Infertility from the Husband

All Photography by Allison Kuhn Photography. 

Last week on snapchat (lindseyrthorne) I asked what you all wanted to see more of – hands down, everyone said personal posts.  I then did some research in the back end of things and found that my personal posts are in fact what people enjoy.  Especially the ones that revolve around our children.  In honor of National Infertility Awareness Week, my husband is sharing our story.

From the hubby…

I have never been more humbled as I am by our families’ battle with infertility.  I always assumed that having children would be something that when we decided to try, nature would take its course and it would be a simple path to start down.  It would be a blissful nine months of happiness and preparing for the baby to arrive.  Lindsey would have the opportunity to ‘nest’ and get the nursery just the way she wanted, with plenty of time prior to delivery to soak up the joy that we were about to bring into our lives.  It would be a time of reflection on family and getting little baby onesies washed and neatly placed into drawers.  Everything would have its place and we would be ready months in advance of the big arrival.  It would be perfect.  I have never been so wrong in my life.

At first, it seemed like a struggle that everybody goes through.  We would try for a couple months and then look back at it with a laugh that it took a little longer than expected.  Instead, the months turned into years.  The joy of bringing a new life into the world turned into a battle.  Not just to get pregnant, but with each other.  Anger seeps its way into what should be an exciting time in your life and it becomes a job to try and have a child rather than a joy.  The tension between us was constant and it was unrelenting because it was completely out of our control.  I still cannot fully grasp the toll this has taken on Lindsey and the depths to which this has affected her.  She put herself through hell for our family.  Its something I will never forget and I will forever be grateful for.  For me, it was a heavy blow to my ego.  Not to be able to “get it done” naturally.  I know that sounds ridiculous and selfish and trivial, really.  But after accepting the fact that we were going to need help…a lot of help…the true battle began.

Lindsey is the strongest person I know.  Not the strongest woman I know.  The strongest person I know.  She accepted the challenge for what we were facing early on, and she began researching.  I remember her telling me about options.  The start of it all is like a blur to me.  I remember Lindsey going to two different hospitals for a couple of procedures and us talking about the results with a high degree of optimism.  This one treatment would provide the breakthrough we needed to get over the hump and our infertility would be a distant memory.  I was still so hopeful at this point that the process would happen naturally.

The first negative pregnancy test after going through these first steps hit me hard.  I was disappointed and it gave me the first glimpse into just how hard this was going to be for Lindsey.  She was devastated by the fact that we had been trying for a year and weren’t getting pregnant.  And I was trying to manage my own disappointment while putting up the front that we were going to be okay.  I tried hard not to let her see how much it bothered me because she already felt a tremendous amount of guilt that this was because of her, and I felt so helpless to bring her back from such a dark place.  She already placed such a heavy burden on herself and felt so singlehandedly responsible for what we were going through.  I could tell her until I was blue in the face that it was not her fault.  That it was nothing either of us wanted and nothing either of us could control.  I was just as much at fault as she was, but my pleadings fell on deaf ears.  I struggled to help her and I struggled to handle being the outlet for all the frustration she was feeling.  I left our condo one day because it all was too much and I needed to take a break.  When you’re going through dealing with infertility, it becomes all consuming.  There isn’t a moment in the day that you don’t think about it and ask yourself “why me”?  The reality is that we are hardly unique and it’s a challenge that many people face.  One this day, I was in the car by myself and became overwhelmed by it all and momentarily gave up.  I just wanted it to be over.  So I went to a local bar, sat and had a beer , took a deep breath, and my attitude came full circle.  I will do whatever I have to do for my family.  And I will fight hand in hand with Lindsey to the end to have a child.

At this point, the time line of things gets jumbled in my head.  It all is a mess of what happened when as the most important thing to me was to stay positive, help Lindsey manage her disappointment and keep my eye on the prize.  We had to take things to the next level, and went from Lindsey’s regular ob to the professionals at REACH.  I can’t say enough positive things about how we were treated at REACH and the experience we had there.  They are so optimistic and positive.  It was reassuring to see their hope during such dark times for us, because as much as I hate to admit it, our hope had started to fade.  Lindsey went through various treatments for months, which turned into years.  Patches.  Shots.  Different drugs and different combinations.  One of the most difficult aspects of this is that there is no standard formula.  It’s a process of trial and error until you reach the desired result.  Its something that we were obviously ok with doing (did we really have a choice?) but as the months pass, holding onto your faith that it will ultimately happen, is hard to do.

