Run-on Sentence

This is not a post about grammar. Certainly not from a former business major.

I hate ambiguity. I hate 700 page books (although I read them anyway) because I want to rush to the end. I micro-manage my life to receive the biggest "bang for the buck", in the least amount of time of course.  My usual mode is get from point A to point B.  It works for me.

My infertility journey, not so linear. Pretty much a never ending book.

My story is different than many that walked the path before me and alongside me.

There was no success, no "graduation", no closing of a book in a defined timeline.  My journey ended with a big question mark followed by a ...  as in, to be continued...  but for how long?

Some days I almost forget how I got here, and other days it hits me square in the face.  On the worst days I encounter a random event that feels much like a bandage being ripped off from a fresh wound.

A friend of mine is having a very complicated and extended ending to a miscarriage of sorts, similar to one of my losses years ago. It brings me back to a place I hate to go. Uncertainty, irony, sadness, anger, and impatience at the world. Oh, how I feel her pain.

Today is one of those days I am rolling in the muckity-muck. My heart feels raw for all of us that don't get the happy endings and neatly wrapped gift... rather those of us who get the loosely wrapped present... paper ripped, tape falling off, bow askew. What the hell does one do with that mess?

For a long time I felt mad, and over the years I just could not shove it into the dark or bend the hurt and anger into something worthwhile. Sometimes when my guard was down, the feeling faded into the background, but it never really left. Just lurked out there, waiting. Unresolved.

I mean, my path is highly unusual. I get it. I have a son from some miracle of miracles and then the train went off the rails. Trust me, I know how fortunate I was.  Once.

But let's get real- secondary infertility often drives odd judgement from others. I try to fly under the radar and brush the naysayers to the side.  I run into them often (and they are always fertile beings, ironically).

No, I am not always happy with what I have.  Does that make me a terrible human being?  No.  It means I am being truthful and allowing myself to feel the disappointment- and, without disappointment, the joys in life just don't shine as brightly.

It's okay really. But what stings the most is never knowing when "to be continued" turns into "The End."

That sentence can be short, or painfully run on.

No ending in sight.

Avoiding the Obvious

The message for National Infertility Awareness Week is "not to ignore infertility" and instead of preaching the message, I am here to tell you I am guilty of doing just that.

I came here on Monday ready to write a sun-shiny post (like I do every year) to support the message. But nothing came. I just stared at the keys on the keyboard.... unable to find any words.

The words did not come because of sadness- that my infertility journey was a long, wasted effort into the depths of hell and back with no success.

The words did not come because of anger- for myself and my sisters, that our journeys are sometimes dismissed by our fertile friends, or worse, ignored completely because Infertility happens "to other people" or "for reasons we are not supposed to know...". Hmmmmmm.

The words did not come when the fifth fish died in our new fish tank yesterday. Yes, a fish tank. It appears that I experienced a nuclear meltdown when I reminded my husband that we lost five humans via miscarriage, and GOD DAMMIT we had five fish we couldn't keep alive in a tank.

The words, very simply, did not come until about an hour ago... when I realized that my journey came to an end a few years ago, and I've been avoiding thinking about it.

Avoiding.

I am thinking about it now, and the feeling I feel....  is emptiness.

I pray that anyone reading this never, ever walks my path. I hope to God that I have taken the statistical bullet for you.

Because I could never bear to know and love a friend and have this ending be a reality for them too.

For you.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

You're a hard habit to break

Am I crazy?

Well, I AM sitting in bed typing this late at night while guzzling a sports drink. I just about had a coronary a few minutes ago soon after quenching my thirst realizing that I was inadvertently drinking Weight Watchers points.

Wait, let me use my nifty scanner on my iPad.

Oh damn, I just drank 4 points. Argh!

Habits, so hard to break.

Sigh............, I'm back on the wagon. For the 2,566th time.

So while I've been spending time away from this place, life happens. This latest foray into weight control has no connection to a new years resolution. Rather, it's a pure scared straight lesson for a middle-aged woman. I guess that's what I am now, today... middle-aged.... If I happen to live to the age of 88.

Another birthday has solidified my need to do things differently.

Lately, I've been spending far more time in doctor's offices and labs than normal. It appears that this may continue into the foreseeable future. No firm diagnosis yet, just chatter and prognostication.

Damn, I've always wanted to use the word "prognostication" in this blog. Yes!!
Another item on the bucket list.

I had a blood draw a few days ago, and I stumped the nursing staff when my best vein decided it would shut down between test tubes 5 and 6. I had 9 to fill, so they poked around in my bad arm. Made me wistful of the good 'ole days at the RE office during infertility treatment. Those nurses knew my arms like they had a built-in GPS unit.

What I know for sure is I feel like I am 88. My muscles are so, so tender. My hair, well...you know... but now it pales in comparison to the other issues. Walking is a chore. It feels like I am trapped in a stranger's body. I don't know if losing weight will cure the diagnosis on the horizon, but I know it will help.

Thank goodness this situation hasn't curbed my Internet use. (snicker)

So, there I go again. The only beast as big and scary as infertility is losing my health, and I'll be damned if I take this next chapter of life laying down.

No pun intended.

I had thought about not posting any of these new developments here, but then, I thought... well.... I've already talked about the vag-cam for years, what the hell is the difference at this point.

I'm getting tired of thinking about blog posts in my head and never coming back here to type them.

