Exhale Magazine

Just found this. Read the entire first issue and will continue. Made C read Spooge Emissions and he laughed hard, took a bath, claimed he was cleaning it, and laughed some more about the Clomid Monster. Seriously, if you want a window into this infertility/loss community, this is a well-written place to start.

The Infertile Scrooge

There is nothing quite like paying someone $25 to tell you that you aren't pregnant. Just kidding, I have been trying to suck it up through this bladder infection which resulted in a short trip to urgent care this afternoon. Nothing detected, but medication was doled out, and oh, I'm not pregnant. Starting my period a few days ago didn't clue me in to that reality, but hey, while you have my urine back there and are testing it for blood and/or bacteria, dump some on a pregnancy test too. I'm not upset because I realize that this is just what they do. Protocol. Anyway, I'm tired of not feeling well. Very tired of not being pregnant. So ready for Christmas to be over - call me the Infertile Scrooge.

I Pee on Things Less than Others

Really, I do. Our dog Boris, pees on everything. Most potty-trained men aren't 100% accurate with the toilet. I only take the occasional pregnancy test or ovulation test. I haven't taken either this cycle, but can still give a definitive answer: I am not pregnant and I did not ovulate (probably). Just thought you'd all want to know about my peeing habits.

I haven't been thinking about any of this stuff near as much as I thought I would. Graduating had to give way to a new obsession, but thankfully it seems to not be all of this infertility nonsense. I hope it stays this way.

In other news, I have a master's degree now. I think. They should let me know. For some reason, I thought that this degree was no big deal. When I graduated with a bachelor of arts, I knew that I wanted more education. I found a program I liked, they made it easy to enroll and attend classes. I did the work and got the degree. The only reason I even looked into a graduate program at this point in my life was because I needed a distraction. From what? Guess. Anyway, I didn't think much of this accomplishment. My parents do. They told my grandparents, who think this is a real big deal. A nice card and a nice check - type of big deal. Apparently, I am the only grandchild on either side to obtain a graduate degree.

So, my current obsession is all about boots. These and these came yesterday. I am keeping the first pair even thought they are a bear to get on - even with the world's longest shoehorn. The second pair are getting returned (for free - love zappos.com) and we're looking at cowboy boots this weekend. It is a temporary obsession, but good for now.

And It Should Be Done

I should be working on my MLA portfolio presentation, but for the moment I am done with the portfolio part. Seriously, the presentation part is 5-10 minutes, how hard could it be? I'm trying to figure out whether or not I have the nerve to talk about my Infertility project or if I want to discuss the Perinatal Hospice project. Both are valid options and possibly part of my theme (I'm going back and forth between a journey-type of idea or a better-version-of-myself-thanks-to-your-program type of thing). What I can't say is that the program did not meet my goals. They actually asked that question on my exit survey, but they were smart enough to slip the word academic in before goals completely changing the meaning and allowing me to respond in the affirmative. Because my real goal for this master's program was to get pregnant. Sleep with the professor, you ask? Nope. Amp up the love in the bedroom (somehow?)? Nope. It's really much more simple than either of those: I thought that by creating an very inconvenient schedule/life for a pregnancy/baby to appear in, that it would reverse jinx all of this infertility trouble. Okay, I didn't really think that at all, but I kind of hoped - isn't inconvenience the reason that the universe impregnates high schoolers and flirty college girls and crack whores? Wait, that's some sort of freaking biology? Better go over, in detail, how babies are made again. I think that I might have forgotten. And if you mention a petri dish, would you also include a price tag so that I know exactly how much said baby(ies) will cost before they are conceived?

Anyway, my only other concern (as outlined to AM yesterday) is what is next. If I didn't start this master's program in order to jinx the universe into getting me pregnant, then at least I'll admit to signing up for a welcome distraction (and the M.A. - I also want a Ph.D). When the distraction is gone, as of 6pm tonight, what will the new obsession be? This worries me. It didn't worry me until two or three years ago when I realized that I am always obsessed about something. I'm worried that my obsession will veer towards adoption, which we probably aren't ready for, or doula training, which I'm not sure my heart and mind are ready for. AM made two very decent suggestions that I plan on researching, but if they don't pan out, what am I left with? *Thanks for the awesome info about BB&BS, CB (girl C), I really appreciate it. I'll do some more research and sleep on it for awhile - I need to figure out if it's really for me.

Anyway, I'm jumping on LG's bandwagon (though not explicitly invited) and going to my picture file on the computer, fourth folder, fourth picture, and

This is funny to me. Angel Fire, New Mexico, in January 2008: vacation with my parents and sister. This is C and me (he's in a shirt my mom bought him and no, you can't see my underwear because I am wearing long underwear). From the clothing and expressions I can tell that this is the one day we went snowboarding and were absolutely exhausted. Look who is holding the tv remote. I tag her, her, her, and her. Remember, picture area, fourth folder, fourth picture - mostly just to amuse me.

*Okay, it is all over now. I gave my rambling presentation about how I was drawn to women's issues and did two spectacular projects: Infertility and Perinatal Hospice. Not great, not awful, and hopefully good enough to get me the piece of paper and letters behind my name.

Congratulations, I Am So Very Angry With You

So I know there is a bigger picture: other people, other families, other countries, other women. But I have my world in perspective. I know what I want. When you get what I want, you piss me off. I'm not in such a great state of mind anyway, but your pregnancy announcement is going to push me over the edge. I haven't quite figured out why I am so very angry at you. Perhaps it is just because you are pregnant. That you already have a beautiful daughter. I know that I am petty enough to be jealous. Or, I could be angry because you cornered me a number of months ago with, "I heard that you were having trouble getting pregnant," because you have had trouble too. You wanted to hear my story and you said that I could talk to you if I ever needed to. You kept up with where we were going as you weren't sure if you would be able to have a second child, due to the fact that the first was a miracle of sorts. I could be angry because I presumed that there was some type of bond between us and that if the time came, you would follow infertile-friend-protocol and pull me aside to tell me that you are pregnant. Not that you would bring a cake into my office and share with all of us at the same time the wonderful news. That could have really irritated me. I have had women I work with that I'm not even close to tell me their news in a more private, caring way. So, even though I work with you and am forced to be civil, I don't have to be nice to you. I definitely don't have to be caring--you sure weren't. But let me tell you just how much I did not need yours great news right now. Congratulations and everything, etc., but please just crawl into a hole and go away (or I might be forced to). That raises the tally to four pregnancies in the year I have worked at this job, and let me tell you what, it is not contagious.

Sometimes it Really is All About Money

Not sure what to say about the last two weeks or to those that follow this journey. The last two weeks have been very stressful in a moneymoneymoney way. I think what kicked it all off was when I arrived home and C asked me if I wanted the good news or the bad news. I'm a bad news first type of girl, and perhaps that is why I still don't remember what the good news was. Bad news was that the washing machine had died, really and truly. It was secondhand anyway three years ago when we acquired it and C had repaired it and replaced the belt no less than twenty times. Our washing load was too much for it. So we went to Lowe's, Home Depot, and eventually Nebraska Furniture Mart. Priced washers. Tried to figure out the best deal and model for our lifestyle. Maybe now is the time to mention that practically everything we own is secondhand. I married a plumber-mechanic-electrician-jackofalltrades. This works for us. Then we bought the bullet and bought a brand new washer/dryer Whirlpool combo. Front loaders and super efficient, so they say. Now we have to pay for it, stressor number one.

The situation before the washer and dryer was already bleak in the extra-money-every-month-for-treatments ballgame. Now, it's improbable. At least for a few months, stressor number two. I'm graduating with my master's degree this month, which means that student loans (for both B.A. and M.A.) come due in June, stressor number three. Same night that the washer broke, I looked at our bank account online and saw that a certain retail store that I had ordered about $100 worth of clothing from had debited our account seven times. Eight hundred dollars is not what I was expecting when I ordered $100 worth of clothing. Phone calls were made, promises, and everything was fixed two days later (two days too late, in my opinion), stressor number four. The university I am receiving my master's from just sent me a letter that I owe them $1500. Really? So again, I called. It isn't fixed yet, and I'm still a little stressed due to the fact that my graduation hinges on the holds on my account being removed, but in combing through my account, there is $2000 unaccounted for. I have no idea why it was debited from my account, especially when I can line up each and every other charge and credit. They take the days around Thanksgiving off, so this will be fixed soon, stressor number five.

With graduation comes a final portfolio and presentation. I sent off an email asking more detailed questions about what is required because all of the guidelines given are incredibly hazy. This all happens next week. In the meantime, I have to complete my final project for photography by Thursday. When does this all go away?

