Money and Peace

For the most part I can get over the fact that I need medication to decrease my risk of miscarriage, but the thing that I have a hard time not feeling angry about is when the thing that prevents me from doing all that I can is money.  Not that I don’t have the money, but that this stuff costs so much.

There is very little insurance coverage out there for fertility testing and treatments.  We were very fortunate to have had just about the best infertility coverage you could find when we were going through thousands of dollars a month in treatments.  We only had a $20 prescription copay (those injections were thousands).

Since we currently have no worthwhile insurance coverage (thanks, Obama), money has been what has set our limits, and that is very frustrating.  If it wasn’t a factor, I’d just be all like let’s do IVF again.  It’s our option with the highest chance of success.  I probably wouldn’t have said that 6 months ago, but I’m more determined now that this can have a happy ending.

It still may not, but I do not want to have to give up and quit and try to move on because I couldn’t afford a medication.  I thought that was going to be the case up until this morning, in fact, although I hadn’t entirely decided to give up.  Just a month or two until I could come up with the $93 to refill my Femara.

Someone told me that Femara is only $7 at Costco.  WHAT.  How can that be possible?!  I had to check into it.  I can afford $7.  Long story short, it’s true.  I refilled my double Rx for $7.56 this morning.  Today is the day I’d need to start taking it.

I would’ve been crying and jumping for joy if I didn’t have a peace about it.  I’d come to realize in the past few days that God isn’t trying to prevent me from trying to have another baby, he’s just helping me to be patient about it.  “Wait” is the word that has come up again and again in the last 6 months.

So with that in mind, I hope that I can continue to feel peaceful and patient this month.  I want to concentrate on Advent (which, coincidentally, means “waiting”) and Christmas with my family and not OPKs and symptoms.  They need to take a back seat.

 

P.S. While looking for scripture to have B read when we light our Advent candles, I came across this:

Therefore since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
Romans 5:1-5

So look at that: I shouldn’t ever feel stupid for continuing to have hope.  This is how I’m able to still have hope.

“I Don’t Know How to Make Peace with My Infertility”

This was an article I came across today that resonated so much with me.  It is something I have continued to struggle with and do every single day.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/wendy-litner/i-dont-know-how-to-make-peace-with-my-infertility_b_8525700.html?ir=Parents&ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000037

This really highlights how it feels:

The agony of infertility runs so deep that I feel irrevocably changed by the experience — so much so that having a baby now almost feels beside the point. How will I ever heal? How will we ever be OK with the hows and whys and buts of it all? My heart feels mashed inside my chest. Could a baby really put it back together again?

And I have learned from experience that the answer is no.  Having M brought me a lot of joy, but it was a separate joy.  It wasn’t one that automatically erased all that had happened because it had been “resolved.”

It can never be resolved.  The pain leaves a profound impact on you, and there is no cure.  I can’t just have a baby no matter how much I want one, no matter how hard I try.

I haven’t entirely put this out there yet, in so many words, but we have been hoping to have another baby.  I’ve had two more miscarriages since this began, including one where I was maxed out on Clomid.  I’m on Femara right now, which I’ve never tried before but it’s expensive and possibly the last option.  Doing IVF again isn’t an option (unless maybe it were magically free).

And so here I am feeling crazy for trying, for hoping maybe this time everything will work out, but it’s not going well.  Sometimes I wonder why I should expect a different result?  I don’t know how I can ever come to terms with it.  It’s the most maddening, heartbreaking position to be in, and I know that it’s very likely at some point soon I’ll have to try to accept giving up and moving on.

Snowbird

Snowbird

I wanted to believe that you’d be able to stay
I was so afraid you wouldn’t, just like the others
I prayed for you, I loved you, and I hoped
I told myself it was ok and I waited
I nestled you into my heart, where you will always be
I wonder how I can let myself keep hoping
Even after you flew off to be with the rest
I saw snowbirds today
Beautiful gray and peaceful
I know you’re safe there with them
You all have each other

Now I Can Walk

ps 138 7

Five years ago today I was just beginning to see my RE.  I found hope in that.  I had been drug through over a year of disappointment and heartbreak.  I had been learning how to walk in such darkness, how to hold God’s hand and let him support me as I walked.

