Friends and Infertility

This past week I was very lucky to be able to fly to Switzerland to visit my old friends, colleagues, and students. It had been ten months since my last visit, and everything seemed to have stayed the same, even though I have changed. I spent my days rushing from one place to another, trying to squeeze everyone in, and all in all I think I succeeded. By the end of the six days I was exhausted and coming down with a cold (typical of my time there!).

Do you ever take a step back from your life and really examine the friends and acquaintances who fill it? Leaving Switzerland allowed me this option, and this trip back highlighted the friends I can rely on and trust, and the friends who are too wrapped up in their own lives to pay attention to others. 

Many of my friends wanted to hear about my big round-the-world trip. Most asked how the life and job in my new home were. Some of my friends wanted to know how I was doing - was I settling in okay? Was I making friends? Was I happy? Even fewer friends were interested (and then very supportive) about this new struggle I am working through. It felt like such a relief to talk about it with some real, live, people (not just my lovely husband!). Friends who know who I am and what I want most, friends who comfort me and tell me I can call anytime, no matter what. I can count these friends on one hand, and that's okay.

Other friends were too busy telling me about their own life/work/pregnancy/baby to actually have a conversation with me. It's not that I need to bitch and moan all day, or go on and on about everything related to me - but this is a part of my life, a big part, and if you're truly my friend it's probably better if you know at least a little bit about what's happening in it. Some of my "friends" never took a moment to ask.

Of course one of the hardest parts about visiting so many people were the near-constant comments about how it was time to start a family with my big, family home and family-centered neighborhood. I tried to fend this one off by always holding a glass (or a bottle) of wine. When I mentioned we're trying, and that it's taking longer than we'd like, of course I got the whole range of unhelpful remarks:

"It'll be your turn soon"
"Oh just relax, it'll happen"
"Enjoy your life while you have it!"
"You're so young"
"Insert every other insensitive comment you can think of - I'm sure I heard it this weekend"

And if the person I was talking to was someone I regarded as being a close friend, and I confided the actual situation I was in, then usually out came the stories...

"My uncle's cousin's niece had PCOS and she had 3 kids!"
"I had a colleague whose daughter had endo and she got pregnant!"
"So and so tried for years and then when she stopped trying she got pregnant right away!"
"There was a girl a work who adopted and then she was pregnant with twins!"
"Insert your own story of some random person who got pregnant even though it was difficult"

I'm not sure if these stories help me or make me feel worse. I think people tell them because they want to give me hope. But that person in the story and their problems (even if they have PCOS or endo), will never be the same as me and mine. What worked for them might not work for me, or for any other woman for that matter. There is no magic infertility pill. It almost feels like salt in a wound - look at these women who can get pregnant despite their problems and you can't! Unless it was someone who is currently struggling with infertility, or has struggled in the past, it seemed people just didn't know how to react.  

Overall I think I came back from my trip with a better idea of the friends I could trust, the friends I would continue to talk to, and the friends I would no longer put in the effort with. I think it's important to know who those real friends are, as they can help lighten your load and remind you that no matter what you are going through, you aren't alone. 

Saying Congratulations! (Without a Breakdown)

When you're struggling with your own infertility, one of the hardest moments is finding out a friend is pregnant. This is likely to happen over and over again, since your friends are normally a similar age to you. The longer you struggle with infertility, the more of your friends and acquaintances will seem to fall pregnant around you - they will be everywhere. For me, I've had 7 close friends announce their baby news in the last 9 months, and countless more acquaintances. 

The second hardest moment is saying, "Congratulations, I'm so happy for you!" without breaking down into tears. 

I think one of the reasons this is so difficult to deal with is the fact that very few people share their baby-making plans, their struggles, their disappointments, their frustration, and their sadness. So many women who are trying to fall pregnant wear a mask on the outside, and keep these personal details to themselves. I completely understand - deciding to start a family and then the actual trying is quite personal. It might look like I'm being very open about my struggle through this blog, but keep in mind that I haven't shared the link here to any of my "real life" friends. If you're reading this, chances are we've never met each other. So yes, I'm sharing, but anonymously, because writing helps me work through my emotions.

Because people are so quiet about their struggles, it might seem that everyone becomes pregnant so easily, without trying, without intervention, without pain or loss. This is not always the case - remember 1 in 8 couples face infertility. That's a lot of people out there that it didn't just happen for.

