The Infertility Phenomenon

Alas! it is time for me to explain in one place what's going on with our baby situation. So buckle your seatbelts, and grab a cup of coffee or tea.

A dear, dear friend recently told me about how openness is a huge need in women. Vulnerability is hard, and even harder for some, but how will other people learn from out mistakes if we're not honest and open about our struggles, needs, and failures (past and present)? I consider myself a pretty open person. If you ask me a question, I'll answer it the best I know how, even down the the nitty gritty. But I'm also trying to move out of my comfort zone a little bit, and that means throwing a blog post out there about something that is very near and dear to my heart. Not only will this give me something to reference when another inquiry (when are you and Dan going to have a baby???) comes along, but also it will be a good place for me to come and practice being even more open and vulnerable than I have been.

Fertility is TMI for some people. I am doing my best to respect that (not plastering this all over facebook!) so as not to offend anyone, but at the same time I do feel this blog and my experiences can be of benefit to someone. In another way, I'm also doing this so that I can look back on it later and see how I've grown through this struggle. There's few things more uplifting than looking at old diaries, Facebook posts, or old edits of pictures to see how far you've come. So, with that in mind, let's start at the beginning, shall we?

I'll first say I'm not a huge fan of hormonal birth control. There are several reasons for this, but that's a completely different post (or hundreds of posts....). When I'm on birth control it wrecks havoc on my health (I was on bed-rest for a month once). Not only that, but I'm sure I go insane whenever I'm on it. Certifiably insane. Once, I was cleaning the bathroom. I dropped my toothbrush in the sink and the battery popped out of it. I broke DOWN.

Yes. Insane.

Because of my complete and utter disdain for birth control, I went with the natural family planning method. Charting, taking temperatures, using ovulation predictor kits (from here on referred to as OPK's), and all such things that come with it. Well, needless to say, it's overwhelming at first and you really have no idea what you're doing for the first couple months. There will likely be a post on this whole topic sometime in the near future, but for now, we'll focus on the story line.

I came off the birth control (BC) in May of last year and transitioned to natural family planning (NFP). As I said before, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing the first month. And we were newlyweds. By June, I was sitting in my bathroom staring at the + sign on the walmart pregnancy test wondering how Dan was going to react since I'd spent a fair amount of time convincing him this NFP stuff was pretty accurate. I didn't have to worry about that for very long, because the next morning the test was negative. I was upset, and so was Dan, but it all happened so fast it's like it was there and then it wasn't. The doctor called the next morning to confirm I'd had a chemical pregnancy.

After that I got serious. I set my alarm for 6:30 AM everyday, and took my temperature before I got out of bed. I did an OPK at the same time everyday. I charted everything I possibly could on fertilityfriend.com (trust me when I say, that's a lot). I looked up information on how to interpret charts and how the hormones worked. I think I might have missed my calling and should have become a reproductive endocrinologist. It comes super naturally to me and within a couple weeks I was pretty knowledgeable not only in the text book way things should work, but what happens to people in real life. I read forum after forum after forum and how to use NFP as birth control. NFP has been very effective for me, even in other ways than birth control.

In December I started noticing my cycles were going absolutely wacko. Previously, my cycles had be 30-31 days with ovulation on day 15-16 every month, whereas now, all my OPK's were coming back positive after day 12. I started to get concerned that I wasn't actually ovulating.

If there's one thing I've learned through this whole thing up till now it's that there's nothing more scarily accurate than a woman's gut feeling when it comes to her reproductive health. I knew something wasn't right, even when I got the positive pregnancy test. I miscarried. I knew something wasn't right in December, and I was right. Since we were going to start trying in January, I was about ready to have a fit, if I'm honest. But I made myself wait.

Well, three months went by with no ovulation. I decided it was time to take action. First, I went to a doctor on base. Dr Hoffman was extremely helpful! He ordered all sorts of hormone tests and gave my progesterone to take to 'reset' my system. He also ordered a pelvic ultrasound. All in all, for not having a period for 3 months, my hormone results were pretty normal. My ultrasound came back, and the only thing they found weird was that my uterus is super far forward. Basically, I get to look 3 months pregnant when I'm one month pregnant. They told me this shouldn't interfere with getting pregnant. Ok, great!

Well, here we are. Present time. The 'restart' didn't work. No ovulation for me! SO I call the base and make a request for a referral off-base, since there's no OB/GYN specialist on base. I go through the whole insurance rigamarol, and my appointment was yesterday. I wasn't impressed with the doctor, to be honest. Her bedside manner is about that of a snake, and she's stuck in her ways. Thankfully, her 'way' was exactly what I needed.

