BLOGOVERSARY

The one-year anniversary of this blog came and went in May without even a peep.

I started this blog last year when we were beginning the first of three failed IUI cycles. I was very excited about the prospect of this blog quickly transforming into a chronicle of pregnancy, then of baby's first few years. Quite obviously, that did not happen. Looking back, I now see how naive I was about the success of IUI. I thought it was our magic answer. After all, we'd been trying for several years. We were DUE, right?

Actually, I've been naive about this whole process - about all the treatments. With every new procedure or plan, I find myself calculating due dates and sneaking peeks at baby furniture catalogues. This time has been no different. Kev and I have already decided that we have a pretty good chance of having a baby (or two) on his birthday next year. And last night, I fell asleep envisioning what additions I'd make to the nursery if we were somehow fortunate enough to be blessed with twins.

The word "naive" has such negative connotations. I think I need more positive language in my life right now. Maybe what I've got is not naiveté, but hope. Yes. Hope. That sounds better. But then again, hope can be dangerous, as I've found. If things don't go as I had planned, despair moves in where hope once resided. This is one thing I fear. That crushing despair can be so dark and lonely and consuming and convincing. It's this fear that has kept me from allowing myself to get as excited as I would truly like to be about our upcoming IVF. I am hopeful, of course. It's just a guarded hope.

So with that same guarded hope, I'll continue to trace my journey on this road to baby. I will continue to blog about it with the hope that I will soon be able to transition into a pregnancy blog then a bouncy baby blog.

And I hope to see good follies at my scan tomorrow too.

GIVE ME A GROWN-UP ANSWER, PLEASE

Kev and I decided to find a new clinic to do our IVF. When we interviewed the clinic, we met with a certain IVF coordinator - let's call her B. She was very professional and knowledgeable. She asked all the right questions and answered ours very much to my satisfaction. Having been working with a Reproductive Endocrinologist for three years, Kev and I are pretty up on the infertility lingo of reproductive mechanisms. B did not treat us like idiots. She didn't assume (as medical professionals sometimes do) that Kev and I don't have an intimate knowledge of the workings of the female anatomy - however broken mine is - and she spoke to us in just enough medical and lay terms so as not to offend or alienate us. We left feeling confident that B would do a superb job coordinating our IVF. Honestly, B had a large influence on our deciding to use that clinic (as opposed to the other clinic who didn't even know what questions to ask me - I ran!).

I did NOT want to be bloated, slow, and moody for the hectic end-of-year rigamarole of high school English, so we decided to wait until summer to start stims and do the egg retrieval and embryo transfer. In the meantime, I got an email from some other lady - we'll call her C - saying she's new to the clinic and that she's going to be our IVF coordinator and do I have any questions. Uh, yeah. Who the hell are you? And, no you're not going to by my IVF coordinator. I met B; I trust B; B will be my IVF coordinator. It's not okay to switch on someone in a situation like this. There is just too much at stake.

Ok, so I got that straightened out. B will be my coordinator. Done.

Well, B called me last Monday to say that she would not be in the office on Thursday (the day of my first appt. for suppression scan, catheter measurement, drug order, protocol explanation, etc.) and that she wanted to tell me personally because I had specifically requested to work with B. I was okay with this since she called; plus, it was a one-time thing, and she assured me that she is going to be my coordinator. I was hesitant, but agreed.

Upon my first meeting C, she went over the protocol for our IVF. It is called the lo-dose hCG protocol because I will be injecting a small amount of hCG along with Lupron and Gonal-F every day. This being my first (and hopefully last) IVF, I was confused about the hCG. In the past, I had always taken a very large dose of hCG to induce ovulation, so I wanted to know what function the small amount of hCG has. What does it do? How does it make my body react? Simple question, right? It should be for a professional. C looked at me, baffled, and proceeded to cough out some crap about it being a "helper hormone." I wanted to reassure her that she could speak to me in medical terms and explain to me what exactly it does in my body. So I told her I was just curious about what role it plays in the stimulation. She coughed a little again and spat out the same shit about "helper hormones" and then told me that it was okay that I was just confused.

I'm confused?! No, no. I believe you're confused. I dropped it. She obviously didn't know the answer.