While everything is fine and well afforded, none of these leave stressors are helping my outlook. I think that I have come to terms with no treatments for a few months, but I can't help wondering when they will resume. So many people have sweetly commented that I could just get pregnant, naturally, right? There is nothing officially hindering that, besides spotty ovulation and some recent male factor issues, and yes, conception has happened once before (two years ago, for those keeping track). There is a chance, a very tiny chance, one that would have to one-up all the medications and treatments that have been tried and failed the past two years. So, regarding all of that information, without treatments, conceptions seems very unlikely. Treatments give me a small amount of hope, so for a few months, that is what I am losing. When we are actively involved in treatments and procedures, it becomes much easier to be nice and empathetic to those in the midst of pregnancies or with newly hatched babies. In the time periods when hope is at it's lowest, it becomes more difficult. I'm not sure that makes any sense, but it does make this time for me a little more sensitive and possibly defensive.

Infertile Ramblings of Surety

A. I smiled at a negative pregnancy test. Why? Did I finally lose it? No, it was something I expected and am used to, which is a semblance of control. And I can go get hopelessly drunk now. Because that is the type of girl I am. It still disturbs me that I smiled. I'm thinking it was a sick, twisted reaction.

B. The combination of the little white pills and the hormones put on a showcase of pregnancy symptoms. Thank you for the continuing hot flashes, spotting, nausea, ravenous appetite, random crying, and the incredibly sensitive, well, headlights. I appreciate the symptoms of pregnancy without actually experiencing a pregnancy more than you'll ever know.

C. Which could have been a reason behind my first pregnancy dream. I've had the one where I gave birth to a puppy (and everyone thought it was normal) and I gave birth to twins (G-B, Clarity and Pacer), but I don't recall one where I was pregnant. In this dream I knew that I was between seven and eight months along. I looked down and could see my belly as I rested my right hand on it. I tried to go back to sleep after that dream in order to erase it, but unfortunately, I remember it with cruel clarity.

D. I was so hopeful when our new health insurance was announced that it *might* *possibly* cover a little more of the treatment side of infertility. The giant folder came out Tuesday and IVF and all other conception assistance is completely uncovered. One of the gals at work went over to the Q&A with the insurance people and reported to me that coverage is nearly the same as our current insurance: 50/50 coinsurance after a $500 deductible on diagnostic procedures and absolutely no coverage for treatment. Same boat, new lake.

E. While a co-worker was yapping about how her stepdaughter was trying to have a second baby, she mentioned that the couple had been trying for a year and went to get tested. They found out that the wife wasn't ovulating, and that the husband has "amazing" sperm. I opened my big mouth to comment "Yeah, that can change," and the co-worker retorted that he'd already fathered their first child. Yeah, it can still change. I didn't care for any "blame" in the situation to be placed on the wife (okay, perhaps I was internalizing a little bit at this point) automatically. Sperm count can be just as fickle as ovulation. Then, my co-worker proceeded to jeer at me (yes, JEER) "Oh, is that C's problem?" and repeated "A, is that why you aren't pregnant yet?" with a shitty grin on her face. I am a rude and brutal truth teller and fortunately, avoided answering the question in a loud, brash way that would make her feel worse than she made me feel. I said nothing to this stupid woman that I have wavered in sharing parts of my story with. I am so glad that I did not share anything with her. And I am saddened that someone with her history (four miscarriages and then a hysterectomy/relatives she loves having trouble conceiving) could be so impertinent and condescending. All in all, a clear sign not to trust her.

F. While I have opinions about our future president, apparently our country chose the candidate they thought best out of the paltry selection afforded us. Since that is said and done, I will merely state that my concerns regard our jobs and our house. So long as we have our jobs (and while they aren't necessarily in jeopardy, each could be reduced in hours), we can pay our bills, and so long as we can pay our bills, we will be fine. Those are my concerns. C, on the other hand, seems to be carrying the burden of -what if- on his shoulders. What if we lose our jobs, the economy fails, we lose our house, other countries attack, guns are taken away, etc. His father is somewhat of a conspiracy theorist, so he comes by these concerns honestly. I was waiting for him to inform me that now was a particularly bad time to have kids, but when, after said waiting, I brought it up, all he said was that he hadn't thought of that.
*The implications of all of this are that treatments are probably still going to be afforded, but the only comforting reality I've allowed myself, that of adoption, is probably getting pushed farther from reach. I have always wanted to adopt, which is to say that I always wanted children, only that for a few years I had no interest in bearing them. C is opposed for many reasons that I don't find valid; the cost involved is one and the analysis of us is another. Suddenly the cost becomes a valid reason in this economy. Yuck.

G. Those of you that know me can laugh if you wish, but I've grown this belly. I am assuming that it is only noticeable to me, but am terrified that if it becomes visible to anyone else that there will be questions, statements, and quite possibly, rumors. I can't handle that. Really, I can't. So even though I have done exactly what C requested and gained five pounds in order to thrust me into a healthier weight range, I refuse to continue to do so if the ramifications terrify me. Which really just means that I should engage in some type of exercise to tone up, strengthen, and build muscle mass. It would be a healthy thing to do and it should get rid of the pseudo-pregnant belly.

Where We Are At Now

There have been family issues - that have been remedied, I think.
Friends are having family issues.
A series of almost-really-bad occurrences ALMOST happened.

There was a big money fight with C, during which I was called a liar (he then took it back because I didn't lie, I just was not forthcoming with certain information).

We had to make the decision to cancel IUI #2, which came after much discussion of options, money, and possible scenarios. Unfortunately, it also came after I took all of that psychotic medication. Which my body is now paying for.

IUI #2 got rather complicated anyway, with both of us slated to be out of town on the day of the follicle scan. So the clinic said we could do an ovulation predictor test everyday starting at CD 10 or 11. Which saved us a couple hundred dollars in follicle scanning, but also means that the IUI was not scheduled and instead was going to happen the day after I had a positive OPK. My initial worry was that I wouldn't be able to read the OPK - they are seriously subjective. Where pregnancy tests are positive if there is so much as a watermark of a line, OPKs are only positive if the test line is as dark as or darker than the control line. Two lines mean nothing in OPK world. And quite frankly, I have never seen a positive one (because I don't regularly ovulate). But, it turns out all the worrying was for nothing, because the first morning I took an OPK, it was positive. I had to ask both AM and C, but it was positive. Also positive the next afternoon. What OPKs detect is an LH (lueteinizing hormone) surge that theoretically occurs 24-36 hours before ovulation (which is why IUI #2 was going to be scheduled the day after the first positive). Whereas before, the follicle scan preceded the HCG shot, which forced ovulation and preceded IUI #1 by 24 hours, this second one was going to be more of an on-call process. Which is stressful and probably not worth the money saved from the scan. Besides, I want to know how many follicles I have in any given cycle. Something to be proud of. And monitoring is very good . . .
Especially in the case that you begin experiencing pelvic pain and start thinking about OHSS (google it - we pay for infertility in so many ways). I did not have OHSS, but the pain yesterday was not fun and I became informed about the various symptoms of OHSS and helpful hints. Anyway, like I said, circumstances arose that made us decide not to do IUI #2. So I get my break early and now get to focus on coming down off the hormones.

I'm just surviving right now. Not really focused on anything. Maybe a little too focused on myself. I've been tired (thank you time change) and work has been really stressful. My one class left (photography) has been semi-interesting and not upsetting. I haven't really thought about where we are going to go from here treatment-wise. I figure we'll pick up the IUI game sometime in January after we (hopefully!) head to MN to see friends and family. The holidays have been a little difficult the past two years and I'm sure they will be loads of fun this year. Everyone, like me, is ready for a little bit of news to be happy about.

Sorry about the scatterbrained post - it's all I've got for now and I was more concerned about documenting the decisions and protocol and keeping those of you that care in the loop.

Friends, Food, & a Baby

We just had the best kind of evening. My best friends from the olden days came over with their wives and baby and we ate. That's really all I ask out of life: good company, good friends, good food, and healthy babies. Not much. It was the first time I've seen these two boys together in, oh, seven years - since graduating from high school. Thankfully, we are all friends outside of any threesome that was created, and have so remained. I'm thinking that I got lucky because I count their wives among my friends too. Anyway, we had a wonderful evening as we laughed, talked, reminisced like old friends do. I hope that we realized that it has been far too long.

Ever sensitive about the passing of time changing people, I had to notice how we have all, in our own ways, finally become adults. We are at peace with being mature (most of the time) and responsible. We are a different kind of friends that have expanded our friendships so that they include the mates we have chosen. And of the little baby, we all adore him because he is a part of T & K, whom we also adore. We are those people that get married young, settle down, work hard, and expect joy out of life. It is a wonderful group of people to be a part of and I cherish the friendships that I had with T & E, and now the ones developing with K & R.