One of my friends just called me this morning to let me know her happy news before I arrived for my visit. I managed to say the "Congratulations!" without crying (go me!), and I really did mean it. I remember years ago speaking with her about having kids, and she wasn't sure she's be able to have them due to her age. On the phone she confided that they had been trying for years, had suffered through a miscarriage, and were about to take the next steps with medical intervention when they got their miracle baby. If she hadn't shared this information, it would have been easy to view her as just another pregnant friend. Instead, she helped take a bit of the sting out of her announcement and I am truly happy she is on her way to motherhood after everything she's gone through. I wish I had known sooner so I could have offered her support.

Remembering that everyone has their own struggles can help ease the pain of finding out yet another friend is pregnant. It's a long, hard road we are walking, and we are not alone.  

There's Never a Good Moment

As I wait anxiously to be able to start Provera to bring on a period and then actually start my first medicated cycle with Clomid, so much has been happening in life. The most exciting event is that I am visiting Switzerland in a few days to see all my old friends, colleagues and students. Just planning for that is mind-boggling, trying to piece each friend into this slot or that. Since I'm not pregnant, I figure I might as well enjoy the all-you-can-drink wine event happening that weekend. There have to be some advantages of not being knocked up, right?

The school I work for (online) is expanding, and I have been offered several travel opportunities in the near future. I might be able to visit North Carolina for a few weeks to help with an opening of a new branch of our school. Then maybe, some time in the future, I could travel to China for a teacher exchange! Both of these options sound amazing (I love to travel!), but a part of me feels like I shouldn't even consider it. These next few months are already so packed - Switzerland; an anniversary getaway; Amsterdam for a long weekend; two weeks in America; August back-to-back full of visitors - how can I even think about adding more on my plate along with the baby-making plans? 

But as a lovely friend of mine pointed out, there is never a good moment to start a family. For me, having a baby is #1 on my list. I want it more than I could even begin to describe. Unfortunately, trying to conceive with PCOS and endometriosis is so uncertain that it could take years - or it could happen tomorrow - or it may never happen. As I explored in a previous post, if you don't keep living your life and planning for the future, this process of trying to become pregnant can destroy you. Alternately, I don't want to miss any chances of falling pregnant just because I was so busy living. Sigh. Is there any right answer?

Unfortunately, I can't just "try" every few weeks in a relaxed and natural way. I need pills to start a period, pills to cause follicle maturation, constant monitoring and blood draws, and injections to force ovulation, then more monitoring and blood draws. With that in mind, trying to get pregnant can easily be equated to staying at home and doing nothing except attending doctor's appointments. It can be hard to continue enjoying life when that might be all your future holds for you.

Or maybe I'm over thinking it and my first Clomid cycle will be successful and BAM, it'll be baby time. 

The uncertainty is killing me. I'm a planner and I can't plan ANYTHING. But I suppose, as long as I remember that it will never be a good time, I can just do the best I can as things come my way. 

What do the next few weeks hold for me? Only time will tell!

What Not To Say

Since starting our TTC journey in August 2014, and going through emotion after emotion and test after test, I can most definitely tell you the things NOT to say to someone with PCOS who is wishing for their rainbow baby. You might think you are being helpful or kind, but some of these comments are frustrating, hurtful, or upsetting. And most of the time we know you are just trying to be nice, and trying to find a way to make us feel better - especially if you happen to fall pregnant very easily - because you don't really know what to say. Because it was just infertility awareness week, Huff Post did an article about 27 Things People Struggling with Infertility Want You to Know. It's pretty comprehensive, so you can read women's thoughts there too. But really, it's better not to even think these phrases:

1) So when are you two planning on starting a family?
Well meaning grandmas, cousins, extended family and friends love this question. Especially if you've been with your partner for a while and all of your friends/siblings/cousins/neighbors are having their first (or second!) kid. But this question is so hard to answer, because we WANT a family now, but it's not happening. I can't just order a baby and have it arrive. And every time you ask me about kids, I feel like a failure and my heart rips a little bit more. And then I just try to hid all the feelings and smile and say, "We're trying now, it's just taking a while". You probably don't want to hear about my fertility woes, so keep this question to yourself.

2) Just relax and stop trying, it will happen soon.
Do you really think that "not trying" is the answer? Do you know anything about how someone gets pregnant? Apparently not...

