Infertility: Sean - "Fruits of Our Labors"

The last couple of months Lizzy has been undergoing some procedures to hopefully get us pregnant. A couple months of negative news, but we had faith for the month of May. The procedure went as planned and the doctor had high hopes. I had high hopes. During the last three years, I have tried all I can to be faithful and to be optimistic. Not just for me, but for Lizzy too. I just wanted to keep us going forward. 

When we lost our baby last July I felt like we could keep trying. Lizzy did not. She needed time. She told me over and over, she needed to regain her faith. I respected her opinion, and we took 7 months off. I have always liked the scripture in Alma about the fruit of the tree that will be delivered to us if we are patient. We have had a roller coaster of a month, including a young teen mother who wanted to know if we would adopt her baby. She decided to keep the baby. I can't imagine how hard that would be. We just pray for the mom and baby. It did hurt... a lot.  I couldn't think of anything else for a good week.

I just knew. I just knew that soon our prayers would be answered. Our procedure in May went well. Lizzy started feeling symptoms of pregnancy too. I felt like I was on eggshells. I wanted to be excited but not too excited until we got the positive results. One night, Lizzy showed me her test. There were two lines. Lines that held some hope and the answer to our promise. We were faithful. We were true. 

Then on Saturday Lizzy began to spot. The spotting got worse, and we knew what was happening. I was mad. I was upset. I felt forsaken. I felt lost. I felt my faith wavering. I didn't know why we had to go through this, again and again. I didn't want to try again. Every cycle is financially straining and I feel guilty for that. I felt so worthless. I was done. I couldn't do this anymore. I was tired of laboring and finding no fruit. While others around were receiving fruit they didn't even want. When others just complain about their fruit. When there are videos of men being angry because they found out their wife is expecting- and we are supposed to find it funny. I then felt my wife's arms around me. She just held me. It just felt good to say the things I felt out loud. To cry. I had been keeping so much in that I felt I was going to burst. We cried. We talked. We prayed. 

Sunday came along, and it seemed to us like a miracle happened. The spotting had stopped. We fasted for this to work. We prayed and I gave her a blessing. We did everything within our power to do. The tests were still positive, and they were darker. We were so hopeful. Then that night the bleeding returned, and we knew there was no going back.

Monday morning came and the Doctor confirmed that Lizzy was having another miscarriage. I felt like the fruit was ripped right out of my hands. The hope, the faith, and the promise. I just feel empty. Lizzy said the doctor kept saying, "This is hard. This is going to continue to be hard. I know that it hurts you." along with that his nurse remembered Lizzy (who wouldn't) and remembered our story- everything. She struggled with infertility, so they have talked a lot. Although we feel alone. It's nice to know that our team knows us personally and ministers to our wounds. 

Lizzy always says that having faith means that we believe that God can perform miracles. It also means that we will have faith that he doesn't have to. We have to have faith in both results. It's a lot harder than it seems. Don't tell me God has a plan. I know that. Its just hard to accept our plan, and that's okay.

 Although my basket is still empty I know there is fruit. Somewhere. And when I find it. It will be the sweetest most precious fruit of all. 

Infertility: A letter to my struggling reader

Hello,

My struggling reader

So I may know you, and I may not. I get a lot of messages ( around 20-30 per blog), and most of the time it's from one of my friends sending another friend to the blog. I'm glad that my messages are getting out there, but I'm sad that you can connect to what I'm saying. I'm sad that you feel I am "voicing what you want to voice." Why? Because infertility sucks.

So this letter is to you. Yep. You.

I want you to know that you are strong.

I want you to know that you are valued.

I want you to know that you are not "broken"

I want you to know that it's hard on all marriages.

I want you to know its hard on all relationships.

I want you to know that you don't have to be silent.

I want you to know that these trials can make you stronger.

I want you to know that you have a unique tribe of men and women who know similar feelings and want to help you.

I want you to know that I'm sorry for comments that hurt.

I want you to know that I know every month is hard.

I want you to know that I know its hard to face your spouse with negative news.

I want you to know that having a miscarriage doesn't mean it's your fault.

I want you to know that if your a male that having infertility doesn't make you less of a man.

I want you to know that your voice matters.

I want you to know its okay to cry.

I want you to know that I know it hurts when all of your friends are pregnant.

I want you to know that I understand the guilt you feel when others happiness makes you sad.

I want you to know that I know it hurts when you see children that would be the same age of one of your losses.

I want you to know its okay to mourn what you thought would be.

I want you to know it doesn't make you less of a parent to have a baby in an alternative way.

I want you to know that you won't feel lost forever.

I want you to know that it's okay to be mad.

I want you to know that it's okay to be sad.

I want you to know that it's okay to be happy.

I want you to know that I understand you hate taking those pills.

I want you to know I know it's always hard- regardless if you have kids already.

Most of all I want you to know that you are not alone in any of this. I hear you, crying in the shower. I'm pretty sure we all do. I want you to know how truly beautiful and brave you are to get out of bed. How strong you are to "try again". You can do this. I can do this. We can do this.