She decided they'd be putting me through the clomid challenge test. In layman's terms, they're going to make my brain think I'm not producing enough ovulation inducing hormone in my body, and trick it into producing more. There's a couple down-sides: The side effects. I've prepared my husband for the worst. I said I may be able to stop myself from throwing things at him. Also, we're moving this weekend. And painting a 2700 sq. ft. house.

We covet your prayers. :)

So, there is an update on our baby situation. For both of us, this is one of our biggest desires. We want to be in God's Will first, and we know that timing will be of God. One of the biggest challenges for me through these last few months has been knowing how far to go with the medications, the medical procedures, the doctors, etc. in order to try and get pregnant. Finally it hit me that there's no reason to try to make decisions about steps you don't know whether or not you'll have to take.

So with that, my friends, one step at a time. Operation Baby Dashlee is underway, and I'll keep you updated along the way. Thank you in advance for your support and your prayers. Both are much needed and even more appreciated :)

Now, off to pack dishes before we close on our house tomorrow :)

Love,

Ash

Is there a such thing as a unique Mother's Day post?

I don't know.

But if there is indeed a unique Mother's Day post, I'm probably not going to be the one writing it. I came here to brag on my mom, so that's what I'm gonna do.

First, let me tell you a bit (and by bit, I mean averysmallpieceofherincrediblycomplicatedlife) of her story.

She grew up in a very small town, with a very small town mentality, on a farm. She had a cow, I think some chickens, and at one point I think there was a horse involved. She went to a small Christian school, and was generally a pretty normal kid.

When she was ten, she started having some health problems. To make an extremely long story short, two open heart surgeries, one wedding, and three kids later, we arrive at the year 2001. She hadn't been feeling well for quite some time now, but she was hanging in there. Someone needed something at target, so off we went. Again, to make a long story shorter, the whole family wound up in the ER waiting room wondering what was wrong with mom. This is where the big story begins.

There was a Discovery Channel show on the big screen about manatees, but I wasn't interested. Dad was back in the room with Mom. I was in charge of the siblings. Andrew's head was on my lap, he'd fallen asleep. Jessie was watching the TV, but not really paying attention to it, the same as I was. Dad came out with mom and said we were all going home. I remember she wasn't doing very well, but I couldn't place what was wrong, and it was bugging me.

The story progresses. To give you an idea of just how incredibly sick she was, at one point I remember (and honestly, my memory is probably somewhat inaccurate...but you'll get the idea) calling an ambulance for her three times in one week. It became part of life, and I'm fairly sure dispatchers probably knew who I was when I called in by the time the doctors finally got something figured out to help her heart. It was around this time that I knew I wanted to become a paramedic someday.

A year later, and mom is still sick. On the couch, can't get up or we're going to the ER again, sick. I remember feeling guilty because I couldn't fix her, and feeling quite in awe of her at the same time. She couldn't look out the window to check on us when we played outside, so I remember her grabbing dad's hunting walkie-talkies, handing one to me, and keeping the other one of her bedside table. About every 15-30 minutes I'd get a call on the walkie-talkie to make sure we were okay. My friends laughed, and I'd complain every once in a while, but I always knew she was just doing what she had to do. And I remember thinking, "I hope this makes her less stressed, so she'll get better."

I remember my sister making her juice three or four times a day. She'd complain about it too, and I still remember a picture my mom snapped of her, with her face in her hands, pouting, and holding two carrots. It's quite the sight, and pretty funny. I remember mom's skin turning orange, because all she could eat was juiced carrot and celery, after it had been strained two or three times to get all the fiber-filled carrot chunks out of it.

And then we moved to my grandparents basement. It's really not as dismal as it seems... we had our own kitchen, and we made do with two bedrooms. Mom was doing better now, she could eat a little more variety and we didn't fear we'd be making a trip to the ER whenever she got up to go to the restroom anymore. She was able to do some housework and cook some meals. Things were looking up.

Finally, a few months after we moved, we got a diagnosis. Celiac disease. Mom looked at me with a sad look on her face, and I remember thinking the worst, she had three months to live, maybe even less. It's not like it would be a shocker, and I'd had time to think about how I'd react and what I'd do. But then she smiled and said "I've got Celiac Disease...we'd better go get some oreos!" And did we ever get some oreos...and they were gone by that night, I'm pretty sure!