So, for the handful of you still around, be forewarned, I am going UNFILTERED. I have no idea what I just meant there, but it sounded cool.

I've already blogged for 6 years here, what's 44 more?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Wheel

Somehow, I found my way to watching the VMA's on MTV last night. I had just sat down on the recliner after mulling around and cleaning the kitchen.

Man, I was tired.

No sleep from the night before after standing guard during the hurricane (we survived just fine, btw, save for a few hellish tornado warnings). I felt like my weekend had passed in a blur. The whole week for that matter.. so many natural disasters!... so little time.

Anyway, I tuned in just as Beyonce was rubbing her newly pregnant belly. Of course, I'm sure she's a nice and deserving mother-to-be, but I will freely admit that the image really hit a nerve.

As a knee jerk reaction I posted this on Twitter:

And then... I put down my iPad and cried.

It has been a long time since I had "that" feeling. It's as if the world shrank into a teacup and I could feel my body sinking into it.  It's been a long time since I registered such an intense reaction from a purely random event.  You would think several years after stopping infertility treatment, the pain would be a little less raw, but no.  It was a hell of a lot more like ripping a band-aid off an open wound at sonic speed.

I failed.

I can never redeem myself from the fact that I failed! I walked away from failure (although it felt a lot like running at times) and on days like yesterday I feel like I am barely capable of even crawling.

But worse than that I still suck at not letting my emotions overtake me when I see someone happy and pregnant.  There is no amount of self-discovery, therapy, or nachos that can deaden that insane feeling.  It's ridiculous.  Why can I not move on from this??

I am a hamster on a wheel, always chasing, running, hoping to get somewhere and ending up back where I started.

I wished so hard that this feeling would go away, and I can say with certainty, now, that it will never go away. 

And I am just so damn tired of living with it.  So fucking tired.

Beach Bummed

Well, July just flew by.

As promised I present you with photographic evidence of my spray tan. It looked great (ignore my mean face). Even coverage, no streaks, and no orange glow. I methodically used the blocker lotion on my hands, feet, knees and elbows as directed... and it was easy. Would definitely do it again, and especially for a unique occasion. For those of you who asked, the tan was via VersaSpa (not Mystic) and I chose the medium tone. I am intrigued to try the dark tone, but a little scared. Maybe on a week I know I don't have to go anywhere just in case.

So, l took my new tan on the road to Hilton Head, SC for our 10 day vacation. Didn't you wonder where I went?

We had a great time, as usual. This is the 6th year we've made the 12 hour drive. Sure, there was bitching and moaning being trapped in the car and dreaming of an exit on I-95 with a Starbucks, but the pain is worth it in the end when we see the sign that takes us to our home away from home.

David was like a boy obsessed this year. For one, he couldn't wait until he got the opportunity to go crabbing off the pier at the resort. He and hubby caught five blue crabs (catch and release), and they were in heaven. I particularly don't get the enjoyment of standing in the sun over a creek with fish smell lingering in the air, but to each is own.

Secondly, after David spent a week trying to make friends at the pool, he met a girl (insert oohs and aahs and curious eye rolling here). Is this when it starts, age 8?? Really? Goodness. Unfortunately, their courtship was short-lived.. she left the next day. However, he had a ball and I got a new friend too... her mother is the same age as myself and through conversation I found that she had her daughter via fertility treatment. We traded war stories, and it was really unexpected.  It was like meeting a mirror image of me, and so glad I got the opportunity to chat with her. Thank goodness for Facebook to stay in touch. Sadly, David is left only with a picture of himself and his new friend-  plotting how he might charter a boat to see his southern sweetie. I am still trying to help him understand that TN is not on the coast. lol.

We spent most of our days poolside, and if you follow me on Twitter, I posted a few pics along the way.

We were almost too lazy to spend time physically ON the beach. Too much preparing and effort. Plus, I admit it, I hate getting sandy.  Hate it.  However, we did take walks and collected seashells.

The thing I love about HHI is the relaxation factor. It's the only place I've vacationed where I feel truly rested.

After all the turbulence this year, I wanted that feeling more than ever. Problem is, once I shut down it's hard to boot back up. We got home on Monday and I've spent the last 48 hours walking into walls and navigating my foggy brain through the day.

The reality of being home was kind of a downer. You all know the feeling. Back to the grind, and to-do lists.

Speaking of  to-do's, I am making a doctor's appointment for myself this week. Been feeling off for the last few weeks and some oddness going on with my fingernails looking weird and my hair falling out in bunches (has been for the last 6 weeks). The hair loss is worrying me.  Really bad.  I am asking for a thyroid panel at my regular doctor when I get in, among other things. Surely, five years of shooting up hormones hasn't affected my endocrine system, right?!? I can only guess the crap my body is going to give to me now after putting it though so much over the years.

For naught of course.  Another post for another day.

So, I am back, sort of. Give me a minute and a latte and I will be ready to rock and roll.

Not a Fairytale: National Infertility Awareness Week

"You have plenty of time to try to get pregnant!"

That statement still makes me shudder and quiver with anger and regret.

This time last year, I was in a very dark place when I penned my thoughts surrounding Infertility Awareness Week. I was six months out from my last failed donor IVF cycle- THE last cycle I would ever embark on.

I wondered if I could ever capture happiness again.