3) You're so young, there's no reason to worry!
Every day you get older, your fertility decreases. So yes, I am worried. I'm worried that nearly a year ago when we started (and I was younger and more fertile) I couldn't get pregnant. So now that I'm older and I continue to get older I shouldn't worry just because in your eyes I'm "young"? Yeah. Thanks for that. 

4) You have lots of time! You practically just started trying!
In women with PCOS, we don't get 12 chances a year. With long cycles and unpredictable ovulation, we may only have a chance or two if we're lucky. Every year. Think about that probability. Does it seem like we have a lot of time?

5) Just adopt, you'll get pregnant!
Often said in a joking way, I hate this one. First, it assumes that adopting will magically make everything okay. Second, because people forget how long it takes to adopt. You might get pregnant while adopting. You might not. If you've been trying 5 years and it takes 2 more years to adopt, that's still 7 years so you might have gotten pregnant anyways. Adopting is not a magic fix-all solution. It's a wonderful one for many people, but it won't just make you pregnant.

6) It's just not your time yet, but it will be.
Is there a magic number of women who are allowed to get pregnant each month? So the quota was full this month? ARGH! But some month you assume I will, in fact, get pregnant. Can you promise me that?

7) If you stress about it, you won't get pregnant. Just enjoy it!
As one of my TTC buddies stated, all the Zen in the world is not going to regulate my hormones! Women with PCOS often can't ovulate on their own. No ovulation = no egg = no babies. I can meditate all day long, but it's not going to affect my fertility. Studies have shown acute stress might delay ovulation for a day or two, but it will not stop a woman from ovulating completely. The stress thing is just a myth, so stop repeating it!

8) You're so lucky you don't have kids yet! Enjoy "you" time/time with your husband/time to travel/sleeping in/a clean house/ etc.
When you say something like this you are telling me that I'm lucky that I don't have the one thing I long for the most. It makes me angry because it feels like you aren't grateful for what you have (even though you probably are), and that you don't understand that I already KNOW kids are a challenge and change your life completely. But I WANT that challenge and change more than anything! So no, I'm not "lucky" that I don't have kids yet (but YES I am guzzling the wine, because it dulls the pain a little!).

9) You're trying too hard! You don't need to see a doctor or get any treatment. 
Some people might worry needlessly about getting pregnant after trying for a few months. Most women without complications will fall pregnant within the first year of trying. But women with PCOS should begin intervention sooner rather than later. I'm not saying we should jump right to IVF, but you should find out what works, what doesn't and then take steps forward to make it happen. Sure, some women with PCOS might get pregnant on their own, but most won't. We need help and waiting a whole year to seek help isn't going to increase our chances of getting pregnant. 

10) My husband just looks at me and *BAM* I'm pregnant OR I was so excited I got pregnant the first month! It was so easy!
First, I'm very happy for you. I love babies and if you got the baby you wanted, that's amazing. Really. I promise I'm happy for you. But also I'm angry and jealous and frustrated. Not at you, but at the world for making it so easy for some and so difficult for others. You certainly don't need to rub more salt in my aching wound. 

So what can you say? Instead of offering advice, or telling us it will be okay, just listen. We probably need someone to talk to, someone who can just lend a sympathetic ear. Often we bombard our partners with our feelings, thoughts, hopes and dreams, but hide them from everyone else because infertility isn't something you are supposed to talk about. But we are bursting to share about it, because honestly, it is the biggest thing in our lives and we need all the support we can get. 

Any other PCOS ladies out there want to chime in with comments I've missed?

Rubella and A Break

After meeting with our fertility doctor, he mentioned that the results from my blood tests showed that I was not immune to Rubella. I found this strange, as I had the Measles/Mumps/Rubella (MMR) vaccine as an infant, then the booster as a child. This is a problem because if you are not immune and fall pregnant, then contract Rubella, the consequences are severe - including miscarriage, stillbirth, or birth defects. Before we can start with our great big plan of attack at the fertility clinic, I would need another Rubella vaccination. 

Now I am all for protecting any future babies, so of course I called my local medical practice right up to make an appointment. The problem with the Rubella vaccine is that, because it is a weakened live version of the virus, you cannot attempt pregnancy for at least a month afterwards. 

So this month we are officially forced to take "a break". Next month is when the whole circus will start, so I guess it's a nice little recuperation time for us. I've oscillated between being grateful to be less focused on my temperature, cervical mucus (cm) and the ever present "am I, aren't I" ovulating question, and feeling really frustrated that we're missing another opportunity and chance to make something special. Then, because there is nothing I can do about it, I let it go.

