The A-ha Moment

I’ve been wondering why it’s been so hard for me to come here and write.  I used to write a lot.  It’s so helpful to write.  It’s my own version of therapy.  I would venture to say that a lot people that have a “life” blog are better at expressing themselves through writing than any other method of communication.  That statement holds true for me.  I’ve always been this way and I don’t think I will ever change.  When I try to verbalize my feelings I get choked up and overcome with emotion and I tend to not say the whole truth.  When I write, it all comes out.  I spill my emotions onto the page in front of me and then I hit “publish” and I feel better.  I also feel a little trepidation at what people will think of me.  I’m always worried that someone will think badly of me or misunderstand my words and get angry with me.  I guess another personality trait I have is to try and please everyone.

It recently dawned on me that I haven’t been here much because it hurts to come here.  It hurts just as much to try and write through my feelings and thoughts as it does to verbalize them.  I’ve been hiding my emotions for so long that I don’t know how to break through the wall and let myself feel again.  I still have plenty of feelings but I don’t let others see them very often.  Of course I let everyone see me smile and laugh.  No one gets to see me sad, lonely, depressed, anxious, scared, and angry or any of the other emotions that could be construed as negative.  Because after all, what could I possibly have to feel negative about, right?

I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread (and a 5mg Lexapro every morning) and if I open the gates I will fall into a depression like no other I have ever experienced.  I’m scared of being swept away by a flood of pent up pain, anxiety, fear, anger and failure.

I need to write but I’m scared to.  I’m scared to voice the negative and give it life on the outside.  As long as it’s stuffed way down deep it doesn’t have a chance at over taking me.  I have control over what I write even though I don’t feel like there is much more in my life that I can control.  So my rationale is that if I don’t write it then I don’t have to feel it.  What a vicious circle I live in.

I thought I could come here and write about the positive things (because there are a LOT of positive things) that happen(ed) but I feel sort of fake and disingenuous if I don’t write the truth.  So I haven’t really been writing.

I’m also concerned about my daughter’s and my family’s privacy.  I’ve been so open about things here that anyone that knows me IRL would be able to figure out that it’s me.  If they can figure out that’s it’s me then of course they know who Baby Girl is.  I never really thought about how my writing could affect the Little Guy because most of my past life details won’t really affect him.  However, Baby Girl is a different story.  I am her mother and what I write has the potential to affect her in the future.  She is related to the family that I write about and while I don’t care much about the details I’ve shared, she may.

I’m hoping to regain my strength to write and face my emotions.  Until I do, you may still see some time lapsed posts rolling through your blog feed.  Thank you for sticking with me.

Ahem...It's Me...Again

I know, I know.  I keep saying that I’m coming back on a regular basis because I have so much to say and then I disappear for months again.  I’ve been doing some thinking and I have come to realize why I haven’t been back here.

It’s just too hard.

It’s too hard to revisit the pain, depression, anxiety, feelings of inadequacy, uncertainness, fear and exhaustion.  Every time I start to write a post I stop.  I get overwhelmed with emotions.  The ones I just listed and others as well.  See, there’s this thing called Survivor’s Guilt and I have a hefty amount of it.  I know I shouldn’t, but I do.  Those are the reasons it’s so hard to come here.

The problem is that I need to come here.  I need to tell my story.  Ever since I started telling my story I’ve found this space to be my safe haven.  I can share my craziest of crazies and my saddest of saddest and yes, my happiest moments too.  I want to come back here.  I need the outlet and I need your guidance and your support and your advice.

I’m sure I’ve lost most of my readers and that is to be expected.  With my absences why would anyone stick around?  If there is anyone left out there that can help me navigate my feelings of parenting after infertility I would welcome them with open arms.  And as any of my regular readers know, I’m a step-mother, too.  Oh my goodness, the trials and tribulations of helping to raise a 13-year-old boy are numerous to say the least.  I need help.  I need to voice my concerns and my feelings and have people give me another point of view.  I like it when people give me another way of looking at a situation because sometimes I can be so caught up in it that I can’t see straight.

I think I will start in the here and now and fill in the blanks as I go.  I don’t need to post novels, I just need to post.  I have to work through my feelings and this is the best way I can think of to do it.  I don’t want to see a professional so I do what so many other people do:  I post my inner most feelings and thoughts on the internet and let readers have at it.  LOL

I hope there are still a few people out there but if not, that’s ok too.  I need to do this for me and my well-being more than anything else.  And this time, I mean it.

The First Few Days of Motherhood - Part 2

Staying in the hospital was like a dream.  And I don’t mean like a fantasy…I mean like a dream that I experienced but that didn’t really happen.  There’s so many things about the early days of motherhood that seemed unreal to me.  I found myself not asking questions when I should and listening hollowly as medical professionals spoke to me.  I don’t know if it was just the sheer shock of having an actual baby or if it was the result of the chaos that ensued around us.  When I say “chaos” I don’t mean that things got really crazy and out of hand but in my world and my mind things were definitely not going the way I thought they would so it felt very chaotic to me.

