It feels like all of my patience for tty got burned up before we actually started trying. Serious plans for trying began after we'd been married 2 years. Then we had to wait 6 months for a big family trip to a 3rd world country. Then the inoculations we had to take for said trip pushed waiting another 6 months. When the time for precaution passed and we could finally start trying, I was elated. Sex was exciting and held a deep satisfaction in that I was making a baby with the man I loved.
When it hit me that we had been unsuccessful for nine months, I became a weepy, angry crazed mess. At least for me, sex has become a source of anxiety, and I can't talk to my partner about it because whenever we have a talk about sex, we don't have any. My mother has brought up IVF, (which, without proper diagnosis and hitting a full year of non-success is a little mean.) Friends who started trying (and ones who weren't,) have all delivered healthy beautiful babies and are asking, "When are you guys gonna take the plunge?"
I'll get to a point where I can calm down and throw my hands in the air, because there's no control in making a miracle happen (which is extra hard for this control-freak.) Then something will happen; having to buy baby stuff for work, getting another baby shower invite in the mail or any other reminder of what isn't happening for us and I lose it. I'm angry at my husband for not taking charge of having sex more often. I hate that I can't talk to him much about what I'm going through because he doesn't seem to get it, and if he ever did understand, both of us would be freaking out and further diminishing our chances.
God's timing isn't matching up to what I so intensely desire and all of the anger and sadness I feel are like throwing punches in the wind. Getting to a place where I can just go with the flow is so hard. Reading the stories of others who've been through this experience helps so much- especially the older stories that are written by women who have since been successful in having a baby.