I do have a lot going on in the next few weeks, with a trip planned to visit friends, wine tasting, date nights, anniversary getaways, I guess the timing couldn't be much better. I know my husband feels a certain sense of relief at no longer being called on in a moment's notice whenever I show the slightest hint of ovulation. Four months straight of being "on call" with no end in sight was exhausting, I know. Hopefully when next month comes and we need timed intercourse (to go along with our trigger), he and I will be ready and refreshed and it will be mentally easier for both of us. With the near-daily ultrasounds and constant monitoring I'll have, at least a lot of the unknowns will be removed from the equation. 

So that's our latest update - with the vaccine already in me, I've got two weeks until I start Provera to bring on a period, then I can begin Clomid on days 3-7 of my cycle, and then we wait and watch for maturing follicles and trigger the release of an egg! A month seems long, but I'm hoping this one will speed by and get us closer to our next chance of our rainbow baby. 

Plan of Attack

Today was the moment I have waited for since my referral in January - I had my appointment at the fertility clinic and met my new doctor!

I had no idea to expect, but this doctor has met all of my expectations, and exceeded some. He wanted to know about me - everything about me including all my past experiences, birth control, medical problems, surgeries, etc. He wanted to know our time-scale (did we want to be pregnant now? or in the future?), and when I emphatically said, "NOW!" he was poised and ready for action. 

A quick internal ultrasound (I'm getting so used to these!), and weighing in on my medical history, he made a plan of attack.

Clearly, he said, my hormones are out of whack. Clearly, I'm not going to be ovulating on my own. I'm CD 16 and, from my scans, not likely to ovulate any time in the future. So, we are going to bring on a period with Provera, then start me on Clomid with a trigger shot and constant monitoring. He wants to be as involved as possible and be able to make changes as needed throughout my next cycle.

One little set back is that it appears I am not immune to rubella, despite just getting my booster shots just last year. So I've made an appointment with my GP to get this done next week, and then I have to wait 2 weeks before starting Provera. After that, it's Clomid days 3-7, then near daily monitoring from CD day 12 onwards. When they see a follicle ready, they'll trigger its release and BAM! It's baby making time!

If that round doesn't work, they'll up the dosage on Clomid until it DOES work. And if, for some reason, it still isn't working, we'll have another meeting to find a different plan. My doctor isn't the wait and see type of person. He's trying to help me pregnant ASAP. Yay! Someone in my corner!

This is the moment I am beyond grateful that my hubby's little swimmers are superstars without a single abnormality to speak of. My tubes are clear, my uterus and lining looks good, the endometriosis is gone for now, all of my ovarian cysts are of manageable size... it kind of feels like now or never. 

So with this plan of attack, I feel so much more calm. Something will actually be happening. Not in 3-4 months, but in a few weeks. We actually, really, have a chance this time. Less guess work, more possibility! I even took my planner out to look at "how pregnant I'd be" by this date or that. Then I quickly closed the planner before I got too far ahead of myself. I've done this before - tried to plan ahead, thinking it would happen swiftly and easily - and that left me more devastated than ever. 

This is a great plan, and I'm happy to moving forward in leaps and bounds instead of inches. But I shouldn't jump to the finish line yet, nothing is promised or guaranteed. Still, I can't help but smile. Something good might be happening soon, so I'll keep up the positive thinking and cross my fingers and toes. 

Another Year Older

It's my birthday today, and I promised myself I wouldn't dwell on anything sad. Today was reserved for movies, and margaritas and friends and chocolate. So I'll allow myself just a moment of honesty before returning to my celebratory day. That's not dwelling, is it? Not if you just allow yourself a fleeting second to consider what a new year will bring?

I am not ready to be a year older. I know 29 might not seem old to most people. 

"Still in your twenties! So young! So much time!" everyone replies to me, dismissing my fears and insecurities with incredible speed.

But those of us facing fertility roadblocks don't necessarily have a lot of time. Every month counts. Every month our chances decrease.

This sounds very negative, but all I really mean to say is - I'm just not ready to get any older. I'm not ready for the challenge to get any larger. I thought by 28 I'd be pregnant and 29 be a mother. And now we have absolutely no idea when, or if, that will happen.