Goal Outside both Grasp and Reach

Can you at least tell when I started it that I had no intention of writing an infertility blog? Sure you can; I was pregnant at the onset of all of this. Which means that the beginning was the first of many experiences in deception. Because, two years ago, there we were, stressed out (freaked out), but pregnant. And everything was going to be okay. Then it wasn't. Everyone said that they knew someone who had miscarried, which they have due to the common occurrence of it, who had then gotten pregnant two weeks later, two months later, and a longer amount of time was never mentioned. Two years later, anyone?

I know those bloggers that detail each cycle from the moment they stopped BC and started TTC. I haven't done that because it would depress me. However, I know that we have racked up six clomid cycles in a year and one failed IUI. On to IUI #2. I never thought I would see that acronym on my blog. Is a girl allowed a small amount of time to worry yet? When additional measures have been taken repeatedly and failed, my crazy optimism regarding WHEN we will be pregnant and have children starts to slide into the dangerous realm of IF. *Not IF: infertility, after all, we are already there; IF: if we are going to be pregnant and have children.

I took some me time yesterday to absorb the negative result and will call the clinic on Tuesday to let them know that we would like to do a second IUI this next cycle. I am doing better today. I really just feel so out of control and powerless. I can't control this at all. Nothing we do makes any difference at all. I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to help our chances. And I definitely don't know how to keep my mouth shut, so please don't be too disappointed with the outcome all you supportive hopefuls; I really appreciated every kind encouraging word and I think that they made this cycle a little bit easier.

The Wonderful C

In long overdue fashion, I present the creator of my fabulous sperm (which will someday result in offspring), mister C. He is my husband, my friend, my provider, my sex god (think On the Bright Side, I'm Now the Girlfriend of a Sex God), father of my puppies, future father of my children, and all-around great guy (don't lie, I know some of you have climbed in his lap to share a few thoughts with him while drinking - I won't name any names . . .). This is a man I get angry with a lot. I start fights with him. I call him out on projects he doesn't finish, how he spends his time, where he spends his money, and whether or not he loves me and needs to trade me in for a breastier, functioning model. I am neurotic, mind you. After seven years together, almost four married, I adore this man. He gets a little creeped out when I sit there and just stare at him. For me, his face represents all kindness, strength, gentleness, and love to me and I just love to look at him. It's been a while now, and there is an ebb and flow to the adoration, but what surprises me is the passion. I'm either so very deep in love or so incredibly angry at the man, and rarely spend any time in the in between. We are just not mediocre.

All of these things I write about, experiences, procedures, feelings, are everything C has to deal with on a daily basis. He has to deal with me. He deserves a medal (some high school friends of mine have insinuated as much). He has held my hand and my head up through a failed pregnancy, miscarriage, D&C, charting, doctor's appointments with no answers, how many cycles of the magic white pills (which, if I have not mentioned, make me crazy and prone to hot flashes), and he's now provided his, uh, contribution (really, the best sounding word I have found so far) in a sterile container TWICE. More to come possibly. He tells me the truth and somehow he sees me in a different way than anyone else does. He still loves me and still holds my hand. We both realize that what we've been through could have created an unbridgeable valley between us. I'm not saying it has been easy - it hasn't. But I'm not sure how I would have survived any of this without him. He is my rock.

Before I went and blabbed on here about all these procedures we were doing, I made sure that C didn't feel emasculated. That he was okay with me sharing. I asked whether or not he wanted to keep the IUI secretive and he said that he didn't care so long as this procedure increased our chances for getting a baby. I've never wondered about whether C wanted children or if I was just talking him into them. He wants this just as badly as I do. He's much less selfish because I know he watches me crumble sometimes and that he wants this for me just as much as he wants it for himself. I think we know that we will be okay if we are not blessed with children; that it will change everything and we will have to make some really big decisions together. I do have to remind him how important all of this stuff is to me, but I know he's always in it with me. I am not alone.

I think I have mentioned before, and it bears repeating, that C was the catalyst in my life that completely changed my mind about having children. As soon as it became serious, all I was one-hundred percent sure that I wanted to have his babies. That is one of the difficult parts that has evolved. I now understand that any child could be our child and that family building is accomplished in so many different ways. I still really want to make babies with the man I love, but you see, I think we are strong enough that we could create a family any way we chose. My God, I love this man and I cannot believe that he's sticking it out just to be with me.

Retracting Bitterness

Please forgive my pettiness. I can explain why I react the way I do, but it does not excuse me writing hurtful things after perceived hurts. Does that make any sense? I did not mean to hurt any one's feelings or drag anyone out on display for blatant insensitivity. What happens, is that somehow I collect these things people say. They may not realize they have said anything hurtful, but somewhere within me it registers. And when it gets to be too much, I feel the need to expel it and well, the result is the post below. Here is the thing though, 90% of the people who have ever said any of these things are actually trying to help in a strange way. They are trying to make my difficulty having children relatable, or even fixable. Some love me so much that they try and understand the steps we are taking and how we feel about them. So, I am sort of back-pedalling and sort of calling out take-backs and kind of justifying what I wrote all at the same time.

For those of you that love me so much that you are afraid of hurting me: thank you for caring so much. No, you don't have to be so careful because I know your heart and that your intentions are pure. If and when you have ever said something hurtful, I have felt hurt, let it go, and reminded myself that I should be extra careful not to say something insensitive to you. Which I do all the time and I am so very sorry. My mouth can run away and it is something that I am working on. For those of you like this, I cherish your encouragement and the hope you hold for me so very much. I appreciate you. I am so sorry if I left you feeling attacked. So I couldn't just leave it at that. Because I love you too.

Frustrated Anger Ball? Sometimes.

I am a grown up, so I went to my eye doctor appointment today. See, I made the appointment because I can’t focus on faces at a distance (or the tv, or street signs) and it was getting both annoying and a little creepy. Sure enough, I need glasses. Not to advertise infertility at all, I mentioned the little white pills only because the paper that comes with them notes that one side effect could be blurred vision. Interesting, the doctor said. He googled “little white pills,” found them, and agreed with me that since the effects are rather temporary (even the intended effect of ovulation) that so should any vision impairment be temporary. But, since I had noted earlier that I had completely passed my driver’s license eye exam two or three years ago and then my vision seemed to get worse, he was a little curious. The google search turned up some very specific information about blurred vision on specific cycle days in relation to taking the little white pills and that regular vision should be restored within three days of stopping the pills. Since I had attempted to avoid any awkwardness by stating, “what about the little white pills I take for infertility?” I had thought that perhaps the doctor wouldn’t comment, or at least not comment rudely. He didn’t. He asked me if it was frustrating. And it is. The diagnosis (official or unofficial) of what I can only hope is subfertility, the whole trying and trying and trying to get pregnant through any and all means part, and watching babies, children, and pregnancy come so easily to others. It is frustrating. Thanks for asking.

I think I have received some flack lately in regard to my comments about how easy it is for some people. I know that life is not truly easy for anyone, but what I am actually commenting on are those couples that find the hardest six months of their lives the ones that they were trying to get pregnant. Seriously. Those that feel the need to share with me that they know exactly how I feel because it took them a long time to get pregnant too (four months c’mon!) irritate me. But I have found that there is nothing I can say to shock them out of this way of thinking. Even little comments like “Try two years . . .” (which I realize is still only a drop in the bucket for some who have been on this road far longer than I) don’t work. Some people just need to face that for them, getting pregnant was easy, for them, carrying a baby to term was easy. I mean easy in that THEY DID IT JUST FINE. They never had to wonder about how they were going to get pregnant, whether there was a problem, how much money it would take, and hell, whether it was a fixable problem. Sure they were concerned about miscarriage and other assorted tragedies happening to baby in the womb, but nothing did, and quite frankly, that means that life for them is still very much charmed. They may, sort of, understand what it is that I think, wonder, and am forced to face on a daily basis, if perhaps a very close friend or relative is experiencing something similar. But unless it happens to you (and God forbid it ever does – I wish this mental state on no one), and please mark my words, you will never know. You will never wonder about your legacy the way that I worry about mine and you will never know what it is like to lose a baby or the large majority of your hope. This is probably coming from an ugly place, possibly a very jealous place. I would give a hell of a lot to gain the charm and hopefulness back. Just don’t argue with me about your experience being easy unless you have a real tragedy to bring to the table. Especially if you are currently in a place where you could reach out a touch your child, or walk into the next room and kiss them.

