Done with IVFs.

And so, I went back again for my third IVF. Again, it failed. Again I was devastated. You would have thought that this time, I should know what to expect. That I should have been prepared. But, once again, I didn't even think of the possibility of it not working. I didn't envision myself "not pregnant". The doctors told me that I had some really great eggs. In the words of one of them, the best he had seen in a few years.
But, it didn't work. The eggs weren't good enough or my womb just didn't want anything to do with them great eggs.
The breach between my husband and I widened. I felt many things and I cried many tears.
Then, suddenly, the tears stopped coming. My heart stood still and I felt like I was recovering. I still don't understand that particular healing process and its patterns, but I pulled through.
After, I recovered, I just signed out. I never want to go through that again. If that baby is waiting for an IVF treatment to come to me, then I thought that will be tough luck, because, I wasn't going through that again.

The Scar.

After the first failed IVF, I couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt. I can't say I was devastated, because up to this day, almost 6 years after, I still can't find the words to describe how I felt. There was an emptiness that went beyond words. The feelings of loneliness and guilt which proved to be a horrible combination, threatened to undo me. I kept asking myself what I might have done wrong.  I kept telling myself that maybe if I had laid down a certain way, if I eaten a certain way, if I hadn't done a certain something, maybe my baby would have lived...
My husband didn't help much. He had never been the talking type.  It felt like he didn't want to be around me, probably because he didn't know how to handle all that I was feeling. He buried himself in his work and when he had to be with me, he just kept looking at me with such pity that it only made me feel worse. I felt like I had failed at something. And then, to make matters worse, he would occasionally make the side comment about what a waste of money it has all been.
It was an emotionally and psychologically draining period. I lacked the energy and drive to get up in the mornings. I have always been a very cheerful and overly optimistic person, but during this time, smiling sometimes requires a huge effort.

Looking back, I can't figure out how I survived, but I guessed somebody somewhere was looking out for me and miraculously, healing happened. I won't say that I was the same person after, but, I was able to find a way to move ahead.  The scars still remained but then, hope thrived, faith was there and I felt like I got healed.

And, then I decided to try again.

The first IVF

After the first IVF in 2008, I was counting the days, convinced that it was a done deal. I had pictured my self pregnant. I had seen myself pregnant. I had seen myself cradling the baby. I ordered a dozen books about pregnancy from Amazon and I was reading every last bit of it. At this time, I was not working because my husband was convinced that I needed to just be at home and not stress myself, and even though I very clearly disagreed, I obliged him, after all, I'll have the kids soon and then go back to work.
All I could see in my mind's eye was a pregnant me, glowing, not bothered by morning sickness, just blissfully happy and smiling at everyone. It was the only thing I wanted to see, and so it was the only thing I allowed myself to see. I was not prepared to even consider that anything could go wrong. After all, the doctors had said that there was a 50/50 percent chance, but, hey...! I was young, healthy and I just had to be in the 50 percent who got their "twins". Yes, I wanted twins, 2 for the price of one. I even had their names decided. Those two weeks were full of excitement for me and all I could think of was the bright future ahead with my children.
I even bought a few maternity wears as well as some clothes for the babies and the only reason why I didn't start buying baby furnitures was because my husband insisted that we wait.
8 days later and with all the hormonal changes and pains, I started bleeding and when I got to the clinic, I was told that there were no babies.

My world stopped. I just stared blankly at the doctor, refusing to take it in...

The Eleventh Year

So, it's now eleven years of marriage. The patterns. The routines. The realisation that marriage is all the things my Mum told me it would be, and then a whole lot more. It has been 11 years of waiting, believing and having faith.

I learnt a lot from my Mum, the ability to love a man without losing myself. The grace to pray in the face of trying times. The strenght to laugh through the hurt and to forgive, over and over again. I learnt to be content with whatever I am given, while fighting for everything I want. I learnt to build and nurture people around me. I learnt to love unconditionally. I learnt to give, without expecting anything back. I learnt to keep my expectations real. I learnt to reach for the stars. I learnt to dream and dream big and I learnt to believe in the veracity of my dreams. I learnt a lot from all the wonderful people, both men and women that have been and the ones that still are in my life and on most days, I feel like life, marriage and relationships are not so bad after all.

What my mum, and indeed any one, didn't prepare me for was, what it entails to not have a child of my own. She didn't tell me. Nobody warned me that I will experience this heart wrenching pain and occasional feelings of emptiness and loneliness. I was not informed that I will be subjected to the judgement of people. I wasn't told that the society will exclude me from certain "rights" and that I would not be accepted into the "inner circles" of people who have carried a pregnancy to term or cradled a child. I was not prepared to be told that I haven't fulfilled my "... wifely role, ...why he married you..."