When Kev arrived at the appointment, I told him about the interaction. He was curious as well, and decided that after the scan, he would ask her the same question after giving her sufficient time to find the correct answer (while in my scan). I was amazed that this time she said that she was confused (not him, not me) and again that it was a "helper hormone." Are you freaking kidding me? That's it? You've had fifteen minutes to either ask someone for the answer or look it up in one of the hundreds of medical reference books and databases at your disposal, knowing that you would have to see me again, and you didn't find the answer for me?

I will just say that I am glad C will not be coordinating my IVF. She's a nice enough gal, but I need to trust that my questions can be answered professionally and to my satisfaction. Should I say anything to B this Friday when I go back for my first follie scan?

Wow. These hormone shots must be getting to me. I just realized that I've ranted about this for about an hour. I'm not usually this negative in my writing. Maybe it's a good sign that I'm cooking some strong, healthy eggs!

HERON BY MOONLIGHT

It's been a while since I've posted a pic from "on the road," so here is one from Northwestern Missouri, captured at the lake my family retreats to once a year.

Kev and I went with my mother, my sister, her husband, their daughter's boyfriend, and my great-niece and great-nephew on a moonlight fishing outing on the pontoon. The moon was beautiful, the lake was calm, and the critters were stirring. The little ones had fun pointing out marmots, snakes, and owls, while I was enchanted by this magnificent bird.

A MESSAGE FROM GOD?

Every year, my family rents a few cabins at a little local lake that has been a well-kept secret for a decade or more. It's absolutely gorgeous, cost-effective, and relatively quiet. I don't know why more people haven't heard about it, but it's fine with me. I like having the sunset to myself. I like knowing that the cabins will be available next year on the weekend I want. I like being able to enjoy my family while participating in all kinds of outdoor activities. We camp, build bonfires, boat, fish, golf, play bocci, cook for each other, play board games, fly kites, walk dogs, play our own version of volleyball, and about a dozen more things. This year was no different. Family fun was had by all, and a few family announcements were made, as well.

That's right. My nephew, who just got married two months ago, announced that they are expecting a tiny bundle of joy at the beginning of 2010. It's a wonderful thing! My nephew's new wife brings to the union a beautiful (and quite tall!) five year old princess from a previous marriage. With the promise of a new baby on the way, they are sure to be the perfect little happy family. And they're all just as sweet as can be. Which is why I hated the way I reacted when I heard the news. I simply said, "Oh, that's great!" and promptly left the room to keep from crying. I couldn't even squeak out the word "congratulations" before sneaking out. I wanted them to know that I am excited for them and that I think they are going to be wonderful parents together and that I wish them all the happiness in the world. I just couldn't say it. And now I feel like such an asshole.

My sister-in-law saw how I was affected by the announcement, and she came outside to talk to me. She comforted me and assured me that she prays for Kev and me all the time. Sometimes people say this and you can just tell it isn't true. But somehow I knew that she was telling the truth. She went on to say that recently she has been getting the feeling that when she prays, she should no longer be praying for a child for us, but for peace instead. When she told me this, I about lost my mind. What it sounds like to me is that I will not have children, and that I need to find peace in my heart and accept this fact. Terrifying. She reassured me that this was not the feeling she's been getting, but rather, God has the babies figured out for us and we need peace until that happens. I hope that's all her message from God means. I am definitely not ready to give up trying to create a family. I am not giving up. I am not! I don't want to seek that kind of peace.

I also explained to her that now that we're doing IVF, we will have to pull our adoption profile because we won't be able to afford both IVF and open adoption. She told me that she strongly feels that we are not supposed to pull our profile. She thinks that we are supposed to leave it in place and if we get matched, we will roll with it. She said we should not worry about the money, that the money is not important and that it will come if we need it. I hadn't considered this. I thought it had to be one way or the other. But, honestly, I like her idea better. I like keeping our options open. We've been trying to start a family for six years. I don't like closing any doors to that opportunity - no matter how financially prohibitive they seem.

So I think that's our plan. We pursue IVF and keep our adoption profile in place. If we are matched for an adoption, wonderful! If we conceive through IVF, wonderful! If both happen at the same time... DOUBLE WONDERFUL! I can't imagine a happier answer to this infertility question we posed six years ago.

