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

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.

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??

The last chapter...

For the inquiring minds: I tested this morning. I stared back at nothing. Not even a whisper of a line.

Please, do not tell me it's too early. It's not.

So this is what it feels like to really fail at something. To exhaust every path, to endure every last available technology.  To pump myself full of chemicals that have god knows what affect down the road.

Almost five years of misery. Five years of loss. Five years of chasing a dream only to come up empty.

Empty in mind, body, spirit, and finances.

No next step. No back up plan to the back up plan.

Just sadness, regret, and unbearable pain.

Compassion

October 15th is like a ticking time bomb for me. It's a reminder that I am still in the trenches of infertility and loss.  I will always be no matter where my journey ends.

I've blogged on this day over the years, and each time I do... I feel emptiness reflecting back on such sorrow.  For the first time since the start of my infertility journey in 2005, I did not experience a pregnancy loss in the last year.  In fact, I haven't even had a pregnancy since February 2008. 

The RPL'er looking for one good egg now can't even get pregnant with a good egg.

How rich in irony that is.

Please take some time today to consider that while some of us are very much "out of the infertility closet" (bloggers, anyway) that many women do not have a place like this to vent, and cry, and commisserate with others.

Show compassion. 

Listen.

Sometimes the ugliest scars on a person who has experienced loss are not visible.  Sometimes they are hidden very well. 

It does not mean they don't exist.

Peace today to all of my sisters-in-loss,

Hope Floats

Hope and I... we've had a very twisted relationship.

I remember back to the days when I thought I would always be the lucky one. I never "hoped" for anything really... I just "expected".

In fact, if we are being brutally honest, when I look back on my life so far, I've had a bit of an easy ride. I took much for granted. And along the way, I was able to mow down any roadblock standing between me and any goal I set out to do.

Done and done. Everything had a fix.

I distinctly remember (after my 2nd miscarriage) having a total meltdown. How dare I be denied anything? Me? Are you kidding me??

I would shake my fist in the air and challenge the universe to stop me from succeeding.

[Picture Scarlett O'Hara... "As God is my witness... I will
never be (barren?) again!" Ok, I fudged the barren part.]

But you know what? The universe still kept on slinging sh!t at me.

Which made me even more angry. The anger spilled over into everything I touched.

And then, something changed.

I became a weepy, introspective vision of my former self. I took off the battle gear and laid down my weapon.

I gave up.

Or so I thought.

I started hoping instead of fighting. I lit candles and prayed. I begged. I bought countless boxes of tissues and cried more than I ever have in my life. I made plans and then "hoped" they would work. I never assumed anything ever again.

With S. we set a plan. Do this, then that. And if we fail, then this. And then if that doesn't work resort to Plan X,Y,Z. And then...

..and then?

So, seriously... when people outside of this blog hear my sob story of five miscarriages and failure... often they will comment about the strength I have to keep moving forward. And I hate that, because I don't see myself as strong. Resilient? maybe. Strong? far from it.

At the root of it, I've held on to Hope. It's been the ONLY THING that has gotten me from point A to point B. The only thread of consistency throughout all these years. And then it dawned on me...

Hope is strength in disguise. Just not as obvious.

So instead of wielding an ax ready to fight, I sit here at my desk holding onto Hope.

Even after everything...

6dp5dt

I bet you hurriedly clicked over to this post thinking...

"OMG, has she tested yet??"

and the answer is NO.

To further disappoint my readers/friends/family and Peeveme, I've made a decision to not buy any pee sticks at all. I'm not even tempted.

Really.

Many of you have been commenting here and in e-mail saying how "disciplined" I am, and let me tell you... far from it. The operative word is FEAR.

That's right folks, FEAR. I am too afraid to test. If you know my history, you might understand. Six pregnancies, five miscarriages. For me, a BFP is merely the first step in what I like to affectionately call the "Pregnancy Obstacle Course from Hell", fraught with roadblocks, betas that look great but NOT!, and ultrasounds that feel like walking The Green Mile (for my Stephen King fans).

Symptoms? Yep, the are still here. Saturday was kind of a lull, but yesterday and today they are back. The trifecta: Cramping, low back pain, sore boo.bs

Strangely, if I weren't on enough meds to choke a cow, I would say.. "Yep! This is it." However I do know that progesterone can mock every pg symptom in the book.

