Are Ya Gonna?

They're starting to ask questions. Friends, Family, Neighbors, and nosey effing strangers.

Are you going to have more children?

When is number two?

Do you think you want more children?

If you're going to have more, you better get started! TICK, TICK, TICK!

Hey people, guess what? It's six years later and my opinion hasn't changed. The status of occupancy in my hooha is really none of your effing business.

I will say that having a child has softened me as well as helped me become A LOT more tactful, so I of course do not speak to anyone that way. And heck, on a good day, I can even see that what they are asking isn't really all that unreasonable. But I still feel like it's pretty private information, and mostly make it a habit not to ask anyone of their plans. And I guess really, I don't mind when close friends ask. But when strangers and certain family members ask, I feel like the only right answer is: YES! Of course we'll have more!!! And if I say: No, or we're not sure yet, it means we don't actually like children enough to deal with more than one...  I also feel compelled to explain how much and how long it took us to just get Leah. And how grateful we are to at least have her.

But to be completely honest here, Brian and I have been going back and forth a lot lately. With no immediate decisions or actions made. The consensus (fortunately) is that we feel pretty fulfilled with just having Leah. We do have one frozen embryo, but we don't know when or if we are going to use it. 

Yet. 

At all?

We have a lot of reasons not to go forward with it, but only a few, albeit VERY strong reasons to use it.

My Internal Arguments are as follows:

I would love to have another baby!
counter: But I do feel complete with our family the way it is.

I truly loved every second of being pregnant. Even the vomitous, sleepless, achy parts.
While that statement is completely accurate, it was actually really hard on my body physically. I have had pretty chronic issues with my back for years, and pregnancy didn't help it. And having a little one to pick up and carry around daily has perpetuated the physical strain. Regular Chiropractic care and stretching is an absolute must, and even with diligence in both of those areas, I have had a few significant episodes. And yes, we are still working out religiously two-three times a week. Which has helped SO much.

It would be great to have a sibling for Leah, since she won't have any first cousins, and both our families are relatively small already.
I feel like we could provide pretty well for Leah, if we were to only have one child. Two, and they would each have to be partially be responsible for their college tuition. (not the end of the world) But it wouldn't just be college. It would mean Brian and I would both probably have to work a lot longer, possibly well into our retirement years. Something neither of us may physically be able to do.

We chose to create embryo's and I feel a certain responsibility to use the one remaining guy (or girl!) that we have.
I literally lose my breath when I think about setting foot in my RE's office. The thought of lab tests - and waiting for the dreaded results, dildo cams,  PIO shots, having a black and blue stomach from weeks of heparin shots, driving 60 miles round trip for Intralipid infusions once per week - at $550 a pop for an unforeseen amount of time -tho no more than 17 weeks (if I got pg). Not to mention the fact that every single item I listed would be a 100% out of pocket expense. We're looking at 7-9k, easy. Just for an FET. And all I can think about is how that money could be better spent, than gambling it, and IT IS A GAMBLE; gambling it on the possibility of having another child. (BUT HOW CAN YOU PUT A PRICE ON THAT?!?) It could also mean I  wouldn't be able to stay home with them... 

Really when I boil it down, at this point - I want to NOT go through anymore treatments MORE than I want another baby. If that makes sense. And all at the same time I am grateful that we even have another embryo to get to make this choice.

The good news is, my embryo was made when I was 32. I'll be 35 next year, and in my mind I'm okay with trying it as late as 37. So I don't have to make any decisions today. The Bad news? I guess I'll just have to keep fielding the questions for the next three-ish years....

And I Lost It

I was stuffing Christmas card envelopes last weekend, when I suddenly and completely fell apart. I just burst in tears. A wave of gratitude and I guess... relief; just bowled me over.

Relief that my darkest days are behind me.  

It's been years since we've sent out cards. In fact it was only three short years ago that I couldn't bring myself to open any of the cards we received, or even get a tree for that matter. 

Throughout our IF journey, Christmas has been particularly painful. (obviously, I know we weren't alone there.) It only reminded me of everything we didn't have. 

But Christmas wasn't really the culprit, the truth is I was a complete and udder train wreck for most of the last four years. It wasn't until the last few months that I have really made the time to reflect on where I was. Part of me thinks I've been too afraid to fully digest how bad things really were. It consumed and effected every part of my life. I let it. I guess you could say I was the poster child for 'leaning into it'. But I don't think I could have done it any differently. That is just how I function. I have to breathe things in, and really feel them in order to process the situation. Boy did I ever. And it was abysmal. 

But now? 

Now, I am obscenely, unabashedly happy. All the time. Sure I've been in a mood from time to time, but truly 98% of the time I am grinning from ear to ear. But I will never forget how lucky I am. And how so many of you, including some very dear friends that I have met through this community, whom are still fighting a very brave fight. Thank Gawd I found this community. THANK YOU, UNIVERSE, FOR BRINGING THESE WONDERFULLY AMAZING BRILLIANT COMPASSIONATE GENEROUS WOMEN INTO MY LIFE. 

**** I wrote this post a few days before the Newton Tragedy. Even the word tragedy feels like an atrocious understatement. I read one of the first reports that came out about it and not a single thing more. I stayed away from facebook. I couldn't watch or listen to the news. What happened... destroyed me. I felt physically ill. I was in tears on and off throughout the weekend, clutching my daughter. Shaking my head as I bit my lower lip trying to keep myself from completely losing my shit, again and again. I don't even know how to process what happened. All I can do is pray for those beautiful little babies, and all of the victims, and their families. This has to stop. IT JUST HAS TO.  