I was anxious for the nurse to come and get Baby Girl and take her to the nursery so that she could be checked out by her pediatrician.  I ate breakfast and kept attempting to nurse my little bundle.  The nurses had been in throughout the night giving me pain meds and taking both of our vitals.  Those visits on top of trying to feed the baby did not provide me with much sleep.  Thank goodness for adrenaline.

They took the baby and we waited.  While we were waiting they FINALLY brought me a pump and showed me how to use it.  They said that they could take whatever little amounts I got out with a syringe and feed it to the baby.  I was happy since it was now 24 hours after I had given birth and we still could not get a good latch on my left side.  The Lactation Consultant (I’m calling her Betty) came in and we chatted for a few minutes and then she said she’d come back once the baby was in the room again so we could practice latching and holding techniques.

We were informed that Baby Girl was still having temperature issues so they kept her even longer.  I pumped and waited…and waited…and waited.  Finally the pediatrician came in and started talking to us.  It was the same guy I went to see when we thought there was a problem with BG’s head.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to trust him.  He started out the conversation like this:

Doctor – “We are thinking that she has a hemangioma on her neck.  We’ll want to take a closer look at it maybe with an ultra sound in the coming weeks.  It doesn’t seem to be causing any breathing or swallowing issues right now.  The one on her head, though, might be a cyst of some sort…”

Me – “What?  What’s on her head?  We didn’t see anything on her head.”

Doctor – “We’ll want to take a better look at it to make sure it’s not attached to any brain tissue.  The tech on site might not want to perform a scan on a newborn so you may need to get a specialist.  We’ll also want to check her out to make sure there aren’t any others internally that we can’t see with our naked eyes.  When there’s more than one we get a little concerned that we might have a bigger problem on our hands.”

I don’t remember much more about that conversation because I was again overcome with such worry that I could barely see straight.  I kept thinking things like:  We did DE because I have bad eggs and now my poor baby STILL has some sort of health issue.  How is this happening?  We were so happy when her skull got the all clear from the other doctor.  What are we going to do?  Is she going to have to have skull surgery and/or surgery on her tiny little neck?  Will these things grow and prohibit her from a “normal” life?  I didn’t say any of this out loud at that time.  I was silenced with worry.  The doctor left and BJ and I just sat in silence.

They finally brought BG back to us once she was at a proper temperature.  I pulled her hat off that she had been wearing for over 24 hours (except for the time I took a picture of all her hair) and rubbed my fingers lightly over the top of her head.  Sure enough, there was a big lump on her head.  Her hair was so thick that we couldn’t see it.  We could only feel it.  I was so upset.  Her head was so tiny and this huge lump felt like the end of the world.  Now we had to wait for the u/s to tell us more.

 

Betty came in and helped me latch BG right away on each side.  I was thrilled.  I was determined to get this child to eat and to succeed at SOMETHING that my body was meant to do.  We nursed and visited and cuddled and it was great.  All the while in the back of my mind I was wondering if something was seriously wrong with my little girl.  I kept asking myself if I was being punished in some way for the method in which we brought her into this world.  I dismissed those thoughts as much as I could because I just wanted her to be ok.  Nothing else mattered to me.

I have already written about my physical trials after the birth so I won’t rehash everything here.  I will say that having the catheter was the BEST part of the birth.  Before the surgery I had to pee what felt like every 10 minutes.  With the catheter in I didn’t have to pee at all.  I just laid around and enjoyed being lazy.

I had a voracious appetite in the hospital and they would bring me 3 meals a day along with a couple of snacks.  I ate like a crazy woman.  I also did not have any more nausea or heartburn.  It was awesome.  I started taking notes when we checked in but as soon as all the bad news started coming our way I quit writing things down.  I had hoped to have a full record of everything that went on but that is not to be.   Coming here and spilling everything that I can remember is going to have to be good enough.

Next post will be more about my emotions and feelings during our time in the hospital and the weeks following discharge.  It is only recently after reading another blog that I realize that I not only went through one hell of a bout of PPD but also PPA (post-partum anxiety).  It wasn’t pretty…and it lingers.  One of my readers suggested that maybe I also have a bit of PTSD and I would not be surprised about that, either.  These feelings and emotions were much more than I ever expected or could have anticipated.

Living Vicariously

Back in the day...many, many years ago when I first started TTC, I couldn’t get enough of all things “baby”. I watched A Baby Story, Birth Stories, Maternity Ward, I read pregnancy journals online (the very first blogs!), I joined TTC message boards, I browsed the baby section in stores, I searched the web constantly for nursery ideas...I was all consumed. It was fun. I was full of hopes and dreams and I was sure I would get pregnant the very next cycle. I couldn’t get enough. I couldn’t wait to start my own pregnancy journal and was just so excited to experience all of what those women were going through. And then the years dragged on. My (then) SIL started popping out kids like a Pez dispenser, my sister got knocked up accidentally and my brother’s girlfriend did the same. Ladies at work were having kids. Life was passing me by. My marriage fell apart and no sooner did the ex hook up with someone, she got knocked up. It seemed hopeless to say the least.


