Tomorrow Is Another Day...

Family Fun, Track Marks and A Giveaway Winner!

Well, hello, blogland!  I've been trapped in a swirling vortex of travel, vacation, and drugs, but I return to you now on my first day alone since February 5th.  OH LORD DO I NEED SOME ALONE TIME.

I had a fantastic time in New York City with my mom and sister.  I was already completely exhausted before arrival, and as always, the city managed to wear me down to a tiny nub of myself before I made my escape back to the suburbs of the South.  I'll do a more detailed NYC post later, with a focus on the incredible theater experience I had.

I was thrilled to have my mom return home to Charleston and stay with me for a few days, then Colby's grandma arrived, followed by his parents.  So, for a few lovely days, we had a completely full house and finally managed to have all of our bedrooms filled at once.  We squeezed in some time for touristy things, but a big focus for the week was getting all of the big projects done so that the house will be ready for MLS photos and hitting the market this weekend.  Colby and his dad made some fantastic improvements, and all we have left is swiping some stain on the front steps, planting some flowers to up the curb appeal, and of course, my favorite part--cleaning the entire house.  Ugh.

And perhaps most excitingly, I started my Lupron injections on the 7th and after a stellar baseline ultrasound and estrogen check on the 20th, added two other drugs (low dose HCG and Follistim to stimulate the follicles to produce awesome eggs) to my rotation.  I inject the Lupron and HCG in the same syringe, so that's part of my morning routine, right between brushing my teeth and drinking my tea.  The Follistim is in this crazy pen contraption, and I inject that every afternoon as a prelude to happy hour.  

The Lupron injections weren't bad, but now that I'm adding in more stabs per day and injecting a larger amount of liquid, everything is starting to get a little more painful and a little bruisier.  I've been doing the injections on my thighs thinking that the skin is a little tougher and maybe less sensitive, but I'm starting to run out of spots without little pinhole bruises, so I may have to transfer to my abdomen or upper arms at some point.  Fortunately, my mom and Colby have made wonderful nurses, and so far no tears on my part, so things are okay.

FINALLY, drumroll please!  The winner of the Alice Bliss giveaway is Molly from A Foreign Land!!!!!  I'm so excited for you, Molly, and thanks for being patient with me.  I had big plans for getting back to blogging after my NYC trip and that obviously didn't really work out.  I'll email you about the shipping details.  And thank you so much to everyone else that entered!  I learned from this giveaway that jewelry is a much hotter commodity than books, but I hope you'll check out this book even if you didn't win.  It really is a great story!

Mexican Drug Lord Starter Kit

Well.  This is rather daunting.
Shit just got real, y'all.

Good Things

Last week was a whirlwind of events, and this week looks to be even crazier... followed by another busy week visiting my sister in NYC, then another busy week with multiple family members in town.  Fortunately, I had an incredibly low key weekend to recuperate and prepare myself for the onslaught.

But I'm really not complaining, because things have been going so much better than I thought possible.  We made our payments for our IVF cycle and my fertility medications, and much to our great shock, the total came to just a little over half of what we had budgeted.  Partially this is because we were initially planning on the multiple IVF cycle payment plan, so deciding to just go with the one cycle dropped our payments by about $5000.  Then there was the fantastic news that Tricare will cover part of the medication, dropping that payment about $2000 from our estimate.  Then, when we went to the clinic last week to sign some consents and get our finances in order, we were told that they had had a meeting with Tricare just the day before and the company had agreed to cover the $900 room fee.

It's funny how when you're preparing yourself for a bill in the five digits, a total in the four digits seems like pocket change in comparison.  I mean, a LOT of pockets full of change, but you know.  It softens the blow.

Still, we haven't quite cleared the financial obstacles ahead of us, so we aren't blowing our ravaged, but still intact nest egg on a round the world cruise or anything.  We hope against hope that we'll be one cycle wonders, but just in case we aren't, it's good to know that we've got a small buffer to help us through another cycle.

Then there's our beautiful, beloved Charleston home which we're planning to put on the market in mid-February.  We met with our realtors last week, and while they helped us feel a bit more optimistic that our house will sell fairly quickly, there's always the chance that we'll be responsible for two stateside mortgages as well as a steep deposit (usually one or two months rent) and rent payments in Germany.  But they seemed reasonably confident that we'll be able to at least get our money back on the house, and if we're lucky maybe a little more.

We've been spending each weekend for most of January going through each room of our house and making brutally difficult decisions about what will come to Germany, what will stay in storage in the US and what can go to consignment shops or Goodwill.  It's absolutely astounding the massive amount of stuff that accumulates with time.  We have only been here for two years and don't have an attic or a basement, so I honestly have no idea how all of this extra stuff has been floating around our house all this time.  But we are making progress, and I only have a few closets left to purge and plenty of time before the movers arrive.

I've also been working quite a bit, and still enjoying every minute of it.  I'm nannying four days a week, and with additional as-needed babysitting jobs, I'm typically working five or six days each week.  I'm very proud to say that with just a couple more weeks of work, I will have earned enough just from my jobs to cover our fertility meds.  The only regret I have is that I didn't get into this business a long time ago!

This week is full of more work, more home improvements, and lots of fun times with friends.  We've only got a little time left before our life changes dramatically in multiple ways, so I'm trying very hard to live each day to the fullest and not wish away the now in exchange for the unknown future.  Times they are a'changin'!

IVF Protocol

It's been a crazy few days, but I'm feeling a lot more postive about the future than I was this time last week.  In one of my previous posts I mentioned that our house in Washington had been sitting vacant since mid-December, and while the previous tenants paid through January to comply with their one year lease, we were starting to get anxious about the idea of no longer earning any rental income come February.  Much to our extreme excitement, last week we found out that we have an awesome couple moving in to the house in mid-February.  I expect that means we'll only get half the month's rent, but half rent is so, SO much better than no rent!

In addition, I got some incredible news about my fertility meds.  I'll be starting the medication for my IVF cycle at the beginning of February, so I spoke with the pharmacy yesterday to arrange for delivery at the end of this month.  When the girl asked me for my insurance information, I told her that we'd be paying for it out of pocket because Tricare doesn't cover anything.  Much to my surprise, she told me that they will, in fact, cover some of the meds, just not the Follistim (which is of course, the most expensive one, but STILL!).  I'm skeptically awaiting the news that she was wrong, and we will have to pay out of pocket for everything, but for the time being, the medication cost is at the lower end of the $2000-5000 estimate.  I'll have to make the actual payment in about a week and a half, so I guess at that point, I'll know for sure.

I'm still trying to decide just how much I want to share here about our IVF experience.  I've been really open about everything so far, and it's been a great method for venting my fears, frustrations, anger and sadness, but at the same time I'm starting to ping pong wildly back and forth between absolute pessimism and intense optimism about the process.  On the one hand, I want to share this because I know people are curious, and I'm not the least bit ashamed to share what we'll be going through.  I think it's pretty fasinating, actually, and it seems easier to share our experience this way than to have to retell the same story over and over again.

Here is what we know now:

February 7th I'll begin taking Lupron, which essentially shuts down my reproductive system and allows my doctor to take over and control all of the baby making hormones through medications.

February 20th I'll go to the clinic for an ultrasound and estrogen check to make sure that my body is responding properly, and then I will begin taking the medications that stimulate the follicles and eventually, assuming all goes well, take a HCG trigger shot that will pop the eggs almost out of the follies in preparation for retrieval.

March 2nd will be retrieval day when the technicians will hopefully be able to create at least one perfect, healthy future baby in a petri dish, and 3 or 5 days later (depending on how well things are developing), we'll do the transfer of either one or two embryos and know a little after that whether or not we've had a success or a failure to launch.

If we are fortunate enough to get pregnant on our first try, I'll want to shout it from the rooftops... AFTER we hear a heartbeat and know that everything is as certain as it can be--which will not be until some time after March 4th or 6th.  Even in a "normal" pregnancy, the chance of a miscarriage in the first 8 weeks is alarmingly high.  If it doesn't work, I don't know when I'll be ready to talk about it or how we'll handle that crushing disappointment.

For the time being, I'll still be sharing my journey openly and am always willing to answer questions or talk about it with anyone who is interested.  But at the end of the process, please don't be surprised if I suddenly clam up and don't say much one way or another.  I hope against hope that in the not so distant future I'll be sharing wonderful news with you, but I beg of you all not to make assumptions one way or another or try to read between the lines about whether or not I'm pregnant.

It's hard to believe that it's been 15 months since we first started on this journey.  18 disappointing cycles.  Countless tears.  Copious amounts of wine have all led us to where we are now.  It's silly and superstitious, but I'm trying very hard not to imagine myself pregnant in just a couple of months, picking out nursery furniture, or searching for a house that can accomodate a family of 3 instead of 2.  When we first started trying for a baby, we were so excited to talk about names, paint colors, the pros and cons of a boy or girl.  Over time, those conversations faded away and the excitement turned sour and it's come to feel like tempting fate.