I miss the days when I could get pregnant on my own... at least I knew when I was pregnant even before I reached for the pee stick. Yes, it's the upside of being pregnant so many times. I know too much for my own damn good.

I will give you one nugget of info that weighs on my mind. The feelings and symptoms I have this time (as compared to the failed IVF attempt last summer) are completely different... even taking the meds into consideration. What it means? I don't know.

Take from it what you will.

For my blogging friends that DO test before beta day, I salute you. You are a brave bunch.

I am a wuss.

National Infertility Awareness Week

So how is it that I almost missed National Infertility Awareness week?

Oh yeah, they moved it. Now I can forgive myself.

I've had a lot to say over the years each time this week rolls around. Hell, pretty much any week of the year.

Instead of writing a long post to summarize why this week is so important to so many of us, I encourage you to read my friend Cecily's post about it.

She sums up every reason why it sucks to be infertile. And how each of us will always carry it with us, no matter when or how our journeys end.

Getting what we deserve

I mentioned before that I am feeling rather challenged lately with the thought that someone omnipotent is in charge of my destiny. With some of the misfortune we've had (S. and I) around fertility, we hear this comment a lot... "There is a reason for everything." As if to say, "God has planned for you to be tortured in your quest for another child, but don't worry... He has his reasons and you aren't supposed to know them."

I really have tried to reconcile my feelings around this, but I am just not making the connection anymore.

I'm sort of having a falling out with my faith.

You see, the part that troubles me the most is an irrational fear that there is a spiritual pecking order. And somehow, I rate lower than a pregnant crack whore.

Ok, that's a bit much, but I used those words to make the example clear.

I have to admit, I just can't believe that something with a higher power would put anyone through such hardship in trying to achieve such an altruistic goal.

Why are there so many women who break their backs to have even ONE child denied?
Why are those of us wanting to expand our family denied?
Why would a child be taken from the earth from a loving family?

Is this the will of a higher power? Really??

I can't believe that. Not when there are teens having unplanned pregnancies. Not when babies are born to parents that have no regard for their children's safety or welfare. Not when every person I meet has "ooops!" babies and especially when they lament their fertile state on top of it.

I don't think that there is a rhyme or reason to anything anymore. It is simply a roll of the dice. Some people hit the jackpot... others end up penniless.

Because if there really was a contest for "Most Deserving Parent" myself and every. single. one. of my infertile blogging friends would get what they wish for.

You HAD to pick a fight, didn't you?

First it was the Octuplet story that got my blood a'boilin. Although I didn't post about it here, most of you know how I felt about that circus via comments to others blogs. That doctor should have his license pulled, and the media given a slap on the hand for their reporting of the story. I didn't feel so much anger for Ms. Suleman, but rather feeling angry that others didn't put the breaks on her ill-conceived (no pun intended) plans.

But now.

Oh, hold me back. I just finished reading a post on Mom Logic that sent me over the edge. In fact, it so made me angry that I had to sleep on this post otherwise you all would be trying to decipher my comments between a litany of four-letter words. Not to say I won't use a few here, so be forewarned...

GINA (guest blogger), bless her heart, is probably the meanest Pro-Life advocate to ever walk the earth.

I respect women's right to choose, but I have little tolerance for pro-choicers
who expect sympathy when they have a miscarriage.

Oh really, Gina?

If you believe that pregnancy doesn't produce a baby until some magic
number (13 weeks? 20 weeks? 40?), then you must also agree that it's ridiculous
to break down in hysterics, set up a memorial website for your "angel," and seek
out a grief counselor when you start bleeding in your first trimester. After
all, you're simply talking about the loss of a conglomeration of microscopic
cells, right?! That's hardly something to cry about.

Oh, no, please SAY YOU DID NOT GO THERE Gina...

Advocate all you want, but don't come crying to me when your hypocrisy hits
you like a ton of bricks. If you are going to defend the right to abort babies,
you don't have the right to be upset when yours dies.

Ok, now I'm pissed. Are you fucking saying that I deserved five miscarriages????

