If I had known from the beginning how long we’d deal with infertility, I might have made a conscious decision whether to include friends, family, and coworkers in the updates about our plight. As it was, I just went with the flow, sometimes sharing, sometimes not.

I do know that when I was in supportive work environments, where girlfriends coworkers didn’t mind hearing the next gruesome step, I was far and away happier than when I felt alone.

Sharing comes with the special bonus of hearing others’ advice. We were slow about pursuing medical treatment, mostly for financial reasons. I was desperate for a gentler and less expensive cure, and people were desperate to help me end the misery. Whether they were more desperate to end my misery or theirs is a toss-up!




The remedies, although they didn’t work, did provide some comic relief!




“If you take super mega doses of Vitamin B6, it will send extra T-3 to your brain, which turns the fats in your body into ovulatory hormones. Don’t worry about your arms and legs falling asleep at random. That’s normal.”




“Witch hazel and needles in your scalp… heheheh. There’s your cure.”




“Ok. Here’s one that really, truly works! What you have to do is eat a pickled artichoke heart while, at the same time, pretending you are riding an upside-down bicycle! I know it works because my cousin’s sister tried it, and the very next month, she was pregnant!“




I tried lots of natural remedies, hoping something would work.




On a spiritual and emotional level, I tried just as much: relaxing, giving it to God, not thinking about pink elephants. I could only “let it go” for a couple months at a time before the longing came back with a fury, and I wondered why I was supposed to be giving up this desire.

When I realized that giving it to God every few months was stressing me out, I gave that up to God, too.

And then I got pregnant!

Just kidding. But that’s how convoluted my reasoning became at times.




In all seriousness, I really, really tried. Really tried. I examined my heart. Confessed sin. Ate differently. Tried innumerable supplements. Saw a chiropractor. Focused on hobbies, a career, volunteerism.

I know these things have “worked” for some. Resolution may have come for them as the ability to give it up and move on, or for others, to finally bear or adopt children. Whichever way, each person’s form of resolution became the key to their personal stories. I wished so much that something they tried would work for me – that I could either be at peace or finally be pregnant. That wasn’t the story God had in mind for me to tell, though.

For some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t give up the longing to have children, and there was no cure in sight. I was just heartbreakingly infertile, and there was nothing I could do about it.


Completely, absolutely, head-against-wall-beatingly…




nothing.




This may be an anticlimactic way to end this post, but that was how much of the journey felt to me: so frustratingly anticlimactic.

But just keep reading…




This post is part of a series covering the story of our journey through infertility treatments. For an index of the rest of the posts, please click here.