I have a great job. I work with great people. The pay is good, and you can't beat the commute. I live right across the street! I can walk across the street during my lunch break and walk my dog and make a sandwich. If I had a baby ( if only if only...) I could be home faster than it takes some people to reach their corporate daycare in their big office buildings. There is only one catch, and that is the fact that the job is seasonal. I was so happy to just get a paid job in my field in this economy three years ago that working only 6 months out of the year didn't bother me. But now, I'm not so sure.
It isn't just the fact that I work only half the year that bothers me, it is everything around the title of 'seasonal' that is starting to affect me. One day I am responsible for everything, the next day I'm back to being just seasonal staff. I am too old to be starting all over again at the bottom of the heap. But years of infertility and taking care of my kids has put me there. Not that I would trade those years to be on top of the professional ladder, mind you, but I wish there was some middle ground. I keep telling myself "Next year I will apply for a full time job someplace else if I'm not full time here." But.....aren't six months at a great job better than a full year someplace else? Maybe. But last year when November came and I was home alone for the first time in 8 years, I just sat down on the stairs and cried. I'm dreading the end of the Summer. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Two
Yesterday or thereabouts the bean would have turned two. There would be toilet training and tantrums. Instead there just isn't. On days like today the giant pile of what isn't weighs me down. I have hit a wall. I live my life normally most of the time, but every once in a while, like now, I am laid low by grief and it is so hard to get up. And it doesn't seem to get better. I am still vulnerable. Like a tiny car broken down in the middle of the intersection, I'm still easily broadsided by the pregnant woman in the library or the newborn baby sleeping in it's car seat in front of me in the check out line. Isn't time supposed to make this all go away? It isn't ever going to go away, is it.
Oh crap.
Oh crap.
Friday, April 26, 2013
What a pissah!*
*pisser. As in doozie...whopper....one helluva week*
Last week sucked. It seemed like the bombing in Boston and the explosion in West Texas were just the culmination of a lot of sucketage. And not just for the victims and survivors, but so many of the people I know in both the blogoshpere and the real world. It was just a hard, nasty black hole of suck.
My kids all had the week off from school. Which normally would make for a happy time, but this week was just not good timing. My husband had surgery on Wednesday, which was the cause of most of the internal and personal sucketage. (not to be compared to the greater suck which was external and shared with the world). His surgery was a minor hernia repair, but it wasn't so minor that he didn't need watchful care and nurturing pretty much around the clock for several days. I felt like I wasn't doing enough for either my kids, the dog, or my husband. He is a very good patient, but it was stressful trying to keep the house quiet so he could get needed rest, or to keep the dog out of the bedroom so as not to jump on the bed - or him! When I was outside with the dog I was afraid he would need to get out of bed. And the kids were stressed because they knew their Dad was hurt and they couldn't help. This was all an aside to the horrible bombing and the aftermath. My husband's extended family, his aunt, uncle, 4 cousins and all of their children, live in the greater Boston area, as well as friends of ours who live in Watertown. Upstairs in our bedroom, the TV was on grinding the same bits of news over and over. Downstairs on my laptop my friend was running commentary on the state of fear that had overtaken their town. It was hard to try and keep our kids happy in their little bubbles of playdough molding Wii playing ceiling fan drawing innocence. I wanted to take them and the dog and just fly kites and blow bubbles, but even that wasn't enjoyable because even the weather was raw, rainy, and full of suck.
So far, this week has been an improvement. They caught the bomber, the sun is shining, my kids are back to school and my husband is back at work. Lets hope that we don't see a week like this ever again.
Last week sucked. It seemed like the bombing in Boston and the explosion in West Texas were just the culmination of a lot of sucketage. And not just for the victims and survivors, but so many of the people I know in both the blogoshpere and the real world. It was just a hard, nasty black hole of suck.
My kids all had the week off from school. Which normally would make for a happy time, but this week was just not good timing. My husband had surgery on Wednesday, which was the cause of most of the internal and personal sucketage. (not to be compared to the greater suck which was external and shared with the world). His surgery was a minor hernia repair, but it wasn't so minor that he didn't need watchful care and nurturing pretty much around the clock for several days. I felt like I wasn't doing enough for either my kids, the dog, or my husband. He is a very good patient, but it was stressful trying to keep the house quiet so he could get needed rest, or to keep the dog out of the bedroom so as not to jump on the bed - or him! When I was outside with the dog I was afraid he would need to get out of bed. And the kids were stressed because they knew their Dad was hurt and they couldn't help. This was all an aside to the horrible bombing and the aftermath. My husband's extended family, his aunt, uncle, 4 cousins and all of their children, live in the greater Boston area, as well as friends of ours who live in Watertown. Upstairs in our bedroom, the TV was on grinding the same bits of news over and over. Downstairs on my laptop my friend was running commentary on the state of fear that had overtaken their town. It was hard to try and keep our kids happy in their little bubbles of playdough molding Wii playing ceiling fan drawing innocence. I wanted to take them and the dog and just fly kites and blow bubbles, but even that wasn't enjoyable because even the weather was raw, rainy, and full of suck.
So far, this week has been an improvement. They caught the bomber, the sun is shining, my kids are back to school and my husband is back at work. Lets hope that we don't see a week like this ever again.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Obtainable joy
I miss my dogs. When I'm at my loneliest and feeling blue, I miss them putting their muzzles in my lap. When I am running around outside with the kids, I miss them chasing each other, and always circling. They would constantly be keeping an eye on all of us like the good herding dogs they were.
I am sad that I don't have many pictures of them on my computer to share with you. One was fairly large and wooly, the other was medium sized with smoother fur. They were both black and white border collie mixes.
Today, on a whim, I went to Pet.finder and looked at collie cross dogs. There were so many it was almost overwhelming, even with the search narrowed down to young collie dogs in the North East. Thousands of dogs that need homes.
Could it really be this easy? Is it obtainable joy, or just a band aid for a broken heart? We had always intended to adopt another dog when the boys were somewhere around 7 or 8, when they were old enough to lend a hand in a dog's care. A young dog adopted now would be able to see them through until they went to college. Maybe...maybe. Right now I am looking at the adorable faces of just a couple and wishing I had one here to pat, and hug, and lick my tears.
I am sad that I don't have many pictures of them on my computer to share with you. One was fairly large and wooly, the other was medium sized with smoother fur. They were both black and white border collie mixes.
Today, on a whim, I went to Pet.finder and looked at collie cross dogs. There were so many it was almost overwhelming, even with the search narrowed down to young collie dogs in the North East. Thousands of dogs that need homes.
Could it really be this easy? Is it obtainable joy, or just a band aid for a broken heart? We had always intended to adopt another dog when the boys were somewhere around 7 or 8, when they were old enough to lend a hand in a dog's care. A young dog adopted now would be able to see them through until they went to college. Maybe...maybe. Right now I am looking at the adorable faces of just a couple and wishing I had one here to pat, and hug, and lick my tears.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Hoping for Hope
I would give my left ovary right now to just be able to HOPE for a chance at a FET. Not the hope that my lining would be good, that the embryos would thaw, that I would have at least one to transfer, that one would stick...but just the hope that I may actually do it.