First, before I go all nuclear on Gina's ass... let me say a few things so you all know where I am coming from:

I am Pro-Choice. I do not dislike people who are Pro-Life. In fact, I have respect for anyone who can stand by a belief. Our views are uniquely our own, and we have the right to defend them.

However.... BEING Pro-Choice DOES NOT mean someone is PRO-ABORTION!

Pro-Choice means I don't want the government in my fucking business. It has nothing to do with abortion. Two totally different things, Gina.

Gina, have you ever had a loss? Something tells me that you haven't. It is a soul-crushing event. And regardless of political views, I have empathy and compassion for ANYONE that experiences a loss. The fact that you DON'T tells me one thing... you are a very misguided and evil woman. Actually, you might even be a man for all I know. I just can't fathom someone writing such bullshit.

And, Mom Logic, despite your "disclaimer" at the beginning of the post, I am disappointed in you as a website. Clearly, there is a line where free speech crosses into hurtful vitriol. Something tells me that Gina being let loose is merely a tactic for page hits. Shameful.

Shameful!

Last, Gina, a few parting words... You may think my views are wrong, but at the heart of it, I am Mom and an Infertile. I have a living, beautiful son. I have had FIVE dead babies, each which I mourned and cried for. I have compassion. Therefore, I respectfully disagree with your rant, and hope that YOU NEVER experience a loss. Maybe then you will change your tune and not be so goddamn ignorant.

Gina, you have taken on a portion of the Internet that is much more unforgiving than I.

You better be ready for the backlash. You'll finally get your 15 minutes of fame I know you've been waiting for all your life.

And it ain't gonna be pretty.

What you don't know...

So, it's almost been a year since the last failed pregnancy. The "almost" perfect one that ended too soon.

The weird thing is even though I am now in Year Four of this huge mess, this is the longest time I've gone without being pregnant.

That seems a little odd saying that. In fact, I giggle a bit because at first glance seeing that sentence you might think I was Miche.lle Dugga.r. But you would be wrong. Because none of my last five babies were born alive.

Granted, for the last 3 months, we've guarded against a "spontaneous" conception (for you fertile types, that's how the other 99% of the world gets pregnant). The last thing I need is another pregnancy with my broken eggs.

Lying in bed last night, I realized that I can only remember the dates of the first and the last miscarriage. I am envious that my fellow sisters-in-loss can remember each anniversary of each positive HPT, each loss, and each unfulfilled due date.

I cannot.

I remember the first. It was on a Saturday in April. I was watching the "Chronicle.s of Nar.nia" on DVD with my husband and D. I was 11 weeks pregnant. By Sunday, I was not. I should have been due on my husband's birthday. I had just turned 38 years old, and my own OB/GYN came into the recovery room after my first D&E and told me I had "PLENTY of time left to have another baby."

PLENTY, I remember that word like it was yesterday. And that sentence echos onward. How wrong she would be.

My last pregnancy that looked so promising ended after the dreaded viability scan. I had just seen a heartbeat, a perfect one, and thought that pregnancy #6 would be THE ONE. It was not, and on a cold February morning one week after, I had another D&E.

In between loss number one and five is just a hazy history. A trail of broken dreams and hearts.

Some people still wonder why I am still marching down this road. They have grown weary of my trek, and lost interest. I don't blame them at all, and I have finally reached peace with that.

The hard thing is looking in people's eyes... and I know what they are thinking...

... they think I am crazy.

Well, I should say the ones who think THAT certainly aren't infertiles, moms, or compassionate women/men themselves. The are either very naive or very ignorant. Sometimes both.

The difference now between that old me and the battered me is I am able to more easily move from that conversation, or just go about my business knowing that not everyone will understand.

They will never understand.

Occasionally, the few who do are life lifeboats on a vast ocean. I used to be the type of person that dealt with my pain alone, but infertility has changed that. Instead of reaching for the lifeboat I would doggie paddle to keep my head above water. I would suck it up and wade in the ocean even if my legs went numb and I was gasping for breath.

Now, when I feel too burdened by myself, I swim.

And swim.

Until I find a lifeboat. That lifeboat is now a such a welcoming oasis. It is all of you, my bloggy friends, and a select group of real life friends and family who are commited to standing next to me.

Or swimming, as it were.

I never knew how much I would appreciate a community that can listen to my dribble- really listen, and despite my failed history... still be my cheerleaders.

