News from Nicaragua

      My husband called me at work today. In the 14 months I have been at this job, he has never called me on my work phone (he calls me on my cell, which I cannot answer at work). He says he doesn’t like having to dial my extension. Whatever. So, Flaco called me today and said, “I have some bad news.” My first thought was something terrible happened to one of his family members in Nicaragua. “What?!” I cried breathlessly (well, really I cried, “Qué pasó?!” because we were speaking in Spanish, but I figure this story will have a lot more significance with the given audience if I do the translating). Flaco’s brother, closest in age (he is 22) – we shall call him Tica, since he has been living in Costa Rica and the Costa Ricans are Ticas (the Nicaraguans are Nicas) – is planning to go back to Costa Rica perhaps next week. He just arrived back to the small farming village in Nicaragua last Monday, with the intention of beginning a new business with my husband. Tica was going to add-on to the family’s house and open a hair cutting salon. The first in this small community. But, he spent the money he saved from working in Costa Rica on fixing the family’s motorbike and now has nothing to add, financially, to the business. I was angry because I felt like Tica just expects my husband to fork over the start-up cash and then he will reap the benefits. Flaco said Tica will make his final decision on Monday, if he will stay or if he will return to Costa Rica.
     Then, Flaco says, “And I have more bad news.” Does this man not believe in giving any good news following bad news?! “May got married this past Saturday.” (May is the name I have chosen for his sister – really they all have interesting “Nica” names). HOLD THE PHONE!!! She did WHAT?! May is only 19 years old! And she was going to school – beyond high school! When we were down visiting I had a long, long talk with her about waiting to get married (since all her girlfriends have gotten married and have had babies) and to finish school first. She told me she broke up with her past boyfriend because he was pressuring her to get married and she wanted to finish high school first. May is the only child in my husband’s family of 5 to have gotten a high school education (the younger two are still in school, but not showing much gumption to study and excel). I was so incredibly proud of her because in order to get her diploma, she had to learn to ride the motorbike 30 minutes one-way into town every day because there is no high school in their community. Before she could do that, she had to study on the weekends for over a year to prepare. And right after high school, she was offered a scholarship to study agri-business at the local community college because she was one of the top in her class. And now she is throwing it all away to run off with some young guy. Don’t get me wrong, he is nice enough and seems to genuinely care for her, but he is only 20-21 himself and he doesn’t have a job (other than butchering his parents cattle on the weekends and selling the meat). I am just furious with her. And, I am also a little hurt. Like my words of encouragement meant nothing to her. She didn’t even call us to tell us herself or to tell us ahead of time (to be fair, “getting married” meant she just moved in with his family – I doubt very much that they had any kind of ceremony or that they went to town to  get a marriage license). I do realize there is a huge cultural difference going on here and really, she is just being a “normal” Nicaraguan young woman, but I had such high hopes for her!
      But, if I am honest with myself, I am also a little worried that she will very soon be pregnant. In Nicaragua, they do not wait until they are settled or until they feel financially prepared to start popping out the little ones. And, they are young. Probably very fertile. I am already preparing myself for this new level of hurt and anger. Our child is supposed to be the first grandchild! We have been married for nearly 3 years now and together for over 5 years. We have been trying longer! We have a house and both of us have jobs. WE deserve to have the first grandchild, not two silly kids who just run off together!! I told my husband I will not be able to endure her having a baby before us. And I see it happening! I pray to God that they will be responsible and wait until May finishes school, but I have the feeling that God has found a new means of torturing me. Now, not only will all my friends have a baby before me, but my sister-in-law ten years my junior will also be a mother before I am! It seems the pain in my journey thus far is not enough; I must bear more and more heartache. Already I can feel myself getting bitter and already I am internally screaming at God, “How could You?!”  I cannot tolerate it! We have waited our turn. We have prayed and begged and pleaded. What more do You want from me?! What else can be heaped upon my head to create unendurable agony? I can already hear “everyone” clamoring, “Calm down! It hasn’t happened yet and it might not happen! Just take it easy, your time will come.” But, my give-a-dam is busted.

God and babies

***I suppose I should write a quick disclaimer here - this is not going to be a very positive post and some might find what I am saying about God, faith, and religion to be a tad blasphemous. Read at your own risk*** 

   I went to church this morning, for the first time in awhile. I think I have been avoiding church because I am so angry at God. I don't want to be where I am at and I cannot fathom why He has decided to send us down this long and devastating path. When I was trying to be positive and when I was believing in faith that God would give us a baby, I was sorely disappointed time and time again. Now, I just don't believe (I believe in God and I believe in all the "important" stuff, I just don't believe He is going to give us a baby anytime soon). Faith is believing in things unseen, yet insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different results. So at what point do these two ideas become incompatible and at odds with one another? Each month, I have differing levels of belief or faith, that I will become pregnant. This same action has now become insanity because I expect the same thing, do the same thing, and I am always surprised when I get the same results. How do I escape from this swirling vortex of doom?
    After the grueling worship and sermon (I say grueling because after I got there I realized I didn't want to be there), the pastor's wife cornered me. Now, I go to a bi-lingual church in which most of the members speak Spanish as a primary language. The pastor's wife and I communicated in Spanish. I don't know why this important to the story, perhaps I just felt like sharing. Anyway, she asked me if we were blessed with a pregnancy yet. I told her no, we are not going to be blessed. She asked why and I tried to brush her off and told her we could not afford the procedure. She pulled me up front to pray with her, which of course made me cry. She apologized to God on my behalf, for being so furious with Him. And she said if she and I were in agreement, then God will be faithful to give us as many babies as we want. I know that she wanted me to smile and nod and tell her "yes, I believe God will do that," but I just simply could not do it. I could not summon the effort to fake it. Apparently, my faith is as broken as my useless body. But, I don't see any point in forcing myself to think positive and try to be positive when it ends in the same, if not more, pain. So, I left feeling just as deeply sad as when I went in.
     Tonight, I am having such terrible stomach cramps thanks to the metaformin. I can't get comfortable no matter what I do and no matter what I try to eat. Plus, as my period winds down, I am having back cramps. I am pretty darn miserable right now! At least, the Clomid seems to be releasing my emotions and hormones and I am feeling a little more like myself and not a crazy, sobbing lunatic. I have also decided that we will try for another two years and if we do not get pregnant in that time, then we will adopt (although, who knows if Flaco will be willing to adopt at that point or ever). I cannot stay in infertility land indefinitely. I don't know, maybe this is another line in the sand I am giving myself; like having my first baby before I'm 30. I guess only time will tell.

Addressing Some Concerns

     I have had a few people mention to me that I might be taking "this" too hard, that I am too emotional right now. First, I would like to know where the rules are that tell me how I should react to such intense disappointment? But, without getting too snarky, I believe that every individual experiences disappointment in a different way. There is no "right" way to grieve. Am I emotional? Yes. I would think there is something wrong with a woman in my situation not to feel upset about another negative month. And, this is the rock bottom right now. The pain is the most intense when the news is still fresh and the dreams are still fading away. Plus, the pain is compounded by the effect of Clomid, which twists and pulls my hormones to the breaking point, making every emotion feel even more intense. And, I am not getting much hopeful news from the Infertility office and I am now more stressed out about making a decision to perhaps move onto yet another doctor. All of these factors combined have made this particular time all the more poignant. I am grateful there are people out there who care about me, but I also need to do this in my own way. If I try to stuff my feelings and hide them I will only feel worse in the long run.
     I guess what I am trying to say is that I feel like crap right now, but this too shall pass. And I knew I would if I didn't end up pregnant this month. In the past two years, there were months when I knew I would not be pregnant and then there were months when I truly believed I might be pregnant. The months when I believed were definately harder to "get over." I want a baby desperately and I hate feeling hopeless. I hate feeling like the only option our Infertility Doctor is giving us, is something we simply cannot afford. We live pay-check to pay-check, hanging on by the mere tips of our fingers to the bottom of the middle class. We are in debt and spread pretty thin. Taking out yet another loan does not seem wise. I mean, if the IVF were to work the very first time (and even with the chance the doctor's office has given us at 70%, there is still a 30% chance we will blow 9 grand and still be in the same boat, only more broke), we would be on the hook for the loan and also have a new baby to take care of financially! This does not sound like the best idea for us. I wish money were not an issue. But, it is and we have to deal with our reality.
     I hate that we have to be in this situation. I hate infertility. I want nothing more than to miraculously get pregnant without such extreme measures. I find it hard to deal with the intense disappointment every single month. I do realize that remaining calm might help my situation more than getting all freaked out. I was quite calm in December and January, I hardly cried at all when I got my period. I still didn't get pregnant. So, I freak out this month and then move on and work with the lousy hand I've been dealt. When Aunt Flo arrives in March, I will feel sad but not devastated. My heart will still break but perhaps the pieces will be easier to get back together. I don't know the infertility playbook and I don't deal well with disappointment in general. I will take the time this month going forward to concentrate on myself; eating healthy, exercising, finding something to do to occupy my time and keep my mind off of "things." More than that, I cannot promise.