I am tired of having the same conversations with my husband over and over. The last time I only mentioned that we HAD to go to counseling, that he had no choice, and he blew up at me. At the end of fight #whothehellisstillcounting he said that maybe he would consider going through with a FET, after counseling. It was like I had been swimming against a rip tide and I suddenly could see the shore, just for a minute. It was hope. But by the time I was snuggled in our bed, I realized that he was just putting me off again. And even if he wasn't, I can't trust anything he says.
This is so unbelievably unfair. If we were a fertile couple, we would have agreed to try after going around and around, and I would have ditched the birth control. Then after trying one month, he would have balked again. Then he would agree to try again. Then we would get pregnant. Then we would lose the baby. We would fight again, and he would agree to try one more time. Then we would have sex, and he would freak out! He would be screaming that there was no way he wanted another child. And he would tell me to take the morning after pill and rant and rave that he was forced into this against his will and that if I became pregnant I would have to have an abortion. WHAT? Hold on...that's illegal. But because I'm infertile, my embryos can exist in a frozen state at three days of life for all eternity. It's not right. I didn't flush birth control pills down the toilet, poke holes in condoms, or sleep with a random guy to get pregnant. It's not even like we got pregnant by accident, because accidents happen to fertile people, not people like us. He signed a permission form. He got his blood tested...including an AIDS test...which he had to sign. He had to give me our prescription card to pay for the medications. He had to watch our children while I drove to the clinic over and over again getting follicle checks and blood draws. And then, the icing on the cake, after he had his freak out and didn't want to go through with it, he spanked into a cup and agreed to have embryos created. GAH!!!
All I wanted was some hope. An actual baby would be nice, but the hope that I could actually get pregnant would be a nice start.
I am tired of having the same conversations with my husband over and over. The last time I only mentioned that we HAD to go to counseling, that he had no choice, and he blew up at me. At the end of fight #whothehellisstillcounting he said that maybe he would consider going through with a FET, after counseling. It was like I had been swimming against a rip tide and I suddenly could see the shore, just for a minute. It was hope. But by the time I was snuggled in our bed, I realized that he was just putting me off again. And even if he wasn't, I can't trust anything he says.
This is so unbelievably unfair. If we were a fertile couple, we would have agreed to try after going around and around, and I would have ditched the birth control. Then after trying one month, he would have balked again. Then he would agree to try again. Then we would get pregnant. Then we would lose the baby. We would fight again, and he would agree to try one more time. Then we would have sex, and he would freak out! He would be screaming that there was no way he wanted another child. And he would tell me to take the morning after pill and rant and rave that he was forced into this against his will and that if I became pregnant I would have to have an abortion. WHAT? Hold on...that's illegal. But because I'm infertile, my embryos can exist in a frozen state at three days of life for all eternity. It's not right. I didn't flush birth control pills down the toilet, poke holes in condoms, or sleep with a random guy to get pregnant. It's not even like we got pregnant by accident, because accidents happen to fertile people, not people like us. He signed a permission form. He got his blood tested...including an AIDS test...which he had to sign. He had to give me our prescription card to pay for the medications. He had to watch our children while I drove to the clinic over and over again getting follicle checks and blood draws. And then, the icing on the cake, after he had his freak out and didn't want to go through with it, he spanked into a cup and agreed to have embryos created. GAH!!!
All I wanted was some hope. An actual baby would be nice, but the hope that I could actually get pregnant would be a nice start.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
This too shall pass
I need to have some hope. I need something to look forward to. It is hard for me right now because I am a do-er person. I don't sit around and hope for things to happen. When I feel stuck (and boy do I feel stuck right now) I look around for something I can do about it. Which is how I got into this mess in the first place. Since there is nothing I can do about my current situation, I have decided to look back. There were so many times I have been down-in-the-ditch-low with seemingly no way out...and yet I'm here. I'm not in that ditch anymore. I may be in an equally nasty ditch of my own making, but if I made it out then, I can make it out now.
January of 2003 was a nasty spot. We had been ttc for 3 years, and had been undergoing ART for one of them. 2002 had been a whirlwind of doctors, tests, piles of medications...but only two actual cycles attempted. After the second cycle failed, a FET, my RE told us that he would not go forward and pursue any more treatments until I had my nasty fibroid removed. The only thing was that the fibroid was of a sort that had many tentacles reaching outward. There was a good chance that I would lose my uterus from blood loss. There was also a chance that it was cancerous because it was growing so fast. I wouldn't be able to go through the surgery until May, and then there would be months of recovery after that...if I had a uterus. I was already 33 years old. I didn't want to wait anymore. I didn't want to have surgery. I was a mess. But here I am now! I've still got my uterus, and it still works. I lost my job, I spent a whole summer pretty much an invalid, but it was worth it. I can say that now with my 20/20 hindsight.
January 2005 was equally depressing. After finally being allowed to do another round of ART, I was finally pregnant. But it was short lived, and I ended up using cytotec to end the pregnancy after 8 weeks because there was no heartbeat. I was terrified because I thought that the surgery had rendered my uterus totally inhospitable. We had some embryos frozen in storage, but I was afraid to try again. I began looking at our state's foster care website, and I began to have hope again...even if it wasn't the road to parenthood I'd been expecting. We had awesome insurance which paid for a limitless amount of cycles...and we had embryos in storage. We couldn't pursue adoption while leaving that chance up in the air, so in March we did a Hail Mary FET. It was both frightening and depressing, there wasn't much hope or happiness in it. But needless to say, it worked. By the end of 2005 our twins were born safe and healthy, and after 6 years I considered our TTC journey DONE. I was wrong, of course, but at least the hardest parts of the road were behind me.
There have been many other hard things than infertility to deal with along the way. Trying to buy a home comes to mind...it was really tough both times. Looking around at my house now I still can't believe it that we could afford this place. (I won't talk about all the frightening possible paranormal activity, or the mice, which are annoying but at least cute). And I haven't mentioned January of 2006, in which I was totally, utterly miserable from PPD with a dash of PTSD thrown in for seasoning.
I am here. I don't know what to do about my current state of unhappiness and helplessness, but this too will pass, and if it works out the way that I wish and hope for, how amazing will that be? Maybe next year I will be able to look back on this time and smile.