I've done nothing but fail lately, but here I am about to embark one last time, and there you are still wishing and praying for me.

For that, I say Thank You.

Remembering

Today, October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day .

Especially poignant for me, as Oct 15th, 2008 also marks yet another due date I never reached. My most recent pregnancy that ended far too soon. Today, I would have had a baby in my arms.

For the last 3 years, every time I remember this day I have more losses to add to the list. It becomes so incredibly painful to remember them all.

And to be honest, there have been so many that the months and days start to run together. A mish mash of missed dues dates and dashed dreams.

As a favor to me, if you have any close friends of family that have experienced loss, please reach out to them today. If for anything just to say hello and you are thinking of them.

And to my fellow sisters-in-loss who have been there, I am thinking of you.

Crossroads

Yesterday, I went to the OB/GYN for my post-op visit. Let me preface by saying that although I do like my doctor there (and her refreshing opinions compared to my RE's) I hate to go there.

Y0u know why. The onslaught of pregnant people and babies.

Unlike my RE's office, which is a child-free zone, I got to experience what I've been missing in the last two years of my infertility treatments.... Grumpy pregnant women. One sat across from me, lamenting how uncomfortable she is, and she wish her pregnancy was OVER. It took all the power in the world for me not to roll my eyes. Or club her.

I had a women sit next to me with a baby carrier in tow. She sat down and sighed. I attempted not to make eye contact with her. Then she turned to me and said, "my baby is four months old, and here I am again, pregnant with #2. I can't believe this is happening to me. I am so upset."

I wanted to slug her.

I wanted to vomit.

I felt my blood pressure rise, and my face flush, and I turned to her ready to spout something terrible that would make her feel like a peon. But I didn't. I sat for another 45 minutes feeling like I wanted to disappear. I would have rather been anywhere but there.

Now weepy and pissed, I finally get to the exam room. When Dr. D walks in we talk about my recovery. Which has been, thankfully, uneventful physically. Blah, blah, blah, expect your next cycle to start in a couple weeks. Call the RE for a consult next month and talk to them about next steps.

Then she stops and looks at me and says... "You need to decide your tolerance here. Think about what is best for you emotionally and for your family." It was as if I had every emotion written on my face at that moment and she saw it. We talked more, about trying again, the emotional and financial toll, adoption, and when it's okay to say... I'm done.

I got home and decided to look into the infertility counselor referral my RE gave me. Then I spent the afternoon surfing the 'net Googling more adoption links and ordering some books on Amazon.

Last night, S. and I had another serious conversation about all of this. We already decided we want to seek adoption, no matter what. So how does this fit in with closing the book on trying on our own? I have two insured cycles left (if we take advantage of them, we'll do IVF in May-June). I am still wondering if I should be investing all my time in adoption, or these last two cycles.

The odd thing is.... for the first time EVER... I thought about just letting go. Save the money for adoption. I guess I am just waiting for a sign. I know that's silly, and a lot of you don't believe in fate and all of that. But it seems like this may be the turning point.

I just wish someone would point me down the right path and say GO THERE... that's where you are meant to go.

In the meantime, I just really, really want to hide.

Moving along...

It's distressing to look at the state of my life.

From the outside in, I must look like a total hot mess. Not of Britney Spears proportion or anything, please. Despite some major setbacks, I still can appear that I have my shit together, even though I am one latte away from a major freakout.

Regarding my rant yesterday on the education issues.... I am a little calmer and have a plan D, E, and F in place. I e-mailed the Principal of said Catholic school, and fell on the sword. My Mom-in-law helped with the all-out assault, and she too contacted Ms. Principal. We found out that David is in the top three of the waiting list, and my willingness to throw down a $500 donation to the church would have helped (before decisions were made), but now is of little value.

Yeah, that freaks me out a bit. And more so when I happened to chat to the co-director of the school David is in now.. she mentioned that her nephew was just accepted to this same school. Her sister is not a parishioner. That pissed me off. Because it means that there really was no priority given to parishioners like me, and Ms. Principal chose students only on the basis of the "squeaky wheel" theory.

I was ready to mount my attack. But cooler heads prevailed, and I have resigned myself to the fact that if they don't want us, they are missing one great opportunity and a great kid. Whatever will be will be.

