There comes a time...

Just over three years ago, my life changed forever. And no, it wasn't because of a pregnancy. That event wouldn't happen for another two years. I know this blog is primarily reserved for everything infertility but we are still on our break and, in all likelihood due to severe financial constraints while Jason is in school coupled with where we are emotionally, we won't be venturing down that path again while Jason pursues his doctorate (so thru 2015). But I have other things to say and since this is my "safe space," I plan to say them, infertility related or not.

As I was saying, just over three years ago, my life changed forever. Our life changed forever. Open heart surgery is no joke, and it was the most life altering, profound experience thus far in my 28 years. Lately, I've been feeling more and more that I need to talk about it, but in a way that is both cathartic as well as helpful to others, not just me rehashing the experience for the sake of reliving it. I have been through something most young people don't go through and I want to be there for someone else in a way that wasn't available to me. When I learned I would need heart surgery, I was filled with a fear that it truly hard to explain unless you have felt similar fear under similar circumstances. I had an amazing support group of family, friends and doctors but at the time, I didn't know anyone else with congenital heart disease, didn't know anyone else my age who had undergone open heart surgery, and felt so different, alone, and alienated. People tried but they couldn't truly understand, couldn't truly empathize. I yearned for a connection with another young survivor, even if just through a book. But no such book existed. At least not that I could find.

I graduated with a BA in Creative Writing. I have the skillset to embark on such a venture. I could write a book about my personal experience with heart surgery and life after. I could tell them what I felt, what I discovered, and how I arrived at feeling like myself again. I could write the book I wish I had been able to read during the darkest time in my life.

And I'm going to do it. I AM doing it.

It's been a long time coming, but it's time. I began working on the prologue on Monday night and wrote 4 pages, single spaced. I am so excited, so invigorated. I haven't felt like this in years. My writing has fallen by the wayside since I graduated 6 yrs ago. Some people write more when they're going through emotionally difficult life challenges, but it seems I am not one of those people. My creative juices dry up. For years, first with the infertility, then with the heart surgery and recovery, and eventually both, I could not find motivation or inspiration anywhere. I would write a poem every now and again, but they were far and few between. I am currently working on a children's book but the passion isn't quite there yet as it is with this project. With this book, I find myself looking forward to working on it. I daydream and brainstorm about topics to discuss and how to approach them. I write down chapter title ideas when they pop into my head and I feel a surge of excitement simmering below the surface just anticipating my next opportunity to write, to put it all down. It is overwhelming in some ways, too, because there is just so much. But I know that if I can just get it down on paper, and rework it bit by bit, that it'll get to where I want it to be. That it will become the ray of light for someone else that I so fervently wish it to be.

I want to reassure someone else out there that it will get better. That in time and with hard work, both emotionally as well as phyiscally, it gets better. I want them to know that what they feel is normal and real and important. That if they can just get through the surgery itself, through those first weeks of recovery, and focus on the bigger picture {LIFE} that one day, it will be okay again. I cannot guarantee that they will be the same, because I can't. Because they won't. An experience such as this leaves you forever changed. Everyone's situation is different and eveyone will experience it differently and "come out on the other side" in different ways. I needed a pacemaker. Others won't. I needed an ablation. Other's won't. But they may need things I didn't need. Maybe another surgery, maybe they'll struggle with chronic depression, maybe they'll need intense therapy, or maybe the surgery won't turn out as they had hoped and their prognosis will continue to be dire. But I want to try to be that hug they need, whatever their situation. Because I've been there, I've lived it, and I understand.

I am finally writing a book. And it fills me with an emotion I'm unaccustomed to feeling. I think it just may be Purpose. For a long time, especially when floundering through the hell of infertility, I felt as though I lacked purpose. My body wouldn't do what it was "meant" to do. I felt cheated. I felt angry and bitter. I lost a bit of myself. But I feel it coming back. Maybe this is another thing I'm "meant" to do. I haven't given up on having a family, but for now, I have found purpose, have found something that excites me, and makes me feel alive. And my goodness, I am so very grateful.

Grateful Life

Many friends are posting a different thing they are grateful for each day on Facebook, which is inspiring and fun, but since I tend to be wordy, I think I'll use this space to put my thoughts on the subject all in one place. Truly, I am thankful for this life.

I know that's quite all-encompassing and vague, but how fortunate am I to wake up each morning and experience another day? 3 yrs ago, I feared I wouldn't be so lucky. How blessed am I to have loving family and friends, to be supported and encouraged in all of my endeavors and dreams, to have shoulders to lean on during the trying times? I have a roof over my head, food in my cupboards, books on my shelves, music in my life, and I live in a country and in an era where I'm free to be ME. Sometimes (and truthfully, it tends to be more than just sometimes), I get bogged down by the things I wish I had, and I know that's normal because we all have dreams but I'd like to try and be more thankful year-round, find the good in the every day and though it's challenging, focus on what I do have instead of what I don't.

I am grateful for my husband, for my parents and family, for my friends, for my furry babies who make me smile, and for the chance to be a better me every day. I'm thankful for the joy I get from cooking and baking, for the anticipation of snow this winter, for my pacemaker which keeps me tickin', and even for my curly hair that looks "fancy" when all I've done is wash it. I'm thankful for poetry, for my love of writing, for children's books, for beautiful abandoned barns, for Christmas music and Christmas trees, and for hot showers after being out in the cold. I'm thankful for my memories, for the hope of a bright future, for the opportunities that await me if I just get off my butt and chase after them. I'm thankful for all that my parents sacrificed for me growing up, for my education, for gardening, for crafts, for the beauty of the ocean, for my favorite spot in the Wilcox property back home, for my emotions and my ability and willingness to feel them. I'm thankful for the good times I've experienced, and I'm thankful for the hard times because they, too, molded me into who I am. I'm thankful I have goals, I'm grateful for the wisdom others have shared with me, and I'm thankful for the relationships in my life.  My health, my job, my car, the library. Cookies, the smell of coffee brewing, going out, movies, laughter, photographs, warm fuzzy blankets, mascara, pumpkins, autumn, earrings, various shades of red, flowers, the sound of a wind-chime, that surge of confidence when you look in the mirror and like what you see staring back.

I could go on, but you get the idea. It's this life, this one, beautiful life, that I'm thankful for. All of it's up's and down's, it's triumphs and disappointments, the big and the little, they're special and unique to me and I'm so very grateful for it all. Thank you for being a part of it :)

Birthday tribute to my Angel Sister, Amanda Lauren

Dear Amanda,

Today, you would have been 31. Happy birthday to you, dear sister! 31 years ago, you were chosen to walk among the angels instead of live a life here with us on Earth. The more of life that I experience, the more challenges faced, I realize more and more the immensity of your loss and the effect it had on all of us, even those of us who came after. How our lives would have been different. Had you lived, I may not have been. Mom and Dad tried for so long to get you, suffered so much heartache and sorrow, that you would have been their miracle baby. Would they have had the desire, the will, to try for another? Would they have mustered the strength to take the risk, possibly enduring further heartache? It is an odd thing to ponder. Still, you are indeed a miracle. It is an honor to share a middle name with you, but as you know, we share far more than that. I believe you are with us every day, in our hearts and in spirit. You are so very loved. Always.

This summer, Mom showed me the only picture of you that she has, the ultrasound picture of you at approximately 7 months, just 2 short months before you were born sleeping. I’ve grown up knowing your story and honoring your memory, missing you even though we’d never met, but that picture brought me to tears because there you were. Heart beating, little body growing, very much alive, captured forever in time in that one photograph. It upsets me that the doctors or someone in the room when you were born didn’t take a picture of you for us to keep. It would have been hard to see but at least I could have seen you, and at least there would be another picture of you besides that one ultrasound and the ones taken of your tiny little white coffin at your funeral. Did you know that Grandma Kendrick kept a purple flower from your service pressed between her family Bible? She wore purple quite often and now I sometimes wonder if she wore it to honor your memory.

Even though we’ve never shared moments like other sisters do, I know I’ve been blessed to have my sister by my side. I know you’re there, always. I’m grateful you were there to greet our grandparents when they passed on, and that you get to spend time with them now and have gotten to know them and love them as I did here on Earth. I’m happy you were there to greet our little one when he/she left us just last year, gone far, far too soon. That was a comfort to me, and I know you know that. I know you were with me in the operating room three years ago, standing by my side, holding my hand, when no one else could be. And even though I’ve never seen your face, I feel as though I have. I envision you have long brown hair, probably thick and wavy like Mom’s was. But perhaps you would have cut it shorter as you aged. Would you have glasses? Maybe you’d need them but I think you’d wear contacts and I think you’d have Dad’s brown eyes. I think our noses would be similar but maybe yours would be smaller and a bit upturned like Mom’s and Grandma’s. For some reason, I think you’d take after Mom’s side more, like I take after Dad’s, so I envision you’d be taller than me. Would you be married or have a partner? Would I be an auntie? What would you do for a living? Would you be language/word oriented like me, or more math minded? Would you have played an instrument, or been more athletic? Would we have quarreled growing up, like siblings often do? 

As I grow older, and especially around the holidays when people gather together with their families, I often think of you and miss you all the more – because you should be here too, you know? Really here, smiling right beside us in the family photos, arm slung around my shoulder or hugging me close, helping cook the Thanksgiving feast, exchanging gifts, laughing at old stories with our family, sipping a beer or a glass of wine, enjoying a slice of my famous pecan pie. And because of our own loss last year, I've come to understand more and more the pain of what would have been. That’s what hurts the most, I think, the knowledge that there is so much that you’ve missed, that we’ve all missed, with each passing year that goes by and you’re still gone. I wish you could know the love, the immense love, that we all share for one another, our family. At my lowest points, I’ve talked to you and I know you’ve heard me but what I wouldn’t have given to pick up a phone and call my sister, hear your voice on the other end telling me it was going to be alright, that I just had to take it one day at a time, that you loved me and were there. Maybe that’s an idealistic view of what our relationship would be like, because I really have no idea, but our family is close and always has been, so I cannot imagine we wouldn’t be best friends, that I couldn’t call you for support or advice. And maybe you wouldn’t have all the answers or even say all the right things all of the time, but I know you would’ve cared and would’ve tried your best. 