I Still Don't Get It...

We battled for almost five years before we received the greatest gift we could ever hope for. Our daughter.

I know the depths of the IF battlefield so well that it still knocks the wind out of me when I think about my darkest days. 

It haunts me. 

I am afraid of who I was. 

Terrified that it will find me again. 

The anguish. The sorrow. Consumed on a daily basis by the fear of the unknown. It's crippling. Still.

When I see my dear friends, in the blogosphere and in real life suffering; consumed, paralyzed by loss. By failure. It crushes me.

Especially now that I know the joy, the unbelievable gift of a child. It kills me that much more to think of my friends who have been denied the experience. Who have suffered losses. 

I want it so very much for them. 

Why can't children come from wishes?

Something Is Stopping Me

In the very back on the third shelf in my refrigerator sits a tiny stockpile of expired meds. Four vials of Menopur, one Ovidril trigger shot, and one Prometrium suppository. I received the Menopur in January of 2010. It came from a mutual friend who got pregnant from a medicated IUI. She gave us the leftovers in hopes that it would do the trick for us. The Ovidril is from my very last Donor IUI in December of 2009, I had ovulated before I could trigger. And the Prometrium is from my IVF cycle, I had one remaining suppository that the nurse gave me the go-ahead to skip which I gratefully took her up on because I was so fricken constipated, I couldn't imagine allowing my body to increase it's progesterone levels a single point higher. Oh yeah, and my partially used follistim pen is in there too. It's been over three years that most of those meds have been taking up a small corner in the back of my fridge, and I just can't throw them away. Something is stopping me.


I know I probably say it a lot, but seriously, every morning when I look at Leah's smiling face, I wonder how the hell we got so fucking lucky. I stare into her eyes, and marvel to myself... She's ours. 


I look at my Stats through blogger, and I check out the traffic I'm getting on a weekly basis. The links I find take me to blogs of women who are just starting out, or finally starting an assisted cycle, IUI - IVF. And I want to reach out to them, like so many of you did for me during the last four and a half years that my blog has existed. But I get halfway through their posts and I can't go any further. Something is stopping me.


I realized just the other day that it has been months since I checked the toilet paper after I pee. Months. It used to be such a steady habit. A ritual. For so long I checked it and examined it; cried about it. But I don't need to check it anymore. 


It takes me a little time to write my posts here, sometimes an hour, sometimes three. I usually come up with a title first, for some reason, and it spurs me to poor my guts on to my keyboard. But not this post. I've started it a dozen times over the last five months. It had no title. Just notes of things I wanted to include and random paragraphs that were weak attempts at trying to explain how I still think about Infertility every single day. But something was stopping me.


A while ago it occurred to me that I had forgotten about my fourth Blogiversary in January. The 31st to be exact. And when I went back to take a look I realized I had posted Leah's birth story that day. Four years later...

More often than not I am able to look back at our horribly difficult journey with gratitude. Gratitude for the lessons it taught me, for the women it lead me to, for the strength and depth it gave my marriage. But there are times when I am reminded of the heartache and udder despair it brought. It was crippling. For a second I can't breathe. For a second I can feel every ounce of misery. And I have to stop. I have to think of something else. Because for so long it held me hostage. And I don't want to let it do that anymore. But something is stopping me... 

Because I'm Grateful

I’m hoping with all I’ve got that I didn’t come across like a complete spoiled brat in my last post. The reality of it is that I like to write ranty posts. And in those posts I tend to blow things out of proportion. Not to say that we didn’t encounter the world’s biggest tool in the form of a BRS employee, or that I didn’t cry while filling out the application for our registry. Because I did. I cried because I couldn’t believe we were finally in the position to do this. For years that store had been a source of heartache and misery for me, and I couldn’t fathom the concept that we were sitting in it. Registering for products. For our baby. And please know that I completely understand that being overwhelmed by all of that is a great problem to have…

And also for reference, blowing things out of proportion; usually funnier. 

I’ve done a little more registering, all online. And we did register with Amaz.on, which is cool because you can register for products universally – like for things on Etsy. By the way is it EEEEtsee or Ehhhtsy? I also want to thank those of you who recommended the baby bargain book. Which reminds me I have to give a shout out to Shelby who personally recommended it to me MONTHS ago, and I forgot. Until I saw it in all of your comments… Go me. 

There’s been a shift in perception for me. I think part of it due to feeling the baby constantly move and kick – Brian has too! And also just from the simple act of counting each week, and how far along I’ve made it in this pregnancy. It’s mind blowing and I am so fricken thankful every day. While I’m of course overjoyed with the idea of meeting our baby, I’m starting to feel a little sad that this pregnancy is almost over. I have less than 13 weeks left. And this will probably be my last. Yes, we have one frozen embryo, but who is to say it will make it through the defrost, and then take. The other part is, I’m not sure I want to go through the treatment rollercoaster ever again. Mostly because it fucking blows, but also because we’re still paying off this first one. And all of the factors as to why we might just have the one, is a perfect reminder of exactly how far we’ve come and how much it pains me to think about how there are so many of you out there who are still elbow deep in it.  Several of whom I am friends with IRL. I hope you don’t think I’ve forgotten. Because believe me, it never goes away. 


I guess I also just want to convey that on top of being grateful, I am actually very much enjoying this pregnancy. And now that the baby is more active, I'm starting to realize we'll actually have an infant to bring home in a few months. And the more I think about it, and the more I watch my tummy move from kicks and turns, the more in love I fall. It's breathtaking. 

