Just Hangin' Around

I’m still here. I’ve been absent for quite a while and I fear that I have some rust to remove from my writing hands. I’ve been reading all of your blogs and following along with your struggles, your pregnancies and watching your children grow and change. I just haven’t been a good commenter. I feel that I usually don’t have much insight to add. Especially when it comes to sleep schedules, new foods to feed babies, cloth diapering or how to stay healthy during pregnancy. It’s true...most of the blogs I read have moved to the other side. There is a few that still struggle with IF but that is the minority of the blogs I have in my Reader. Anywho...


I’ve gotten a couple of comments recently asking me how I’m doing and if things get better and how I’m dealing with everything. Here is what I can tell you:

• Life goes on. As much as we don’t want it to, it does. And it seems to move at lightning speed sometimes. Then at other times it slows to a pace that rivals a snail crawling across the sidewalk.

• It still hurts. Every day I hurt. I have to put it aside and keep it to myself, but it’s still there. This time of year can be especially painful. I had to endure my SIL’s Christmas party where there were about 5 toddlers, a 1-year-old, a newborn and a pregnant woman. There’s a story about the pregnant woman but it can wait. I came home and cried...in my bathroom...alone. I held the beautiful necklace that my bloggy buddy Esperanza sent to me right after my loss. It’s the first time since the day I received it that I held it in my hand and spoke to it like I was speaking to my lost child. It sits on my bathroom counter and I have touched it a few times but this is the first time that I held it and cried.

• I still have h-o-p-e. I don’t know why and I don’t know where it comes from. It sneaks in at really bad times and plays with my emotions like nothing I’ve ever known. It sucks, but I still have hope. Even though I know I have crap eggs and nothing will change about that. Even though I do not (nor will I ever) have the money for donor eggs. Even with a mental understanding that God never intended for me to have a child, I have hope.

• I’m ok. I’m not good or great or enthusiastic ...but I’m ok. As ok as I can be. Well, I guess I could work harder at it but I’m lazy and I’m not ready to try that hard.

This Christmas is proving to be a really tough one for me. I’m a step mother and that is a good thing. I get to have a child in my life and to experience holidays and such in a “family” way. I’m a hockey fan and I have turned my step son (and my husband) into fans, too. It’s sort of our “thing”. The Little Guy and I go to games and to the Convention and I buy him hockey gear and trinkets and things like that. His mother is a huge NASCAR fan. We like racing but not as much as she does. It’s sort of “their” thing. All of a sudden, she is invading my private space. She bought the Little Guy a new jersey, hockey tickets and a night in a hotel after the game. She also bought herself a matching jersey. I don’t know why but I have a feeling that she doesn’t like that the LG and I share this so she wants to let me know who’s boss...so to speak. BJ is not happy about it but what can he say? We can’t tell her she’s not allowed to buy those things. But seriously? Why is she taking this away from me? It’s not like I don’t know where I stand in his life. I know who Top Dog is and it’s not me. It just sucks. I don’t have much with him that is just “ours” and now I really don’t have anything. Maybe I’m just being selfish. I don’t care. If it’s selfish then call me Queen Selfish. Not to mention that on Christmas day I should be 38 weeks pregnant and about to welcome my own little miracle to the world. That, too, was taken from me. Sometimes I really wonder how the Universe works and why it seems to work against me in these ways.

I have much to be thankful for and trust me, it has not gone unnoticed. I have a family, I have my health, and I have a job and a house and car. I’m able to buy things for others for Christmas and also to help out a few charitable causes. I’m grateful to be able to do those things. It gives me a happy feeling inside. Again, I’m being selfish, but I want to be able to do the one thing I can’t.

I have much more to update but for now I just wanted to stop in and say hello. I wanted to let anyone that might be suffering that a) you are not alone and b) it gets better...it doesn’t go away, but it gets better.

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and a very blessed New Year! There are many of you that will have your babies in your arms for the first time this Christmas...Joy to the World!! And there are others that will spend this Christmas with a big belly...Halleluiah!! I wish you all nothing but goodness and good cheer. I can’t wait to see more pictures with Santa and first Christmas pictures. Love to you all!

Where's the Light?

Where’s the light at the end of the tunnel? It’s a very common saying when someone is going through a rough time. It’s also used as flippantly as when someone is exercising and they can’t wait to stop. I’m still looking for my light. The “light” symbolizes that a bad/uncomfortable situation is about to get better...that you are almost through it. I see no signs of that light.


I feel like I’m actually going backwards in my healing process. Pregnant bellies make my eyes well up with tears like never before. It affects me so profoundly sometimes that I forget, just for a second or two, where I’m going or what I was in the middle of saying or thinking.

There are the normal, everyday reminders of IF that we all face...babies, children, families, pregnant bellies etc. And then there are the reminders that some us that have step-children face – the field trips we don’t get to go on because the “real” mom gets first choice and of course she wants to go, having to call the child your “step” child when in public...things like that. It really hurts sometimes. No, it hurts all the time.

I’ve figured out why I can’t stay motivated to eat less and work out more. I really want to lose some weight and some inches and just be more physically healthy. However, I can’t seem to stay on track for more than a week, if that. The answer hit me the other day. I’m angry at my body and even though I know we are supposed to be good to our bodies, I don’t want to be. I’m angry because my body has let me down. My body has not been good to ME (in the reproductive sense) so why should I be good to IT? I know it might sound strange, but that epiphany struck a chord with me. I’m a healthy adult. I have had blood work done and I’m very healthy. The only issue is my underactive thyroid, something I don’t have much control over without medication, which I take every day. I rarely drink, have never done drugs or smoked so over all I think I’ve been pretty good to my bodily health. I’m not over weight, at least I don’t think I am. I’m 5’2” and weigh about 132. I would like to lose about 10 pounds and a couple of inches to feel better about my image, though. I’ve lost my will power to say “no” to certain things. Back in late 2004, early 2005 I lost 35 pounds and I felt great. I’ve gained almost 25 of those pounds back, mostly over the last 2 years. Are we seeing a connection? I started fertility treatments in early 2009...hmmmm....seems to all add up doesn’t it?

I wish I knew how to get out of this funk. I wish I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, I feel lost in the tunnel. I lean up against the kitchen counter and look down at my non-pregnant belly and it’s like a slap in the face. I think to myself, “I should be 25 weeks pregnant and I should not be able to lean up against this counter like this”. It’s torture to say the least. I think that’s why the pregnant bellies bother me so much now...because I should be there. It’s not a longing like it was before I saw those 2 lines. It’s more of a feeling of loss now. I lost my chance to have that big belly when my body failed me by giving me bad eggs. My body failed me by letting my baby go. Why should I do anything nice for my body?

I know there is no answer for what I’m going through except to give myself more time. I just wish I knew when it would get better. The smallest things bring me to tears anymore. Things like the new show Up All Night. The first (or maybe second) episode had the mom coming home from work after the baby was in bed. At the end of the show the mom is talking to her daughter and promised her that if she weren’t there at bed time that she’d always be there when she woke up. It was a simple thing, but it made me cry. I’ll never have that sort of “conversation” with my child. I can’t read sappy new mom blog posts without my eyes welling up. I’m posting comments through tears because I want to feel as grateful as the new mom says she is. I want to feel the power of the mother/child bond like they write about. But it’s just not meant to be for me. I don’t know why and I’ve pretty much stopped asking. It doesn’t much matter why because I can’t change it. Not worrying about why doesn’t stop me from hurting or longing or being angry about it, though. It just adds to the darkness of this tunnel I’m living in. I’m actively searching for the light because I know it has to be there...somewhere...right?

Thank You!

I don’t have much time so I’m going to make this quick. I just want to thank each and every one of you for your comforting comments and your (((hugs))). You all get it and that in itself means the world to me. And an extra Thank You to my buddy, Mo, who gave me a personal shout out the other day and sent even more love my way. You rock, lady!


I can’t say that I’m better, but I guess for right now I’m dealing with it better. It’s been an emotional week around here (my head) to say the least. I was dealing with my own personal crap and then an earthquake struck, a hurricane came through and someone at the office tried to burn the place down by burning up a tortilla in the office toaster oven. Earth, wind and fire....I can’t make this stuff up, people.

Again, thank you so very much. I am always amazed at the support and understanding that I receive from all of you. Although, I don’t know why...you have never failed me or judged me in any way, shape or form. I can always count on you for an understanding ear and for that I am truly grateful.

I’m going to be better about posting as I do have several things I want to get in to with you and of course I need to continue on with my family saga. We are leaving for Myrtle Beach on Wednesday and I can’t wait. I need to get out of here in the worst way. I’m getting my hair cut and my toes done tomorrow in preparation and then packing and getting everything ready so we can head out Wednesday afternoon.

Hugs and love to you all and I’ll talk at’cha later! My grandmother used to say that, “talk at’cha later”...gotta love it.

It's Been a Long Time

Sorry for my absence. I have about 6 posts running around in my head but I just don’t have the desire to type them all out. I don’t have the desire for much lately. I’ve been reading blogs sporadically and commenting even less. I’m a sucky support system lately. I apologize for that.


I think the realization of what my situation is has finally started to hit home. For a while I was hopeful that I could find a way to come up with the money for donor eggs. That was definitely a fruitless endeavor. I don’t have a money tree and I’m not going to put my current family in dire straits by taking out a loan on my 401k that would result in a $550 a month payment. We don’t have enough equity in our house for a loan or a refinance option. I don’t have $30,000 worth of stuff to sell on eBay. I’m out of ideas. I’m out of hope.

I have some really great things to write about, like my nephew came and spent a few days with us and it was pure bliss...exhausting, but wonderful. I’ll write about the visit another time. It would also make more sense to all of you if I explained his situation so that is a post for another day.

Right now, I’m about to start my period and I’m really pissed and angry and bitter about it. I should be scheduled for my 20 week scan this week. Instead, I’m starting another cycle. This will be the case until I hit menopause. I will just keep having periods until the rest of my body decides to catch up with my ovaries and stops working altogether. I really fucking hate this.