So today you’re 31. Usually, I’d go to the cemetery to lay flowers on your gravestone, and tidy up your plot. Sometimes I’d go alone or with Mom or Jason but this year, I can’t go at all and that is hard for me. I know it doesn’t matter to you, because you’re in our hearts and always with us, but it means something to me that I won’t be there. Thank you for watching over us all, for being the beautiful soul I know you are. Thank you for being with me in spirit – and for being with Mom and Dad when they've needed to feel your love. I can’t see you but I know you’re there and when times have been especially hard, and when I have known great fear, you have been a comfort to me, assuring me through the wind or the rustle of leaves, the melodic tinkle of a windchime or the crash of the ocean upon the shore, that it will be alright. It will all be alright.

Much love to you today and everyday,
Me

Angel anniversary

One year ago, we said good-bye. One year ago, we faced a reality that we weren't ready to face. A reality we would never have been ready to face. And today, we look back on the year and realize just how hard it was. How hard it still is. And how much has changed.

It's hard to believe that you would almost be 5 months old. What would you look like? What would your favorite toy be? What would make you smile? I just can't imagine. Partly because I really don't know, but mostly because it hurts too much to think about it for too long. So I've chosen, today being the exception, to not imagine those things. "What might have been" is too powerful a game to play.

We fought so hard for you, baby, so very hard. But in the end, you just weren't meant to stay. You were too perfect for this place, too beautiful and you belonged among the angels. I won't ever profess to know why, because I simply do not understand why we were blessed with you only to have the end come far too soon. But I do know this: you are loved. Beyond measure. We never got to see your face, or hold you in our arms, and we'll never get to watch you grow up and discover the person you would have been, the person you were meant to be, but you will forever be our little twinkie.

True, I find myself feeling sad today but it's not all about sorrow. There is joy, too. I feel blessed to have been given the gift of feeling life growing from within, if even for just a short while. My body began to change and with it, I changed. We changed. Even though you are not here with us today, little one, you left a lasting impression on our hearts. We love you, for always.

"Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart." -- Winnie the Pooh

One year ago Wednesday

One year ago Wednesday, which was September 19, 2011 we found out that, at long last, after so much time and hoping and praying and wishing, we were expecting our first baby. I can remember the moment as if it were yesterday, and not a full long year ago. It was one of the happiest moments of my life, right up there with my wedding day. And as you know, it was not meant to last.

This year, I spent half of the day in the hospital. I had a random atrial fibrillation event that started on Tuesday afternoon (9/18) landed me in the ER and then CCU. I'm ok, they got my heart rate to stabilize and I was released late morning on the 19th but it was a hard day, for more reasons than one.

We moved to Bloomington, IN early last month so this was the first time I was in the hospital so far away from home, from our family and friends, from my trusted UCLA doctors. We did not expect this to occur and it took us completely by surprise. They don't know why it happened and it could happen again. It is not reassuring to feel like I'm a walking ticking time bomb. And it is beyond frustrating that, after nearly 2.5 years cardiac issue free, I'm back to being afraid. It really REALLY scared me. My heart rate was over 200 beats per minute by the time I got hooked up to the monitors in the ER and I was absolutely terrified. I cannot describe how it feels to feel your heart racing, faster and faster and faster, to feel your body start to internally panic, to feel your body automatically respond, and to not have any control over any of it. I went in to survival mode, trying to get up off the gurney, trying to push the nurse away who was attempting to put an IV in my arm to administer heart medication and ativan to calm me down, and I kept saying over and over again that I didn't want to die, please help me, please tell me what's going on, please help me, I can't die today. Needless to say, it was traumatizing. Again. I'm 28 years old. This is too much reality for someone my age, and I've been in this place too many times over the last few years. I'm over it. This is a lot for my husband and I to deal with. He was fantastic, as usual, reciting my heart health history to the ER doctor like a champ, while holding on to my hand, telling me I was going to be fine, telling the nurse to turn off the sound to the heart monitor because it stresses me out. He knew what to do. He was great. Even through his own anxiety about what was going on, he was my hero. But man oh man, this is just too much, you know?

Anyway, a whole year has gone by since that wonderful, glorious day. And I still don't understand why it had to end the way it did. I'm fairly certain I'll never know, and perhaps that's the way it's supposed to be.

Yes, I'm still here

Moving is in full swing: mountains of boxes, stuff piled up in every available corner waiting to be placed in a box, lists of various tasks to be done here and there and everywhere. We are feeling the pressure, feeling sad about the reality of leaving our family and friends, but wading through each day like champs.

And we are on a break from building our family. Officially. And no, I'm not sure when we'll be "back." Honestly, I can't focus on that aspect of our life at the moment. We have to focus on us for a change, the bigger "us": our marriage, and "us" as individuals. Somewhere along the line we kind of forgot to really live -- looking back at the last four years, it has become crystal clear that our lives were on hold, waiting, waiting, always waiting. And it wasn't fair. We've missed out on so much and pieces of our true selves were buried deep under the mud and grime of infertility treatments and the despair that followed each and every failed cycle.

Life is too short, you know?

So I'm still here, just in a different place, a different capacity. My period arrived today, after a long 44 day cycle. I suppose it's fitting that I write on what I would have normally referred to as CD 1 -- only this time, CD 1 doesn't mean a damn thing. But I needed to write, because that's what I've always done on this day. I guess some habits are hard to break. And at the end of this cycle, I am going back on birth control. If we're not actively trying, my crazy cycle lengths are too crazy for me to deal with.  44 days was bliss in comparison to what I've endured in the past. Med-free, I was no stranger to 50 day cycles, 70 day cycles. Once, even a 91 day cycle. I felt like I was going bat-shit crazy. Nope. I refuse to do this to myself right now. I want to feel good, I want to be REGULAR. The best treatment for my PCOS is the birth control pill. In addition to regulating my cycles, my cysts will be managed, my lining won't get uber thick as time marches on between bleeds which keeps my risk of uterine cancer down {so many lovely things associated with PCOS}. So there you go. This infertile myrtle is taking charge, and taking the time to find herself again, which includes sessions with a health coach where we address my tendencies toward anxiety and my low self-esteem and skewed self-image. I'm not going to take my life for granted, not anymore. Each day is a blessing. I learned that in 2009 when I had open heart surgery but I think it took some time to really sink in.

Anyway, I've missed writing but really, there isn't much to say right now in terms of fertility. My life is not revolving around the pursuit of baby. It feels odd. It feels foreign, but also, it is liberating. Do we still want kids? Absolutely. But right now, after 4 long years, we are just tired and in need of a reboot. The next time I write, I will be doing so from a whole new state. See ya on the flip-side, and if you're still reading, thank you for your support!! When we come off this break, I hope you'll still be following along!

Due date

Today, May 27th was my estimated due date with our pregnancy that we lost last October. It's kind of a bittersweet weekend, because my husband graduated with his Master's degree yesterday. In September, we were worrying/joking about what we would do if I were to go into labor during his graduation. Funny how life has other plans...

I'm ok today. After our loss, I thought this day would be so hard but in reality, I feel mostly wistful. What could have been, you know? I don't know. I wish things were different, that my belly was bulging to capacity with life but alas, it wasn't meant to be. I suppose it's sometimes just as simple as that.

We're taking a break and then, IVF

My period arrived today. I was supposed to test tomorrow but again, for the 3rd time in a row, that won't be necessary. I am filled with so many emotions, many of them obvious but also, a few that are taking me by surprise. Near the top of the list? Relief. Please don't misunderstand. I wanted this to work more than anything, and up until this morning, really thought it might be our month {as usual, I had all the right symptoms} but I'm so tired. And this period means the end for awhile. The end of the medications and all of their fun side effects, the doctor appointments, counting days on the calendar to see if any of the month's treatment will ruin any plans we've already made, trying to figure out how to get a day off of work for my procedures, analyzing every twinge, eating all the right things and feeling guilty if I "cheat", writing checks for procedures and meds we really can't afford, worrying worrying worrying and worrying some more. It's over for awhile. We can rest. Refocus and recharge.

But more than anything? Sadness. Disbelief. I can't believe that, barring some miracle, 2012 will be another lost year for us in regards to building our family. I started this year out strong, really feeling deep down that this year was going to be different. And in many ways, it will be different. Our upcoming move to Indiana will be a fresh new start for us: new state, new town, new home, new school, new job, new fertility clinic. We'll discover new places to explore, make some new friends, and make new memories. It will be a good year, but there will still be a big piece missing.

If we can figure out a way to swing it financially, we'd like to try our first round of IVF in December of this year {IVF...seriously, how did it come to this??}. If we can't swing it by then, we'll push that first round to the summer of 2013. Over a year from now. That thought makes me almost physically ill. But you know what? If I'm being honest, and I really want to be honest, I have some real work to do on me. I have developed some serious self esteem issues. I want to be able to find the beauty and goodness in every day. I want to be happy, really happy again, baby or no baby. I am more than my uterus. I don't want wake up one day and find that decades have passed me by, that I wasted my best years being sad, angry, and bitter.

So, like it or not, we're taking a break from treatment. Who knows, maybe we'll be blessed with a miracle between now and our first round of IVF. Stranger things have happened. But I can't bank on that. The reality is that our journey is taking us in a direction we never thought we'd have to go, and we can't shy away from walking that road. If it leads us to our baby, it's a path we have to take.

I'm scared. Terrified. But strangely enough, I'm also hopeful. And so very grateful for your support. I want to thank you for following along this far, and I hope you'll bear with me as we enter in to this next stage. I obviously won't be updating this blog nearly as much, but come late Fall/early Winter, I hope, really hope, you'll continue to follow our story.