January of 2003 was a nasty spot. We had been ttc for 3 years, and had been undergoing ART for one of them. 2002 had been a whirlwind of doctors, tests, piles of medications...but only two actual cycles attempted. After the second cycle failed, a FET, my RE told us that he would not go forward and pursue any more treatments until I had my nasty fibroid removed. The only thing was that the fibroid was of a sort that had many tentacles reaching outward. There was a good chance that I would lose my uterus from blood loss. There was also a chance that it was cancerous because it was growing so fast. I wouldn't be able to go through the surgery until May, and then there would be months of recovery after that...if I had a uterus. I was already 33 years old. I didn't want to wait anymore. I didn't want to have surgery. I was a mess. But here I am now! I've still got my uterus, and it still works. I lost my job, I spent a whole summer pretty much an invalid, but it was worth it. I can say that now with my 20/20 hindsight.
January 2005 was equally depressing. After finally being allowed to do another round of ART, I was finally pregnant. But it was short lived, and I ended up using cytotec to end the pregnancy after 8 weeks because there was no heartbeat. I was terrified because I thought that the surgery had rendered my uterus totally inhospitable. We had some embryos frozen in storage, but I was afraid to try again. I began looking at our state's foster care website, and I began to have hope again...even if it wasn't the road to parenthood I'd been expecting. We had awesome insurance which paid for a limitless amount of cycles...and we had embryos in storage. We couldn't pursue adoption while leaving that chance up in the air, so in March we did a Hail Mary FET. It was both frightening and depressing, there wasn't much hope or happiness in it. But needless to say, it worked. By the end of 2005 our twins were born safe and healthy, and after 6 years I considered our TTC journey DONE. I was wrong, of course, but at least the hardest parts of the road were behind me.
There have been many other hard things than infertility to deal with along the way. Trying to buy a home comes to mind...it was really tough both times. Looking around at my house now I still can't believe it that we could afford this place. (I won't talk about all the frightening possible paranormal activity, or the mice, which are annoying but at least cute). And I haven't mentioned January of 2006, in which I was totally, utterly miserable from PPD with a dash of PTSD thrown in for seasoning.
I am here. I don't know what to do about my current state of unhappiness and helplessness, but this too will pass, and if it works out the way that I wish and hope for, how amazing will that be? Maybe next year I will be able to look back on this time and smile.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Hey, 2012, don't let the door hit you on the way out!
2012 was not the best year for me. It wasn't the worst, not by a long shot, but it wasn't great. I am glad to see it go!
The Christmas season was a lot of fun here. Aside from the moments of total melancholy on the 19th and the 21st, I was too busy preparing for Christmas, cleaning up after Christmas, preparing for in laws, cleaning up again, having a New Year's party...then cleaning up again. I had offered to have Christmas dinner at our house this year, but I didn't expect my mom to take me up on it. I was very happy she did. Focusing on getting everything I needed done took my mind off of things until Christmas.
I spoiled my kids absolutely rotten. It was the first Christmas I have worked and had my own money to spend since the twins were born 7 years ago. I took absolute delight in choosing gifts I knew they would love. My sister and mother in law also spoiled them, buying all three of them big Christmas gifts for the first time ever. Christmas morning was a crazy delight...and then I had to find a home immediately for three kids worth of stocking stuff and a giant pile of wrapping paper.
By 10:30 I had the turkey on the spit and in front of the fire. (the pictures show a chicken, the turkey looked exactly the same when it was done, only twice as big). The contraption that you see there is called a 'tin kitchen' and it is an 18th century cooking device. It is the best way in the world to cook a turkey, and incredibly easy to boot. We had 14 adults and 4 children for dinner, including ourselves, and it was a bit of a trick making enough table space for everyone. We ended up pressing every table we own in the house into service, including our computer desk and the boys' desk from upstairs.The dinner went amazingly well, but I was exhausted and glad to have the last of our guests leave at almost midnight.
Now the holidays are finally over. I took the last of the decorations off of the tree today. I'm so sad to see it go. I wish I had big plans for 2013. But I am left with a weak resolution to not be so sad. 2012 had some great times. There was my daughter's birthday party and the first day of school.
Halloween and the boys 7th birthday. But the special times make me sad, too. I walked down the street on Halloween looking up at the stars and just wishing that I could stop time. If I could just hold my breathe, would they stay little, just a little bit longer? I'm not sad because I don't appreciate everything I have, but because I am infinitely greedy. I can't get enough. How many more years will my boys let me hold their hands as we trick or treat? How many years will they believe in Santa Claus? I don't know. And I am afraid that I will spend the rest of my life bitterly resenting my husband and never forgiving him for taking my last chance.
I spoiled my kids absolutely rotten. It was the first Christmas I have worked and had my own money to spend since the twins were born 7 years ago. I took absolute delight in choosing gifts I knew they would love. My sister and mother in law also spoiled them, buying all three of them big Christmas gifts for the first time ever. Christmas morning was a crazy delight...and then I had to find a home immediately for three kids worth of stocking stuff and a giant pile of wrapping paper.
By 10:30 I had the turkey on the spit and in front of the fire. (the pictures show a chicken, the turkey looked exactly the same when it was done, only twice as big). The contraption that you see there is called a 'tin kitchen' and it is an 18th century cooking device. It is the best way in the world to cook a turkey, and incredibly easy to boot. We had 14 adults and 4 children for dinner, including ourselves, and it was a bit of a trick making enough table space for everyone. We ended up pressing every table we own in the house into service, including our computer desk and the boys' desk from upstairs.The dinner went amazingly well, but I was exhausted and glad to have the last of our guests leave at almost midnight.
Now the holidays are finally over. I took the last of the decorations off of the tree today. I'm so sad to see it go. I wish I had big plans for 2013. But I am left with a weak resolution to not be so sad. 2012 had some great times. There was my daughter's birthday party and the first day of school.Halloween and the boys 7th birthday. But the special times make me sad, too. I walked down the street on Halloween looking up at the stars and just wishing that I could stop time. If I could just hold my breathe, would they stay little, just a little bit longer? I'm not sad because I don't appreciate everything I have, but because I am infinitely greedy. I can't get enough. How many more years will my boys let me hold their hands as we trick or treat? How many years will they believe in Santa Claus? I don't know. And I am afraid that I will spend the rest of my life bitterly resenting my husband and never forgiving him for taking my last chance.
Friday, December 21, 2012
The End of the World as We Know It
Last year on December 21 I had my first scheduled appointment with my OB. It was supposed to be a happy time, but instead I got to see my doctor's newest most wonderful ultrasound machine giving me a clear image of the bean floating to the bottom of my uterus, it's sack collapsing upon it like a deflated balloon, no heartbeat in sight. It wasn't like it was a surprise or anything. I had started bleeding on the 19th and they showed me the fact that it had no heartbeat then. But I had been hoping, not for a miracle, but that there would be nothing there, so I wouldn't have to schedule a D&C. No such luck.