There have been a couple of BFP’s in blogs that I read. I’m happy for these women as they have struggled for years to get this far. I’m also hoping that their betas continue to rise as they should. While I’m happy for them, I’m sad for me. I know most of you can understand that, at least I hope you can. I felt their happiness once before, albeit for a short time, but I had it...and then I didn’t. I miss that happiness. I miss that hope. I hope that they continue to progress and in 8.5 months hold their baby(ies) in their arms. I just want it to be me. Oh, and another blogger just posted her adoption story and it brought me to tears. I know how much she struggled and suffered to bring that beautiful baby boy home and I couldn’t be happier for her. Again, I just wish I could feel that much happiness.

I wanted to make a round of phone calls this week and let everyone know that we were team pink or team blue. However, these cramps and this spotting have reminded me once again, that those types of phone calls will never be made from my phone.

I’ve been feeling very down lately and I didn’t want to come here and be negative which is why I’ve stayed away for so long. Sometimes I just need to release all the negative emotions and this is pretty much the only place I have to do that. Although, I’m finding it difficult to put anything coherent together and to convey my feelings properly without sounding like a mental case.

I can’t believe that I really won’t ever be pregnant...that I won’t ever have a child and that I won’t ever be a mother. I know I have the Little Guy, but he already has his mother so I just get to step in every once in a while and “play” mommy. It sucks. And it sucked sending my nephew back to my sister. I just want a child that I love as my own to call me mom. I’m always left empty handed and it just doesn’t feel right. I have so much love to give and so many maternal feelings that I never really thought I wouldn’t be a mom. I guess God just had other plans for me. He obviously wants me to be happy with the smidgeon of parenting that I get to do while the “real” moms get all the devotion and love. Whatever. It’s no use crying about it, right? Crying never changed anything anyway.

It is what it is and I guess it’s finally sinking in. I’m not going to be a mom...ever. There it is, the final statement. Maybe this is rock bottom? I hope so because I don’t know how I could feel any worse. I’m hoping that I can find a way to rebuild and refocus my life. I don’t want to feel like this anymore but right now I don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know it’s there, but it’s still too far away for me to see it.

I apologize for the dark and dreary post but I have to let some of this out before I explode. I promise to be a better reader and commenter as you all have shown me nothing but understanding and support and you deserve the same in return.

IF on HGTV

I think I’ve mentioned that BJ and I like to watch house hunters on HGTV. We started watching the show about the time we were thinking of selling our old house. We watched to get ideas about staging, to gawk at mansions and to get ideas of things we’d like in our next house.


The shows are based on young couples buying their first place or young families looking for more room. There are shows about families with older children and retired people as well. All too often it’s geared toward newlyweds that end up pregnant at the end of the show because they wanted to get started on their family building right away. Lucky them. There have been many times when I have talked to the TV and said things like “it might not be that easy!” and “not everyone gets knocked up just because they want to!” And then the woman ends up pregnant at the end anyway, despite my discord.

BJ and I were watching a show last week and the written description said that it was a young couple moving on from painful memories. I couldn’t wait for it to come on because I love a good story. Well, wouldn’t you know it was about IF! The young couple got married and wanted a baby right away. They had problems...they suffered from infertility. They saved up money to travel to the Czech Republic for an IVF since it was so expensive here in the states. Unfortunately, it did not work. They were devastated. With each interview I was so impressed with how they tried to convey their disappointment, their sadness, their overall emotional turmoil. At one point, I looked at BJ and said, “She’s been crying...look at her eyes.”

They had a small budget because on the off chance that they could afford more treatments they didn’t want to be cash strapped. They said they needed to move out of their house and start fresh and put the pain and suffering behind them and try to focus on the future. BJ tapped my leg and said to the TV, “my baby knows how that feels.” For all they knew they were done trying to have a child. The disappointment was so intense that they just wanted to run from any memory of it.

They chose a house and as usual the show comes back and films more footage to wrap the story up. The crew came back 4 months later. The woman said, “we’ve been in the house 3 months now...” and I caught a glimpse of her stomach. I asked BJ if she was pregnant. He said she wasn’t sure, it was hard to tell. The couple kept talking and made no mention of a baby and I thought for sure she was just a little pudgy. The very next scene showed them sitting on the floor looking at paint chips and discussing which color would be good for a nursery. The camera cut to the woman and she stated that they went on a trip to Italy and decided to give IVF in the Czech Republic one more go ‘round. It worked. They are now having a baby. BJ said, “I knew it...”

As pissed as I was that they ended up pregnant, I was genuinely happy for them. They seemed like such nice people and they had obviously struggled to get there. As many episodes as I’ve seen (and it’s been A LOT) they have never dealt with IF. This couple talked about the emotional turmoil of IF and of their failed IVF. They had so much invested and then to come home empty handed was devastating for them. I was glad to have their story out there and I told BJ how brave I thought they were for coming forward on TV like that.

I just wish that we all could get a happy ending like they did. All too often many of us are just left with empty arms and diminished bank accounts. And don’t think I didn’t Google the hell out of IVF in the Czech Republic. And yes, it’s very cheap compared to here and there are companies that assist couples with all aspects of their travel from airport transportation to rides to and from the clinic to sight-seeing tours. It’s amazing. All in all I think the show did a good job with this couple. I’m sorry they struggled but I am happy that they received their miracle.

Letting Go and/or Moving On

I just read something on FB and it brought tears to my eyes:


Laugh when you can,
Apologize when you should,
And let go of what you can’t change.
Letting go doesn’t mean you’re giving up,
It means you’re moving on.

I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to move on. I don’t know how to do those things. I guess in time I will figure it out. I don’t really have a choice. Like the little saying says, I can’t change it.

The same person posted this saying:

I can choose to let regrets define me, confine me, refine me, outshine me – or I can choose to move on and leave them behind me.

I have many regrets that I have let go of and some that I haven’t. Even with my spiritual crisis lately I can’t honestly say that I regret doing our IVF. That is hard for me to admit because I question whether or not God actually sent me down that path or my own free will did. I don’t regret it because it gave me several days of real motherhood. Like I said in a previous post I believe, for me anyway, that it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. My heart was so full of love and happiness that I could barely contain it. I have never known love like that. I feel extremely grateful for the opportunity to have loved so much in such a short amount of time.

I must really like to torture myself, too. I went back and read the posts from my very first BFP to the end...I also read all the comments. That girl was so happy and confused and hopeful and scared. Most of all, she was pregnant and then she wasn’t. It was almost like I was reading someone else’s blog. It feels like a lifetime ago. All the comments were so sweet and genuine and reassuring and supportive. I would not have been able to get through things as well as I did (have I?) if not for you guys. When I asked for level headed that is what I got. When the shit hit the fan I got tons of love and hugs. There is no place like my little place in the blogosphere.

I know this is quite a rambling post and I didn’t have any intention on posting today but after reading that saying on FB I needed to come here and let out a little emotion. It hit a cord with me to say the least. I’ve been racking my brain on ways to get money for egg donor and at the same time wondering why I’m even thinking about it. It’s very simple really; I don’t know how to let go or move on...yet.

Lately I have not been praying for a miracle baby. I have been asking for strength to let go of my yearning. I have been asking for help with acceptance. I guess I need to pray harder because it’s not working. Or maybe God knows that I don’t really mean it. Since He knows what’s in my heart then He must know that I still desperately want to carry a child. I’m trying to get over this, I really am. Most days I’m ok and then other days...well, I’m a mess. I guess it’s a process that I have to go through until I get to acceptance, right? I wonder how much longer I have to wait.

Out of the Blue

I was getting ready to write a post about my weekend when my cell phone started ringing. I looked down to see my clinic’s name and number on the display. I thought about not answering it. I thought about whether or not we were scared away with our bill. I thought (and this is completely crazy but it actually went through my head for a split-split second) my last embryo didn’t really die...they froze it and forgot to tell me and want to transfer it right away! I know, I know, crazy and completely out of left field but that’s one of the things that popped into my head.


It was my nurse calling to catch up with me. I told her that I had nothing new to report. We pretty much know our only option is an egg donor and it’s a bit out of our price range. She agreed that it’s very expensive. I also told her that I had even spoken to the DE coordinators and went over all of our options and we are pretty much stuck right now...just healing. She was very sweet and understanding and said that if I needed anything from her or Dr. M to just call her...even if I just wanted to talk about what we are going through. I thought that was very nice of her.

This call came at a very sensitive time for me. As I said, I was about to post about my weekend. Here’s a snippet of how yesterday was for me:

I was sitting on the couch browsing through my pictures on my cell phone when my pee stick pictures popped up. I was taken aback a little and BJ noticed. He asked me what the picture was and I told him it was my positive pregnancy test...I had forgotten it was on there. I flipped back a few more pictures and there were my embryos. I didn’t forget they were on there I just apparently like to torture myself.

We had to go to our niece’s birthday party yesterday. She is turning 4 tomorrow. The entire family (BJ’s BIL’s side) was there. This family has exploded over the last 2 years to say the least. There were 6 toddlers there aged 3 and under. And to make matters worse, my SIL’s friend showed up. She’s 47 years old and has been fighting secondary IF for about 8 or 9 years. She’s due September 1. Everyone was fawning all over her. I’m fine with it as she has fought hard (not sure how the baby was conceived and won’t ask) to get this second child. I just wish it were ME. I was supposed to be 15 weeks pregnant right now. They were talking about her shower and how she’s feeling and if they’ve thought of any names. Very typical stuff. Like I said, I’m very happy that she is finally to this point with a healthy pregnancy and baby...I’m just jealous. I was so ready to leave. BJ was ready to go but he just doesn’t like all the commotion and screaming of so many little kids. Ugh.