Come What May

May. Each year since 2008, May has presented me with a challenge. That challenge is Mother's Day. But this year, May comes with two challenging days: Mother's Day {which would have been my first as an expectant mother} and my due date, May 27. Or what would have been {should have been} my due date. This year will be especially difficult for me, for obvious reasons. Normally, I spend it with my mom but this year we won't be making the trip home. But I want to do something. Because even though our child will not be born into our arms this month as it would have/should have been, and even though our child is not here with us on Earth, I am still a Mother. Maybe not in the conventional way that is readily accepted by society, but I am. Or, I would have been. My child lives in my heart, and I want to do something to honor that on May 13th but I can't decide how. It feels odd somehow, wrong even. Like I'm a phony, posing as something I'm not. Is that weird? It feels weird, and that makes me sad.

I don't know. The concept of being a mother even though I don't have a living child is something I've struggled with since the miscarriage. It feels wrong to say it. When someone asks me if we have any children, I don't say yes. But at the same time, we lost a baby. It didn't have a heartbeat yet, but had it continued to grow and develop...it would have been our first child. But is "would have been" the same as, "is"? No, but in my heart...yes.

And May 27th is a day that I just want to get through. It will be a hard day. I know most women don't give birth on their given due dates but it's a marker that you carry with you all through your pregnancy, the intended goal. And if I can just get through it without breaking down completely, I will count it as a success.

***

That all being said, I am making real concerted efforts to find ME again; focus on the positives, turn my face away from the shade and into the warm light of the sun. Whatever the outcome of this last IUI {which we will find out next week}, pregnancy or no, come what may, we fully intend to embrace it. Whatever will be, will be. Will I be disappointed and emotional if this month doesn't work out? Absolutely. But I can't let it ruin me. It will be another road block, but there is still hope. Always hope. Without it, why bother? And we are both so very tired that a break might be just what we need: time to reconnect, explore our new surroundings once we've made our big move this summer, re-focus, re-energize, get our heads (and finances) wrapped around the next step towards making our dream of parenthood a reality.

But first: May. One step {one month} at a time.

And now, we hope, pray...and wait

All went well. J's sample was even better than the last few IUI's by 15 million! We have opted to not get my blood drawn on CD 21 to check my progesterone level. It was solid last time and the doctor really didn't think it would be necessary to check the level this time, as it really only checks for proof of ovulation and by that point, what does it matter? If for some odd reason the HCG shot didn't work, there's nothing that can be done to correct it at that point in my cycle. Also, it costs us over $100 to get same-day results and it's just not necessary. We'll just have to trust that I ovulated (which will be hard for me, but I suppose it'll be an exercise in faith) and then wait until I can test...or until my period arrives, whichever comes first.

I'm trying, really trying, to not think too much about this cycle, to not have expectations that far exceed reality and to just have confidence in my body, confidence in my doctor, and trust that whatever is meant to happen will indeed happen. But, it's so very hard. If this cycle fails, we are left with IVF, and that is something we never thought we'd have to face. Or rather, something we hoped we'd never have to face. It takes daily effort to remain optimistic and to not fall prey to my own negative thoughts and emotions about where we are. Much of the time, I am at peace but there are moments when the uncertainty of it all is overwhelming and I feel so alone, even with our wonderful support network, as so many of our friends have children and we still do not. I cannot fathom entering into 2013 without knowing when we'll become parents, or how. So, as brave as I try to be, I'm still scared, and still hurting. But, truthfully, I am so thankful to be so busy with other things as we prepare for our big move. It helps to have other things to focus my energy on, and to have something positive to prepare for. 

I thank you for your thoughts, for your prayers, for following along on our journey, and for commenting when you have the time. We truly appreciate your support, and I know I say that often, but it's true, so I keep saying it because I never want you to forget it. Thank you.

Will slow and steady win the race?

Yesterday's follicle check appointment went well. I have two dominant follicles on my right ovary, both of which were about 13.5/14mm in size on CD 12. They are a bit small but are not showing any signs of deflating (each follicle is pressurized and if they are viable follicles that will continue to grow in time, they should look like puffy balloons, which they do). But, they do need a few more days to reach their target size. In short, they are slow but steady growing eggs, which is just fine with us. He said we are lucky to have gotten 2 eggs with the Femara (and super lucky last time to have gotten potentially 3!) because oftentimes only one egg is dominant when taking that med, which was the case for months before we increased our dosage. Once they reach about 14mm, they will continue to grow at a rate of 2-3mm per day so by Monday night, they will be over 20mm each, which is great!

My uterine lining was 8.5 (last cycle was 5) which the doctor said was right on target, and again, it was trilaminar pattern (preferred) so the added estrogen did it's job! Thank God, because I actually had an adverse reaction to the particular estrogen brand I was put on. I broke out in a rash on Thursday afternoon (which I still have, but at least it no longer itches) and was told to stop taking it and take some benadryl. According to my clinic, it is rare for someone to develop a rash as a result of taking that hormone but it doesn't surprise me, as I'm very sensitive to medication of any kind. The rash looks like a bad heat rash and it's all over my neck, up to my chin and wraps all the way around to my ears. Very attractive, as you can imagine. My face has also broken out in small raised pimply-like bumps (particularly my forehead, but is also starting to appear in patches on my neck and jaw-line) which is VERY unusual for me...I've been very fortunate to be blessed with smooth, acne-free skin my entire life so it's unsettling to have such skin issues right now.

I take my HCG shot on Sunday evening and the IUI is scheduled for Tuesday morning. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers, as this will be our final attempt at IUI. If this one doesn't take, we will be taking a break until we can afford IVF. {Confession: I've been bad and have been googling the IVF procedure. The thought of undergoing IVF really unnerves me given my reaction to the addition of a low dose of estrogen...I shudder to think what will happen to me if I am taking shots of high levels of hormone for weeks at a time...}. I feel at peace with where we are on this journey, finally, but that doesn't mean I'm not wishing, hoping and praying that this is it for us, the month we've been waiting for. We've done all we can do, so we shall see how this cycle pans out. Maybe for us, 6 time's a charm. :)

Cashing in our final attempt at IUI

This is a long one, but I have a lot to say so bear with me and here we go:

Today is CD 6. I starting taking my Femara 7.5mg on Wednesday night, and this time, we're adding 2mg of estrogen 2x a day beginning CD 9 until the day of my HCG shot to combat the thin lining issue we had last month. I have an ultrasound Friday, April 20 to check follicle growth and find out when our IUI will be. And yes, it will be our last attempt.

After consulting our schedules and calendar, this month was the only time we could do it between now and moving to Indiana in August. We're going to Hawaii at the beginning of next month to visit family (remember that trip we had to cancel in October because of our miscarriage? Well, we re-booked it and we're finally going to meet our niece!) and Jason graduates at the end of May. Then, we're packing up our life and moving home at the end of June, staying with my mom for the month of July (making a trip out to Indiana at the beginning of the month to find a place to live) before hitting the road late July/early August towards our new home in the mid-west. WHEW! Still with me? So, April was it. It, it. 

I had a lengthy conversation with our doctor on Tuesday night. I asked all of my questions and got thorough, honest answers. Among other questions, the following were some of the answers I got: Yes, I can fly during the last few days of the 2WW. No, he can't say why this last cycle didn't work because there is no way of knowing, but the thinner lining could have played a role. Yes, this is often why IVF is recommended to women with PCOS because even with 3 eggs and near perfect circumstances, there's no way to know if any of those eggs were viable. And finally, the question I was dreading asking but knew I had to: the dreaded IVF question. I broached the subject by saying that my last doctor at the other clinic (who is extremely well known in the IF world, particularly in the field of IVF) had told us that it was his professional opinion that I would need IVF to conceive a healthy baby. This was nearly 2 years ago and I didn't want to hear it. On top of that, we couldn't afford it, and still can't. At the time, I thought, "I'm 26, there's no way that can be the truth. He's just trying to take the "easy" route and get us to pay more money." So I asked my current Dr. what his professional opinion was, considering all we've done and been through, and after all the time that has passed. He was quiet for a moment, and very carefully chose his words. He said he agreed with the last doctor's prognosis, and that if this next IUI didn't work {it would be our 6th}, it would be in our best interest to proceed to IVF. Like my last RE, he also added that there is no good reason why I'm not conceiving, that it's a bit of a mystery. Everything is lining up. Everything is happening as it should. With help, yes, but it's happening and yet, we've not been successful but for that one time. He added that because they're treating all of my PCOS symptoms, and it's still not working, I'm moving quite close to the "unexplained infertility" category, which is not a good category. Tougher to diagnose, tougher to treat, tougher to achieve success because they don't know why you're not conceiving and staying pregnant. It was hard to hear, but it didn't surprise me. Deep down, I knew what his answer would be. Nearly 3.5 years of treatment and nothing to show for it. I knew it was coming. I didn't cry, didn't get upset, just thanked him for his honesty. And I meant it. 

So here we are. And you know, I don't feel like I thought I would. I thought I would be consumed by anxiety, consumed by a desperation for success. But I'm not. I feel like it is what it is, and that's all that it is. We have one more chance. There's hope, but it's not that strong. Not anymore. And oddly enough, it's liberating somehow. Of course I'm hoping with all that I have that it works, that our prayers are answered, and our dreams realized but there's a sense of calm about it this time. This is it. And if it doesn't work, we'll take a break. I'm so tired. Tired enough to welcome that break should it come, and we have so much going on right now, much of which is overwhelming and exciting in it's own right, and I don't have time to devote all my energy towards this outcome. I just don't. Not with all the planning and packing and trying to get things in order to move so far away. Much of my thoughts are on that now. And maybe it's a good thing. Life goes on. Life goes forward. We'll start a new chapter in Indiana, and we'll resume our journey there should we need to, after we save up some money to do what needs to be done. I'm not giving up, just giving in to what is. If it's meant to be, then it will be. If it's not, I can't change it. I've tried for 3.5 years and it doesn't work that way. 

