Broken

I am going out on a limb here.  It very well may break and I'll fall flat on my "tabumpty", as my mom would say, but here it goes. I'm struggling with anger. Anger at God for this whole infertility mess. I've been patient.  I've persevered. I've praised in the middle of the valley. I've prayed for a child, for this IUI to work. And what is the result? Another big fat negative. I was so sure this was the one. This was our last attempt on Clomid before moving to more aggressive treatment.

We went for our follow up today instead of just doing a home test because of the Clomid side effects this month. I can't do another month of Clomid. After letting Dr. Steinkampf know that we are down to our last three IUIs for the life of our insurance policy and the Clomid was making me sick, he decided to change my treatment. I will take a month off to let the Clomid mostly clear my system then I'll have ultrasound monitoring and daily injections of Bravelle until my follicles look mature. Then I'll give a shot to trigger ovulation and go in for an IUI 36 hours later. Sound scary? Yep, to me too.

I was hoping against hope that this IUI worked and I could avoid this intense regimen, but it didn't. I'll have to miss a lot more half days of school to go in for ultrasound monitoring. When I got the call, "I'm sorry Mrs. Mott, your test was negative," and the news began to sank in I got angry. I feel broken. God made the human reproductive system for crying out loud. Every test so far has been clear. Everyone who has done an IUI on me has said I have a "perfect cervix". I ended up sobbing out my anger against Donny's chest. He tried to point me to scripture and remind me God had a plan. I couldn't listen. I was furious.

Nothing Donny said was getting through and I could feel my guts twisting into knots. Finally I decided to go for a walk, a long angry, stompy walk. I walked to the park and started around the track. If I'd been in the middle of nowhere I would have ugly-cried the whole way, but I was sharing Leeds Memorial Park with several joggers and strolling seniors. I argued with God, or more like fussed at God as I sped around the track. I threw every reason at him why I should be pregnant after this attempt, wrapping up my brilliant tirade with, "why not now God? Why?"

"It isn't time."

The angry child pounding her fists on the chest of her King turned into a weeping, exhausted woman in the arms of her forgiving, understanding, loving Lord. I sat down on a rock outcropping and continued to cry out. The anger didn't vanish by any means, but I had permission to talk it out.  God understands. He allows us to hide in him and cry out our anger, frustration, and broken dreams.   I'm still far from ok, I'm broken. But God understands. He has a plan. This was not the time.