Well my brother's wedding is done. It was beautiful and fun, and I've gained a fabulous new Sister-in-Law. You might remember I ordered a regular dress two sizes too big, because I was 10-12 weeks or so at the time. Then I got it and it was a tent. I think the alterations lady did the best she could, but it still kind of looked like a moo-moo. The bottom line is that it was just not meant to be a maternity dress. I loved the color, and it was definitely comfy, but flattering - not so much. 


And my most exciting update. I have a new Doctor! Or better yet, Midwife! She is part of a practice with three OB's, and one other Midwife. While she plans to be in town for Christmas, there is a small possibility I could end up with someone else in the practice on the big day. But anyway, she's FANTASTIC. My first appointment with her was two weeks ago, and when we first sat down they hadn't gotten my charts from my other OB yet. So we just talked. I told her all about my IF history, and every step of my pregnancy along the way. And  when I told her about wanting to pursue natural child birth, do you know what she said to me? "Wow, good for you. I can see how doing it naturally would be so healing after everything you've been through".. OMFG, SHE GETS IT. And I didn't even have to explain myself! She was so friendly, and so compassionate. And took the time to explain little things that are going on with the baby, that no one else ever has! She checked my fundal height - right on target! And showed me how to tell exactly how high my uterus is. And holy crap, get this: They have an office Dog. A sweet little female black lab, who wanders around looking for the next most comfortable place to sleep. Maybe hoping for a little love on the way there. SO COOL. I know that might sound strange, believe me, their office is in a large medical facility. Not some alley. Anyway, the rest of the staff seems really cool too. 


I go back again this afternoon because I'm so far along and because she didn't have my records, she wanted to see me again in two weeks so that we could review everything. I also had my Gestational Diabetes Test last Thursday, so I'll probably get the results then. I'm SO hoping that no news is good news and that they didn't bother to call me since I'm coming in. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The stuff tasted like flat sprite with about a cup of sugar added to it. This coming from someone who rarely drinks soda. Drinking the stuff at least took the edge off being hungry, but at the same time gave me a bit of a sour stomach. All and all, not the worst experience...


Our first birthing class will actually be this weekend. It was supposed to be last week, but it's long story that I will fill you in on after the class. Sorry, I've been MIA... I've had so many posts in my head, but you know how it goes...


Update: Per request, here are some pics from the wedding. =)

Brian talking to the baby

Me and the Maid of Honor

See, it's not awful, just not flattering. I don't look pregnant, I look thick. Ahh well....

Coming Undone

I’m losing faith in this cycle.  And more than that, I’m losing faith in the concept of IVF ever making us a family to begin with… Nothing with Infertility ever seems to work out to be cut and dry. Nothing Textbook. Nothing as planned. At least for me, anyway.

I’m overwhelmed with the feeling that my journey here isn’t remotely close to coming to a conclusion. Intellectually I can comprehend the fact that three and a half years compared to a lifetime is relatively small stretch of time. But it is so fucking hard to keep any conviction in the fact that this awful period will be someday be a distant memory when you’re chest deep in the shittiest parts of it.

I'm just exhausted from all of this. Exhausted from not fitting in with my friends. From shots and pills, that aren’t making the slightest fucking difference. I’m forty five shots in and have nothing to show for it. Still. No. Period. I’m exhausted from pining and aching for this person I’ve never met. From dreaming about babies that will never be mine…

Since my period STILL hasn’t shown, I’ll be going in for another u/s and E2 check tomorrow as planned . I want to scream at Dr.3, and tell him whatever fucking method he was going by clearly isn’t working and he needs to figure this shit out. Quick. That I didn’t just hand him my life savings, but every ounce of faith, every dream and every part of me that aches to become a mother. And he needs to start treating me and this cycle as such. Like every bit of my happiness is resting on his shoulders. Because it is.  I’m tired of watching our future hanging in the balance. And wondering when or if it might fall.

But I won’t because I’m chicken shit, and as soon as my pants come off and that paper dress goes on my mind goes blank and all I can manage are simple phrases and sentence fragments. I sincerely hope this is the Lupron talking and not really my entire belief system crumbling before me. Because it sure fucking feels like it.

Trying to Hold On

Dr 3's office called me this weekend. I missed it, but my nurse coordinator called to say they'd like to have me do a few more blood tests.

More? REALLY?

Twenty-fucking-four vials didn't give them enough information already???

During my Genetic Counseling session, which Dr.3 requires before he will treat you, I mentioned that like 30 billion years ago there was some Jewish heritage in my family, (doesn't everyone, sort of?) so he wants to check me for some ridiculous gene mutations that I have never heard of (not tay sachs- already tested clear for that) They also want a blood test to see if I've ever had any kind of exposure to Tuberculosis.

Part of the reasons I'm annoyed with this is because my insurance declined to cover any of the blood work we've done so far. $3,800 dollars worth. My NP at the Obgyn's office who was trying to assist us in the insurance deception department, told me that I should call and ask that it be resubmitted. She also said she would provide a letter to them, if it'd help. All of which I plan on doing, despite my intense want to pretend none of this is even happening.

The other reason? I'm angry. And exhausted. From all of this. Sometimes I wish I didn't want a child so badly. Because my life outside of infertility is pretty great. And the parts that aren't, well, are more than enough for me to handle. I don't really need any more difficulties. REALLY UNIVERSE, YOU CAN BACK OFF NOW. MAILBOX FULL. OKAY?!

I had a dream last night, that a foster adoption we had applied for came through. (our next plan if IVF doesn't work). They placed a baby in my arms, and I instantly fell head over heels. Then I had to leave the a baby at home with Brian while I rushed out to by a car seat and clothes because we weren't at all prepared. But it was exciting. And wonderful. And I just want so very badly to be at that point all ready. I don't know how much longer I can do all this - I wish I could let it all go. The longing, the emptiness. I'm drowning in it.