Everybody Hurts Sometimes

     Today was a god-awful, no-good, very bad day in every possible way. I got up early to go to the Infertility office again for my second blood test of the week. I cried on the way there. I cried in front of the nurse who then went to get the doctor. The nurse tried to talk me into IVF again. If I was able to talk (which I couldn't because I was trying so hard not to sob), I would have screamed at her, "WE DO NOT HAVE THE MONEY!! WHAT PART OF THAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!!??!" I have never felt so desperate and hopeless in all my life. My heart was crushed and pulverized for the second time in one week! I will be scheduled for the HSG (tube-checking procedure) sometime next week. When I got back home, my period finally began, along with horrific cramps that take my breath away at times. The rest of the day at work I tried to hide my tears and red, swollen eyes. I think I spent more time in the bathroom than I did at my desk.
     Before I went into work, I called my mom. We had a brief conversation and she promised to call me back after work. So, she called and of course I was crying yet again. She said that she has been talking to the doctor in her office who has worked with women who have infertility issues. She has also been talking to other women who work in her office and have had infertility issues. She thinks, and her thoughts are seconded by other medical professionals, that the Infertility office is trying to push me too hard and too fast into IVF. There are many other steps and tests that they have skipped and that could make a difference. After the HSG they should use a laparoscope to take a better look at my uterus to make sure there are no issues like adenomyosis (my mom had this, it is endometriosis in the uterus). And, after giving my body three cycles or so on the metformin, I should try the Clomid again. I am thinking of switching to the doctor in the office where my mom works, since he seems willing to try "other" options. I have also started to consider acupuncture, although I am still quite terrified of needles. Flaco thinks my mom is right (might be a first and last here people!), that the doctor is pushing IVF because it is the big money-maker. He said he might consider it if they can 100% guarantee a pregnancy. The nurse said because I am young, it would be around a 70% chance of a positive out-come.
     I am hurt and my heart is so broken I am not sure if "all the king's horses and all the king's men" can even find pieces big enough to glue it back together again. The pain in my heart is rivaled by the period cramps, reminding me every minute of the day that I am NOT pregnant. To get back to a more sane place emotionally, this month I will focus on eating better and getting more exercise and the only action I will take in the infertility world is to get my tubes checked and perhaps talk to another doctor for a second opinion. Next month I might try the acupuncture. And then, the month after that, I might try Clomid one more time. That's the plan, at least for now.

Quit Playin' Games with My Heart

 I am going to lose my ever-loving mind. I spoke with my mom last night regarding this unusual non-period and she suggested I take a home pregnancy test. So, I took one this morning and it was negative. I called the Infertility Clinic to report the issue and they have me going in tomorrow to test my progesterone and estrogen levels to be certain I am not pregnant. Then we can schedule the ultra-fun tubal checking procedure. Wait, I thought we already did determine I am not pregnant?
     I thought I had come to terms with this month, mentally moving-on to the next step. I thought that blood tests for pregnancy were the gold standard, that they were never wrong. This has never happened to me before. I mean, I spot nearly every month before my period begins, but I have never spotted then stopped without getting a period. I am freaking out because I am worried there is something else seriously wrong with me. The nurse I talked to this morning suggested that the spotting was my period. It was not. I know my period and it has never been so light I did not even really need a panty-liner. Even when I was on the birth control, I would still sometimes need a tampon plus a pad. As much as I would love to be pregnant, I don’t want there to be anything wrong (of course, no one wants anything to be wrong with their pregnancy or developing child!). This seems like the ultimate betrayal from my body; clear proof that it is irrevocably broken and incapable of even producing “normal” functions. It doesn’t seem fair to have to endure this too, in the midst of all the other infertility turmoil. I feel like that boy-band song, “Quit playin’ Games with my Heart.”
     In other news, this morning I was getting ready to leave for work and I usually have on The Today Show to get some news and stay up-to-date. Well, as I was ready to turn the TV off there was a woman (some anchor on a Fox channel) talking about infertility. Her name was Alisyn Camerota and she struggled with infertility in silence for several years before she finally got pregnant with twin girls through IVF. She then miraculously had a son without infertility treatments. She mentioned that she felt like infertility was a “dirty secret” and she didn’t talk about it to anyone, until she started going to a support group. I wish I could have seen more, but I was already running a little late, so I had to go. I might try to look up the interview at some point. I think I feel a lot like she mentioned, not wanting to tell many people about our struggles. She worried they might become “clock-watchers” and constantly ask her if she was pregnant yet. I just don’t want to hear the platitudes, “Oh, it will happen for you someday” or “You’ll make a great mother.” These are things I have heard from people I did tell. Not to mention the “just relax” comments and the stories about “other” couples who did/tried xzy treatment or adopted then got pregnant on their own, ad nauseam. So, I keep it to myself mostly. Perhaps I will look into a local support group (although I don’t want to join a weekly pity party). 
     So, what I am I thinking about this month now? I do not believe I am pregnant. Do I have potential symptoms of pregnancy? Sure. I get them every month – some on my own and some thanks to Clomid. Sore and very tender breasts (Clomid), cramping, peeing constantly (this one is new and perhaps signals an impending bladder infection  or my mind playing tricks with my body), hungry all the time, bloating, moody (more intense with Clomid), tired. But, who would continue to believe when two pregnancy tests negate the possibility of pregnancy? This does not mean I have not indulged in some web-surfing to find other women who had the same issue (negative tests and no period) but wound up being PG13 (pregnant). I think it is an anomaly that might happen to a few random women (getting false negative tests), but many more women have this same situation and truly are not pregnant. I think I fall into the latter category. I hope to put this to rest for good tomorrow morning. I can’t stand to live in this confusing limbo!

Now what?!

     My period was imminent. The nurse told me it would come "any minute now" on Monday. It hasn't. The spotting (which at it's heaviest hardly required a panty liner) has nearly stopped. STOPPED! And, so now I am going insane! What could possibly be wrong NOW?! I was supposed to call the office when my period started. I know my period and it definitely requires more than a panty liner. The spotting gets heavier until the full flow (or, as I call it, gushing) is here, at times soaking through tampons onto pads. Uh, that has not happened. Will it happen? How long do I wait? What if there is something else wrong with me?! Tomorrow is Thursday and my period was due Tuesday. I will call the Infertility Doctor tomorrow and tell them what is going on. And try not to lose my mind in the meantime. I mean, who ever heard of such a crazy thing? If I am not pregnant, then I want to get my period and get over it to prepare for next month. I don't want to deal with more waiting and random, lingering spotting. Why can't my body cooperate just this once?