For so long I lived vicariously through everyone else’s pregnancies and births. It got to a point where I wanted nothing to do with anything “baby”. I turned bitter and angry and just generally became depressed about it. At one point I became very numb to it all. I let it all ride off me like rain on an oiled roof. Yes, it still bothered me. Yes, I still cried from time to time. Yes, it was like a punch in the face when I heard yet another woman in my neighborhood was pregnant. It has not been an easy road.

Shortly after BJ and I decided to go down the DE road a girl in my office announced her pregnancy. I’m not sure if I posted about it but I told her that I sort of had a feeling...I told her that I have pregdar. Since then, she has gravitated toward me with regard to talking about pregnancy related matters. She talks to me about her sickness, her food aversions, the fact that she and her husband need a new “safe” car for the baby, nursery decorations, sonograms and so forth. She was so excited for her anatomy scan yesterday that she practically burst into my cubicle before and after the appointment. She’s having a girl. She is beyond excited. We’ve talked about things you are not allowed to eat when pregnant. We’ve talked about how invasive it feels to have co-workers touch her stomach unsolicited. I gave her some advice about announcing the baby’s name, once they have decided upon it. She’s so excited to go register this weekend. *sigh*

I find myself getting sucked in. This girl is not a “friend”, we barely know each other. We worked on our department’s gingerbread house for the competition at our holiday party together (which we won first place!!) and since then we have talked much more. She’s very sweet and I like her. Since the whole pregnancy announcement we’ve talked a LOT, especially about baby/pregnancy related stuff. When I talk to her I’m filled with hope and excitement. I’m filled with dreams of experiencing the things she is going through right now. I want to compare notes with her. I want to say things like “Well hopefully soon I will be getting sick, too!” or “I’m going to have a really hard time giving up my Subway turkey sandwich that I love so much!” I have not said any of these things but I have come close. It scares me. It scares me that I’m filled with that much hope. I find that I’m living vicariously through her and that really scares me. I have actually gone to the DE board that I found searching for failure stories to bring myself back to reality. What a harmful thing to do to myself. I should have hope and I should not punish myself for having that hope, but I feel like I need to.

This might not work. I’ve read plenty of stories where women have failed multiple DE cycles...like 4 or 5 failures. I am trying to keep my wits about me but I keep getting sucked into the excitement and the hope. When I read those stories of failures I get even more scared. I’m terrified of going back to that place of darkness that I spent the most of last year in. I think I have had too long to think about this. BJ and I made the decision to pursue this form of treatment on January 3...it’s been over 2 months and I’m still waiting to move forward. I guess we have made some progress but it’s been slow and not at all like doing an IVF where things start to move quickly and before you know it you are having embryos transferred into your uterus. My coordinator got back to me and told me that we are waiting on the last recipient to get her period and then she can start the bcp. The rest of us are already on the pill. My financial coordinator finally called me back (it only took 2 voicemails) and said that she mailed my donor contract yesterday along with my invoice for the remaining balance that is due by 3/22. So we have made progress, it’s just hard to gauge right now since all I’m doing is taking a pill and some vitamins. I’m not complaining, I know how fortunate we are to even be in this position right now. I’m just trying to get used to how slow this process is compared to my other treatments. And I also know that I over think things if I’m given too much time.

So that is where I am. I’m living vicariously through the overjoyed pregnant girl in my office as well as the completely devastated women on the DE board. I sure hope I get to make the transition into real life living as a pregnant girl and not as a continued bitter infertile. As always, thanks for letting me come here and voice my worries and my thoughts, no matter how crazy or irrational they seem. I love having this space to work things out in my head.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I'm Still Here

Hi everyone.  Sorry I have been out of touch lately.  I was off work last week and sitting with the laptop on my lap just didn't seem appealing.  I have quite a few posts from you all that I need to catch up on as well as my commenting.  I definitely slacked on that last week, too.  I like to take all or at least part of that week off in May each year.  My birthday was Wednesday and our anniversary was Friday.  Plus, the weather is usually really nice during that time.  I'm working on about 8 posts in my head but for now I'm going to try and give you a brief (ha ha) rundown of how things have been going lately.

The Little Guy's mother went camping for almost a week in Dover.  She and her boyfriend love the races and they usually go to 4 or 5 races a year.  During this time she missed 2 of his baseball games.  He was in the lineup to pitch again.  He did a great job.  He even struck someone out!  We were so excited.  I sent a couple of texts to his mother to give her updates.  He didn't hit great that game but was very proud of himself for his pitching, as he should be.

I went to a scrapbooking crop (an event to work on scrapbooks) and finished 32 pages.  I didn't do much talking to the other participants because they were talking about their dogs and their kids and their extracurricular activities and I just didn't feel like I had a lot to contribute.  I chimed in here and there with stories about the LG but I feel like such a fraud when I do that.  One of my upcoming posts will be more on that feeling.  I ordered a special edition album for myself just in case our IVF worked and I ended up having a little girl.  The order was placed while I was stimming, I think.  When I saw it on the table I got a little choked up.  It will now be a gift for my SIL for her birthday next month.