I'll start BCP's in about a four weeks. And I'm excited, really. I'm honestly thrilled that we're finally going to have our first real shot at actually being pregnant - in a very long time. But I mostly just want to get it over with. To be done with this part of my life. To move on.

I'm sorry this post sounds like I'm down, which I guess in relation to IF, I am. But otherwise I'm pretty happy. Looking forward to Thanksgiving and the new Sweet Potato recipe I'm going to try out. And on that day, I'll give thanks to all of you - for every single ounce of support you've offered me. And pray with eveything I have that each of our journey's comes to a swift and blissful conclusion.

Losing My Way

Blehhhhhhhh.

I got the writers block, yo.

I think part of it is because I've been a little overwhelmed with having gone zero to sixty in such a short period of time. Which lead to me spending recent days reflecting on the last year or so of my life. And cripes has it been a doozy. Especially when I think about where I was this time last year. (Cuckoo cuckoo cahchoo, man.)

Seriously, my chest feels heavy just thinking about it.

So I'm sorry for not posting much here, or being super great about commenting. I guess reading some blogs here, no matter what stage you're in - has been overwhelming in a different way - and that way, is part of what Brian calls "you'll never win, so don't even try". Those of you in the early stages reminds me of when I was there and the fact that I'm not any further along. Those of you who are parents already - for obvious reasons. Those of you cycling; well this one is tricky because I'm jealous and I want to be at the end of a cycle already, and at the same time aloof, because damn, I'm beginning to worry that I'm not strong enough to do this. And I kind of wish it was September again - before baseline ultrasounds, crappy test results, and specifics on financials for IVF came in.

Gah.

I'm not even there yet and I'm feeling a bit disheartened. Le sigh.

Disturbing The Peace

Oh gawd, she's back. The whiny, and seemingly indecisive side of me that Infertility has capitalized on. And I'd love nothing more than to punch her square in the jaw.

I'm okay. But I think it's fair to say that last week was rough. I know that the three crappy diagnoses I've gotten in the last two weeks are not the end of the world. The hardest part for me was really that we've gone so long thinking that MFI was the only hurdle we had to jump. So hearing now that there are three significantly crappy issues on my side that could hold us back was pretty much the infertile equivalent of walking in on your parents. You turn away, alarmed, disillusioned, and in overall shock.

One more thing that sucks is that treatments could end up costing close to another 5k - worst case scenario. Which is pretty much infertility's way of pissing on the ashes that once was my retirement plan.

Now I need to clear a few things up. I'm sticking with Dr.3. I like Dr.3 (I'd say love, but we're still basically courting since I've only seen him in person once - and well, he hasn't gotten me pregnant yet - Hmm if you didn't know I was talking about IVF that statement could be misleading). AnyWAY, I believe in Dr.3. But I think it's my responsibility as a patient to question different and inconclusively proven treatments. While I'm not 100% sold on the immunological theories, my gut is telling me to go with it. Or maybe it's my uterus, since it's got a better view as to why SIX iui's failed...

Man, after taking two thirds of this year off, and away from treatments I've forgotten how truly overwhelming and consuming it is. It's like this whole other component in my marriage - it's like a second fucking job, even. Gah, I'm sort of tired of it already.

Cheese and Crackers, folks - NINE posts in one month. Are you guys sick of me yet, or what?

I'll Take "Financial Ruin" for $16,000, Please.

I had a conference call with our clinic's financial coordinator yesterday. Oy Vey, does this part suck.

This when the "oh yeah, this costs an assload of money" light bulb turned on. Not that I ever really forgot about it, but I'm wrapped up and snuggly in the idea that I might be pregnant in a few months so the rule of "Eyes on the prize" has jurisdiction over my brain. And my heart for that matter.

I don't talk about the financial side of this nightmare all that much here, mostly because I have a select few IRL friends and family that read this and I don't want them to feel bad, or like they should be doing anything other than supporting us emotionally - which if they have access to this blog they've clearly done an exceptional job at. I'm also a big believer in not discussing politics, religion, and specifics on finances (all to a certain degree). Really those topics just make things incredibly crunchy for me.

But in the true spirit of record keeping, and doing my best not to sensor myself , I find that I am overwhelmed with the urge to write about this. Mostly because I'm really struggling with it emotionally. We're going to be financing at least half of our IVF costs, and I constantly have to keep validating our decision to move forward to myself because technically, we do not have the money to do this.

If you've been reading my blog long enough you know that part of the reason we went the donor route before is because it was a lot more feasible financially. Which probably sounds callous but, after a few months of therapy I realized that our financial security is incredibly important to my sense of security in general, which translates to my overall well being. Not to mention how much of a burden finances can be on a marriage. And well, Infertility alone has already gone platinum on our asses so we won't be needing anymore of that, will we... We live very modestly. We haven't taken a real vacation since 2005. i.e. more than a long weekend that didn't involve a tent or the redeeming of hotel/airfare points, or bunking up with someone. Though our house was a big purchase it was a financially sound move.

Is it ridiculous that I'm still struggling with this so much, that I still feel the need to justify it even to a group of folks like you who totally get it?

I have to keep telling myself that this is a reasonable thing to go into (more) debt for.

That not spending beyond our means shouldn't apply to our dream of having a family.

That we can always make more money, but our window for having biological children is literally getting smaller every month.