Looking back, I am still mired in regret. Let's be honest here... when you are in the muck of infertility's grip it's very hard to see forward into the future or assess the past. It's hard enough to live in the present.  The difference for me between this year and last year is time.  Time and space to think about the actions I've taken on my own infertility journey with a fresh perspective.

Did I do enough? Yes, I would say I did. I exhausted every medical procedure from IUI to IVF to IVF with donor eggs. I drained my savings.  I had five miscarriages along the seven years, countless medical procedures to attempt to diagnose and "fix" what was wrong only to end with no success and a still "unexplained" diagnosis.

But I tried.

My biggest regret is that I did not educate myself early enough around the concept of fertility.

The biggest myth that still haunts me?

That I thought I had time.

...that I could put off having children to grow my career and invest in individual pursuits. That there was no expiration date on my fertility.

This myth sadly perpetuated by well-meaning (but unfounded) opinions from our own social circles that it was okay to wait to build a family.

...from the Media, that carried the same message that "older" moms are becoming the"new normal".

...even our own doctors often failed us by not stressing the time clock was indeed limited. That female fertility starts a precipitous decline after age 27. That eggs have a "shelf-life".

My body failed me... not on purpose but rather by nature.

I am the ugly side of infertility.

I am not the happy-ending to the fairytale.

But it's not all bad.

Ironically, I now consider myself a self-taught expert on the subject of fertility, or lack of it. Because the journey did not end in the way I imagined, I share my knowledge with anyone that will listen.  I bust the myths around fertility every day to at least save another from walking a similar path.  There is no sugar-coating the truth.
 
This is the only positive way I've found to channel the emotions I still have, and always will carry with me.

Fertility is NOT forever.

But we can make a difference in understanding and acknowledging it.

------------------------------------------

Understand infertility: Visit Resolve.

National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW) is April 24th through April 30th: Take Charge.

Kismet

I had a random conversation with an acquaintance recently, someone that I know to talk about general "stuff" but not ever connected on a personal level. Actually, two people but I need to explain each in its own context.

I somehow knew this person and I would see eye to eye. Kind of that "feeling" that there is more under the surface. I've become very guarded in my conversations lately, I don't know how to explain except to say that I have found a peacefulness in quiet. Maybe reflective is a better word.  What's different for me is I've spent a lot more time listening than talking to family, friends, and strangers.

So it was an odd occurrence when this person asked me, simply, "you look deep in thought, how are things?" And the conversation ebbed and flowed right to the heart. Somehow in 10 minutes we went from talking about our sons to infertility to adoption. She is me. Her life story is a reflection of shared pain and relief.  Forty minutes of talking to someone who not only "gets it" but sees (outside of the job related stress) the part of me that no one notices. She saw through the hardship and saw peace.

How cool is that??

Ironically, acquaintance number two was a mom I met at a sports practice. We sat next to each other watching our sons and started to chit chat. Her son ran over to sip a bottle of Gatorade and I immediately noticed he looked much different from her. I must have smiled a certain way, because as our two boys ran back to the field, she turned and gave the knowing look. For those in the ALI community you get it too... she knew. "Are you an adoptive Mom?"

The answer, "well, not yet..." .. and the conversation ensued.  I smiled driving home the two miles from there to here.

There is goodness in quiet.

And I am thankful that the universe knows it too.

Avoidance Theory

I have had a recurring dream over many years. In my dream I am in my childhood home and feeling a sense of dread. I never really understand the "why" of the situation, I just seem to land mid-stream into this nightmare of sorts. Whatever is spooking me sends me into utter panic, running from room to room, locking each exterior door and running to the next.

And then, standing still.

So still I can hear my own breath and it sounds so loud in my head that I am sure whomever is on the other side of the door can hear me as plain as day.

I spent some time recently on one of those "dream" websites. You know, the ones that define objects and common dream themes. Apparently, my locked door dream is a symbol of avoidance and much of the interpretation has a lot to do with whether you are on the locked side of the door. Locked side = shutting ones self off from someone/something.

It dawned on me that I have developed an avoidance of many things over the last few years. Whether my mood is up or down I still practice the art of avoidance.

I guess I've always been a little withdrawn. Even in earlier years I was always comfortable with people and experiences- having anxiety initially, but once I warmed up I was outgoing and gregarious. I always had that shy girl inside me, but I was 60/40. Sixty percent outgoing, forty percent reserved.

Infertility was the fuel on the fire that turned that ratio upside down. Now I am more 40/60, maybe even 30/70. I find it really hard, even with therapy, to be that person I was. I have great days where I see the light, and dark days (like today) where all I feel is grief and loneliness.  The only place I feel grounded is here, at home, in the company of S. and David.  The outside world is a constant source of stress and unfamiliarity.

I still am trying to appreciate myself as a new and improved person (with some extra wisdom and compassion) but I've developed some bad habits that are slowly changing me and not always for the better.

I know my triggers, and spend far too much time avoiding them:

• Arriving on-time exactly to David's school events- it reduces the amount of time I have to mingle with the happy moms.
• Buying baby wipes at my local warehouse store- to avoid trolling down a baby aisle in a regular store.
• Unopened magazines that I just chuck in the trash- (backstory) I had subscribed to a popular parenting magazine for school-aged kids but won't read it after I browsed a few only to realize 70% of the content was baby-related.
• I've gone from that person...  a person who doesn't hide a thing about the ups and downs of life to a person that finds it easier to small talk through an entire conversation and engage the fake smile just to avoid and move on.
• Even my Google Reader doesn't go unscathed. I have many friends I've met online over the years, and although I follow and read all their posts, often I feel like I can't comment (or don't want to because I feel like I don't belong). 

