Big girl panties

I guess I better do something about this situation.  I’m running out of things to write. I’m running out of feelings I have the capacity to talk about.  I need actions to take.  I’ve always been that sort of a person.  It doesn’t matter if it’s mindless or inconsequential.  I need something to do.  I need to convince my dear payday to take this SA.  Yes, he’s already agreed and yes he will do it BUT not if I don’t ask him again.  Not if I don’t set up the appointment.  In other words, not if I don’t make him.  Most things I need…pay does without any prodding whatsoever.  He jokes that he can read my mind and his happy life depends on his happy wife so he does do that (read my mind)…often.  I’m not exactly a talker and he knows me better than almost anyone so he probably knows I want the test on the same level as he knows my insecurities about my large breasts BUT deep down he is scared.  He doesn’t want it to be him.  I’ve changed the appointment and not said anything remotely like a reminder to him about it because…neither do I. *sigh* But as stated, I need some action.  For sanity’s sake because I feel complete insanity is right around the bend if I don’t DO something.  It’s the next step, there is no doctor who will take us around it (once our history is heard) so the step must be taken.  I have to grab his hand and take a step that both of us are afraid will lead to a somehow deeper pit of infertility. How in the hell can there be a even deeper pit? I know people do and I marvel at them but HOW does anyone manage a deeper rabbit hole than 4 years of this state of being?  It doesn’t matter, my entire self is unable to stand still any longer.  A step must be taken no matter what direction, even if it is the last step taken for a long time, I have run out of feelings I can deal with any other way but with action.  Till next time.

One Girl’s tale of a Miscarriage (Part 2)

So after that…we did exactly what we said we wouldn’t do, got right on the phone with our parents and told them we were pregnant.  To say they were ecstatic would just be an understatement.  I felt fine…mighty fine J  I started to have some painful urination and I called my doctor for treatment options for a UTI…we had seen the heartbeat just a week before but I knew…I just knew something was wrong.  We got to the office, and she gave me an ultrasound and our little lump’s heart beat no more.  It was excruciating and I cried the kind of tears that give you headaches afterward.  That’s all I can put to this part…it still hurts to this day.  I still pick at the wound with my mind.  What did I do?  How could I have stopped it? It got easier but somehow not less painful.  I thought it meant, we could get pregnant and it was at least a good sign in that way but I still often think “What if the only miracle we get in fertility is the one we can’t hold?”  Please God let me hold my miracle.

One Girl's tale of a miscarriage (Part 1)

Sometimes I forget about my miscarriage.  That sounds awful to me, like it was somehow not the colossal event it should have been.  The thing is I don’t think “forget” is really the word but there’s not really another one that fits.  The closest I can come is to say that sometimes…it doesn’t seem like I was ever close.  Sometimes I go back through the years and the memorable events in a sort of methodical mental rewind so that my heart can grab on to the realness of being pregnant for that sweet 9 weeks and 1 day.  I do not have the date written or cemented anywhere for this exact reason.  It will never be one of those memories tossed out of my mind like someone’s name or the outfit of an interesting stranger.  I can…right now almost 5 years later…go back to the calendar and find the date through this method because although the date left my mind willingly enough…everything before and after it is crystalized in some sort of infertile slow motion.  I can start right now with what I know to be true today skip several years to what I know to be true in 2012…then zoom in until I get to that fateful day in 2009 when I heard the silence in my womb and cried.  There literally are no words but somehow…there’s a story. 