I'm trying to allow myself to experience some feelings of excitement again, but it is terrifying.  There is so much more at stake now than there was a year ago.  So much money.  Our last shreds of hope.  I hope that at some point, I'm able to feel pure happiness and excitement again, but for now I'm cautious.  Cautiously optimistic, but cautious nonetheless.

Stressballs

Eleven days after it first began, I am STILL plague-ridden.  I really thought that yesterday would be the last day of my horrid cough and froggy voice, but come bedtime, I was kept awake for hours with the gagging TB cough and woken up this morning by the same affliction.  I would feel guilty about not working out, except for the fact that my abs are actually sore from all of the coughing muscle contractions.

So, I don't necessarily feel guilty about the fact that I haven't run in 10 days, but I do feel exceptionally stressed about that fact given that I'm meant to be running a half marathon in five days.  I honestly don't know what to do.  I've always operated under the rule of symptoms above the neck, okay to run, symptoms below the neck, keep the running shoes in the closet.  But I HAVE to run this week.  I'm worried about the fact that I'm still coughing and my lungs are all mucousy (yum!) but I really need to gauge my running ability at this point.

I'm hoping to get in four or five miles today and Wednesday, then a short run on Thursday before taking Friday off in preparation for the half.  I'm comforting myself with the fact that a lot of people surely run half marathons with far less training than I've done, and if I can't run it, well by golly I sure can walk for 13 miles.  I've been working up to this for so many months now, I can't just throw in the towel and not even try.

But oh, I'm so, so disappointed.

On top of that, I'm starting to feel incredibly anxious about our house in Washington.  We had wonderful renters in it who were planning to be there long-term, but sadly they had some personal issues arise that forced them to move to a new city.  So our house has been waiting for a new occupant since December, and so far, no bites.  Our tenants were kind enough to pay their rent through the end of January, so as long as someone moves in by February 1st we aren't missing a payment, but January surely is speeding by awfully rapidly and so far no bites.

This is why I've never been remotely interested in becoming some kind of super-landlord with rental houses across the map.  It's too stressful and unpredictable, and the idea of having to pay the mortgage with no help from rental income for months on end makes me want to throw up.  In addition, we're going to have to drop thousands on our IVF procedure in February, so the extra padding in our savings account is a lot less fluffy than we would like.  And we're having to drop some money on home improvements in our Charleston house to make it ready to hit the real estate market in the next couple of months.

Ugh.  I really do have high hopes for 2012, and I'm still hopeful that things will start turning around soon, but oh my god, we are not getting off to a good start at all.

Deutschland, Deutschland

It's hard to believe that just a little over two years ago I was excitedly announcing our assignment to Charleston, South Carolina.  A week and a half ago, I was still laboring under the delusion that we would be living here happily for at least another year--probably a bit longer.

Then Friday we got the news that we will be moving to Germany.  In May.

It's been three days since that shocking, sweeps week reveal, and things are finally starting to sink in.  We knew there was a chance that it would happen--we did put our name in the hat, so it wasn't entirely unexpected, but I don't think either one of us expected to actually get picked for the assignment.

There is so much to think about.  Colby will be coming home early from the deployment so that he can go to training for the new aircraft from March through April, then we'll be on our way to Europe a couple of weeks later.  We have to find out if we can squeeze in a round of IVF.  We have to sell our house, we might sell a car.  We have to decide what will go into storage while we're overseas, what will come on the quick shipment to live with us while we're in temporary housing.  We have to learn some German.  We have to get the dogs microchipped and injected full of various substances so that they can become international travelers.

And so, so much more.

But I am so, so excited.  Both of us have been dreaming of moving to Germany since we joined the Air Force.  We had really accepted that it probably wasn't in the cards for us since there are such limited opportunities there for someone on Colby's career path.  Then with our baby plans, it's not the best timing in the world, but one thing I've learned is that there is no such thing as perfect timing and you have to take advantage of opportunities when they arise.  Because they may never come around again.

So.  Anyone want to come visit me in Germany?

Marathon Woman

I've been keeping a secret from you.  Not intentionally.  And not very well.  But it appears that in attempting to keep up with all of my various forms of social media, one eensy weensy little thing fell through the cracks on this old blog of mine.

Remember after I ran that 10K in April, and I was all, that was great, but believe you me, I will NEVER run a half marathon?

Well, I'm training for a half marathon.  Have been since October.

I'll wait while you all peel your jaws off of the floor.

Honestly, I didn't think I had it in me.  In fact, I wasn't even all that interested in having it in me (that's what she said).  But then a funny thing happened.  I went through month after month of people telling me all of the things that my body can't do.  Or does improperly.  My ovaries are geriatric.  I'm growing a polyp farm on my uterine lining.  I'm seemingly incapable of making a baby the way billions of women have since the beginning of time.

It made me sad.  It made me angry.  It made me determined.  I wanted to prove to myself that my body is capable of anything I tell it to do.  When faced with one failure, I searched my mind for the most improbable feat I could possibly conquer.  I came up with running a marathon.  Then I had a good long laugh and started researching half marathons.

I found one in its second year in Charleston, taking place in mid-January.  The timing couldn't have been more perfect.  I could kill many hours (many, many hours) during Colby's deployment.  I could keep my body burning tons of calories around the most gluttonous time of year.  And it wouldn't interfere at all with our spring time baby making plans.

I searched around online for a training program that I felt fit me best and settled on Hal Higdon's Novice 2 schedule.  It's meant for people who are not new to running but are new to half marathons.  Then I bought a new pair of shoes, started taking a daily dose of glucosamine chondroitin for my achy joints.  Then I started running.

So far, I've gotten up to 8 miles.  In a row.  All at once.  And you know?  It's not as bad as I thought it would be.  At this point, I can't say that I'm going to be a regular half-marathoner.  My body wasn't built for running--every minute, every mile is a slog to the finish.  I find myself semi-enjoying myself right up until about five miles, then I start having illicit thoughts about my sofa.  BUT.  At the end of each long run, I feel an incredible rush of accomplishment.  Realizing that I set a goal, and I achieved it.  That I can set another goal and achieve it.  That it's just one foot in front of the other, until I reach the end.

It's actually kind of poetic how it echoes our infertility journey.  It all started with denial and fear, and now we're tying on our metaphorical running shoes and putting one foot in front of the other.  You can't run 13 miles without running the first mile.  And every mile-marker you pass puts you closer to the finish line.

As of today, I have less than a month until race day.  I'm excited, and terrified, and filled with self-doubt, but my goal is just to finish.  If I have to walk, crawl, or swipe some roller skates, I will cross that finish line.

I wish all finish lines could be so definite.  It would be such a relief to know what the future holds, and how much longer we have to keep running.  But I know our finish line is just up ahead, and with a little endurance, a lot of strength and a positive attitude, we'll get there.  And then the finish line will be just the beginning.

Poor Unfortunate Soul

It has been way too long since I blogged.  I've kept myself quite busy since my last post, and kept thinking, "I really must blog this," but now that I'm sitting down to write, I'm having trouble remembering all of the terribly interesting activities I've been getting up to.

Well, for one, I had my hysteroscopy last week, and the doctor removed a polyp from my uterus.  I'm proud to say that I have been polyp-free for four days now.  It was actually surprisingly painless, though I'm a little concerned that I may be a drug addict now.  My anesthesia was absolutely dreamy--literally, I had a wonderful dream having to do with a large Christmas tree and angels--and for 20 minutes I enjoyed the best sleep of my entire life.  I actually managed to wake up from anesthesia feeling remarkably rested.  Well, after it took 2 nurses to transport me from the procedure room to recovery.  For a minute there I felt more like I'd just downed three cosmos and a panty dropper than like I was recovering from minor surgery.
As a side-note, ever since I discovered that I may be rife with uterine polyps, I've been imagining that inside of me is a tiny reproduction of Ursula's garden of unfortunates in The Little Mermaid.  I imagined mine as a sort of greying, mustachioed little man--an unholy combination of a polyp and the Lorax.  I kind of miss him now that he's gone.

My parents were in town for the week, to ensure that I did not have any sort of anesthesia related emergencies, not the least of which included perusing the underbelly of Craigslist for enterprising doctors who may be convinced to ply me with a steady drip of propofol on a nightly basis.  They kept mentioning Michael Jackson.  I got the message loud and clear.

When we weren't spending quality family time at the fertility clinic, we managed to have a little fun out on the town.  They treated me to a mouth-wateringly delicious anniversary dinner at Hall's Chophouse in downtown Charleston, my mom and I spent a day knocking out our Christmas lists, and we even squeezed in a matinee of The Muppets.  I still tear up when I think about The Rainbow Connection number, though that may have still been the remnants of drugs giving me such a warm, glowy feeling.

They headed home on Friday, and I spent the weekend recovering from all of my non-hermit behavior with a full DVR and a new book.  I even managed to squeeze in a little money-making, babysitting for a new family with three adorable kids.

