A Change in Perspective

In 2014, Hubster and I decided to start trying to have a family. We had been advised by my OB/GYN to get after it, because my endometriosis could be dealt with by pregnancy. So we thought we would start trying. After all, we had been married for a little over a year, and we had decided that we wanted to have our first year of marriage all to ourselves.

Things didn't go as planned.

A few months in, no pregnancy. I started reading and learning about cycle charting, basal body thermometers, ovulation predictor kits, and a variety of other tools for helping couples get pregnant. There were more visits to the doctor, more trying to figure out what was going on: my period was missing, then my hormones were crazy, and then and then and then.

We went to a naturopathic doctor, then an acupuncturist. There were herbs, supplements, and protocols.

Then surgery, in September of 2015, called a laparoscopy, meant to excise all the Endometrium implants outside my uterus.

It was deemed a success. I was given a three month round of hormone therapy (mood swings, hot flashes, night sweats), and then given the go-ahead to start trying again.

April of 2016 gave us the news we'd been waiting for: a positive pregnancy test. Then, one short week later, I started to bleed. Then cramp.

And as fast as it had started, it was over.

The rest of 2016 passed for me in a haze of grief and anger and frustration.

A moment of truth hit me in December, just before our baby would have been due. It was perhaps one of the most raw and devastating moments I've ever experienced, but with a lot of prayer and faith and support from Hubster, I've made it out the other side with a completely changed perspective in my endometriosis and infertility.

Hubster has long maintained that he believes that we will get pregnant when the time is right, and the Lord will decide that time. I, being a much more stubborn kind of person, fought that for a long time. But in December, when I finally stilled myself enough to really listen, what I heard was a small voice that whispered, "Wait."

It wasn't what I wanted to hear, but there it was, plain as day.

It's what Hubs had been trying to speak to me for months (years, actually), but I hadn't listened. Talk about a real-life lesson about how the Lord uses your spouse in your life spiritually (but that's another post for another time).

So as we came out of our moment of truth, we made a few decisions: first, we were going to follow the instructions that the doctor had given us at our last appointment, and take a three month round of birth control; and second, when that round of birth control was over, we were going to simply continue on with life (no trying, no stressing, just continuing forward); and third, we were going to seek medical treatment to deal with my endometriosis (symptoms of which had recurred).

It's crazy how one change in perspective can change your whole life, because letting go of trying to have a baby has completely changed my life, in several ways.

To start with, I don't feel the devastation that used to plague me on a regular basis. I still feel sad sometimes about our inability to start a family, and about our miscarriage loss (you can read about that here and here), but it doesn't debilitate me like it used to. I've come to a place where I can live with the possibility that Hubster and I might not ever have children.

The second part is that I've come to terms with viewing my endometriosis as a medical condition separate from infertility. You see, endometriosis affects my life in much bigger ways than just my fertility. I have a range of symptoms that vary from not-that-big-of-a-deal to a serious problem. Without the added stress of trying to make a baby, I think we're actually making some progress in dealing with a problem that has much bigger implications for me.

I've said many times that I wish I could go back to the girl I was when Hubs and I got married: to me, she was far more carefree and joyful than the woman I've been living with for the past few years. But in the past six months, I have finally started to feel like myself again. I won't ever be the girl I was when I got married, because that was almost five years ago now, and life changes us. We grow and mature and (hopefully) become better versions of ourselves. Going through infertility and a miscarriage have changed me, but I think that it's changed me for the better now, not for worse.

I am so thankful for Hubs' faithfulness and support through this process, as well as the myriads of people that have been praying for us as we've been walking this road. I am grateful that no matter where I go, the Lord is faithful to stay with me, guiding and comforting and quietly calling me back when I get stubborn and frustrated.

And I am so thankful that I've found other women who struggle with endometriosis and fertility just like I do. They have been encouraging and helpful and comforted me in knowing that I'm not alone.

In fact, it's been one of those awesome women who recently shared the information for an Endometriosis Clinic in Salt Lake, which is run by--get this--an endometriosis specialist. I had no idea that such a thing even existed (and from what my friend tells me, there's only about 100 of them in the world), because in all my appointments and time in OB/GYN clinics, literally no one ever mentioned seeing an endo specialist.

So, armed with our new perspective, Hubs and I are making the trek to Salt Lake in August to chat with an endo specialist about next steps for treatment. I'm hoping that this doctor will have some more effective ways to treat my endo as we go forward.

And, if that treatment helps us have a baby sometime down the road? That will be awesome. But if it only serves to help alleviate symptoms and improve overall health, that will be great too. Whenever I feel discouraged about the pregnancy thing, I remember the sound of that small voice that whispered, "wait."