I think we all look for signs.
I think regardless of religious beliefs, when we are faced with a tough decision or a fork in the road, we look for signs on which direction to choose. Do I turn left, or right? Do I go back to school at 35 and change careers, or stay where I am? Do I buy a house or keep renting? Do I take job A or job B? At some point you prayed or otherwise asked the universe for a sign.
A week has gone by since Bryan dropped his “my endo thinks this is going to work” bomb. This decision is proving more difficult to make than how to pay for the IVF, because at least the financial part could be figured out with a plan. Part of my brain screams why NOT try to see if you can save the money and get pregnant naturally? And part of my brain (the negative, though I like to refer to it as realistic) screams stick with the original plan because statistically your chances aren’t great and IVF gives you the best possible chance.
I’m not going to lie, I’m not typically a big pray-er (i.e. the act of praying, not to be confused with prayer), but my issues lately have been the opposite of concrete and logical (and impossible to solve with a spreadsheet) and more along the lines of flipping a coin or playing rock, paper, scissors. I’m having to do things like trust my instincts, have faith, and believe in things I can’t necessarily prove. (HA!) It’s messing with my usual order of things and it’s messing with my plans.
I mentioned this in my Valentines post briefly, so if you’ve read it already, sorry but you get to read it again (the option of skipping ahead is also feasible). Bryan cooked dinner for me and we had planned to eat outside on the patio and enjoy the nice weather. We don’t make a habit of praying at meals. We talk about finding a church but continue to sleep in on Sunday mornings (well, he sleeps, I run). Our efforts have been lackluster. But for whatever reason Bryan starts praying before we eat. When he’s finished, I throw in my own “please help guide me in this decision” (he’s left it up to me). Bryan cheesily goes “send us a sign!”. I laugh at him, thinking I’m pretty sure that’s not the way it works. I get up to get salt and come back out. Not two seconds later, it starts to rain.
Ever since then I’ve been trying to figure out if that was some sort of sign. I’ve admittedly googled “rain and fertility” and “rain and signs from God” and have kind of fallen short. Some sites say rain is a sign of fertility. But I’m still not sure what that would mean in terms of our situation. Does that mean we are becoming fertile on our own? Or that IVF will increase fertility? Part of the problem with “signs” is that you can find ones for almost every situation and twist them to what you want them to mean. I’m trying to not do that. Heck, it simply could have meant “the earth is thirsty”, or “maybe you should drink more water”, or “you might want to go inside and eat instead”.
It could have meant nothing. Could be completely coincidental.
Truthfully, after the week has gone by I have the feeling more and more that I’m going to cave and agree to wait it out, with a time limit, and probably a relatively short one. A friend of mine asked me recently if I get a pang in my heart every time I see a pregnant woman.
That pang is what keeps me from making the commitment. Though logically I can explain to myself that it’s only for a couple more months and that it doesn’t mean IVF is off the table. Those extra couple months might actually put us in a better financial situation with hubby becoming self employed. And in fact, while doing the original research on the FSH, I found a study where it didn’t help sperm count, but DID result in a higher pregnancy rate for those pursuing IVF. Bryan’s next analysis on the FSH is scheduled for April 1 – about 6 weeks from now.
I have one more week to decide.
I still don’t know if that rain was a sign, but I think it was. I think it means something, I’m just not sure what. If I think about it, I remember connecting rain to fertility. And I found some evidence of the belief that rain is a sign of fertility. Maybe not on our own. Maybe the FSH will merely assist in the success of the IVF at a later date. I guess in a time of needing to trust my instincts, instead of researching and analyzing, I should go with my first feeling in response to the rain:
Rain is a sign of fertility. I feel like I’m being told to wait.
I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me sad. At first, it broke my heart a little. I was starting to see pregnant women and NOT feel the pang, knowing we would be en route soon. Since this latest issue, it’s returned.
The logic part of me is screaming at me right now. The part that knows the statistics and the studies. The part that thinks about the 65% chance vs who knows what chance. I’m testing my read of my own instincts here, because logic won’t work. I suppose that in the grand scheme of things, evidence for or against that doesn’t matter. Googling for hours isn’t going to answer my questions of what the rain means. Researching IVF success rates isn’t going to make it work.
What matters is what the rain means to me.
I still have a week left, but I think I know what I’m going to decide.
I will probably keep looking out for signs