All in all, it's been a good few weeks, and my mood has been, for the most part, pretty elevated.  I feel like I've finally gotten into my deployment groove, and have somewhat acclimated to my routine of single spousehood.  Obviously, I really wish that Colby could be here for all of the holidays and, well, everything, but I'm in a pretty good place, and it seems like time is going by a little more quickly now than it did a few weeks ago.  I've still got plenty to keep me busy with my favorite hobby of uselessly stressing and fretting, but at least now when I cry I generally have a pretty good reason!

Workaholic

I've never been much of a go-getter when it comes to career aspirations.  Mainly because I've never quite figured out what sort of career actually appeals to me.  Well, scratch that, I find the prospect of being an author quite appealing, but we can all see how well that's going.

When I've had a job, I've done my best and worked my hardest to do it well, but ultimately, money was the only reason I was working, not any sense of personal satisfaction.  I wanted to have the means to do the things I like to do--go out to incredible restaurants, travel, go shopping, own pets, maintain a home that I love.  When it became apparent that we could afford to do all of those things as well as funnel money into savings and investments, I immediately became much less motivated to spend my days earning a paycheck.  I don't think that made me worthless to society--I diverted the energy I'd spent in a meaningless office job or exhausting myself wrangling kids into a graduate school, keeping our house clean and organized, improving my health through fitness and a better diet with healthier home cooked meals, and appreciated the flexibility I had to spend time with Colby when he was home.

Then came the IVF bomb, and the knowledge that our financial landscape was going to change drastically for the forseeable future.  We created a savings plan, part of which was that I would go back to earning a paycheck to soften the multi-thousand dollar blow.  My foray into babysitting has gone better than I ever could have hoped.  It's been less than three weeks since I started working, and I'm aready about one third of my way to the five month earning goal I set for myself.  I don't think that's an entirely sustainable pace, but I'm excited to be off to a stellar start.

What this is all leading up to is how my attitude toward working has changed.  I am motivated to work, not only for the paycheck, but for what that paycheck represents beyond money in the bank.  Each dollar I earn gets me closer to having a baby.  Each extra dollar that we make over our goal is second or third round of medications, an adorable crib with the perfect bedding, a precious onesie, or maybe even a second crib.

I've become entirely fixated on finding hours to work and cutting costs where ever possible.  If I'm not working, I'm scouring postings to find a job and applying to positions.  In the past, I've jetted off to visit friends or family without much thought to the cost, but when it became evident that one of the trips I had planned for the upcoming months was going to be far outside of our budget, I had to make the incredibly difficult decision to cancel.  It was hard because I am so heartbroken not to be able to visit a friend that I haven't seen in over a year, but I knew in my broken heart that it was ultimately the right decision and will get us that much closer to our goal.

I made plans to go home for three weeks over the holidays, and recently the thought of going three weeks without a job has given me severe anxiety.  But then I was offered an incredible babysitting opportunity in South Carolina for the week of New Year's, and I simply can't pass it up.  The old Angela would never have cut a vacation short and agreed to working over the holidays, but the new Angela sees it as just another step in the right direction.  The opportunity to breathe a little easier, and feel a little more financially stable.

It doesn't hurt that I'm incredibly competitive--even with myself--and when I set a goal, I feel reasonably certain I will die if I don't achieve it.

In other news, I went to see Breaking Dawn on Sunday, and it fulfilled my comedy quotient for the week.  Seriously, those telepathic werewolves.  Doesn't get much funnier than that.  I think the film's greatest achievement was how seamlessly it was able to transition from incredibly cheesy to incredibly boring to incredibly disgusting.  Well done, indeed!  The vampire baby was cute though.  Spoiler alert.

Grief

I know.  I know.  You're sitting there thinking, how many more words can this girl possibly write about infertility?  I can understand this sentiment, because quite frankly, I get sick of thinking about it myself.  I wish I could empty my brains of all the feelings and thoughts and feelings that are taking over my every waking moment.  Because, you see, there are so many feelings.

I've never been a particularly sensitive person.  This personality trait led to a great many moments of discord growing up with a mother and a sister who are more sensitive than a bundle of raw nerves.  I rarely went out of my way to be mean, but I would consistently make comments or behave in ways that branded me as "thoughtless".  As I grew older and slightly more mature I learned that it took just a little extra effort for me to be thoughtful and compassionate toward other people's feelings.  It's not that I don't ever feel sad or hurt or misunderstood--I have an entire blog category dedicated to my struggles with depression--it's just that I often have trouble communicating these feelings, or even understanding them myself, so to avoid dealing with them I pour them into a neat little bottle and pack them away into a deep, dark corner of my psyche.

So, it's not that I don't have feelings, it's just that I get very uncomfortable acknowledging or expressing my feelings in anything but writing.

But ever since it began to dawn on us that making a baby wasn't going to be quite the hey presto experience we were expecting, all of that has changed.  I am constantly feeling sad, or angry, or hopeful, or bitter, or jealous, or betrayed, or worried, or any number of other complicated emotions that I can't just power through, dash off a blog post about and carry on with my life.  I spring rapidly from one feeling to the next, leaving me with a sense of emotional whiplash.  One minute I'll be feeling optimistic or even excited about our fertility treatment plan, so then why do I suddenly want to punch that woman who is complaining about her child?  Or, I was just feeling incredibly guilty about how my anger has gotten the better of me once more, promising myself that I will find better ways to channel my emotions than through jealousy and bitterness, and now I want to write a scathing Facebook post about pregnant women who think they can just go out in public any old time walking around all PREGNANT.  Or hey, maybe we'll miraculously get pregnant in that one last cycle after Colby gets home, and then we won't have to worry about any of this!  And then I'm right back to this is all so fucking unfair, woe is meeeeeee, I hate the world today.

I never know how I'm going to feel when I wake up in the morning.  I dread falling asleep because I don't know if I can handle another dream where I discover I'm pregnant or am joyfully juggling twins, only to wake up and find myself just as babyless as ever.  There are days where I feel a sense of lightness, because we have this figured out and I am excited for the future.  Then there are days where I wonder how anybody can look at me and not see that I am falling apart.

This weekend, I somehow landed on a website detailing Kubler-Ross's Five Stages of Grief.

Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

Anyone who has taken an Intro to Psych class has seen these before, but seeing it there in writing, just as I was going through it... it was as though the clouds parted, and I had a sudden moment of clarity.  Even though I'm not mourning a death, I am going through the most classic stages of grief.  In a sense, mourning the loss of a dream.  The dream I have had since I was a little girl of growing up, falling in love, having a baby.  On my own terms.  

Is it certainly possible, even likely, that there will be a child or children at the end of this path we're on?  Yes.  But I can guarandamntee you that when I was pouring my heart out at slumber parties, none of my rosy scenarios involved painful daily hormone injections, cleaning out my savings account since my supposedly stellar insurance plan doesn't cover the one major medical procedure my body needs in order to function semi-properly because it's "elective", and creating the miracle of life in a petri dish.

The article stated that though these are the most common stages of grief, there is not necessarily a linear progression through them.  And while you may spend just a minute in one stage, you could spend days, weeks or months in another.  I suppose it's a good sign that I have, if only in the briefest of moments, flirted with feelings of acceptance.  It doesn't mean that I'm happy, or joyful about our circumstances, but I do acknowledge that it is our circumstance, whether we like it or not.

Unfortunately, I'm still spending most of my time ping ponging between anger and depression.  I feel sick to my stomach when I hear about a pregnancy.  I have countless moments of bitterness toward other mothers who express completely valid frustrations of their own.  I feel furious at an insurance company that is failing us so deplorably.  I want to scream at the unfairness of a world where a drug addict, alcoholic, or a teenager can get pregnant on accident, while a loving, financially secure, educated, mature couple has to undergo invasive medical procedures for just the glimmer of hope that an embryo might implant.  I even cringe at the merest possiblity of yet another character on tv announcing a pregnancy.  I don't go around melting down in public or punching people, but the anger and sadness is almost always there, simmering just below the surface of day to day life.

I have no doubt that this is just a miniscule taste of the emotionally and physically draining mountain that I still have to climb--I can't even think about what a mess I'm going to be when I'm hopped up on hormones and stress.  I have so many worries and fears about the path that we've set before us, and I think that the anger, while also a natural reaction to a shity situation, is a defense mechanism.  I don't know how long it will take before I land permanently on acceptance--honestly, it may be never--but I cannot give up and allow myself to be swallowed up by bitterness and anger.  I know that I have to keep going and cling desperately to whatever shreds of hope I can find.  But I have to feel my feelings.  I have to accept them as valid emotions, and let myself go through this.  Everyone tells me that at the end of the day, I will look back on this and it will all have been worth it.  It will all be worth it.