So here's the actual genesis for this post: We will qualify for a 10% discount, but it can only be applied to a bare-bones IVF cycle that won't include medications (of course), extra monitoring ultrasounds during stims if needed; Cryo Preservation for the first year; or subsequent FET's (if the fresh cycle fails). So if the fresh cycle doesn't work it could end up costing us at least $3,500 more, not including meds.

Orrrrrrrrrr

We could pay $6k+ more for for the Two cycle program in which we would get first a fresh IVF cycle with unlimited monitoring, then FET's until we run out of embryo's. If all of that fails to get me to twelve weeks then we would be given another fresh cycle, and again as many FET's until we run out of embryo's, And it covers the first year of Cryo preservation storage.

So we can spend less (which we have the liquid cash for) on a BIG gamble, or sell a kidney to come up with the money to take less of a risk of us walking away without a baby...

Both options sort of suck. But either way, Top Ramen is starting to sound better and better.

Out Of The Frying Pan

I took a pregnancy test yesterday morning. Don't get excited - it was negative. I really didn't think that I would see more than one line, but AF is two days late, and I wanted to drink coffee and alcohol guilt-free. Also I think I'm coming down with an infection (awesome) and I didn't want to worry about scrambling our egg with meds- if you know what I mean. And of course, I know you always do.

I keep all of my TTC paraphernalia in a small storage box in my bathroom linen cabinet, and since January it has been tucked away on the bottom shelf, all the way at the very back. I had to get down on my hands and knees just to reach it. And when I finally pulled it out, it took me a good minute before I could actually open it. I suddenly felt very aware that I was on my hands and knees. Being in that vulnerable position, with that box, and everything it represented instantly flooded my mind with images of the person I used to be.

First the good memories; what it felt like the first time I took a pregnancy test out of that cabinet. The excitement, the realization that I was a grown woman, married, and ready to start my own family. The positive OPK's, and how fun it was to make love because we thought we were creating our family. Then slowly the bad memories crept in; the countless tests with single lines. The disdain I felt for the Dixie cups I used to collect my first morning's urine. The frustration of deciphering how dark the line was on the Internet cheapie OPK. The tears that flowed as I slammed that box back in to the cabinet after yet another BFN. And let us not forget the thousands of calories that I consumed to try to ease the pain. Followed by the deepest depression I've ever known.

I could feel my breath quicken, and I suddenly wanted nothing to do with that box. I haven't looked at it in eight long months. No hpt's not opk's, for the better half of 2010. I was different person last time I saw that box - if I opened it again what would that make me? Is this the beginning of the end of the peace that I've found from our eight month respite? When we move forward with IVF in January, will I lose sight of the strength and balance I've worked so hard to regain?

I read so many of the ALI community's blogs, and I ache as I see some of you in that place where I spent so much of 2008, and 2009. Knee deep in the trenches, overwhelmed with frustration and desperation. But still without the slightest waiver of determination in the quest to become a mother.

In the same distinctive way that some feel lucky to have been dealt the challenge of infertility, myself included, I feel lucky that we didn't have the money to jump right into IVF. Because I wouldn't have had that time to heal so many of the battle wounds, to free myself from the reigns of depression, to loose the 30lbs I gained from eating my feelings. To see how unhealthy I was, and how toxic my addiction to TTC had become to my marriage.

At the end of this month I will attend a seminar given by the man who will most likely become our new RE. And four days after that we'll have phone meeting to get us started on our path to IVF early next year. I feel nothing but bliss with the thought of me possibly being pregnant this time next year, but I'm terrified of losing myself again in the mix of all of it. It's just too damn easy to get swallowed up in the whole process. Expectations vs Results, Realism vs Negativity; I'm four months away from all of it, and already I feel like my strategy's are bullshit.

How did you cope? Did you have plans in place to help manage stress?

Unplugged

Though my husband would emphatically disagree, I have to say how lovely it is to exist in a place without Cell phones or News reports. To spend your day without knowing what time it is, only identifying it in segments related to meals and shut eye. It must be how my dog feels every day.

I'm sorry to say I don't have any pictures for you. I fully intended to spend a significant amount of time capturing the wilderness I spent almost every summer in during my childhood. But I just never got around to it. Productivity had no part in this trip and I'm incredibly thankful for that. I needed that. To shut down. To unplug. To eat. To laugh. To spend time with people I love. It was so nourishing. It was also however, very, very cold. Sweatshirt weather during the daytime, and beanie and parka weather at night. It most certainly dipped well into the low 30's after sunset which is not exactly something I'm used to. I realize I probably sound like a panzy because some of you live in that type of weather, but how often to you sleep outside during it?

I truly enjoy camping. The smell. The quiet. The time we get to spend with my family, it's wonderful. And something about it makes me feel like a kid again. Unfortunately that something is when I have to trek it to the bathroom in the middle of the freezing cold night. There's just something so unsettling about not being able to see further than the beam of my flashlight that I simply cannot contain while I'm up there. Then once I make it safely back to my tent I spend the next twenty minutes or so trying not to think about how easy it would be for someone or something to murder me while I lay helpless, bundled up in my sleeping bag. Some of you will either know exactly what I mean or think I am a complete nut case. But that will never change the fact that when I'm camping, I am afraid of the dark.

Getting away from the hustle and bustle of every day life has reminded me of more than just how liberating it can be to really shut things off for a few days. It's made me realize how this break from ttc has given me a piece of my life back. And I say "a piece", because I still don't feel whole. But at least it's something. A glimmer of who I was, and what I may be again someday in the future. When the noises of infertility don't invade my thoughts and dreams. When I live my day in small segments of time, instead of two week periods that seem to drag on until I realize that actually months, and years have passed.