In the meantime, I setup some appointments with two other private schools (tomorrow, and Saturday) for a grand tour. These two schools *may* have space available, but I need to check out the atmosphere, curriculum, teachers, and most importantly the price. Both have non-refundable registration fees, but they are less than $100 each, so if I like what I see I may just register and have it in my back pocket. After all of this, I am willing to gamble $200 for some peace of mind. Otherwise I'll be a total mess until the end of the summer.

Also, for those of you who have e-mailed me on the info I was seeking on RPL testing, THANK YOU! Keep the notes coming! You guys have given me some great hints and ideas to check out. I am so grateful for this community.

Amongst all of this drama, hubby and I are also renewing our research into adoption. I've been poking around with a lot of my blogging buddies on that subject as well, so if you are in the process of adoption, I'd love to hear from you. We are still leaning towards Int'l adoption, but I'm not ruling out anything at the moment.

Lastly, a bit of more sad news..... I never have enough it seems. My Grandmother (my Dad's Mom) is gravely ill and not expected to recover. She is in the hospital (has been for the last month or so). I have a sort of unusual relationship with my Dad's parents over the years (I was never as close to them as I was with my Mom's parents). A long story for another time......
however I do wish a peaceful ending to the situation for my Grandmother, and prayers to my Grandfather that he can be strong through this. But mostly, I am thinking about my Dad. He has shouldered much of the care (and drama) over the last few years, and I know how difficult a decision he has along with my Aunts and Uncles.

Sheesh, it's only Tuesday and I feel like it should be the end of the week.

My goal for today is to take deep breaths and try to remain serene.

With everything going on, I'm still surviving.

Back to The Bench

First, let me say that I am shocked at the number of comments and e-mails you all sent me. Your support is immeasurable.

So, yesterday was D&E Day. I had spent the prior day (Wed.) shuffling back and forth from my OB/GYN (who agreed to do the surgery), and the hospital for pre-admissions paperwork and bloodtests. Frankly by the time I woke up yesterday morning and prepared for my hospital day, I was out of tears and exhausted. I just wanted it over.

I even had a few laughs (imagine that) in the hospital with the nurses and in particular the anesthesiology team. One guy was a young Richard Gere who talked about golf and Tiger Wood's big butt (yeah, I know ???) and the other was a Dr. McDreamy look-alike right from Seattle Grace Hospital (except he was one mystic tan away from resembling George Hamilton). As I was waiting for my "happy hour shot" in the IV from McDreamy, I started at the staff gathered at the desk in the OR, and it dawned on me that most of them were way younger than me and good looking. How did that happen?

Anyway, my trusted Dr. D completed the D&E, and thank goodness she thinks she got it all. I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear that in recovery. If my hCG hits zero even within a few weeks from now, I will bow down and salute her good work.

So here I am, back where I started a million times. Miscarriage #4 or #5 depending on whether you count my chemical pregnancy from 2006.

I am spent.

But I intend to use the next couple of months to try to uncover anything new I can learn about what my problem is.

For those of you late to the game, let me tell you a brief history. I've been tested for the basic RPL panel (thyroid, clotting, immune, blood disorders, etc.) over the last year. Nothing out of the ordinary. S. and I have had our karotype tested- normal chromosones. I've had Day Three testing drawn three times in the last year, my FSH and estradiol still clocking in as better than normal for my age. I've never been diagnosed with a luteal phase defect (on unmedicated cycles I have a 13-14 day LP). I've only had low progesterone with a pregnancy once that I know of, but that one was doomed from the start with low hCG. Hubby's SA's have been normal.

So there are a couple of unanswered questions. One, it's proven I still have a decent ovarian reserve but nothing to be said of the "quality" or the eggs, which may indeed be a big problem. The RE vaguely suggested a couple paths, one being donor eggs. I feel as if I am under the gun, not just with my age, but financially. So it is important to have a plan that makes sense.

Two, I know all of you who have been there (suffered any repeated losses) have read probably the same books I have. I am especially intrigued by some immunologial factors that may have NOT been tested for. Not because I have a crappy RE, but they can't order more detailed tests because my local labs are not equipped to test for them.

