We are all making it.
It’s not supposed to be easy. I knew that. Nothing ever is. At least nothing worth having comes easy. I get it. But, I didn’t know we would get the happiest news that we’ve so desperately waited for while a war broke out in my home country and while my dear grandmother began her war here at home.
“You’ve met the parameters needed to start an IUI cycle! We can start today.” Naturally, tears ran down my cheeks as I was told the news on day one of my period - a day I thought was far away. I made my way to only .2 over the BMI needed to qualify for fertility treatments and I learned that on day one of my period. That means it’s GO time. It’s also Valentine’s Day. A holiday I seldom acknowledge, but one that really showed lots of love for this year. Excitement. Joy. Love. Smiles. All the rainbows and unicorns you can think of filled my heart. But, also, the fear. Will it work? What if it doesn’t. Will we carry to full term? What if we don’t. Fuck.
The doubt isn’t new. It’s been around since 2011, a year that changed my entire being. That year, Brett and I learned of our first pregnancy. One that unfortunately had to be terminated. Sorry, technical terms. Abortion. I had to have an abortion. I’ll save that for another day, because I want to go back to 2022, with the rainbows and unicorns.
PCOS, pre-diabetes, thyroid imbalance, all have been tamed for the time being and have led to the final OK from the fertility clinic. As I shared the news with Brett, we hugged and stood in silence. The countdown begins. In three days, I was to take the first round of medications. “No side effects” - except for me, because I tend to always be the 1%. Nausea, diarrhea, dizzy spells, vomiting, unsettled stomach, you get the idea. Thankfully, we changed up the timing of my diabetes meds and I experienced relief. Next up were the ultrasounds and bloodwork, every other day. Those went a little something like this - tell the nurse it’s hard to find your veins and she takes it as a challenge and eventually finds them, then undress waist down while a giant wand is inserted into your uterus and we all stare at a screen to watch what starts out as little chocolate chips (doctor said it, not me) grow into mature follicles that are ready for conception. I’ve never felt more pride for my body when I watched the chocolate chips grow. We’d have cheering parties for every millimeter of growth.
I’m missing an important part here. During this journey, my babushka (Ukrainian for grandmother), who was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer in 2021, fell. It was either a stroke, a seizure, a faint spell. That doesn’t matter now. She was found drenched in sweat from not being able to move. Her visit to the hospital proved to show how aggressively her cancer spread. We knew it did, but she wasn’t being monitored since she refused treatment. It’s everywhere. Brain, lungs, liver. During her five days in the hospital, she won over the staff. No complaining, despite the pain all doctors said she would/should be in. Just love for those that cared for her, and the occasional outcry for Ukraine, our homeland, who was on the brink of war.
Fuck.
Ukraine was invaded by Russia. Our babushka is home now, on hospice, and it’s been a week since the fall. Her state is declining, she cannot move, has no energy to hold herself up, she’s lost 35 pounds in 5 days and counting, she’s losing a lot of blood in her urine and her bowel movements. She’s a shell of herself. But she’s still trying, despite the cancer invading her every organ with each moment.
Ukraine fights, and babushka fights. Fuck cancer and fuck the dictator that chose war over peace.
Oh right, Brett and I are fighting to have a baby, too. The irony doesn’t fall flat on me - we are fighting to bring life into this world as so many lives are being lost. The IUI is scheduled and we must remain positive. I mean that quite literally - doctors orders. I didn’t ask how that’s possible when we are flooded with such turmoil. It’s not worth it to ask. Instead, I injected myself with the trigger shot for ovulation, as instructed, and walked through the clinic doors, with Brett by my side.
The IUI is done, babushka is so done, the people of Ukraine are far from done. And now, we wait.