We found out that the LG's teacher has leukemia.  She's being treated at one of the best hospitals around.  We noticed that he was having a substitute quite often so we were wondering what was up.  At a meeting at the school (second beta day) the Vice Principal told us she was having health issues and we didn't push the matter.  The LG's mom called me the next day with the diagnosis.  She knows someone that volunteers at the school a lot that spilled the beans.  It's very sad and it really lets us know that no one is immune from illness.  I'm hoping that she gets the treatment that will save her.  I don't want to tell the LG any bad news about his teacher.

My birthday was Wednesday and it passed without too much fan fare, which I'm fine with.  Besides the fact that I lost our baby 2 weeks before, it was my 35th birthday.  My cutoff date for any more trying.  Needless to say I wish the day never happened this year.  BJ forgot what day it was until after 2:00 (and after 3 phone conversations) when he called me and was very apologetic.  He knew it was my birthday but with me being off and not talking about it, it slipped his mind.  My mother even called me.  I about fell out of my chair.  My dad called, of course.  More on that later, too.  My SIL stopped by with a card, a balloon and a rose bush for me to plant.  I was thrilled that she remembered.  I am very lucky to have her.  I baked cupcakes for the first time ever.  I just made the cake mix out of the box and the icing out of the container but they were so yummy.  I even bought a piping bag and tips and frosted them!  Go me!  We went to dinner and then it was just an evening on the couch.

The LG went 4 for 4 at his game Thursday with a double.  It was very exciting.  It definitely boosted his confidence even more.

Our 4th wedding anniversary was Friday.  BJ was going to take off but he had a meeting in Annapolis at 1:00 that he could not miss.  :-(  As he was driving up there he called me and I said that he should have come back home to pick me up so we could hang together after his meeting.  He promptly turned around and drove 30 minutes backwards to come and get me.  He came in the door and said, "we should pack a bag in case we want to stay somewhere up there."  BRILLIANT idea.  I've never thrown an overnight bag together so quickly in my life.  We headed up there and he had his meeting and we hit the mall.  We browsed for a while and I saw a Pottery Barn Kids and decided to head in there to see if there was anything cool for the LG's room.  As I was looking around at the kid stuff I turned and saw that BJ had found a nice rocker/glider to sit in.  I walked over to him and he said, "you ought to try this".  My eyes started darting around to the back of the store and I noticed that BJ was sitting in front of a crib and all of a sudden my chest got tight and I didn't know where to look to avoid all the baby stuff that we had stumbled upon.  I said, "no...I need to leave this store now."  He looked around and noticed the crib and agreed with me.  When will this stop hurting so much?  We decided not to stay up there because even the Holiday Inn Express wanted almost $200 for the night.  We came home and showered and headed to Outback to use a gift card I had.  Our neighbors were there...the ones that supposedly don't like or want kids.  She pulls out a photo album and it's full of pictures of her newborn nephew.  I smile and get tears in my eyes as I'm flipping the pages.  One of BJ's coworkers is there, also.  His wife comes over with pictures of their new granddaughter.  REALLY???  Have I not suffered enough?  As I'm staring at each picture I just can't believe that I will never have one of these beautiful beings.  She looked at me and asked me if I was ok.  I said, "yes, I'm just enjoying the pictures."  Liar.

The weekend was filled with removing all of our front landscaping, tilling it, tilling around the mailbox, shopping for plants, digging holes, mixing dirt, planting and spreading mulch.  We live in an area that is mostly filled with clay.  Clay that you could make sculptures out of.  Needless to say, BJ had a really hard time digging all those holes.  Poor thing.  We are not finished yet but enough is done to where we don't have to do anything this weekend unless we want to.

There's more to update but this post has gotten long enough so I'll close with that.  Thank you everyone for being there and thinking of me.  I will be catching up with all of you over the next couple of days.

The Physical Side

There are some definite emotional aspects of losing a pregnancy; I think we can all agree on that. Some of them I was prepared for, others not so much. Today, however, I want to talk a little bit about the physical aspects of what I am going through. Some of this is because I have stopped all the meds but the changes are still changes no matter the reason. I need to give a voice to some of these things and my blog is the perfect place to unload. I promise that not all of my posts will be downer posts but right now I’m a bit overwhelmed with my feelings and I don’t have the ability to let it out in my everyday life.


One of the first physical changes I have noticed is that I’m not nearly as tired as I was before. I miss the tiredness.

I’m not sickened by tomatoes anymore. This symptom was rather exciting to experience. I’ve read about and heard 100 stories about people that can’t eat one thing or another that used to be their favorite and it was really cool to have that happen to me. I wish tomatoes still made me feel sick.

I’ve had some really painful cramps with this period. There were a few times that I had to catch my breath because it felt like someone was stabbing my ovary or my uterus with a machete. This pain was tough to deal with as I knew it didn’t mean good things were happening in that part of my body.

As of this morning, my boobs have quit hurting. Mind you, they have been pretty damn sore since about the 3rd day of my birth control pills. The pain eased up a little after retrieval but then promptly started aching like crazy again shortly thereafter. I don’t think they actually had time to grow but they sure felt a bit more “solid” through this whole thing. I miss the boob pain. The pain was the last trace of physical evidence that I had that my body tried to create a life.