It has been so very, very hard.

As many times that I give myself a pat on the back for meeting a situation head-on, there are a million more instances where I tend to fade into the background and avoid feeling... well...

...feeling anything.

The old adage, "You reap what you sow..." has never been more true that where I am today.

I am to blame for the state I am in.  Just me.

And that truth is becoming very hard to avoid.

Monsters Large and small

Since we are swiftly approaching All Hallows Eve, it seems like an appropriate time to talk monsters.

of the green-eyed variety and my monster friend who takes up residence in my closet.

You remember him, right?

On, Internets, it's been a trying month.

First the backache from hell (which is still lurking around), and my husband's crappy job situation, and then... well, I'll explain.

You all know I don't blog about work, and there is a reason I don't. Working for such a large international company has its perks, but the downside is everyone knows someone who works for THE Company, and then there's that pesky little non-disclosure I sign every year that says I will not reveal myself on the Internet or social networking dissing THE Company.

Needing the income and all, I oblige.

But OH, how it is drama-filled. Let's just say I turned down a major (for sure) promotion in my area for a POSSIBLE new job in another area of THE Company which at the time I had only just started interviewing for.... I didn't even know (still don't) if I have the new job... but the risk-taker in me said...

Oh, what the hell! Nothing like jumping into the unknown without a safety net! And now that I have jumped I feel equal parts exhilarated and scared that I burned a bridge I can never go back over.

Then that unruly monster appeared in my head a few nights ago, and said "ARE YOU F'ING crazy woman?? You just turned down a sure thing for a 50/50 shot!!?"

And I've been beating that monster back into that damn closet ever since.

I still can't believe I summoned the bravery to do it, but I still think I did the right thing.. even if everyone else does not.

====================

Speaking of monsters, I have a sorta green-eyed rant about my dear celebrity co-infertile, Celine Dion.

I am happy she gave birth to her twins. I am happy she emerged on the other side with "her dream" after she went through so much.

HOWEVER.

I am a bit jealous and bitter. Why? Well, for the obvious reasons, but more so that MONEY played a major role in her "success". She has bucks, LOTS of them, and she never once had to refinance her only home and drive her credit cards sky high to pay for infertility treatment.

So many of us have invested our entire savings in an endeavor that is a crap shoot, risking bankruptcy (and therefore often marriages and sanity) to achieve our dream.

Did I go to THE BEST clinic for my treatment? No, I couldn't afford it.

Would I have kept going if I had unlimited funds? YES.

And that makes me sad. For me and for all of my sisters who, like me, had to give up treatment because of something as simple as a lack of funds.

Yes, Celine, you are VERY privileged.

====================

aaaah, the world is complicated.

Boo.

Five

It's hard to take in a day like today being where I am in my life right now. This is the first time I've posted on this day as a woman that failed infertility treatment.

Past tense.

I am a face of recurrent pregnancy loss. I lost five opportunities to have more joy around our dinner table. Five dreams that will never come true. Each taking a little part of me with them.

Please keep those you love close to you today, and imagine your life if they weren't here.

And hold them closer...

Call me Suzy

Back in the day, when I was blissfully unaware that bad things can happen to good people, I wandered throughout life with rose-colored glasses.

Yep, long ago I really was Miss Suzy Sunshine.

The nice thing about living that way is that life (generally) seems to be just full of excitement and wonder, and pressure? almost minimal or non-existent. Failures were just momentary bumps in the road. The idea "there's always a next time" really seemed plausible and in fact, there always was a "next time" right around the corner.

And, with just the right amount of drive and stick-to-it-tiveness, anything was achievable.

And then I grew up.

Scratch that.

I got old.

There's something about entering your 40's that slams the brakes on all of that sunshine. And it has nothing to do with life changing or even the people around us... it has everything to do with the change in ourselves.

Infertility gave me a reason to be bitter, and well, I just took it and ran. Instead of looking at the goodness in my life, all I could see was...

nothing.

Those damn rose-colored glasses turned to grey, and a shitty shade of grey at that. At times, it dimmed e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.  I was damn-near blind.

Suddenly, in my blindness, I became the self-appointed purveyor of fairness. I was insulted that life dealt me a bad hand, and there was (is?) no remedy for that. If you are a family of 4+ you were a target of my jealousy. If you were a family of 4+ and had the nerve to complain about ANYTHING going on in your life you were a target of my anger. If you took pity on my story and made an ass-backwards remark to me in public to belittle what I experienced or felt? well...

let's just say I prayed the karma police would catch you before I did.

And then I decided one day that I just couldn't carry the anger around anymore. I grew tired of putting myself in a box and labeling it "BREAKABLE: Please Don't Touch." Every day I get a little better. Let's face it, I'll never go back to the person I once was, but I will develop into a different and better version of me.  Eventually.

It's been more than a year since my failed donor egg cycle. When I think back to the feelings of failure then, it saddens me. It DID feel like the world was tipping over. It DID feel like I was never, ever going to heal. I DID feel like a desperate junkie, and when the treatments ended... hell, I felt like I would end too.

But I didn't.