For this idea, I would like to thank my sweet (and brilliant) sister-in-law. I would also like to thank God for giving her the grace to talk to me about this. I would also like to congratulate my nephew on their pregnancy. Maybe we'll have kids a few months apart. *Fingers crossed*

BACK ON TRACK - A NEW TRACK, THAT IS

I haven't been writing much lately and there is really only one reason for it: I haven't been writing for myself. I have found myself holding back from what I truly wanted to say out of fear that I would offend someone, that a reader would comment something I didn't want to hear, or that I would turn someone off by not writing what they wanted me to. Because I haven't been writing for myself, I have felt out of sorts. I haven't known what to write about. I haven't had many thoughts that I felt worthy of posting for this imagined judgmental audience that I dreamed would flog me for not doing what "they" wanted. I must be delusional. I have also felt that I haven't been honest with myself or with my readership.

I probably wouldn't even have started this post had it not been for Mel at Stirrup Queens writing on this very topic. I needed someone to remind me of the reason I started this blog. The point was to document my journey through infertility. To explore my thoughts, joys, questions, fears as I navigate my way on this (so far) heart-wrenching trip. Of course, I expected some people to come along for the ride with me - well, at least to read about it - but that's not solely who this blog is for. I needed to hear from Mel that transitions in regards to the world of infertility are worthy of blogging about. That transitions are hard but important. Which leads me to what I've wanted to write about for the past few months.

During the course of writing this blog, Kev and I have gone from monthly Femara with injections of HCG and timed relations to a more aggressive hormone treatment and three failed IUI's to being approved for domestic adoption and waiting, waiting, waiting to our most recent additional plan for starting our family. It's a big move. We're moving on to IVF.

Kev and I start stimming for IVF on Sunday evening. I've been taking Lupron injections for a little over two weeks, and this Sunday I add Gonal-F and low-dose HCG to the mix. I will give myself three injections per day for the first few days. This number of injections will likely be bumped up after my next scan on Tuesday.

That feels good to get off my chest. I feel as though I've been holding back for you so you wouldn't get upset that I'm moving on to IVF. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm writing this for me. I do still feel that I have to explain a little. Hopefully, this compulsion to justify my actions will go away again and I can get back to writing for real.

This move doesn't mean that Kev and I are no longer exploring adoption at this time. As far as I can tell, we are still waiting. I do imagine, however, that there will be some of you who disagree with our decision to pursue IVF while waiting to adopt. This doesn't mean that if we are matched tomorrow that I would reject the match. Not at all! We would love to be matched and explore an open adoption with a birth mother. I hope that people realize that this move doesn't indicate our closing a door, but more of our openness to beginning our family by any means available.

We've been trying to start our family for six years. We need to be able to explore many options. We need your support. We need your prayers. I need to be able to express my thoughts, ideas, fears, and joys through this process - through this transition - for my own peace of mind. Maybe this was the peace my sister-in-law was talking about last weekend.

How wonderful! I now have something to blog about tomorrow: the advice I got from my sister-in-law last weekend.

Thanks for the reminder, Mel. I needed to get back on track.

AN APOLOGY AND A PROMISE

Next month I am going to do a much better job with IComLeavWe. This time around there were just too many things going on. Mostly, it was the end of another year of teaching, which brings with it essays to grade, tests to make, files to clean out, books to count, and the list goes on.

I didn't do a bang up job with ICLW this month. I only got around to returning a few comments, and I didn't reach my daily goal of comments to leave. It's not that I didn't want to be an active member of this community, it's just that the "teacher" part of my persona had to take over the "blogger" part and I had to get down to business. Therefore, my blog suffered. Terribly.

But don't hold it against me for too long. I promise I'll do better. School is out for the next several weeks, and I will finally be able to take a deep, reflective breath as soon as I decompress.

I'll be decompressing by spending the weekend with my entire family at the lake. Oh yeah. Sun, water, camping, food, games, love, kids, laughs... That's just what I need to get back on track.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

INFERTILITY'S STORM

Today my department had a potluck lunch to celebrate the end of the year. It was also a sending-off of sorts for our department chair who will be staying home next year to raise her son.

Cue the jealousy.