I don’t remember much of my dreaming last night except this one little tidbit: I had just POAS and got a VERY dark second line. It was so dark, it was almost black. Someone had to tell me to look at it again to prove to myself that the 2nd line was there. I remember thinking that there is no way I’m losing THIS pregnancy....look at how dark that 2nd line is. The next thing that happened was I woke up (except I was still asleep) within the dream and had to remind myself that it was real and that I wasn’t dreaming. Imagine my disappointment when I woke up FOR REAL and realized the whole thing was a dream.

And then my nurse called me this morning. If you add that to all my conflicting feelings regarding my Faith and my “plan”....what do you get? A big emotional mess.

Geez...my mind really knows how to mess with me.

Anyway...thank you all for reading through my mix of emotions last week regarding my crisis of Faith and my apparent floundering. You all have great opinions and insight and I really do appreciate your views. I wish I could reply to comments but have yet to figure out how to do that in Blogger. I’d like people to get notified (you know, like on FB) that I have replied to their comment. If I just post a comment I don’t think the person is notified...they’d have to come back and read through everything to see if I have responded. Anyone have any better methods?

Happiness Is...

I did not proof read this post so I apologize for any errors in advance...major time crunch here.  :-)

- Opening a door in my house (whether it’s my bedroom, the garage or the bathroom) and having little Gizmo meow loudly, throw himself on the floor, roll on his side and stretch (as only kitties can do) himself out so that his belly is fully exposed for me to rub. He’s such a sweetie and so damn loveable. I thanked him for being my personal escort every time I leave the powder room on the first floor. He sits and waits for me to come out and sometimes he puts his little paw under the door so that I touch it. He doesn’t escort BJ the same way so I feel a little special. :-)


- A beautiful weather weekend coming up. It will be in the mid-80’s and not nearly as humid as it has been. I can’t wait to spend some time outside Saturday cleaning up my rose bushes and maybe buying a new set of hanging baskets for the porch. The ones we have are just about dead. It got so hot that no matter how much I watered them they are just wilting away.

- Working out on a regular basis again. I’m not doing a lot right now because I work out on my lunch break and don’t want to get all sweaty and nasty. The things I have been doing are making me feel better. I’ve also declared war on my will power and have been trying to be a lot more cautious about what I’m eating and how much of it. I’ve put on almost 10 pounds this last year and I want it GONE. It might take a while but as long as I’m working on it, I’m happy with myself.

- Rita’s frozen custard. I had never been there before and we have one right in our town. BJ and I decided to try it out about a month or so ago. O.M.G.!! I love soft serve ice cream and this stuff is the best I’ve had in a long time! I had the chocolate (natch) with chocolate sprinkles and ate it out of a cup. It was so smooth and creamy and just melted (well duh) in my mouth. We’ve had it 2 more times since then. There is a place on the boardwalk down by where we used to live that serves soft serve ice cream and they have been my favorite for the longest time. Now this frozen custard stuff is trying to steal its place in my heart.

- Communicating with other bloggers . I love the blogging community, which is no secret. I always receive support and understanding from my readers. I know that I can come here and spout things and even if it sounds crazy or doesn’t make any sense I know that I am safe here. And for all of you new mommies (and not so new mommies) and you pregnant ladies...do not ever feel like you can’t comment or that I don’t want to hear from you just because you are on the “other side”. I love to hear from ALL of you.

Elaboration

I just want to elaborate a little on my last post. Some of your very insightful and thought provoking comments have gotten me to thinking about this some more.

I think “punish” was the wrong word. I think “consequence” would have been a more appropriate word to use. I feel that we all have consequences for our actions. Whether they are good consequences or bad. Every action has a reaction of sorts.

I remember some stories of great suffering in the Bible. Unfortunately, I’m not familiar enough with the stories to quote them here. I remember them, though. I know that God has the power to do anything...whether it’s to create life in a virgin or to flood the earth. There are reasons that He does these things that I will never understand. That’s why it’s called faith. I’m ok with that.

What I’m having trouble with is my belief that God creates every life for a reason. It might sound silly and naïve, but that is how my heart feels. It’s what I’ve always believed. I was taught that God has a plan for every person that He puts on this Earth. I also believe that people stray from the right path on many occasions. When I say the “right” path I mean the path that God intended the person to walk. That is where free will comes in.

With the free will that we were granted we make choices. THOSE choices shape our lives. I’m finding it harder and harder to believe that even if/when we make the wrong choice that it was “meant to be” and “in God’s plan”. Does God intend for people to become drug addicts and alcoholics? Does He intend for people to kidnap little kids and do unspeakable harm to them? Does He intend for people to commit suicide? I don’t think so. I think these people strayed off the path that God intended for them and made their own choices.

One of the commentors from yesterday stated that her desire for motherhood was God given. I totally get that. I feel I was born to be a mother. I feel it in my bones that I need to keep fighting and do whatever it takes to accomplish that goal. However, I think God has other plans for me. I was born with terrible eggs. I’m guessing that means God never intended for me to birth a child. I feel like no matter how certain I was that fertility treatments were right for me, that God was not leading me in that direction after all. I made those choices and I apparently was not listening to God enough. He has shown me over the last 10 years that His plan for me does not include a biological child. I’m finally starting to get it. It’s finally sinking in.

I’m not being punished for anything I have done or not done...I was born without the ability to produce a child. I’ve had a sort of epiphany about this lately. It really sucks ass, but it is what it is and there’s nothing I can do to change it. I don’t have a fixable problem. There’s no way to skirt around ovaries with bad eggs. Well, short of spending a minimum of $15,000 on a shared donor.

I’m starting to realize that the Little Guy is probably supposed to fill my need for mothering. I have always felt so lucky to have met BJ when I did. The fact that he had a little boy was such a bonus. The fact that he lets me mother his child is a real blessing. What I want is not what God wants for me. Nor is it what God obviously has planned for me. I made the choice to date BJ. I made the choice to marry him. Those were free will decisions. Those decisions brought this child into my life and that is a consequence I can deal with.

I’m still so very sad at the thought of ending my journey of trying for my own child. Sad is not even a good word to describe what I’m feeling. I don’t know what the future holds for me. I’m going to trust that God has some good things planned for me and that I don’t stray (keep straying?) from my path. Maybe I’m so far off the path that I am unable to find my way back. I hope not. With all my doubts lately I’m not even sure I have a definitive path. I’m just a compilation of my many choices. I know that God loves me. I’m one of His children and He loves us all. Even the non-believers out there, He loves you, too. God’s love for me was never in question. There are enough things that I question, but that is not one of them. I’m so grateful for His love. Right now though, my heart just aches for the life I had with me for that short time that is now with Him. I just hope that He didn’t give me that life and then take it away as a consequence for not following His will.

Ok, enough with all of that. I’m sure you are sick to death of reading about my spiritual crisis. Thank you all for your great comments. I get such great comfort in knowing that you are out there and that many of you have had some of these feelings, too. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Fate/Destiny/Master Plan?

I’m going to get a little religious/spiritual in this post. It might be offensive to some and it might make others laugh at me. I do not mean to offend anyone and the thoughts posted here are just that, my thoughts/opinions/feelings. I’ve wanted to write this post for a very long time but haven’t quite been able to put it all together. I still don’t know if it will come across as well thought out or not but I need to get it out of my head.

I’m a Christian. I believe in God and in Jesus as my Savior. I pray for others, myself and for forgiveness. I don’t go to church anymore and I don’t like that about myself but obviously not enough to change it. I try to lead a “good” life. I have pretty high standards for myself. I try to treat others in a way that I want to be treated. Pretty standard stuff.

In my journey of TTC there have been so many prayers to God. I’m sure you can relate to what those prayers entailed. I’ve tried bargaining, begging, desperation...none of it has worked. I never thought I’d try IVF. I didn’t think it was *natural* to create life like that. When the time came and we had the money I really felt that I was ready, both spiritually and mentally. I really thought it would work. I thought that God would see how much it really meant to me/us and He’d let it happen. I thought that He’d see that I was willing to give myself shots and put myself through the emotional wringer and He’d reward me/us. We were in the process of selling our house and trying to find a new place. The market was not good and we feared that we’d be stuck. We got an offer pretty quickly and then we found out that we could get a really great interest rate to allow us to build a brand new house in a great neighborhood in the town we really wanted to live in. Not only that, but our realtor had a house that we could rent for just a few months while we waited for our house to be built. Things were really falling into place. It must be God’s plan, right? To finally get a baby, and a new house and a new life with my new husband and step-son...it must be my master plan/destiny, right? Wrong.

Let me add that over the years with my previous husband, each and every time I wasn’t pregnant when something significant happened in our lives I always used the line, “well I guess that’s why God hasn’t let me get pregnant yet.” It always made sense. And then I would tell myself that I didn’t get pregnant because God knew that we would divorce. However, if we’d had a child I don’t know that our marriage would have dissolved. It’s one of the biggest questions I have. He now has 3 children so it must have been his plan, right? To learn from our marriage and then to move on and have kids with someone that is fertile must have been his destiny, right? I don’t know.

Do we have a destiny? Is there a master plan? I always thought so. I am guilty of using the phrases, “what is meant to be will be” and “everything happens for a reason”. I don’t know what to believe now. God might have a plan for all of us but we, as humans, have plans of our own. We were given free will, the ability to make choices. We make wrong choices throughout our lives. Sometimes no matter how hard we pray and ask for guidance, we make a wrong choice. Did God know we would make a wrong choice? Was that wrong choice in our plan all along? If so, then it really wasn’t wrong was it? God told Eve not to eat the forbidden fruit. And pardon my ignorance...did He know she would anyway? She made the choice to go against God’s wishes and because of that, all of humanity was punished...sin was introduced into the perfect world.

Back to me...I’ve often wondered what my plan in life is/was. I wonder if I have made too many choices that have completely altered the way things were supposed to be. I made the choice of staying with my mom when I was 16 and my dad made the choice of letting me. Things would have been very different if I had not made the request or if he had said no. It’s things like that that have led me here today.