And I am still here.

And I've given up my karma police badge. I've come to terms that good and bad happens every day to everyone. It's not about me being singled out.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again... this journey gave me a gift I would never ever return...

Compassion.

And here I thought I got nothing... 
guess I need to get a new pair of glasses.

Signed,
Miss Suzy Partly Cloudy Sunny

Failure is not an option

I was extremely efficient last week.

Remember that list of a million things I talked about? I was knocking them off one by one.

Here's the thing about lists that is no surprise to anyone- after one list is done another one takes its place. I used to be a woman of few lists. I was so adept at getting crap done, by the time I sat down to make a list I didn't need to write it down.

Then, over the last few years, I started to morph into a person with multiple lists and post-it notes. It is maddening. Especially when I know I used to be good at it.

I was watching a show on cable not long ago... well, let me digress for a little background... I upgraded my cable at home and now I get e-v-e-r-y channel on earth- even all the pay channels (for a promotional period of course). So when I am wide awake and stressed at night I watch TV, specifically movies and reruns of "Top Chef" and "Say Yes to the Dress"... ummm, yeah...don't ask about that second one. I got married 15 years ago and yet I still love looking at wedding dresses. Don't judge me.

Anyway..I had been watching a movie (can't remember which) and one of the lines from a character in it resonated with me:

"I don't try anymore, because I am afraid. It is much easier to not try at all. If I don't bother, I don't have to worry about being a failure."

Boom.

It was as if a giant arrow virtually appeared above my head pointing down at me... THIS IS YOU STUPID.

...Well, damn! No wonder I am procrastinating lately. It was as if that one line was written expressly to me.

(mental note, mention this to Dr. Anne)

The next day I was wandering around the house and looked at projects that were unfinished or never started at all. And it dawned on me that I am my own roadblock to ever being that person from years ago that went missing during infertility treatment. I am letting my failures beat me every single day.  Still.

I won't try because I am afraid. Every friggin' day.

Therefore, nothing gets done. And the list grows longer.  And I get mad at myself.

The cycle is never-ending.

Hell, I have a project (related to my biggest failure) that I am not even blogging about here. Why? Because if I commit to it here, in THIS place, it's as if I am setting myself up to fail.

Finally, it all becomes clear. The tragic part?  My greatest relief, writing, has been a victim of my own crazy neuroses. Somehow I have grown to expect that bad luck is hiding in the shadows, just lurking and waiting to jump out and tear my heart to pieces.

The monster that I blogged about during my egg donor cycle has exacted its final blow.

It seems that I myself have become the monster I always dreaded.

How's that for self-realization???

I had a dream last night, like many of the ones before it, but this one was different. In this dream I wasn't running or hiding. I was happy. A person I've never met told me a secret, and it was the best news ever. It felt real. I woke up feeling elated. Positive, and with new purpose. Determined to make my dream a reality.

If I can change, I can stop making lists and start focusing on today.

Perhaps I can escape the sense that I am a victim, and start acting victorious.

It's a tall order, but something I need to do.

I'm adding it to my list, pronto.

What If

What if...

I can never be happy again?

Before the days of infertility, there were great days, excitement, opportunity, blue skies, and hope.

Today I am mired in a web of not-so-great days, anger, hopelessness, and jealousy.

It has been 6 months since I ended infertility treatment for good. That sounds a little freeing saying that. Because until recently, I didn't know if I was REALLY done, or just standing at the crossroads biding my time. But I AM... it seems.

I am done.

Five years later, five miscarriages later, I wake up in the morning with the same thought, each and every day... just around the time I am staring into a mirror and putting on my makeup...

"Is this sadness ever going to leave me?"

I stare at the circles under my eyes that I never had before. I make peace with the fact that my face has aged ten years in five. I put down my mascara and walk into the third bedroom upstairs with an empty crib. The crib now better served as a storage space for junk. Just like my body.

Junk.

I navigate though the work day as my island of peace. A  place where I can work, and work, and work and completely avoid personal conversations. It's all business. I can put on a good face almost as if I did not have a care in the world. That, is, until a pregnancy announcement from a co-worker sets me over the edge...

I attend school functions with my only son. My "only". I listen to the Moms with half an ear because I am not interested in the conversations of fitting in manicures between carpooling their multitudes of children.  I don't want to see the look of pity on their faces when I answer "that" question...  "do you have any more children?"

My son asks why he doesn't have a brother or sister. On a regular basis. I try very hard to explain the truth that an (almost) seven year old would understand.

It kills me a little more each time I say it.

I wonder if I can ever get back to that place before I became one of the millions of women affected by infertility.

I wonder if any of us will truly recover from the disappointment that plagues us. Even the lucky few that conquer the beast are never really the same.

Never the same.

I WANT to be happy again. I want to lie down at the end of a great day with that fuzzy feeling that all is right with the world.  I still can build my family in other ways.  Or, I can choose not to.  The reality is infertility cannot be the sum and total of me, or my decisions.  It cannot define any of us.

I can choose how to move on from this.

I want to enjoy life. I want to use what I learned through my experience to help others.

The aftermath cannot dictate that the journey was pointless.
------------------------------------------

Understand infertility: Visit Resolve.

National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW) is April 24th through May 1st: Take Charge.

Want to read about others "What if's?":  Connect @ Project IF.

I feel.... fine?

