Infertility is costly. I complain about that a lot, just ask my husband.

Truthfully, I still haven’t decided on the route to take to pay for this IVF. It’s such a gamble that I’ve started considering having Bryan stand in front of me. I’ll be pay per cycle and he’ll be pay for multi-cycle, and then we can rock, paper, scissors – best 2 out of 3.

sorry, someone has to win

I’m a freak about money by nature, too, which doesn’t help. I’d be the one saving money forever and end up taking it to my grave with me because I was too afraid to spend it. But for the first time in my life I’m finding myself caring less about it. (not totally…just less)

I get/have gotten the suggestion to wait it out. It’s one that I too have struggled with, all of the unanswerable possibilities. I find myself searching for signs or hidden messages in our situation. What if all I need to do is wait a few more months? What if we spend the money and it happens on its own later and I was being impatient? What if I’m being too impatient? What if I’m meant to be childless? What if this is a sign I should adopt instead? What if this is a sign to wait? What if we go broke? What if it doesn’t work?

I’ve gotten suggestions to pray. I have. I do. But who is to say that IVF isn’t the miracle I’m praying for?

Many infertile women say they experience guilt. Anger. Frustration. Mostly at their own bodies not being able to do what nature intended. I understand where this comes from. Oddly, I don’t have this experience. I feel frustration and sadness. I sometimes feel anger. But not at my body, at our situation. Like, why did we draw this particular set of cards? I believe in God. I believe everything happens for a reason. I believe I’m meant to be a mom. I believe that sometimes, in my lowest moments, I also find them difficult to believe in.

For whatever reason, I know in my heart that this is the next step in my life. And not because of the routine get married, buy a house, have a family kind of reason. It originated from inside and worked its way out. It’s a desire, but not in the same way you desire a new pair of shoes. It’s a dream, but different from the kind of dream where you win the lottery and suddenly become independently wealthy. It’s like the dream you have, whatever it may be, that eats and nags at you even as you try to live your life and ignore it, that keeps eating at you until you find a way to make it happen. The kind that you might take to your deathbed and suddenly regret not trying. Is that lame? Maybe. So my dream isn’t to be an award-winning doctor or high-profile lawyer, it’s to be a mom…..that runs marathons πŸ™‚

Each month comes with hope, however small. And up until now has been replaced by sadness. Hope. Sadness. Hope. Sadness. Like an eternal roller coaster ride. I love roller coasters, but I want off this one.

It effects your friendships. Your emotional state, and your husband’s. You question yourself. Your body. Your relationship suffers. It eats into your work, your social life, the places you once deemed safe. Infertility tests the strongest marriages, the souls of fighters, and the faith of the believers.

At this point, we are choosing to move forward. Take a risk. And finally, even though I’m still faced with more anxiety provoking decisions and a whole new set of what if’s, I feel a sense of peace and a different kind of strength to face this battle. It’s going to be expensive, and its going to be stressful.

The alternative is simply too costly.

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