I am pad/panty liner free as of a few hours ago. I had been wearing a panty liner since the day after retrieval because of the progesterone suppositories. I was irritated by them and I was sick of oozing but I was hoping to have to wear them for several more weeks. I still needed them after I stopped the meds as there was some residual “exiting” going on. Then the period came.

My period was nowhere near as heavy as I thought it would be. I guess it’s true when they say a lot of early pregnancies terminate themselves ever before the woman knows she’s pregnant. I sure couldn’t tell that I had been on extra E2 or that my ute was trying to fill up for a baby. The period started Sunday morning and was pretty much gone by Tuesday morning, aside from some spotting. So this morning I took my liner off.

I had a rough evening last night. It was baseball practice night so BJ and the Little Guy were not home when I got there and it was my job to cook dinner. I reached to get the pot for the spaghetti noodles and saw the mail on the counter. It was only 2 things and as I picked up the first item I was sucker punched when I saw what the second thing was. It was a brochure from our local hospital. The front cover had a mom and her newborn and the words, “Thinking of having a baby?” I stared at it for a second and then promptly picked it up, tore it in half and threw it in the trash. I was so angry at BJ for leaving it there. My anger and hurt eventually built to a boiling point. When the Little Guy went up to take a shower I started crying. I couldn’t stop, I could barely catch my breath. BJ came up to me and asked me why I was crying. I told him that it just really hurts and it gets to be too much sometimes. And he had the nerve to ask me “what does?”. I couldn’t speak. And then he said, “the baby thing?”. All I could do was nod. How could this man be so blind? He gave me a hug and I cried for a few minutes. I am shocked at how quickly he has recovered and apparently forgotten what just happened to us, to me. I told him it was really hard to come home and see that flyer from the hospital and he said he meant to throw it away. Really? The trashcan is about 5 feet from where he laid it down on the counter. I obviously can’t share my grief with him. He’s shown that he’s not emotionally available to me. I’ve known for a long time that he’s not good at dealing with people that grieve but I thought it would be different this time considering he lost something too. I was afraid of what a BFN would do to our relationship and now I’m even more afraid of what this loss will do. I’m too emotional and too raw right now to have to worry about my marriage so I’m just going to do my best to suck it up when I’m around him and do my grieving in private and on my blog. I love him too much to even think about losing him too.

A better post is coming tomorrow, I promise. There are other things going on in my life besides these recent events and they deserve some recognition, too.

Spilling the Beans

There are now 2 people at work that know about the recent events in my life. For someone that really likes to keep things private I have managed to have 2 breakdowns at work in 2 days. Go figure.


The first person is a RPL girl. She married later than most of us and apparently started trying for kids right away. I don’t know her whole story but I know she had 4 miscarriages. She ended up having to have a hysterectomy last month and I feel so badly for her. She comes from a very large, very loving and all involved family and I know she wanted a child of her own in the worst way. She stopped by my desk yesterday afternoon to ask me if I had seen a coworker’s new baby yet. I said that I hadn’t and she said, “Oh, you have to come see her!” And I choked out the words, “I can’t” and she said, “but why??” And that’s when I lost it and confessed. She was very sympathetic and said the right thing, “I know there’s nothing I can say except that I’m so sorry.” She had a few questions and I answered them. She said how much she hates Mother’s day and I agreed. I felt a little better after letting that out.

Today is when the other person found out. It’s the same co-worker friend that I wrote about earlier when she called me out for not “being nice anymore”. I went into her office for something and she said, “I heard you laughing earlier, but it sounded really fake....are you ok?” And again the tears came and I blurted it out. She hugged me and at first was a bit excited for me as she said, “well at least you now know that you can get pregnant!” I had to explain everything to her. She knew there was nothing comforting to say to me so she just hugged me and said that I would be ok. Then she went on to suggest adoption. Not what I needed to hear. I had to tell her how expensive it is and she was very surprised. The more we talked the more we went down a road I didn’t want to go down. She said that she knows I’m hurting and she can’t even imagine my pain (all good) and then she said that for whatever reason, and she believes there is a reason, it’s just not in the cards for me. Ouch. As if I weren’t already starting to really believe that myself. She said that I have many wonderful things in my life (a fact not lost on me) and maybe I just need to focus on those things. Double ouch. She said that in her own life she has often wondered why some things happen to her and later on down the road she usually gets her answer and she understands why. She said that later on in my life I will understand why this happened and why I haven’t been able to achieve this goal. All true, but I don’t want to hear it. She was helpful and sympathetic, just a little too realistic for me right now.

It’s very strange, but I haven’t heard back from my dad or my stepmom after yesterday’s e-mail. I really expected a phone call last night or a response e-mail today. I haven’t gotten anything. I wonder what that means. I hope they aren’t mad at me for trying this again. And even though I was hoping they would offer to help finance another endeavor I don’t really expect my dad to offer up $30,000 for donor egg or adoption. In my e-mail I just stated how much those options were and complained about how the infertile community is completely taken advantage of. I clearly explained that I believed this to be the end of the road for us. I just hope I didn’t anger them in any way. That is the last thing I wanted to do.