How naive we all are when we are younger, planning out our lives as if they were something we could plan. As if we could CHOSE when to have children. I wish I had known better then to plan better now. Sigh. Some things are just in the category of too little, too late. Baby planning, it seems, is one of those.

So I'm not ready to be 29 - one year closer to thirty - because it only means more difficulty. And wasn't this year difficult and heartbreaking enough?

But who knows, maybe this year will be my miracle year. Maybe everything will work out and go right and something amazing will happen. 

Maybe, just maybe, 29 will be the best year yet. And then I won't mind being another year older. 

All the Options

Today, sitting around recovering from my laparoscopic surgery and being a completely useless lump, I stumbled from one website to another to try to pass the time. I've found my pain meds make me spacey, so I'm taking off a bit of time for work. Free time = too much thinking = too much internet searching = depressing. 

At first I was just looking to find success stories from other ladies who had both PCOS and endometriosis. Let me tell you, the results were not very promising. Then one click lead to another (you know how the internet is), and I was reading an article about what three women did when faced with infertility.

The first woman decided treatment wasn't for her, and she made peace with never being a mother. I know that this is something that will never be okay with me.

The second woman decided to say no to invasive treatments due to recurrent miscarriages, and miraculously ended up pregnant on her own. Hurray! Success for someone!

The third woman decided to opt for adoption, and fell pregnant two more times after. This helps reinforce that myth that if you want to be pregnant, just adopt!

These stories got me on to thinking how far down the rabbit hole I want to go with this whole infertility deal. Am I up for being poked and prodded and stuffed full of drugs? And then after all of that, it may not work? I guess for now, my answer is yes - I am willing to try everything: up to and including IVF. Becoming a mom has always been a dream of mine, right up there with finding the love of my life (check), becoming a teacher (check), and traveling the world (check). 

And then my mind went on to the "what if...?" How many years am I going to try drugs and treatments and invasive surgeries? How many years should you hold on to hope and keep trying? At what point do you decide, "This isn't going to happen"? After all, our chances get worse every year as egg quality declines - how much torture should we subject ourselves to?

I'm not going to lie, a small part of me is absolutely terrified by the "what ifs". I have to remember that maybe everything will be okay before I have to face most of these options. But then again, maybe it won't be okay. In life, nothing is guaranteed. 

Since I want more than anything to be a mom, is adoption ever going to be an answer for me? I know it is a wonderful thing to offer a child a home, but it isn't a cure-all bandaid for infertility. I can't just adopt a child and pretend like I never wanted to grow a baby in my tummy, to create a child that's half me and half my husband. How do people even make this decision, I asked myself. And would my husband ever want to adopt? Adopting a child is a decision two have to make, and it's a pretty big decision that also says, "We gave up."

And then, because I'm clearly trying to make my life as miserable as possible, I started looking up adoption protocol in Scotland. Approval times (long), home visits (many), matching (stressful), it could all take years and still might end in heartbreak. The chances of getting a baby are extremely slim, and at the risk of sounding selfish, I really want a baby. I don't want my first time as a mommy to start with a four-year-old who can already walk and talk. I always kept adoption in the back of my mind as an option, but now - I'm just not so sure. 

One of the things that has kept me sane for the last few months was knowing there were more options out there for me. So I'm going to pull back from the adoption option for a while and look at all the wonderful miraculous options that science has to offer those of us who struggle with infertility.