I started thinking about those sorts of things after our loss from our IVF in April. I chose to do IVF. I want a baby so badly that I chose to try again. Aren’t we supposed to learn from past mistakes as to not repeat them in the future? Since the first one failed I wonder why I though God would let the second one work. I had to try, though. I felt it was the right thing to do. And when I think back to how calm and serene I was through most of the process, I wonder why I was so calm. I think it was because I knew it would work. Somewhere deep inside, I had come to terms with the fact that it would work. I was ready for whatever emotions came my way. I had learned how to deal with it from our past attempt. I felt confident that it would turn out differently than last time. I was right, to a degree.

God allowed me to get pregnant. And then He allowed me lose that baby very early. I think it was a form of punishment. Before anyone tells me that God doesn’t punish people like that, hear me out. I used to think that way, too, until my loss. When women are born they are born with as many eggs as they will ever have. I was born with fewer than average eggs. I was also born with bad eggs. I have been TTC since I was 24 years old. My eggs were just as bad then as they are now. So obviously, God’s plan/my destiny/my fate has always been for me not to get pregnant. God created me and he created my eggs. He never intended for me to get pregnant. And what do I do? I keep going to doctors to try and rectify the situation instead of just learning from my past. If we had not tried again I would not have this heavy hurt of a lost baby in my heart. I would not sit here in sadness every day thinking about how far along I should be and what milestone I should be reaching each week.

When I think about how desperately I wish we had money for donor eggs I have to stop myself. What makes me think that donor eggs are “in my plan”? Why would God want me to go ahead and seek more medical intervention? He has already proven to me that He never intended for me to have a child. Why would I choose to try something like that? Honestly, if we had the money, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’m driven by something else that I can’t put into words (maybe it’s greed or selfishness?). If I did donor eggs and God decided that he was angry enough at me for going through with more treatments, what would my next punishment be? I shudder at the thought of His power. I am, after all, a God fearing woman.

It’s all so confusing. And don’t get me wrong...I do not think that donor eggs are against God’s wishes. In my opinion, God creates all life and it’s up to Him if that life turns into a baby. And if a woman uses donor eggs and has a baby...I’m very happy for (and a bit jealous of) them. I’m just in spiritual turmoil right now. I’m questioning all my decisions with regards to reproduction lately. I’m also still trying to figure out if there is any way possible to pay for the donor egg program. I’m a walking contradiction. It’s not easy living in my head these days.

Happiness Is...

- Getting my hair cut and really liking it for the first time in almost 2 years. I had been going to the same lady for about 7 or 8 years and then she moved away. She did my highlights and my cuts and she knew what I liked and how to do it. Since she left I’ve had a really hard time finding someone that can do it the way I want...not the way *they* think it will look best. The people at work that always notice when I get my hair cut didn’t have a clue that I even got it cut. A sure sign of a fine job. Yay!!


- Yummy homemade banana bread. I received a recipe from a gal at work through one of those recipe exchange chain e-mails. I had never made banana bread before so I thought I’d try it. Sunday was the third time I have used her recipe. It’s so good and it makes a great snack. I put in a little more flour than the recipe calls for because if the bread is too moist it makes my stomach turn.

- Going back to the gym. I haven’t been to the gym (at work we have a very small fitness center) on consecutive days in about 4 months or so. I have decided to make a real effort to get in there at least 3 days a week on my lunch break. Going there at lunch keeps me out of the heat, I get a better workout than walking outside and it stops me from making a pit stop at McD’s or the frozen yogurt place or any other place I find myself stopping while I’m out walking. I’d like to be a little more bathing suite ready when our vacation gets here and this is a good start.

- Steamed asparagus. I bought a little steamer a while back and have used it for rice (it cooks it perfectly!!), broccoli and asparagus. It cooks the asparagus to the perfect tenderness. I don’t like it crispy and I don’t like it mushy (like out of the can). We usually have it when we have salmon. This past weekend we had it with crunchy chicken tenders....it was still yummy.

- A huge thunderstorm last night. The lightning lit up the sky for about an hour and the thunder was almost continuous. We got a little rain and a little wind but nothing too major. I love a good summer thunderstorm...as long as there are no tornadoes attached. I’m terrified of tornadoes. *shiver*

Why?

There are many times during the TTC process that we Infertiles ask the question “why?”


Why is it taking so long?
Why do I have endo?
Why do I have PCOS?
Why are my tubes blocked?
Why does my husband not have any sperm?
Why do I not ovulate?
Why do I keep losing babies?
Why? Why? Why?

The list just goes on and on for most of us. The “why?” that I’m asking today is this: Why do I still think there is a chance I could get pregnant?

I saw ewcm yesterday and put a plan into action to seduce my husband. Surprisingly I succeeded in doing just that. I’m only on CD9 today. The sighting of the ewcm means that ovulation will be today or tomorrow. I’m not peeing on any sticks or strips to know for sure. Being this early in my cycle I know that if there is an egg in the follicle that it’s most likely not mature. On the off chance that it is mature I’m sure it’s not normal. My track record speaks for itself. So again I have to ask myself, why?

Why do I keep doing this to myself?

I had a dream last night that I was at a neighbor’s party. It was the neighbor that is 41 and has stated that she never wants kids. It’s my opinion that she tried and failed but I have yet to ask her about it. I could be wrong but that is the feeling I get from her. Anyway...back to my dream. She was sharing her eggs with me. No, not her ovarian eggs, actual eggs that you would crack open and cook. Someone told me that the eggs wouldn’t be any good, that they’d be messed up. I assured them that the eggs would be fine. It was a half carton of eggs which is how I usually buy them. As I opened the carton, I inspected each and every one of the eggs. And wouldn’t you know that every single egg was cracked and oozing? I was so very disappointed.

Isn’t it amazing how our minds can work our life into some bizarre dream? I know my eggs are all crap, pretty much just like the ones in my dream. However, the ones in my dream weren’t mine. They were given to me and they were still bad. They were meant to replace my own but I couldn’t use them either. That’s pretty much how I feel. That even if I could afford donor eggs, I still would not end up with a baby. But again, why? Why am I even thinking about donor eggs?

Why am I holding on to this hope? It’s torture on most days. I hate this feeling of being defeated and at the end of my rope. Sometimes the good guy doesn’t win. All too often the villain gets the prize while the deserving champion sits on the sidelines knowing there is nothing that can change the outcome. Why? Why does it have to be this way?

I wish I knew. One of these days I’ll stop asking “why”. I’m sure it won’t be because I have an answer...I’ll just eventually grow tired of asking. Or maybe I’ll learn to just accept things for what they are and I won’t care “why”. I wish I were in that place now.

Happiness Is...

- Spending 4 days off work with my honey. We didn’t do much but we hung out together, ran a few errands, did some cleaning, went to a cookout, set off some fireworks with the Little Guy, slept in and just enjoyed each other. We didn’t seem to get on each other’s nerves much at all. :-)


- Having both my cats on my lap at once. It has never happened before and I don’t know if it will happen again, but wow. First, Smokey was on my lap like usual. Then all of a sudden, Gizmo jumped up on the couch and laid down on me. He was half on my mid-section and half on the couch. I told BJ to hurry up and snap a picture with his phone. Gizmo rarely comes up on the couch when there is more than one of us sitting there, let alone when Smokey is laying with me. It didn’t last but maybe 2 minutes but I loved it.

- A quick conversation with my mother over the weekend. I haven’t heard from her since my birthday. She’s “ok”, whatever that means in her world. She’s alive and seems to be ok, and I’m thankful for that.

- Watching Rocky movies over the weekend. We watched the end of Rocky IV, Rocky V, Rocky, Rocky II and Rocky III...in that order. They were playing the movies back to back on AMC. I haven’t seen those movies in YEARS and didn’t remember a lot of them so it was like watching them for the first time. When Rocky IV came on again I wanted to watch it from the beginning because I couldn’t remember how he lost his fortune (BJ told me but I wanted to SEE it) but BJ said he just couldn’t sit through one more movie. Poor guy.

- A new word game on my phone. I downloaded Word Whirl (I think that’s it) and have been playing it like crazy. It’s like my Kindle game of Every Word but it plays “faster”. I love word games and this is just the game for me. Plus, it was free!

Filler

Before I move on with my story I want to fill in a few blanks. There are some things that I forgot to mention before that have popped into my head since writing my last entry.


I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about my sister. I love her very much and I always have. There has just been a major disconnect with us from a very early age. It sucks that we didn’t grow up together but it’s probably a good thing at the same time. Well, considering how each of us was raised I’d say it’s a very good thing we didn’t grow up together.

There are plenty of good memories that I have of my mother and my siblings that should not be glossed over. Several summers in a row my mother would either make or buy us (my sister and me) a matching outfit to wear. It was fun and cute and we took pictures. My mother made each of us kids a small pillow with our initials on it. I slept with mine for years...cried myself to sleep on it countless times because I missed my mother so much. We would watch wrestling Saturday mornings and all cheer and then we’d have our own wrestling matches in the living room. It was great fun. My mother took me to my first live action wrestling show when I was about 7 or 8 and I got to see Brett the Hitman Hart (our all-time favorite) in person. She also took me to see George Michael in concert (my very first concert) when I was 11 (I think). My sister and I would play with all of her My Little Ponies. She had them all and the castle that they lived in, too. I played Star Wars and MASH with my brother’s action figures. My favorite MASH character was Clinger. My mom and I used to stay up really late and watch Beretta on late night TV. We’d sing the theme song together. Because of her, I started watching Days of our Lives and General Hospital. I wanted to name my daughter Kayla after my favorite character. We used to sit in the kitchen and listen to the Oldies radio station and call in at lunch time and make requests. My mom’s favorite song was Cathy’s Clown...that’s her name and her mother used to sing that song to her. The other song we would request all the time was Funny Face...a nickname her mother gave her. We went to a local amusement park and rode the roller coaster together 10 times in a row...in the front seat! We also rode the Scrambler a bunch of times and just laughed and had a great time. We had one of those small pools in our backyard and we used to swim all the time. My mom would get in with us and she’d take turns dunking each of us. She’d hold us like babies and then tell us to “say goodbye!” and that was our clue to hold our nose and then she’d dunk us. It was great fun, I tell ya. My mom was a blast.