I admit that in gaining a part of myself back, I've lost the part of me that yearns to spend so much time here. While I miss so many of you that I've come to know so well over the years, it's also a little painful. To see you move on, to see you fail, to see you waiting, like me, for when you've healed enough, saved enough to move on to the next step - whatever that may be. Being slightly removed from all the ups and downs makes me realize how difficult that world is, how consuming and demanding treatments can be. And I'm awe of the strength you each possess. And I'm reminded of the support you've all given me, and how I hope that I've been there for you as much as you've been there for me. I don't mean that to sound like I'm going anywhere, I just feel the need to clarify my absesnce from your comments and lack of posting here. It's an unfortunate struggle between wanting to know every little update in the lives I feel so invested in, and needing a little space from such an all encompassing saga. I hope that makes sense.

Project IF, My Part I

I promise I'm hard at work on my Project IF post, but I've got a little more work to do. In the mean time I feel it's important that I mention the significance of this week - National Infertility Awareness Week. I've been looking forward to it in a way, because I feel like this is "our week" to be a little bit more significant and get some recognition. But I also feel like a total hypocrite because I'm not completely out of the IF closet.

No one at work (outside of my close friends) knows. I've never talked about it on facebook, or any other public forum. I've also only chosen a select few of my friends to tell- and only three of them know about and have access to this blog. And at this very moment I can't think of any other reason than my deep seeded fear of divulging any kind of insecurity - which suddenly seems incredibly lame... I guess I've always been someone that held their cards close, but it feels wrong in a way now because I feel so strongly about advocacy. Yet I can't even be open in real life. Which makes me wonder if I have other friends who might be dealing with this, and like me, have just never opened up about it. What IF they don't know about this incredible blogging community? What IF they are suffering in silence?

I've been thinking about this a lot and how much I wish I could come out to ALL my friends - but I'm just not ready. I want to so badly and the post by Keiko at Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed has brought me very close to wanting to shout it from the roof tops. Please, please PLEASE go check out Keiko's post and video. Oh, and BRING TISSUES.

If you're not familiar with Project IF, please head over to Mel's to learn more and get involved. It's an incredibly significant project that I think we will all benefit from, even if only cathartically.

And just a disclaimer - I don't mean to sound disparaging to those of you who are in the closet as well. I totally understand and appreciate everyone's need for privacy. I just wish I was strong enough to come out and support those who are out as well.

Not Even Close

I've entered the loneliest place in my head yet again. It's the room where everyone has it better than me, and I wonder what we've done in our past lives to deserve all this heartache.

Friday night we went to one of my husbands client's houses for dinner. They have two ADORABLE kids. The oldest, a little girl who took right to me. She made almost constant eye contact with me hoping I was paying attention to whatever she was doing at the moment, and she wore my size 11 flip flops the entire night. Later in the evening, close to her bedtime, she got upset while playing a game and she began to cry. Her mother came over to comfort her, scoping her up into her arms, and whispering softly to ease her pain and turn her tears into laughter again. After a few minutes of rocking and a reluctant smile, mom convinced her to go get her prettiest nightgown on to show me.

"Sorry about that, they just cry really easily when they get tired".

I realize now that by the look I must have had on my face she thought I was upset by the little girl's crying. But I get that, hell I cry when I'm overtired - it was witnessing such a tender moment that killed me. Watching her rock, and whisper her daughters tears away is something I ache for to the very depths of my soul. And on the way home it crushed me even more to realize I'm not even close to being able to do that. I cried myself to sleep that night, and I haven't been able to shake it since. It really feels like it's never going to happen for us.

I know this break is important for healing, but how long is it really going to be? Is it just till we have enough money to actually do something? But what's 'enough' anyway? We've been talking recently about moving on to adoption, and while I'm very open to that, it feels like the more we deliberate over our options the father away we are from taking a real step. I feel lost again.

Thankful Thursday

On a regular basis I try to stop what I'm doing and think about how lucky am, and how great my life is aside from IF. Ceejay did a post recently that reminded me it's been a while since I said those things out loud. So here it goes:

• Being on a break: As batshit crazy as that sounds, I am so incredibly thankful that we had no money therefore were forced to take this break. Okay, I'm not thankful that we don't have any money for A.R.T., but I really think this break was much needed, and so difficult to see through my BFN haze. It's really been a good thing for me, and my marriage. There is a certain freedom that comes with not knowing what cycle day you're on. Almost like being a normal person. Well "normal" is relative, but you know what I mean.


• My Husband: My husband who works so incredibly hard to keep the dollah billz flowing in even through this horrible recession. Being a small business owner is no piece of cake these days, yet somehow he's still managing to keep his shit together. Even outside of his business, he's been working incredibly hard to make things better in our marriage. The last eight months have been really challenging for us maritally speaking. Not all the time or everyday. And not to the point where either of us started making other plans. On the worst days though it seemed like not wanting a divorce, was the only thing we had in common. While we're not quite finished, I'm overjoyed to tell you that after a fair amount of couples therapy and a lot of hard work, we're doing much better. I don't mean that to sound like he was the only one who had work to do. This blog should be all the evidence you need to prove I've got my own brand of crazy. Marriage is work. And sometimes, it's a lot of work. And not something you as a couple can handle alone. Which leads me to my next bullet point.


• Therapy: Alone, together, WHATEVER. I think everyone should have a therapist. We're all a little crazy and if you think you're not, well let me tell you something: The really crazy people- don't know they're crazy. And even if you might not need it now, you should consider it someday. My final word: All ttc and no therapy makes Melissa want to climb up on to a rooftop with a semi-automatic weapon.