Smile tho’ your heart is aching,

Smile even tho’ it’s breaking,

When there are clouds in the sky

You’ll get by,

If you smile

thro’ your fear and sorrow,

Smile and maybe tomorrow,

You’ll see the sun come shin-ing thro’ for you

Light up your face with gladness,

Hide ev-’ry trace of sadness,

Al -’tho a tear may be ever so near,

That’s the time,

You must keep on trying,

Smile, what’s the use of crying,

You’ll find that life is still worth-while,

If you just smile
Music Composed by Charlie Chaplin, Recorded by Nat “King” Cole on Capital Records.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I've been in a bit of a weird place lately. I think a lot has to do with the fact that my life is very different now than it has been for the last 5 years.

Last week, while sitting in the big comfy chair at my therapist's office, she asked me a very simple question. "How are you feeling?"

You know, it's crazy, but no one in real life asks me that question. And if they do, it's more like "How are you?" like in the casual conversation kind of way. You know, when you are SUPPOSED to say, "Fine" or "Good", but no one REALLY wants the truth, or wants to hear a 10 minute dissertation to the question...

My answer to her, "depends on the day..." and isn't that really the truth for everyone?

The difference for me is I feel like my days are jammed with work, and schedules, and cooking, and homework with David, and chores, and a multitude of activities which serves other people, but not me.

I feel empty.

"Who else do you talk about your daily struggles with besides your husband?"

To which I replied, "well, lately.... no one really."

And then the conversation flowed to that one topic that bugs the shit out of me. The fact that other people are living their lives, happy and engaged, and most of them... don't have a clue what it's like to be on the dark side.

I truly cannot bear the "Mommy" thing. The school parties, the events where the Moms gather around and complain about not having time to sleep or get their nails done. The ones that I. MUST. HAVE. totally FAKE conversations with. On the basketball court, in the neighborhood, family/friend events, parties, and the grocery store. It's like the world is turning without me because I have no interest in the "chatter" between Moms.

For me, I exist between two worlds. One foot in the Mom world, and the other foot in the non-Mom world.

I don't quite fit in either of them.

Mel wrote a great post yesterday about putting on "the smile". The one that shields you from the bullets other people hurl at you that can break your heart. The one resource that we infertiles have to safeguard ourselves from making a scene crying in the grocery store when we meet an old friend who has been! pregnant! 4! times! by accident! omg!

The "smile" is something I carry with me every time I walk out of the door.  And lately, it's been getting harder and harder to not show the crack in my smile.  And, it's plain EXHAUSTING.

So where does that leave me? Well, according to therapist Anne, I need to make an effort to start having real-life interaction with like-minded individuals. Hey, not that you on-line buddies aren't the bees knees! It's just I really don't have a that person IRL that I can commisserate and share these dark feelings with. Someone who has first-hand experience with infertility in the way I have. Where they did not succeed and stopped treatment. Or stopped and pursued adoption.  Anne thinks I should put out feelers for a support group in my area.

Because, you know, that's a lot less desperate than standing in line at Starbucks with a shirt that reads... 

(Are YOU an infertile?  Have you failed where others always SUCCEED?  Are you a fertility clinic dropout?  Please have coffee with me and let's DISCUSS!)

When I leave my session with Anne, I always feel good. And most of that is because she did walk almost the same path as I did. She defines infertility as a "life crisis" and draws parallels between infertility and going through any other serious illness. The difference? Infertilty is not terminal. Which in her opinion, makes it all the worse since you can never-ever-ever escape it. The outcomes are different, but it is something we will forever carry to our deaths.

Peachy, huh?

Disorderly

This past Monday was quite a day. I should have known it would be a fitting beginning to another step forward in the healing process. I woke up to the windows rattling, and rain pelting against the glass. It was the kind of day best served not opening your eyes at all, but rather a day where you pull the covers up over your head and sleep in.

I returned from driving David to the bus stop. Soaking wet... umbrellas aren't very handy when 50 MPH winds are mocking you. After the garage door was closed, the wind whistled between the open gaps and made an eerie sound. I fully expected the house to lift into the air and be whisked to The Emerald City. Then, a brief roll of thunder- weird and unexpected on a January day in NJ. As I drove to meet Anne, (not her real name) my therapist, it was raining buckets.

Lovely.

It was a mostly one-sided conversation... her getting to know me. When she did speak, it was kind, and deliberate. After she got the big picture as to why I ended up in her office, she stopped and said... "I want you to know I do understand your feelings. I myself experienced primary infertility, and after 7 years of heartache I stopped treatment and I adopted my little girl a few years ago."

Pin drop.

and then, a big sigh of relief swelled up in my body.

This is someone who understands, who "gets it" AND can help me.

I didn't even wince writing out a check at the end of the session. Although it does feel a little weird to be PAYING to talk to someone, and even weirder trying to sum up my failures in 45 minutes.

Curiously, when she gave me my receipt on the way out I noticed it had a field for my insurance company (NOTE to self- figure out if I can get this covered) which had a hand-written note:

Diagnosis: Adjustment Disorder



For five years, I have been "unexplained" in the realm of infertility. Talk about an open-ended diagnosis. It mocks you. It provides no explanation other than the unexplained. I am my own mystery. We will sooner find truth to the existence of aliens in space before we ever find out what happened to me.

Forcing that part to the side and looking at that new text left me with a thought...

