My 5th Survivor Anniversary

This week marks five years. Five years since my last treatment didn't result in pregnancy.
Five years since I decided to stop trying to become a mom and start changing my life.

5 years, 4 addresses, 3 jobs, 2 (and a half) years of graduate school, and 1 divorce later...

I am happy.

Or at least I was. Until a couple of weeks ago.
Now I feel anxious and uncertain.

Which brings me back to five years ago...
So many unwelcome feelings of today take me back to the darkest years of my life.

*****

I am a survivor.
I survived infertility.
I survived all of its trauma and devastation.

This is an important anniversary for me and it is all my own. I do not share it with anyone. Nobody even knows about it. Nobody I know is aware of this pivotal date in my life and nobody I know can relate to my loss. Except you all. You all know my grief and my strength. Thank you.

I've written about my survivor anniversary every year I've had this blog:
My 2nd Survivor Anniversary
My 3rd Survivor Anniversary
My 4th Survivor Anniversary

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In terms of today and this point in time, I am at a loss for words right now.
As we all know, sometimes there are no words.

Although this post is shorter than in previous years, the message is still the same:
We Are Survivors.

Using My Tools

I learned a shitload from my experience with infertility.
And that is how I'm coping during this pandemic.

Now that I am living my life after infertility without children, I know the following:

• I know life disruptions can be devastating. Life does not go as planned. Big plans, little plans, I now count on nothing.
  
  
• But I don't let this keep me from living my life. I keep living and planning. I just don't believe plans ever happen until they are actually happening.
  
  
• Disease does not discriminate. (Ok, I *knew* this previous to experiencing infertility, but there is no knowing something like going through something.)
  
  
• I can be easily motivated by fear. However, I can remain aware of my panicky feelings, but I do not have to act on them.
  
  
• There are things I can do to manage my mental health. For me, these things include maintaining a regular sleeping schedule, showering every day, doing something productive or helpful, and organizing, writing lists, or doing something creative no matter how small.
  

We will get through this.
We don't know what the other side will look like yet, but we will get through this.

Dealing With My Body

I write this as I recover on the couch, still feeling a little foggy from the anti-anxiety medication my doctor prescribed me for my appointment/procedure today. (Yes, I had a ride home. I definitely wasn't allowed to drive after that pill lol.)

This time went better than the last couple of times. I keep getting bad test results so the doctor keeps wanting to try and get more information, but to say that my body doesn't cooperate during the procedure is nothing new to me. This time wasn't as painful, but the doctor was honest and told me she might not have obtained the sample she wanted.

Invasive exams make me emotional. It is not in my control. I saw the same doctor for my whole womanhood until I moved out of state, and she knew me and watched me grow up and was with me through everything. This doctor is new to me. But today as I unnecessarily apologized for my tears and stated how embarrassed I was she said, "It's okay. I know you now. You have nothing to apologize for or be embarrassed about."

(I think my strong emotions took her by surprise the first time I saw her. But hey, I know I'm a very sensitive, emotional patient. It's what makes me good at my job at the hospital. I can really empathize with my patients. In fact, I told my doctor that I got a job in acute care and that I could really relate to my patients and she said she could see me being really good at my job. Thanks for the validation, doctor! Always very much appreciated.)

Anyway.

So how long do I want to keep going on like this? Going in for biopsies every six months?
It's not exactly convenient or cheap or easy on me.

Maybe I'll get some good information from today's procedure. Even if I don't, I will move forward with making a decision on whether or not to have surgery this summer. Whatever I do, I know I will make a thoughtful, informed decision and that's what gives me comfort.