I was always very protective of my siblings, especially my older brother. He was scrawny and he’d get picked on by the neighborhood kids. He also had (and still does) a mouth that wrote checks his ass couldn’t cash. That’s when I had to step in. It seemed like I was always standing up for him in some fashion. He was a wimp and he still is. He talks big but can’t back any of it up. I could probably still kick his butt. There was one instance when I was about 8 or 9 and he was outside playing across the street with Joey. Our windows were open (my mom didn’t like running the AC) and I looked out and saw him and Joey in Joey’s front yard. Joey was on top of my brother and they were wrestling around. I yelled out the window for him to “get off my brother” but he obviously didn’t hear me or he didn’t care because he didn’t yield. My hair was in pig-tails and it was a rare instance that I was wearing a dress. I proceeded to run down the stairs, across the street and knocked Joey off my brother. Tony swears I clotheslined Joey and if there is ever a movie made about my life I will definitely write that in for dramatic effect. However, I just remember knocking him over. I remember a few times jumping in between my brother and one neighborhood boy or another. I was smaller than them but my natural instincts were to protect at any cost. In many ways I wish I could have protected my mom.

My mom has a cousin named Dave. She said he’s her cousin, anyway. I’m not sure how they are related. He was married to a woman named Jeannie. He was a biker dude in every sense of the word. He was big and burley, had crazy hair and a beard and tattoos. Jeannie was his biker babe. She was tall, blonde, rough around the edges and had her share of tattoos, too. At one point they were living in a trailer that was parked next to our house. I think I was 9 at the time. We called him Uncle Dave even though he was not our uncle. I didn’t like him very much. He made me uncomfortable, squeamish. The most vivid memory I have of him still haunts me to this day. My mom and I were cuddled in a chair watching TV. My red, white and blue afghan (my grandmother made it for me since I was born in 1976, the Bicentennial) was covering us. Uncle Dave was sitting in a chair across from us. I had closed my eyes because I was getting pretty tired but I wasn’t asleep yet. They were talking but I don’t remember what they were saying. I opened my eyes just in time to see Uncle Dave using his hands to express what he wanted from my mother. One hand was in an “o” shape and he was using his index finger of his other hand to go in and out of the “o”. I think we can all figure that one out. He looked alarmed that I had opened my eyes and slowly lowered his hands. I closed my eyes again and pretended that I didn’t see anything as I heard my mom say, “No, we did it last night”. I don’t remember anything else that was said. I just remember feeling very confused about what I had just witnessed. It was obvious that my mom didn’t want to proceed but I got the feeling that she was required to do so anyway. I was right. I found out when I was 16 that he repeatedly forced her to do those things under the threat of telling my step-dad and other blackmail threats. I feel so bad for my mother and I wish that I could have protected her from this monster. I’m sure she was scared of him, too. I do not believe that this was something she was doing willingly. He used to beat his wife and I’m pretty sure he was “rough” on my mom, too. I vaguely remember her having to wear long sleeves in the summer to hide bruises on her arms. It makes my heart ache to think about what she went through. And I really believe that all of these things that happened to her along the way are the reasons why she is the way she is. There was no one to protect her, to stand up for her. It really is a tragedy what happened to her. I was so glad the next summer when I came to visit and Uncle Dave was gone. I never knew the whole story (or maybe I have just forgotten it) of how his and his wife’s departure came about. I don’t care to know.

Other fond memories I have of my mother are Monday nights. Monday night was bowling night. We’d have pizza for dinner at home and then my mom would change into her bowling outfit. She wore a nice blouse and a denim mini skort. She had a small blue bowling brace that she wore on her right hand. We loaded into the station wagon and off we went. We each got some money for the snack bar and the pinball machines. I remember watching my mom bowl and how much fun she seemed to be having. She took it very seriously as she walked up the lane. She had the same stance each and every time. I remember thinking about how pretty she was and how I wanted to be like her when I grew up. I’m glad that didn’t really happen but at the time she was the best thing since sliced bread. She used to collect key chains. She had about 20 or more hanging off her keys. She could always find her keys in her purse, that’s for sure. She drove barefoot. As soon as we got in the car (a big Ford station wagon) she’d kick off her sandals and drive. She could barely see over the steering wheel. She bought me a pair of Dr. Scholl’s sandals that I loved...and of course they matched hers so that made them that much more appealing. I idolized her to say the least. She was my mother and I barely got to see her so I cherished all the time I had with her. When it would come time to leave I’d be hysterical. We would say, “No tears” but we always failed at that. We were both a blubbering mess by the time I got on the plane to leave. People on the plane always felt so sorry for me. I would sit there and cry...almost the whole flight. Back then, it was ok for the cockpit door to open so the flight attendants would take me up to see the captain to try and make me feel better. I would get little plastic wings to pin to my shirt and a deck of cards. And then I would cry some more. I just wanted my mom.

Background - Just over 2000 words...settle in.

I’m going to try and be as specific as I can without completely confusing everyone when I begin to tell the story of my mom’s side of the family. There’s so much to tell and I feel like the background is very important before I get into the wedding details. I’ll try to be brief but once I get going you know how I can ramble. I’m going to change most of the names but since I’m pretty certain that no one knows this blog exists other names will remain intact. Basically so I don’t get confused. Here goes...


My mom got married at the age of 16 to a man that was quite a bit older than her. She had dropped out of school in the 9th grade. She said that it was because she wanted out of the house and saw this as her only option. The man she married was Gary. My maternal grandmother was on her second marriage and my mom was basically raised by her grandparents. My mother’s father was in prison because he raped her when she was 7 years old. I believe this to be the catalyst for about 90% of the messed up-ness of my mother’s life.

According to my mother (the more I write the more you will understand why I don’t take her word at face value) when she went to the doctor to get put on birth control (within several weeks of the wedding) she was already pregnant. At some point late in her pregnancy, her mother got pregnant. So now you have mother and daughter pregnant at the same time. Sounds like a winning combination, doesn’t it? My mother also has a younger brother (I’m not sure by how much) and his name is Joe. My mother claims to have been pregnant with twins. I say “claims” because several years ago I found Tony’s birth certificate and it states that he was a single birth. She says that the twin died right after or just before delivery. The delivery was an emergency c-section...I don’t know why or what happened to cause this but my brother was about 2 months early. I guess it’s possible the hospital did not list him as a twin because the other baby did not make it. I also don’t know why my mother would lie but it would not surprise me in the least. My grandmother had a baby girl and her name was Vicky.

My mom soon left Gary...claims she never loved him but just saw him as her “out”. I’m not sure how long it took but she ended up with some guy named Andy and then not long after that she met my dad. I don’t know how long they were together before she was knocked up with me but I don’t think it was very long. My dad was in the military and had to leave to go serve his solo overseas station for a year. I was 6 months old when they got married. He went to Turkey and left my mom, me and Tony behind. Wouldn’t you know that the guy that lived above us in our apartment killed his wife (so my mom says) and set the place on fire? Enter Tom, the guy my mom cheated on my dad with. He was one of the cops that responded to the call. Apparently he spent a lot of time at our place and with us because my mom says I called him “daddy” before I called my own father that. To top everything off, Tom was married with 3 boys. It just keeps getting better, right? Enter the chants of Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!

My dad comes home from Turkey and finds out that my mom has been cheating on him. I never knew how he found out until I stumbled upon the divorce papers when I was about 11. Tom had his clothes or underwear or something hanging up in OUR bathroom!!! Commence the divorce and fight for custody. While I was growing up my mom gave me the same song and dance....she wanted to keep me but her terrible brother got up on the stand and told all sorts of lies about how she was an unfit mother. She proceeded to tell me that my dad then went to our daycare center and took me without permission and she had no idea where I was or how to find me. As I grew up I slowly learned the truth. I’m not sure about my dad kidnapping me but there was a hearing and I think her brother might have testified against her but that is neither here nor there. When I was a teenager my dad told me that he fought to get my brother from her, too. He lost because he was not the boy’s biological father. And back in 1978-79 when all of this was taking place, the judge must have had some pretty good evidence that I’d be better off with my single father than with my mother and her new man to give him full custody while my mother only got visitation. Since my dad was military and expected to move quite a bit my parents came to a conclusion that I would spend a month in the summer with her rather than going by the schedule the judge set up. I could write a small novel regarding the back and forth years of my life but that will be saved for another time.

Tom divorced his wife to be with my mother....or his wife found out he was cheating so she divorced him, not sure which. My mother and he eventually got married (when my sister was 2 months old) and began their lives together. My sister was born on Elvis’s birthday. My maternal grandmother swears that my mother did this on purpose because my mother’s grandmother was an Elvis fanatic. Whatever the reason, this was the beginning of me feeling like she was “better” and more loved than me. My mother had my younger brother, Bob, when my sister was almost 2. So now all 3 of my siblings (born of my mother) are living with her full time and I’m thousands of miles away...feeling left out. Mind you, I had a great family that I was with but as a kid you perceive things differently.

I began to resent the fact that my siblings got to live with my mother and receive her love and attention. However, when I came to visit in the summers I was given somewhat of a celebrity status. I was the kid that she toted around to “show off” to everyone. When I was little I didn’t understand this but as I got older I hated it. I always felt like the outsider. I spent 11 months out of the year away from these people so I had to reform relationships with them. It wasn’t as hard with my older brother because he remembered me a lot more than my younger siblings. The younger two were much harder to connect with as they barely remembered me from visit to visit. We had such fun in the summers that I didn’t want to leave. I got to eat pretty much whatever I wanted, we swam, we played kickball, we stayed up late, we got ice cream every night, we had a ball. My mom was the coolest person EVER. Boy did I have a lot to learn.