Thanks again to all of my readers and commenters and e-mailers....you really do help and you make me smile real smiles. I know I will get through this and having you by my side will make the healing process more bearable.

Trying to Move On

Hello everyone. I must say that I’m super impressed with how this community can pull together. Especially in times of crisis. Reading all of your comments last week really let me know how awesome y’all are. I’ve never felt more supported and understood. Thank you so very much.


Some of you may be wondering how I could get my hopes up so high so quickly. Let me explain. I’ve been waiting for a positive pregnancy test for 10 years. Yes, I was apprehensive to believe it at first. Once I saw that beautiful pink line (on my 3rd test) and when that was followed by my wanting to spit out any trace of tomato that entered my mouth I was ecstatic on the inside. Sure, I was a bit panicked when my 4th test line was lighter. The way I rationalized this whole process was like this: If God was going to let me get this far, with a positive test and food aversions, then He’d let me go all the way. I knew it wouldn’t be smooth sailing but I had no idea how quickly it’d be over either. I know I was foolish to get so attached so quickly. I was incredibly bold to think that it all would work out when I was weeks away from a heartbeat. I should have known better. Something magical happened to me when I saw those lines. I believed for the first time ever that this was my ticket to motherhood. I’ve always hoped and prayed and begged, but I’ve never believed it like I did for those few days. Looking back I can see how naïve I was but I just couldn’t help it. It was the happiest I have been in a long time.

We were supposed to go to BJ’s sister’s house Friday night for his nephew’s “family” birthday party. She’s having the “friend” party this weekend but I am unable to attend as I have a scrapbooking event. I told BJ how much I didn’t want to go. There will be lots of people, at least 3 toddlers and one baby. No thank you. We didn’t want to go in the first place because BJ will be taking the Little Guy to the “friend” party this weekend so why go twice? I told him to tell her the truth. So he did. He called me back and said how upset she was for us. She had an ectopic about 11 years ago so she knows a little about the pain of loss. The difference is that she went on to have 3 healthy babies pretty much at will. She called me after the party and we talked for a little while. She confided in me about something BJ said to her. He said, “(insert SIL’s name), I’ve never seen TeeJay like that...she was just glowing with happiness.” It broke my heart to hear that. Mainly because I was trying hard to stay focused and not get too carried away with my emotions. Major fail there. I obviously wear my emotions where everyone can see them. She said that she wished she had money to give us to try again. She’s very sweet and I’m lucky to have her as my SIL.

The rest of the weekend was pretty lame and laid back, exactly what I needed. We didn’t talk about it much. I had a few weak moments where I cried. We went out Saturday and I ordered an iced tea. And then after dinner I ordered a drink. I hadn’t had caffeine in over 2 weeks and I hadn’t had a drink in about 4 weeks. As I sipped them both I was saddened. I didn’t want them. I wanted to be pregnant and be avoiding drinks like that. Indulging in both of them did nothing but bring me down. I know this will get easier but right now it just plain sucks. I was raking the front yard again and thought, “Well, I don’t have to take it easy this time.” Tears again. I told BJ that even though it was nice to spend yesterday with him it was the worst Mother’s day I’ve ever had. My period showed up yesterday morning as the exclamation point that I am no longer pregnant. Nice, huh?

I sent my parents an e-mail today explaining what happened. I wanted them to know and I’m selfishly hoping they will offer to help pay for another method of expanding our family. I don’t hold out much hope on that front but maybe I’ll be surprised. I will probably hear from them later on this evening. I just really wanted them to know that we tried again and almost made it to the other side. There have been events in the past involving their children which they have wished they knew about so I felt that I needed to tell them this.

I’m still making my way through all the Mother’s day posts from over the weekend. I pretty much avoided most blogs this weekend but I’m slowly catching up and have even been able to comment on a few. Unfortunately, I didn’t think I’d ever be one of those girls that stopped following someone because they got pregnant but it happened. It wasn’t so much that this person got pregnant, it was more the fact that she was due 4 days after what would have been my due date. I just couldn’t follow along. Maybe that makes me selfish and silly but I don’t know of any other way to protect myself. Following blogs with babies and women that are well into their pregnancies is not having the same effect on me. Maybe I’ll get over that hurdle and it won’t be so hard, I just don’t know right now.

14dp5dt - Beta #2

This will probably be a very long and rambly type post and I apologize in advance.  I've never been in this situation before and there is a lot going on inside my head and heart.  I've only been able to release a few snippets at home so unfortunately I'm going to unload here.  For those that want just the basics my number came back at 30.5. I have to go back in a week to make sure I'm at 0 and that I don't have an infection.

I had such hopes for this cycle.  Everything was different this time and I just knew it work.  I was mainly calm and relaxed and going with the flow.  I even took time off work to help me maintain my new relaxed state.  My monitoring appointments went well.  I was still responding low, but consistent.  My E2 was rising quite nicely and I had 5 mature eggs at retrieval.  I had 3 embryos growing.  I actually had a blast and an early blast on transfer day.  They weren't great quality but I had them.  I know you all know these stats already but somehow seeing it in writing makes it more real for me.

