One Year Later

It's November 6, 2012.

I had originally envisioned this day's post to be a bleak, tear-streaked stream of consciousness in which I spilled my guts about how the past year changed everything but I have nothing to show for it. How infertility nearly broke me and I feel like a failure, a disappointment, and a disaster in general.  I had considered, a couple months ago, of taking today off work to get a massage or go see a movie and eat ice cream, because I knew that I'd be a blubbering mess, reliving the moments leading up to and immediately following the news in the OBGYN's office a year ago. I was going to end the post on a note of hope, because really, I have come a long, looooong way from crying every single day, considering darker thoughts than I'd like to admit, and isolating myself from friends and family.

Today, on the one year anniversary of my Premature Ovarian Failure diagnosis, the post I'm actually writing is very different from the one I planned. I didn't even dare imagine a couple months ago that I'd be pregnant while I wrote this post.

So I thought I'd take a minute to go ahead and remember how infertility challenged me and changed me this year, because I have a feeling this year is one for the books. I'm going to remember it like I won't remember a lot of other years.

The first few months after my diagnosis on November 6, 2011 are hazy. I cried a lot. Sobbed. A lot. Threw temper tantrums. Screamed into pillows. Had hot flashes. Spent a lot of money on meds that didn't work a lick.

In March, I got on Hormone Replacement Therapy, which resolved my hot flash and brain fog issues. I finally felt like I could live with this condition. I trained for my first ever full marathon - and ran it! But I was still depressed, sad and angry.

By late June, I made an appointment with a therapist, and whaddya know, it actually helped. After a few weeks, I started to see that my condition was out of my control and I might as well try to have some fun if I can't get pregnant. I decided to wait at least three years post-diagnosis to try IVF with a donor and in the meantime, hell, we were going to live it up.

In August, we went to San Diego and tried marijuana for the first time. I booked a trip to Mexico with my girlfriends. I went out with friends, drank a lot, ran a half marathon, and went skydiving.

And then when I least expected it, after a year and a half of trying, during a cycle with NO eggwhite cervical mucous and a wonky ass chart, it happened. My BFP.

I'm so grateful to be in 5-10% of women with my condition who get pregnant. I feel like I owe the universe. Or God. Or something. Why me? I know there's not an answer to that, but I can't help but feel completely overwhelmed with it all.

I will say I think about all of you still in the trenches all the time. I am rooting for you and I won't forget you!