December 19th started my week at the end of the World. I am no longer the same person. I no longer have the same life. The bean died and it took a part of me with it. All year I have been dreading this time, it's like a twisted alternate Universe Advent, with little chocolates of pain behind doors of razor wire and glass. On the 19th I just broke down and cried, right there at the kitchen table. I didn't even have the decency to go into the bathroom and hide my tears. I sat there and dared my daughter to come in and ask me why I was crying, but she didn't, and I got up and washed my face and carried on. I don't want to carry on. I want to curl up in bed and wake up on Christmas morning and wallow in my children's happiness and love. I don't want to be here for one minute of December 23rd. I don't want to remember, not for one moment, the hard looks on the nurses faces...as if I was having an abortion by choice two days before Christmas. I don't want to think about the elderly nurse asking me if I was still bleeding in her heavy accent, and her telling me that it meant that it was not too late for me to have more children if I was. I don't want to hear them telling me it was not too late to change my mind. Then the icing on the cake, the anesthesiologist asking me the date of my last period, and then inquiring if I could possibly be pregnant? Begging the question, does anyone in a hospital read a fucking chart anymore? Why didn't it say anywhere, this is a miscarriage, handle with care, be kind? Because I need some kindness, here, at the End of the World.
December 19th started my week at the end of the World. I am no longer the same person. I no longer have the same life. The bean died and it took a part of me with it. All year I have been dreading this time, it's like a twisted alternate Universe Advent, with little chocolates of pain behind doors of razor wire and glass. On the 19th I just broke down and cried, right there at the kitchen table. I didn't even have the decency to go into the bathroom and hide my tears. I sat there and dared my daughter to come in and ask me why I was crying, but she didn't, and I got up and washed my face and carried on. I don't want to carry on. I want to curl up in bed and wake up on Christmas morning and wallow in my children's happiness and love. I don't want to be here for one minute of December 23rd. I don't want to remember, not for one moment, the hard looks on the nurses faces...as if I was having an abortion by choice two days before Christmas. I don't want to think about the elderly nurse asking me if I was still bleeding in her heavy accent, and her telling me that it meant that it was not too late for me to have more children if I was. I don't want to hear them telling me it was not too late to change my mind. Then the icing on the cake, the anesthesiologist asking me the date of my last period, and then inquiring if I could possibly be pregnant? Begging the question, does anyone in a hospital read a fucking chart anymore? Why didn't it say anywhere, this is a miscarriage, handle with care, be kind? Because I need some kindness, here, at the End of the World.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Tragedy
On the other side of the state, a gunman walked into an elementary school and murdered 20 children and 6 adults. It is a town much like our town, a school very much like my kids' school. All of my heart, the most important part of my life, goes to that school each day, and I trust that they will come home safe to me. Today, 20 sets of parents and 6 other families had their trust shattered and their hearts torn apart.
My husband and I had our first apartment in Danbury 15 years ago. We lived within minutes of that school. There is a very good chance that people that both my husband and I worked with went to Sandy Hook, and have kids that go there now.
How can this happen? It took over six years to bring our sons into being...the thought that they could be taken away from us in just a minute by a madman with a gun....there are no words. I don't think I could survive it.
All my thoughts and prayers are with the families of the children, teachers, and the brave principal at Sandy Hook. I hope that our Governor and State Board of Education do something, anything, to improve the safety of our schools.
My husband and I had our first apartment in Danbury 15 years ago. We lived within minutes of that school. There is a very good chance that people that both my husband and I worked with went to Sandy Hook, and have kids that go there now.
How can this happen? It took over six years to bring our sons into being...the thought that they could be taken away from us in just a minute by a madman with a gun....there are no words. I don't think I could survive it.
All my thoughts and prayers are with the families of the children, teachers, and the brave principal at Sandy Hook. I hope that our Governor and State Board of Education do something, anything, to improve the safety of our schools.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Today
Today it has been a year since I found out I was pregnant with the bean. In another 4 weeks or so it will have been a year since I lost the bean. Happy times.
I'm no closer to trying again than I was 5 months ago. I feel like I was forced off of the IVF cycle train onto a platform in the middle of nowhere, and no train ever comes. I'm not sure what to do here. Should I jump off the platform and start walking? Wait for a train? Give up and decide that the platform is a great place to hang out indefinitely?
I'm so tired of being angry at my husband. I'm not all the time, but often enough, and rightfully so. He hasn't done anything about finding us a couples counselor or trying to bridge the gap between us. That's not to say that he hasn't been nice, or sweet, or that I haven't tried to do nice things for him and be sweet back. But sometimes I just get so angry. I am also tired of being sad. I don't want to be sad anymore...or hopeful...or to want another baby anymore. But I DO want, and I can't help it, and I can't make myself stop wishing or hoping that things will change.
I know how old my baby would have been. I feel its absence all the time. I missed the little costumed bundle on Halloween. I missed the baby in the backseat today when we visited the aquarium. I miss the crying in the night when I am lying in bed awake.
Kant says that the recipe for happiness is to have something to do, someone to love, and something to hope for. Well...I love my children desperately, but I have nothing much to do except laundry and yard work until I get my job back in the Spring...and as for something to hope for, I don't have much.
Thank You to all of the kind people who have dropped by here during my self enforced exile. Reading about pregnancies and babies is still very painful, but I still read your posts. I'm trying to crawl my way back, and I wish you all the best. I'm going to try to comment more and post more, even though I don't have anything to say.
I'm no closer to trying again than I was 5 months ago. I feel like I was forced off of the IVF cycle train onto a platform in the middle of nowhere, and no train ever comes. I'm not sure what to do here. Should I jump off the platform and start walking? Wait for a train? Give up and decide that the platform is a great place to hang out indefinitely?
I'm so tired of being angry at my husband. I'm not all the time, but often enough, and rightfully so. He hasn't done anything about finding us a couples counselor or trying to bridge the gap between us. That's not to say that he hasn't been nice, or sweet, or that I haven't tried to do nice things for him and be sweet back. But sometimes I just get so angry. I am also tired of being sad. I don't want to be sad anymore...or hopeful...or to want another baby anymore. But I DO want, and I can't help it, and I can't make myself stop wishing or hoping that things will change.
I know how old my baby would have been. I feel its absence all the time. I missed the little costumed bundle on Halloween. I missed the baby in the backseat today when we visited the aquarium. I miss the crying in the night when I am lying in bed awake.
Kant says that the recipe for happiness is to have something to do, someone to love, and something to hope for. Well...I love my children desperately, but I have nothing much to do except laundry and yard work until I get my job back in the Spring...and as for something to hope for, I don't have much.
Thank You to all of the kind people who have dropped by here during my self enforced exile. Reading about pregnancies and babies is still very painful, but I still read your posts. I'm trying to crawl my way back, and I wish you all the best. I'm going to try to comment more and post more, even though I don't have anything to say.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
I wish I had something to say. I keep coming back to my blog as if I'm hoping that some happy entry will appear, just like when I'm reading other people's blogs. But alas, no happy blogger gnomes have written any posts about my life. Oh dang it.