Moving on

 Still waiting for Aunt Flo to get her act together here – just random, annoying spotting. I will need to return to the office on day 2 or 3 of my cycle for yet another blood test and to get the tube-checking extravaganza scheduled and underway. And then? Who knows. I think we will try the Clomid again, with the metaformin and perhaps an IUI (turkey basting the little spermies up there). The office is checking if my insurance will cover a round of Clomid with an IUI (I know they don’t cover the Clomid, but that is not expensive). So, I am thinking this month is a dud. Perhaps we will be like all the little woodland creatures and get pregnant in the Spring – no, wait they have their babies in the Spring. . . . So much for that!
     I am trying to feel better about things and life in general. I had my mourning and then my hissy-fit and now I am moving-on. Before we started the treatments with the Infertility Doctor, I was in a better place mentally. I was able to let a glimmer of hope slip into my mind, but I always peppered it with healthy doses of reality. “It could happen this month, but you should not expect too much.” If I don’t let my hopes get too high, I can prevent the inevitable crash and burn of disappointment. This month, I let my hopes soar! I imagined going through the summer pregnant, telling people I was pregnant, and having my baby in my arms in time for the holidays. And when the reality arrived via spotting Friday night, I was hurtled back to the deepest depths of disappointment and despair. So, the way I see it, I have to squash the large quantities of hope that try to wiggle their way in at the beginning of the month; I have to forget there is such a thing as “the two week wait” and just expect that the results might not be what I want them to be. If I don’t get sooooo high on optimism then I won’t plummet so far into anguish. Simple infertility math. Now, to put it into action. . . .
     See, I truly want to be more optimistic. I want to think of myself as infallibly optimistic, but in this case I find myself left in excruciating pain if optimism doesn’t yield the outcome I desire. I want to be positive. I find it more helpful to be positive when I think “I will get pregnant, some day,” rather than, “I will get pregnant this month!” I guess because I believe I will get pregnant some day, and if I don’t get pregnant this month, I can still keep on believing the same thing. But, conversely, if I believe I will get pregnant this month and I don’t, then I feel like it is the end and we will never get pregnant, so what’s the point in hoping. I was reading a lot on line this past weekend and I found an article relating a study which discovered women who are struggling with infertility have the same levels of depression as someone with a terminal illness. I think it is the feeling of being so out-of-control over what is happening to or with our bodies, that causes such deep depression.
     So, Friday night (before my world came crashing down around me) I was out to dinner with a bunch of girlfriends from work. We were celebrating one of the women getting a new (better paying) job. I was talking to a woman who is the mother of 3 teenage sons (well, I guess the youngest is only 12). She has been a foster mother for 7-8 years and has had over 17 children in her home. She is now in the process of adopting one of her foster children – a beautiful baby girl named Ali. This friend does not know we are struggling with infertility, but I did let her know I would like to adopt someday, but my husband is opposed to this idea. She told me she recommends anyone thinking about adoption become a foster parent first because it gives you an idea of what it will be like. It is also possible to adopt a child you have been fostering and have formed a relationship with. I felt like this was a worthy cause to investigate. I presented the idea to Flaco Sunday night. His knee-jerk reaction was to reiterate his decision not to adopt and to nix the idea of foster care. I begged him to seriously consider it – as a way to help me. See, I think having a child to care for (we could not take a teenager in our home, just younger children or babies) would help me. I would have a child to mother, care for, clean up after, and love; even if it is briefly. Last night we were discussing this idea in more detail and Flaco said he doesn’t think he could do it because he would care too much for the child and it would hurt too much when the child is taken back to his/her family. I know that part will be hard, but I truly feel like this would help me to relax a little bit and not feel the affects of infertility so deeply and acutely. Our home would not feel so empty every month. Not to mention that there is such a need for good foster families and we would be doing something to help a child in need. Just having a new out-let of things to do and prepare for, will help me get my mind off of my broken girly parts; it will give me something to look forward to.
     So, I am asking any infertility sister out there: have you considered becoming a foster parent? If you are a foster parent, does it help like I think it might or hurt as much as Flaco thinks it will? I would love to hear personal stories of someone who has walked this path, if you are willing to share.

The Fat Lady has Sung and Elvis has Left the Building

     As I was expecting, the pregnancy test in the office today was negative. Hurts like hell. I mean, I knew it. I've known it since Friday night when I started spotting. But, it still stings to hear it coming out of some else's mouth. After the appointment and before we got the confirmation, Flaco and I went out to eat for lunch. We decided to treat ourselves. Plus, the restaurant where we wanted to go last week for Valentine's Day was so full we went somewhere else, so what better time to go back?
     We are going to have the doctor check my tubes. That is what we told our nurse today. She was supportive, although she said the doctor had no indications that my tubes were not open; nothing indicates tubal issues in my history. She suggested perhaps we try Clomid and an IUI (the turkey-baster approach) if it is determined that my tubes are not an issue. I have to call the office when my actual period starts, which should be any minute now.
     I am trying very hard to keep it together. I cried in the pharmacy today, when we finally went to get the prescription filled for the metaformin. I am such a cry-baby! And, I keep thinking about the "God's perfect timing" myth. I'm sorry to sound blasphemous, but it's complete bullshit. It's been over two years. You mean to tell me in that time, there was no "perfect timing" to be found? And how about now? Does God really want us (well, me) to suffer through more testing as He obstinately withholds conception? An IUI could still cost us around $500 and that's if our insurance company will cover anything. God's perfect timing seems to be costing us a lot of money we don't have. I know, I should just rely in His provision as well as His timing. Excuse me if I find this highly ironic. I suppose, to put it simply, I am angry at God for failing us yet again. I want a baby dammit! Now, not when I am 40 or 50 or 100! NOW! So, take your perfect timing and shove it. I'm going to drown my sorrows in chocolate, ice cream and gallons red wine. . . . .

Retail therapy

     Today I went shopping with my mom and sister. We had a nice time and I got some new things; on clearance, even better! In other news, the spotting continues. Barely anything on a panty liner, but always present when I wipe. I want it to go away, to just evaporate into nothing. But, history has proven that it will only increase until it is a full-fledged period. I just keep reminding myself that, so I don't let any flicker of hope to convince me otherwise. My mother tried to tell me it could be implantation bleeding, but I told her this is my body's mode of operandi. Tomorrow morning it will be confirmed by the blood test at the doctor's office. I know it will hurt, but I have done my mourning yesterday and Friday and I have moved on - next month. I am still very sad, but it is the simple tired sadness that seems to hang around and linger from cycle to cycle. The upper echelon of joy evades me, but simple happiness I can accomplish.
     Tomorrow we will tell the doctor we are not ready for IVF and we would like to get my tubes tested and try the Clomid with the metaformin. Although, I worry about how much this might cost us, if insurance stops covering. These visits can add-up very quickly. I need to not worry about that right now. I need to lean more on God, rather than myself, to achieve this miracle. But, that is so much easier said than done. . . . .

And We All Fall Down

     I am still spotting. Still only when I got to the bathroom, but this is not terribly uncommon for me. I almost always spot before my period begins. I wish I could say I am taking this in stride, that I have faithfully turned my despair into hope. Rather, I have not been able to stop crying since last night. My sister called me right after I first discovered the spotting and I was so distraught; she suggested I seek professional counseling. What does she know? She is five years younger than me, probably 100 pounds thinner than me and more concerned about getting her boyfriend to propose. She is not even sure she wants children.
     I am trying to pull myself together. I have been reading some encouraging posts online. But, after the intense hope, after seeing the little follicles and knowing that I ovulated, after knowing we had sex at the right time, how can I not be floundering in the depths of despair? The crash can only be as great at the height of hope. Flaco and I got into a fight last night. I felt he was being calloused and uncaring. He thought I was just crying like a ninny again, unreasonably so. I don't know what to do with my pain. My despair eats away at me, it drags me down and down and down. My heart is shattered and I fear I cannot find the pieces to paste it back together again. I should keep myself busy, keep my mind from wandering. But, all I can think about are those loving hands I envisioned holding my embryo baby, curling into angry fists, crushing and pulverizing my dreams into dust.
     Again, I am angry at God. What is the point in all of this horrific suffering? Am I a modern-day Job, being tested for my faith? Hardly. Because I am not the only woman out there suffering with infertility. I just so desperately wanted this to be over this month. How perfect? We go one month to the Infertility Doctor and wham-o! We are pregnant. How incredibly wonderful! But, alas! It is not to be. Our journey has not yet ended.
     So, Monday morning I go back to the Infertility Doctor and tell him I want him to test my fallopian tubes to see if they are open. I must go fill the prescription for the metaformin and suggest we try it in combination with the Clomid. I need to determine if our health insurance will continue to cover these treatments. Right now, my heart is not in it. I don't care. I don't want to care. I look as awful as I feel; my eyes are puffy and red, my face is swollen, my nose is runny. My head hurts and my heart aches. And I can't stop crying.

