Sad.

Today was the end. Eight or nine months of attempting to become pregnant have passed. We have been unsuccessful. I didn't think I'd feel so sad. I think it was more intense this time because I know we're taking a break. For real this time. I don't think we'll start up again until August or September. While the disappointment I feel each month is hard, at least I'm constantly trying. I constantly have new hope. There is no hope now. We will will not reach our goal in the next few months. It's hard to think about that.

I was thinking today about how strange my pursuit of having children has turned out. My first pregnancy was achieved with Clomid. I took a pill for a few months and got the good news that it had worked. You all know how that story turned out. When all was said and done and we started to try again, we were sure Clomid would do the trick again. Months passed. Nothing. We decided to graduate to medication coupled with insemination. After a couple of cycles, we had success again. Somehow we still didn't learn. This time we were sure the same treatment would work because it worked last time. We were wrong. Each attempt at pregnancy has required more intervention. It's strange how that has worked out. I don't know what the specialist will suggest when we meet with him in a few weeks. It looks like we will have to move on to "Plan B." Er... Plan H. I can't keep track anymore.

I'm not sure why I torture myself, but I'm watching a show right now called "I'm Pregnant And..." which details the lives of pregnant women in difficult situations. Tonight they had a woman who is pregnant and homeless followed by an episode about a pregnant woman in prison. I can't understand how life works. It seems unfair for some women to be stuck with infertility when they are in safe and secure relationships with homes, food, stability, education, employment, and the desire to have children. At the same time there are so many pregnant women with no resources who have made poor decisions and were not even trying to conceive. It's even worse that adoption is so cost prohibitive to couples who so badly want to have the babies that no one else wants. I can't make sense out of it.

When I realized that this cycle had come to an end today, I felt peaceful about it for awhile. I thought about how I will be able to enjoy a few nice cold beers on the deck this summer. I will be able to catch up financially. I will be able to stop trying to set up a work schedule around my many appointments. I will be able to stop looking for symptoms and waiting for news. I'm looking forward to that part. I'd trade it all for a baby though. I heard a soft and tender song on the radio this afternoon and started to cry while I was driving. It hit me hard.

I never like those times in my life when I can't see God's plan. I don't like it when His plan doesn't fit mine. One of the hardest things to deal with is letting go of what you want and accepting what He wants for you. I have faith. I know it's right. It just doesn't make today any easier.

Tonight I'm repeating The Serenity Prayer to myself and having a small glass of wine. I'm crying. I'm remembering how amazing it is that I was given a daughter when the odds are stacked against it. I'm wondering how this chapter will turn out. Tonight I'm sad.

Empathy

I'm sick. I literally felt sick today. I know someone who is going through the same thing I did with my little boy and his Triploidy. The more I share about my experiences, the more the word gets out. I met her through some mutual acquaintances who knew that I might be able to offer some knowledge or comfort.

As rare as I thought Triploidy was, I'm amazed I can find someone else nearby who is going through it. Up until this point, all of my experiences with it have been with moms online. This is the first time it's a person I now know in real life.

I've been following her journey, and making feeble attempts at helping in any way I can. When she shares about the emotion of it all, it brings my feelings flooding back. I feel her pain as if it's my own. I feel so helpless. I wish there was a way for me to make sure that no one would ever have to feel that way. I wish I could do more for her. It just makes me sick.

I keep kicking around ideas about how I could do more to help more people. I could write a book. I'm not sure how I can steal away time to do that when I can't even find time to blog! I could open up an email address for contact with other moms. This is something I've been thinking about for awhile. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by social media. It takes a lot of time to keep up, and I fear that another email to maintain might end up being too much for me. Still, I feel compelled to do more. Create a support group? Volunteering at a hospital? It's all too much to think about right now. Tonight I feel tired. I feel ready for a long weekend. I feel sick for my new friend and her pain. My mind is with her tonight.

Tradition

You can tell the weather has improved because I've been more absent here. It's too hard to sit behind a computer when it's nice outside. Maybe I just need to get out on the deck with the laptop in the evening!

This weekend my husband and I will celebrate an anniversary. I've been enjoying reading other blogs and discovering that some couples have traditions they share on certain occasions like this throughout the year. While we do have some basic holiday traditions, I'm starting to think we could benefit from something new. We don't see each other as much as I'd like, so I feel like we often struggle to connect. I think it's a common issue for families with young children. The only time we can find to really be together is over a movie once or twice a week. We only have a babysitter about 4 times a year. Yes, that's right. We date quarterly. It's really starting to get me down.

As our anniversary approaches, I'm trying to think of something fun we can add into our boring old routine. I want some kind of tradition. Any ideas?