It's strange to find myself in this place and not feel the pressure of desperation pressing down on me. Maybe that will change in the coming weeks, but I hope it doesn't. I'm so exhausted from trying to control every aspect of this journey and I simply can't go on like that anymore. I have to live my life as best I can, in spite of disappointments and in spite of bitter trials. I am more than this, and I need to work on finding ME again, work on doing what makes me happy because this life is precious and I won't spend the rest of it being sad or angry all the time. Please keep us in your thoughts - your positive energy is felt, trust me.

Somehow, it has come down to this

Since beginning this journey in January 2008, I/he/we have endured:

-37 months of infertility treatments
-2 different kinds of ovulation inducing and egg growth stimulation medications
-1 hysteropingogram (dye test involving my tubes and uterus)
-1 open heart surgery
-1 pacemaker implant
-13 months of recovery and rehabilitation for said surgery and implant
-5 IUI's
-2 infertility clinics
-3 infertility doctors
-16 months of Metformin
-2 trips to the ER, one of which was IF related
-1 semen analysis
-5 sperm washes
-3 full blood panels
-a sad good-bye to well over $10,000
-countless blood tests
-countless intravaginal ultrasounds
-4 HCG shots
-8 wks of a pregnancy
-1 miscarriage

....and a freaking partridge in a pear tree. There is more. Lots more. I didn't count the times I cried myself to sleep. Or factor in how I don't feel like myself anymore, how many times I've looked in the mirror and not recognized the sad face staring back. The hours, days, weeks, months, and now years that we've spent yearning for a child. The times I've given up hanging out with friends because I don't feel well due to the side effects of the medications I take, or I'm too sad to even try to pretend that I'm not. The times I've had to tell family and friends that it didn't work, again, still. The boxes of ovulation kits, and pregnancy tests. The number of holidays we've spent childless. The prayers I've prayed; the wishes I've wished going through a tunnel, on stars, blowing out birthday candles; the goddamn pain we've both endured for far too long. This is our reality.

The list really could go on and on and on...but what's the point? It doesn't matter, not really, because our dream of parenthood has still not been realized. This post is not meant to make you feel sorry for me, for us. If you've been blessed with children, it's certainly not meant to make you feel guilty for what you have. I love children. I love my family and friend's children. But this is my space to process what we've gone through and what we continue to face. Some people on a journey like ours have lost more, suffered more, been on the road longer, but infertility isn't about who's had it worse. It's about community and finding comfort and solace in similar situations, and knowing that you're not alone when the going gets tough. So this is our infertility story, and I wish it were different. But it's not, and I can only hope that one day, it all makes sense.

***

And somehow, it's come down to this: one more try. My period arrived today. We leave for Indiana at the end of July and we leave our current city for our hometown in less than 3 months. At this point, we are on a tight time schedule. We haven't quite figured out when we'll cash in our last try at IUI. Maybe this month. Maybe next month. Maybe in June. Part of me wants to take a break for a month, but my cycles are so crazy one month could easily give way to two or, as the case has been at times, more. So, most likely, due to our timeline, it will be this month. I'll let you know when I know.

We're just so tired. Of all of this. We just want to be parents. I've asked it before, but looking at my list and how much time has gone by, how much we've had to put up with and how much of ourselves we've had to give up and how much has been lost, I can't help but ask it again: Is what we want, to be parents, to hold our baby in our arms, Is that really too much to ask?

Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."

I caved and tested today instead of tomorrow. Why? Because I saw a hint of pink on the toilet paper this afternoon and went ape-shit crazy. And it was what I feared it would be: negative.

The best word to describe how I am feeling is disconsolate. I don't know how much longer I can do this. Everything in me wants to scream and break things and just walk away from this hell without a backward glance. But I can't because I want a child so badly and walking away from this journey won't solve the problem. I feel absolutely foolish for allowing myself to actually believe that this might be it for us, the month we've been praying so hard for. After all, we had 3 eggs. 3 eggs and the IUI still failed. My eggs were released by an HCG shot, sperm was injected directly into my uterus, and it still didn't work. Everything is being done for me and I still can't make it happen. I failed. Again. I can't tell you how depressing that knowledge is. And yes, I know it is not my "fault." Jason gets frustrated with me when I blame it on myself, which makes me love him all the more. I know I didn't ask for this, or do anything to cause it. But the fact of the matter is, we're childless because of my PCOS. We've endured nearly 3 1/2 years of this nightmare because of my crappy ovaries and messed up hormones.

Up until yesterday evening, I thought for sure my period was coming. Then I started having horrible gas pains and cramping in my abdomen, which is highly unusual for me pre-period. A glimmer of hope shimmered into view. That coupled with the fact that my boobs were so very sore (which is also odd because my breast tenderness usually disappears before my period starts) and still are, got me to thinking that maybe, just maybe I was wrong. I so desperately wanted to be wrong. And then this morning, I had diarrhea. Not proud to admit that, but I did, and that is something that has never happened pre-period, ever. And then, the pink a few hours later, which led to the negative test. At this juncture, I just don't know what to think.

I suppose until my period actually arrives, there is still hope. But I just can't allow myself to hold on to it. I can't, because that would be opening myself up to more hurt and I hurt so badly right now that I don't have any room for more pain. So I guess I will be pleasantly shocked if that negative ends up being a positive in a few days. If my period is still not here through tonight and tomorrow, I will test again on Monday morning. We shall see what the coming days bring but I am not holding my breath.

If this cycle is truly a bust, we will try one more time. One more IUI. And if that fails, we will have to begin saving for IVF, a prospect that terrifies me and makes me so very sad. We can't afford it, so it would be a few years down the line for us, and I simply cannot fathom having to live child-free for a few more years. A few more years of child-less holidays; a few more years of watching the children of our family and friends grow up; a few more years of watching our friends and family achieve our dream of parenthood ahead of us while we continue to wait on the sidelines. The thought of that becoming our reality is...well, there just aren't words. I never thought we'd be 5 IUI's in and still without a baby in our arms.

Thank you for your support and love. I know that I would be an absolute wreck without it (which is frightening because I skirt that line sometimes a bit too closely as it is), and I thank you for reading and commenting because although this is a path that Jason and I must walk on our own in many respects, knowing that we have you all on our side does help. Having this space to write out my feelings and process my thoughts is therapeutic and as much as I fervently wish I didn't need it, I am so thankful for it at this time in my life.

"When the world says, "give up," Hope whispers, "try it one more time."

Wavering

It's happened. I've hit the day during the two week wait where I start looking for the period-like symptoms to make their appearance, so much so that I almost expect it. My faith is wavering. I've had some symptoms that are encouraging but I've also had some wavering symptoms that have me worried. I can't believe we still have 4 more days to wait.

You guys, I know it's premature but I'm so SO scared this is yet another failed cycle. I know we had 2 maybe 3 eggs. I know I ovulated. I know the sperm were awesome. I know my lining was a bit thinnish but trilaminar and thus, superior. I know all of this. I know I know I know. But even with all of this, I also know it may not work. I have PCOS. I am infertile. If this doesn't work, if we aren't pregnant, I will be heart broken. Again. Still.

Please say a prayer, send up some positive energy and keep us in your thoughts. If this cycle doesn't work, we only have ONE MORE IUI opportunity before they tell us we need to move on to IVF. We can't afford it. We would have to save for years. So please. Please please please put in a good word for us. And please, if you have a moment, leave me some encouragement here to help get me through these last few days of waiting. I feel my hope slipping away and I can't go there.

One step closer!

Today has been a fabulous day. For starters, my husband was accepted into a doctoral program at the 2nd best school of music in the country!!!! Amazing, wonderful, thrilling news. Which also means we need to move cross country by August...but we'll think about that later. I couldn't be prouder of him, he is so talented and I know I'm biased but whatever, I don't care. :)

Secondly, I ovulated!! They like to see levels above 10 and mine was 16 so go me! haha What we know: I produced 2, possibly 3, lovely eggs this cycle, and these 2 possibly 3 eggs were released. My lining was a tad thin but trilaminar so that was in my favor. Jason had a fab sample so now, we pray that sperm met egg (or eggs...) and are nestling safely and happily in my uterus. If so, grow, baby, grow!! We shall see in 8 more days.

One step closer....

Nearly half way

Good Lord, this whole waiting thing is awful!! Every twinge, every little this, every little that (or lack thereof) is sheer torture. I just want to know already!!

I go in for my progesterone lab work tomorrow morning, from which they'll be able to determine whether or not I ovulated. I cannot fathom how disappointed I would be if the results didn't show signs of O...I don't even want to go there, because then it would be like we never even had a shot this cycle and I can't believe that. I won't believe that. Only positive thoughts.

Today is 6 dpo (or, 6 dpiui). 9 more days to go! Please keep praying/sending out those good vibes!

Third times a charm, right?

We had our third IUI this morning (well, if we're being literal, it was our 5th but third with the new doctor), and everything went really well!