Beginning of the End

     It happened. Tonight, after enjoying dinner with some girlfriends from work, I came home and lo and behold some pink on the paper after I went to the bathroom. This is not the first time it happened. It happens every time before my period, in fact. Before my period. My period. Which is/was due on Tuesday. My world is crumbling. Yes, I know it could be implantation bleeding. I have thought this every month for the past two years. Do you know the simple definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again expecting different results? Well, in this case, insanity is believing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. My history has proven this pink spotting is the beginning of my period, not my precious embryo implanting in my waiting womb.
     Why? Why God? Why couldn't we have made a baby this month? What is it about us that makes us so unworthy. Why do you apparently punish the good and bless the wicked with babies? How is it that if I ovulated and we were having sex the correct days we don't end up with a pregnancy? How much longer much we suffer and endure and try to pretend our lives are ok? What are we doing wrong? What have I done wrong in my life? I tried to believe this month, I prayed and I visualized - and yet, here I sit sobbing. My heart is shattered. My soul aches. I know I should be a good little Christian and just say, "Oh, it is the Will of God in my life. I still believe He will give me a baby. My faith has not been crushed beneath the immense weight of disappointment and heartache." For now, I can only pray for strength.
     The below section I wrote earlier today, before the latest development:
     Flaco and I talked last night. Not too in-depth really, but enough to have made a simple decision. We are not ready to enter the IVF world; not ready emotionally and certainly not ready financially. My husband is still toying with the idea of the injectables, but he also thinks it is a good idea to get some additionally testing. For me. He told me he wants nothing to do with further testing on himself. That hurt my feelings a little bit because I know the problem lies mostly with me, but I have already endured more invasive testing than he has and with each test the discomfort ratchets up a notch. Pobre Flaco told me he is disillusioned about this whole process and he is getting ready to throw in the towel. I can’t blame him because many days I feel the same way.
     I called my mother this morning and gave her the green light to talk to one of the doctors where she works. She will let him know what we have tried and what has been done and ask him for his opinion. He is not a specialist in infertility, but he does work with some patients in their office who are having a hard time conceiving. She is going to suggest testing if my tubes are open and taking a good look at my uterus through a scope. We will talk after work to see what the doctor says. I told her I hate being a doctor hopper, but she insisted I explore all my options and think of IVF as the last ditch effort. My mother worries that the Infertility Doctor is pushing IVF for the money. I guess he doesn’t know that you can’t get  blood from a stone . . . .
     Physically, I am not feeling any different than I normally do 3-4 days before my expected period. I have discovered that being on Clomid makes my breasts very tender prior to my period and that is the case this month as well. Generally, I notice some pink or brown spotting a few days before my period actually starts. I have not seen anything yet, but each time I go to the bathroom I dread seeing the all-too-familiar spot on the TP. I have some random cramps and bloating – nothing unusual about that. I am moody (thanks again to Clomid) and weepy (Clomid) and really tired (I’m not a good sleeper to begin with and quite frankly, I have been rather emotionally taxed lately, which can make me very tired and groggy). In short, I have no symptoms that indicate pregnancy and could not also be explained by an impending period. This is conception limbo.
     Although my broken toe limits my ability to get exercise, I have been trying to work on my diet. I have been eating more salads and fruits. I have limited my portions of meats, starches and carbscliché. In any event, I despise thinking about losing weight or getting more exercise. It’s another ugly battle in my life.
     So, we are in the home stretch. Just one weekend stands between us and the pregnancy test Monday morning. I am still thinking about doing a home pregnancy test before I go into the office. I am praying that the phone call I get will be one resulting in unadulterated joy rather than deep, dark, gut-wrenching despair. I am praying for the best and preparing for the worst. . . . .  
     Apparently, it is the later rather than the former - the worst is arriving and all I have left to do it try to hold myself together. . . . "I'm dying inside and nobody knows it but me." (Nobody Knows it but Me, Kevin Sharp)

Eenie, meanie, minie, moe . . . .

  We are one day closer to knowing if it is to be or not to be. I am praying incessantly, pleading with God to send us our blessing this month. Yesterday and Tuesday I had such a fatalistic mindset. I felt like this was the very last chance we had and if we failed it was all over. But, this is not the end, unfortunately. It might just mean readjusting the sails and repainting the dream in our minds, but it is not the end. We still haven’t made a decision about what our next step will be – and perhaps by not deciding, we have decided. Maybe, it is just time to take a step back. I honestly don’t know if I can, since the past two years of my life have been utterly dedicated to getting pregnant, but it might be worth the try. Even if we take a break, it is not the end.
     Coupled with this feeling of finality, I have also been dreaming about our little embryo in the mighty hands of God. I close my eyes and this image is burned into my mind’s eye; great and gentle hands cupped around a tiny mass of cells, forming them and loving them into the shape of a baby. I envision God’s hands holding my uterus, keeping me and the baby safe and sound. I also pray to God that if this is not our month, that he grant me grace and composure beyond measure. I pray that I can accept His Will in my life, regardless of how much I dislike the outcome.
     Monday I return to the Infertility Doctor for a pregnancy test. Thankfully, I have the day off, since I work for the state and President’s Day is a federal holiday. Already, I am dreading the phone call that afternoon. I have considered testing before I go in, but I don’t think I have a very sensitive test and I might be too much of a mess to go to the doctor’s office. I want the answer and yet I dread it with every fiber of my being. Devastated will not describe the depth of the pain I will feel. Guess I need to keep praying for composure.....
     I know I am over-emotional right now. Lovely Clomid. I spend a good part of my day holding back the tears and a good part of the night letting them flow. Sometimes I feel like an alien has eaten my brain and all that is left is this weepy, blubbery mess that can only think about conceiving. I used to really enjoy making love to my husband (he likes long drawn out love making sessions) but now I just want to get “it” over with. I hardly talk to friends who have babies because it makes me so incredibly sad. I do, however, stalk them on Facebook when I am feeling the need to emotionally punish myself. I constantly daydream of our baby and what it will be like to be a family of three. On really bad obsession days, I pick out baby furniture and clothes.
     So, how do I turn away from all of this? How to I stop the daydreaming and obsessing? Maybe I need a hobby, but nothing comes to mind, other than shoe shopping. I would love to travel, but financially we cannot. Perhaps I can volunteer somewhere. I did get an application from the local literacy counsel a few months ago. I have a home-based business (in addition to my full-time job) so I know I can work more on that to keep me busy.  But, the hours I am at my day job are mind-numbingly dull and that is when my obsession can really take hold. I will need to find something to do to keep my mind from wandering to this topic.
     For now, our decision still remains to be unmade. I am feeling less and less ready to attempt IVF, not only because of the immense cost, but also because it means losing that last little un-invasive way to achieve pregnancy. IVF, while it is amazing and quite a medical miracle, means we will not be conceiving a baby, but rather we will be donating the necessary products for a lab to conceive our baby. And then I become an incubator. I know this is a very negative way of looking at it and I really have no qualms about anyone using this technique, nor am I saying we will never try it. But, I want to be sure that if we try IVF, it is because it is probably the only way we will get pregnant. At this point, I think I am leaning more towards going the route my mother presented to me; which is doing some more testing, seeing if my tubes are open and if my body accepts Flaco’s sperm, scoping my uterus to make sure there is nothing wrong with it, etc. While I do not relish enduring numerous procedures (some I understand are rather uncomfortable), I quite simply am not ready to jump straight into IVF. Injectables are a distant second, mostly because I am terrified of needles and as my mother reminded me, I couldn’t even give my horse a shot of penicillin because I hate shots so bad. So, what makes me think I can give myself not only one shot, but many? It will cause me a great deal of stress, which I hear isn’t so great when you are trying to conceive.
     In closing, to explain how I am feeling and to quote from a movie I’ve seen too many times, “I know you can be overwhelmed and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever be just whelmed?” “I think you can in Europe” (from 10 Things I Hate about You).  

Letting go

As children bring their broken toys
   with tears for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God,
because He was my friend.
But then, instead of leaving Him,
in peace, to work alone;
I hung around and tried to help,
with ways that were my own.
At last, I snatched them back and cried,
"How can you be so slow?"
"My child," He said,
"What could I do?
You never did let go."

