It has almost been a year since we began writing this blog. For those of you who have been following, you know that sooooo much has happened in that time.... We've come a long way from where we started.
As part of our participation in National Infertility Awareness Week and their #startasking campaign, I've decided to do a re-posting of that very first entry (#tbt). It was a hard one to write because for the first time ever, I was going to be very public about something I had kept very private for so long.
When I was first diagnosed, I didn't ask a single question. I had no idea what to ask. I didn't know where to get support or who I could turn to. I had zero resources at the time and it took me 10 years to build up the courage to start asking questions.
We started this blog, inspired by other women and men, whom we'd found through blogs and support groups, who have helped us not only find answers, but find the right questions. And we haven't stopped asking questions since.
RESOLVE.ORG is an awesome resource and a great place to start asking. I found them a couple of years ago, during NIAW, through a blog I was reading at the time. They are an advocacy group for the infertility community and help bring light to a diverse range of issues. I'm happy to be posting in connection with them today.
So here is our very first entry from May of last year.
Erika:
I wanted to start a blog before I turned 30. So I did. I’d planned to one day use it to discuss all things baby-making. I thought when I turned 30 I could start the conversation. Then I decided to wait till I was 31, since that is how old my mom was when she had me. But we knew we were still a ways away from really moving forward, and so, we waited.
In that wait time,
...we traveled.
...I became full time at work.
...we did research and waited for doors to open.
...we did research and waited for doors to open.
...we prayed and figured out which doors we would be walking through first.
...we shared our story with close friends and family.
...we continued to breathe.
We continued the journey.
And now I’m 33. (Luis’ favorite number.) I know it’s more typical to say that we took things one day at a time or one step at a time. But there were moments when we couldn’t step anywhere. For whatever reason, someone had called a “time-out.” And so we’d wait… and though we may not have been moving forward, we always continued to breathe.
And now I’m 33. (Luis’ favorite number.) I know it’s more typical to say that we took things one day at a time or one step at a time. But there were moments when we couldn’t step anywhere. For whatever reason, someone had called a “time-out.” And so we’d wait… and though we may not have been moving forward, we always continued to breathe.
Breathe in faith… breathe out fear.
And now we’re ready. One breath closer, we’re ready to share our journey.
Here it goes…
At the age of about 20, I got news no one expects to hear.
“You’ll never be able to carry a baby.”
Never? Like, never never? The Dr. assured me. Never. In that moment, sitting in his office, holding a picture of my insides that made it very clear... that word gave me a sense of total hopelessness. In my mind he had just said, “You will never be a mother.”
Keep in mind... he just told that to a person who had breast-fed and birthed nearly ALL of her dolls growing up. I played the mommy game. And I played it well.
At the time, the shock prevented me from asking questions or seeking out support.
I remember the day… and I remember driving my ‘89 red corolla around for a really long time. A really long time. And then I found myself at Luis’ house. Out of high school, just over a year… this news was going to end it all.
The relationship was over.
“You’ll never be able to carry a baby.”
Never? Like, never never? The Dr. assured me. Never. In that moment, sitting in his office, holding a picture of my insides that made it very clear... that word gave me a sense of total hopelessness. In my mind he had just said, “You will never be a mother.”
Keep in mind... he just told that to a person who had breast-fed and birthed nearly ALL of her dolls growing up. I played the mommy game. And I played it well.
At the time, the shock prevented me from asking questions or seeking out support.
I remember the day… and I remember driving my ‘89 red corolla around for a really long time. A really long time. And then I found myself at Luis’ house. Out of high school, just over a year… this news was going to end it all.
The relationship was over.
I told him. He listened. I was ready to walk out and he said… with an unnatural certainty that no sophomore in college could ever have… “We’ll have a family one day.” He said more, but that’s all I heard. It was as simple as that.
It was that hope that got me through the last 13 years. Not to say it was easy… not at all. I’ve dealt with my share of major lows in this time, but I came out of it knowing “we’ll have a family one day.” It took years to grieve the loss of a belly I would never have. Once I fully accepted that, I was able to focus on the baby that I one day would have. It was the joy, in that hope that I found, that got me through it.
One other thing that has really helped in just the last year, sharing. We have finally told family and friends about the situation. For years I was terrified that we would be met with tilted, sorrow-filled heads and pity-filled hearts. I could NOT have been more wrong. Everyone has been SO crazy supportive, curious, encouraging, positive, and loving. A few tears, but all filled with joy and excitement (and some laughter) at the thought of seeing Luis and Erika become parents. Everyone thought babies were the last thing on our mind, when really… babies were always the goal. We didn’t want to necessarily discuss it till we had to.
It’s time.
It’s time.
This is for people to follow if they want to stay caught up on our journey.
My hope is that through this blog people will realize that road-blocks in baby-making are a lot more common than people think. We need to take the shame out of it. Just in the last year I have connected with so many others who’ve had their own struggles and it’s been great to connect and add to the collective sense of hope. Luis:
It is only fitting that I start writing this returning from Las Vegas. It would serve as a great metaphor for what our life has been like. We have made some major gambles, double downs, stay, parlays. Winning a few here and there along with some losses. However, I hope that our biggest win is still to come.
I suppose this might be an insight to my thoughts and feelings. They do not come out much on a regular basis. Not that I don’t have any, but more so that I try to keep busy so I don’t have to think about it. Do I feel NUMB? Not really. Just putting things that might cause pain to stay at a distance. This whole process has not brought us pain and I don’t figure it will. We have tried to keep things positive. Understanding that there are no wrong choices or bad outcomes. Things happen just as they are suppose to. With a purpose. With cause. It's tough to think that the things we have decided on doing are the way things are suppose to happen. But God has the plan.
I would hope that if you read any of this, you would get a chance to know what it’s like to be in our situation. We have all been given things to overcome in life. No one gets a free pass. Ours just happens to be one that’s not really discussed socially. Infertility is almost as taboo as sex. Only we don’t really make light of infertility. Unable to have children… yikes, it’s heavy to think about. It’s tough to swallow, the thought of not having a father daughter/son relationship. As much as we may love or hate our parents the fact remains that we have one. At some point all of us think about being parents. It’s in our nature. Our survivability.
What drives me to be a dad? Relationships. I have this unexplained gut feeling that I HAVE to be a dad. I’m ready to be one. Some of us don’t have a choice in when we do become parents. BUT since we do, I’m happy that it’s starting now. Not for selfish reasons, but for the relationship that I want to build. A life long commitment. An accountability for more than just me. "Aren’t you married?" Ya, and I’m sure Erika would agree that we might love our child beyond the love we know for each other. I want to be part of that.
I would also add that I’m open to talk. We have held this in for more than 10 years. I guess I would like to talk. About whatever. No bad questions. There are no, “should I have not asked?” questions. And if you don’t want to talk, that’s ok too. But encouragement is always appreciated. A hug, handshake, comment, wink, smile, “like,” whatever works. We’ll add to the story a little bit at a time. For now, we leave you with this:
“As much as we have enjoyed our travels, we have always known that there would one day be an even bigger and more exciting journey ...more rewarding than all of them combined. Our life together, thus far, has been in preparation for our next “trip.” It’s been a preparation for you.”
---excerpt from a letter to our baby