The doctor we like (Dr. N) did the procedure. Dr. Sunshine (aka, the Dr. I don't like) did our ultrasound on Wednesday so we hadn't seen Dr. N until this morning. He said he was pleased with my follicle size and the number of follicles, reiterating that the 3rd "bonus egg" may or may not make it to maturity in time for ovulation. Jason's "deposit" was stellar once again: 44 million per milliliter after it was washed and spun (meaning that the 44 million was the remaining Michael Phelps of the bunch) and activated once again (ie ready to hit their mark). To give you some perspective on that number, Dr. N said that they like to see anything above 5 million per milliliter post wash, so we're good on that front. :) My cervical mucus (sorry, TMI, but hey, it's my life so you all get to hear about it!) was "beautiful" (yea, weird, I know) which is great because it creates a nice environment for the sperm to hang out in until their "targets" make their grand entrance. The only thing that I don't feel great about (so of course, I'm focusing way too much on it) is my uterine lining. On Wednesday, it was only 5mm. They like to see it closer to 8 or higher. The thought is that the higher medication dosage caused the thinner lining. It can happen, but since my lining has always been nice and thick, they didn't know it would happen to me. Well, now we know but it's unfortunately too late to do anything about it. BUT! He did stress that they're not too concerned about it because my lining, while being borderline thin, is a nice trilaminar pattern (more oftentimes referred to as "triple stripe.") Apparently, uterine lining that is trilaminar is preferable to non-triple stripe lining, in that it shows that the surface of the endometrium is more favorable to embryo implantation. It would be more of a concern if my lining was the same and not triple striped, or even thicker and not triple striped. So, in short, triple striped is good! He also said that my lining will continue to thicken until ovulation (which they think will happen sometime today) and the shot of HCG that I received yesterday also gives the uterine lining an extra boost, so it would be safe to assume  that my lining is thicker now than it was two days ago.  If (if!) we don't conceive this time, he said he'd like to do the same medication dosage again, but he would give me estrogen CD 8 -12 to give extra support to uterine lining growth. I wish we had known this was going to happen going in to this cycle, but unfortunately, infertility treatments tend to be a lot of trial and error, and learning as we go.

So, there you have it! I go in for a blood test on Friday, March 30 to check my progesterone levels for signs of ovulation, and then if my period doesn't arrive, I can test for pregnancy on Easter Sunday. Please, keep us in your thoughts and prayers. I'm going to try super hard to be nothing but optimistic, and focus on all the positives we have with this cycle. It's far too easy to fall in to the "but everything wasn't 100% perfect, so it's going to fail" mentality. As my cousin pointed out, I'm under a microscope and knowing so much about my cycles just makes it more difficult to not focus on the percentages, odds, and numbers. Most couples don't know anything about their reproductive inner-workings: they just do their thing and after a time, they get pregnant. So I need to try and put the terminology and statistcs out of my mind, and focus now on the possibilities.

It's true, nothing's guaranteed. We may not get pregnant this cycle. But we could. We really, truly could. How's that for odds? :)

Seeing...triple??

I had my pre-IUI follicle check today and it went so great! The higher dosage did its job and I have not one, not two, but potentially THREE mature follicles!! I was blown away. I was hopeful for two but the third was really an unexpected surprise. Now, there's a chance that the third won't reach maturity. Today is CD 12 and the two on my left ovary were both 17mm this morning and will be 20+ by time of ovulation. The bonus egg on my right is 14mm, but he said there's a 50/50 chance it'll reach maturity in time. Eggs grow 1-2mm per day and the doctor suspected I would ovulate sometime Friday evening. I get my HCG trigger shot tomorrow morning at 7am and our IUI will be Friday morning.

We are thrilled that the meds actually did their job, and can't help but revel in the hope that this will be our month. It's not guaranteed. It never is. Even with two (or three) eggs, we might come to the end of the 2WW with nothing to show for it but pink on the toilet paper. But! What if we get a beautiful, positive pregnancy test? A beautiful, positive pregnancy test that leads us to our beautiful miracle? The possibility is there. And it is glorious. :)

Dawn of a new day

Ok. So I grieved on Saturday. I was angry, frustrated, sad, and disappointed. But then the weirdest thing happened on Sunday - I was overcome by a feeling of quiet calm and peace. After some reflection, I realized something very important: I was not in a good place throughout the duration of my last cycle. From day one I was skeptical, anxious, pessimistic, and scared. It got worse when we had our ultrasound to see how many eggs we'd have for our IUI (you remember, the one "lousy" egg). I wasn't in a good emotional place or mental state, at all, borderline obsessive. You can't just throw out negative energy that intensely and expect something good to happen. It's hard because I've been crazy optimistic before and that hasn't gotten me anywhere either. But honestly, it has to be healthier to heir on the side of optimism as opposed to it's arch nemesis, the glass half empty approach.

What does my new outlook include, you ask? Following my fertility diet (ever since our miscarriage, I've kind of loosened up on that one so it's time to rein it in), exercising a few times a week, and trying, really trying, to be optimistic and calm. That's the hardest for me. I'm so jaded, but it's not going to do me any good to focus on the bad when I could be focusing {and dreaming!} about the good. Why not try to remain hopeful for what very well could be our best cycle yet, instead of obsessing about what might go wrong?

So far, I've impressed myself. I've kept to my diet, exercised 2x this week, and have remained focused and optimistic about this cycle. For whatever reason, I just feel GOOD. First thing Monday morning, I contacted my clinic and got the OK from my doctor to try 7.5mg of Femara this cycle (which is the highest dosage I can be on). Today is CD 6, day 4 of the Femara, and it's been ok. The only real difference I'm noticing, at least thus far, is that I'm having night sweats. Not fun. It's a listed side effect but one I hadn't experienced until now. Our follicle check ultrasound is next Wednesday morning at 8am. I'm hoping and praying for more than one mature follicle OR a super awesome lone egg. Either would be great. Our IUI will either be next Friday or Saturday.

I don't have rose colored glasses on. I'm not popping happy pills. I'm still sad, angry, disappointed, and frustrated about where we are so long after beginning this journey. But I'm actively trying to keep those emotions in check, and only allow them out for restricted lengths of time when appropriate. It's good to grieve, normal and natural to feel what I feel, to let it out when I need to, but then it's time to put that grief in it's place, stand up tall, and forge ahead. I know we won't get anywhere unless we keep going, keep trying. I don't want to let that bitter woman I can sometimes be take over and be me all of the time. I'm so much more than that person. I have so much more to offer the world than what I can or cannot grow in my womb. I won't let infertility beat me. I've been through a whole lotta hell and I'm stronger than it is, I know I am. The 7 inch scar down the center of my chest if proof. I just have to remember that I am, and trust that I am, and believe that I am, and one day, I'll be the victor, not the victim. Maybe that someday is rapidly approaching.

I believe it is.

Testing won't be necessary

The pink has appeared on the toilet paper, as I knew it would. Sometimes I guess a woman just knows.

50/50

I've reached the point in the 2ww where I feel like it could truly go either way, which I guess is an improvement from the other night when I was feeling only doom and gloom. Why the change of heart? My boobs ache super bad and look/feel fuller. I had pretty frequent heart palpitations last night, which I normally have around ovulation time when my hormones spike but not normally around when my period is due. And lastly, I was burning up last night, radiating heat like I was those few days before we found out we were expecting last September. It's definitely encouraging, but the flip side to the optimism is that I still have some dull cramps and generally just feel like my period is on it's way: leg aches, back aches, bloating, dull cramping in my ovaries and lower abdomen. I also feel "drippy", like I need to keep checking to make sure I haven't started. So, today and tomorrow should be interesting days...

Please keeping thinking positive thoughts and pray that Sunday brings us joyous news. We so appreciate the support!!!

Struggling

I'm not doing well tonight. I broke down in a fit of tears and hid in the closet until Jason discovered me.  My emotions may have erupted tonight, but the truth is, I've been fighting them for days. The trigger? I felt something tonight that usually means my period is on it's way. I hope I'm wrong, but I've had my period for 15 years now and I've gotten quite used to it's hints and clues...even more so over the last few years in my obsessive TTC state. I stopped dead in my tracks when I felt it, and knew. I honestly think this cycle is a bust.

I just want to be normal and get pregnant in the traditional fashion. No pills, no doctors, no procedures. Just me and Jason. Just love. Is that too much to ask?? We've now been actively trying for a baby for over 3 years now, that's 36 long, painful months, and been dreaming about it for over 4. I can't begin to tell you how hopeless and jaded I've become. With each successive failure, the ability to envision our baby has diminished to almost non-existent. I can't envision having a baby anymore. I can't fathom it. I can't imagine what giving birth will be like, what having a big, beautiful, bulging belly will be like. I can't see our baby, and I've come to believe that it's because we're never going to have one of our own. I realize there's no way that I can possibly know the true outcome of our journey, but I'm quite intuitive and I fear I know the truth. All the so-called symptoms I feel can be explained away by other things. In short, my mind is creating a path to the outcome I crave. The only problem is that it's not real.

I can't imagine what it must be like to just decide to have a baby, and to have it happen. There's a woman at work who started working out prior to getting pregnant to get her body in the best shape possible because "they knew they were going to do this." She's due in 2 weeks. She and her husband decided it was time, they got ready, and they're going to be parents in 2 weeks. I've had to stare at her ever-growing belly for the last 3 months, and will sit through her office baby shower on Friday, to which I donated money for an office gift. I will smile through my pain, as I've become all too accustomed to doing.

I don't think I'm pregnant this time. I just don't. Last time, I felt different. I felt like there was something happening inside of me. I felt pregnant. Going in to testing, I was cautious but excited and actually felt a rare confidence. This time, I don't feel anything. Please pray that I'm wrong. I need to be wrong.

One more week

We're just 7 days shy of finding out if this IUI cycle was a success or not. I'm nervous. Very nervous. Nothing I feel is pointing us solidly in either direction at this juncture, which is 9DPO (days past ovulation). I keep trying to remember what the days felt like leading up to our positive pregnancy test last September but I can't remember and I didn't keep track because I didn't want to torture myself with details. I'm so afraid it's going to be negative, but I'm also afraid it's going to be positive and that it won't last. But I'm more afraid that it will be negative.

