I'm having a pretty good Sunday. I woke up to a beautiful shining sun with plenty of time to read the paper and have some tea before heading out to mass (very often I'm like a whirling dirvish trying to get out the door in time for 10am!). My yoga class this afternoon wasn't too busy and my favourite teacher was leading the practice. I also found the perfect hostess gift for the cousin that we're visiting on March Break.
But I've been unable to shake a lingering feeling of dread, despite all of the goodness and positivity of the day (and the half bar of chocolate that I ate!).
Thanks to Aurelia we have found a fertility clinic that shares our beliefs about ART (I've written about it here). But despite feeling completely comfortable with their methods I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around everything.
Finding the Marguerite Bourgeoys Family Centre has been both a blessing and a bitter pill to swallow. According to their particular method where charting cervical mucus helps pinpoint problems in a woman's cycle, people diagnosed with unexplained infertility (like us) have found success in conceiving. We are supposed to chart (Mr. JB dutifully does so every night before bed) for two months, meet with a practioner that we have been paired up with every two weeks and see a doctor that practices NaproTechnology (our first appointment is on April 1st) after two months.
I was pretty excited after our Introductory session at the beginning of April. After watching the
presentation and seeing examples of different women's charts I could almost guess that my problem has been my progesterone levels (something that I did suggest to my evil fertility doctor and my OB/gyn, but was brushed off). I was also pretty surprised that Mr. JB thought the same thing -- I honestly didn't think he was paying attention whenever I would bleed mid-cycle! He never ceases to amaze me. The biggest hardship of the charting experience is the no-sex for the first month policy (in order to learn how to chart and to see the CM without the influence of semen), which is probably why I'm feeling a little loopy and finding it really hard to concentrate!
So my bitter pill is knowing that this is our last chance to have our own baby. I know that I can't go back to a conventional fertility clinic and although I love going to the acupuncturist twice a week I'm getting closer to our April deadline (although on Friday he said that we were getting close and I was put on new herbs).
I know that we came to our decision not to try IUI or IVF with clear heads. We've had so many discussions about how we wanted to build our family if we couldn't have biological children. But our clear-headedness doesn't necessarily make me feel happy inside. I sometimes wish that I could ignore the nagging feeling inside my head and go full throttle and try every method and drug possible. I wish that I didn't want to search out alternative ways to become a mother.
But most of all I wish I didn't feel so damn guilty for wanting to be a mom.
Maybe God is telling me that there's other plans for me. Maybe I'm supposed to learn something profound from our struggle.
But I keep on going back to my belief that I'm supposed to be a mom. I'm built to nurture. I can sing kid songs and make crafts and I am infinitely patient with little people. I bake from scratch and I read stories really well out loud. And most of all, I have a heart so full of love that even the faintest possibility of motherhood makes my eyes fill with tears.
So here I am, trying to find patience in a sea of uncertainty. I'm trying to implore the universe to send me answers that can possibly comfort the dread that I've been carrying around. I wish I could see the possibility in our new venture, but instead I can see the end of my quest to have a life growing inside of me.