As I and my sister aged I began to really feel inferior to her. She had long pretty hair, she was so smart for her age, she spoke so clearly for her age, she was so pretty...even her name means beautiful. There is one instance burned in my brain that really solidified things for me. We were at my step-father’s company picnic and my mother had taken me and my sister to change from our bathing suits to our regular clothes as we were getting ready to leave. Two teenage girls came in the bathroom and were talking to my mom. They said, “Oh, she’s so pretty!” and then turned directly at me and said, “But not that one.” Ouch. I was probably only 8 or 9 but I remember it like it was yesterday. It’s not like I was never told that I was cute or pretty as a kid, but it’s the times that I was compared to (and felt inferior to) my sister that have stayed with me.

The summer that I was 10 or 11 my mom was preparing for her hysterectomy surgery. She was bleeding a lot and it was decided that her uterus had to go. I was given the task of caring for my younger siblings and making the coffee in the morning and packing my step-father’s lunch. I remember being told how to give my sister a bath and how to wash her beautiful hair and make sure I brushed it just right. Not long before her surgery she was in one of her moods and all us kids were playing in the living room. She came out of her room and took Bob by the hand (he was 3?) and said, “c’mon Bob, let’s go play with this loaded gun I found.” She walked into her room and shut the door. We didn’t take her seriously of course, but it was still not something we needed to hear or be exposed to.

When I was 12 and came to visit my mom I found out that she had “adopted” a 17-year-old girl named Jolie. They met in my mom’s GED class. This girl was a mess but it was not known for a few years just how much of a mess but that’s not something I want to get into. This girl was like my mom’s best friend. They did everything together...including trying to find someone for my mom to have an affair with. They picked someone that was married and had a 1-year-old little girl. My mom was friends with his wife. My mom actually arranged for us to be out of the house for when he came over during the day. He wasn’t there long and I overheard my mom and Jolie talking about it later. Apparently he couldn’t go through with it and my mom was pissed. I was beginning to understand my mother a little and since I didn’t like what I was learning, I chose to just ignore the bad and focus on the good. I found out years later that Jolie was the girl my older brother lost his virginity to (at 14 or 15). She also tried to hook up with the teenage boy down the street but he couldn’t go through with it because she put too much pressure on him and his performance. AND I heard a rumor that she slept with my oldest step-brother (Tom’s oldest son) and got pregnant but didn’t tell him he’s the father. Again, I hear the chants...Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!

Since the hook up with that guy didn’t work, my mom moved onto someone else. She denies it, but my eyes did not deceive me. I was walking down the street and I saw her in the foyer at one of my friend’s house. She was leaning very flirtily against the wall...and then leaning into a kiss with the man standing there with her...my friend’s dad. I couldn’t believe it. Especially when she denied it right to my face. I was 12, who was I to argue with her? I didn’t know what to do so I kept it to myself. Not the smartest but I didn’t want to be the one breaking up the family.

That was the summer she met Billy. Remember that name. He’s very important to the entire history (dysfunction) of this side of the family. He lived next door with his father, step-mother, half-brother and half-sister. He was in his early to mid-20’s. Tony asked if he could go to the store with him and my mother agreed, even though she had just met him. I remember them driving away in a black car. After that summer nothing else would ever be the same.

Catching Up

I’ve been really busy this past week and I have slacked on writing and commenting. I don’t like to get behind...especially on my reading but I’m slowly getting caught up.


I was off Thursday and Friday in preparation for Father’s Day, the LG’s birthday, my SIL’s surprise birthday party and my sister’s wedding. The wedding will be a post all to itself as there is lots to get into about that side of my family.

I had to run around like a crazy person on Thursday morning to take the LG shopping for Father’s day and then get him back to his daycare so that he could go swimming with the other kids. I also had to find him something suitable to wear to the wedding. After that, I had to run around like crazy getting the LG’s gifts and order the balloons for my SIL’s party that night. I had enough time to get all the gifts unloaded from my truck, wrap the FD presents (more on that in a minute) and run back to the store to pick up the balloons and other trinkets that I purchased for the party. She turned 40 so it was a big deal. I then had to run over to the restaurant and help my BIL decorate and get the room ready. Then it was home for just over an hour and then change my clothes and head back to the restaurant for dinner. Whew! I was wiped out by the time we got home that night.

Friday morning was filled with packing for the trip to PA for the wedding and trying to get everything ready and make sure I had everything...dress, shoes, flowers, etc. Trying not to be too much of a panic machine (as I often am when trying to get 3 people ready to go on a trip) as that only adds stress and pisses BJ off. HE’S not the one running around packing 100 different things and the cooler and giving the cats extra food and water and unplugging things and so on and so forth. He just drinks his coffee and picks out his clothes. I hate last minute packing but have learned that with my husband, it’s all he knows.

We drove home after the reception (it actually wasn’t over yet but we had a long drive ahead of us) and didn’t get home until 10:45. We threw everything in the foyer and sat on the couch for a little while before all 3 of us headed to bed. We slept entirely too late on Sunday morning and just felt blah the whole day. We had a present opening bonanza with the LG opening his birthday gifts and BJ opening his FD gifts. I found some really cool camo wrapping paper but of course didn’t realize that the steamer and steamer pot were too much for the little roll of paper. As I was wrapping I had to go down to the basement and get another roll of regular paper. Lo and behold, that roll was almost finished, too! So BJ ended up with 3 different papers wrapping one of his boxes. Ha ha! It was rather comical on Sunday but not so much while I was rushing around on Thursday to get everything wrapped.

The LG’s mom came to get him around 2:00 and then BJ and I went in search of some crabs to steam for dinner. We steamed the crabs (tried to burn them by not getting them in the pot quickly enough and wasting the liquid/steam) and had them and pasta salad for dinner. It was a nice relaxing evening after so much running and rushing around over the past 4 days.

I then came back to work with 77 e-mails waiting for me to read. I have my work e-mail on my iPhone but there wasn’t much I could do with most of them from my phone so they all had to wait until Monday. I’m just now beginning to catch my breath from all of it.

I will get my post up about my sister’s wedding in the next day or so as it will be long. I will try to simplify everything as much as possible but there’s so much to say and to “let out” that it might actually end up being 2 posts. Some of it will come off like an episode of Jerry Springer, but hey, what can you do? You don’t pick your family, right? And you love them anyway...most of the time.  :-)

Sharing

I think I have mentioned this before but just in case anyone is wondering, I do not share well. What’s mine is pretty much mine and I don’t like to give it up...in any way shape or form. This does not include things like trying my dinner at a restaurant, sharing the covers or sharing a bottle of water with my husband. It’s more on a larger scale (or at least that is what I tell myself). Things like the candy in MY Easter basket is mine, right? Same goes with any present that I was given...it’s MINE. It sounds terrible and I’ve gotten better but I still don’t like to share. I hate it when someone sits at my desk on a day when I’m out; things like that.


When I was growing up I had a little brother that was 8 years younger than me. I think this is where my sharing issue comes from. I didn’t want him in my room because he would touch my stuff and it would end up broken or messed up or something. Not that I didn’t love my little brother or like to be around him, he was a toddler and he messed things up and I didn’t like it. My last post let you know how I love my things and how I like to take care of them and be careful with them. My little brother...not so much. I can almost always tell when something of mine has been moved; whether it’s on my desk at work or somewhere at home...If it’s not where I left it or where I think it should be, look out. I am going somewhere with this, thank you for your patience.

It’s so hard to share the Little Guy. I know I’ve been over this 100 times but sometimes the sharing really gets to me. He played in the Little League championship game last night (against his cousin) and they won! It was great. During the last few games of the season and through the playoffs (last night was game 3 of the playoffs) I have been sitting with another mom (the coach’s wife) and chatting and getting to know her better. I really like her. She’s my age, she’s a school nurse and she doesn’t take any crap from her kids or anyone else’s kids. She’s very into sports and that is enough for me to like her right there. We have been stressing together and cheering together and just basically being the CMS (Crazy Mom Section) at these last few games. Before sitting with her I would sit either by myself behind the backstop (I like to see if the pitches are really strikes :-) ) or with Other Woman (Little Guy’s mom). It’s been fine...until I started sitting with Jenny (Coach’s wife). She makes the games more fun because I have someone that is really paying attention with me and we are trying to calm each other’s nerves when one of our boys are either pitching or up to bat (she has 2 boys on the team).

At last night’s game, Other Woman sat with us. Not a big deal. The louder we all could be the better...the more exciting the game would be. We even had signs that another parent printed up. The LG hit a double off his cousin and subsequently got 2 RBI’s...I went nuts! He hasn’t had a great hit in quite a few games and he was due. The chatting and cheering continued and then the game was over. It was OW’s night to have the LG and the team was going to get ice cream afterward. BJ was starving and so was I as there is no time for dinner until after the game so I hadn’t eaten since lunch and it was almost 8:00. OW took LG to join the team. I was disappointed but it was fine. Until this morning.

I received an e-mail from OW asking for Jenny’s e-mail address. They got to talking at the ice cream place and meant to exchange addresses but forgot. I know this sounds petty and totally like Jr. High, but dammit, can’t I even have a “mom” friend without having to share her, too? I am not friends with any of the LG’s friends’ mothers and this was my chance, my IN...And now it’s time for OW to swoop in and take it from me. She knows a lot of the parents because she is able to go to the functions at the school during the day and she goes to his classroom for special events. She should, she’s his mother. Here was my chance...Jenny lives in our neighborhood so she’s just up the street...it was perfect. I could have a “mom” friend and we could get the boys together and hang out every now and then. Like I said, I know it’s petty and pathetic. I’m a grown up and I should stop acting so childish, but I can’t help it. I actually almost started crying when I read her request this morning. Can’t I just have anything that is just mine anymore? Do I have to share everything that deals with the LG? And now for the most childish statement out there...It’s just not fair.

