If I were to look myself up I guess it would be something like this...
Mindy Karafa: wife, mother, friend. Hard worker. primary teacher. Laughs at herself...often. Loves her family. Wants to win the lottery. Wishes summer was over etc...
Today I am feeling like I would edit that to say....
Mindy Karafa: really wants another baby but is INFERTILE. Hear that? INFERTILE!!!!
Today that is what defines me. My infertility. MY PCOS. My desperate desire to have a baby to hold and love. A baby of my own.
Before Blair and I were married I had been diagnosed with PCOS. I knew that there "could" be an issue with getting pregnant when the time came. As soon as we were man & wife we started on our quest to have a family. Nothing radical at first, just no "prevention".
As our one year of wedded bliss began looming closer I decided to take the next step and get some medical intervention. Lots of ultrasounds, bloodwork and procedures followed and we were told that yes we would be able to get pregnant (yeah!) but that I would need a little push in the right direction. A little push via Clomid. One tiny little pill for 5 days to get my body to work properly (you know like ovulating...) Who knew that those 5 little pills would make me such a lovely person (ha ha ha) to be around. I'm sure Blair didn't, or he never would have agreed to it.
28 days of pills, temps, ultrasounds, "baby making", and waiting later and then...
One pink line.
I cried and cried. Curled up in bed and hid from the world (a luxury of child free days gone by) until I was coaxed out by a loving husband who said we would keep trying. I promised to try, just once more. I could only promise 28 days more. So the cycle (pun intended) continued. One more month of poking, prodding, and praying for a miracle. And then...
A phone call. In the Wal-Mart parking lot near work. A call I will never forget. "Hi Mindy? This is Nancy from Dr. Gunnala's office. You're having a baby".
I cried and cried. Then called Blair and cried. And my Mom and cried. A great hormonal boobfest. And then I had 9 months of not so pregnant bliss before I met my Jordan. My mini Blair. My first child. Suddenly all the anguish was more than worth it. One look into his big brown eyes and I was hooked. Hook...Line...Sinker!
Sometime around Jordan's first birthday I got the itch. The itch to give my baby a sibling. To maybe have a mini Mindy to love and adore. And see, I knew the baby recipe. Me & Blair + Clomid + temping + opk's + trigger = BABY. Easy! So we started our new journey and 28 days later...
one pink line
I would not be sad. or deterred from my course. It took me twice with Jordan too. So 28 days later...
one pink line
This time I was a little bit upset. I met with my Dr. and we decided to try a new "helper" Femara. Only after I started on it did I find out that it was a cancer drug. Not FDA approved for fertility. That's how desperate I was. But 28 days later...
One pink line.
Or is that 2?
Blair come here...is that one or two? Do you see two?
THERE WAS TWO!
And nine months later, I had two. Two beautiful boys. The loves of my life (besides the hubs). Dillon with his chubby cheeks and little dimple just melted my heart. I could look at his face and stroke his cheeks for hours...
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Now here I am. A mother of two wonderful boys and I am desperate for another. And even though I thought I knew the "baby recipe" by heart yesterday I saw...
one pink line
What's really sad about infertility is that is is hard to talk about. hard because you are a hormonal mess (which is why only Betsy knew we were trying last month. because I flipped out and yelled at her over the phone. and hung up. I needed to explain and apologize). It's gotten harder to speak about my infertility because I feel like after being blessed with two kids I shouldn't complain.
Sometimes the easiest thing to do is to lie. When someone asks you if you want more kids you say "I don't know, not right now" when you really want more. When you are asked how many kids you want you say " maybe just one more" when really you would love a big family.
A lot of times you have to hide your feelings. Like when someone you know gets pregnant and you are so happy for them, and then you have to go hide in the bathroom for a good cry and compose yourself.
It's really hard to have trouble with infertility and be Mormon. The expectation of multiplying and replenishing the earth looms heavily over you. That or you are surrounded with big families full of kids and you wish that it was you.
Infertility can take a toll on your marriage. "Babymaking" is all fun and games until you have to schedule to the day and hour. And heaven forbid your husband can't meet that appointment because he is working. A trying to conceive, hopped up on fertility drugs woman is not one you want to make angry.
What really stinks about infertility is how close the symptoms of you getting your period and early pregnancy are. Sore bubbies, cramps, nausea, mood swings, cravings.... Your mind will play tricks on you up until that fateful trip to the restroom. When you are a professional "trying to make a baby" lady like me you will even convince yourself that its just too early to test. And you will buy more tests, all until Aunt Flo comes around. Nobody ever wants her to visit. Least of all someone who has asked and prayed for her to stay away for a few months... or nine.
I am so professionally in denial that while I have been "cooking up" this post in my head I was sure I wasn't going to have to post it, because I would see 2 pink lines yesterday. I am really starting to hate pink.
This is my cross to bear. I've been bucked off and I will get back on, just not this month. I just mentally, physically and emotionally cant handle it again this month. But I will probably try again. That's about all you can do, right? In the meantime I plan on enjoying the two gifts I have been given.
"We are about as happy as we make our minds up to be."
~Abraham Lincoln
*I am working on it...
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