If I am having trouble adjusting to my new life, then that certainly means that there will be a time when I can make peace with it and not carry the label to my grave.

This part of my healing is temporary and doesn't define me.

At the end of the day, I am okay with that.

Live to tell the story

A few weeks ago, I was channel surfing on TV and stopped at a show I wouldn't ever normally watch... one of those religious based shows best suited for middle-of-the-night viewing.

Don't get me wrong... I've got nothing against people who love to shout about their religion.  In fact, I admire the passion exuded from someone who truly "believes" in something. I just find these types of shows a little creepy.

So I paused on this particular show really just to reach for my glass of water, and I started to listen to a woman talking about her life. She had been on the fast track in the entertainment industry in her twenties and got mixed up in "the lifestyle"- that one of hedonism and excess. I found her personality to be likeable, and she was very well-spoken, so I continued to listen.

Of course, you know where this is leading- she hit rock bottom and was incarcerated. You would think that would be enough to shake the cobwebs from anyone's life, but no... she continued to act out in jail and spent many years in solitary because of her bad behavior.

One day, she was allowed to obtain a book, and, of course it was The Bible. And then the story becomes predictable: she found God and changed her life, as well as many of the other inmates she bunked with.

The thing I found interesting, though, was how she interpreted the Bible as if it was meant as a direct message to her. I'm not an expert on religious text, but I want to say she likened her incarceration to the incarceration (and re-education) of the Isrealites. And, in that, she began to think that God delivered his message to her in this manner because there was no other way to get her to LISTEN. As he did with the Isrealites, he had to resort to extreme measures to get his point across to her.

Jail=vehicle to deliver message=God=love=PURPOSE

She went on to talk about her purpose in life. How clear it is now. How she can assist others in finding their own purpose. The great things she's done with her life since then. Letting go of the past and forging a new road to contentment.

And I thought only fertile women made me jealous!

It got me to thinking. What is our individual purpose? How do ordinary people find it? Do you really have to hit rock bottom to get the "wake up" call, or is there another way to enlightenment?

I think it's rather easy to hit rock bottom and use religion as the vehicle to chart your course to a better place. After all, it's JAIL for pete's sake. It's a place where you start with nothing, so of course it's easier to start a new path or a dream when you are stripped down to nothing.

I do find that when I meet people, the most interesting are the ones with a story to tell. Overcoming adversity, living through tragedy...who doesn't love a little inspiration?

To be honest, more than once I've had random people praise me for my steadfast commitment to trudging though infertility hell, much like how I feel admiration for that woman. The difference is I am still in the muck. I am like a drunkard navigating a straight line on the pavement at a DUI checkpoint. I sway, I stutter, and limp my way down the line. My path is dimly lit.

I wish I had the same conviction as that woman on TV. I am too jaded to put all of my eggs in the basket of religion. Admittedly, I identify myself as "somewhat" religious in that I do believe in God and attend church, but I find it very difficult to accept religion as the answer to all my questions. I'm too busy poking holes in theories and playing the critic.  That's part of the old me I still have in spades.

I guess this means I'm probably not susecptible to falling into something really radical like a cult.

Well, that's a good thing, right?

Fix Me

If you thought the last post was a bit snarky, it was meant to be. I won't lie and say I had a wonderful New Years Eve. It was wonderful in that I spent it with the people I love the most, but the thought of another year at an end and no closer to completing my family was very, very sad. I was in a horrible mood. The whole day felt like walking The Green Mile... knowing that the new year was going to start no matter how much I kicked and screamed. There was no stopping it.

As Dick Clark kissed his sweet wife at midnight I blurted out "This year sucked!" and I proceeded to cry. A hug from S. was the only thing that mildly comforted me. Well, that and a couple of shots.

I woke up on New Years Day, still in a mood... reasoning with myself that there is much more to life than this ONE THING. This I know. I know it as certain as the blue sky, but yet it often feels like there is no room for any other emotion. All I can think about is the horrible luck I've endured, five dead babies and so many failures. Failing where others succeed without trying.

The holiday was a lot of reflection. A lot of hard thinking. I came to the conclusion that I must make it a priority to offload the the hurt, the anger, the disappointment. It's eating me up inside, and when I look in the mirror, I see only a broken woman. How could that not affect the relationships around me? I just cannot live like this.

My husband and my son deserve a wife and mother who are PRESENT. Not hiding in the house and eating bon-bons.

How do I get out of this place when it took so long to get here? It's been so long, I don't remember the path back. All I see is a thick forest with goblins hiding behind trees and dark corners I dare not walk into. The mist is suffocating. There is only a glimmer of sky. The ground feels like quicksand... each step I take seems to get harder and harder to lift my feet.

I said I wouldn't make any resolutions, but in the back of my mind I know that is not true.

I resolve to fix me.

The first step (the hardest) is admitting defeat.

Infertility, you win. I lose. I'm tired of your shit. Go do the happy dance and impregnate everyone else on earth but me. Leave me as the last piece of gum on your shoe.

Just...............leave me.

Step two is a big one, consulting a professional. The one I am most scared of because it means I need to reach out to someone else to do what I can't by myself.

There is so much else to do in order to free myself from the issues that have spun out of control because of my infertility. There's so much wrong right now I can't think about it en masse otherwise it will become overwhelming.

So for now, this is where I start.

This is my new path.

Which way to the exit?