I’m as petty as they get today and I just don’t care.

A Few of my Favorite Things

I’m not much of a material girl, so to speak, but I do have certain things in my life that I really love. Some of these things are luxuries to many people which is a fact not lost on me. I am very fortunate to be able to have the things I have. I’ve always been the type to take pride in ownership. That is something I’m trying to teach the LG. I have listed some of my prize possessions below. Maybe you will learn a little about me after reading the list.


- My new vacuum. It’s a Eureka Smart Air (or something like that). Let me tell you...if you have pets (or even people) in your house you need to get this vacuum. I had a “pet hair” vacuum before and it’s nothing compared to this beauty. I need to empty it after just vacuuming the office and the foyer. And lest you think I’m just exaggerating, I vacuum the entire first floor once a week. The box claimed to suck better than the Dyson and even if it doesn’t, it does an amazing job. It was also over $200 cheaper than the Dyson. I cringe at the thought of what my old vacuum left behind.

- My DVR. I’ve mentioned it here several times in Happiness posts. I love the flexibility it grants us for our TV watching. We have some shows that can be cut down to 35 minutes so we tape them and start watching something trivial on HGTV or something and then go back to the show we are taping about half way through and rewind it. It’s the greatest way to watch TV. And if you watch sports, like I do, and the announcers don’t go back and show you a play that you want to see, just rewind that sucker till your heart’s content.

- My Crocs. I have 2 pair. One pair I’ve had since the Spring of 2007. They are old and really need a good cleaning but they are the most comfortable shoes I have ever owned. I wear them all Summer long and into the Fall. My other pair were purchased last Summer. They are a little more dressy in appearance so I feel better wearing them to work. They are black and gray and have a heel. So comfy...it’s like walking on a marshmallow. Totally worth the money. I am not a good shoe shopper so to find these wonderful shoes that I can wear for almost half the year is really a good thing.

- My Kindle. I’ve raved about it before on my blog but it really is one of my favorite things. I’ve had it a year and a half and I’ve read close to 40 books. I have a lot of time to read during my long commute on the bus and so I can get through a book pretty quickly. The Kindle is so light and easy to hold with one hand. I read fiction novels and I’ll get more into my reading habits another time, but having the Kindle has been a wonderful thing. It was a very thoughtful Christmas gift from my husband 2 Christmases ago.

- My iPhone. Yes, I’m a techie kind of gal. Another Christmas gift from my husband (this past year). I don’t have a lot of apps on my phone but I really use the ones I have. I have several words with friends (scrabble) games going (including one with the LG), the weather, an air horn, the NHL app, all the Angry Birds games, a talking robot (he cracks me up), google reader and a few more. This is another device that keeps me entertained during my commuting. I love the camera this phone has since I’m a picture taker by nature. And the fact that I can post any picture that I take to FB within mere minutes is awesome in my world. I also love the built in iPod that it has...love having music with me all the time. In the winter, when I take hot baths, I just put it on shuffle and set it on the counter. It makes soaking in the tub not so boring.

The Power of Music

Sometimes song lyrics can really stick with me. There are some songs that make me think of certain situations I’ve been in or of a certain time in my life. I have some very vivid memories of songs and/or videos from my youth. I can tell you all about the first time I heard Sweet Child O’ Mine by GNR. I can tell you the first time I heard Please Don’t Go Girl by the New Kids (I was a blockhead for a while). I can tell you what scene a song played during in some movies...especially my all-time favorite movie, Dirty Dancing. Some songs make me very happy to hear and others make me cry because they bring up memories of something painful like a lost loved one or a broken heart.


I heard a Kenny Chesney song on the radio the other day that I haven’t heard in a long time. It’s a song that used to make me tear up because it reminded me of my dad and our relationship and it would make me miss him (he’s still alive, just lives far away from me). That song made me tear up for a much different reason the other day. The song is There Goes My Life. If you haven’t heard it, it’s about a young man that gets his girlfriend/wife pregnant when they aren’t really ready. At different stages of her growing up he says the lines that go something like this:

There goes my life.
There goes my future, my everything.
Might as well kiss it all good-bye.
There goes my life.......

I used to think of my dad during that song and how he might have felt when he found out my mom was knocked up with me and then about how he fought for me when they split and then about how he might have felt when I eventually moved out to live with my mom. It’s a very touching song when thought of like that.

Now all I can think about is that chorus and how it sums up how I’m feeling now...about myself and my own future. It sucks to feel like this. I don’t want to feel like my future is over. I have so much life yet to live (knock on wood) and I don’t want to spend it depressed and sad about what I don’t have. I know I’ll get to a point where I will stop dwelling on our loss and I’ll really be able to focus on the future, I just wish I were at that point now. I must think of how much I want to be pregnant at least 20 times a day. I really need something else to focus on but I’m finding it difficult to be interested in much of anything.

I’m doing better for the most part, I really am. It might not seem like it by this post but each day brings me an inch or so closer to acceptance. I have my down moments that can be triggered by anything as simple as a country song to the more blatant things like hearing the neighbor’s 2 month old crying while I’m picking weeds out of my flower bed.

Anyway, I just wanted to come here and let out a little emotion and some of the thoughts inside this crazy head of mine. Thank you all for your understanding and encouraging words. You never fail to make me feel better and “ok” about myself. And I promise that if I feel like I’m slipping away or falling down too far I will seek some help, either with a therapist/counselor or the mighty powerful antidepressant.

Oh, and for anyone keeping track...CD1 was Sunday, right on time. I hate how predictable AF can be when my ovaries have nothing good to give me.

Lost

Isn’t it ironic how positive we can sometimes be when leaving comments on other people’s blogs and then turn right around and fill our own pages with buckets of sadness, negativity and depression? Well, that’s what I’m about to do. I left a comment earlier today on a blog stating that I try not to be a “downer” on my own blog too much...blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I’m a hypocrite.


I feel so totally lost right now. I’m not lost in Limboland because that would mean that I’m in between certain situations or events. There’s no limbo involved in deciding (being forced) to stop TTC. It’s pretty final. And it pretty much sucks ass.

I don’t know how to be the woman that is not TTC. I’ll admit that there have been periods of time that I didn’t chart or temp or use opk’s, but I always paid attention to my CM and counted the days to when I thought ovulation would happen and I tried to plan our sex life around those times. I didn’t look at my fertility calendar until earlier this week to figure out when my period would be starting. I never felt myself ovulate so I have no idea where things are in my cycle right now. All of that feels foreign to me...not knowing when I ovulate? Yeah, right. I can usually give you the time of day.

I have done a little bit of research into government trials regarding IVF. I don’t even qualify for any of the local programs because I’ve had 2 failed IVF’s (the one that was cancelled and the BFN in 2009) and I didn’t/don’t produce a minimum of 8 eggs. Many of the other programs/trials are taking place in countries with names that I can’t even pronounce. Dead end again.

I checked the balance of my 401k yesterday as I have not looked at it in quite a while. I told BJ how much was in it and he said, “cool....take out $X and we can get our pool...or empty it and we can get our pool and a baby.” I looked him dead in the face and said, “Don’t think I haven’t already thought of that.” Then he talked reason into me and said that I’d have no retirement if we did that and that 11 years of saving would be gone. I know he’s right and that our future financial situation is very important to us and I don’t think I’d ever really empty my account....but I’ve thought about it.

I’ve thought about anything and everything I can to get my hands on the money for a donor egg program and I keep coming up empty handed. There’s nothing left to do. There is no stone left to turn over. This is the end of the line.

Each day I get up and I go through the motions. I laugh and I smile but it’s not as genuine as it should be. When BJ and I hug or snuggle all I can think about is how badly I want a baby for us. I don’t dare say it out loud for fear that hearing myself say it will trigger a sob-fest.

Only recently have I begun to enjoy food again. I eat because I have to and because it’s in front of me. I’d say in the last week I’ve really started enjoying certain things again...like really savoring the taste. Mostly though, it’s just food and I just keep putting it in my mouth. I’m sleeping fine and I don’t feel tired during the day, which is always good. However, I still just feel like I’m wandering...with no purpose and no destination. I know I have a future but now I know what will not be in it. I don’t like knowing that we are done. I don’t like knowing that there won’t be a baby. I liked it better when I thought that maybe a miracle could happen on its own since there was no real diagnosis. Now that I have a diagnosis all that miracle stuff has just flown out the window.

I put my best foot forward and I keep on going but I don’t know where I’m going. I’m just lost and wandering right now. I’ve always had a plan for if and when but now that I know that if and when turned into never, I don’t know where to go.

Happiness Is...

- Corn on the cob. I love corn on the cob, especially since we learned how to boil fresh corn ourselves last summer. I’m not much of a culinary expert so when I finally figure out that I can do things on my own in the kitchen, I’m pretty happy about it.


- The heat advisory was lifted. I love the hot weather, but not so hot that it’s hard to breathe outside.

- Our lilies are blooming very nicely...the ones we transplanted from the front of our porch to around our mailbox. They look so nice with the coral colored drift roses that I can’t help but smile at them every time I turn onto our street.

- The LG is having a baseball game “under the lights” tomorrow night. Game time is not until 7:00 and there will be an announcer there to announce the starting lineup (which basically means all the kids will get to hear their name announced over the PA system). We are very excited and need to remember to bring the bug spray.

- My little Gizmo climbing up on the couch 2 different times last night to get loved on and to lay with me for a few minutes. He’s not a snuggle cat, as much as we tried to make him one, so these times when he seeks us out to lay with us on the couch are treasured moments.

- Getting on the scale at my appointment last week and being pleasantly surprised by the fact that I am 2 pounds lighter than the last time I was weighed a few months ago. Smaller scale numbers are enough to make anyone happy.

