Wow. A new year. A NEW YEAR. Say it with me… A NEW YEAR. I hate to be so predictable but I can’t help but want to write a post in reflection of all the ups and downs of 2015.
It was only one year ago exactly that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place asking myself “what the hell am I going to do?” It was one year ago that I had officially 3 failed IUI’s under my belt, 1 chemical pregnancy, and a hefty medical bill. Oh, and a few extra pounds. #ThanksProgesterone.
It was only one year ago I had already spent 4 dedicated months to cutting down exercise to nearly nothing. Increasing my calories by at least 500 a day. And “relaxing” more. (My diagnosis
is was Hypothalamic Amenorrhea – I’ll get into the details of that diagnosis some other time. But in short, my cycle stopped due to too much exercise and not enough nutrition) This sounds fun… not working out very much… eating more… but if you know me, you know this is a scarier version of hell. Not to be dramatic or anything.
It was exactly one year ago I started to seriously question if I would ever be a mom. I wondered why when all variables that were necessary to get pregnant were happening, and it wasn’t happening.
• A Follicle Growing – √ #ThanksLetrozol
• Regular monitoring – √
• Trigger shot – √ #ThanksOvidrel
• Precisely Timed Ovulation – √
• A nice, thick lining – √ #ThanksProgesterone
And even at the end of the two week wait… I got a period. So I know everything that needed to happen to get pregnant… happened… but I didn’t get pregnant.
So, what in the Hell?
I spent the Holidays last year with a glass of wine glued to my hand. A brave face. And a positive outlook for the future. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t secretly scared.
Will I ever get pregnant?
The year continued with each month passing slower than the last. A failed IVF was the sugar on top. Oh and now I’m super broke. And my pants don’t fit. And then it was summer. #TimeForWine.
And somehow the time passed. Somehow. Somehow the seconds, minutes, and hours passed. Somehow a year has passed.
And here I am today. One year later. With a bulge the size of an avocado stretching out my belly. I did get pregnant. I am pregnant. Everything is going to be okay. And this all might actually work. We might actually get a baby. We are going to get a baby. We are going to have a baby. Seriously. SERIOUSLY.
It’s okay to dream. It’s okay to know it will get better. It’s okay to have doubts. It’s even better to cover those doubts in a blanket of hopeful visions. A vision that hard work pays off. That the debt it worth it. That the pain is worth it. The tears are worth it. That at some point… it might all actually work.
So I sit here. Hungry. Thankful. Larger. Poorer. Richer. Happier… than ever before. I sit here with a hopeful heart. With a grateful heart. And a heart that feels so deeply for those that believe HARD WORK PAYS OFF. It pays off, people. It fucking pays off.
DAMN. That feels good to say!
And to top it all off… we are in the one year countdown of residency. There’s light. I see it. Everything is finally falling into place. Hard work really DOES pay off. Light. Focus on the light! It’s coming!
So if you can, chug some champagne. Please. Because it’s going to be a hell of a year. Challenges are ahead. Tears of joy are ahead. Tears from stress are ahead. But this is going to be a good fucking year.
Here’s my long ass New Years cheers!
Cheers. Cheers to all of you. Strangers and otherwise. You made me feel like freakin’ superwoman when I felt like Eeyore.
Cheers to anyone on the road of infertility (You better be cheers-ing or else we can’t be friends).
Cheers to all my residency spouses– #JustKeepSwimming.
Cheers to my husband who works a 14 hour day to come home and listen to me complain about GI issues. Bless him.
Cheers to my mom who I call every day and I’m sure was really REALLY sick of me talking about infertility (sorry mom, there’s still residency to complain about). You’re a rock.
Cheers to my Dad who called me during my first IVF cycle and asked “how are those follicles growing? Your mom said you have some.”
Cheers to my sister Allison who gave me multiple shots, sometimes in the butt, sometimes in my stomach. She also came to my first appointment to hear the baby’s heartbeat and then bought me breakfast.
Cheers to my sister Morgan who was always a supportive ear, shared her children with me as I treated them like they were mine, and made me feel hopeful.
Cheers to my brave friends who gave me shots when we were out to dinner or in the car (not you, Theresa!! #ScardyCat)
Cheers to ALL my friends who read my blog, follow my Instagram and ask me questions.
Cheers to my extended family who subscribe to my blog and have been rooting for me during hard times.
This year I have felt like there’s an army of support. An army of badasses. An army. I’m forever grateful.
Cheers, damnit. Now drink!
#SomeoneShutMeUp #SeacrestOut #CHEEEEEEEEERS #ISwearImNotDrunk