So we had been trying for almost a year.  I was consumed by the craziness of TTC up to that point.  I had several tearful CD1s…looking back I imagine if I could have even ever glimpsed what has become of my TTC journey and stayed sane.  I guess there’s a reason God does not let us see how hard something will be.  Anyway, I was working as an accounting associate at a very stressful and unstable job.  It was the height (what I hope was the only peak anyway) of my son’s asthma.  It was just a hard time.  One day my boss calls me into his office and tells me they are letting me go.  They “need more collectors and though you are the best analyst we've ever had we need less analysis and more collections at this time” he says.  I am devastated.  I call payday and he says for me not to worry and to just come home.  I do.  When I get there he has food prepared and says he will go get the kids.  He tells me to go back to school.  He says that I am awesome and I should “get some damn rest for once”.  That man of mine J.  Anyway, I wipe my tears…decide he is absolutely correct and enroll that day in a local Christian university.  I am so happy to be back in school…I can’t even describe it.  Payday continues to work, and I am able for the first time in years to pick my kids up from school not daycare!  They are in second grade now…and oh the drama J  I love every second of it, can’t really believe I’ve been missing this for a paycheck and a boss that yells too much.  The weeks go on and I feel like I can breathe from trying to conceive right now.  I’m laid off…back in school…nobody (even me) would expect us to be trying to have a baby right now. 

Then what do you know…just like all the saps who don’t mean us any harm but cut us to the quick anyway say…it happened while I was least expecting it.  I am a couple of days late…weird.  If there is anyone out there who started at the beginning of this blog they know…it’s more than weird.  It’s pretty near unbelievable.  I am never ever late. So, I get up the next morning and take a test and it’s positive.  I run out jump on the bed to a bleary eyed payday and exclaim “We did it! Oh my God…he did it! We did it…we are going to have a baby!!!!”  It takes him several seconds to blink away whatever dream he was in the midst of and then his whole face…his whole being lit up..”Are you sure?”…I hand him the test, kiss him…go snatch some cash and head to the local drug store.  15 minutes later we are looking at 3 tests and two digital all confirming that…there is a miracle in my belly.  I’m going to leave you with that today.  This is a two part story if there ever was one but mostly…I want to leave you with that picture because I want to separate it from what comes next.  Right now, at this part of the story I get to be something I haven’t had a chance to be again afterward so far…pregnant.

Hope

Hope

 

What a weird thing that is.  Hope.  There are all these movies that say hope is one of the greatest assets of the human race.  It can propel you towards goals not physically possible without it.  I guess up until IF I agreed with this whole heartedly.  Being an open realist, I never had much idea how much closeted optimism I house.  I think it’s mostly because of faith.  Everything I’ve seen of God and his touch in my life has made me full of hope, love, and charity.  At least I think that’s true…hope that’s true.  There is another side to hope though.  It is pretty much uncontrollable for instance.  I have been going through cycle after cycle (after cycle) without much of it.  I mean still sad sometimes don’t get me wrong but a sarcastic (if not bitter) “pretty much what I expected” thought with every recurring CD 1. 

Today, out of nowhere hope rears her pretty little head and says “What CD are you on?” and then “Doesn’t it seem different this month?”.   I have been doing an absolutely stellar job of not obsessing.  I have a fairly good idea of when I ovulated this month and am about 50/50 on whether the baby dance was done in that window.  This cycle I am full of “Eh…whatever”.  Now she says “what if you are pregnant right now?” and it does not feel good to hear it.  There was a time when I would think “what if I’m pregnant?” and get all kinds of great fluttery happy feelings everywhere but that time seems like forever ago.  I believe I may have sent that question to die with “What if you’re NOT pregnant LIKE ALWAYS and you start thinking you are again??”  Yep, shot it dead. 

The hope.  I missed it and at the same time was glad to see the peak of hope go so that I might try to live on through the valley of disappointment.  Anyway, here it is today without any prompting from me.  There’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I can’t undo hope, she does what she wants.  All I can do is pray that she is right, if not now…eventually.

 

Until we meet again…

Epic

 

I’ve been thinking (you probably see that I tend to do too much of that).  There is an epic amount of everything in IF.  Don’t you think so?  It seems like there’s just too much of every damn thing.  It’s too much heartbreak, too much sorrow, too much hope, too much monotony.  Looking for a rarity in biology, (a 15% chance after 30 and rolling steady downward after that) that is even more rare in your case (for whatever your reasons are) means that we are steadily looking at rules instead of exceptions.  We are even looking at (and analyzing) the hope for those exceptions.  The hope itself is in enormous quantity.