- Author: Lauretta P. Burns -

     I don’t know if writing all this down is helping me stay sane or just feeding my obsession. In any event, I feel somewhat better today. I think this is because I have transformed my sorrow and pain into anger. Feeling sad and depressed is a weak feeling for me, which I hate. So, to counter the grief, I get mad. I let little irritants dig in and balloon out of proportion. I wrap myself in the strength of my anger and lash out at anything remotely painful. While I do not believe this is a terribly healthy reaction, I find it more appeasing than the melancholy, therefore I latch onto the madness.
     I also attempt to do things outside of myself. Many times my own pain clouds my ability to see suffering in someone else, but I make it more of a point now to reach out to another hurting soul, even in a very small way. Too many times I just live inside my head, ping-ponging the most unkind thoughts about myself around and around my skull until I just want to find the off button to make it all stop. I get angry at God and accuse Him of putting me through this misery month after month. I confess I have little confidence in His ability to perform miracles, especially when it comes to me. I do my best to argue my point to God, telling Him that we have suffered enough and we are deserving of our own blessing NOW. I try to think positive, in an attempt to will my baby into existence. I tell God that I believe He will give us a baby this month. But, then as we creep closer to the day and the hour when I will discover the truth, I back-pedal and say “God will give us a baby” but it will be “some day” – some intangible day in the distant future that feels like it will never arrive.
I try and I try to come to terms with our condition. I tell myself that I might not be able to become a mother the way I want to; meaning I might need to become a mother through adoption. I grew up thinking I would like to adopt, regardless of being able to have a baby on my own. But, now that I am here face-to-face with this monumental decision, I am balking at actually doing it. And it is not a decision I can make on my own. Flaco does not want to adopt because he does not feel like he can love another couples baby. How can you argue with that? It is a very personal feeling that most likely cannot be changed. But, even if this were a decision I would make on my own, I feel like adoption is the last ditch effort. It would mean giving up my dream of ever being pregnant; feeling my baby move and kick for the first time, feeling my body grow to accommodate the life inside me, going through labor and delivery, breast feeding. All of these things would be given up and I am not ready to do that yet.
     So, while last night I was looking at just two options, today I realize there are more than just two options. There is also option number three, which would be taking the time right now to  get my body healthy (i.e. cardio, diet, lose weight), save money, and revisit the IVF/injection scene in another six months or more. My mother called me tonight after work. She is a nurse in an ob/gyn office and apparently, she has decided to plead my case to other nurses in her office. They have come to the conclusion that the Infertility Doctor is pushing us too quickly into IVF. My mother believes that the doctor should not move forward until they test to see if my tubes are open. She offered to have me come see one of the doctors where she works and she can code the insurance so it should be covered. For some reason, this made me want to just break down and lose it completely. Why can't we just have a baby made during our intimate act of love? I don't want to have to make this choice. . . . I must let go and let God. . . .

Keep Hope Alive

     We had another appointment with the Infertility Doctor this evening. It was our review appointment. Flaco gets a passing grade, although his cholesterol is a little high (too many chicharrones, perhaps?) and his testosterone might be peaking (meaning, he might need some medication for this in the future, but he is ok now). Me? Well, as we know, I do not ovulate regularly and I have PCOS. The horrific 2 hour glucose test revealed that I am slightly insulin resistant and they have started me on metafomin. And I need to do more cardio (or do cardio, since I am not big on the exercising) and watch what I eat. At least he said losing weight was not as important to getting cardio and eating healthier; this made me feel a little better. Anyway, he told us we basically have two options: option number one is taking an injectable to spur follicle growth and hopefully make a baby, option number two is IVF. There are pluses and minuses to both options. There are also differences in cost. One IVF treatment basically costs what we pay for a year of our mortgage.
     So, here's the way I see this: it's the bottom of the ninth, tie game and bases are loaded, two outs. I'm up to bat and already have a full count. This is it! I have one more pitch to hit it out of the park, grand slam or I lose it all. The nurse and the doctor did not leave me with much hope that I could be pregnant already. They were really pushing the IVF as the closet option to a sure thing (the nurse even estimated we would have a 70% chance of getting pregnant on the first cycle) versus the injections because of the likelihood of having a multiple pregnancy. Of course the IVF is waaaay more expensive. Not to say that we can go jumping on the injectable wagon because it's still rather steep for us. I am feeling very bummed, down right craptastic. I feel like we are simply not wealthy enough to have a baby. I feel like I have already given up on this month and I hate that feeling! This was my biggest fear with going to the Infertility Doctor; that we would get to the point where there are more treatment options but we cannot pursue them because of financial constraints. And the nurse did give us a pamplet about some loan company that can help us fund the treatments (like getting a second mortgage?), but we are already pretty heavily in-debt from when Flaco moved here (the cost of immigrating here is insane - also I was working two jobs but he was so homesick, I needed to quit one, so less money on top of it. We basically charged all the gas and groceries bills to a credit card. Yeah. . . .). So, I am rather disinclined to go further into debt just to try to get pregnant, let alone when we have a brand new hungry mouth to feed. So, where do we go from here?
     I have to wait until next week, to go back to the office for a pregnancy test. And, depending on the results we will need to make a major decision. Flaco wants to try the cheapest option (but remember, he thinks having a litter of children sounds like a win-win). I just want a baby. I wish this wasn't our path to follow. Another little part of me died today. One tiny piece of my heart iirreparablyly broken. I can't keep the tears from flowing. I just want to be a mommy. Why must it be this hard? How much more must we endure?

Am I . . . . ?

     I. can't. stop. obsessing!!!! Seriously, I spend like 23 1/2 hours out of the day thinking and wondering and trying to tell myself to STOP! I read all about conception online wishing and hoping and praying that this is what my body is doing; creating a baby. I lurk on all the infertility boards and blogs out there and think that perhaps my own blog will turn from the heartache of infertility to the joy of pregnancy. Don't get your hopes up? We are waaaaaay beyond that possibility at this point. My hopes, despite my best intentions, are sky-high floating around the stars. I want to remain calm, rooted in reality, but I just can't! This is the hardest part of the cycle, waiting to get the results of all the planning, medicine-taking, and baby-making sex. Did it work this time? When I am not externally seeking information about pregnancy, I am internally encouraging my body to do it's thing. Seriously, I mentally talk to my body and tell it to do what I assume it should be doing at this point. Like right now, the little bugger should be nestling into the uterine wall to hang out for another 9 months. I try to imagine it happening, as weird as that may sound. Externally, I also watch for signs or symptoms of pregnancy, which I doubt I would be feeling already, but I am an infertile and this is what we do! I know obsessing is not healthy and that it can cause undo stress, which is not good for infertility or pregnancy. But, I simply cannot stop! We have been waiting for two years and if this is happening now, I want to know so I can rejoice and so I can let all those dreams swell into reality. How do I stop? Because I know, if this isn't our month then I am going to crash and burn very quickly. I am fully aware of the pain that awaits me on the other side of this long wait. I want to remain positive, I want to remain calm and serene and just take it, come what may. Serenity now! How do I wait patiently when I know this is something so BIG?! Well, I suppose it is only big if I am pregnant. If I am not, then it's just same old-same old. I need to pull myself together!! Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and usually I try to do a little something special for Flaco, but right now my mind is only on our next appointment with the Fertility Doctor on Tuesday. Will they be able to tell me if I am pregnant? The nurse mentioned taking progesterone levels to see what the levels are and if I need to take medication to elevate the levels. The doctor will also be telling us about the results from all the various tests we've been subjected to in the past month. And, he will make a recommendation for future treatments (if they are needed). I just want to know! For some reason, I just have this crazy feeling like this is IT, this is the month we will get the best news of our lives! And I am so scared to say that because if my feeling is incorrect, I will doubt myself and my intuition in addition to doubting my body's ability to perform it's procreating duties. I am over-analyzing everything!! I need to just let go and let God. . . . . SERENITY NOW!!!

Rules of Engagement

     I am gearing up to get "the news" in the next couple of weeks; either I will be pregnant or Aunt Flo will make her unwelcome appearance. Right after getting this news I will be at my most vulnerable. So, I was thinking about how nice it would be if everyone would follow certain rules when talking to me about infertility. I know, I know, dream on, right? Short of handing out a consent form or rules of engagement form before conversing with "people" there isn't much I can do but put on a happy face and blog about it later.

Disclaimer - some of the information below was borrowed from another blog called Empty Wombs. The particular piece was "Commenting Rules" by Christina Banks. Also, from an article called "Infertility Tests Every Aspects of a Couple's Life" on webmd.
    
     Rule #1 : Do not offer unsolicited advise.
     I know it is human nature, especially for women, to offer advise to someone with a problem. But, in this case the advise is most unwanted and can sometimes be hurtful. Refrain from suggesting certain medical procedures, sexual positions, or random foreign herbs you might have heard about in your brief encounters with infertility. There are doctors who spend their entire career studying and understanding the complexity of infertility, so let us talk to them about options and ask the professionals for advise.