Medicine Buffet

I realized this week that we've been spending an abnormal amount of time in the pharmacy and at the doctor's office. I also figured out that we've spent $250 on medications in the last 30 days. Wow! I wanted to see what $250 of medication looks like, so I gathered it all up. My daughter and I have either consumed or are in the process of consuming all of these things. Somehow my husband has been spared from any viruses. Figures.


Today has been a rainy day. It didn't dampen my daughter's spirits or stop her from donning her rain boots and stomping around in any puddles she could find. She's feeling a bit better after all of this medical intervention, but she's still not back to normal. Did I forget to mention that it was a double ear infection this time? It has been unreal. When it rains, it pours. I guess today we can also take that expression literally.

I have entered the two week waiting time. We decided to do a sixth cycle. Now I will start to obsess over physical symptoms and wish that I could stay in bed. I realize that this is all irrational of course, but I can't help it. Being rational isn't easy for someone who feels profoundly broken. My body needs all the help I can give it! We are set on holding off after this. I know I've said that before, but it's true this time. I require a break.

As I wait to find out if we've had success this time, I find some fears creeping in again too. When you've dealt with the loss of a baby, you no longer imagine getting pregnant as a joyous occasion. Fear is the most prominent emotion. What if we have another loss? What if something goes wrong? It's easy to feel like it won't happen to you until it does. If the odds are 1 in 20,000, most people feel pretty secure, but I remember that someone has to be the "1." It could be me. My only comfort comes from knowing that I survived. I can survive a lot more than I think. If I had been unwilling to roll the dice again, I never would have had my daughter. I can't play life from a position of fear. I refuse to do that. Here we go again!

Another Sign

I'm feeling slightly better after 24 hours of antibiotics, so I figured I'd share my other experience with signs as promised. I'm fighting with blogger to get my photos and text to format the way I want. I'm just going to have to give up and accept it as it is. You can still follow me, right? Good.

As I said in my last post, I now believe in signs. For example, if I am speeding and then pass a cop without getting pulled over, I look at it as a sign. I should slow down. This was my free pass. The next time I won't be so lucky. I try to pay attention.

After we lost Noah we were understandably frustrated with our struggles. After such a long battle with infertility, we had been given a peek into the excitement and promise of early pregnancy only to have it taken away. After we lost our little boy, my father-in-law purchased small pewter pins of a baby's footprint for us. He was also wearing one of these pins on his lapel. He told us that the pins were to be worn as a reminder of our little boy who will never be forgotten. It was very nice of him to think of us like that.



We started back into fertility treatments not long after Noah was gone, but we needed some encouragement. It was during this time that I noticed a large smudge on our bathroom mirror when it would steam up. I'm a clean person, but my house is not immaculate. I looked at the smudge for several weeks and didn't think anything of it until one day when my husband vocalized his awareness of said smudge. His assessment was that it looked like a baby's footprint. Sure enough when I took my next shower I did take notice of it's curious shape. While it wasn't a perfect footprint by any means, it did look quite similar to a foot with toes.

I cleaned the house a few days later and reminded myself to clean the mirror to wipe away our little footprint-shaped smudge, but the next time I took a shower, it reappeared. "Darn." I thought, "I missed it! I need to clean more thoroughly next time!" Several more attempts were made to clear the footprint from our mirror to no avail. I told my husband that it wouldn't go away, so we scrubbed it as hard as we could. No luck.


I commented to my husband that it might be some kind of encouragement from beyond. Believe what you want. Maybe I was reading into something because I needed hope. I'm ok with that. I think we need to find hope with any source we can - real or imagined. Regardless of it's true origin, I began to look at the footprint as an sign that the family we had imagined would become a reality if we would only keep faith. It was so curious to me that I actually attempted to document it in pictures. (By this time I was a firm believer in signs, and I knew it would be a good story in my future child's baby book.) I could even kind of line it up with my belly depending on where I was standing.

What became of my footprint? It hung around for quite some time, but it disappeared shortly after we discovered we had successfully conceived again. It was around long enough to keep me going. Was it a sign? To me it was. That's all that matters. Take a look at the pictures. Can you see my smudge? Does it look like a footprint?

Whenever I see the people on the news who claim to see Jesus in their toast I have to chuckle. It might sound crazy to some people, but if it gives hope to even one person, I can appreciate it.

Sick. Again.

April hit my family hard. We were sick. Then we were sick again. Looks like May is off to a rough start too. Now I'm sick. Again... or still. I'm not sure. I'm never sick. If I am, it's usually only a couple of days. This must be some kind of super bug.

I decided to post something quick to confirm that I'm not pregnant. We decided to do one more round of fertility treatment to make it an even six. I'm not sure how to pay for it, but I'll sort it out. This month we meet with a specialist to find out if there's anything more we can do. I'm anxious about it. I'm going to try not to think about it at this point.

I'm off to make some tea and cough myself to sleep. My planned blog about my other big "sign" will have to wait. Right now all signs are pointing me to my bed. I'm going to listen.