If any of my IF blogging friends are still lurking, I need help. If you or any of your blogging friends have had RPL testing beyond the normal stuff, I want to hear from you. What did you do, where did you go (doctors, cities), what did another specialist find if they found anything? My e-mail is in my profile....

To be honest, I don't know where this path is leading. I don't know if I am at the end or close to it, but I promised myself last night as I was lying in bed that I would take the next few months and uncover every stone I can. Because I won't even make peace with any of this if I don't try.

If you are hearing desperation in my post, well, truth be told, that ship sailed ever since the last miscarriage. I am so totally devastated knowing now that it is possible to have a great looking pregancy bite the dust and that that scares the shit out of me.

But it also make me want to look for the answers. I know that is easier said than done, and sometimes the answers are never found. But after all the time, energy, disappointment I've had over the last three years... I need to do right by myself.

I need to uncover each stone. I need to.

The End

I'm not sure how to start this post, so I'll just say it.

My ultrasound this morning did not go well. I am measuring 4 days behind, but worse, the heartbeat is gone. After my appointment with the RE, I went to another radiology lab (with better machines) to confirm the findings.

They found the same results.

I am stunned, and can't even capture my breath. How the fuck could this happen????

My RE wants me to either miscarry naturally or with medicinal assistance (cytotec - like last time). If you remember, he was not successful in completing my last D&E (anatomically I have a few challenges with a narrow cervix and a tipped uterus) thus his conservative approach.

I am opting to go back to my ob/gyn for the D&E (they've done it successfully, no doubt in part that they unfortunately do d&c's just as much as deliveries). I also want them to try again in the hopes that they can capture the remains and do testing. I just need to know.

I am crushed enough. I don't need another event like the last miscarriage which dragged out for 5 months.

As for how I feel, I am sad to say I think I've reached the end of my rope. Clearly, great betas and one stellar u/s does not equal a baby.

Frankly, I am out of time, patience, and money. And Hope has taken a beating as well. I just don't forsee Hope as being a part of my life anytime soon.

I've often thought what it would be like to reach The End.

I just never thought I would get there.

2007: Don't let the door hit you on the a@# on the way out

2007 I am glad to see you go.

It wasn't a banner year at the BagMomma house. In fact, it pretty much exceeded my worst expectations.

Two more miscarriages, Dad's cancer, the loss of my only two pets, the death of a beloved family friend, employment woes for both S. and myself... ugh....shall I go on? Every time I was faced with a new low, another lower low was ready to step in and take its place.

I do not understand how The Cosmos finds certain people worthy to face unimaginable hardships, and others with riches of blessings beyond their wildest dreams. I guess that's a mystery of life we'll never solve.

Imagine an old-fashioned set of scales. I am always usually teeter-tottering on even. Usually I am lucky to not end up on the sinking end, but this year has ended with a thump to the bottom. A year designed to teach a lesson I did not learn appropriately in 2006. Yes, it has been pretty depressing.

LOSS has been my numero uno companion (again) for 2007.

So I am forced to ask myself... what did I learn this year? Is there a message to this?

One observation I made this year is when you go through a rough patch in your life (whether it's week, a month, a year, or more) sometimes people tend to alienate themselves from you without knowing. I think it's human nature, really. People don't like trainwrecks. They pause to gasp at the sadness of the situation, and they move on.

I suppose it's the same thing when people lose dear loved ones. Shortly after everyone goes back to their own lives. The cards, the cakes, the cookies, the pre-made dinners are over, the flowers wilt.... life goes on.

And unfortunately, not everyone goes along for the ride or turns back to see if you are still present.

I'll admit, I was very lonely in 2007. A gaping hole that S., nor David could not quite fill. I have always been the mother, the nurturer to many in my life. It's a little unnerving to say I lost a lot of that in 2007, because where does the nurturer go when YOU are the one that needs lifting up? I spent a lot of time being sad and feeling sorry for myself which is a bad cycle, a HARD cycle to get out of. You spend many days down in the dumps waiting for someone, ANYONE to throw you a life preserver.

As I fail at each attempt to bring another baby into the world, I fade into the periphery. Perhaps the people around me are afraid to say anything, or they are uncomfortable. Which I totally understand. But really the worst disservice to a person in my situation is to lose hope for the person experiencing it. And each time I become pregnant, I feel like those around me are expecting me to fail. So they stand back and remain silent. And when it does fail, they step back even further.