     Rule #2 : For the love of all things holy under the sun, do not I repeat, DO NOT tell me to "just relax and it will happen."
     Really? Seriously? The cause of infertility has nothing to do with how up-tight or stressed out a couple is; if it did doctors would prescribe a nice hot bath and a massage and we'd all get pregnant. Also, "The problem is that infertility affects every aspect of a woman's life," says Alice Domar, a health psychologist and director of the Mind/Body Program for Infertility at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, Harvard Medical School. "It affects their relationship with their husbands because men and women don't respond to infertility in the same way. It affects their sex life because they're told when they can and can't have intercourse. It affects relationships with friends and family because everyone else seems to be getting pregnant effortlessly. It affects jobs because they have to miss tons of time for doctor's appointments and procedures. It can send them into a spiritual crisis. They feel cruddy because they're going through all these invasive tests and procedures which hurt. And it costs a ton of money." (from webmd - and I love that she uses the word cruddy) Domar says that depression among infertile women is just as severe as the depression experienced by those with life-threatening diseases such as cancer, heart disease and AIDS. That can make positive, or even realistic, mindsets hard to drum up, she says. "Infertility is a brutal process, and unlike any other medical condition, the patient is blamed for it," she says. "Every infertility patient in the world has been told, 'Just relax, and you'll get pregnant.' Would you say to a cancer patient to just relax and the cancer will go away?" I think I am going to use that last line the next time someone tells me to "just relax."

     Rule #3 : Do not offer us your children because they drive you crazy or suggest we are crazy for wanting children because of losing sleep and freedom, etc.
     I get it, I do. Maybe you think you are lessening the pain by describing how crazy life can get with children or how being sleep deprived for several years can really suck. We are not ignorant to the facts that by getting what we want, we might also be giving up the freedom to sleep late on the weekends or go out whenever we want, this does not mean that we don't want to be parents! Let's face it-no one can fully appreciate the responsibilities involved in parenting until they are, themselves, parents. That is true whether you successfully conceived after one month or after 10 years. The length of time you spend waiting for that baby does not factor in to your appreciation of responsibility. Perhaps part of what fuels this perception is that infertile couples have a longer time to "dream" about what being a parent will be like. Like every other couple, we have our fantasies-my child will sleep through the night, would never have a tantrum in public, and will always eat his vegetables. Let us have our fantasies. Those fantasies are some of the few parent-to-be perks that we have-let us have them. You can give us your knowing looks when we discover the truth later.

     Rule #4 : Don't suggest or imply that God has decided not to give us children because we might not be good parents or are not ready to be good parents in some way.
     I do believe children are a blessing. But, just because we are having a hard time achieving our "blessing" does not mean we are cursed or being punished for some reason. Do you believe that God intends for women to get pregnant only to abort their babies or have a miscarriage? Is that a blessing? In life, sh*t happens. Sure, sometimes God does perform miracles (some would argue that a baby might be a miracle to an infertile couple), but some of the times it's not about good or bad, deserving or undeserving. We infertiles have a hard enough time struggling with these thoughts and ideas and don't need anyone to add to it, thank you very much.
     One of the cruelest things anyone could say is, "Maybe God doesn't intend for you to be a mother." How incredibly insensitive to imply that I would be such a bad mother that God felt the need to divinely sterilize me. If God were in the business of divinely sterilizing women, don't you think he would prevent the pregnancies that end in abortions? Or wouldn't he sterilize the women who wind up neglecting and abusing their children? Even if you aren't religious, the "maybe it's not meant to be" comments are not comforting. Infertility is a medical condition, not a punishment from God or Mother Nature.

     Rule # 5 : Don't suggest there are worse things than can happen or that we should just be grateful for what we have.
     The idea that there can be worse things than infertility is subjective. What might be considered a worse situation by one person could be considered relatively trivial to someone else. Infertility is not a light matter and someone who has not experienced the roller coaster ride of highs and lows cannot understand the pain. People wouldn't dream of telling someone whose parent just died, "It could be worse: both of your parents could be dead." Such a comment would be considered cruel rather than comforting. In the same vein, don't tell your friend that she could be going through worse things than infertility.
     Likewise, being sad about infertility does not mean we are not grateful for the life that we do have together. Daily, we are thankful that there are doctors and treatments for infertility. We are thankful for each other and for our jobs. You wouldn't tell somebody whose parent just died to be thankful that he no longer has to buy Father's Day or Mother's Day cards. Losing that one obligation doesn't even begin to compensate for the incredible loss of losing a parent.

     I know there are probably a million more ideas out there of what not to say to someone struggling through infertility. But, basically it boils down to the simple fact that if you haven't walked a mile in these shoes, you have no clue how hurtful some simple comments can be.

Dear Baby

Dear Baby,

     Allow me to introduce myself. I am your mommy. I am married to your daddy, Flaco, and we live in a small house in Reading. I met your daddy when I was in the Peace Corps in Nicaragua and we fell in love. We got married on May 10, 2008 on your great grandparent's farm, which is also where I grew up. I have a younger brother and sister, your aunt and uncle. Daddy has four younger siblings and they live in Nicaragua with your abuela and abuelo.
     Daddy and I are so excited to meet you, we have been waiting for you for over two years now. It has been hard thinking about meeting you each month, only to be told we have to wait yet another month. We love you so much already and we haven’t even seen your beautiful smile or counted all ten of your perfect fingers and toes. You are so special to us and we have been struggling so long just to hold you in our arms; we know someday soon you will be our very own wonderful miracle.
     You are a unique baby! Daddy has Hispanic heritage and grew up thousands of miles away from where Mommy grew up. Mommy’s heritage is mostly German, but surely there is a healthy mixture of other Western European blood in the family line. Mommy’s family identifies with the Pennsylvania Dutch culture here in PA. Daddy is also a mixture of different ethnicity's; his family descends from the Nicaro Indians of Central America and the Spanish conquistadors who invaded the land in search of gold. See how truly special you are!
     Mommy and Daddy are both the eldest children in the family. Mommy has one brother who is 1 ½ years younger and one sister who is 5 years younger. Daddy has 2 younger brothers and 2 younger sisters.  Your youngest uncle will be only 8 years older than you! Mommy’s parents still live in the same house where Mommy grew up and they too have been waiting so long to get to know you. Your grandmother has been thinking about what she would like you to call her and I think she has settled on Grammie. Your grandfather isn’t picky about what you call him, but I think Pop might be fun because that is what he called his grandfather. Your abuelos in Nicaragua have not mentioned a preference, but you will learn Spanish so you can communicate with them when we go for visits. Daddy will teach you Spanish, Mommy will teach you English. You will be such a smart baby, growing up with two native languages!
     I have so many dreams for you, my sweet baby! There is so much for me to teach and show you once you are here! Daddy will show you how to ride a bike and when you get good, he will show you how to ride with a second person, like they do in Nicaragua. Mommy will show you how to play hopscotch and jump rope. Daddy will teach you to climb trees and skip rocks. Mommy will teach you how to sew a button onto your shirt and how to make your bed. You will learn to ride a horse and play the piano (although if you hate both that’s ok). You and Daddy will play pitch and catch and watch baseball games together. Grammie will teach you how to cook and bake and if you are lucky my Nana (your great grandmother) will teach you how to make homemade chicken pot pie PA Dutch style. We will go to the farm to go sledding and pick raspberries. When we are visiting your abuelos and tios in Nicaragua, we will go swimming in the river and climb la loma to see the whole community. We’ll eat your abuelas handmade tortillas fresh off the fire with fresh cuajada.
     While we wait for you precious little one, we will continue to pray for your health and that you might arrive here soon! We love you and we wait with open arms to embrace you. Cuidate precioso!