I do have good news. I got a job. It is actually in my field, the pay is better than minimum wage, and the commute can't be beat..all I have to do is walk out my front door and cross the street. At any other time I would be floating on cloud nine. One of the reasons I was so excited to move here was because there was a museum across the street and I was hoping that I could get my career back on track. I am so sad that an opportunity that at any other time would seem heaven sent just tastes like ashes in my mouth. I am just so struck low. I am happy for no one, I envy everyone, I hope for nothing.
I spent a good two hours pouring through a box of papers looking for my birth certificate and social security card. What I found instead were baby shower cards, newborn photos of my twins, ultrasound pictures, mothers day cards, love notes from my husband, and so many cards and letters from him telling me "we will get through this, we will have children." I envy myself most of all. Why can't I remember all these happy moments better than I do? Why does it seem like it has all happened to someone else? I walk around during a normal day and a sudden jolt will hit me out of the blue. It feels like the sudden panic that you get when you are in a taxi and you realize that your purse with all of your money and your passport is still hanging over the back of the chair in the restaurant, or maybe the one when you get off the elevator in the parking garage and there is only a glass on the ground where your car is supposed to be. I keep hoping for the relief when I look down at my feet and see my purse has been there all along, or that I took the wrong elevator and my car is safe and sound across the lot. But the relief never comes. I feel so helpless to do anything to make that feeling go away. And my husband has been so incredibly....nice! I can't stand it. Why can't he at least be a jerk so I can hate his guts? He's a nice guy. He WANTS to be the nice guy. Except that nothing about what he did was nice. He stole my purse, he stole my car, he knocked me down. He dangled hope in front of me and then he snatched it away.
I was so lucky to be able to vacation on the most wonderful island you can imagine. All I have ever wanted since I left was to go back. I know that there are so many others who have never been there even once...but I was so close.
I do have good news. I got a job. It is actually in my field, the pay is better than minimum wage, and the commute can't be beat..all I have to do is walk out my front door and cross the street. At any other time I would be floating on cloud nine. One of the reasons I was so excited to move here was because there was a museum across the street and I was hoping that I could get my career back on track. I am so sad that an opportunity that at any other time would seem heaven sent just tastes like ashes in my mouth. I am just so struck low. I am happy for no one, I envy everyone, I hope for nothing.
I spent a good two hours pouring through a box of papers looking for my birth certificate and social security card. What I found instead were baby shower cards, newborn photos of my twins, ultrasound pictures, mothers day cards, love notes from my husband, and so many cards and letters from him telling me "we will get through this, we will have children." I envy myself most of all. Why can't I remember all these happy moments better than I do? Why does it seem like it has all happened to someone else? I walk around during a normal day and a sudden jolt will hit me out of the blue. It feels like the sudden panic that you get when you are in a taxi and you realize that your purse with all of your money and your passport is still hanging over the back of the chair in the restaurant, or maybe the one when you get off the elevator in the parking garage and there is only a glass on the ground where your car is supposed to be. I keep hoping for the relief when I look down at my feet and see my purse has been there all along, or that I took the wrong elevator and my car is safe and sound across the lot. But the relief never comes. I feel so helpless to do anything to make that feeling go away. And my husband has been so incredibly....nice! I can't stand it. Why can't he at least be a jerk so I can hate his guts? He's a nice guy. He WANTS to be the nice guy. Except that nothing about what he did was nice. He stole my purse, he stole my car, he knocked me down. He dangled hope in front of me and then he snatched it away.
I was so lucky to be able to vacation on the most wonderful island you can imagine. All I have ever wanted since I left was to go back. I know that there are so many others who have never been there even once...but I was so close.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Mother's Day
I'm still here. Limping along.
Mother's day was about what I expected. I loved waking up to my kids piling on top of me with the cards they had made and purchased. Both of my boys had cute crafty things they had made at school, which are worth their weight in gold. I was always totally skeptical of my mother's teary-eyed joy when I would give her my handmade cards and gifts, but now I know she wasn't lying. They are truly priceless.
The rest of my weekend pretty much sucked off and on. Friday I found out that my daughter got into the pre school program. I thought I would be happy with the news, but it made me weepy on Friday and I have been fighting a downward funk ever since. I was supposed to be having a baby in July. AK going to school for almost 3 hours a day was going to be the time I could spend alone with the baby, as well as giving AK time to socialize and prepare for kindergarten. I keep thinking I should be happy, that I should be looking forward to a chunk of time without any children around, but I'm not. The silence of having the house all to myself is the last thing I want. It's not like there isn't a thousand things I could find to occupy my time for 2 hours and 45 minutes...it's just that I probably won't want to do a single one of them.
I truly don't know what to do or where to go from here. If I had transferred embryos and gotten a BFN, I would be where I am now, grieving and struggling. That's fine. Well, it's not FINE, but it is what it is. I was prepared for the giant tidal wave of loss-on-top of loss-on top of this-is-the-very-end that I'm drowning in. But, now I have the never ending suck of not knowing how to deal with my husband. I just don't know what to do. I guess it's like how two people stumble around each other after one of them has had an affair, when neither one of them wants to give up on the marriage and leave. Except that is something my husband would understand, my reaction to this he thinks is "childish"...any day now I should just get over it and everything will get back to normal. What he doesn't realize is that right now he could toss a woman on the floor in front of me and go all '50 shades of grey' on her ass and I wouldn't even care. I'm that numb inside. If it wasn't for our kids I would probably have changed the locks weeks ago.
Mother's day was about what I expected. I loved waking up to my kids piling on top of me with the cards they had made and purchased. Both of my boys had cute crafty things they had made at school, which are worth their weight in gold. I was always totally skeptical of my mother's teary-eyed joy when I would give her my handmade cards and gifts, but now I know she wasn't lying. They are truly priceless.
The rest of my weekend pretty much sucked off and on. Friday I found out that my daughter got into the pre school program. I thought I would be happy with the news, but it made me weepy on Friday and I have been fighting a downward funk ever since. I was supposed to be having a baby in July. AK going to school for almost 3 hours a day was going to be the time I could spend alone with the baby, as well as giving AK time to socialize and prepare for kindergarten. I keep thinking I should be happy, that I should be looking forward to a chunk of time without any children around, but I'm not. The silence of having the house all to myself is the last thing I want. It's not like there isn't a thousand things I could find to occupy my time for 2 hours and 45 minutes...it's just that I probably won't want to do a single one of them.