So do not, under any circumstances, tell me:

“You have no idea what it’s like to have kids – just wait.” I can’t even address this civilly, so I won’t try.

“You are so young; you have plenty of time.”

“My husband can get me pregnant by walking into the same room I am in.”

“Want some help?” An offer that comes from a male. Completely undermining my relationship, husband, and knowledge about procreation (really, you have to stick it in to do that?).

“When are you guys going to have kids?”

“What’s wrong with you (or your husband)?” None of your business.

“You can have (borrow) mine.” In reference to their kids. I don’t know how to say this politely, so – I don’t want your kids. And when you think they are acting up or being disagreeable, try to imagine not having them and the huge empty hole that leaves in your life. Then try to not be so eager to “give” them away.

There are so many more, but those are the ideas that are bothering me a lot right now. I also wanted to reiterate that what we are doing with the pills, shots, sonograms, and IUI are great. They are providing us with a boost to our chances. But, they are far from a guarantee of anything (except the hundreds of dollars out of pocket, of which the checks were cashed today – ouch!). There is, in fact, a far greater chance that this cycle will be a very expensive failure. I am aware of this, both through the very nature of the procedure and other circumstantial facts. Perhaps I was too excited in the beginning and got everyone else all excited too. I am back living in the reality of chances and while deep down I believe that the odds have to flip every once in awhile, I don’t think that now is the time. But I could be wrong. I have been wrong before. Regardless, and due to my little faith and much smaller basket of hope, IUI #2 is tentatively planned for next cycle.

When You are Up, You're Destined to go Down

Yesterday I was excited. Yesterday everything looked really good. Today was an anxious day and although this plan could possibly work, it does not look probable. There is always something. Why can't this be easy by this stage? What a damn roller coaster. And no, I don't really feel like talking about it.

It was an Apple of a Weekend

The words have not come easily. Sometimes they do and sometimes they don't during the waiting times. We are somewhere between the HSG (dye test) and the first IUI. Everything looked really good with the dye test; both tubes are open and clear, no visible scarring. So really, the waiting has not even begun. The anticipation has settled in for what they will see on the follicle scan (lots of follicles = good news, some follicles = still good news, no follicles = cancelled IUI). I think that I finally have some discomfort due to ovarian function, we will definitely see at the scan. Again, I am so very excited and worried at the same time. Cautious optimism is still the key phrase surrounding all events.

Thankfully, this weekend has provided MANY opportunities to relegate all these issues to a back burner of sorts. We visited and spent the night with C's parents and it is such a relaxing atmosphere out there. A farm way out in the country with a creek, hills, fields, trees - everything. His parents adore us and make us feel so special whenever we spend time there. And they have an apple tree. More on that later. Then off to AM's for a short, but satisfying visit. More apples. Had dinner with my parents and then spent the night. More apples.

What all of this really means is that our two dogs get the opportunity to play with the three dogs in the country (C's parents') and the rowdy dog here at my parents' house. Bella and Boris are incredibly happy about these events and sleep for days after we get home. C has the opportunity to gather everything he wants to take home with us and to get some work done. He helps his parents out a lot when we visit. AM always provides me with a different version of real life - in that, her life is different enough from mine that she can drag me out of my self-centeredness, and similar enough to mine that advice is incredibly useful. I really appreciate and cherish moments spend with her. My parents just love to see us (like C's parents do). We talk and eat and laugh (my mom and C have a very teasing relationship). So I guess this makes us weird: that we are grown up, married, and come home often just to hang out and spend time with our parents. Really, I wish this scenario was an option for everyone. The benefits are enormous - I am still learning things from my parents and of course, tons from C's parents, we are constantly reminded that here are four people that love us unconditionally, and each couple lives their 30+ year marriage out in front of us still. That type of influence cannot really be underestimated.

About the apples. C's parents have a hybrid apple tree in their front yard. It's been there since they bought the house forty years ago. There are red, green, and yellow apples and C's mom and I picked enough to fill up a five gallon bucket (which I have to return to C's dad). C's mom had already made us some cooked apples that morning, so I borrowed her corer/slicer/peeler and took off for AM's. Since it has been a v. good year for apples, she already had two boxes that we needed to use. So there was a pie, some apple/pearsauce, and a 9x13 pan of apple crisp. It was a lot of apples and only a small amount was used out of my five gallon bucket. On to Mom's house. I had to make apple cinnamon muffins. Mom has a great recipe, I remembered these from childhood, and C had never had any! So, there are apple cinnamon muffins, apple crisp, and applesauce here at Mom's too. As for my dad, if there is any food product with cinnamon and sugar, he will eat it and love it. That's just the way Dad is.

The farm, the dogs, me possibly, and some apple/apple products.

The creek before the sun came out.

Pretty sunshine and foliage up the hill.

Boris the Blue Heeler and his sticks.

Boris the Blue Heeler squints.

Bella the Beautiful. I am responsible for the haircut.

Me. More of the creek. Cool red tunnels.

There were apples all over the ground. Such pretty colors. Three is a nice number. Triplets?

Lots more tempting apples in the tree beyond our reach.

C's dad is a beekeeper of sorts and has two found hives that he just bought Queens for. The bees are happy and love the rotting apples on the ground. Unless you are allergic, honey bees are mostly harmless.

Apple cinnamon muffins. We added crushed pecans to half of them and they were tasty!

Tempering

It is so hard to be me. Not really. I’m just making fun of myself. It’s quite simple really: get up and go to work, do not say what I really think (my personal thoughts are often not interpreted as genuine customer service), do my job, come home, stare at some homework (accomplish the minimum), pet each dog (equal time is a must), feed self, affirm C in some way, and crawl into bed to do it all over again tomorrow. I forgot the sex without consequences part—there is that on special occasions. Yeah, I’m a little bored and burnt out – is it obvious?

This weekend I did our finances. Totally and completely. Everything from 2008 is filed, in chronological order and tabbed, in a gigantic D-ring notebook. Expenses are tallied in a super cool excel spreadsheet (thanks to K for the template I never could have come up with!). It is all supposed to make answering the question of “where is all of this money going?” easier to answer. Unfortunately, this money is going into our mouths. I watched our Eating Out tallies grow and tried not to puke a little in my mouth (it would probably be the Chipotle from night previous and since we already spent that money, it might as well stay down and try to nourish my body). What I mean is that it was sickening that hundreds of dollars a month go towards a pop, McDonald’s (I wouldn’t be caught dead there – they might serve me as a quarter pounder), Chipotle, or a stupid salad (albeit tasty, so very tasty). That is going to stop – as in I refuse to eat out with two exceptions: special night with the husband or the only way I can see a friend. C is going to get an allowance, or if that sounds too juvenile, a weekly or monthly budget – I haven’t decided yet. There are other places to cut back: use less water, electricity, gas. Hundreds of dollars of fuel per month may not be a lifestyle so much as an option that we need to seek an alternative to. I did have an idea that this was coming and have done small things over the last month, namely cut way back on Target trips (never seem to leave there without spending $40-$80) and stop buying books (school is the only exception but they tell me that libraries are a great place to get books). I need to do more – we need to do more. And we will. A few thousand dollars worth of medical bills are going to be coming down the pipes in the next month or three and we need to be prepared to pay them. Can you even imagine how irate I will be if we can’t afford treatment because of too many quarter pounders? Don’t ask. At least my downfall is a good grocery store salad bar. It has the premise of healthy.

I’m in a doubtful place. Currently just waiting for something that I am sure will occur any day now so that we can get this show on the road. So that I can be one of two poster children of IF: either the first shot IUI success or the friend who is on IUI #5 and still hopeful because all the previous attempts failed. You realize that since we introduced an actual procedure and protocol into the try for baby this month that there is no longer a positive or negative pregnancy test at the end (actually, there is no pregnancy test at all because there is a likely occurrence of a false positive due to the HCG shot I will receive to signal the follicles to release an egg(s)). There is only success and failure. And while I am okay with bringing you all along on this journey, you have to be prepared, just like we are, for a failure. Inside of your heads, of course, because I don’t need any more doubts in my doubtful place. Please don’t think me mean or cruel for pointing this out, because I do this for your sake as much as mine. For none of you (I hope to God) will ever know this disappointment as it happens again and again, but I am aware of the sympathy and empathy floating around out there. So, you must be aware.