I promised myself that I wouldn't obsess about things until at least after the holiday.

But I am a fool. I don't have that kind of self-control.

I've been poking around. Researching. Contemplating. Reading your feedback. Hanging out on websites, making phone calls to big clinics and adoption agencies.

I had my follow-up appointment with my RE, and well, it was somewhat pleasant and horrifying at the same time. Pleasant in that, I really like the team of doctors there. They've never not provided an answer when I ask a direct question. They have hearts, and are genuinely interested in wanting me to succeed.

We talked about the FET. Dr. Nerd opened my file and we went through every embryology report. We talked about how the donor may have not been the best choice (hindsight being 20/20). I gave feedback on what I liked/disliked about their donor program. We talked options for the future. I walked out with closure, sort of, and that's about it.

The reality is my chances of succeeding are still high if I were to cycle again with another donor... no matter where I cycle.

The bigger reality staring me in the face is that we are tapped out of cash. I could want this more than anything, but there's a point where I need to take into account "the rest of our lives". I can't put our family in financial ruin chasing a dream. There's still a lot of living to do.

Yes, if a wad of money appeared out of nowhere, or embryos miraculously dropped in my lap I would jump on it. But for now, dreaming is just that... dreaming.

Unbeknownst to me my decision has sort of lingering here all along.

I would have loved to make a dramatic exit out of the land of infertility, emerge vicoriously, flipping the middle finger on my way out....but this story ends quietly for now.

Not necessarily closing the book, just bookmarking it if I ever choose to return.

Close, but no cigar...

I've been thinking about my miscarriages.

Well, the loss is always on my mind... but I am thinking lately from a different perspective. I've come to the conclusion that the drive to keep going is due, in part, of almost succeeding.

Think about this. If you play the lottery, and you spend $10 on one of those mega jackpots and LOSE, it's easy to just walk away thinking "maybe next time". You might play every week, but the money lost is secondary.

So, continuing with this analogy... what if you were a finalist in a huge giveaway, and you had a 1 in 4 chance of winning the jackpot. And then maybe the pool is whittled down to JUST you and someone else. You have a 50% chance of winning.

And you lose.

Does it hurt more than that 1:1,000,000 chance? Yeah, it does.

To come SO CLOSE and lose? It's a blow to the psyche.

Now, think of yourself having those great odds in the second scenario, and picture yourself losing five times in a row.

It's no wonder I'm screwed up.

I mentioned that S. and I are weighing options. Well, truth be told we had maybe two conversations about it and then decided to wait until after the holiday to get down to business. I am damn tired of of all this ruining the last 4 Christmases. Sick of it.

In fact, I was scheduled to have the follow-up appointment with the RE today from my failed FET. I rescheduled to next week simply because I don't want to talk about it today. Nurse T basically told me that my insanely poor thaw was a first for their clinic. That my bad luck was a random occurance that never happened before IN THE HISTORY OF THE CLINIC. I decided to make the consult with Dr. Nerd and lay it out on the line. Just not today.

Drilling it down:

Another Donor Cycle
We are all cash now. No insurance. If I am crazy enough to lay down a wad of cash, I'm going to do it at a better clinic. I've done some inital research, and am pondering a couple clinics within driving distance from Jersey. One intriguing option exists at Shady Grov.e in the DC area. If you cycled there (especially if you did the Donor program) I want to hear from you. Likewise, if you cycled at IVF.NJ.

Adoption
This is not an alternative to Option #1, in fact, we are leaning heavily this way at the moment. I researched the hell out of the International route about a year ago, and let's face it... there's nothing going on there. Even for the countries we qualify for, the wait is excruciatingly LONG.    I can't do that.

Domestic adoption is something we never really explored in-depth, but we intend to dive in. There are some local agencies I've heard good things about... but if you have a recommedation... PLEASE e-mail me!

Embryo Adoption
This is the least costly of the options, but considering my last disaster of an FET, I am not hyped up about this at all. Too much legal crap and money for a low odds of it working.
__________

Of course- our last path is stopping treatment, halting the bleeding out of money, and hanging up our hat. It is reality now, and as much as I wish it wasn't... it may be our final decision to escape the infertility hamster wheel for good.

So much to ponder...  so much.

Got any lottery tickets??

Gratitude

I have a lot to say, but just don't have the energy to put it into words right now.  That day is coming soon though...  just not today.   Don't worry, I'm not abandoning my blog.  Just waiting for the inspiration to move me.

I am writing today to offer up a heartfelt "thank you" to my brother and sister-in-law. Yesterday was a special day for our families. My brand new niece was baptized yesterday, and S. and I were the Godparents. You might be thinking that it was a bittersweet day for S. and I under the circumstances, but you couldn't be more wrong.

It was, in fact, the most beautiful day.... and I found myself smiling ear to ear all the way through it. It means the world to me that we were able to be active participants in such an important milestone.

Thank you K.   Thank you for your unwaivering support and always holding out your hand to me. It has not been easy to be related to me.  I have far too much baggage, and most sane people would have given up on me by now.  My self-preservation mode has often found me isolating myself, and there are such rare moments when I don't feel like the stranger looking from the outside in.  You have always managed to make me feel included and wanted, and never a stranger.  That is a feat unto itself.

Having a day like yesterday makes me feel human again. It was the closest I've felt to being "me" again in a long time.

It was the best day.

Thank you.