• Humor: If we weren't laughing, we'd be crying right? Truer words were never spoken my friends. By the way, the last two sentences in my previous bullet point WERE A JOKE, and I hope I didn't offend anyone, but come on people, you know you've been there too. I digress. What I was going to say is that I've lost count of the amount of times I've come a cross a blog post put up by some of you out there that has completely disarmed me, and left me with tears in my eyes from laughing so hard. And I'm so, so grateful to know it's out there.


• The Internet: I don't even want to think about where I'd be, had I not found this community. Endless resources, and endless support. I love the Internet.
  
• Wei.ght Wat.chers: I'm down another 0.8 lbs. Not what I hoped for, and I'm trying not to beat myself up for such a lame-o drop, but I guess it's better than gaining.


• Friends, fertile or not: Through this hardship I have learned a lot about my friends, and especially what kind of friend I want to be from now on. I've met some amazing people in the IF community. Ones that I hope to know and keep in contact with for the rest of my life. And my IRL friends, fertile as most may be. There are a select few of them that have been absolutely incredible. The awesome ones know of and have access to this blog. The rest of them can suck it. Just kidding. The rest of them just don't get it, and I won't hold that against them because I wonder what kind of friend I would have been had the situation been reversed. I like to think I would have not been a complete asshole, but you never know. Oh, and I'm not completely out of the IF closet, so some of them just don't know about our problem. Though we've been married for almost seven years, so I'm sure they're wondering. P.S. one of my very good IRL friends is going to do a guest post very soon, so stay tuned!
  

Okay, that's not EVERYTHING I'm thankful for, but those are the first few things that floated in to my teeny tiny brain....

What are you thankful for?

Accountability

I'm not sure whether to thank you all, or yell at you for letting me off the hook. What do you mean, what am I talking about?!?! I'm talking about the big fat ass of mine that I was supposed to get rid of three months ago. Remember this post, when I said I had started a diet, and already lost a few pounds, and that I'd put a ticker up shortly?! Well I never put a ticker, and I gained those few extra pounds back in one- Boston-Market-sitting. Man, I could eat their sweet potatoes EVERY. DAMN. DAY. Maybe a with a little side of Mac & cheese. Oh dude, and their Chicken Pot Pie? I'd cut a bitch for their Chicken Pot Pie... It's that good.

Annnnnd that's my problem.

I love food. So, so much. Good day or bad, it's a perfect reason to cook up something comforting. Ten minutes in my kitchen is really much harder on my diet than a half hour at a Burger King. Okay maybe that's not a fair comparison. Fried food is not my problem. I'd pick a wheel of double cream Brie over a plate of fries ANY DAY. Seriously, cheese is one of my weakest spots. Oh and Peanut Butter. I actually don't really care for, nor do I visit fast food places often. So other than my Peanut Butter and cheese habits, portions are my other problem. I'm guilty of eating when I'm not hungry, just cause it sounds good. An extra scoop of rice, so I don't have to dirty a Tupperware container? Why not.

So yes my weight has always fluctuated a bit. In the two years after we got married, I gained a good 35 pounds. It wasn't because I stopped caring - like I didn't have to try anymore because I was married. I actually call it Happy Fat. I was loving life, and cooking my way in to oblivion. Then I joined Weight Watchers and lost 45 pounds. Got back to my high school weight. And I felt really, really good. I gained a little of it back but lost it again in the spring of 2007 because we were going to try for a baby. And when it didn't happen right away things pretty much started to go down hill from there. The depression and heartache I endured was too much at some point and I turned back to food to make me happy.

But I'm ready to do something about it now. And it's not really about the way I look. It's more about the way I feel. I don't feel as good as I do when I'm eating better and exercising regularly. So last week, I started Weight Watchers. Again. And it's going alright. I think the first week is one of the toughest - for me. Getting used to planning every single meal and sticking with the smaller portions is not easy. But I drink my weight in water to avoid an empty stomach, and I stick with my motto for this point in my diet: If you're not hungry; you're not doing it right... A month from now, the portions I'm eating will be more than enough, and making the right choices won't be so difficult. I know that once I loose the amount of weight I want to, I can go back to eating cheese and peanut butter in moderation, and as long as I keep exercising regularly. I used to hate running, but now I love it. It really clears my head.

Anyway, I went in to get weighed this morning. My first week I lost 4.7 pounds at home or 2.8 pounds on the WW scale (with all my clothes on). And if you look up and to your right, you'll see my new weight loss ticker. Just to keep me in line.

Here I go...

Blogher Anyone?

When you're open with your friends about your infertility, it can sometimes negatively effect/impact those relationships. Especially when they get pregnant. You may remember the friends I mentioned who avoided us for several months, then finally called us when they couldn't hide it anymore were twenty weeks along. Then to add insult to injury I never got an invitation to her shower... It was later determined that her mother had used the address list from her wedding (Brian and I were both in the wedding party) which had our old P.O. Box listed, so I never got it. Even though we have gone to see their baby, and Brian and the husband keep in contact, our friendship has never been the same. And occasionally whilst taking stock of things, I'd feel sad about it. But as of last week I feel worse. The husband I spoke of was recently diagnosed with a pretty advanced form of Lung Cancer. He's 34.

It's shocking, and sad. And I have a lot of mixed emotions about it. Brian is taking it pretty hard. It's scary when you start to think about how short life really is, or can be. And thought of cancer has been haunting me lately. Yes, our situation with infertility sucks. But it's not life threatening. I haven't been able to complain to myself about much lately because I keep thinking - at least we're healthy. We're so lucky to be able to say that.