Knowing What I Know Now

I had a very brief stint at being pregnant...I made it to almost 5 weeks. By most people’s standards they probably wouldn’t even consider that a pregnancy. However, I do.


In the time that I was pregnant I noticed a few things about myself. We, as Infertiles, probably notice more changes in ourselves than the average fertile woman. At least, that has been my experience over the years. We notice every little thing; it’s almost an obsession with us. I’m ok with that. At least I was until I lost my pregnancy.

Knowing what I know now has changed how I pay attention to my body. I’m not happy about it, either. I’m on CD25 today and I can’t even begin to tell you the Hell I am putting myself through.

I now know how fatigued I should be.

I now know how my breasts should feel.

I now know how my nose should react to certain smells.

I now know that I should be grossed out by tomatoes.

I’m searching for these things....constantly. I hate that I’m doing this to myself. I hate that I have had thoughts like:

Sometimes your body needs a pregnancy to kick it into gear.

Sometimes people that suffer a miscarriage get pregnant shortly thereafter.

I’ve read at least 6 (probably more) blog stories where women have either a) given up trying, b) quit trying due to RPL, c) failed an IVF, d) just got done with an IVF consult, e) was about to go to the fertility clinic for the first time or f) moved onto donor eggs only to get pregnant NATURALLY and on their own. These are really inspiring stories and I couldn’t be more amazed at the miracles that have happened. The only problem is that these stories give me hope. As I said yesterday, I want to be done with hope.

I want to just move on and forget (get over) my desire to birth a child and be a mother. I want to stop thinking that “it could happen to me”. The likelihood that it will ever happen is pretty much 0% as evident by my long track record. Unless we win the lottery, there will be no more medical intervention so I can count that out as well.

Knowing what I know now makes it harder on me I think. Not only am I trying to figure out if my boobs are sore because of a pregnancy. They were more than sore; they felt very different on the outside. Every time I bite into a tomato I’m hoping that it makes me want to puke. When we walked into 5 Guys on Sunday I was praying that the smell would make me gag. None of this is happening of course. I’m not experiencing anything, really, not even AF symptoms at this point.

BJ and I had some adult fun last night and he said, “We probably missed your time didn’t we?” And I said, “oh yeah, it’s way past ovulation....but I’m not tracking anything anymore so I don’t know exactly when it happened.” Then he said. “Yeah, I guess there’s no point, right?” And I said, “yeah, no point.”

My brain knows that it’s not going to happen. The really sucky part is that my heart has yet to learn how to let go. One month ago today is when I saw that beautiful 2nd pink line. Even though only 1 month has gone by, it feels like an eternity since I was that happy. I’m definitely better than I was but I have a long way to go. Knowing what I know now is not making it any easier to give up hope. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other and keep remembering all the good things I have in my life and that my life is not over...it’s just different now.

The Latest and Greatest

I hope everyone (those that celebrate) enjoyed their Memorial Day weekend. For the most part, mine was good. We were let out of work early Friday so I was able to head home at 2:00! Saturday morning was filled with running the LG up to get his hair cut, hitting the grocery store and running to the bank. I found such a great deal on corn on the cob...6 ears of corn for .99! We bought 12 since my SIL and her family was coming for dinner. We also bought a seedless watermelon for 2.99...way cool. After the errands were run, I started preparing the dessert (Chex muddy buddies) and then made the Italian Chicken Salad and then had about ½ an hour to chill before they arrived.


Our poor niece broke her elbow Thursday! She’s almost 4 and showed up at the door with a pink cast. It was so sad but she handled herself very well. The visiting and the eating all went very well. Everyone had a great time. We only had one scare when the 2 boys were riding their bikes and carelessly ran right into one another. Thankfully they were wearing helmets but J (the younger nephew at 7) scraped his elbow pretty badly and needed some Aunt TeeJay doctoring. The older nephew ended up spending the night, which we figured would happen. Everyone left at almost 10:00pm! A very long day indeed.

Sunday morning consisted of making chocolate chip puffins (pancake muffins) from this website. They are so good! We ate the whole batch. They make a great sweet snack or you could have them with home fries and eggs as a real breakfast. They are sweet enough to where we really don’t need syrup with them. I haven’t made them without the chocolate chips yet but I might, just to make them more “breakfasty”. We hung out at home for a while and then headed to 5 Guys for lunch and then took the nephew home.

The LG had a book report due that he had to spend the rest of the afternoon and into the evening working on (long story) so BJ and I hung out and I read and we watched some TV while the LG worked. His mom came and picked him up Monday morning to take him swimming at a campground so BJ and I had the day to ourselves. He washed his truck and I tended to our landscaping. It was so darn hot outside. We were only out there for a little over an hour but it was exhausting. We decided to go and get some steamed crabs for lunch at a waterfront restaurant about 30 minutes from our house. The crabs were so good. BJ could eat them every weekend but I have to put my foot down as they are very expensive by the dozen. I told him to invest in our own steamer and we could save hundreds of dollars each summer.

The highlight of the weekend was making our hotel reservations for Myrtle Beach over Labor Day weekend! I finally made BJ focus on it and we nailed down the dates and booked our room. We are taking the LG and we’re staying at the same place that we did when we got married. I’m very excited about this trip. And believe it or not, we got a great deal on the hotel. We are staying in a one bedroom, ocean front condo with a full kitchen for 4 nights and paying just over $600 for it (that included all our taxes and fees and the $15 cancellation insurance)! How cool is that? The LG will miss 2 days of school which was not my first choice, but he should only have 1 night of homework and 2 days of class work to make up. I’m sure it won’t be that bad since it’s a holiday weekend.

Even with all of this going on, I’m still thinking about how I would be (should be) 8 weeks pregnant right now. I’m so glad we booked this trip. I know that I’d rather countdown to a vacation than keep counting up the weeks I should be pregnant. BJ and I were talking last night about something about our house and he was talking about what we’d do if I had a baby and then he said, well unless you have twins. I told him that twins would still stay in the same bedroom together until they were older and he disagreed and said that they would need their own room. And I said that plenty of siblings share rooms growing up and ours could too...unless we had one of each sex. The conversation drifted elsewhere after that, I don’t exactly remember how we got off the topic. In my head I kept wondering why we would even be talking about it....we both know it’s not going to happen, why torture ourselves with these conversations? I guess Hope has not fully left the building. I don’t want to have hope anymore. Hope sucks the life right out of me and I’m sick of it. For some reason, though, it must still be there, even if ever so slightly. This post is long enough but it leaves a good segue for my next post so I’ll just end for now.

I really hope everyone had a chance to celebrate our military heroes this weekend in one way or another and I hope you were able to enjoy your families and your friends as we did ours.

The Annual Exam

After a few reschedules (twice by them and once by me) and a plan to call for an appointment after my positive beta to set up my 10 week appointment (that was never to be), I actually had my annual gynecological exam yesterday.


I decided to see the nurse practitioner whom I’m never met because my regular doctor didn’t have any openings for an annual exam until August. I was way overdue (supposed to go in March) so I decided to skip the regular doctor. I made the right choice. My doctor is very quick and straight to the point and doesn’t really leave a lot of time for chatting or being emotional (like I was). I knew I needed to try something different.

I parked my truck and started heading for the building entrance. I was overcome by a heavy sadness and my eyes filled with tears. I wasn’t supposed to be here for a few more weeks...and I was supposed to be pregnant at my first visit...with a list of questions and forms to fill out and maybe even a chance at hearing a heartbeat. Instead, I’m walking into another appointment with an empty uterus. I thought for sure the waiting room would be filled with pregnant bellies and babies. To my delight, there were only 2 pregnant women and only one of them had a “baby” belly. The other one looked, to put it lightly, like she could have just been plump. She was wearing a maternity top and her boyfriend/husband was with her.

I was called back pretty quickly, which I love. I changed into the sexy white paper vest and hopped up on the table with my cozy white sheet. I’m glad she came in pretty soon after that because the literature in the office was upsetting me...all about babies and pregnancies.

She sat down and started asking me questions. She had never seen me before so I think she wanted to “get to know me” better. When she opened the floor for me to disclose any problems I may be having, I started with the dreaded, “I have infertility issues”.

Doc – I see that (as she flips through papers on her clip board)
Me – we did an IVF in April and it was semi-successful...I miscarried around 5 weeks.

I tried to hold it together as best I could and I think I did a pretty good job. However, with saying that out loud to her I could not stop the tears from coming. They welled up in my eyes as she took notes.

Doc – are you going to be doing any more cycles or treatments?
Me – unable to speak for fear of losing all control and sobbing in front of her...I just shook my head “no”

As she was writing more notes I pulled myself together and said, “It costs too much money.” She agreed that indeed it does.

Then she asked me if I had to have a D&C. Nope
Then she asked me if I knew why it happened. I’m pretty sure I have bad eggs.

I rehashed the cancelled cycle 2 years ago and then the cycle with just 2 embryos and then this cycle with the “not very good” embryos.

She was very soft spoken and she knew I was pretty upset so she kept her questions to a minimum, which I appreciate.

Then the exam started and it was pretty routine. She was pretty gentle and nice about things, which is always good. She wasn’t in a hurry like my doctor usually is so it was nice to feel like she cared about what I was telling her. She said that everything looked and felt good and to let her know if I have any issues with anything. I checked out, made my appointment for next year (with her) and left.

I felt emotionally exhausted when I got home but didn’t really get a chance to dwell on it as we had the LG’s baseball game to go to. They lost in the last inning...the winning run was scored off a pitch by the LG. I felt so bad for him but told him that the reason the kid got the hit was because he (LG) was pitching strikes, right over the plate and that is something to be proud of.

PS - thank you everyone for helping me through my feelings yesterday.  It's hard to love a child so much and give so much of myself to him all the while knowing that his loyalty for all things "mom" are to his real mother (as it should be, of course).  Sometimes it's a lot to take in.  I'm going to savor all of my time with him and just do my best to keep our relationship good and honest and I know everything will turn out fine.