If I can encourage you to do just one thing it would be to use your voice. You have a story people need to hear. You have the opportunity to help bridge communications.

Also, if there is something you would like me to write about please let me know. If you are not ready, to use your voice yet, just know I will support you in any way I can. -Hugs-

Infertility: A Letter From Sean

I'm not known for being a good writer or good at putting my thoughts together. I have been trying to write this for a couple years now. Thankfully Lizzy helped me a lot to get this posted.

Ever since I was little, all I have ever wanted to be is a dad. My biggest fear in life is that I would never get married, and therefore never have the family I dreamed of. I wanted to be that dad that was super involved. That dad that would take his daughters out for dates. Go to all the games and concerts. Teach the kids how to hunt and fish. The dad that would teach his children how to pray and love God. I just wanted a family, always.

When Lizzy and I were dating I told her I wanted to start our family as soon as possible. She didn't want to, and I respected that. One night she came to me and told me she felt that we should start trying for a family. It was weird to me because we had been married not even a month She said she felt like it may be difficult for her to have a baby, and it would be better to find out why sooner than later. Soon we were tracking everything, but month after month no baby. Deep down inside I felt that it had to be me. Although Lizzy was convinced it was her.

After a year of attempting, we went to the doctor to start the process of figuring out why. I didn't realize the rollercoaster we were getting on. The first tests the doctor ordered were a progesterone test and follicle ultrasound for Lizzy, and a semen analysis for me. Thus began the most stressful and awkward testing of my life.

A week or two later I came home and Lizzy pulled me aside and told me the doctor called. Her tests panned out to be normal, but mine was not good at all. So bad that our doctor wasn't going to try anything with us, and told us to go to the reproductive care center in UT. I felt my heart sink. I felt embarrassed. I felt hopeless. It felt similar to that of a great loss. I felt like I had failed. I failed my role as husband. I failed my wife.

Soon we had a series of expensive tests to do and an appointment at the reproductive care center. We were nervous as we sat in the doctor's office, and nothing could have prepared us for what would happen. We were told we had a 3% chance of having a child naturally. Now the feelings I had before were confirmed. I felt totally hopeless and like a failure. That our opportunities to have a child was next to none. My wife would never know what it was like to carry a child and it was my fault. Because of me, she would be robbed of one of her greatest desires. Lizzy seemed to be at peace. She is the kind of person who just wants an answer so she can process it and deal with it.

Not even a week later we left for NYC. It was a trip we dreamed of, but now we had some extra baggage. Lizzy wanted to talk, and I didn't. I would just give short replies and move onto a new subject. That trip was the longest trip of my life. One night we were in time square when Lizzy just stopped and yelled at me. It was so loud around us it didn't matter how loud she screamed. By closing myself off I was hurting Lizzy. I never want to hurt Lizzy. I just didn't want to talk about my failures.

We came home only to do more tests. Once again Lizzy's test came back great, and mine didn't. I tried different medications, different diets, etc.. nothing changed. Even after everything my last test was so bad they didn't even bother giving me the numbers. Then all at once, it seemed like everyone was having babies in situations that were less than ideal. I was supposed to be happy for them, but it made me feel worse. Depression set in, and life got dark. It got dark for both of us. I only had one job. I only had to contribute one piece to the 1000 piece puzzle and I failed. I was stripped of masculinity. Drowned in unknown waters.

Every road we went down to try to have a family was closing. We called adoption agencies both international and domestic adoption only to feel it wasn't right. We looked into foster care only to feel that it wasn't right. Set up consultations for IVF only to feel it wasn't right. Nothing was right. I felt worthless and useless. I started gaining weight. I felt miserable and lost. I was keeping us stagnant. I kept feeling like Lizzy would be better with someone else. Someone that could give her the family she deserves.

The problem is no one talks about male infertility. Although male infertility contributes to 50% of infertility, no one talks about it. It bothers me how everyone just assumes it's Lizzy who has infertility. I have yet to meet a man that would talk to me about male infertility and to tell you the truth, but I don't know if I would either. Men don't like talking about their failures.

In June it will be 3 years of trying, multiple losses, and lots of tears. I'm so grateful for Lizzy and her unwavering love. I'm thankful that she comes from a family that not only understands infertility but understands loss. For the most part, I feel like I have been able to come to terms with my infertility. We keep pushing forward. Keep praying. Keep trying. Praying that someday our dreams will be fulfilled.

What not to say/do to someone dealing with male infertility.
1. Tell them to have faith in God's timing
2. Give advice because you assume we don't understand how to make a baby
3. Complain about your children and say that we are so lucky we don't have kids
4. Assume fertility only lies in the female sex
5. Try to fix them

What can you do for someone dealing with male infertility?
1. Pray for them
2. Have a listening ear
3. Be open to the discussion

I hope this helped someone understand or for someone to know they are not alone. This trial has been one that has altered my life, testimony, and marriage. After feeling alone in my trials I hope that others may not feel so alone, or that they may know how to help someone around them with male infertility. There can be joy in the face of trials. And, hopefully, someday, I will be a dad.