Despite residing on Doubtful Circle, Front Porch, Alabama, currently, don’t mistake doubt for lack of hope and excitement. I am still very hopeful and excited. Even with a 10-12% success rate with the way we are conducting this cycle, I think that sooner or later (if conception really is a game of odds and not chance) the odds have to be in our favor. Even the intricacies of this cycle’s protocol have me thrilled. Do you realize that I have an actual task from cycle day one to cycle day thirteen? I get to be doing something and occupied. Yeah, the two week wait will be sort of awful, but I don’t have to think about it until it is actually upon us and everything else that will ensure conception has been accomplished. For anyone else who has tried their best to schedule sex around “fertile” times, do you know what a relief this is? The whole process is practically taken out of my hands. Surprisingly, I am grateful and relieved about all of that. And above all else, there is a PLAN. This cycle either succeeds or fails, but then there is next cycle, possibly a third, and then trying something new. This really does constitute a plan for me, for us. About the PLAN alone, I am incredibly happy. About the increased chances of creating life and carrying life to term to get a squishy baby, I am ecstatic. But as a form of self-preservation, I have to remain incrementally doubtful. Otherwise my world shatters when this cycle fails and I know from personal experience how long it takes to pick up those pieces. Believe me; you can’t even hire someone to do it for you. All you are capable of doing is picking up each piece, one by one, letting them stab you and draw blood, while placing them in your basket and hoping that magic elves will come and make them whole again before you slowly bleed to death.

So This is What Being Taken Seriously Feels Like. Wow.

I should begin this by stating that I have a research critique and an art chat due tomorrow and I am still blogging. Yesterday was fantastic. I smile just thinking about it. I got up, went to the doctor’s appointment. They gave me a sheet that confirmed what my insurance company had told me when I called, that diagnostic procedures to diagnose infertility were subject to a $500 deductible, and then covered at 50%, while treatments aren’t covered at all. Some friends have been pretty surprised by this, but it is quite standard and I was delighted that my insurance covers anything at all. Infertility, according to the way insurance companies in the U.S. treat it, is a choice, sort of. As in, they are fine if you are diagnosed with it (because yes, it exists), but they don’t think it is worth treatment because having children is a choice. Did you know that? Having children is a choice and if I am unable to do so the traditional way (SEX!), then I am out of luck, because they sure as hell aren’t going to pay anything to help it happen for me. Although, they pay very well for birth control and elective sterilization (tubes tied, vasectomy, or hysterectomy). Anyway, I am still excited that they are going to pay something.


Nurse takes me back, asks some questions, leaves to brief the doctor. Doctor enters with all information. I filled out at least eight pages detailing what I’ve been through on the reproductive road. He clarifies a couple of things (yes, apparently an infection after a D&C is quite rare). He says that there are three things that they need to make sure are functioning so that conception can happen: 1) ovulation (we’re good as long as I am on meds), 2) sperm quality (doc has a copy of the great SA in his hands since his office conducted it), and 3) tubes and uterus (this is where we are going . . .). He says that first we are going to do a sonogram to look at my uterus and ovaries (haven’t I wanted one?) TODAY; then an HSG. An HSG is when they set you under an x-ray machine and the doctor puts dye in your uterus and it should highlight any blockages or scar tissue when it flows through the fallopian tubes. It is the best way to see if there is anything impeding the meet up of sperm and egg. The sonogram was quick (here in blogland, it is done with what is called a dildocam) and my uterus looked good (as did the endometrium). My ovaries looked okay, but the doctor did make the comment that he wasn’t sure if I ovulated this cycle (without meds) because of the way they looked. We are doing the HSG a few days after the next cycle starts. Which shouldn’t interfere with (cue the music . . .)

An IUI. This next cycle we are doing a medicated IUI cycle. IUI stands for intrauterine insemination. Which means that C leaves a donation at the clinic, they wash it (make sure all the sperm have heads and tails), and they put it in the very top of my uterus via catheter through my cervix. That is the easy part. I have five days of a doubled dose of the magic pills (dear lord, help us all), four days of estrogen, a sonogram midcycle to look at the follicles (to see EGGS!), if there are eggs I get a shot of HCG (the pregnancy hormone to stimulate the follicles to release an egg), and the following day we do the insemination. Simple, right? I am so excited. Let me repeat that: I AM SO EXCITED!


There is the chance that it could work. That we could be pregnant. But we are doing something and there is a plan. If this time doesn’t work, we’ll take a couple of months, regroup, pay this cycle off, and save up some money for the next cycle. Because that is what this doctor does: he gets people pregnant.

Now that I am in the day after, I am a little concerned about money. Who saves up a couple thousand to TRY and get pregnant? Guess I shouldn’t have bought that new bag . . . We have made the decision to go for it this cycle.


The only other thing is that I shared, in my excitement, with a few people about what we are doing. Which is fine, because if they care about me, they will be excited too. But one was making fun of me. Could be my fault because I was referring to the process as a date with a turkey baster, but in my defense, no one knows what an IUI and just look at how many words it took to explain it to you all! Anyway, I decided that if he persists in teasing me, that my response will be “Listen, I shared what I did with you because I was excited and I was looking for fellow excitement and possibly some support and encouragement. If you can’t provide any of these, I invite you to shut the hell up and forget I told you anything.” If that doesn’t work, I’m not above beating anybody up.

Which is my way of saying that there is a reason I am sharing intimate details with you. I could use your support and encouragement. Prayers are also very welcome. I want you to understand (even the science of it) and feel free to ask questions. I want you not to judge me (us) for the decisions we have made or that others like us have made. I want you to understand that I don’t need your sympathy and that I would rather you join me in my excitement and possibly my sadness should this attempt fail. You get my drift? I’m not hosting show and tell to be made fun of. Just to educate and revel in the love and possibly (outside chance) to end up pregnant. Fingers crossed. Everybody.

I HATE Teases!

I have been so tired today, but I'm fairly certain that the excitement from the doctor's appointment this morning has kept me humming (that burns calories, right?). And I am too tired to post. Figure that. Maybe tomorrow. You can consider this the biggest tease of 2008 if you'd like. Or of September, or even this week. More to come. Totally (big YAWN) worth it.

All of the Tomorrows

It is the eve of something I never considered. With the craziness at work and for school this week, tomorrow and the consultation with the RE totally crept up on me. Tomorrow. Seriously. Me. 25 and healthy. Surely just needing a jump start and not a complete overhaul or diagnostic testing. What I mean is that I had a lot more faith than I let on that one of these months (with or without the magic pills) we would just turn up pregnant. We haven’t and I remain puzzled about that. When I did remember that the appointment with the RE was tomorrow, I got really excited because he is going to solve all of our problems and figure out how to get us pregnant. Right? And he’ll surely do it in a clear, honest, empathetic way. But what if he doesn’t figure it out? What if he is a prick that preys on the insecurities and pain that infertile women carry? I’m remembering that I have been taught to never put all of my eggs in one basket, whatever that means. The only realistic solution to this is obvious, to attend my appointment tomorrow. To inform the doctor of my expectations. To be clear and honest. And to hope that he is Dr. Wonderful. I don’t know what to do if he isn’t. All my eggs are in his basket. This infertility thing isn’t disappearing by itself. As evidenced by the need to visit the RE, this infertility thing is real. Not in my head, not in the emotional hormones of the magic pills, not an illusion, just very very real. I refuse to play the how-infertile game. I’m here, I have arrived, and I sure as hell plan on doing something about it.

It's Mine, It Is All Mine

For those of you that read this and don't know, I am funny. For those of you that read this and do know, laugh away. I am most often described as unique and creative and anne (like it was some sort of adjective). I aspire to all three. Sometimes I am down, or sad, or utterly bored or busy, and everything is just blah. It's like viewing the world through a filmy lens and remaining seriously uninterested. This is usually interrupted by some superb new idea that may be feasible and realistic, but just as often, not at all. My life goes by with these inane up and downs and when I come across a stable moment and reflect, I feel trapped on the roller coaster. The thing is, given the opportunity for a consistently mellow existence, I would turn you down in a hot second. There is no way I would give up the highs: perfect days, people that rock my world, orgasms (had to make sure you were still paying attention), even if I am then, by definition required to experience the lows. We all know that hormone manipulating pills do not help the above scenario. So. I can't figure out why I am here. In this funk. This weird not-knowing place.


This past weekend was fun and I needed some fun. Headed home on Friday, went out to the bars with Sister B, her bf, and her friend. I went to meet S and the boys who were already, um, drunk. Fun night was had. No details necessary. What gets me is the relationship with S. I can't explain it to you because I can't explain it to his friends, my friends, our families, or C (who has never really asked, him being entirely non jealous). I could delve into the history and I usually do. I could start telling stories. But I can't explain it to you. I can't even explain it to me. I love the boy. And he is nothing and everything, as in, nothing you should worry your pretty little head about, and everything to me. Somehow I am still unsatisfied with that explanation. Kind of like how I don't want to refer to him either as my friend or my ex, neither captures what he is to me and it bothers me. So I guess that S, you are mine, until the time a super cool girl comes along and claims you. I promise not to pee on you in order to establish ownership. Unless we visit the beach. Because there are jellyfish there. I could tell people that you are my jellyfish.

