As the ultimate story of faith, sacrifice and hope began to unfold on the movie screen, so did the genesis of my emotional meltdown. Epic. Apocalyptic. And completely hormonal.
In a rush decision last Wednesday, I began taking clomiphene (Clomid) to prepare for our first IUI treatment. Two by two, I loaded the chalky little pills into my mouth and swallowed them down the hatch. I bunkered myself in and warned my husband to braced himself for a bumpy ride; however, besides the random hot flash, it had been pretty calm waters.
Then the evening tuned to morning and behold, it was the sixth day.
On this day, I started estrogen. And I felt like crap. Besides the cramping and bloating, I couldn't shake the blues and I was exhausted. So I slept. Upon one waking moment, I started watching the movie Chasing Mavericks, the true story of a surf veteran who saves a boy from drowning and takes him under his wing, priming him into becoming a young legend in his own right. In the end, there is death. Heart wrenching, beautiful, paradoxical death. I cried. Loudly and uncontrolably. Wailing oceans of salty tears. The great flood. When it was finally over, I had nothing left. It felt like I had gotten to know the characters and now I was empty. I slept.
Dramatic much?
And so came the seventh day. Sunday. And it was good; taking our time to enjoy the morning, my sweet husband didn't judge me for being lazy and crazy yet again. We decided to go to the theater where he picked the movie Noah. While the hollywood version was more science fiction than based on the Bible, I got sucked in like rain in a hurricane.
Spoiler Alert!
In this story, Noah had an adopted daughter who they all believe to be barren until she is healed by Grandad Methuselah and bears twins daughters to her husband, Noah's oldest son. This provides just enough of what they need to establish a new world, now having a female to procreate for each remaining son. However, it takes some Oscar-winning performances from both wives to convince Noah not to kill them all, as sinners and as he had promised God.
Wavering faith. A silent Creator. Miracle after miracle. Mothers fighting for their babies' lives. A family tested. Somebody hand me a rainbow-colored Kleenex already! Cue in loud and uncontrollable sobbing. Don't forget the oceans of salty tears. This was the great flood. Close curtain with pure exhaustion.
But as the credits scrolled and I sat there in the darkness, the message I remember from my childhood church was not lost on me - In the beginning...on MY first day, there was light rising out of the void. A donation from my own family was delivered unto me. The amount was exactly enough added to my online account to cover my first fertility treatment. Through all the troubled waters and through all the thick and thin, God provides just enough. No more. No less.
Be not anxious.
The ravens are fed.
Be not anxious.
The ravens are fed.
Have hope!
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