The first 8 months of marriage, my husband and I lived in different continents but, a month after the wedding, I started getting the questioning looks. After my menstruation came and it was obvious to people that I was not with child,  people started asking me when I was going to join my husband.  When eventually I joined him,  the pressure started, silently at first and then went on mounting and hasn't stopped. 

Of course, when I was first married, I did not even imagine the possibility of joining the ranks of Abraham and Sarah, of Elkanah and Hannah, of Elizabeth and Zechariah, but over the years, I have been constantly reminded of these keys figures and the miracles that were the conception and birth of their offsprings. 
Before marriage, I had been a "good girl". I was mostly considered a decent and responsible girl, the kind that would get pregnant immediately she meets a man. I was the kind of girl some mothers used as an example for their daughters, I was a good example, not that it matters now, because, now after almost 11 years, I am now the kind of woman people whisper about behind my back. I am now the woman people are asking "... who knows what kind of life she must have lived as a young girl..."

About 6 months after I joined my husband, I started seeing the look of annoyance and irritation on his face every time my period showed up. It wasn't just the fact that I hadn't taken in, it was also that my periods are usually accompanied with such pains. He said he couldn't stand seeing me in such pain and everybody said that once I got pregnant, the pains will stop.  I was getting worried and then a year after, the visits to the doctors started. The fasting started. The calls intensified. The "...don't worry, we are praying for you..." became a part of every single conversation I have with friends and families.

I have reconnected with old friends and acquaintances and once they establish that I am married, the first questions have been, "how many children have you got now?" "...but, what are you waiting for...?" "...have you been to the hospital?" "...but, what's wrong?"
I have received countless recommendation of doctors who have worked wonders for other women. I have even been told the medications that other women have used to conceive.

I have suffered the pitying looks, the well-intended, but nevertheless annoying questions, the times when friends and families have asked you "..., but, what exactly is wrong?, like something has to be wrong. The times when some close friends and family members tell you that it seems that you're not worried about "your situation" because you look happy and fulfilled and you're busy doing other things rather than being at home crying, looking dejected and calling pity parties.

The times when other women tell you "you won't understand..." when they talk about how stressful their kids-filled lives are, or about how demanding it is to take care of the kids. The times when they express surprise that you can bathe a day old baby, when they marvel that you understand baby talks. The look on the faces when they see you having fun and a great time with other people's kids. 

I have both been annoyed and amused by the people who told me that why it seems that I am doing well in my chosen profession is because I still don't have kids. The times when I have been told that why I'm still in "such great shape" is because I haven't got kids. The times when I have been told to enjoy "my slender figure" because after the kids, that would change. The times when I have been reminded that I am able to travel for work, meet with friends for dinner, buy the kind of clothes I like and eat what I like is because I haven't got kids.

I have been through that time, when different people tell you not to eat this or that because it affect your chances of having a child, the times when I have been asked not to work so hard, because it will affect my fertility. The times when people smile "stupidly" when you tell them you had the flu, and they ask if it's the "good" flu. The looks they give me when I gain or lose a little weight here and there. 
I have had friends get pregnant and seem to be in turmoil as to whether to share their good news to me and how to tell me, as if they felt guilty or bad for being pregnant.

I have been told that "I should have more faith, because, if it's "really" faith, it must work". I have had a lot of people telling me that I should check myself and ask God for forgiveness for any sins that I might have committed. I have experienced firsthand people praying for me and even going as far as asking God to forgive for the sins of "my youth". I have been asked to go for "deliverance", so that I will be delivered of the "demons" that are blocking me from having children. I have had people coming to my house and then telling me "don't worry, this house won't look so neat, once you have kids".

I have prayed, I have fasted. I have been to doctors,  done all sorts of tests, scans and what-have-you, and we've been told nothing was wrong with either of us. I have done quite a number of IVFs, with all its accompanying psychological pain and associated trauma when it fails. I have taken herbal treatments. I have waited, and waited and waited and now it's almost eleven years, and I'm still waiting, my faith still strong and unflinching.

I am aware that most people act and speak with "good" intentions. I acknowledge that in their minds they want me to be happy and they feel that they are being helpful. I am not saying these things are good or bad, I am not judging anyone, neither am I crying for pity here. I don't love a lot of these people less. I absolutely will not want most of these people to stop being a part of my life. I am just sharing my story, saying it as it has been with me, these past 11 years.

I am still standing tall. My faith is still strong and unmoving. I am still waiting, still believing, still working hard and enjoying my job, still busy with living and loving my life and the people in it.

I'd love to read your comments...!