It didn't take too long for Mom to start feeling better. We slowly, slowly, ever so slowly got our Mom back. And then I went crazy, but that's a different story for a different time :)

I write all of that, and while that may not stun you, this next part will. I never once heard my mom complain. She would ask us to do something for her, and I would complain because I wanted to go hang with my friends rather than help my mom, but not once did I hear anything negative come out of her mouth about her health. To this very day, she makes meals FULL of things she can't eat, with no regard for herself. Not only does she not complain, but she doesn't ruin it for us either. How easy would it be for her to say "Oh man, that looks so good, wish I could have some...", or "Gee, how cool would it be to eat some of that chocolate cake!"? Nope. If someone offers her a piece of cake, or says "have you tried _____ to help your stomach pains?", she laughs it off and says something like "I'd love to, but I'd be on the toilet for weeks!"

My mom is the only person I know who can talk about almost starving to death and make the conversation uplifting instead of depressing.

My mom is the only person I know who could have dealt with my rebellious, obnoxious, awkward teen aged years with poise and grace, and without strangling me.

Annnddd...My mom is the only person who could have shown me as well as she did that no matter what, you still have the capability to do what's right.

Mom, you prepared me for my marriage by giving me a Godly example of what marriage really is. You prepared me for hardships by showing me openly Who you relied on. And you showed me how to love by loving me with all your heart.

I love you, Mamma!!

My Thoughts on life, Romans, and some other not so pleasant things...

There's a lot going on in the world right now. Just to catch you all up...

Obama is President.

Osama Bin Laden is dead, and Obama is taking credit for it.

Donald Trump is running for president.

Japan is crumbling...literally.

The southern region of the United States is being plundered by tornadoes.

We are killing our babies before they're even born.

People eat McDonald's Big Mac's like they're candy, then wonder why they're obese.

Well, that's just about enough to give you a good idea of where it looks like we're heading, not only as a country, but as a race. To be honest, I've been feeling a little down about the state of the world in which I live lately. And while I'm being extremely transparent, I know why!

My relationship with my God has not been where it should be the last few weeks. I think we all know what it's like to get in a 'rut' in our spiritual lives, but I don't think I've personally been in one I didn't know how to get out of. I wasn't enjoying my alone time with God in the mornings, which progressed to not making it a priority, which led to not doing it (because cleaning the house was more important....??), which moved on to feeling guilty about not doing it. Which led to me being a rotten, awful, stinking MESS!

I'll say my "rut recovery" started on Easter. Not only was it Resurrection Sunday, but it was my 1 year anniversary of marriage (post coming soon!!). Marc, our music pastor at our church, sang Arise, My Love, and I bawled. And bawled. And, as is typical for me once I start crying; I didn't stop for the rest of the service. It was powerful. Then, preacher spoke on 'The Folded Napkin" and the significance it has (see John 20:7). He told us of a Jewish tradition that was this: A Jewish master often would leave the table for short amounts of time during the meal. As a sign to the servant, he would either crumple his napkin or fold his napkin and leave it on the table before he left. A crumpled napkin meant he would not be returning. A folded napkin meant he would be returning to finish his meal. Now, apply that to Jesus' resurrection, and the significance of the napkin about his head being folded...not crumpled. Our Jesus us returning, His work is not done.

Do you know what that means? Jesus isn't done with me, either. If I'm still breathing, Jesus isn't done with me yet! I have a reason for being here. Jesus can still use me, and He will, if I just let Him. I often times don't realize the 'bigness' of this... and I can't explain it to you, because I want YOU to feel it.

The other thing that helped me get out of my rut: Romans, chapter 3. First, before I go on, I will tell you what a huge deal it is for me to cry. For most girls, the instinct emotional reaction to just about anything is sadness. Whether it's a fight with your man, something didn't go right for you, or you feel alone, most girls default to sadness, which usually leads to crying. Notice; I'm leaving room open here for the girls like me, who default to anger. I don't get sad very easily. I don't get extremely happy unless I'm excited about something. Most of the emotions that lead to tears, I don't experience very strongly unless it's something huge. Life altering, let's say. With that said, I bawled my way through Romans 3 this morning.

The section that really got me today is verses 9-20. It talks about how there is none righteous. And while reading this, I realized, "God didn't have to send Jesus for us." I mean...I already knew that. But there is a difference between knowing, and knowing. I think you probably know what I mean when I say that.

Well, there's my tidbit for today. It's random, scattered, and probably doesn't make any sense, but hopefully you can tell it's from my heart. I am praying about making this blog more of a ministry to women, and people in general. Thoughts are welcome, as are prayers! I have an intense desire to minister to the women at my church, I just don't know how to do that yet.

Until next time,

Ash