someone who says something awful to you…okay maybe not that last one. 

Know this. You are not alone. Seek advice and council from people who you trust with the most honest inner parts of your soul. But also know that this story is yours and your partners. You must be willing to learn and grow. You can close as many doors and options as you want while you are in a season of life, but be willing to peek behind those doors in the future as your seasons shift.

Once upon a time, we said we'd never do IVF.
We did and it failed.

Once upon a time, we said we'd never use a sperm donor.
We did and it failed.

Once upon a time, we said we'd never use adopted embryos.
We did and it failed.

Once upon a time, we said we'd never use a surrogate.
We did and it failed.

So here's the lesson from this older (and occasionally wiser) infertile gal.

Whether you end up with kids in some way shape or form or you don't, infertility doesn't define you.
Your children or your childlessness doesn't define you either.

Your infertility roller coaster is yours. It can be as tame or as wild as you make it.
As terrifying as it may be some days, it can also be thrilling and exciting and exhilarating if you let it.

I hope you learn to enjoy your ride.