For those of you who have had more than one pregnancy, did you feel the same or different leading up to finding out you were pregnant each time? I'm wondering if the next time I'm pregnant if the symptoms will reflect our last experience or if I should not expect to feel the same way... ie if I felt hot in the days leading up to my BFP in September, should I expect to feel hot again the next time? And if I don't, should I take that to mean I'm not pregnant?? Or is each pregnancy unique unto itself? I also had implantation bleeding super late last time (like 4 days before I tested)...should I be on the look out for that again?? I've asked a few women in my family but they can't remember their early symptoms, so if you do remember, can you please share? I'd really appreciate your input. I'm a nervous wreck. 

This is going to be the loooongest week. 

Our hope is alive and well

I did it. I found my hope and it grew in me just like I pray our next miracle does. Today was IUI day. It's an absolutely beautiful, perfect day out: blue cloudless sky, unseasonably warm, and just the slightest hint of a breeze. While Jason was at the clinic donating his, er, sample, I ate my breakfast out on the patio, dog at my feet, Mumford & Sons blasting in my ears: The Cave, Little Lion Man, and After the Storm. Jason came home, and we went for a bit of stroll to take in the beautiful morning. Before we left for the clinic, I danced around our apartment like an idiot to release some pre-procedure jitters. It worked. I felt calm and ready.

The IUI itself went very smoothly. Jason's sample was great again (less sperm this time than last time by almost half but still well above average post-wash) and the sperm were once again activated at time of "retrieval". I asked what that meant and he said it's what he prefers to see in a sperm sample - that he classifies activated sperm as "higher quality". Good to hear. When I asked about Jason's dropped numbers from last time, the doctor said it's common for numbers to fluctuate, and he assured us that although we've gotten used to seeing super high numbers, the number we saw for today's procedure was still great and well above average. My cervical mucus was also good, so all in all, it was a good effort. We gave it our best shot, and now we'll wait and see what the next 16 days brings.

Jason and I really prefer this doctor to our first. Not only is he more personable, but he said, "So sperm and egg met up last time, which is a huge accomplishment, but we'd like this pregnancy to cooperate with us a bit more." He's already referring to this cycle as '"this pregnancy" - the positive attitude is so encouraging and refreshing, and even though nothing is guaranteed, we were certainly thankful for his optimism.

I asked for the day off, so I've spent the morning on the couch watching Cold Case Files and I Love Lucy re-runs. I plan to loaf around and lie low, being sure to send my uterus, egg, and the little sperm swimming frantically in search of their target, lots of loving vibes.

These next 16 days will be some of the longest days. They always are. But our hope is renewed. With each other, all of you, and hope alive and well in our souls and hearts, we can get through anything. Please, please let this be the month we conceive our baby. Please please please. We've been waiting such a long time to meet our miracle.

Another lone egg

I had my ultrasound today and I have one egg on the right ovary that will reach maturity (it is 15mm as of this morning and will reach the target 18-22mm by Friday). Quite a few smaller ones on my left ovary, but they won't get big enough in time. I am frustrated. I am disappointed and disheartened. Yes, I know we got pregnant last time with just one egg but I think know we were lucky. The odds aren't so great with just one. And look how great that one turned out. It's upsetting that I am taking 5mg of Femara, which I believe is the highest dose I can take, and I'm only getting one egg. ONE. I don't ovulate on my own, nor do I produce eggs of mature quality on my own so I am dependent on medication that only ends up giving me one lousy egg.

Anyway. I trigger tomorrow night at 8pm (which I'm worrying about because what if my egg releases mid-day on Thursday and it's no good by the time I get my IUI Friday morning??) and then the IUI is Friday morning around 9am. I am taking the day off so I will be free to lounge about and keep my tootsies elevated.

I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like this cycle is doomed before we even try and that's not a healthy outlook. I went from looking at our Golden Egg last August with rose colored glasses on to looking at this lone egg today and not being satisfied. The experiences were much the same: one egg. I got pregnant on the one egg. I should be happy we have an egg at all. But I'm not because I know that eggs produced by women with PCOS aren't always good eggs. They're oftentimes bad. And if we had more than one egg to release for our IUI, I'd feel like our odds were better. I feel defeated and crushed and I don't like that because it's not even giving this little eggie a chance to prove me wrong. And it's not fair to my hubs to go in to this procedure all doom and gloom.

How do I change this outlook? I think our miscarriage has further jaded me - I don't see how it could not be a factor in my negative thinking right now. I need help getting into a positive mindset before Friday....

Miscarriage testing results - 4 months later

I finally decided to call the ER regarding the results of the testing done on my tissue/products of conception that I submitted the night of my miscarriage. I don't know why I did it today. Tomorrow is my birthday so maybe I was just feeling...I don't know. I really don't.

According to the nurse I spoke to, the testing is designed to check for abnormalities present. There were none. My tissue was labeled "normal products of conception." The egg sac was present, but no embryo had yet formed. I kind of already knew that much. She also said my negative blood type (B-) is an issue that will need to be watched with any subsequent pregnancies, which I also knew. The thing she said that makes me regret calling at all was this: "There was an egg sac, but an embryo had not yet formed, so basically the cells were still trying to multiply and it wasn't happening correctly. So really, you didn't have a baby yet."

I didn't have a baby yet. I didn't have a baby yet. 

Her words made me feel foolish. Like I've spent the last 4 months mourning something that never was. Like I've been overly dramatic, that the anguish I felt and still feel wasn't real, wasn't warranted. Like the necklace I wear around my neck in remembrance of a life lost is really in remembrance of an almost baby. But the thing is, it was a baby to us. It was real to us. It mattered to us. It still does, and always will. What was also real was the dream that had finally been realized. An egg implanted into the lining of my uterus after combining with sperm. I had a very high HCG level. Cells were beginning to multiply. It was going to be somebody. Our somebody. It just didn't quite make it. 

I'm upset. I shouldn't have called. I feel like I've been socked in the stomach, like I've been told I've been ridiculous for grieving for something that wasn't even there to begin with. But I don't believe that. I believe life starts at conception, and we had "normal products of conception" therefore, we conceived.  It was real. It may not have been an actual baby yet, but it was ours, and it had a soul. The good news is that our results were normal, nothing abnormal was found. I have to focus on that part. We will get our baby, and I still believe our baby in heaven is there watching over us, regardless of what that ER nurse had to say about it.

Fear, and the fervent hope of joy

In my last post, I mentioned my many emotions surrounding beginning again. I guess I feel the need to write this post as a kind of cleanse; a way to get the negative emotions out so that I can better focus on the positive, because I cannot go into this next IUI already feeling defeated. I cannot, and I will not. It's not fair to me, nor is it fair to Jason. The fear needs to be pushed aside to let hope take over and do what she does best: inspire. Besides, I like hope better, she keeps much better company.

First, the ugly, cankerous fear. I'm terrified we'll conceive again, only to have it end in heartbreak, as it did in October. I'm so afraid that I'll never see our biological children, that each time we're blessed with a pregnancy, I'll miscarry. I'm afraid to endure another miscarriage, both emotionally and physically. I'm afraid that I'll get further along in a pregnancy the next time and then suffer another loss. I'm so afraid to allow myself to hope, to let myself be vulnerable to the possibility of our dream coming true. After so much pain and disappointment, you begin to build a shield of sorts around yourself to serve as protection from anything negative that may come your way. If you expect the worst, you'll be ready when it comes. If you expect bad things to happen, if they do, you won't be taken off guard, and if they don't, you'll be pleasantly surprised. And yes, I am aware of how awful that sounds. My glass at times has seemed overwhelmingly half empty. But the thing about experiencing what we have is that after a time, the bad somehow eclipses the good and it becomes difficult to find the silver lining. And I'm not just referencing my infertility. My heart health has played a huge role in the latter half of this journey, and it is tough, and it will make whatever pregnancy I am blessed to experience more challenging, because not only will I have the fear of miscarriage looming over my head but I will have the "I sure hope my heart can handle this" fear as well. My cardiologists believe all will be well, but I will be closely monitored. Because of my heart/pacemaker, I am labeled a moderately high risk pregnancy and will need to schedule high risk appointments with my cardiologists at UCLA when the time comes...which actually is more reassuring than scary when I think about it. More opportunities to ensure that all is well, right? Right.

More fear. September 19th, 2011 was one of the happiest days of my life. When we found out I was pregnant, I was elated. Truly, it was a level of joy that I hadn't felt in a very long time. But right away, I was afraid. Right away, it didn't seem real. At all. And I'm not sure if it was because it had taken so long for our dream to become a reality, that when it did happen, it was so surreal that it had to sink in with time, or if maybe somehow I knew. Knew that it wasn't going to last. Knew that it wasn't meant to be in the end and I had to prepare myself for the worst. Mother's intuition? Maybe. Fear taking over my brain and refusing to let anything good in as a way to protect myself from sadness and disappointment? Perhaps. I'll never really know which one it was, and I suppose it doesn't really matter. Wondering which it was won't change what is. I'm afraid I'll feel that way again should we be blessed with another pregnancy. And yet, I can't allow myself to feel that way next time. I just can't. It was a horrible way to spend what I now reflect upon as a very blissful period in my life and I wasted it by being fearful. Yes, as it turned out I had cause to be fearful, but I can try my damnedest to not let it chew me up and swallow me whole.

The flip side to all of this angst? Hope. Beautiful, sparkly, enduring hope.

Hope. The thing with glorious white feathers that alights in my soul and simply refuses to completely abandon me. The thing that lights the way on my darkest of hours, that encourages me to get up, wipe away my tears, and try again, that next time, it will be different. The thing that shines with golden, glittery strength and urges me to do that which I fear I cannot, once more, twice more, until it works. Joy, unbridled and pure. I felt it once, I will feel it again. I must believe I will feel it again. The dream of holding our child in my arms, of taking in it's beautiful face and knowing that it is ours, the true embodiment of our love for one another, that dream sometimes feels close enough that if I were to reach out and really stretch, I could touch it, make it real. I crave the knowledge that it was all worth the wait, worth the pain, worth the long, unforgiving journey. I yearn to know that this path we're on, this road with it's many dips and turns, is where we're meant to be, that it will eventually lead us to the baby we're meant to have. The hope. It's there. I can feel it. It does wan, but it also glimmers and shines. The thought that 9 months from now, we could be welcoming our baby into the world, that is what keeps me going. I have to believe it. I have to envision it. If I don't, if we lose all hope, what else do we have? I am meant to be a mother, and Jason, a father. That I know without question. We have too much love to give. So we will hold on to hope, even if all I have is the tiniest of frayed threads.