In/Fertility updates:
*Actually, you'd think at 25, I might not be upfront about all this trouble, and you would be wrong. It was so strange, when all the boys were drunk on Friday, S's boys were hanging out and asked to hear the story of how he broke my heart (yes, they really asked!). I told them the breakup story and S reminded me that I forgot the interesting part, that he dumped me because I never wanted to have children (at age 18). I mentioned to the boys that the irony there was that it was currently proving difficult to get pregnant at all. N, one of the boys, said “I'm sorry.” That's all. And even though he was incredibly drunk, it still meant a lot to me.
*S's sister, pregnant with her second, told me a story of friends that had trouble getting pregnant, finally did with the help of the magic white pills, miscarried, and were now pregnant with twin girls. She mentioned how hard it was to see them miscarry after all they had gone through getting pregnant. And she said that she had faith it would work out for me.
*A long lost hs classmate found me on FB (that's what it is for, right?) and was A. surprised to find me married, B. surprised to find me married to a man (I was known as a bit of a man hater), C. asking me if I knew of any babies because he and his wife are looking to adopt. I said that we were consulting doctors in that department, but if we hit the jackpot and had six or seven babies, he could have two. One or two more are promised to S.
*Had a conversation with Mom as we were headed back here. I told her that my response to anyone asking about when we are planning on having kids is that we would like them and there are doctors involved. I figure that is the best way to either shut them up (TMI), but it also opens a very small door if they would like to ask questions. It seems like the easiest way right now to both invite and close any discussion. Mom mentioned that twins would be fine with her because then there would be one for her to hold and one for my MIL (that tells you how often they are in the same place). Sweet dreams.
*Coworker came into work with her little one today and I got to hold her. To the fates, God, whoever is listening, I promise that I could do it – the mom thing. She was so precious. I sometimes need that reminder because I disassociate babies from pregnancy and pregnancy from babies. It's because of this strange duality of our problem: am I infertile or do I get pregnant and miscarry? Or, both? Because I'm not getting pregnant right now, but I did. I am assuming that we won't know the answer until I am pregnant again. There isn't a fear of getting pregnant, I am afraid that I won't be able to get pregnant, or that when I do, I'll miscarry again. A giant fear is wrapped up in the time it has taken us to get pregnant since the first miscarriage. You know?


Drat, it got way too deep. Was not my intention. Will conclude with the image (be creative in your minds) of me: brown hair, brown eyes, pale with freckles, in a black cotton/silk floaty poofy dress. I feel much better, you?

In the Waiting Times

I haven't been thinking about it - do I get some sort of award for that? I donated blood today because I am O+ and I know they need that and because I finally meet the weight requirement. You can be jealous over that last statement or you can just accept that these are the genes that I was born with. Little sister is turning 23 on Saturday and still hasn't met the minimum weight to donate blood. Anyway, I am dumb and thought that the donation would take oh, fifteen minutes. Yeah, or an hour and a half. Which is okay because the place was flooded (no, not with blood - with donors). Pretty cool. It's not like you get anything. Except a rad tee shirt, a sticker, some Oreos and apple juice, and a coupon for a free cup of coffee. Maybe the perks are awesome. I did it because I was physically able and I am betting that my blood is decent (cue the tune "How to Save a Life"). Anyway, I am tired. Exhausted. Wiped.

As in not doing homework. Except that I have been networking for a project due next week. Death and Dying includes an interview with someone involved with hospice and then a paper or a presentation. I chose a perinatal hospice because I get the feeling that some don't know that there are other options when carrying a terminal child. The whole thing makes me sad, but awareness is my middle name and here I am to bring attention to something wonderful, respectful, and full of both honor and grace. So, I'm solidifying details with the hospice to conduct a phone interview early next week with the director, an MD, and a sonographer. Possibly life changing. I chose this specific perinatal hospice because they set up camp right across the way from an abortion clinic known for late term abortions. I will not judge those who walk through the door of either office, but I am glad that there are options. Specifically, choices. Should be interesting.

That's about it. Called the insurance company to see what they might cover from the RE visit. A little excited because they do cover diagnostic procedures that lead to an IF diagnosis; they just don't cover treatment. We'll cross that bridge when we get there. I've been trying to be nicer to C, calm down, and focus on how lucky I am in so many ways. Perhaps, I'm even trying a little bit of joyful out. This weekend, I get to see Sister B, S is back in town for one night only, staying with the parents, and attending my third ever collegiate football game in the town I was born in, grew up in, and graduated from college. I'm not much of an athletic supporter, but perhaps there will be pictures . . .

New Plan: Continuation

In case no one noticed, yes, this has been the magicwhitepill-cycle-from-hell. And it is finally over, late, and with two lily white pregnancy tests. If I had called any earlier cycles hellish, I might have been kidding because I am not kidding now. With the second test came an insomniatic quiet panic calm. I’m still not sure how you can panic and remain calm at the same time, but it does involve waking up every twenty minutes from 315a to 620a with bleary eyes and possible tears. By the time I was up for the day, I was fine (relatively speaking) and back to the original game plan for the meet and greet with the new obgyn Monday evening.


The talk went well. I waited on the doc for an hour, but I know that is rather typical and she had an entire bookcase full of childbirth books. When her midwife came to get me, she saw the book in my hands (that I had checked out, since I was allowed to) and said that she loved books and she was so glad that someone was reading that one (The American Way of Birth by ). I kind of gave the doc and the midwife my little spiel about infertility and my ideas on childbirth, obstetrics, and education. She told me immediately that she would refer me on to the RE, that she was sending her infertility patients that way, and he was a very good doctor and had been sending them back. I was relieved to hear this: a direct plan. I found that her ideas on childbirth are very much in line with my own and that she believes in education and encourages it. She practices more holistically (treating the whole person versus just the symptoms) and naturally than her counterparts. She or the midwife also deliver all of their own patients, they don’t induce unless it is medically necessary, and they have the lowest c-section rate. I enjoyed the doctor, but I really loved the midwife – I would be okay to see her throughout a pregnancy. I really respected that they heard my history and admitted that they would send me to the RE. My current obgyn has been dragging her feet about all of this infertility stuff. So she is fired.

Which means that I have my first consult with the RE mid-September. I hear he’s good and I am encouraged that it is his job to get us pregnant. He also must be a busy man with a 24-hour cancellation policy and a $150 cancellation fee. Wow. But that’s okay, I don’t plan on cancelling. I plan on somehow, someway, getting completely knocked up. C is so frustrated with the entire process. He’s glad the new obgyn said what she said and that it got me to set an appointment up with the RE. But he’s so very tired of this, as am I. It is exhausting being this stressed out so much of the time. The mood swings, hot flashes, and false symptoms are also getting really old. We’ll get through it and emerge better people on the other side. I hope.


No magic pills for the next cycle for a few reasons: they work, but aren’t working, we’d rather wait on the RE’s game plan, and I have no desire to remain in contact with my previous doctor’s office. Except to obtain medical records for doctors that are actually helping us. You know the ones that care? For someone who doesn’t like pills, hospitals, or doctors much, it is surprising how many I’ve accrued in the two years we have been here. Five doctors, actually.

Overall, this is good news. All of it. No looking back, only looking forward. Christmas is around the corner, right? And I love Christmas.

I Am . . . Applesauce

Waiting. And it is taking forever. Not like vampire forever, just an extended period of time longer than I am willing to wait forever.

Trying not to cry. Really I am. Just because you see tears streaming down my face DOES NOT mean that I am crying. I probably just thought of something sad. Like puppies.

Hungry and very unhungry. Which is particularly irritating at a restaurant where you order something (like a hamburger) and it arrives and you take one bite and it's like no way. So you content yourself with a curried chicken wrap and swear that you can taste the oil on your tator tots (and I like tator tots a lot!). Applesauce and water are good too. Onions are not. Mayonnaise is a definite maybe.

Pouring water down my throat and wondering why me and the bathroom are such close friends. I've drank more water in the last three days than the previous seven combined. Like 60 ounces a day versus 20 ounces. Good for me. Applesauce also has a lot of water in it. I kinda think I might be a vampire, what with the burning thirst.

Loving me some George Strait. And in need of some intense comfort, so I might be watching Pure Country later. Just so you know.

Completely over analyzing every twitch in my abdomen. It's what I do for fun on the weekends. When I'm not drinking water.

