Katy Vs. Her Ovaries - Odds Are...

Recently, I went out to eat to celebrate a friend’s birthday. There were four other couples at this dinner, plus Cody and me. Among those five married couples, there were three children and another on the way. At some point in the night, I looked down the table and saw three mothers tending to three children. Oddly, this moment of maternal affection suddenly made my current baby situation make a little more sense to me. I realized that in in a group of young, seemingly healthy people there has to be someone who falls victim to the natural odds of fertility. Out of five couples, I realized that Cody and I happen to be the one out of however many people who struggle to have a child. We have fulfilled those odds. In other words, the rest of you baby-making fools can thank us for your little bundle of joy.

As I continued to sit at that dinner table, I started to make note of all of the parts of my life that fulfill some meaningless statistic. I thought about breast cancer and heart disease and depression. I thought about addiction and above average height and terrible eye sight. I pretty much threw myself a pity party that started with an innocent glance down a table and ended with my having eaten approximately half a dozen rolls to alleviate the pain associated with all of the crappy odds that exist in my life.

Now, in the past this is where this story would end. I would have gone home, continued to drown my pity in carbs, and moved on with my life. However, there is a new Katy Prater floating through the universe these days, who tries to balance her propensity for  “I-hate-the-world” moments with a much more appreciative and grateful attitude that focuses on all the goodness around her. In the time after I ran out of rolls, I decided to make note of all of the positive statistics of which my life consists. I thought about my family and supportive parents. I thought about my marriage and college degree and job. I thought about my house and health and happiness. I thought about how my life is far more privileged and magical than I could ever deserve, and I realized that we all have to fulfill some sort of odds. Each of us carries an albatross around our necks, and I suppose it is how we respond to that stupid bird that ends up being significant.

With the rest of my evening, I held those babies that my friends care for on a daily basis. I asked questions about pregnancy and child care and school and deciding to have more than one of those little creatures. I told my friends that their kids were adorable (because they are) and was grateful that I get to spend time with sweet babies who were created and are cared for by the good people in my life.

As I walked away from the restaurant that night with my husband’s hand in mine, I felt a little more acceptance of my current situation. I held Cody’s hand a little tighter. I appreciated him being there a little more. I loved him a little better. I continued to pay attention to all of the goodness around me because I am slowly starting to accept that we must revel in who we have right now. I can’t keep focusing on what may or may not happen after Lupron or after my mom’s chemo quits working or after I get pregnant. Those are all worries for another day. We must absorb all of the good in preparation for another day. And we must never, ever let the rolls run out. 

Katy Vs. Her Ovaries - Plan B

I went last week to get my final Lupron shot. In other words, I am at the beginning of my last thirty days of the medicine. The two months that I have been on the medicine have flown by. Between enduring the craziness of a new school year and all that comes with Fall, I haven't hardly thought about Lupron or babies or my lack thereof. The longer I am on the medicine the more side effects I am experiencing. I have hot flashes everyday now. I am also having some bone pain which is common. I go back November 3rd to speak with Dr. Bell about the next plan of action.

I am so ready for life to slow down a bit in the next couple of weeks. I am excited for the end of volleyball season so that I won't be working so much, and I can enjoy some free time. However, I am a little worried about a slow down. Christmastime the past few years has been the time of year when having a baby really interests me. It's something about a holiday season with a family full of adults that leaves folks asking a lot of questions about coming up with some children to open presents the next year. Certainly it's more fun to watch a kid tear open a package than my thirty year old brother. No offense, Jared.

In the past few months, I have sort of pushed the idea of parenthood out of my mind. I knew that I had three months where getting pregnant was not an option, and instead all I had to was worry with work and graduate classes and other normal stuff. It's been nice. I haven't missed negative pregnancy tests. I haven't missed counting days and trying to interpret the inner-workings of my body. I have just been me without so much guilt about not being able to get pregnant. The break has been appreciated.

So, I'm left with facing the next step, whatever it might be. I realize that in order to have a child I will have to at least try. That magical dream of just turning up pregnant no longer exists anywhere inside of me. I have accepted that this story is going to unfold differently than I originally anticipated. And I've accepted that everything associated with getting pregnant unfolds in thirty day intervals. Slow, lonely, frustrating thirty day intervals.

The volleyball team that I coach played a tournament this weekend at the high school I attended. In the halls of the school are some plaques and trophies that I won years ago. Some of my players were looking at the plaques and called me over to ask me some questions about playing sports. After we were done talking, I stood in that hall looking at those plaques that I won almost a decade ago. I felt a sense of envy thinking back on my seventeen year old self who never wondered what my purpose was. I never questioned if playing sports was what I was meant to do. I could use wins and losses and points scored and newspaper articles as proof that I was doing something worth doing. Being an athlete was always so easy for me. I suddenly really missed having something in my life so inevitable.

I couldn't help but feel a little deflated at the realization of who I am today compared to who I was ten years ago. For whatever reason, I don't get a ton of satisfaction out of being a teacher and coach. I don't feel immense pride for waking up each day and going to work. I don't feel like I am accomplishing much by taking Master's classes. I don't feel like I am doing much to speak of in this world. Sometimes I feel like I am just treading water, staying afloat until something significant happens. I have always told myself that one day I will have a child and the lack of direction and purpose in my current situation will suddenly be swallowed up by this tiny human that Cody and I create. I have always assumed that being a mother is the next big thing, and perhaps the only big thing. Standing in that familiar hallway yesterday I was forced to start considering a Plan B that doesn't involve motherhood the way I envision it.

And then the thought of a Plan B jogged my memory to a time years ago before I was married to Cody in which I enlisted the emergency contraceptive Plan B in a feverish meltdown over the .0001% possibility of getting pregnant without technically have sex. Yes, this truly happened, my friends. I have always been so supremely confident in my reproductive abilities (or perhaps unhealthily scared of being judged for an unplanned pregnancy) that I assumed I was pregnant before losing my virginity.

My name is Katy and I am neurotic and out of control and absolutely befuddled at the idea that I cannot get pregnant.