I had a really bad headache that usually means my natural hormones are dropping and that a cycle has failed.  I was beginning to convince myself that my poor little, poor quality embryos didn't make it.  I bought a 2 pack hpt on a whim.  I saw the faintest of a 2nd line.  I was blown away.  I didn't know how to react.  I didn't even tell my husband about that test.  I still haven't.  So I took another one and saw the line again.  It was time to get a good quality test.  The morning of May 1, 2011 changed my life.  I saw a very distinct 2nd line.  This was the first time I knew that we had made a baby.  I was scared, excited, anxious, confused and many more emotions.  This doesn't happen to me.  I don't get the happy ending.  I continue to suffer, to agonize, to watch everyone else get babies while my womb remains empty.

Then it got more real.  I couldn't stop smiling.  I touched my belly a few times and was overcome with such love and hope that I didn't know what to do with it all.  I looked up my due date, January 7.  I told Gizmo (my kitten) that he would soon have to share his mommy with another baby.  As I was climbing up into BJ's truck I told him that he really needs to think about investing in the side steps because I'm going to be needing them if I'm to ever be able to ride in his truck.  We went to 5 Guys for lunch on Sunday.  I gagged when we walked in.  I had to take my tomato off my burger in order to finish it.  The fries were not appetizing, either.  The texture of the tomato was not agreeing with me.  I didn't even want to see it.  I knew then that I was pregnant.  (That's the first time I've said (or typed) those words).  We had the Little Guy's baseball game that afternoon.  He was playing his cousin's team so BJ's BIL was there along with the BIL's parents.  It was so hard not to blurt it out to them.  At the same time it was nice having that little secret.

Monday was a little scary for me when my test line wasn't as dark but after constantly googling and the help of my blog buddies, I calmed down and just accepted the fact that everything would be ok.  Different tests, dehydration, some women have more HCG at night it seems, and so on.  I was putting my positive hat back on.  I even went as far as looking at the calendar for next year and figuring out that with my maternity leave and my saved up vacation that if I had the baby in early January, I wouldn't be going back to work until early May.  What a lovely thought.

Tuesday morning when I woke up at 4:30 (for the 4th morning in a row) and couldn't go back to sleep my mind began to wander.  I started thinking of what kind of furniture I would want in the nursery.  I decided on white wood to keep it light and bright and "baby-like".  And then I started thinking about things we would need and how I'd need to do all kinds of research on products and how I'd finally get to write a post asking the new moms what their favorite items were.  I was thinking of how our 2 neighbors just had little girls and that our baby would get to grow up with them...instant friends.  This was the first time I was looking forward to a beta with no anxiety (well, a little) and with hope.  I couldn't wait to get that call.  BJ met me for lunch and we ate and talked, it was nice.  He actually told me that he had some butterflies, too.  I again had to remove the tomato from my sandwich.  This baby obviously does not like them as much as I do.  I went home and BJ went back to work.  He called me within 20 minutes saying that he was coming home.  He didn't say it, but I know that he wanted to be with me for the call.  As we waited we just sat on the couch quietly chatting.  I told him it was only going to be good news...I just knew it.  I was wrong.

Through tears I explained to him what the nurse said and what it most likely meant.  He said he was sorry and he held me while I cried.  He made a comment that hurt me more than it helped me when I told him I just didn't get how we could get this close and have it taken away from us.  He said, "because those doctors are trying to play God."  I didn't have the emotional will power to argue with him at that time.  That discussion came last night but I won't get into that right now.  We had a meeting at the LG's school shortly after the call so we hauled ourselves out of the house.  Once we got back I googled the Hell out of low betas just trying to give myself some hope.  It didn't really work.  Most of what I read was bad.  Most low betas were earlier than mine so it didn't really apply to me.  Some people were panicking over a beta in the 100's and 200's.  Really?  Again, not helpful to me.  The LG had practice and I was going to go since it was such a beautiful day outside but decided I didn't want to socialize with any of the other mothers.  When BJ got home he said he was glad I didn't go because there was a pregnant woman there.  I'm glad I stayed home too.  It gave me a chance to beg God out loud not to take my baby.  I don't have many "out loud" conversations with God, mainly they take place in my head.  This night, however, required a certain octave.

I've never felt more desperate to hold onto something.  I've been in love with this baby since I saw that first faint line.  I know many people will say that it never was a baby...it was too early to be anything.  I disagree.  I saw the embryos.  They didn't look good but they were alive and growing.  I got a positive test, I got 4 positive tests and a positive beta.  I will always think of this as my baby.  I don't know why God chose this path for me.  It's not something I will ever understand.  I just have to learn to accept the fact that I am not meant to carry a child.  The money is gone.  There are no more options.  Adoption is too expensive to consider and I'm not emotionally ready for that, nor do I know if I ever will be.  I might consider donor eggs but that is another emotional roller coaster that I'm not sure I can deal with.  I will admit that I'm thinking about it.  Of course I'd have to take a loan from my parents for such a thing.  I'm not ready to think of next steps yet.  I'm not done getting over this loss and what this loss means for us.  I know what a hard time I had last time when our IVF failed and I didn't get a positive test.  BJ said he sort of wished I had never peed on any of those sticks.  I'm glad I did it.  I have this saying going through my head - it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.  I accomplished my goal of getting pregnant before my 35th birthday.  I guess I should have been more specific with that goal.  I now know what it feels like to really know that there is a life trying to grow inside me.  I loved that feeling.  I loved those 4 1/2 days.  BJ and I had talked about waiting a while before telling anyone.  I changed that plan to telling certain people as soon as we saw a heartbeat.  I told him that we would probably get an u/s in 2 or 3 weeks to confirm a heartbeat.  I was so excited thinking about ways to tell the LG and my parents.  I'm debating on telling my parents this story anyway.  I'd like them to know my pain so that they can offer support because I really need it.  On the other hand I don't want to hurt them.  I don't know what to do.  There's so much more to write but I'm draining myself right now so I will end this here.