When I began working there, Kev and I had already been trying to conceive for two years. The chair and I became friends and she soon decided that she also wanted to start trying for a family. Of course, you can imagine how that worked out. For a couple of months, we shared our frustrations about OPK's, negative pregnancy tests, timing, etc. It was so nice to finally have someone to talk to who understood how complicated the whole process can be for some of us. Then she stopped talking to me. Until she announced her pregnancy, that is.

Then I was suddenly on the receiving end of complaints of swollen ankles and morning sickness and not fitting into a favorite pair of jeans. I had to listen to the common woes of pregnancy that I would gladly give an eye for. And I listened and I was patient and I was empathetic and then I quietly went back to my room and cried.

For the next year or so, I listened to stories - you know the stories - of growing babies. The chair was not the only person with a new baby at home. There are four children under 3 who belong to members of my department. It makes group lunches incredibly difficult to bear for a person who suffers with infertility.

Sometimes I can stay the entire twenty minutes for lunch, but other times I can't even poke my head out my door. It's strange how infertility's storm of emotions can erupt with no warning.

Now that her son is almost two, she has chosen to stay home with him. I don't blame her. I would have done it long ago.

The position of department chair has been passed on to me. I hope the position of Mother follows suit.

AM I CRAZY?

Since beginning Lupron about six days ago, I've been a terrible person to be around. At least for Kev to be around. Poor guy, he can't seem to do anything right. But truthfully, I don't know if it's the Lupron that is making my fuse short or if it's really Kev being an ass.

A few days ago as I changed my clothes, I looked into the mirror and began pouting and harumphing about. Kev asked what was wrong and I said that I felt that I had gained back all the weight I lost this spring. He told me that I should exercise more and I wouldn't feel that way. Oh boy, did I ever blow up! He's right, but I told him that what he had said was not helpful and that I just wanted him to say something supportive.

Later that night, we went to his parents' house for a lovely dinner. Once we got home and I had changed into my PJ's, Kev asked me if I wanted to go over to a friend's house for cocktails. Um...NO. Not now! I'm in my PJ's! So he said he'd be back in one hour. One hour and fifty-five minutes later, he was still not home and hadn't returned my calls or texts. My mind started going crazy. I just knew he was in a ditch somewhere between our house and theirs. So I threw on my slippers and drove, looking down every side street for his abandoned car. It was now after midnight and I was totally surprised to see his car parked in front of our friends' house and all the guests were outside on the porch! Oh, the embarrassment. Kev was quick to insinuate that I had embarrassed him too. In fact, he called me a lunatic. And I was.

The next day, Kev's baseball team came over for a cookout. I had grocery shopped, chopped, cooked, cut, plated, and prepped all day. Kev did not say two words to me the entire time they were here. They were here for seven hours. One of them actually said, "Man, it must suck being married." To which, Kev responded, "It's not that bad." Not that bad? Are you freaking kidding me? This is the response to the moron who just ate my food and is sitting on my deck under my patio umbrella and assumes that being married must "suck"? I expected my husband to put the moron in his place, but instead, they just continued drinking beer and exchanging misogynistic comments. When the last two idiots finally left, I had already packed our bags to spend the weekend with my parents. Kev got a tongue-lashing in the car as I drove his inebriated ass to my home town an hour away.

And tonight Kev is going to a baseball game with some co-workers. When he told me that he'd have his phone on him at the game, do you think I believed that he would actually answer my call should I try to reach him? Do you think I believed him when he said he'd be home long before 11pm? I believe the last thing he heard was the sound of my slamming the phone down.

I absolutely hate the way I'm feeling. Every little thing he's done in the past five or six days has been infuriating. Is it the Lupron or is he being an ass?

**As I was getting ready to publish this post, I heard someone try to open the front door. I ran upstairs to see which neighbor needed what. There was Kev, peering in through the crack in the door held in place by the chain lock. I opened the door, and he handed me a bouquet of flowers. He then proceeded to apologize for being an ass. God, I love that man.

TEASER

Those of you who have battled infertility know what this means. I still don't really have the balls to come right out and say it, but I really might as well have. I'm on day three of Lupron and a few other things.

If you know the implications of this, please wish me luck. If you don't have a rat's ass of a clue, go ahead and wish me luck for now, and I will fill you in on the details when I take care of some "business."

This is big.