Love,
Your Mommy

Obsession

     I have to confess, I have been obsessing. I wanted so badly to be cool as a cucumber this month and not get caught up in the tantalizing hope that we might just conceive a baby this month. But, I have failed. Things seem to be going so well, too well perhaps. I mean, I am an educated person and I understand the general process of conception, we have made the attempt many months on our own to no avail. Now, just because we have someone telling us when to bump nasties, we could get pregnant? And yes, I understand that I was most likely not ovulating for the majority of the 19 months we were out there on our own, but I also know that I did ovulate on Clomid before and it didn’t work out as we had hoped. I am trying to reason with my poor, muddled, hormone intoxicated brain, to accept the fact that it could happen but it might not happen and there is not always a rhyme or reason for this. Call it fate, call it the will of God, call it luck, but whatever it is the action of creating life cannot always be coerced into occurring on man’s demand (or woman’s demand). I just keep giving my body a pep talk. Like, “Listen up little follicles your job is to be welcoming and accepting to a nice little spermy swimming your way. Invite them in for awhile. And fallopian tubes, just shoot those happy little follicles down into the warm and waiting uterus. Now, uterus you are all prepared for our little guests, so just tuck them in for the next 9 months.” I suppose this kind encouragement is better than all the mean things I have said to my body in the past 24 months. I have been rather unkind calling my uterus inhospitable and my ovaries useless and devoid of the essence that makes me a woman.
     In the meantime, every little twitch every odd twinge, I swear “it” is happening. I hate this feeling of helpless desire, the feeling of having done everything correctly but still running to risk of an unwelcome outcome. My breasts have begun to ache, but I know this is the Clomid. The previous 5 months I took Clomid my breasts hurt so bad I wanted to rip them off of my body and fling them into oblivion. I am tired, but I know my broken toe is not letting me get a good nights rest (and I have never been a “good” sleeper, so sometimes it doesn’t matter what I do, I wake up several times per night). Sometimes I feel a slight pinch on my left lower abdomen (where I believe my ovary would be), but it is probably gas. My back hurts, but that is because my fancy broken-toe shoe is never the same height as my other shoe so I walk lopsided. I am peeing more often, but I am drinking a lot more water as per instructions from the nurse at the Fertility Clinic. I want to let go, just let go of all the past pain, of all the dashed hopes and broken dreams. I want to get wildly ecstatic and giddily start picking out baby items and finding maternity clothes. I want to make celebratory love to my husband, for once in over two years not thinking about getting pregnant. But, I cannot. I hold myself back, trying to protect my tender heart from yet another disappointment. So, I hang onto what little sanity I have until I know definitively what the outcome is.

Can you do it tonight?

    Yesterday was such a hectic day. It started with yet another appointment with the Infertility Clinic, bright and early in the morning. They wanted to see if I had ovulated over the weekend or not. Getting blood out of my poor vein was not easy. I use my left arm because the right one does not have a great vein. It blew out when I was getting my wisdom teeth out (not great for someone who already despises needles). Anyway, after that trauma it was time for yet another ultrasound. There were still some follicles hanging out and it was not very clear when I would be ovulating. The hormone levels would paint a clearer picture. The nurse called me later yesterday afternoon and told me I was ovulating NOW and asked if we could "do it" that night. Well, sure we got up extra early to come to the office before I went to work (Flaco does not work Mondays or Tuesdays) and I had a meeting last night in Valley Forge (nearly an hour away) and wouldn't be home until 10-ish, but sure we'll get it on. . . . Which we did. And I spent the whole time trying to imagine the little sperms meeting up with the eggs. I kept mentally encouraging them and I imagined myself introducing sperm to egg. I willed our bodies to make a baby. How romantic! I go back to the office on Tuesday for the results meeting and to check on hormone levels again. I am thinking they will be checking to see if I am pregnant, but the nurse refrained from saying this directly. I am trying to stay hopeful.
     In other news, from the explanation of benefit forms I have been getting, it appears that the insurance is covering the testing and office visits we have been doing thus far. So, we just pay our co-pay every time we go in and for the medication and the insurance is footing the bill thus far. I am so grateful for this, because it looks like the bills are already up over $1,500 and counting. And we haven't even done anything expensive yet! All the more reason for this month to be THE month!!!

Someone Else's Star

     Below is a country song that I had stuck in my head last night and woke up singing this morning. It is a song performed by Bryan White, whom I was totally obsessed and in love with when I was about 15. If you replace the idea that he is singing about a lover with the idea of a baby, it pretty much describes the past two years of my life. . . .     

Alone again tonight
Without someone to love
The stars are shining bright
So one more wish goes up
Oh I wish I may
And I wish with all my might
For the love I’m dreaming of
And missing in my life

You’d think that I could find
A true love of my own
It happens all the time
To people that I know
Their wishes all come true
So I’ve got to believe
There’s still someone out there who
Is meant for only me

I guess I must be wishing on
Someone else’s star
It seems like someone else keeps getting
What I’m wishing for
Why can’t I be as lucky
As those other people are
I guess I must be wishing
On someone else’s star

I sit here in the dark
And stare up at the sky
But I can’t give my heart
One good reason why
Everywhere I look
It’s lovers that I see
It seems like everyone’s in love
With everyone but me

I guess I must be wishing on
Someone else’s star
It seems like someone else keeps getting
What I’m wishing for
Why can’t I be as lucky
As those other people are
I guess I must be wishing
On someone else’s star

Why can’t I be as lucky
As those other people are
Oh, I guess I must be wishing
On someone else’s star

      Last night a good friend told me she and her husband have began trying to get pregnant. They started in November but she was afraid to tell me because she knows about our struggles. I felt sad that she couldn't tell me but also somewhat relieved. Her husband is in the military and he will be deployed next February, so they are only trying until March because she does not want to "do it" alone. And even though she is new to the trying to conceive game, she has some of the same neurotic thoughts that I have. And while I am in the boat of just hoping it happens eventually and not trying to schedule when we will have our baby, she does not have that luxury. It would be the coolest thing ever if we both get pregnant this month, because we will be pregnant buddies and our babies can be friends!
     I feel like yesterday's post sounded like I had completely given up the hope that we might be pregnant this month. I waver between trying to save myself the heartbreak and getting freaking insanely excited about the chance of it happening. In the end, I know no matter how hard I try not to think about it, not to dream the dream, if I get my period I will be crushed down to the depths of despair. One would think that after two years of this cockamamie roller coaster ride I would be more calloused and accustomed to the highs and lows, that I could laugh in the face of sheer disappointment. But, one would be wrong in this assumption. Each month hope blooms anew, slowly creeping inside and spreading more each day until the Big Let-down. Deep down inside I know we will have a baby. My fears dance around the unknown ("nothing to fear but fear itself") of how long it will take and what measures we will need to endure to have the baby. So, while I have not given up hope entirely, I have been learning there are certain things I can do to guard my heart. I don't let myself "go there" in terms of my thoughts and emotions when I see something that makes me think of my own inadequacies with fertility. I must try to stop living my life from cycle to cycle. In the beginning I stopped drinking my one cup of coffee in the morning, I wouldn't take any Aleve if I got a headache (and I am prone to headaches and migraines), and I wouldn't eat certain foods I heard aren't good for pregnant women, I even stopped cleaning the cat's litter box a few weeks out of the month (to my husbands chagrin). But, I can't put my life on hold in the process of trying to have a baby. So, I drink coffee and eat the foods I want. I take medicine when I need it. 
     Monday morning, bright and early, I go back to the Fertility Clinic for yet another ultrasound and blood test. I am nervous to see the out-come, to see if any of the six little follicles wanted to make a home in my uterus. Let it be, dear Lord, let it be!

Ice, Ice Baby

     So, the way I see it, the rotten, lousy groundhog got it wrong on Wednesday. Spring has never been farther away and today lends evidence to this statement. I had scheduled to have my 2 hour glucose testing done this morning at 7:45. If you recall, I tried to go last Saturday but didn't have an appointment and they kept taking everyone else ahead of me until it was too late to do the test. Well, I made this appointment before I broke my toe and was rendered unable to drive. I had to wake Flaco up to take me over to the lab. He was less than pleased because he also had to be up earlier than normal for him on Thursday and Friday (to take me to doctor appointments and work). To be fair, his schedule is different from mine. He usually works 10 am - 10 or 11 pm in a very busy restaurant. He sees my job as insanely easy (which, it is most of the time, but it does require a certain intelligence) and he works very hard on his feet all day. Anyway, we were quarreling as we went outside to the car to drive to the lab (about 15 minutes away). It was freezing rain and the sidewalk was extremely slippery. Unfortunately the roads were equally as treacherous and we never made it out of our neighborhood, let alone to the lab. I was so annoyed. But, I don't suppose you want to hear all about annoyance between the two of us.
     I am in limbo-land. The place where all the meds have been taken, all the tests performed, and now it is just time to wait and let "nature" take it's course. We cannot control if one or more of the follicles will actually mature. We cannot force the mature little bugger out of the ovary and down the fallopian tube to some waiting sperm. And short of crossing our fingers and praying to God, we cannot shove a little spermy into one of these eggs and start cellular multiplication. Nothing we do will hinder or enhance the little egg-sperm from nestling into the uterine wall and continue to grow into our baby. I want nothing more than to end this Clomid Challenge a winner, with a bun in the oven. I have dreamt about it so often, sometimes I wake up in the morning and I swear I hear my baby crying for me. I see flashes of our "new" life; feeding the baby in the morning and then snuggling in bed with Flaco, taking baby to visit my parents on the farm, coming home to hugs and kisses, soothing our baby to sleep - so many little snapshots! Clearly, I need a hobby!
     I am trying to stay sane with this nasty Clomid pumping through my veins. I am weepy and moody and the hot flashes continue. And now that I am stuck home with this lousy broken toe, I have nothing but time to think and troll the blogs. I just want to know, one way or another, if we will get pregnant this month. I hate to be so afraid to let myself believe that just another month on Clomid can give me my heart's desire. And while I have been intrigued by actually seeing my body during the ovulation cycle, it has also given me a whole other venue to obsess about. I keep envisioning the little blobs morphing into a pea-sized baby. Mentally, I talk to them, encouraging them to stick around for awhile. But, in the end I can do nothing but wait. . . . .