I truly don't know what to do or where to go from here. If I had transferred embryos and gotten a BFN, I would be where I am now, grieving and struggling. That's fine. Well, it's not FINE, but it is what it is. I was prepared for the giant tidal wave of loss-on-top of loss-on top of this-is-the-very-end that I'm drowning in. But, now I have the never ending suck of not knowing how to deal with my husband. I just don't know what to do. I guess it's like how two people stumble around each other after one of them has had an affair, when neither one of them wants to give up on the marriage and leave. Except that is something my husband would understand, my reaction to this he thinks is "childish"...any day now I should just get over it and everything will get back to normal. What he doesn't realize is that right now he could toss a woman on the floor in front of me and go all '50 shades of grey' on her ass and I wouldn't even care. I'm that numb inside. If it wasn't for our kids I would probably have changed the locks weeks ago.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Frozen
Yesterday was both a non event and a total nightmare. My husband and the counselor talked like old buddies about his stress and going to a marriage counselor, all while my life was on fire. I felt like standing up and yelling "That's great, but can't you see I'm burning? How do I get to make it stop?!?" I told her I would rather destroy the embryos than have them sitting there for the rest of my life. I just want it to be over. It will never be over. They won't let us destroy them, they won't let us transfer them. The counselor must have mentioned 5 times at least how we have three children and 15 years invested in this marriage. I know lady, and he has all of our children hostage. Thanks for reminding me that I have no choice but to hurt or be hurt.
I was blessed on the way up with the sensation of holding a young baby against my shoulder. I could feel the shape of the back of it's head cupped in my hand. I could the feel the weight against my shoulder and the porcelain smooth skin at the temple where I kissed it. I held that baby again when I got home, sitting on the swings in the rain, crying again. I took the baby off my shoulder and laid it on the ground and said goodbye. I can't stop the wishing or the longing, but the hope stops here.
I was blessed on the way up with the sensation of holding a young baby against my shoulder. I could feel the shape of the back of it's head cupped in my hand. I could the feel the weight against my shoulder and the porcelain smooth skin at the temple where I kissed it. I held that baby again when I got home, sitting on the swings in the rain, crying again. I took the baby off my shoulder and laid it on the ground and said goodbye. I can't stop the wishing or the longing, but the hope stops here.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Tomorrow is another day
Tomorrow hubby and I are going in for our counseling session at the fertility clinic. I am incredibly depressed and anxious about this visit. I also feel a little bit angry...ok, a LOT angry. I don't think that anyone should be able to weigh in on how many children my husband and I have except for my husband and me. Yes, my husband is all kinds of messed up and confused, and I don't want to have a child with someone that is feeling so ambivalent...but I don't think that it is their place to stand guard over our embryos. I also feel that part of their motivation for making us put the embryos on ice is a financial one. If they had gone through with the transfer it would be on our insurance, but since a thaw cycle will technically be a separate cycle, they can bill us all over again for something that would be have just been part of the fresh cycle...if they had allowed us to move forward. My husband turned around and said "Just go ahead and do it" 10 minutes after throwing his fit, but they wouldn't let us move forward. If he can have cold feet in the moment, why isn't he allowed to change his mind back just as fast? He will probably have a whole different list of feelings tomorrow, and another 6 months from now.
I am tired of feeling so utterly hopeless. Something that was so close...I was actually pregnant...is now slipping into impossibility. It was a goal, then a dream, and now it is just a fantasy. Some people fantasize about winning the lottery, becoming an American Idol contestant, or finding something incredibly rare and valuable in their attic...I fantasize about having more time. I have given up so much to be a parent, over a decade of my life, and I have put my career indefinitely on hold, and I am watching them grow up and leave bit by bit, day by day. Having another child would give me that time. What do I dream for now? If I won a million dollars tomorrow, I know what I would spend it on, my children...and the chance to have more time being a parent. Going through the 2ww is hard enough, but never being allowed to go through it and get to the other side is just torture. As far as dreams go, nothing compares to the chance to create a new person within your body or to raise a child, at least for me. A new car? who needs it. A stylish wardrobe? whatever. An exciting, profitable career? nice...but at the end of the day I would still give it all to go back in time one day to when my twins were babies. I'd give anything to have one more day helping my daughter learn how to walk. But I can't. One day soon my boys won't blow kisses at me from the school bus, or need me to sing them songs at night, or run to me to give them hugs. One day my daughter will be getting on the school bus and not looking back. I don't want to stop them from growing up, I just want more time. I know that another baby would mean just a few more years, but it is a few more years of everything. I have done everything within my power to make that dream come true, and now I am helpless to finish the deal.
I am tired of feeling so utterly hopeless. Something that was so close...I was actually pregnant...is now slipping into impossibility. It was a goal, then a dream, and now it is just a fantasy. Some people fantasize about winning the lottery, becoming an American Idol contestant, or finding something incredibly rare and valuable in their attic...I fantasize about having more time. I have given up so much to be a parent, over a decade of my life, and I have put my career indefinitely on hold, and I am watching them grow up and leave bit by bit, day by day. Having another child would give me that time. What do I dream for now? If I won a million dollars tomorrow, I know what I would spend it on, my children...and the chance to have more time being a parent. Going through the 2ww is hard enough, but never being allowed to go through it and get to the other side is just torture. As far as dreams go, nothing compares to the chance to create a new person within your body or to raise a child, at least for me. A new car? who needs it. A stylish wardrobe? whatever. An exciting, profitable career? nice...but at the end of the day I would still give it all to go back in time one day to when my twins were babies. I'd give anything to have one more day helping my daughter learn how to walk. But I can't. One day soon my boys won't blow kisses at me from the school bus, or need me to sing them songs at night, or run to me to give them hugs. One day my daughter will be getting on the school bus and not looking back. I don't want to stop them from growing up, I just want more time. I know that another baby would mean just a few more years, but it is a few more years of everything. I have done everything within my power to make that dream come true, and now I am helpless to finish the deal.
Friday, April 20, 2012
I believe in love and disaster
Sometimes the two are just the same
I'm beginning to see, what is left of me will have to be free to survive
And I'll be sleeping by myself tonight
Eddie Vedder
I am still here. I'm still reeling from the shock of last week. My boys have been on vacation since last Friday so I've been acting my normal self on the outside during the day and crying and avoiding my husband at night. Yesterday I went to Mickey D's for dinner and ate in my car in the parking lot so I wouldn't have to sit with other people. I'm tired and sad, and tired of being sad. I'm sure my husband thinks that I will 'just get over it' and that if he keeps pretending it didn't happen then all the bad feelings will just gooooo awaaaaaaay. I'm sure that he thinks that the fact that I'm still here being the good mommy and the good wifey instead of stabbing him with a dull steak knife is proof positive that he's 'done the right thing'.
He must have called my desire to have another child and actually trying to make that dream come true CRAZY about 10 times or more between Friday and Monday. That's right, I'm crazy because I want something he doesn't want. The fact that he actually agreed to all three cycles, not just verbally but with his signature, and that he had his blood tested AND provided the clinic with a sperm sample, all while thinking I was crazy doesn't seem to phase him at all. I'm not the one whose thoughts and actions seem to be at odds with one another. Now because of his craziness our embryos are held hostage by the clinic. I'm sure they will stay there forever. The soonest appointment we can make, thanks to his crazy work schedule will be May 22, and nothing I can say will make any difference. I don't know why he couldn't just let nature be the bad guy. I was all prepared for this cycle to fail just fine all on it's own.