I used to look forward to that time during our treatments that Lindsey would take a pregnancy test.  The hope that we would have going into those days were brief moments of true happiness and light during very tough times.  It was a roller coaster of emotions and with each subsequent negative test, the intensity of the disappointment and anger grew.  It became harder and harder to keep faith as the negative tests mounted, and we easily slipped back into that dark place.  The depth of which grew and grew as the months and years passed.  And my job became increasingly hard.  Don’t get me wrong, it was nothing compared to the medicines, the Dr visits, the bloodwork, the shots, the struggle that Lindsey was going through.  But being the only outlet for that frustration can take its toll.  Our marriage suffered.  Our friendship suffered.  It would have been easy to throw in the towel and say forget it.  But we knew deep down that this was not “us”.  This wasn’t going to define our time together or end it.  It was going to strengthen it and it was going to bring us closer than we ever imagined.  We were going to win this battle.  Together.  And we were going to come out of it with a bond that holds us together stronger than anything I imagined.

The path was not always a dark one and there were intense highs that helped us to pull through the corresponding lows.  We had two successful IVF treatments that resulted in pregnancies, one before each of our children.  The first baby we lost at 8 weeks, and that one was especially hard.  I felt like we had gotten though this struggle, and then to have it taken from you was a difficult thing to come to terms with.  And of course, it fueled the disappointment and anger.  It fueled our arguments and then just regular daily interaction was tough.  All of sudden, it was a big deal if a dish was left on the counter rather than placed into the dishwasher, and I struggled to continue to want to fight.  The second baby we lost a little later around 7 weeks, and it was just as difficult to manage our sadness disappointment.  I became very jaded, and almost immune even to the pain that each failed attempt brought.  I hated myself for that.  For not letting it affect me emotionally the way it did intellectually.  But I think I viewed it as a form of self-preservation and a coping tool to get me through.  I had to be strong for Lindsey because seeing her struggle tore me apart.  I have never been more helpless and felt more insignificant.  I wanted nothing more than to be able to help her, but I feel as though I fell short in so many ways.  Looking back on it now brings tears to my eyes, but I know that those little souls are still with us and I still feel them in our life.  They brought us a hope that I cannot put into words and truly pulled us through and gave us strength to continue.

A funny thing happened with both of our successful pregnancies.  I would reach the end of my rope with my willingness to keep trying.  The toll it took on Lindsey, and me, would start to win.  And in an odd way, it was a refreshing feeling.  I would accept that this might not happen for us, and that children might not be in our destiny together.  Maybe that’s what it took.  To know that we were going to be alright and we were going to be happy together.  Before each successful final treatment, one of us would say ‘Let’s just try this one more time’.  We would take a deep breath and relax.  We’d listen to some Bob Marley on the way to the clinic.  I would hold Lindsey’s hand while a Dr helped us to create a life the old fashioned way, and we would patiently wait for that chance to take the next pregnancy test.

When the day would arrive to take the test, I always prepared myself for the worst.  Here we go again….get ready to deal with the fallout of another one….and I would start to prepare what I would say to Lindsey to try and smooth things over.  Again.  And then the craziest thing would happen.  Lindsey would hold out the test and slowly uncover it so we could both look at the same time.  Positive.  It was an incredible feeling.  I’d instantly start crying, sobbing really, with an all-consuming happiness that drove out all the pain I’d felt prior to this moment.  It was worth it.  All of it.  Each step that tested our resolve was worth it.  Each shot.  Each daily medication.  Each patch.  Every blood test.  Each doctor’s appointment.  Each and every step that became heavier and harder was worth it.  Together we battled something that was out of our control, beat it, and we came out of it stronger than when we started.  I have never been ashamed or embarrassed by our infertility battle.  It’s something that so many people who want children have to struggle with.  My hope in sharing this is that anyone who is reading this, and is battling infertility, knows that they are not alone.  We are right there with you, holding onto the hope that this will be the one.  It is the greatest feeling on earth and I have never been happier to be able to say, we did it!

All photography in this post is by Allison Kuhn Photography.