And now for a bit of my own …

“I think it is fairly disturbing for you to be doing so much about this topic, and not being in a position to achieve your own success.  Let’s talk about this.”

He said these words during our meeting and I had nothing to say.
In my time of focusing on the broader scope of this fight, I have to admit, I’ve left myself out of the running.  I don’t give up hope, I just assumed that God wants me to fight for others first.  So when he reached over and said,

I can guarantee you that you have insulin resistance…and that your doctor misdiagnosed you….and that you can be pregnant in 6 months if we start working on this now…

I had nothing to say.
I got in my car.
I drove to a friend’s.
I had nothing to say.
I guess there is a stockholm syndrome going on in my head now.
I have gotten used to it not working, so I fight for others instead.
I’ve gotten used to doctors telling me things that make me feel even less powerful than I had been at the beginning.
I’ve grown accustomed to settling for what I think God wants me to have, instead of asking Him if I’ve heard Him correctly.
So…I’ve been war torn.
I didn’t feel excited.
Instead, I began to feel like I should prepare myself for that other shoe to drop.
Every time I’ve had hope…something has come along to end it.
When I was seventeen, I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism.  They told me that it was the culprit behind my weight and my energy and my moods.  So I rejoiced.  I just KNEW that on medication, I would finally be a size that resembled my eating habits.
But that didn’t work.

When I was 23, I finally had an intrauterine exam that thoroughly examined the ways in which my period could become regulated. I was checked for all cancers and infections and found “perfectly normal”. I rejoiced.  I just KNEW that with the meds given to me by the doc, I would have normal periods and healthy weight.
That didn’t work either.

When I was 25, I had an ultrasound and was told that I was “gynecologically normal”. I was given the medical go-ahead to lose weight with the prescription version of Alli, and a Clomid prescription.  I rejoiced.  I just KNEW that FINALLY, the medications would work.
Again…that didn’t work.

When I was 27, my doctor told me that she would not write me any fertility prescriptions until we’d brought down my weight.  At this…I may as well have said “check, please”.

So…I stopped thinking about it.
I stopped talking about it.
I tried to stop caring about it.

I numbed myself.

So when this doctor says to me…”We can do this”, the very small part of me who still wants to believe is lying somewhere in my spirit doing thisbut my outer parts will not move from this
I so want them to.
I want to believe.
I want to have the hope I try and give to others.
I want to be happy.
I want to be a mom.
But it sounds silly to even say.
And I don’t think I’m supposed to be a mom, sometimes.
And it weirds me out to think of myself as anything more than what I am.
Because somewhere along this road, somebody stole my fairy dust…

BUT…I am hopeful.
Just not as eager as I used to be.
I am calmly, quietly, hopeful.