Practicing avoidance like it is being considered as an event in the next Olympics.

Very tired. One two-hour nap down, shall I take another? I'll wake up in less than two hours again due to the water intake.

Not super excited to read Tuesdays with Morrie again. It's for my Death & Dying class. I thought it was good and even important the first time, but WAY over-hyped. I am also concerned about what type of effect this class will have on me. I'm hoping for additional coping mechanisms, but you never know.

Very excited to PAINT in my Chinese arts class.

Wanting to spend some time in Washington State with a really cool 15yo and her horse.

Missing my people. A whole lot. I miss my sister now that I saw her than I did before. She has transformed in the last few years into such a sweet encouraging person. I need to figure out a way to be there more for her. I miss AM because I needed someone to bounce this all off of and she's not back forever. I miss AD because she is rational and I wish we could just hang out for a few days chatting. I miss miss M and miss J because I got to spend only two days with each and it was NOT enough (sorry about the whining). These two are girls that at different times in my life I saw everyday. I see no one I love everyday now except C, the love of my life. I miss him too. Just because he is out in the garage.

Not winning the war against crying.

Missing E and S and C. All those west of me.

Trying to plan for the least amount of disappointment. Such a benign word, yet disappointment effectively shreds my heart with glass shards. It is so hard for me to deal with and hope is what makes it worse, but denying hope leaves me with nothing. How do I walk the fine line?

Trying really hard to be quiet and still (as if this will help anything) and not hope too much.

Wondering why in the world I wrote this post. Then I know. To remember tomorrow. Whatever happens, life goes on. Whatever happens, I am okay. Whatever happens, this life is mine and I need to take charge of it, or perhaps, pass the care of it on to someone bigger. It is getting awfully heavy with all the worrying and blame that I carry with me. Do you think He wants any part of it? He probably wants all of it. I don't know if I am capable of giving it all to Him. But right now, in my emotional state, I know that I can't carry it all by myself. Will have to think on this.

Thirsty. Tired. Waiting.

Confused about what I talk to the doctor about tomorrow and very concerned about having to call another doctor to deal with another problem.

Not going to think about what I'm trying really hard not to think about truly and really.

Young Adult Novels Have Taken Over My Life (But Perhaps I Was Previously Crazy)

There are probably lots of reasons that you don't want to be me right now. The best one, in my opinion, is that I am nuts. As in crazy. At least with the help of little white pills. Which, of course, worked, but also didn't work. Although, I don't know that for sure yet, so if someone else wants to carry around my basket of hope, that's great - just keep it the hell away from me. So I am crazy. Full psychotic and the only reason I'm blogging at all is because I'm entertaining a brief moment of sanity. Last night and the night before, this laptop would have been a goner - either from me throwing it against the wall or sobbing over it. Death be drowning or violent impact. It chose to stay behind the closed door. Because, guess what I have been doing?

I've had a week plus off of school and I've been reading a lot. Like 2000+ pages in the last eight or nine days. Or, you know, whatever all four books (Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, & Breaking Dawn) in the Stephanie Meyers series add up to. Plus Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. I obviously bought myself some easy reading. Which is good, because my Death & Dying class begins Sunday. I'm also taking something to do with Chinese Art. We'll see. It's my last term of taking two classes and in case I haven't mentioned it - I can't wait to graduate in December.

Anyway, thoughts can't stay in my head any better than sanity.

The Creepiness of Dream Reality and Infertility Hurts

I've been having incredibly realistic and detailed dreams for the past three nights. No idea why and I wish they would stop. Most recently, I dreamed that my sister was pregnant (visibly), hadn't told me and when confronted, told me she was maybe eight to thirteen weeks along. She was also hanging out with a bunch of my friends that have babies and small children. In this dream, I flew into a rage and started spewing venom of the like that I thought I had conquered after the whole AM thing. It was awful. I have no desire to ever say those things to my sister or anyone and I'm quite disappointed that this was my unconscious reaction to something that should be wonderful and joyous. What makes this so much more disturbing was the people, places, and words I could identify. I could tell you what color sister B was wearing even and the name of the two restaurants, etc. Yuck. I'm left feeling guilty about something I have no control over.

The dream three nights ago was equally vivid and I did remember it, but can't recall it now. Two nights ago, I had a dream that I gave birth in my parent's basement. After waking up, I could tell you who caught the baby and exactly who was in the room, but I can't now. I do remember the man who caught the baby held her up and told us that she was a girl; we named her Elizabeth. After that, the dream deteriorated because I became a negligent mom, just leaving the baby on the floor because I was so excited that I had a baby and had to go out and tell everyone. I know that my mom and mil lectured me about taking care of my baby. I was still so happy when I woke up because I remember the guy holding up a screaming, red, very much healthy and alive baby girl.

Anyway, I had my ritual blood draw yesterday. Soon they will call me and tell me that I ovulated, that the magic white pills worked, and I won't care. Because in about a week, I will find out that we aren't pregnant, and the workings of some tiny pills really won't matter. I'm not being pessimistic, just matter-of-fact. As if I haven't been stressed out enough about school in the last two weeks (and it's over for a week!), I have been going back and forth about doctors. I still don't like mine at all, but there are small issues with the one that I want to meet: she is being reviewed by the medical center that she delivers at, serious enough to have hospital privileges suspended (she has them back now). I'm not sure what to do about that. I'm considering just ignoring the what-ifs I get pregnant, since that is not forthcoming, and focus on getting us pregnant. Which would mean jumping to the RE's office and see what he can do for us. My general practitioner, I recently found out, does obstetrics and has delivery privileges at the medical center. I like her a lot, so she is an option. Guess I need to keep in mind that we need to get there first, before I worry about deliveries and prenatal care, huh? That's what a sane person would do.

To make this a super long post, who wants to read my final paragraph from the project about infertility that I just finished? Everyone? You guys are too sweet - here you go:

From the studies the researchers conducted, the personal bias I could perceive was that most people, when afflicted with anything, tend to assume that their pain is worse than what anyone else has ever experienced. This is categorically untrue, but we think this anyway. I am tempted to say that some of the findings of the study could be a result of this, but my doubt comes from the idea that many couple experiencing infertility are relatively quiet about it. Therefore, it seems like they would be less likely to endorse the extent of the pain that they are in due to infertility. My personal bias towards this research is that the first article is nearly irrelevant. That researchers found no significant increase in psychological strain or suffering due to the infertility interviewed couples experienced is absurd. I believe the second article that found infertile men demonstrating increased stress, anxiety, and marital discord and I believe that the coping mechanisms infertile women employ can alter their attitudes, but I find it hard to believe that couples experiencing infertility are perfectly fine and content with life. Few problems cannot be fixed with a better job, more money, a higher education, surgery, but infertility, while sometimes “solvable,” is the realm of the unknown. While experiencing it, couples often have no idea what is wrong, what they should try to fix, or if there is anything to fix, until they receive a diagnosis, if they ever receive a diagnosis. Some diagnoses leave room to try new or different treatments and technology and some leave no room for hope. However, this is an aspect of the human body (both male and female) that doctors and scientists do not fully understand. They often cannot explain why a couple is unable to get pregnant for years. They often cannot explain what is different between that couple and one who has experienced infertility, tried all applicable treatments numerous times, and ends up pregnant without assistance after giving up hope. Infertility is representative of the unknown, and often, humanity fears the unknown and therein lies psychological repercussions. What I say, these articles repeat, and their research backs up, is that infertility can be damaging and that it hurts.

Currently, the real question is if I should eat the homemade lasagna for breakfast. I'm leaning towards YES.

What You Can Do & What You Did

I have a friend who recently told me that he doesn't think blogging is brave. I was told this after I asked if he read my blog. I don't blog because I think it is brave. Heck, I don't even think that I am brave. I blog because it is cheaper than therapy (I just paid that $22o bill for two sessions). I blog because I think that I have something to say, and even if I don't, I have a story to tell. I blog because in some tiny recess of my heart, I hope to help someone else with coping, or pain, or information. I blog to keep a record of where I have been, for when I broach the other side, I fear that I won't remember how painful/pleasant, sweet/sour, joyous/tearful the journey was, and I think that the learning is found in the remembering. Bravery has nothing to do with it. The closest I come to bravery these days is trying to keep it all together when the tears threaten to ski down my cheeks.