I don't know what I'm going to do, but I know what I'm NOT going to do. I'm never leaving my house or my kids without being forced, and I'm not giving my husband so much as the time of day until he makes this right.
Sometimes the two are just the same
I'm beginning to see, what is left of me will have to be free to survive
And I'll be sleeping by myself tonight
Eddie Vedder
I am still here. I'm still reeling from the shock of last week. My boys have been on vacation since last Friday so I've been acting my normal self on the outside during the day and crying and avoiding my husband at night. Yesterday I went to Mickey D's for dinner and ate in my car in the parking lot so I wouldn't have to sit with other people. I'm tired and sad, and tired of being sad. I'm sure my husband thinks that I will 'just get over it' and that if he keeps pretending it didn't happen then all the bad feelings will just gooooo awaaaaaaay. I'm sure that he thinks that the fact that I'm still here being the good mommy and the good wifey instead of stabbing him with a dull steak knife is proof positive that he's 'done the right thing'.
He must have called my desire to have another child and actually trying to make that dream come true CRAZY about 10 times or more between Friday and Monday. That's right, I'm crazy because I want something he doesn't want. The fact that he actually agreed to all three cycles, not just verbally but with his signature, and that he had his blood tested AND provided the clinic with a sperm sample, all while thinking I was crazy doesn't seem to phase him at all. I'm not the one whose thoughts and actions seem to be at odds with one another. Now because of his craziness our embryos are held hostage by the clinic. I'm sure they will stay there forever. The soonest appointment we can make, thanks to his crazy work schedule will be May 22, and nothing I can say will make any difference. I don't know why he couldn't just let nature be the bad guy. I was all prepared for this cycle to fail just fine all on it's own.
I don't know what I'm going to do, but I know what I'm NOT going to do. I'm never leaving my house or my kids without being forced, and I'm not giving my husband so much as the time of day until he makes this right.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Total effing disaster
Friday totally sucked. My husband decided to have a total freak out and change his mind before we were supposed to go in for the retrieval. We did end up going, but we were very late, and things did not go smoothly. The nurses found us a little office to sit and talk about what we wanted to do. We could either throw in the towel and do a cycle another time, or we could go through with the retrieval if my husband was willing, and put the embryos on ice for another time. They refused to do a transfer on Monday. After all the shit my husband put me through, he decided that he would go through with it. I'm not sure what the point was, since I'm sure those embryos will never see the light of day. We have used up our insurance, so we will have to pay for a thaw cycle out of pocket, and we have to go to the IVF counselor first...which I doubt I will get my husband to attend. And all I kept thinking was I'm supposed to be pregnant right now! What the hell would he do when the baby arrived in July? Disown it?
I would never have bought the medications if I didn't have his support. I wrote right here on this blog that I called him before I put in the order and confirmed that it was ok to move forward. Friday was not the time to back out. Now I can neither hope to become pregnant, or have the closure I so desperately wanted. Now I don't get to be finished...this cycle is indefinitely frozen at it's midpoint. I don't know if, or when, I'll know when to get rid of the crib upstairs. Now I am in limbo forever.
I had 16 eggs, 15 were mature, 8 fertilized. Not that it makes any difference.
I would never have bought the medications if I didn't have his support. I wrote right here on this blog that I called him before I put in the order and confirmed that it was ok to move forward. Friday was not the time to back out. Now I can neither hope to become pregnant, or have the closure I so desperately wanted. Now I don't get to be finished...this cycle is indefinitely frozen at it's midpoint. I don't know if, or when, I'll know when to get rid of the crib upstairs. Now I am in limbo forever.
I had 16 eggs, 15 were mature, 8 fertilized. Not that it makes any difference.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Cycle day 9
It's go time! Trigger is tonight and retrieval is on Friday the 13th. I had lots of follicles that were over 17mm, I think around 15 total, with a an additional 9 or so measuring at 15. I have to stay up until 12:30 tonight to get the trigger shot, and then I have to get up at 6 tomorrow to drive into the city to have blood drawn. Monday is the transfer day, since they always transfer 3 day embryos at my clinic. The amount of embryos they will transfer depends strictly on quality. They have written down 2, 3, 4, or 5 embryos...assuming that we have embryos to transfer. I'm trying not to do any assuming. Past failure doesn't mean we won't have success. And of course...past success doesn't mean that this cycle won't crash and burn. I just keep saying to myself think positive think positive think positive.
I found myself looking at my giant chart and wondering what they will do with it. Will they burn it? Can I take it home? After Monday, will I ever be here again? And if I have embryos enough to freeze....what then? Will I have the strength to dispose of them and move on? Or will they continue to torture me? I must have stood in the waiting room at the lab staring at the chart on the wall that spells out all the odds for a good 5 minutes or more. 103 IVF cycles for women 41-42 last year. 29.9% walked away with a live baby, and of that percentage, 34.4% had multiples. I looked at the statistics and thought that somewhere in those numbers, between women who got pregnant and women who took home a baby, there was me...and by the looks of it a couple of other women like me...who got knocked up but didn't stay that way. Which number will I be this time? Nobody knows. You spin the wheel and you take your chances.
Thank you to everyone who has stuck by me. Good luck to all the women who are spinning the wheel with me. Good luck to us all.
I found myself looking at my giant chart and wondering what they will do with it. Will they burn it? Can I take it home? After Monday, will I ever be here again? And if I have embryos enough to freeze....what then? Will I have the strength to dispose of them and move on? Or will they continue to torture me? I must have stood in the waiting room at the lab staring at the chart on the wall that spells out all the odds for a good 5 minutes or more. 103 IVF cycles for women 41-42 last year. 29.9% walked away with a live baby, and of that percentage, 34.4% had multiples. I looked at the statistics and thought that somewhere in those numbers, between women who got pregnant and women who took home a baby, there was me...and by the looks of it a couple of other women like me...who got knocked up but didn't stay that way. Which number will I be this time? Nobody knows. You spin the wheel and you take your chances.
Thank you to everyone who has stuck by me. Good luck to all the women who are spinning the wheel with me. Good luck to us all.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Cycle day 7
It's cycle day 7, or at least that's what I was told. I've got follicles popping out all over. The intern giving me my scan today said that my ovaries were "over achievers". That's nice to know :) I have a conservative count of about 12-14 follicles measurable follicles, with several smaller ones in the running. My estrogen was high enough to dial down the Gonal a couple of notches. Next check is on Wednesday. I'm betting on a Friday or Saturday retrieval.