So, yes, relationships were another burden of truth for me in 2007. Sometimes, you can give and give and give until it hurts, but you cannot expect a return on your investment. Another lesson learned.

I learned that I needed to take an assessment of my work life. I was working hard, getting nothing in return but more work and aggravation and STRESS. I've racked my brain trying to account for all my options... what if I change jobs? what if I go part-time? should I keep progressing up the corporate ladder? will it bring me more satisfaction or just more of what I don't want?

That question will probably remain to be answered for 2008.

This time last year, despite the pitfalls of 2006, I was very hopeful. I'd like to think I am still hopeful for something better. But I would be lying if I said my "glass half-full" attitude is still 100% in effect. I feel a bit beaten down. The Universe is chipping away, and I am busy trying to crazy glue the pieces back together at the same time. My glass is leaking, ever so slowly against my will.

I know, REALITY CHECK, Shelli. There is a lot adversity in the world, and I KNOW I am more fortunate than many. This post does not discount that fact that others have way more burdens than me. But...

Yes, everything is relative.

But relatively speaking, I ask that 2008 be kind to my family. I pray that I have seen the bottom of the valley, that the road is uphill and clear, and that light at the end of the tunnel comes into view. I pray for clarity. I wish to repair some of the bruises I left on others and hope they will do the same for me.

Darn. I didn't want this to be a drawn-out negative post, but now that I've read it, it is sort of a downer. I pondered using the DELETE button, but where would that leave me? Life is positive and negative, and sometimes you just have to talk about the bad stuff. I HAD TO acknowledge this (to myself) because I feel like I have to spit it out in order to move forward.

And I will move forward. Surely there are better days ahead.

2008 here I come.

Scared to lose

It's good to be scared. It means you still have something to lose.

I heard this quote, on of all things, the TV show Grey's Anatomy. It was so interesting, I scribbled it in the margin of a magazine on the side table as I watched the episode.

A couple days later, I saw the scribbled words as I got together all the old magazines and newspapers on recycling day. I tore off the cover with the quote on it and placed it on my desk.

I've been staring at this quote all morning and pondering why I found it so interesting.

Through many of my trials and tribulations in the last couple of years, one thing I've carried in my backpocket has been faith.

Faith that our luck would change.
Faith that better days were ahead.
Faith that my family and I can overcome the challenges that come our way.

Fear is a component of my life that comes and goes. I don't live my life in constant fear, thank goodness, but when the fear creeps up it's hard to shake. Sometimes the fear is like a vice grip, slowly squeezing the life out of you. Or a cat in a dark alley ready to pounce. But it never appears in the same way.

When I think of my life in its totality, I feel lucky. I have S. and David. I have family and friends who I love to pieces. I make a decent living. I live in a modest house and have food on the table. I laugh (mostly, lol).

My Dad always used to say to me (still does), being scared is reserved for situations of the utmost importance. Death, for example. Anything else isn't worthy of being scared about.

That's easy for him to say.

So maybe it's not about being scared that I will never have another child. Perhaps it's just the fear of losing more.


You know that old adage about "it's not the destination, it's the journey?" Well, if you don't ever make it to your destination, how many of us will live in the moment during the journey? Remember it? Cherish it?

Or even if we do get to the destination.... does it make the journey more special, or just a mish-mash of stuff that got us from Point A to Point B?

After I really thought about this phrase I kept on my desk, it dawned on me that I was scared. Scared to face the death of a dream. The dream that I can't bear to lose.

A fellow SIF blogger blogged about this topic awhile ago, about getting to the END. The last chance at catching the star you've been reaching for for so long.

Because of my (ahem) advanced maternal age, I don't have the luxury of doing IUI after IUI and gazillions of IVF attempts. It seems odd that I only went to the RE for my first visit 10 months ago, on my 39th birthday... and how quickly the urgency appeared.

The reality is I have a couple shots at this. 2 or 3 IUI's with injectibles at the most, and two (insurance covered) IVF attempts.

In four to five months, if none of this works, I could reach the end of everything.

Perhaps it's the hormones coursing though my body, but for today, I admit. I am a wee bit scared.