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I hung up the phone and was in tears. I know I’m broken, why does everyone have to act surprised, in shock when they talk to me? I’m fully aware that my body doesn’t work. Don’t you think I want to get pregnant? Don’t you think I want another baby just as badly as the next person? This is the second time I have gone through this. It doesn’t hurt any less and at this point it’s not new news to me.
I had just gotten off the phone with the nurse, talking about when the Doctor’s next IVF cycle was so that we could possibly see if we could afford it this time. She asked me when my next cycle was…I answered her, well I don’t have them, so honestly I’m not sure. I have always had to take medication to start and even sometimes that doesn’t work. Then she said, “So you haven’t had one? You don’t know when your next one is?” in what sounded like a snarky tone (though it very well could have been that I’m sensitive to begin with). No, I don’t. I really don’t know, I couldn’t tell you any of that. I got off the phone and honestly felt defeated. It wasn’t her fault, every person’s case is so different. This was my own battle. The very same battle I have been fighting for years.
I’m broken. No one can fix me, my body literally can’t do the one thing that as women we were essentially “designed” to do. I felt disgusted with myself. I looked in the mirror and picked apart, every, single, piece of it. Not only was I broken, not only was I not able to grow my family, to give my sweet girl a sister or to you know, do the one thing I’m “supposed” to be able to do, but at this point I was disgusted with every aspect of my body. I’m hot all the time because my hormones are out of whack, I looked in the mirror and thought, gosh you need to lose weight, look at the hair on your chin — that’s disgusting and welp, just another side affect because your body doesn’t work properly. Tears were streaming down my face and honestly, I couldn’t even bear looking at myself for one more second.
I walked away from the mirror, changed my clothes into baggy ones and tossed away the once again, negative pregnancy test, I had just taken. Then I sat there on the bed, sobbing, trying to pull myself back together before my sweet angel baby woke up from her nap and trying to remind myself that it’s going to be fine, I have one angel baby, that’s all I need, if anything she will just be spoiled and loved even more.
Then it hit me, the words my husband spoke the night before.
“You’re not broken, you were designed exactly how you’re supposed to be.”
Were those words true? I mean, is that really a thing or was he just trying to make me feel better? Or does maybe God know what’s best for me? I mean, if it’s supposed to be like this, if I was designed like this, why can’t I just accept it? Why can’t I just be happy? I mean, I HATE when people tell me “in God’s timing it will happen..” — well God’s timing isn’t fast enough. Doesn’t he know that I want this to happen right now, right this second? Doesn’t he hear me cry every night and beg for answers?
Then it hit me. Blake, Blake came at exactly the right time, the exact moment that she was supposed to come. I prayed, I begged for years for her, I felt like that first month that we started trying was the right time, that’s when I was supposed to be a Mom, but it didn’t happen. Then more months went by, more years and still nothing until one day, one day I finally got that positive and it was perfect. The moment she was born, I knew I could not have handled Motherhood before that. I thought I could, but God knows me better. I probably could have handled it, but I couldn’t have been the Mother that I so badly wanted to be until that moment. Things weren’t in line yet until that very second.
Does that mean it wasn’t hard? Nope, it was probably one of the most painful things I have ever felt. Does that mean that right now it’s not hard again, even knowing that it was in perfect timing last time? Nope. I have zero patience, in fact maybe that’s the lesson I am being taught. But it’s in recognizing, knowing that well…maybe I’m not broken. Maybe my body was designed exactly how it was, in this unique way because of the plan that my life has because of circumstances that we will face, that we do face because of opportunities we will be given.
I was created this way for a very special reason, I’m not broken. In fact, God knew exactly what he was doing when he made me. I might not fully understand it, but it’s about putting my trust in him and believing in my body. In fact, that’s been one of the hardest parts about this entire infertility journey I’ve been on. The entire concept of just loving my body, of accepting it, of believing that I’m not flawed, but rather unique and special because it was created the way it is for a purpose and a plan.
So rather than talking negatively, focusing on the things I think my body does wrong, I’ll focus on trusting, growing and waiting to find out why. Which is equally painful in itself, but one step at a time, one step at a time…and right now, that step is loving me and all that my body does for me.