"After climbing a great hill, one only finds there are more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me and to look back on the distance I have come. But I dare not linger and can rest only for a moment, for my long walk is not ended." ~Nelson Mandela

"Hope is like a bird that senses the dawn and carefully starts to sing while it is still dark." ~Anonymous

The Impossible Dream

I'm reading Don Quixote right now, and I'm finding it surprisingly funny and touching.  I have been wanting to read it for a while because Man of La Mancha is one of my favorite musicals.  Or at least, it's one of my favorite soundtracks.  I've not yet had the chance to see it performed, but I've listened to the music while reading the libretto, and much like the book, it is both heartwarming, sad, and absurd.

So, as I make my way through the novel, I usually end up singing the music to myself as I read, and the songs get stuck on repeat in my head throughout the day.  Tonight, I decided to take a break from Christmas music to listen to the album, and when it got to The Impossible Dream, I stood frozen at the sink, hot water running, dirty pot in hand, listening to the lyrics.  Really hearing the words.

I've always thought it was a beautiful song, but as I listened this evening, my eyes filled with tears because it resonated in a new way.  It says everything I've been trying to tell myself over the past few months.  To be strong in the face of oppressive disappointment and sorrow.  To keep love alive when distance is a near constant companion.  To follow dreams into a world of fear and uncertainty in the hopes that we will come through intact.  To keep believing that despite seemingly endless setbacks, dreams can still become reality.  Clinging to those beliefs like a life raft to get myself through the bad days.

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go
To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest, to follow that star
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far
To fight for the right, without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell, for a Heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm, when I'm laid to my rest
And the world will be better for this:
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,
To reach the unreachable star.

Budgeting for Infertility

One of the most overwhelming aspects of dealing with infertility and deciding to undergo IVF is facing the staggering costs associated with the procedures.  Unfortunately, many insurance plans do not cover any fertility treatments, and as much as Tricare does cover, it does not pay for anything after a diagnosis of infertility.  Even though they pay for 100% of testing prior to a diagnosis, I have to pay room fees for my hysterosalpingogram and my hysteroscopy, as well as my anesthetist's fee, which will come to $700.  I can submit my bill from the anesthetist to Tricare and they might cover it, but I'm not holding my breath.

I've talked about some of the different options for our IVF payment, and while we're still trying to decide, I think we're leaning the most toward the $15000 charge for four cycles--two fresh and two frozen.  Yes, IVF may work on the first round, but if not, and we only paid for the cycles one at a time that would be $12000 down the drain and another $12000 for our second procedure.  These quotes were also given to us before we knew we would have to do ICSI (the doctor injects the sperm directly into the egg, instead of just putting them in a petri dish together and letting them do the work), so that may make the procedure more expensive.  On top of that, the estimate for medication is $2000-5000, and I'm planning on $5000 for budgeting purposes.

I also like to add in a little padding in case something ends up costing us more than what we were expecting, so adding in a $5000 buffer, we're looking at somewhere in the neighborhood of a $25000 hit to our savings next spring.  Although we're pretty good savers and put about 15-20% of what we make each month into savings or investments, we also just took an expensive trip to Europe, bought $3000 worth of stocks and enoyed a fairly spendy summer, all before we knew IVF was in our future.  While we do have sizeable savings, most of it is in our IRAs and various stocks and funds that we really don't want to touch until retirement.

So, looking at our savings account, I really want to save another $10000 before March.  That sounds incredibly daunting, but I've thought about it, and I think it's possible.  We'll probably get somewhere in the neighborhood of $3000 back from taxes, bringing us down to $7000.  We already put $300 a month directly into savings, and since we've refinanced our Washington house, that's an additional $200 a month that we'll be able to add--so by the end of March, that will be another $2500, leaving us with $4500 to scrounge up.

And that's where babysitting comes in.  I'm certainly not making millions, but I estimate that if my parent interviews this week go well, I'll be working about 10-15 hours a week, so by my self-imposed March deadline, I could probably save close to $2000 as a conservative estimate.  Leaving us with $2500 that will hopefully materialize just by pinching our pennies.

With Colby gone I'll be eating out less, and while I'm planning a few trips during the deployment, I'm trying to make them as cost-effective and budget friendly as possible.  I've decided to set a $50 clothing limit per month, my makeup and beauty stash has been recently replenished so I shouldn't need to spend much there.  Any money we get for birthdays or Christmas will go toward the baby fund since that's pretty much the best gift either one of us can imagine.

So, with that savings plan in place, I really think we can reach our $10000 goal, and if we're very, very good, maybe even save a bit more so that we're not entirely cleaned out by April.

Is anyone else saving for a big purchase or event?  What are your best savings tips?

State of the Uterus Address

When we last left off in this saga, I had seen a reproductive endocrinologist (RE) for an HSG to make sure all was well with my internal lady plumbing, and he informed us that while my tubes were all clear, there seemed to be something covering about 40% of my uterus--probably polyps or fibroids that will need to be removed.  He also had trouble locating as many follicles as he had hoped to find in my ovaries during an internal ultrasound, so he wanted to do a little bit more testing.

I had bloodwork for my FSH and AMH (both hormones that can help determine the quality and quantity of your ovarian reserve--eggs still present in your body and waiting to be released), and while my FSH came back on the high end of normal (you want a low number), my AMH was pretty deplorable, basically confirming what the doctor had suspected after the ultrasound.  I've got old lady ovaries.

The typical, healthy woman of my age would have 10-20 follicles at that point in each of her cycles--at my age, I should be closer to twenty.  I had eight.  And chances are good that the quality of my eggs aren't stellar, meaning that when the winning egg is released every cycle, it's just the frontrunner at the Special Egg Olympics.

Colby also had some retesting done and his analysis came back with the exact same motility and morphology as the first test (poor) and an even lower count.  So, basically, we are both defunct, and it is a surprise to exactly no one that we still haven't gotten pregnant after 14 cycles of trying to conceive.

We were desperately hoping that intrauterine insemination (IUI) would be an option for us because it is a fairly non-invasive procedure, not to mention boatloads cheaper than invitro.  However, our doctor was very clear with us that we just aren't good candidates for IUI.  Due to the process they use to retrieve the sperm and prepare it for insemination, they usually lose about half, and with Colby's low concentration and even lower count of good quality sperm, combined with my geriatric ovaries, the doctor doesn't feel that it would be effective.

So.  IVF. With ICSI.

We're still mulling over our financial options, but it's going to be terribly expensive just for the procedure, and then another $2000-5000 for medications.  I've been reading message boards and blogs about women who have gone through this, and while I'm learning a lot, it's also scaring the crap out of me.  It's painful.  It's emotionally draining.  It puts strains on marriages.  And most terrifying of all, it doesn't always work.

I'm trying very hard to stay positive about this.  With any luck, come March or April, we'll be starting down a new road that will hopefully lead us to our baby, but I just wish I could know for sure that this was going to work out, that it will all be worth it in the end.

I guess we're infertile.  Damn.

Off To A Good Start

I decided to begin this deployment as I mean to go on.  No... not crying alone in my car.  Not inhaling an entire carton of Pringles and a bag of Twizzlers in one sitting...  Maybe let's just not actually take Thursday into account at all.  But from Friday on, I was bound and determined to have a Good Weekend.

I kicked things off on Friday evening with a girls' night at a friend's house.  We ate tons of junk food, played corn hole in the dark (I still don't fully grasp that game), watched YouTube videos, and generally just helped take each others' minds off the fresh absence of our husbands.  I had intended to spend the night, but around 2 in the morning, I felt an overwhelming wave of homesickness and just wanted to be at my house.  Fortunately, I didn't have to call my mom to come pick me up--being 28 is SO much better than being six!

Saturday, I got the house in order, went for a four mile run, and made a sizeable dent in our DVR backlog.  Then, yesterday, I tried out Barsa, a tapas restaurant downtown, with a friend.  We've both been facing a lot of the same obstacles over this past year, so it's always nice to hang out and know that the other person just "gets it".  Also, the drinks and food were delicious!  I was thrilled to see "Pisco Disco" on the cocktail menu.  When I had my bachelorette weekend in New York many moons ago, we went to a swanky club where we ordered and subsequently fell in love with, Pisco Punch.  It's not a liquor I see on a menu often, but when I do I always try it out and bask in the fond memories.

I also uploaded a profile to a couple of babysitting sites, and have even booked a couple of jobs with a friend!  I'm really focused on trying to make some money over this deployment to put toward our Baby Buying Fund, and I like that with babysitting I can still retain some flexibility and make about the same hourly wage (if not more, which is pretty sad) than I would in many local office and childcare jobs.  Hopefully the jobs start trickling in soon.

This upcoming week is also pretty full, and I'm looking forward to brushing off the Alice in Wonderland costume for some Trick or Treating at the Outlets this afternoon!  Happy Halloween!!

Here I Go Again On My Own

And just like that, Colby is gone.

This deployment has been hanging over our head for about 10 months now, and yet it still managed to totally sneak up and blindside me.  I thought I was handling it so well.  I've been bracing myself for what seems like ages and almost hoping that D-Day would just get here so we could get it underway, then yesterday rolled around and I spent the whole day feeling utterly sick.  In fact, I actually think I'm handling this deployment worse than any of the previous three.  