I had two more years of walking through that dark valley.  There were a lot of painful stumbles.  Finally I made it out to the other side when M was born.  She brings so much joy to our lives, and not a day goes by I don’t know that and remember.

She is almost 3 now, and I had several years of healing from that walk and never wanting to try it again.  Then somehow our minds changed, even before losing Flicker a few months ago.  I am three months into starting this walk again, not knowing how long I’ll be on it nor how many wounds I’ll suffer on the way.

There are days it is still hard.  I see cavalier comments, triggering announcements and pictures, and I hate being back here.  I hate that it has to be so hard for me.  I feel isolated again.

But now I have learned how to walk this path.  It is familiar to me.  I hold God’s hand and walk more confidently.  I know that I can walk through it and where the stumbles are.  I know that while I’m surrounded by these troubles again, by the familiar pain of waiting for a baby I’m already supposed to be having, that my life is safe.

Another Angel

I got to spend one long, crazy, nice day with now another little angel baby.  He was certainly a surprise, but very much wanted, but today is already gone.  I’m sad and disappointed, but under the circumstances am glad it happened sooner than later.  I only had the one day to get my hopes up, rather than weeks or months.  But there was a lot of thinking, dreaming, and love for that one night and day.

Here are some of the scriptures, images, etc. that I came across or that came into my head in the last two days that will forever be associated with Flicker.

Flicker

“Trust the Lord and His mighty power.
Remember his miracles and all his wonders
and his fair decisions.”
Psalm 105:4-5

“The Lord is righteous in everything He does;
He is filled with kindness.
The Lord is close to all who call on Him,
Yes, to all who call on Him sincerely.”
Psalm 145:17-18

“Greater things are yet to come
And greater things are still to be done.”

It Doesn’t Go Away

Read this article just now.  Great article, spot on.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/parenting/wp/2015/04/27/the-other-side-of-infertility-i-finally-joined-the-elusive-mommy-club-but-did-i-really-belong/

It puts into words so much that I’ve felt.  Just recently in fact I was sitting with two other moms of kids on my son’s baseball team who were talking about her surprise baby and ease-of-conception-issues that went on from there.  I wanted to cry and throw up having to sit there listening to it.  I don’t feel like the other moms when stuff like that happens.  I feel like an outsider.

I’m 2 1/2 years past our “resolution,” and I have learned that the effects of infertility are profound and stay with you always.  It’s still something I have to deal with: all of those feelings are still there and are the first to surface, even if they don’t hit me quite as hard.

In fact, lately I’ve been reminded just how much it is still part of my life when faced with the desire to want to have another baby.  It is an incredibly complicated and scary issue.  It brings back all of the risk of heartbreak; it is still something I would have to face if we did make that decision.  I have to factor my willingness to risk going through all of that into a decision, and I’m back to feeling angry about how unfair it all is.

Unexpected Days

It’s funny how one day with one small trigger (or maybe sometimes none at all) you can unexpectedly spend the day thinking about one of your babies.  I have that Timehop app. on my phone and this morning it showed 4 years ago today a picture upload including my angel box for Michael.  It really struck me, seeing that picture and that it was 4 years ago.  It doesn’t seem nearly that long ago.  The memories are still vivid and painful enough I can’t even bring myself to look at the things inside of his box today.

It’s funny, too, because it was just a day or two ago I remember some reference to a bar of antibacterial soap and it immediately brought up the morning of my D&C, how I had to be up at 4am or whatever scrubbing myself with anti-bacterial soap I’d had to specifically buy because those were the pre-op instructions.

I have all kinds of little snippet memories like that surrounding the time of his loss.  (I actually listed them all here but them it felt too personal for now.)  I’ve spent most of today having most of those memories come back to me and then getting tears.  I know he’s in heaven waiting for us, with the rest of them, and I can tell God to give him a hug for me.  And now I am able to have these memories come and then tuck them back away and go about my day.

It’s just funny how there is no real reason for today to be a day to think about this.  I guess remembering days don’t just neatly keep themselves only to loss/due dates.

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