Yes, my emotions about being back here again are many. But, we have to consciously choose to hope for the best, and leave the rest up to what is meant to be. Like it or not, that is all we can do.

It came!! Yippee!

Yes, it came. Finally. Today is CD 1 and I begin my Femara (5mg) on Sunday. Yip to the eeeee :)

Here's the breakdown of what's to come:

1) 5mg of Femara CD 3 - 7.
2) Ultrasound on Tuesday, February 21st @ 8am with Dr. Awesome {yep, I asked to see the Dr. who did our successful IUI last year and ditched Dr. Sunshine - thanks be to GOD}. This will be CD 12, so we'll be checking on egg growth/progress.
3) If the egg/s are mature enough, I'll get my HCG shot in the behind on the 21st, and have my IUI on CD 13, February 22nd. If not, I'll do my HCG shot at home (go Jason!) either Wednesday or Thursday, which would mean our IUI will end up being either Thursday, Feb. 23rd or Friday, Feb. 24th.

So. I am both excited and nervous. Actually, I have many more emotions than just those two, but I'll save those for another post. Honestly, it's overwhelming to be back on this journey again, but we're ready. We have each other, and we have all of you. I'll keep everyone posted. We so appreciate all of your love and support!

I feel like I'm going to pop

First of all, the faintest of faint tinges appeared on my toilet paper tonight. You never think you'll be happy to get your period until you've skipped a month (or 2, or 3) and you're not pregnant, but just waiting waiting waiting for your body it get it's freaking act together. Hopefully, in a few days, it'll actually commit and start so we can get this show on the road already.

Guys, I am so overwhelmed. I hate my current temp job. My boss makes me feel this small on a daily basis. Jason is waiting to hear from the schools he applied to for his doctorate and it's slow going, which is driving us both bonkers. Waiting is so hard! Not knowing where we'll be in 5 months, (you know, where we'll be living, working, a whole new state/city) or if we'll be moving, is making me crazy. I like to plan and this whole situation is not my cup of tea.  It's the anti-plan plan. UGH. This whole period thing (or absence of my period) is making me an emotional wreck and has also bloated me up beyond recognition, to the point where my belly doesn't feel like it's mine anymore, and my clothes don't fit. Money is tight. My health insurance goes up 10% in April and I need to switch to CalCobra because I've exhausted Cobra benefits. {Because of my heart surgeries and pacemaker, I don't qualify for individual insurance, and since I'm not working and Jason is a student at a school that doesn't offer health care benefits for spouses of students, I have to pay up the WAZOO for HMO health insurance, to the tune of $1100 a month}. Did I mention I'm the only one working because he's a full time student and his schedule doesn't allow for him to hold a job?? Lastly, which really is the straw currently breaking this poor camel's back, I am a mentor to my sorority from college and there is major drama there that is leaking in to my life and taking over. So. I can't breathe and it sucks.

One day at a time....

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Today is CD 53. I am on day 8 of my provera and, as you may have already guessed, my period has yet to arrive.

{insert scream here}

I've taken provera two times in the past and each time, it kicked in by or before day 5. So, I called my clinic today and spoke to a nurse, who said that it may take up to 2 weeks (!!) from the day of my last provera pill for my period to arrive. If it doesn't arrive after 2 weeks, then I'm to call them and schedule an appointment, at which time they will most likely try a different medication or increase the provera dosage...and I'll have to take it again.

{insert 2nd, more agonizing scream here}

Guys, I am soooooo over this. I can't even begin to tell you how ironic it is that the 2 cycles prior to this one were textbook perfect when it didn't matter, and now that this cycle should be our IUI cycle, it's simply nowhere to be found.

Please keep us in your thoughts. This is just so frustrating. I know it's only February 1st but due to this less than impressive start, the small bit of hope I've mustered together since our loss is beginning to dribble away.  :(

Maybe because my birthday is next month...

I've been thinking quite a lot about my goals. Life goals. Not a bucket list really, but things I really do want to do before I kick it. The bucket, I mean. I know I'm still young, I'll be 28 next month, but time marches on so rapidly, more so each and every year it seems, and before I know it, I'll be turning 38, then 48, and I have things I want to do. Things I really, really aspire to do and have wanted to do for as long as I can remember.

I have an amazing husband, wonderful family and friends, and I am blessed. I am. But... I'm not where I thought I would be at 28. I thought we'd have a child, maybe even be working on our second. I don't have a real job. I'm temping while Jason is in grad school, and we'll probably be moving out of state this summer. We got married young, and nearly 6 years later, I'm still relatively where I started on my college graduation day: jobless, childless, houseless, with the addition of an 8-inch scar down the center of my chest, a pacemaker, infertility, and a dog to go with our cat. It gets me down sometimes.

I'm watching You've Got Mail as I type this post. It's one of my very favorite movies. I adore The Shop Around the Corner. It's what got me motivated to write about this topic because I've learned that if you write it down, it's a commitment of sorts, something you're held to because it's there, in black and white, staring at you as a reminder of what you said you'd do. Or be. And I like that. I want to be held accountable for my dreams...because I fervently hope they'll one day become reality. So here's the short list. These are the big 3.

1) Become a mother. Obviously. This one has been at the tippy top of my prayer list for going on 4 years now. Every single moment of every single day, my heart, my soul, longs to be someone's mommy. I know, deep down, that one day that dream will come true. I don't know when or how. This year? Next? Three years from now? {Oh please, don't let it be that long...} Will we have a biological child? Will I get to carry our baby inside of me, feel it kick and roll, and give birth to our little miracle? Or will we adopt? Foster, then adopt? Use a surrogate? I don't know. I wish so badly that I knew, but as my cousin reminded me the other night, "God has a plan for you." Indeed. I just wish I could be in on some of the details.

2) Own a children's book store. It's been a dream of mine since high school. Maybe before, I don't remember. But there is something so alluring about it, something that draws me in and holds me close. I am so deliriously happy in bookstores in general, but the magic of a children's book store is unique. It is something that cannot be described. You have to experience it, feel it. The children's book store in You've Got Mail is perfect. Each time I watch the movie, I just want to step inside my tv screen, grab a book from the well-stocked shelves, and settle in for a good read. The way books smell, the way they feel in your hands, the sound of the pages turning, the worlds you become a part of... that's real magic. If only I had the funds...and if only the economy were better. But one day, one day it will happen. It must. I have to find a way to make it happen.

3) Write children's books and be a published author. I have a creative writing degree. I LOVE to write (or used to, I'm not very diligent about it anymore. I need to be better). I love words. I love stories. I prefer to write with a pencil. I love reading children's books (which is great because it goes well with #2 on this list). I love the children's book section at the library. I love reading storybooks to children, and watching their faces light up as mine once did. There is nothing like a good story. When I was recovering from open heart surgery, I was laid up in bed for weeks and I had a children's book marathon. I was able to forget the pain for a little while, forget my fear, and escape to far away imaginary places, and it was wonderful. I want to write stories for children. I want to see my stories on book shelves (maybe in my own store??) and see my name in print.

So there you have it, my short list. I know they're lofty. But they're mine. And if I am fortunate enough to accomplish all three of the above, it will feel like I've won the lottery. But the one that matters most is of course sitting right on top at #1, where it will always be. And once I am a mother, it will remain the #1 thing I will ever do. There is nothing more important than raising a child. It is a supreme gift, one I intend to cherish my whole life through.

CD 44 & meds

Tomorrow, I will start my progesterone to get things moving. Typically, it takes a few days (up to 10 bleh) to work but I'm hoping it won't keep me waiting that long. It would be super to get going on this cycle. I was supposed to pick up my prescription today but according to the nice nurse I talked to, Dr. Sunshine (aka the doctor that I hate at my current clinic, thusly named due to his lack of enthusiasm and empathy) didn't take a look at his inbox today so my request wasn't put through. GRRRR

Things otherwise aren't so hot. Too much stress and anxiety. My new year's resolution to roll with whatever life throws our way is really being tested right now (and may have been too lofty a goal), and I'm not sure how I'm faring. So far, this week hasn't gone very well, something disheartening each day to contend with. One of today's highlights: taking another pregnancy test (because the clinic asked me to before I start my meds even though I took one last week...) and not seeing even the faintest of faint lines. Good times. Loved it. As if my period not coming on time so we could actually do an IUI this month because I'm freaking infertile wasn't bad enough, I had to take a pregnancy test just to make sure I wasn't pregnant. Come on, folks. We've been trying really hard to get pregnant for almost 3.5 yrs now and if it hasn't happened at home on meds with much concerted effort, and it's only happened once with an IUI, it's certainly not going to happen while being careful (read: using other forms of contraception) medication-less. And I've been pregnant now, so I know how my body feels when pregnant and this ain't it. But yes, let's have the woman who just suffered a miscarriage 3 months ago take yet another test. Rub it in, much? And yes, I know they have to cover their behinds, but taking that test (well actually, both of the tests I took in a week's time) felt like a slap in the face.

Oh how I hope next week is better....

CD41 ....

In case anyone was wondering, no period yet. And today is CD 41. I also haven't spotted since Tuesday. I'm nauseous at different intervals during the day (like super nauseous, usually around lunchtime), and often in the middle of the night. I cannot tell you how frustrating this is. Two months prior to this, textbook perfect cycles. Now, nothing. Nada. Zilch.