Maybe it's because this has been such an emotionally draining year, and I expected things to be so different when this deployment rolled around.  Maybe it's because the thought of going through all of the holidays alone and then handling January and February--already my least favorite part of the year--is such a depressing thought.  Maybe it's because as much as I look forward to Colby's return home, I am dreading the coming of spring and all of the financial, emotional and physical stress that we'll have to face in our journey toward parenthood.  But any way I justify it, I can't remember feeling this bleak in the face of ~120 days apart.

Our first deployment was when I was still living in Arkansas, so I wasn't able to go to the deployment drop off.  The second deployment, Colby was on something called an Advon team--a small group of the squadron who leaves a few days early to arrive at the deployed location and make sure everything is set up properly and ready for the transition--so I did go to drop him off.  However, there were only a few other families present and one of my fellow spouse friends was a maintenance officer so we were actually able to go out on the plane to say goodbye to our husbands thanks to her connections.  Then last year, I left for Japan the day before the deployment, so my mind was distracted from the initial few days of his absence.  So last night was the first time I went to drop Colby off at the terminal, Hollywood movie style, and it was dreadful.

We walked into that room and everything felt wrong.  The lights were too bright.  The faces were pinched.  What laughter we did hear sounded forced and too loud.  People were sitting or standing around in small clusters, some staring blankly ahead, some trying too hard to pretend everything was totally normal.  It was terrible.  We dragged all of Colby's bags in, then immediately escaped back outside to say our goodbyes.  I can't imagine how other spouses stay there for hours waiting for the blade to fall.

 I think we were both trying to put on a brave face, but even Colby seemed more shaken up by this deployment than by others.  I struggled to stay calm, but couldn't help a few tears sneaking out, then as soon as he was gone, the dam broke.  It actually felt amazing to just let myself sob like an infant for a little while, and when I got home I consoled myself with a night of junk food and Project Runway (although the outcome of that only made me sadder), and eventually got to sleep.

Tonight I'm going to a friend's house to drink wine and eat junk food with some other girls, and I have dinner plans for Sunday.  I'm already counting down to my parents visiting in three weeks, and as much as we're pinching our pennies right now, I've worked a few trips out to visit friends into our budget and a nice long visit home for Christmas.  I know that I'll get through this, and we'll be that much stronger at the end of it.  I'm so, so incredibly proud of what Colby does, and cannot imagine my life any other way.  But oh... this just blows.

Gets Me Down, Picks Me Up

Lately things have been pretty up and down for me.  One minute I'm super excited and pumped up about life, the next I'm crushed and sad and certain I will never smile again (that may be a hyperbole for dramatic effect).

What's getting me down and picking me back up?

Down: Every time we do more fertility testing we get more bad news.  Now the doctor is saying I may have polyps or fibroids in my Ute Monster and he needs to do another expedition, this time with a camera, to go in there and check things out and possibly remove anything that could be on my lining.
Up: My fallopian tubes are super duper clear, so A+ tubies!  You're the first organs doing ANYTHING right in this whole process!

Down: I'm still bummed that Apple didn't release the iPhone 5 this go round since I've been waiting over a year to upgrade to it.
Up: The 4S is still miles, ages, and gallons better than the 1st generation iPhone I've been using since 2007.  It's still serviceable, but it is so slow and I've been scared to update the IOS for years in case it grinds to a halt.  I'm mainly looking forward to finally being able to download the Pinterest app!

Down: Soooo much driving this weekend.
Up: But all that driving means that we'll get to see our Tigers play and see our families.  Plus, I get to subject Colby to hours and hours of audiobooks--woo!

Down: The value of our house in Washington has dropped even more in recent months.  Every time we think it can't get any worse--IT DOES.
Up: We're closing on a refinancing on the WA house in a little over a week that will bring our monthly mortgage down a couple hundred dollars, and every time I check comps for our SC house it shows that the value has risen significantly since we bought.  Please, please let that be true and hold out for at least another year!

Down: Today is Colby's last day of work before the deployment.  This is becoming ALLLLL too real.
Up: I'm sure there's something good about this, but I can't think of it.

Oh, I Know: 120+ days of being able to sleep with the bottoms of the sheets tucked in!

What have been your ups and downs this week?

Infertility Information Overload

We met with our reproductive endocrinologist (RE) for the first time yesterday.  We were incredibly impressed with his knowledge and his level of detail while still explaining things to us in a way that we could understand.  We were also incredibly overwhelmed with the amount of information we came away with from our appointment.

Part of our meet n' greet was an internal ultrasound to check out the state of my Lovely Lady Lumps: Ovary Edition.  Let me tell you, there are few things in life more awkward than spreading your legs in a miniscule room with a doctor, a nurse, an intern, and your husband gazing at your reproductive organs rendered in fuzzy black and white.  Except for maybe the act of giving birth.  I'll consider this training.

Unfortunately, we came away from that experience with less than optimal news than what the doctor on base indicated when he said that my test results looked "good".  Our RE was only able to locate eight follicles, instead of the 10-20 that he explained most non-reproductively challenged women would have.  He thinks my reproductive organs might be a little farther along in the aging process than they should be, but he also pointed out that some of the follicles may have just been hidden by a cyst that was also present on one of my ovaries.  I'll do some more testing this month and we'll reassess when we get that information.

Colby will also repeat his testing to make sure he wasn't just having a bad day, and will visit a urologist at the end of this month to rule out any physical issues.  Despite what some anonymous commenters may believe, we do not find this embarrassing, shameful or in any way detrimental to his status as a man.  In fact, male factor infertility is the sole cause for 20% of couples facing infertility and a contributing cause to 30-40%.  I'll bet that seems like a pretty high number to you.  Know why you didn't know that?  Because no one talks about it.  Because they are worried about reactions just like ones we've faced.  

Ability to reproduce is not the measure of a man or woman, it is not a reflection of how good or frequent the sex is--as our doctor put it yesterday, it is simply an egg meeting the sperm through some sort of delivery system.  If you're fortunate enough to be one of those lucky people who has been able to conceive easily, please don't think that those of us who aren't so fortunate are somehow embarrassed or consider ourselves to be "less than" in any way.  We wouldn't be ashamed if our kidneys didn't function properly, or if our blood sugar didn't regulate properly, so why on earth would infertility be any different? /Tangent

We were also given two huge packets outlining our Intrauterine Insemination (IUI) and Invitro Fertilization (IVF) options, including how the procedure works and a breakdown of all the costs.  Tricare doesn't cover any treatment after a diagnosis of infertility, so with the exception of some monitoring costs which are covered, everything will be out of pocket.  Each round of IUI will cost in the neighborhood of $1200, and depending on which IVF package is chosen, it will cost anywhere from $11,000-20,000--neither of those numbers include meds which we would purchase separately and can cost from $200-400 for IUI and $2000-4000 for IVF.

Enter sticker shock.

So, that's where we are now.  Our doctor is confident that by the time Colby leaves for his deployment, we'll have a plan and will be ready to go ahead with either IUI or IVF when he returns home in the Spring.  Obviously, none of this is ideal.  We joke about it as a defense mechanism, because it is absolutely the most terrifying, heartbreaking, unfair situation we've ever faced.  We are overwhelmed, not only by all of the physical demands of these procedures, but also the staggering costs.  I find myself on the verge of tears throughout the day, any time I think about our options, hence the joking to make the scariness a little more bearable.

We were saying last night that our doctor had better include some kind of academic screening to only pick the smart sperm, because that kiddo is going to be spending any potential college funds just being conceived.  We're going to need some scholarship-level brainiacs.  Either that or a reality tv show.  What do you think:  Angela & Colby + Embryo.  That could work!

The Thorn Bush

Instead of complaining that the rosebush is full of thorns, be happy that the thorn bush has roses.
~ German Proverb

Last week we got the results back from Colby's fertility testing.  The good news is that now we know why we haven't been able to get pregnant over the course of the last 13 cycles.  The bad news is that we're facing male factor infertility.  Being that this is Colby's diagnosis, I don't feel comfortable elaborating further. This is a topic that I am much more open about than he is, and that he has only begrudgingly accepted me posting about here knowing that it helps me to process our journey.  Suffice it to say, it is not wholly impossible for us to become pregnant naturally, but the chances of it happening are very low.

Also in the good news department, I finally got my test results back, and everything looks good on my end.  All I need now is my hysterosonogram to make sure I don't have any blockages, but it looks like all systems are go in my tiny human incubator.  This is comforting in that I feel a lot more optimistic about our treatment possiblities being that my hormones and eggs all seem to be doing what they're supposed to do.

I've felt a little distanced from our situation since we got the results back last week.  I think it's because we're in something of a holding pattern until Colby visits a urologist and we get a better idea of what the next steps might be.  Since we only have one cycle left before the deployment, I've essentially accepted as fact that at the earliest, we may be able to conceive next Spring.  I almost feel a sense of relief knowing that all of my worries were justified and that we are getting so much closer to getting the help that we need to get our baby.