A friend texted me today to ask what she could do for a close friend that recently miscarried. I had a couple of hours to think on that. I take helping people so very seriously because I realize that one misstep can turn help into unmeant harm. My first thought was that everyone is so very different in how they deal with life occurrences, but there has to be something we all need or have in common. There are two huge things that I needed and were provided for me in my time of need: acknowledgement of loss and listening friends/loved ones. It doesn't matter what you lost, a baby, hope, dreams, plans, you lost something very real and there is going to be grief. You can say whatever you want, but I lost a baby and a dream. I cannot say at this point that the grieving process is over; it isn't. Which brings me to the listening. Everyone needs to be listened to, but this person in your life needs to know that she (he) can talk about her loss, or not talk about it. That you will listen to her today, tomorrow, and even in two years if she needs you to. There are other little things, but these two were the biggest to me. They may seem obvious, but both of them are so important. To this day I have very clear memories of who was there for me and who was not. That sounds vindictive and I don't mean it to sound that way. I cherish those that were strong enough to support me when I was so very weak.

I want to expound on what I remember because it makes me so very grateful to have the people in my life that I do:
C, my husband, held my hand until I went into surgery and I know now that he was just as scared as I was. He held me so tight and for so long that I could feel love, like heat, radiating off of him.
My parents and his parents would have driven through the night to be there for us, but we thought it best to go it alone, as a couple. The parents opened their arms and homes to us as quiet resting places during recovery. What they provided was a safe place.
S, the boy who broke my heart because I "never wanted to have children," stayed up into the wee hours of the morning with me, so that I wouldn't have to go to sleep and have nightmares. He took me out to lunch when I couldn't drive because of the painkillers (because of the pain). He just sat with me and listened.
K, a family friend and someone who has experienced at least one devastating miscarriage, brought me hugs, a card, and flowers, along with teary condolences.
S, my parents' neighbor and another person that has experienced a devastating miscarriage, told my mom to send me over and that I could just talk to her and hang out (I took her up on that). She told me her own story and just listened.
I called my best friends, EL and M, who both cried with me. They just listened and M prays.
J and L, both who live states away, strangely called that night just to catch up. I hadn't told either of them that I was pregnant, so they got the set of news together and both expressed their deepest condolences. They just listened.
I went to see A and her sweet, six-day-old baby boy. I held him and she just listened.
I had to call E with the bad news and the phone went silent. He listened and continues to listen.
N and A responded with disbelief and condolences. N has always been there for C.
As the news trickled around and I continued to deal with the pain and grief, other support came readily.
I found that while I was busy being a horrendous person, that AM and R found it in their hearts to grieve with me and pray for me. I heard from AM how sorry she was within minutes of our reconciliation.
I reached out a made friends with AD, who I always knew would be a good person to have on my side, and she listens, still.
AN and I came back into our friendship and have helped one another, I think. She also listens, which I am grateful for.
C and I picked up right where we had left it, that fun shiny friendship, but now it is deeper and better and she listens and is on the lookout for my feelings.
T and K have their prayers working for me, and as recent as Monday, K just listened, and quite honestly, T always has.
This list isn't exhaustive, it serves as an indicator, that what you do for someone who is hurting matters a lot. Now or later, here or there, in person or on the phone, a little or a lot, words or no words - it all matters. Thank you for your hearts and your support.

Speculations on a Possible Overreaction and Changes, Always Changes

Something hit the fan. Or cracked. Or imploded. I don't know what happened. But I'm left teary (blaming it on the hormones, as usual) and unsure of what is going on, or what is to come. Really, I have done too much talking about my miscarriage lately. That is very much my fault and I need to file it away again as something that was painful and happened, but as history too. Why do I keep talking about it then? Because I hold it close to my heart as my only experience with pregnancy. That it happened is proof that I was pregnant and could get pregnant. I really need to stop talking about it so much, and I will, probably, after this.

Given the abbreviated version of events in our fertility (or lack thereof), a friend asked if the infection that I experienced after my d&c could have hurt/messed up/impeded anything fertility wise. You know, I'm wondering if she was thinking (in a big picture way that I have obviously missed) that a year and a half is a long time. I had never considered that an infection could do additional damage. I brought this up with C. He thought that in addition to the IV antibiotics that they gave me as I was coming out of surgery, they gave me a prescription for oral antibiotics. They didn't, just a prescription for painkillers that I had about emptied between the Sunday I was released from the hospital to the Friday I had my post-op appointment (with a different doctor in a different town than the hospital). So, we know that a prescription was not written for antibiotics, which the post-op doctor said was dumb, especially since I had an obvious infection down there somewhere (obvious to her, not to me). She gave me a prescription for antibiotics and told me to call her on Saturday (the next day) if I was still in pain. This scenario made C yell. He didn't realize the hospital hadn't given me a prescription for antibiotics.

I did a very small amount of research and it seems that it is pretty standard to prescribe both painkillers and antibiotics after a d&c, but that it is completely up to the doctor. I can't remember if I knew something was wrong or I just thought I was supposed to be in that much pain. Big question: is there any way that the infection damaged something that could cause this process to be so difficult? If so, C is pissed. Like I said, I am unsure. And, unfortunately, still disappointed in my body and completely internalizing fault and blame. Because that is what I do.

The good news is that these are questions for a new doctor. I hear she is wonderful and has ideas on birthing similar to mine, which will be useful should we get to that point. I want to meet her, set forth (briefly, if I am able) what has been going on and ask if she can help us. If she says no, then I will make an appointment with the RE (reproductive endocrinologist) and he will help us get pregnant, but I will return to the female doctor upon learning of any pregnancy. My requests are simple: I want a medical professional that thinks it is paramount to get us pregnant, I want a doctor that thinks my worries (be they getting pregnant or freaking out during a pregnancy) are not crazy or neurotic, and most importantly, I want someone that will help (me, us, any future creations). I need someone better than my current doctor, someone more proactive, someone that cares. I want assurance that we will find an answer to this complex infertility riddle, or that we will keep looking or trying different things, or given an option. Specifically, I want a sonogram to check all the goods out, then I want a scope if the sonogram revealed anything unusual. Then I want to know why we are still not pregnant if I ovulate and C's contribution is fine. I want someone to tell me that it is ridiculous to have a doctor that drags her feet for a year and a half. I really want that glimpse into the future to see what will be.

This was what hit the fan. Up to the moment that the blades of the fan tore it all up, this was an amazing weekend full of friends. Then, that thing with the fan. And I'm done.

What Happens When You are Nice / Research / Take Pills

Another week another round of revelations. Mostly good, or at least informative, and me being the type that thinks information is almost always good, I am sated for the time being. Actually, another round of the magic pills too, and I am under the impression that my body is becoming so used to them that instead of what I would consider "normal" or "regular" hot flashes, my temperature just goes sky high as soon as they are in my system. I could feel the redness in my face yesterday. Anyway, I'm sure that they will do what they are supposed to, and we will do what we are supposed to, and most likely, it won't work.

Beyond that, I had a chance on Monday to meet up with a new little life, his mom, and for a few minutes, his dad. His dad and I go way back; like 4 years old or something, and have somehow retained an ever changing relationship. What I love most about him is that he was always there for me when I needed a loving voice of reason (me? need reason?). What I have been missing is that I don't know the girl he married. So Monday was important to say the least. I met little T and got to spend a chunk of time just talking to K. Which was wonderful. I knew that we had to have something in common because, well we're both girls that T chose to have in his life, K as a wonderful wife, and me as a friend. K shares this crazy persuasion I have that women need to be educated, really just in general, but moreso about their bodies (especially their reproductive options and rights). On top of all that, I love hanging out with people that are honest, truthful, and very real and upfront about things, and K definitely has all of that going for her. I can't even explain how much I appreciated her honesty and sensitivity. Pretty sure that I made a friend, and an awesome one at that. I'm so thankful that we got this chance and that I get to stop by next week to see K and little T again!

In other news, I've been working on a project about infertility. Have to use peer reviewed academic journal articles. The one that fit into the guidelines of the project best was one that stated those with infertility do not demonstrate a psychological state or strain any different from the average population. In fact, those experiencing infertility that DO exhibit depression or any other heightened psychological state are people who probably had anxieties and neuroses before their stint with infertility. I completely read the study multiple times and the process they used to cull information seemed pretty good to me, as thorough as you can achieve without providing a result-skewing incentive. So were all of these people lying, or is infertility no more devastating than a bankruptcy? I guess they are not saying that we not in pain or distress, but by arriving at the conclusion that infertility is apparently equally devastating to any other life occurrence, is kind of belittling to me. Maybe I had previous anxieties and was incredibly neurotic, infertility and loss has just given me something to focus all of this into. I realize that the other direction results in someone assigning severity to different experiences, which just don't work. And the majority of the participants in the study either had a definitive diagnosis or achieved pregnancy. Answers help, I know they do, but I don't know that they would erase the pain and grief. More on this later.