I am trying, with everything in me, to stay true to my "I can't control any of this and I need to just let it go" attitude, but let me tell you, it is HARD. Because I care. A lot. And because we've officially lost January for an IUI attempt. And we may lose February if Jason is out of state for an audition during when I need him to be here. But again, we have no control over any of that...and it makes me want to pound something.

In case you're thinking, "Maybe you're pregnant," I took a test on Monday (CD 36) and it was negative. We were careful during our doctor mandated 3 month TTC hiatus, but I wanted to be sure, so I tested. I will take another prior to taking any medication but honestly, it's the damn PCOS that is screwing me up, as it tends to do. I eat well, I'm taking my metformin again (which may be the culprit for messing up this cycle since it's the only thing different in the equation this time), and my weight has held steady for years. In fact, the doctor says I could stand to gain a few pounds (I know, saddest song on the world's tiniest violin) but I can't seem to do it. I exercise as I've been told to. I take my prenatals every day. People who don't give a shit get pregnant every day at the freaking drop of a hat and yet, I can't. And when I finally did, I lost it. I just don't get it. Probably never, ever will. And again, I know I need to let it go because I can't control it, but it is HARD because reminders of my infertility are everywhere I look. But I am trying. Seriously trying. For instance, I could have cried about this but I haven't. That level of frustration won't get me anywhere or change anything. Sadly, it is what it is.

I am going to get my progesterone on Monday, but I can't take it until after January 25th because of timing for next month. There is a potential audition on February 4 so I need to time our February IUI between that weekend and the last weekend of the month due to another potential audition. It's all I can do. The rest is out of my hands.

More of the same + a lunchtime epiphany

No period yet. Today is CD36. If you're wondering how upset I am about it, the answer is very. I even took a pg test, just in case, and of course, it was negative. I am so over this crap. I slept very poorly last night: woke up sweating, weird dreams, and was hot all night, so I'm guessing it's close to arriving, but it's definitely taking it's sweet time. I've been spotting off and on since Friday but it has yet to "commit" to even a trickle. I'm giving it until Wednesday, and then I'm calling the doctor to get a progesterone prescription.

Oh, and Jason will be auditioning (hopefully) for schools for his doctoral program throughout February, March and April and no, we don't know when yet, so that's another fun hurdle. If this show doesn't get on the road soon, we may not be doing our IUI this month, and if he's gone when I need him to be here next month, we've lost February, too. Not a happy camper, not by a long shot.

**Update**
Called the doctor this morning during my break and was told they would like me to wait it out until Friday (CD40) and then if my period is still MIA, they'll write me a prescription for progesterone to get things moving along. So basically, this is the breakdown: if it comes any time between Jan. 20 & Jan. 25, and if Jason is away the weekend of Feb. 4 for an audition, we won't be able to do an IUI. It's that simple.

I had a mini break down in the car today during lunch and came to this conclusion: I simply cannot control this process. Not one thing about it is in my control. That being said, I need to let some of it (the anxiety, the anger, the sadness) go. I need to, or I will go crazy. I need to remember that I am doing all that I can, and all that I can is the very best I can do, no more, no less. I need to cut myself some slack and not beat myself up over something I have zero control over. If my period is still MIA by Friday, I will get my prescription but not take it until after Jan. 25. If it comes on it's own before then, so be it. If that's the case, this month wasn't meant to be. I have to let it go.

Dear period

Dear Period,

Although I hate when you're here and I have come to really abhor the sight/feel of you, your arrival is crucial to our continuing on with our fertility treatments. It would be grand if you could get it together and be on time, like you were the last two months. I feel you gearing up, but you just haven't committed yet and it's time, it's time to commit, because I'm super ready to get this show on the road. You know I don't ovulate without meds and I can't take my meds until you show your awful red face, so let's get on with it.

To be fair, I realize I haven't welcomed your appearance in the past, but this month is different. I'm sorry if it's confusing to hear me actually asking you to show up, as opposed to wishing on everything holy that you'd decide to skip your monthly visit, but listen to me very closely: please show up, and soon. Today is CD30, and if you don't arrive soon, I'm going to have to call the doctor and start progesterone and I'd rather not do that. I'd rather not force it. So let's work together. Let's be sensible.

I'll expect to see you tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then the day after. Don't disappoint me, not this time, especially since we've just begun to get along so well.

With hope,
Melissa

I can do it

So, this is new: I'm actually trying to will my period into arriving. I'm so used to praying, begging, willing it NOT to come (you know, in hopes of being pregnant) that this hopeful feeling of "maybe today is the day that it will appear" is really quite odd.

Today is CD28. It arrived on CD28 last month, and CD29 the month before, so I'm just hoping that it comes today or tomorrow, as I had really started to believe that my periods had somehow regulated. I've heard of it happening post miscarriage: super wonky cycles prior to pregnancy, and then after pregnancy or post-miscarriage, they're not wonky anymore. Fingers crossed that my period will arrive no later than Tuesday, CD30 because...

...this is the month we can try again!!

I'm ready. We're ready. We went to a wedding yesterday and on the 2-hour drive home, we talked baby names. For 2 hours. Our hearts are full of hope. We're cautiously optimistic and scared and anxious and trying to find some semblance of excitement to push us into this next part of our journey/battle and I think, bit by bit, we're finding it.

Have we found/made peace with our loss? I don't think we're there quite yet, but I think we will, in time. We are still sad. I think we always will be, as it would have been a child, our child, and that baby is not here with us. But we have each other, and we've been through an awful lot in our short 5 year marriage, so I know we'll be alright.

I'm still having trouble with all of the FB baby announcements. I'm still envious of my family and friends who are pregnant or have children. I'm not proud of that envy, but I'm pretty sure it's a feeling every woman battling infertility struggles with, and the longer you walk this path, the stronger the feeling. Next month will mark 4 years for us. We started trying in February of 2008. Yes, we had to stop trying for a year (2010) following my open heart surgery, but we never stopped wanting a baby, and the sadness we felt during that year as we watched the months tick by, feeling like we were losing time, is hard to delete and discount from the memory bank. It's a lost year. Had my health allowed, we would have kept trying. So with that in mind, I suppose I'd say next month will mark 3 years of active trying + one year of active yearning.

2012 will be our year. It will be. It must be. Sometimes, it feels impossible, but you know, I'm good with that, because when it happens, it'll be a miracle and aren't miracles at one time deemed impossible things? "It wasn't supposed to happen, but it did! It's a miracle!"

Plus, when I was 2, my favorite phrase was, "I can do it!" Everything was something I could do, even if it wasn't, but I was convinced it was. My 2 year old self knew I could do it, so maybe I can. Wouldn't it be lovely if life were really that easy?? But hey, why not? Why can't it be? Maybe my toddler self was on to something...

Hi, my name is Melissa and I can do it. Yep, feels pretty good.

Double-edged New Year

It's officially 2012, a brand spanking new year is upon us. It should be a time of rejoicing, of looking towards the future with rose colored glasses, because, after all, we have 12 whole months to "get it right".

Instead, I had a mini breakdown this morning. I am terrified of the new year. Why? Because the last 4 years have been supremely challenging, and I'm afraid that this year will be the same, or worse. 2008 was my infertility diagnosis. 2009 I had a chemical pregnancy and underwent open heart surgery....I thought I was going to die, survived, persevered, but it was an awful year. 2010 was neutral: continued recovering from surgery, had my pacemaker implant in June, and we moved in August so Jason could pursue his Master's. But, we ushered in 2011 with a fresh perspective, renewed hope, and even donned a pair of rose colored glasses for the hell of it. We did feel hopeful. We were given the green light by my cardiology team to start trying for a baby again, had a new fertility doctor, and we really felt like 2011 was going to be OUR year. Everyone agreed with us, because it had been a long time coming, hadn't it? We had been through so much, surely it was our turn for something good. And what did we get? Unemployment and financial strain, my grandfather died unexpectedly and tragically in April, a miscarriage in October, our family dog died in August, my mom's boyfriend was diagnosed with cancer in July, and my grandmother is battling dementia and depression, which has meant that my mom's life has gotten exponentially more difficult and emotionally challenging. I am WORN OUT from this year, and am not sad in the least to see it go. 

So as I said, I am terrified of this coming year just as much (if not more so) as I am hopeful that it will be the great year that we so need it to be. I sat on the edge of the bed this morning, paralyzed by the realization that today is January 1st. Could it be an awesome year? Absolutely! It could be the best one yet, one for the record books. We could get pregnant again, and our family of two could finally become  (or be on it's way to becoming) a family of three. Jason could get accepted into the doctoral program of his choice and we could move somewhere really amazing. I could get a real job, and we could feel like we're genuinely back on track again. Or...it could be another scary, gut wrenchingly emotional year. 

I'm jaded. I get that. I'm not totally blind to that reality. I write/blog because it's therapeutic. I don't do it for sympathy - I do it because if I didn't write, if I didn't get all of my fear, frustration, anger, etc out of my head and onto paper or in this case, the cyber screen, I'd go crazy. Writing is who I am. And I wish I had more uplifting words to share, I do. Trust me when I say I'm so over being pessimistic and down, but honestly you guys, 2008 through 2011 have not been filled with good things. Instead, we have bobbed and weaved through 4 years of up's and down's and the bad has eclipsed the good. It is exhausting to keep getting up and brushing myself off after each blow. I am tired. Yes, there are blessings in my life. Yes, I have an amazing husband and I am beyond lucky to be married to my best friend. Yes, my heart is healthy and overall, I am doing well with my health. Yes, I am blessed to have wonderful family and friends who love me and are so supportive in all aspects of our lives ----> if you're reading this, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for staying on this journey with us. We couldn't do it without you!! But I need a good year. I need something good to happen, to me, to us, to my family. I need to feel like I'm not invisible, like I'm not being punished for something in a past life. I need to feel peace. I need to know that it will be alright. I need to trust that I won't always feel this blue, that this too shall pass. 

What I need, what I really need, is to believe again.