A very wise friend shared the quote above on Facebook recently, and it was exactly the kick in the pants I needed to readjust my thinking.  I've spent a lot of time lately moping about the fact that life didn't go our way.  That we haven't been able to get pregnant, and now that we are getting answers we're going to have to be patient while Colby is overseas.  I certainly have recognized the good parts of my life, but they have not been my focus.  I've been dwelling on the negatives and even resenting the positives because they aren't my first choice.

I would rather have a baby than to go out drinking with my girlfriends.  I would rather have a baby than to travel abroad.  I would rather have a baby than to be able to display breakable items on child-height shelves.  I would rather have a baby than spend my Saturdays catching up on new Fall premieres.  I would rather have a baby than spend money on new clothes and shoes.

But that is not my reality.

My thorny reality right now is that I do not have a baby.  So instead of focusing on that, I will better appreciate the roses that are in my life.  The amazing friends and family that listen and support me.  That we have the freedom to travel and watch television uninterrupted and read a book in silence.  That I can splurge on new sweaters and a to-die-for pair of boots instead of diapers and onesies.

Are those things my first choice?  No.  But that doesn't make them any less wonderful in their own right.  We are not without hope.  Now, even more than six months ago, I can see a family in our future and feel the excitement again rather than dreading each upcoming month that ends in disappointment.  Our journey is far from over, but instead of focusing on the pain of the thorn prick, I'll stick a bandaid on it and enjoy the life that I do have.  Because it's not perfect, but it's mine.  Thorns, roses and all.

So Much More Complicated Than It Needs To Be

I am absolutely at my wits end.  I am supposed to be getting answers, making a plan, learning what it is that we're up against.  Instead, I feel like a dog spinning around endlessly chasing my tail.

As I mentioned in a previous post, this cycle we started our fertility testing.  I went in two weeks ago and had my blood drawn for the cycle day 3 labs, Colby gave his... erm... sample on the 25th.  We have still been unable to track down any of the results from any of the tests.  In both cases the lab at one location was supposed to send the results to a doctor at another location, and instead I've been ping ponging back and forth between nurses who tell me they've not received any labs, or that they've faxed labs, or that from their end they aren't able to access my information.  I am about this close to ripping out all of my hair.  At this rate, I'll be going in to do my second blood draw for my next labs before we've gotten any information about our first.

I know that I'm incredibly lucky to have decent health insurance that is, for the most part at this stage, taking good care of us and covering our quest to become parents.  But it is so frustrating when one hand doesn't talk to the other hand.

Because of our level of coverage, I have to have all of my labwork done on base, but because the base no longer provides GYN services, I see a doctor off-base.  Colby did his testing at a fertility center because the base doesn't run that lab, but sees a doctor on base.  And in each case, it seems as though Colby and I are the only people who give two hoots about where exactly in the ether our results may be floating.

On top of that, it's impossible to just pick up the phone, make a call and speak with an actual person.  In each instance that I need to speak with a nurse at either the base or my OB's office, I have to work my way through a labryntine maze of "press 1 for this, press 3 for that" and then at the end of it all, leave a message and wait hours (usually a full day) for a return call.

Yesterday, I had a long conversation with my on-base nurse about how she had faxed over my lab results and how she needed to speak with my off-base doctor about where I would get my HSG done so that Tricare would cover it.  It seemed like finally everything was under control.  This morning, I got a call from my off-base doctor's nurse asking me where I was going to get my HSG done because my on-base nurse needed to know.  OH MY GOD.  THIS IS NOT MY JOB.  Oh, and according to my charts, they hadn't received any lab results.

I understand that I'm hardly the first person to have to go through this annoyance.  I know that a few days isn't going to change the results or change anything about how my body works, but I just want to know.  Knowing that there are answers out there, and I just can't get my hands on them is absolutely infuriating.

Not to mention, I'm afraid to do anything (go to the gym, take a shower) that will take me away from my phone, on the off chance that one of the nurses will call me, I'll miss it, and be sentenced to yet another day of leaving a message and waiting for the phone to ring.

And with that, I'm off... to wait for the phone to ring.

Happy and Healthy

I don't even know where to begin talking about the last few days.  I've had Colby with me, I've gotten to cuddle a baby, we've gotten piles and piles of much needed rain... it has been so good.  A lot of my focus lately has been centered on the part of my life that isn't going the way I want.  Nine months ago, I thought that I would have a baby either in my arms right now, or soon to be arriving.  The past couple of months have been extremely difficult in that regard.  It's a challenge reconciling my expectations with reality.  That being said, all is NOT sadness in my life.  The moments of sadness are there, but overall, I am so lucky with the lot that I've been dealt.

I suppose in the wise words of Maria von Trapp, let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.  Friday, Colby got home from a week in New Mexico and Colorado where he'd had a fun hiking, camping, and fishing trip with one of his oldest friends.  That night, we met a friend at the incredible Ted's Butcherblock for one of their delicious $12 dinners and $5 wine tastings.  I seriously think these Friday night dinners are the best deal going in Charleston.  On Friday, we had delicious curried pork in a sort of falafel/meatball combination, served over eggplant, a pita and drizzled with tzaziki, with a bean salad on the side.  Dessert was a huge slab of carrot cake with a creme anglaise, and I could have eaten about ten more servings of it--it was just that good.

On Saturday, we went over to another friend's house so that we could meet her precious, perfect 1-week-old baby boy.  He is still at that limp noodle stage of infancy that terrifies me so much, because they just feel so BREAKABLE, but I managed to hold him without crushing him, and then died at the cuteness of Colby cuddling him as well.  It was admittedly a little bittersweet, but I am just so happy for my friend, and so excited to have a new baby in my life to watch grow over the years.  After baby time, we finally got around to seeing Bridesmaids, and we both got some much needed laughs.

Sunday was a relaxing chill day, just catching up on the DVR.  This week, Colby has been getting off work early, so we've been enjoying our evenings together.  Ever since the cleanse, I've been on quite a healthy eating kick (combined with a little Ben & Jerry's because I had to try Late Night Snack--CHOCOLATE COVERED POTATO CHIPS, people!), so we've been cooking up some tasty meals, I've been keeping up with my workouts, and I've discovered the most delicious way to incorporate fruits and vegetables into my daily routine--Green Monsters!  I just toss some flax seeds, a couple big handfulls of spinach, a banana, and some chocolate soy milk into a blender and liquify.  Then chop in some ice, and voila, chocolate banana smoothie.  It is SO GOOD, and I've been drinking one every day for my afternoon snack.

So, that's been my week, not all ups, but certainly not all downs either.  I'm working very hard to focus on all of the good in my life, and not take it for granted.  Unfortunately, Colby is leaving today for a work trip, but he'll be home in less than two weeks, and then we'll be heading off somewhere for almost three weeks of togetherness away from home.  Life is good.  I could complain, but today, I won't.

The Next Step

Fair warning: This post and future posts will be following my adventures in babymaking--not from an R rated perspective, but from the advanced biology aspect.  If you aren't comfortable with or interested in this topic, I totally understand and you should turn back now.  Be aware that I might be using scary words like uterus and sperm--so consider yourself warned! I know that this won't be interesting to everyone--it wouldn't have been interesting to me a year ago--but I hope that by sharing my experiences here I will not only be documenting my experience for my own benefit, but that maybe I can help someone else who might be going through this as well.

This weekend was filled with so much amazingness.  Colby came home early from a trip, so we were able to spend the whole weekend together before he left me for another week, the weather was stunningly beautiful and I took advantage of it by going to the farmer's market, the beach, and otherwise spending most of the weekend outside.  

Then, Sunday night, I went to the bathroom and all of the happiness came crashing down around me when I saw that the dreaded spotting had begun.  For the first time in this entire journey, I completely broke down.  I've had teary moments, I've vented here on the blog, I've had days of intense sadness and disappointment, but that night I ugly cried into Colby's shirt for almost an hour, wailing by turns about how unfair it was and how discouraged I feel.  He was amazing, saying all the right things, wiping my face, mostly just holding on and letting me cry until I ran out of sobs.

The one glimmer of optimism that still shines in the darkest recesses of my mind, is that we are beginning testing this cycle.  The common thinking is that it can take a healthy couple up to a year to get pregnant, so many doctors won't begin testing until cycle/month twelve.  However, when I went to the gynecologist for my annual exam last month, I explained my concerns (specifically my short cycles/short luteal phase) and that we've had perfect timing for 10 out of those 11 cycles (something of a miracle with Colby's trip schedule) and we still arent any closer to having our baby.

Fortunately for me, I got one of those great doctors who actually listens to your concerns, and makes decisions on a case by case basis rather than always going "by the book" regardless of the situation.  Her take on it was that there was no reason to wait another two cycles to begin testing given our past history, and the fact that I am very knowledgeable about my cycles and we've been hitting ovulation on the nose since November.