Thank you all so much for your support and your hope and your words of wisdom.  I would be lost without all of you.  If you've made it this far you deserve an award but all I have to offer is my sincerest of thank you's.

6dp5dt - The Burning Question

When I say burning, I mean it's burning in my head.  The question is When Will I Test?

As it stands right now I have the following symptoms:
* None

I have no symptoms that couldn't just be explained away by the extra estrogen and the extra progesterone.  My belly feels a little bloated.  I'm tired.  I'm emotional (more on that in a minute).  I've felt a few twinges here and there in the ute/ovary area.  Pretty much, my ovaries are trying to get back to normal and the extra estrogen is filling up my lining more than usual so it's no wonder I've been feeling something here and there.  My boobs are sore (although, as of this morning not as much as before).

I'm too scared to test.  I get teary eyed when I think about doing it.  The good thing is that I don't own any tests right now.  Not even any opk's.  I've had a few fleeting moments where I have thought about stopping on my way home to get a test and then I just drive by all the stores without even glancing their way.  I will not wait for beta, that is for sure.  I will probably test Saturday morning.  I will be 9dp5dt.  There will be an answer.  I'm picking Saturday morning because I can't bear the thought of coming to work on Friday if it's negative.  And I'm starting to believe that it will be.  Did you just hear me catch my breath and gulp back tears?

I know it's early and that many women do not feel any symptoms this early...or at all.  However, it's just a sinking feeling that I have.  I have bad eggs that made bad embryos.  I know the reality of that mix.  I've been googling and reading message boards and blogs a lot this week.  Some women have great stories and others have crappy stories.  I'm not giving up hope but I'm definitely trying to prepare myself for reality.  I want to believe that my embryos are thriving and hanging on but I'm having a really hard time with that.  Why would this time be any different than before?

I wish I could be more positive.  I'm just too scared to be.  I was so positive through all the stimming and everything up until yesterday.  All of my emotions have come crashing down on me.  This is IT, folks.  This is my last chance to have a child of my own.  There is no more money and if there were I don't know that I could do this again.  There is so much riding on this.  My entire life will change Saturday morning with that pee stick.  If there is a blank window I fear a blank future.  I know that I have much to be thankful for in my life (I will be doing a happiness post next just to remind me) but knowing that I will not be a mother is going to be a tough pill to swallow.  A pill with razors and saw blades and barbed wire, to be exact.  It's a pill that I don't want to swallow and that I don't know (at this time) how to swallow.  If the test shows 2 lines...I don't need to explain to you how my life will change but it will be amazing.

My emotions are running so high right now.  I'm feeling down and depressed and ready to cry at anything.  My mind won't shut up with all of its "what if this didn't work?" crap.  I'm trying really hard but I just can't picture a positive outcome.  I know nothing is over until Saturday morning, but my heart feels like it's over.  My mind is trying to wrap itself around a (bio)childless future and it's bleak to say the least.  I have to find a way to push through this.  I have to reach deep inside and find strength like never before to carry on.  There have been a few times in my life where I've had to deal with major losses but I have found a way to function and now I fear that I will have to do that again.  It takes so much out of me to fight depression and I just don't want to go back there.  I'm afraid of what it will mean for my marriage.  My husband loves me but he doesn't understand my grief.  He doesn't like to see me sad which means I have to be fake and being fake with the one person I should be able to bare my soul to will suck the life out of me.  I'm not sure I can be fake this time.  I'm not sure I will be able to just move on and get over it at his speed.  I will need to do it in my own way and in my own time and I'm not sure he'll be able to handle it.  Man, this is fucking hard.

Why can't I just be normal?  Why can't I just have good eggs?  Why do I feel like I'm being punished?  There are 100 "why" questions out there and unfortunately there are no answers.  It is what it is and there's nothing I can do about it now.  I will know my answer Saturday morning.  My life will change.  I hope for the better but I am preparing for the worst.

Denied

:-(

I have so much to say but I just can't put my thoughts together right now.  We were not accepted into the shared risk program, obviously.  Not sure where to go from here.  Will update when I feel like I can put a coherent thought together.

Thank you all for your well wishes.  It really means a lot to me that I have so many cheerleaders out there in bloggy land.  You ladies are the best and I'd really be a mess without you.