Let's face it, we're tough

This post is brought to you by the letters T-O-U-G-H. You might have a different conception about this word, but if you're infertile, you're the epitome of it.

I had a really good week, which is kind of unusual when you consider the amount of shit that last week brought and the fact that I have not been the most positive person for quite some time. And to be honest, the circumstances that brought out this week's goodness were less than ideal.

And for the friend who will most likely read this and know I am talking about her, I'm wordless when it comes to an explanation. I am not the appropriate person for you to have been passing your concerns to, but I tried to be strong and keep my shit out of your fears. I'm only so strong, and since you fueled this better week, I suppose this worked out okay. You're probably not going to like what you hear next, but I won't apologize for the truth about how I felt.

So, I have this friend who is about to have her baby. We were good friends leading up to her pregnancy, but we've obviously distanced when her journey ended and mine continued. We were not always on the same page, and though she means well, she would sometimes say the wrong things. She meant well, I know, but it was sometimes too much for me to handle. And so, our communications would wax and wane. I always have held out hope that once my journey is finally over, we will resume our friendship. Until then, it came in bits and pieces. And there were times when she was immensely helpful; there are reasons why I still have hope that things will eventually go back to normal.

This week, as has come up a few times in the recent weeks, she mentioned her fear of labor. Her dread of labor. And while at the time, it made me angry with her, it changed the course of this week and possibly my outlook in general.

I'm not afraid of labor. Honestly, I can't wait for labor. Do you know how many milestones I will have accomplished out of that very long list (most of which I don't even know because we can't seem to get past Beta #1 successfully) by the time I get to labor? The baby will be so close, within my literal reach. We'll be hours away from this nightmare fully ending. Labor? Oh, God, if all I had left were labor!

I've waffled back and forth about my thoughts on this, and frankly, I've looked at them from every way. I've talked about them with TH, with the SMT, with the therapist. I'm NOT afraid of labor. I'm sure, in the moments when it starts, I will get a little nervous. But afraid? Of the pain? I don't think so.

In the past year alone, I have had two surgeries, a m/c, countless procedures, blood draws, u/s, shots, side effects, etc. The pain? Only once have I been afraid of the pain, but I can look at that moment and know it wasn't just the physical pain I was afraid of. The only time I said I was afraid of pain was when I m/c because I had no idea what it was going to feel like, physically and emotionally, to lose my baby. I was alone and terrified about giving up that baby who I had loved so fiercely for those short days. I had that fear at the absolute lowest day of my life; I've never been so low, and I hope to God that that day is the only day in my life where I meet that low. I had no one to guide me or give me their experiences in that moment when I started to realize the m/c, and everything about the unknown scared me.

But back to the discussion at hand. The night before a surgery, I never worry about the pain. Before the lap, I worried I would wake up without an ovary or to bad news that indicated I would never carry our baby. Before starting new cycles and new meds, I worry about whether this will finally be what works. I worry about outcomes; I don't worry about pain.

At this stage in our game, physical pain is the easiest. It passes. It can knock you on your ass, but chances are, you'll get back up again and it won't be there. Or, the after affects might be there, but they are never as bad as the worst moment. It's temporary. And, you can medicate it. ;)

So labor? I'd take 24-48 hours of it to hold my baby at the end without thinking twice. Every hour that passed would be one that brought us closer to our baby. With that in mind, how could you NOT want labor to start? You get your baby at the end of it! What other medical procedure has such a great reward at the end? (Granted, I DO know that this is not always the case, but I can't let my mind go there. I am going to choose to believe that by the time I get to labor, my baby will be right around the corner. I don't mean this in disrespect to those of you who have not had this fortune. I'm focusing on the pain aspect for the purposes of this discussion.)

So for the first few days of this week, I thought about the pain and my reaction to it. Am I just naive? Am I too far removed from the situation and just idealizing it because it's the reality of what is turning out to be a longterm dream? I don't think so. I think I'm changed; I have lower expectations and higher tolerances as a result of our infertility. (In my heart, I mean "my" infertility. This is our journey, but the infertility piece is mine, as much as most do not want me to use that word. But that's another post for another time.)

Everything I thought about this week finally made me realize I'm strong. I'm tough. For the longest time, I haven't been able to see it, regardless of how many people said those words to me. You don't *feel* tough or strong when you are hanging on by a thread. You see yourself at your worst, your lowest, filled with struggle and sadness and jealousy and hurt. But you hang on. You take the next step, look forward to the next protocol, pick up the pieces and keep going. You do this again and again and again. You feel that you don't have a choice, but you DO. And with every month that comes, you choose to keep going. (And for those of you who reach the end of your journey and recognize it as such, that's strength, too.) 23 months, I have made the choice to keep on keepin' on. I've put my head down and plowed through. I've cast aside people who were not helpful and supportive in the midst of my darkest days. I've learned to trust those near and dear to me more than I ever thought possible. I've learned that supported and independent are not mutually exclusive terms and that I can have both and be stronger for it. I've changed how I look at my life; I don't spend time on things far out in the future. I don't wish for what could be. Instead, I focus on the things I can do and the things I am doing to make every dream, baby-related or not, come true. I put my head down, and I plow right on through.

I told TH he had a tough wife two nights ago, as I finished the shot and he was cleaning up the wrappers. He looked at me a little sideways and told me that he already knew that. He said that before I had even met him, I had already done all these things on my own, had all these surgeries. Of course he knew I was tough.

Why didn't I?

The therapist has routinely told me I'm brave. A couple of times, she's told me that I'm the toughest person she's ever known. I used to write it off as a blanket statement she uses to encourage her patients when they are struggling. This week, I received this complement. I believed it. I *am* brave. I'm tough. I'm stronger than I ever could have imagined. And every person who goes through infertility is brave, tough, and strong, too. We never feel it, never see it, but it's apparent to those who know our true trials.

Am I fighting the occasional fear that this won't work? YES. But then I bring myself back to my reality. The "this didn't work" portion of this program is WEEKS away, and it might not even happen. Right now, I have to first get a period. Then, I have to call the office. After that, I go in for CD3 bloodwork. I will get the dosing call. I will give the first stim shots. I will have ultrasounds. Etc, etc, etc. At this very moment, all that's on my radar is the period or 5 days, whichever comes sooner. That's my longterm goal right now. Short term? 10pm, shot time.

So, let's apply the thinking I'm using to surviving labor. Contractions start. Owieeeeee! Every single one is going to mean I'm closer to meeting our baby and ending this journey for a new one. There will be stops and checks along the way that I'm going to have to pass, but in my mind, I will be focused on the baby. I won't have come this far to lose focus at the point when we are closest to the goal we've tried to reach for so very long. Instead of having a long list of things I need to accomplish or endure to get to our baby, we will be at the tail end of that list. We will be so close that I will literally feel it.

You can say I'm naive, that my thoughts and feelings will change as this gets closer and closer. But if you've never walked in my shoes, I suspect you will be wrong. Maybe in December, I will be referencing this post and laughing at my simplistic view, but maybe I won't be. Iif and when the fear starts to creep in, I will remind myself just how close we are. I will keep my eye on the prize, and what a prize it will be. If there is one thing I've learned in this journey, it's that I know myself. I know when I need help; I know when I need to talk and when to just shut down and conserve; I know what my gut says is true, it can be trusted.

I also know that when someone says I'm "so strong", they're right. I, just like every other infertile, am strong. I might feel full of fear, but I'm more fearless than not. I have chutzpah. I have a pitbull on my skirt and my heart in my chest. I have courage and the strength to carry on. And from now on, I'm going to wear it proudly. I'm going to believe.