This month, I'll be having blood work done on cycle day (CD) 3 (tomorrow) and CD 22.  I'm also waiting on a referral from Tricare to have an HSG done.  From what I've gathered through extensive internet research (I googled it and read the first result), CD 3 blood work checks your Follicle Stimulating Hormone (the hormone responsible for egg maturation), Estradiol (high levels can indicate an ovarian cyst or low egg reserve), and Luteinizing Hormone (levels can indicate PCOS).  You want your FSH low, Estradiol low, and an LH:FSH ration of less than 2:1 or 3:1. The CD 22 blood work seems to mainly check progesterone levels and confirms ovulation.  After charting for eight cycles, I'm reasonably certain I ovulate, but I'm very curious to learn what my progesterone levels are.

The HSG, or hysterosalpingogram, is a little bit more scary as from what I understand it's more painful/uncomfortable than just having a needle jabbed in my arm.  In this procedure, dye will be injected into my uterus and fallopian tubes and the surrounding areas to make sure that nothing is blocked and all of the baby making ingredients are able to get where they need to go.  And of course, Colby gets to endure the most awkward testing experience, I'm sure I don't need to go into much detail on that procedure, but it will give us information about his sperm quantity, motility and morphology.

So, that's where we are now.  I don't know how long it will take to get the results back from each of these tests, but hopefully soon we'll have an explanation for why things aren't working out for us in the baby arena, and a plan for going forward.  As for now, I'm just trying to find the bright side of things like the fact that I've got at least another month of wine-drinking in my future.  Would I rather have a baby than a buzz?  of course.  But the the buzz sure doesn't hurt.

I Don't Know How

I don't know how I'm supposed to keep doing this month after month.

I don't know how people go through so much worse than this and come out on the other side.

Everything looked so good on paper this cycle.  Sustained high temeratures.  A lengthy (for me) luteal phase.  A beautiful temperature spike yesterday morning.  For most of you, all of that is pretty meaningless, but to anyone who has charted cycles, you'll recognize all of those symptoms as good signs.  I'll admit I was daydreaming about how I would tell Colby when he got home from his trip.  Maybe a cutesy "Happy Late Father's Day" gift.  Who would I tell early, and how would I manage to keep quiet for the next two months?

And then this morning, it was all over.  Again.

I'm onto cycle ten.  It has been eight months since we started this journey.  As much as I was nervous about the possibility that I wouldn't get pregnant quickly, I never thought that I would be in this place.  Even at month three, when it started to dawn on me that this wouldn't be an overnight success, I was scared, but nothing compared to this deep, gutwrenching sense of hopelessness.

If it hasn't happened by now, why will next month be any different?

I know that's a defeatist attitude.  And that it could very well happen on the next cycle, or the one after that.  But that is a very hard thing to hold onto after this many failures.

On top of the sadness I'm feeling over our inability to concieve (so far), I feel constant guilt.  I feel guilt because people DO go through so much worse than this, and seem to do it with so much more grace and goodwill than I can muster in my situation.  I feel guilty because my life is so good--I have an amazing, supportive husband, I live in a beautiful home in a beautiful city, I have stellar friends and a loving family, we are financially secure, I am educated, I have my health--and yet all I can feel 50% of the time is sadness about this very specific aspect of my life.  I feel badly because I am so, so envious of all of my pregnant friends, even though I try to remind myself that we all have our trials and I don't know what anyone else has gone through to get where they are in their own life.

I don't feel proud of any of those feelings.  But they are there.

So, I'm moving on to a fresh opportunity.  Maybe this month the stars will align and I'll have a miracle.  This week will be the worst, but maybe by next week I will have rediscovered my optimism.  And even if I don't, I know that I will get through this, and I can get through worse.  

Because this is something I want so desperately.  And the more the universe tells me that I can't have it, the more I'm determined that somehow, someway, I WILL have my baby in my arms.  Because beneath all of the sadness, hopelessness, guilt, and heartache, at the very root of my soul I am as stubborn as an elderly mule.  And I am not a person to give up this easily.  So no, I don't know how I'll keep doing this month after month.  But I know I will.

Nine

"Each month I watch for blood, fearfully, for when it comes it means failure.  I have failed once again to fulfill the expectations of others, which have become my own.

"I used to think of my body as an instrument, of pleasure, or a means of transportation, or an implement for the accomplishment of my will.  I could use it to run, push buttons of one sort or another, make things happen.  There were limits, but my body was nevertheless lithe, single, solid, one with me.

"Now the flesh arranges itself differently.  I'm a cloud, congealed around a central object, the shape of a pear, which is hard and more real than I am and glows red within its translucent wrapping.  Inside it is a space, huge as the sky at night and dark and curved like that, though black-red rather than black.  Pinpoints of light swell, sparkle, burst and shrivel within it, countless as stars.  Every month there is a moon, gigantic, round, heavy, an omen.  It transits, pauses, continues on and passes out of sight, and I see despair coming towards me like famine.  To feel that empty, again, again.  I listen to my heart, wave upon wave, salty and red, continuing on and on, marking time."

The Handmaids Tale
Margaret Atwood

National Infertility Awareness Week

I know this blog is teetering dangerously close to being all empty uterus all the time, but I have always written about my life in the moment with very little censorship, and this is happens to be the central issue in my world at this point.  I also feel very strongly that the tabboos associated with trying to conceive are increcibly antiquated and am on a personal mission to break through those bonds of silence that so many women who have difficulty conceiving place upon themselves.  April 24 through April 30 is National Infertility Awareness Week, and I wanted to take this opportunity to talk openly about many of the stereotypes and stigmas associated with conceiving. 

I want to clarify that I have not received a diagnosis of infertility and I hope very much that I never will.  We have been trying to get pregnant for seven cycles--six with perfect timing--and a woman is only diagnosed with infertility after she has been actively trying with good timing for 12 months or 12 cycles.  So, there is a very good chance that I will never have to go through the emotional hearbreak that a woman with the diagnosis of infertility will go through.  However, I read an article on Parents.com, "7 Myths About Infertility", and I felt that it easily could have been retitled "7 Myths about Conception".  You can read about all seven myths on the website, and I encourage you to do so, but I want to talk about the few that hit home the hardest to me.

Myth 1:  It's easy for most women to get pregnant.

I confess that I personally believed this before trying to conceive.  I had a niggling sense of worry, but I honestly believed that after a month of trying, I would be pregnant.  It is unfortunate that women are so poorly educated about their reproductive system and how absolutely miraculous it is that all of the necessary occurences take place for an egg to become fertilized, implant in the womb and develop into a healthy fetus.  I've mentioned this before, but it bears repeating: A healthy couple, under 35 years of age, with NO medical issues and perfect timing has only a 20% chance of conceiving each cycle.  Twenty percent!

We all think of the women in our circles who became pregnant immediately, or even on accident, but the sad fact is that women who do have trouble conceiving often don't discuss their struggles, keeping it a secret even from their immediate family and closest friends.  Maybe if we all became more educated about reproduction, a little more sensitive to how to react when a friend or family member does share their struggle, women wouldn't feel as though they were trapped alone with a dirty secret.

Myth 3: Infertility is a psychological--not physical--problem.

I suspect that if you were to take a poll of women who have spent 6 months or more trying to get pregnant, they would pretty unanimously agree that the absolute most ignorant, insensitive response they have received when they've discussed difficulty conceiving is to "just relax".  It is absolutely infuriating, because it places the responsibility for conception squarely on the woman's shoulders, implying that a level of stress (that is certainly unavoidable when you are having difficulty conceiving) is the factor keeping that woman from becoming pregnant.

Yes, it is true that high levels of stress or illness can delay ovulation as the body involuntarily works to protect the egg and release it in only the optimal environment.  However, if a woman has educated herself on her body, confirms ovulation through charting or medical monitoring, understands her cycles and recognizes that ovulation is not the problem, then frankly stress or worry has little to do with conception.  Indicating that the woman can do anything about whether the egg fertilizes and implants is incredibly hurtful and unrealistic.

We all know that person who has been trying to get pregnant for ages, then went on vacation and voila!  Baby!  But I can pretty much guarantee you it had nothing to do with the level of relaxation and much more to do with increased sex, good timing, and just finally hitting that 20% chance of success.  I've been on multiple vacations with Colby in the past six months.  What does that tell you?

Myth 4: Couples who "work" hard enough at having a baby, will eventually get pregnant.

Personally, this assumption comes in only second to "just relax" in the level of annoyance it sparks in me.  If people knew just how hard we've worked at having a baby, they probably would think we've gone beyond the pale.  I use ovulation prediction kits, I confirm ovulation and track my luteal phase through charting (checking my Basal Body Temperature and yes, my cervical mucus), I've researched the optimal positions, I've tried drinking green tea, pomegranate juice, I take a prenatal vitamin, multiple supplements, think positive thoughts.  If it came down to hard work, we would be pregnant six times over at this point.  Probably with triplets.