I have been plugging along. We've bought paint, curtains, and hold backs. We've all gotten sick, and gotten better again. We've dyed Easter eggs, started seeds indoors, and spent countless hours enjoying the flowers and the sunshine. I've also spent many hours researching about IEPs and disability law, while reading with NB from the school book I purchased from Amazon and trying to bring him up to speed. But most of my time is just spent waiting. I'm waiting for the school to set a date for NB's PPT. I'm waiting for the painting of the trim to be done and for wallpaper to arrive. I'm waiting for warmer spring weather. And most of all, I'm waiting for retrieval and transfer, the 2ww, and the results.
I wish I had a back up plan for the worst case scenario. It would be great to be able to plan a tropical vacation or something of that sort. A class on something fun and totally unnecessary would be cool...like basket weaving or print making. Maybe even a new pet is a possibility. Out of all the animals my husband and I have adopted over the years only one cat remains. It would be nice to have something small and fluffy to love, to help fill the hole in my heart. I'm so afraid of facing the earthquake and the tsunami with only my children to keep me anchored. I'm so afraid of drowning under a wave of grief and the drudgery of the every day grind. I want my children to be safe from the after shock, and for my husband to be there with a life boat.
I have been plugging along. We've bought paint, curtains, and hold backs. We've all gotten sick, and gotten better again. We've dyed Easter eggs, started seeds indoors, and spent countless hours enjoying the flowers and the sunshine. I've also spent many hours researching about IEPs and disability law, while reading with NB from the school book I purchased from Amazon and trying to bring him up to speed. But most of my time is just spent waiting. I'm waiting for the school to set a date for NB's PPT. I'm waiting for the painting of the trim to be done and for wallpaper to arrive. I'm waiting for warmer spring weather. And most of all, I'm waiting for retrieval and transfer, the 2ww, and the results.
I wish I had a back up plan for the worst case scenario. It would be great to be able to plan a tropical vacation or something of that sort. A class on something fun and totally unnecessary would be cool...like basket weaving or print making. Maybe even a new pet is a possibility. Out of all the animals my husband and I have adopted over the years only one cat remains. It would be nice to have something small and fluffy to love, to help fill the hole in my heart. I'm so afraid of facing the earthquake and the tsunami with only my children to keep me anchored. I'm so afraid of drowning under a wave of grief and the drudgery of the every day grind. I want my children to be safe from the after shock, and for my husband to be there with a life boat.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Socks! And other small and monumental things
Lindsay at Tiny Bits of Hope has sent me the most delicious socks through the sock exchange. (thanks to Cristy at Searching for our silver lining!). They are warm and cozy, perfect for the chilly damp of a New England spring. And they have polka dots...which I love. I wore them today (as you can see) because I couldn't wait, but I will be wearing them this Saturday when I have my next ultrasound, guaranteed.
Now I have to get some socks for my sock buddy. I'm working on it, I promise.
Yesterday I FINALLY got in for my baseline ultrasound and bloodwork. Everything looked great, and I was all on track to start stims. Then I waltzed out the door without having my blood drawn. ARG! I can't believe I did that. So I had to go to the local lab bright and early today instead. Hopefully I will be able to start stims today. Geez Louise it's taking me forever to get started this cycle. Can you tell that subconsciously I'm dragging my feet? Because I think I am. Because if this cycle doesn't start...then it can't come to a painful end. I have become just a tad bit fatalistic about the whole thing. The way I see it, there are countless ways that this cycle can end badly, and only one way for it to end well.
When I started this last round of ttc, I was naively ignorant of the consequences. I wanted another baby, we had health insurance....I figured I was 'playing with house money'. This baby would be a total bonus, the icing on an already rich and wonderful cake. I thought I had nothing to lose. What did I know? I lost a piece of my heart. I was overjoyed to have three more chances for a baby, and if I hadn't gotten pregnant and miscarried, I would still be excited this last cycle. But the miscarriage sucked all the hope and all of the excitement of trying right out of me. I am still trying to put the pieces of my heart back in place, and not doing the greatest job of it, I have to say.
Good thing my heart doesn't talk to my uterus and ovaries, and that being sad, scared, and heartbroken hasn't kept me from getting pregnant in the past. There are icebergs in the water, but I'm still moving ahead.
Yesterday I FINALLY got in for my baseline ultrasound and bloodwork. Everything looked great, and I was all on track to start stims. Then I waltzed out the door without having my blood drawn. ARG! I can't believe I did that. So I had to go to the local lab bright and early today instead. Hopefully I will be able to start stims today. Geez Louise it's taking me forever to get started this cycle. Can you tell that subconsciously I'm dragging my feet? Because I think I am. Because if this cycle doesn't start...then it can't come to a painful end. I have become just a tad bit fatalistic about the whole thing. The way I see it, there are countless ways that this cycle can end badly, and only one way for it to end well.
When I started this last round of ttc, I was naively ignorant of the consequences. I wanted another baby, we had health insurance....I figured I was 'playing with house money'. This baby would be a total bonus, the icing on an already rich and wonderful cake. I thought I had nothing to lose. What did I know? I lost a piece of my heart. I was overjoyed to have three more chances for a baby, and if I hadn't gotten pregnant and miscarried, I would still be excited this last cycle. But the miscarriage sucked all the hope and all of the excitement of trying right out of me. I am still trying to put the pieces of my heart back in place, and not doing the greatest job of it, I have to say.
Good thing my heart doesn't talk to my uterus and ovaries, and that being sad, scared, and heartbroken hasn't kept me from getting pregnant in the past. There are icebergs in the water, but I'm still moving ahead.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Sick and tired
Yet another lovely Friday in the chickenpen. This week our house has been taken over by the plague. It started on Wednesday night with my husband feeling poorly. Then early Thursday morning it spread to me, and last night poor NB fell ill. He's been such a brave, little trooper. AK has been wearing pull ups all day, poor thing, although she seems to be her chipper self. Only DA appears to be unaffected so far (knock on wood).
I was supposed to go to the clinic on Thursday, but for obvious reasons, it wasn't happening. The nurse told me to keep taking the Lupron and to call today if I couldn't make it. Well, I feel worse today than yesterday. According to the nurse everything is fine and I can keep taking the Lupron until Monday. I hope I can make it. I just feel so tired. I can't help but wonder if this is a sign that I should just give up. My heart already feels heavy. To be honest, I just don't have any hope that this cycle will work. I just want to dig a hole and crawl inside. I feel so shaky on my feet already, and I just know that the next wind is going to knock me down. I guess that all I can do is to keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope I'm wrong.
I was supposed to go to the clinic on Thursday, but for obvious reasons, it wasn't happening. The nurse told me to keep taking the Lupron and to call today if I couldn't make it. Well, I feel worse today than yesterday. According to the nurse everything is fine and I can keep taking the Lupron until Monday. I hope I can make it. I just feel so tired. I can't help but wonder if this is a sign that I should just give up. My heart already feels heavy. To be honest, I just don't have any hope that this cycle will work. I just want to dig a hole and crawl inside. I feel so shaky on my feet already, and I just know that the next wind is going to knock me down. I guess that all I can do is to keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope I'm wrong.
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