DETOURS AND A SECRET

For the IComLeavWe'ers new to my blog, let me give you a brief-ish run-down of how I came to travel this TTC road. I've gone from Point A (amenorrhea) and hit all the detours common for women with PCOS, and am still trying to get to Point B (baby... Duh).

Point A: No period until age 18 (1995)
Detour 1: Put on birth control to regulate cycles
D2: Got engaged and stopped birth control and menses also stopped (2001)
D3: Diagnosed with PCOS and given Metformin. Still no regular cycles (2003)
D4: Tried acupuncture
D5: Tried Mayan abdominal massage
D6: Tried dysglycemia diet
D7: Tried Chinese herbs
D8: Still no regular cycles after three years of alternative therapies, so I found a local RE (2006)
D9: Was put back on Metformin and added Femara and HCG to the mix and got pregnant
D10: Miscarried
D11: Tried for another year using the same protocol with no luck
D12: Three failed IUI's and one good bout of OHSS (2008)
D13: Got approved for private adoption and wait, wait, wait to be matched
D14: And today... on to the next leg of our journey trying to get to Point B

When I get a little more nerve, I will blog about it. But for right now, it stays a secret. Check back soon to see if I crumble under the pressure of secrecy.

BUILD ME UP, BUTTERCUP

Mother's Day is fast approaching and I've realized that my heart has become calloused to the build-up of this widely celebrated day. Don't get me wrong.... I definitely celebrate my mother and mother-in-law and all the other mothers I know (which is nearly every woman in my life) on Mother's Day. They are life-givers and nurturers and deserve to be celebrated more than just one day a year. Really. They do.

What I mean is that lately I have found that as an American consumer, I am barraged by Mother's Day jewelry offers, radio ads, full, two-page spreads, and the like. As are most of you. You can't escape it. Click on the TV lately, and you'll see Jane Sey.more Hoff.man pushing her mass-produced synthetic diamond heart pendant. Go to a Roy.als game and listen to the 610 AM pre-game in the parking lot, and they will interview players and ask them how they plan to honor their mothers this weekend. Open a magazine or newspaper, and find article after touching article about the women who make the world go round. Americans love their mothers. Yay for our moms!

I should be mushy too, right? I mean, I have a mom. I love my mom. She's the best woman I know. Strong, caring, forgiving, smart, loving, funny, beautiful Mom. She's the best. I'm the luckiest kid in the world to have such a nearly perfect mother. Really. She's always been the best. Even when I was a shitty teenager and hated everything, she was still the best.

So why does my stomach immediately tie itself into knots at the mere suggestion of a Mother's Day advertisement? I can't control it. I don't cry into a pillow. I don't roll my eyes. I don't leave the room. I experience something in my stomach that shifts uncomfortably and uncontrollably and I stop breathing. It's almost like a mild and quick panic attack.

Remember that feeling you got in your high school freshman speech class right before you had to stand in front of 30 judgmental teens and talk for five minutes about the Titan.ic or Medgar Ev.ars? Remember how your stomach felt kind of like it was collapsing in on itself? Your heart raced, your breathing became shallow, your eyes widened, noises swelled to an inaudible roar? That's it. That's what happens when I see a florist peddling beautiful mother's bouquets or a jeweler pushing gemstone and diamond mother's rings.

What the hell is wrong with me? Is this a feeling of jealousy? Is it self-pity? What the crap is it? I need to know so that I can fix it.

My weekend is planned around my mom and mother-in-law. It's going to be all about them. I'm taking my mother-in-law to a percussion show and dinner Saturday night, then spending the entire next day with my mommy. It shouldn't be any other way. Right?

I just want this weekend to hurry and get here so I can focus on the amazing women I call Mom. But I really don't want to see or hear those ads anymore. They remind me of how insufficient I am. Deficient. Broken. Worthless? Maybe that feeling in my stomach is anger. Frustration. Maybe I just need to scream and get it out.

Or cry. I'm pretty good at that. Maybe I'll try that.

A ROYAL HIGH

I am so in love right now.

I've been a fan my whole life, but they have broken my heart every season for years. Not this year. This year, my Royals are on fire. This year, my Royals have a new stadium and a fire under their collective ass.

Have you been paying attention?! Comment your love only, please!

Go see what everyone else is showing off this week.