Unfortunately, particularly to a goal oriented person like me, that's just not the way conception works.  All I can do is work to make my body a healthy, supportive environment for any fertilized eggs that want to come my way, and hope for the best.  Everything I do is only upping my chances of having that perfect moment, and even then I'll still have only a 20% chance of all of the factors aligning and resulting in two lines on a pregnancy test.  So please, not that I think you would, but never imply or think "Maybe if you worked a little harder" or joke that "You just must not be doing it right!".

I think the best advice I can give anyone is to never assume that your own experiences are indicative of anyone else's experience.  If you became pregnant easily, don't assume it's the same for everyone.  If you struggled to conceive or dealt/deal with infertility, don't hold it against others who do become pregnant.  The greatest piece of advice I ever received, when having a difficult moment after discovering that another friend had become pregnant while we still tried and tried, was to remember that there is not a quota of babies that come into this world.  When someone else gets pregnant she is not taking my baby away from me.  It's not reducing my chances of becoming pregnant.  And she may well have had her share of struggles getting there as well.  

My baby is still somewhere in my future, and whatever path life takes me down will lead me there.  Whether my child comes from my body or from China, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will become a mother some day.  And that is NOT a myth.

The Wait

From the very beginning, nothing in my relationship with Colby has gone according to any sort of "schedule" that I've tried to impose.  From the first few tentative months of dating but not dating, to the next difficult on and off years of maintaining a serious relationship long distance, I've always had to accept that my time line is simply out the window.  There were many times I thought it would never work out.  That things were ending or were over for good.  That as much as I saw a future with him, maybe it just wasn't meant to be.  But I should have had more faith, because here we are, almost nine years later, and things between us couldn't be better.

You'd think I would have learned something from that experience.

Deciding that we would have a baby was a no brainer.  We've both always known that we wanted to be parents someday.  When I was a little girl, I didn't dream of a high powered career, I dreamed of raising children.  So, it was never an "if" it was a "when".  And when we both confessed that we had suddenly found ourselves ready for that step so much earlier than we'd initially planned, it seemed meant to be.  Finally, something in our relationship that we were both ready for at the same time.  That held no drama or heartache as one or the other of us dreamed of a baby while the other held out for years longer.

And yet, here we are, 6 months later, and still we wait.  We wait and wait, and the waiting never gets any easier.

Today, we move into our seventh cycle of trying for a baby.  And I am having a really hard time maintaining any semblance of positivity.  I have learned how to pay very close attention to what my body is doing.  I spend the day, constantly staring at my chart, wondering where we are going wrong.  Our timing is perfect.  I eat and drink and take supplements all to enhance our chances of conceiving.  I exercise regularly.  We're young, healthy, vital people.  My cycles are on the short side, but regular, with a clear sign of ovulation.  We are doing everything in our power to make this baby happen, and nothing ever changes.

I can't help but ask, "Why?  Don't I deserve a baby just as much as anyone else?"

But what I am coming to realize is that babies aren't something that are "deserved".  Babies come to women who are not emotionally or physically ready for them.  They come to women who do not want them.  They come to teenagers or drug abusers or alcoholics.  Babies are not gifts for a life well lived.  The ability to create life is not a reward for making the right decisions and being a "good" person.  They are simply a scientific phenomenon in which sperm meets egg and life begins.  And that science pays no attention to a universal, purely human sense of what is right and just.

And yet, I still sit alone, wondering why it is that so many other women are given the responsibility of parenthood when it is not something that they asked for or even wanted, and why it is that two people who so desperately want and are prepared for that responsibility can't have it.  There is nothing fair about it.

There is nothing fair about life.  I know that full well.  What I do know is that I am lucky.  I am lucky that I have my health, and that I have loving and supportive family and friends.  I am lucky that I have a roof over my head, food to eat, leisure time, adorable dogs, a full life.

If only there were some guarantee, some assurance that some day, I will be able to conceive.  If that were the case, I could wait.  I could be patient.  It is the not knowing that wears me down day after day.  The elation when a month seems particularly promising followed by a despair that really can't be put into words when that promise turns into defeat.  The dreams of nursery decor, birthing plans, and tiny socks--all wiped away for yet another month.

I try to be strong, knowing how much worse it could be.  Knowing that there are others who have struggled with this for so much longer than I have and have so much more pain in their lives.  I remind myself, there is still time.  It could happen for you this month, or next.  Be happy for another month to drink wine and sleep in late.  Don't give up hope and don't blame yourself.

There is time.  There is so much time.  But the waiting.  Well, it's the hardest part.

The Anti-Announcement

There are approximately 6 million pregnancies ever year in the United States.

2.1 million women of the same age range are considered “infertile” (unable to become pregnant naturally over the course of 12 months).

An average woman in her mid-20s with excellent reproductive health has approximately a 20-25% chance of becoming pregnant each cycle.

The average couple in their mid-20s will try for five cycles before conceiving.

On average, 20% of couples do not get pregnant in their first year of trying. 95% succeed within two years.

If you had asked me six months ago how a woman conceives, I would have told you step 1) toss out the contraceptives, step 2) get it on till the break of dawn with your main squeeze, step 3) pee on a stick, step 4) baby.

Today, I could give an impromptu presentation on Basal Body Temperature, cervical mucous, various positions that could increase the odds of conceiving, how charting can improve a woman’s understanding of her cycle, what supplements can prolong the luteal phase, and the evils of a blue dye pregnancy test.

Essentially, now I realize how absolutely ignorant I was about how the reproductive system actually functions and what a miracle it is that anyone gets pregnant EVER. If you think you learned anything in that 2-week long unit on Human Reproduction in your high school Health class, I expect you’ve also got a lot to learn.

Six months ago, I thought you either got pregnant or you were infertile. I didn’t think about this secret group of women who were on a long journey of just “trying”. That despite the informal poll I conducted in my head of all the people I knew who went off birth control and got pregnant overnight, statistics show that there is a silent majority who spent months and months on the process before they finally got those two pink lines. It’s just that no one likes to talk about that part.

After one month of trying unsuccessfully, we were disappointed, but still optimistic. Two months in, and my optimism began to wilt. Three months in, I was charting my brains out and “trying” was verging on a military operation. As we enter the fourth month, it’s becoming increasingly difficult not to obsess, and the beginning of every cycle has become an enormous kick in the gut. Particularly when my body has decided to get its jollies by faking pregnancy symptoms like the past three months of near constant nausea and the joys of tender and swollen boobs post-(alleged) ovulation.

I’ve struggled with how much I want to publicly share this journey. It’s certainly a very private struggle for most women, and I think every woman who wants to have children, has this dream of blushingly and joyously announcing to an unexpecting world, that she is pregnant. That biology hasn’t failed her. That conceiving was a magical, dreamlike experience. Not that she cried every time she had to mark the start of a new cycle on a new chart. That she peed on seventeen sticks over the course of a particularly promising week. That she choked down horse-tranquilizer sized supplements on a daily basis. That she spent almost every evening with her hips elevated, hoping fervently that this time it would take.

That every month it didn’t work, and another friend announced her pregnancy, she bought a gift for a baby shower, or held an infant in her arms, she didn’t feel like a complete failure as a woman. Knowing that others have had to endure much greater trials, but recognizing that at a certain point, they probably also clung desperately to the same dwindling hope as she does that this month will be different.

But I feel compelled to share this experience. That there needs to be a voice saying, no, not every woman gets pregnant just from being in the same room as her husband and that is normal. Sometimes it takes time. If you are feeling this sense of defeat, and the world is telling you to “just relax”, you are not alone. I am not alone.

I would never equate what we are going through right now to the struggles of infertility. I know, and hope against hope, chances are good that we just need a few more months and we too will be making our joyful announcement. If it’s true that the average couple spends five cycles trying to conceive, we’re still well inside the window of “average”. But I also know that every month that ticks by puts us closer and closer to a frightening diagnosis. That something real might be wrong. Something that might not be fixable. Something that I’ve been afraid of since the moment I realized some women just can’t make babies.

I’ve spent so many years doing everything within my power to not get pregnant—cooing over other people’s little bundles of joy, then returning thankfully to my child-free life with my freedom to travel, plan a last minute date night, sleep in all day on a weekend, spend a rainy day with a book and silence. I don’t regret a single day of the past years that Colby and I have had to be selfish and to worry only about our own wants and needs. I treasure that time, and every day that goes by without a baby is another day that we can focus on strengthening our own relationship and relishing that freedom. But there is a bitter irony in the fact that for so long we tried so hard not to have a baby, and now that it’s what we want it has become such a struggle.

In a perfect world, this week I would be sitting down right now to write a sappy, but heartfelt, post announcing how thrilled Colby and I are to be entering the second trimester of a pregnancy. Instead, there is this. My truth. Still somewhere deep below all of the pessimism, there is that belief that our time will come. Maybe this month. Maybe next month. Maybe in a year. And the slimmest of silver linings is that now we know for certain, when our time comes, we will be two of the happiest, most thankful, and excited future parents the world has ever known. And I know in my heart that all of this sadness, frustration and disappointment will have been so worth it.