• Surgery - Depending on the need, some women undergo laparscopic surgery to fix known or suspected problems. A woman with PCOS may undergo ovarian drilling - when your cysts are popped and drained. Or if you are suspected to have adhesions, blocked tubes, or endometriosis, the doctors may go in to clear the way and dispose of any problems they find. Some women claim that after laparascopy and an HSG you are "superfertile" because everything is free and clear for the sperm to meet egg. This hasn't been proven in any medical journals of course, but I'll take positive news wherever I can get it.  
• Drugs - Usually the first step after tests confirm whatever fertility issue you have, because they are the least invasive. For PCOS, many women are prescribed metformin (Glucophage) which regulates the amount of glucose in your blood and seems to help shorten cycles. Then Clomid (clomiphene) is often prescribed to induce ovulation. Sometimes this requires monitoring through ultrasounds and blood tests to confirm ovulation. It seems the general consensus is to find the lowest dosage that results in ovulation, and only try for 6 cycles. Some women do not ovulate on Clomid, and so Femara (letrozole) can be tried. This seems to be the end of the road for the simple, oral fertility drugs. 
• Injections - There are a range of different injectable drugs (Gonal-F, GnRH, HcG, and many more), each stimulating something different. The doctors choose the right cocktail of drugs for your situation, but in general they affect your levels of LH and FSH to induce ovulation. Some doctors avoid injectables because of the higher chance of multiple births and their high cost. It seems success rates are similar to oral drugs, but injectables might be successful where oral medication was not.
• Intrauterine Insemination (IUI) - Commonly used for unexplained fertility or mild known infertility factors, and often in conjunction with either oral medication or injections, an IUI is the placement of washed and concentrated semen directly into the uterus. Timing is important, and the rates of pregnancy aren't spectacular, but it is an affordable option. 
• IVF - Often the last stop on the infertility train, IVF ranks quite high in cost, invasiveness, and success. Some clinics boast as high a success rate as 60% live births per cycle! This is a process involving drugs to stimulate egg production, then egg retrieval, then the actual injection of a sperm into an egg (or allowing sperm to penetrate egg in a petri dish), then the placement of the embryo (or embryos) back into the woman. I am lucky in that the NHS covers three rounds of IVF for a woman without any children in cases of infertility. 

Even though sometimes I feel like I will never be able to fall pregnant, I am so grateful that there is an entire list of options that I haven't tried yet. I'm just at the beginning of the road, and although some of the options seem big and scary, at least I have options. PCOS and endometriosis can be daunting, but at least I know what I'm dealing with and I can charge straight at it head on. I don't know what the future will bring, but today I'm feeling cautiously optimistic and I'm holding on tightly to that little ball of hope inside. 

It's two days until my meeting at the fertility clinic, and armed with my piles of research, only good things can come. It's a long dark road ahead of me, but I think I might just be able to see some light at the end of it.

No Rainbows, Just Rain

When you think of Scotland, what do you imagine? Castles? Kilts? Bagpipes? Most people think of the weather - cold, grey, and rainy. I have to say, most of the time that isn't true. I've had so many beautiful, blue sky days since moving here and the rain seems to only appear overnight and disappear in the day.

Today is an exception. It's raining outside just the way you'd expect from a country this far north. As I sipped my cup of tea this morning and thought about where I am in this journey, I wondered if the weather was mirroring how I felt.

First and foremost, I feel sadness. The kind of deep, immeasurable sadness that wells up when you're not expecting it. The diagnosis of endometriosis still has me reeling. The fact that there is no way to stop it and only surgery or pregnancy to treat it has added new layers of stress to my already gigantic pile. Isn't having PCOS enough for one person? I can't ovulate properly, but now I get to have constant abdominal pain that will interfere with falling pregnant and staying pregnant? 

Then I think - what else is wrong with me?

And the rain falls steadily, inside and outside. Hovering, menacing, iron-grey clouds hang over me. I try to push it back down, cover the sadness with my list.

Every day I make a list of the things I am grateful for. It reminds me of everything I have now and keeps me focused on the positives. The list is seemingly endless; I'm thankful for my house, my neighborhood, my neighbors, my job, my family, my friends, my (mostly) strong and healthy body, my past experiences, my travel, clean water, good food, interesting books, my education... I could just keep writing. Sometimes I even go through my friends and family one by one, thinking of how each person has brought joy and happiness into my life. 

And this list pushes back down the sadness and the darkness for a small while. It reminds me there is more to me and my life than just trying to fall pregnant. It's enough for me to catch my breath and try ignore that deep pain. 

If you're struggling with infertility too, you know the pain. I don't need to describe it to you, because you know and feel this pain everyday. If you aren't struggling with infertility, the words could never describe it. I'm not trying to belittle other types of pain - there is a whole buffet of pain out there, all with its own flavors and subtleties and none necessarily easier to bear than others. But the pain from infertility can only be understood by those experiencing it and it's a club I never intended to join.

Howling wind screeches past my window as the harsh pounding of raindrops continues. I'm in the stormy part of my journey, I tell myself. Intervention (and hopefully success), will be here someday, but isn't here yet. It's something I have to tell myself over and over to keep my hope up. Because in infertility, there are no guarantees. It might rain and rain and rain and rain... with no rainbows. 

It's a healing, waiting, hoping game for now. As the rain drives down, ever more forceful, I just have to remember that without the rain there wouldn't even be a chance of rainbows. And that little bit of hope is enough for now as I sit here, wishing for my rainbow.