 At the same time that we have these millions of couples out here struggling to conceive, we have millions more (what seem like billions to us) blasting their successful rarities…what we know to be true miracles…in top quality surround sound and 3D pictures to match.  It is a lot.  Epic.  If I had to describe infertility to anyone in one word, that would be it.  Everything about it is huge.  All things going into it and coming out of it (whether you end up with a baby or not) are gargantuan. Every baby on the planet and in the womb is somehow in the mix. Them and everything about conception HAS to be in the mix. 

 Millions of sperm (if you’re lucky), one egg (if you’re lucky), and one hope for a purposeful meeting of the two…and finally you watching it not happen as many times as it takes or until you (or your body) give up.  I have had around 55 unsuccessful cycles. 55.  FIFTY FIVE.  I have a lot of patience and I still believe I have a lot of faith but the truth is I might not have enough of ANYTHING to keep my sanity against the enormous epic of EVERYTHING that is infertility. 

Thank God it’s not me alone.  This is where I pray because I need something more than I got to fight for what I want.

 

Till next time…

 

Things you do...

There’s a juxtaposition of infertility and life.  When you start it just seems that it will be a part of your life…not adjacent to it.  My life runs a course that includes infertility but it is somehow a state of being totally separate from me.  Let’s take today for example.  I am CD 3, marginally uncomfortable, irritable and carrying about 5 lbs of water weight.  So not a happy camper even if I wasn’t trying to conceive because as you can see from previous posts, my period generally sucks rotten eggs.  I am carrying a wistful type of sorrow as an old friend of mine (a doctor actually) is pregnant with her third child.  She is over the moon happy about it and I don’t feel bitter about that…just kind of achy in old places.  I have not used opks in a couple of months because frankly there is no need but I am thinking maybe I should start temping (feels a little bit redundant but such is the life of us cycle hounds).

 Anyhow, at the same time as all of the above, I am pretty busy at work during this portion of the month.  Also in the middle of my three month goal check process (I assess professional goals for myself every quarter on my own) in an attempt to make strides toward a project management role I’ve wanted pretty much my whole life.  I am exercising four or five times a week and getting ready for a trip to the beach in a couple of weeks.  Can you see a clear separation of my psyche?  There is a duality of thought here that creates a million dimensions to my entire being. That is on its best day…tiring.  I am not aware of consciously deciding on courses of action based on whether I get pregnant or not.  I don’t really think I do that (not anymore at least which is kind of sad).  I think I try to get pregnant but live my life beside/adjacent of trying to get pregnant.  Does that make sense?  I don’t prepare my life to get pregnant. I am professionally going up mountains as if I hadn’t even considered something so ulterior to my professional and physical goals as a baby but I am trying (though failing) diligently every single day to throw a baby in there.  It never leaves my mind.  So, I’ve concluded that life is just one of those things…it’s one of those things IF people do while they try to get pregnant.  Go figure.

So...yeah

I forgot about ovulation.  I did.  Like not on purpose…not the “relax and let live” then do all but bulls eye the date in your mind technique.  I know that I haven’t ovulated yet…but I have not counted and seen when I WILL ovulate.  Every time I say “Ok, I need to see what day I ovulate”  I never actually make it to the calendar.  Unfortunately, this is not the what will be will be acceptance that would be a step in the right direction.  I am simply too tired to count.  I am not misdirecting myself from the calendar or trying to think of other things to stop myself from counting…I am simply exhausted of counting and cataloging.  I am overcome with heavy tiredness whenever I attempt to count.  All of this might be good if it also meant I cared less…just a little less…whether I get pregnant or not.  Of course this is not the case,  every fiber still wants to be pregnant, every announcement still stings this cycle BUT I simply do not have the energy needed to go into the routine.  What does that mean I wonder?  Is this going to be a new state of being?  Will I now be forced to endure the cross purposes of desire and exhaustion?  As I am typing this I know I will figure out when I ovulate today but I am worried that the reason for this tiredness is that…I don’t want to try.  I am really tired of trying.  I can’t be tired of trying because I’m nowhere near giving up.  My innerself and my body are in completely different places (not unusual in the fertility world) and I have no idea how to get them on the same page.  I’m just so damn tired.