Then today I came across this post from A Year of Slow Cooking's blog. Her best friend' s sister has Breast Cancer. Her best friend also happens to work for a little company called Blogher, and is holding a raffle for those who donate to her sister's fund for medical bills that aren't covered by insurance. The Prize? A Full Conference Pass to the SOLD OUT 2010 Blogher Convention in New York City. Not too shabby.

I'll be the first to speak up about how much infertility sucks, but I think it's only than fair to say that Cancer sucks more.

This one time, in Georgia...

I'm going to go ahead and spoil the end of my post for you right now.

My trip was fucking awesome ya'll.

Better than I had any right to expect. Finally meeting four women in person that I have admired and have been given an immeasurable amont of support from was truly amazing. But I find myself regretful for the short amount of time I had with them. To say my trip was a whirlwind would be a gross understatement, but it was absolutely wonderful. And yes of course, I over packed for it.

Last Friday began with me rolling out of bed at 3:30am. I say "rolling out of bed", because using any other phrase would imply that I actually slept that night. I threw myself together and my wonderful husband got me to the airport by 4:30am for my 6:00am flight. Though the travel time was only about four and a half hours I could hardly sit still. Could that have been from the coffee I drank at home and mocha I guzzled at the airport lounge? Possibly, but I like to think it was out of shear anticpation of finally meeting my friends. By the way, that coffee did me no favors. Just ask the two people sitting next to me about the three separate times I had to ask them to get up out of their seats so I could scoot across the row only to wait in line again for the cramped Lavatory. (I had the window seat. DOH!)

After a fair amount of turbulence during our decent into ATL, we landed safely, and once we were given the go ahead I quickly turned on my phone and a flurry of text messages ensued. "Just landed!! WOOO HOOO". Carli and Melissa greeted me near baggage holding a cute little sign with my name on it. Gawd was I glad to see them... Jamie's flight was delayed a bit, but the time flew by as our cheery conversations rambled on. And once her flight landed we were on our way to dinner and then finally on to the house.

Carli was an exemplary hostess, she made us all feel like we really were at home. Her smile and laughter is merely an extension of her colossal heart. Carli thank you again for taking us all in. You have such a beautiful home, and it's obvious how much love and hard work you and Derek have put into it.

Another great thing about their house? THEY HAVE DOGS!!!!

How could you not LOVE these faces?! I came THISCLOSE to packing them up in my carry on.

I give you Dakota and Murphy, respectively.

Saturday morning began with fresh brewed coffee and a loaf of Cinnamon Streusel bread. Then we were off to site see at the Georgia Aquarium. Which is not just any Aquarium, but the worlds largest I'll have you know. On our way, we spotted this office:

A joke only an infertile would get.

Evidently "Cervical" is another word for your back or spine.

At 550,000 square feet (including the tanks) the aquarium did not disappoint.

This is a Wolf Eel. Fierce, huh?

And what's a tourist trap without a tacky souvenir?

We concluded our Down Town Atlanta viewing with a group photo in Centennial Olympic Park.

(Me, Jamie, Melissa, Carli)

Followed by some more adult like behavoir...

Then we went back to the house and drank.

Okay, it was actually more like this:

After a long day of walking and laughing and talking we headed to the house to make homemade pizza's. (Which by the way, came out PHENOMENAL.) That evening was probably my most favorite part of the trip. This was were we sat around and talked and learned more about each other than just the common affliction that initially brought us all together. Jamie (pictured above) is funny and clever and incredibly sincere. Melissa is kind and thoughtful and the perfect amount of silly. I really could go on and on about the intricate details that make me feel like I've known these women my entire life, but I sort of want to keep that between us. In short, they are more remarkable than I could ever describe and I feel so grateful to call them my friends.

A couple bottles of wine, a box of chocolates, a chick flick and an array of nutty Yo.utube Video's later we all settled in for bed. And before I knew it, it was Sunday morning and time for me to pack up. My ride to the airport would be arriving shortly after 10am. But this ride wasn't just some old airport shuttle, it was a friendly face. Yet another I had only ever seen online. While I have loyaly read her countless brilliant posts, and shared a few emails; meeting her in person was quite an honor. Murgdan arrived at the house promptly at 10:30. After I said my goodbye's and hugged my friends, we headed south to grab a little brunch before I had to be at the airport, and she to a shower. As we headed down Highway 85, we breezily chatted about all the fascinating infertile topics you might suspect while I lost count of the number of Waffle House signs I saw hovering above nearly every exit. And yes, she is just as funny and smart in person as you'd imagine.

Murgdan on the left, me on the right.

(this was not at a Waffle House, btw)

I know this post was extremely long and if you made this far, I owe you one. I really could write a thousand more words about this trip, and it still would not do these ladies justice. Which is the main reason it has taken me almost A WEEK to post it - I swear I've rewritten it a gajillion times. (And this is what she came up with?!) I also struggled with what the title of this post should be, my other option was "The Blogger Went Down to Georgia", but I decided on this one, which I have to give Carli credit for. She said it in one of our many emails regarding this trip.

I want to take a moment to thank all of you for your support over the last few months and even years. I wish I could spend at least a weekend with each one of you. I continue to be awestruck by the countless number of outstanding women I've met here.

And now it's time for me to apologize for my lack of commenting... Things have been REALLY crazy lately so my commenting has been uber lousy - and I'm sorry for that. I've been checking up on most of you, but not had the time to leave a note. Please know I plan to get back on track VERY soon!!!