6 Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed . . .

     I know, random. It's been a random kind of day. This morning I went back to the Fertility Doctor for another ultrasound and more blood donation. I hobbled in on my crutches, nearly falling on the ice outside the door. For the first time in the past 3 weeks, there was another couple waiting when we went inside. I don't know why this bothered me, but it did. I mean, I know they have other patients, but for whatever reason we have never come across anyone else. On our way out there were another two couples waiting. All three couples we saw were young-looking (probably near our ages).
     I managed to gingerly slide my mangled and bandaged foot into the stirrup, with the help of the nurse. The ultrasound showed 6 (thus the 6 monkeys jumping on the bed song popping into my head) follicles maturing. They are estimating I will ovulate this weekend and the nurse declared, "You are responding well to the Clomid Challenge." I wanted to ask for a gold medal (sense the sarcasm?). I was a little freaked out by the 6 follicles, but the nurse assured me that this was not an issue, since not all the follicles will mature into eggs. The human body is such a confuzzled thing! She also told us to have sex every day or every other day from now until Sunday. Flaco took his homework seriously and after some propping with pillows, we managed to get started on this mandate.
     After the fun at the infertility clinic, we headed off to the orthopedic doctors office to get the foot taken care of. I got a sexy blue shoe which doesn't allow me to talk normally (it is flat so I can't push off with my toes). It still hurts a bit, so I still use the crutches. But, the toe should heal all on it's own and no surgery is needed. I was given an excuse to be out of work until next Thursday, so I never went into the office today. But, I am going tomorrow. What is the point in sitting around the house when I am perfectly capable of working? I cannot drive so Flaco will need to take me to work and a friend will bring me home. Sigh.
     So, as I am relaxing with my foot propped up, catching up on the newest episodes of Bones and What not to Wear, the nurse from this morning called me. She said my hormonal levels are a little on the high side and that I should drink a lot of water. I might feel "a little full" in my lower abdomen. They will double check these levels on Monday. I really don't know what this means, but I am feeling fine (other than the toe, but that has nothing to do with my ovaries).
     I don't know how I feel about all of this. I asked Flaco if he thought we would get pregnant this month and he doesn't think so. He thinks it will happen next month. I am optimistic - I mean we have follicles and they look like they are getting ready to pop on out of the ovaries. We just need to make sure they meet up with a few good sperm and then stick around to form a baby. I thought I would be over the moon with excitement because we have been getting nothing but good news thus far. Maybe I am just trying to keep myself calm and just take whatever comes our way. Well, maybe not 6 kids all at one shot . . . . Or, perhaps I am too weary to put my heart out there again and dare to believe that this month might be our month. I have been uncharastically calm to date. Maybe, breaking my toe was a good way to distract myself during this excruciating waiting game.
     Although I tried not to, I looked up when my estimated due date would be and it is exactly a month after my 30th birthday (my birthday is October first, the estimated due date is November first). I know that it is totally jumping-the-gun-putting-the-horse-before-the-cart-counting-my-chickens-before-they-hatch kind of crazy, but I couldn't help myself. I have been dreaming about it for over two years now. Even longer, since I think I have always wanted to be a mother. Today when I was getting a prescription filled there was a little girl (older than one but not quite two) waiting with her mom who was getting her prescription filled. The little girl was playing with bottles of cough medicine. She was enthralled by me and my crutch, so decided I deserved a bottle of Robitussin. She even put it back when I handed it back to her. As her mother was herding her out of the store, she apologized to me. I told her not to worry about it, but what I was really saying was that interacting with a baby, even one I don't know, somehow warms my heart (even as it breaks my heart in the process).
     My mom called me to see how the doctors office visit went this morning. I explained about the 6 follicles and the high hormone levels. I told her I was hoping this would be our month and she said, "We are too! We are anxiously waiting for a grandbaby!" She then told me that she caught my dad telling their cat, Oliver (he was a kitten from the barn who fell out of the hay mow and his mother abandoned him. He can't see very well and hardly at all. He is incredibly spoiled and very rigid in his routines), that they have to dote on him and give him all their love because they don't have a grandchild to spoil. This makes me sad, but we are doing all that we can do to give them a grandchild. We shall stay the course and march onward. At least until Monday. Think fertile thoughts!
    

Calamity Jane

     Before I get to any infertility related news, first let me recount what has happened to me in the past 24 hours or so. . . . Last night I was dashing out of our bedroom bound for the bathroom. I was wearing slippers and slipped while making the turn and slammed into the wall. My toes cushioned my impact. Unfortunately, there was nothing to cushion my toes. It hurt so bad I could hardly walk. Flaco taped the poor toe (hanging at an odd angle) to his neighbor. I didn't sleep well because the weight of the comforter on my toe. This morning, I briefly opened my eyes to check if the electricity was still on and noticed the comforting blue light on the Direct TV box. I briefly drifted back to sleep. Then, as my alarm was blaring in my ear, I heard a huge BOOM! At first, I was like, "Who is shooting off fireworks in an ice storm?!" Until I realized it was the transformer across the street. I had to do my hair and make-up by the light of a few candles. I nearly singed my hair trying to get the candle closer to my face so I could see! Since, I couldn't make breakfast (and we didn't have any cereal in the house) I went outside to clean off my car, which was thoroughly encased in ice. Trying to relieve the poor windshield wiper from the thick ice surrounding it, I accidentally broke the wiper. Broke it into 15 million pieces. Flaco had to take one from his car and put it on mine (he wouldn't need his car because he can walk the two blocks to work). I got to work fine, thank God.
     Now, this is not the first time I have broken a toe. I am something of a klutz and have managed to damage my poor phalanges previously. It hurts. Taping the toes together and wearing sturdy shoes helps and after a day or so the pain lessens and you almost forget you broke your toe (until you stub it again). But, this time it hurt so bad, I could hardly walk. The pain was making my head hurt (probably from grimacing) and my stomach ache. But, worse than the pain, my toe was seriously pointing in the wrong direction and I was afraid if someone didn't "pop" it back into place it would forever be deformed. I'll admit it, I was thinking about wearing sandals with a deformed toe and was feeling pretty vain, so I decided to call my doctor's office. The doctor was not in the office today, the rude receptionist informed me. She suggested I go to the ER or an urgent care facility. I have been using quite a few hours of my "sick" time for doctors appointment lately, so I did not want to leave work early today. So, I just gimped around all day. After work I went to the urgent care center and was seen right away. I peeled off my winter boot and sock gingerly and the doctor picked off the tape. My toe had blossomed into a purple bloated monster, vaguely resembling my toe (although, my pedicure from a few weeks ago still looks very nice). She pressed a few places, asking if it hurt, then said I would need to get an X-ray to make sure my joint was not broken. The X-ray technician asked if there was a chance I could be pregnant. Boy, what a loaded question! I explained that while I was trying to get pregnant, I was not currently pregnant because I just saw the little follicles on Tuesday and they are still all snug as a bug in a rug in my ovaries. She let me see the X-rays right after they were taken, which was cool, and it didn't take a doctor to see the break. The second to last toe is broken right above the joint where the toe joins the foot. The doctor put on a soft cast so I can't walk and sent me home with crutches. Seriously. I need this like I need a hole in my head! Good news? The electricity came back on around noon and my husband's windshield wiper worked just fine on my car.
     So, tomorrow I am returning to the Infertility Doctor for a blood test and for another ultrasound to check on the little follicles. Poor Flaco has to take me there and then to work. He will need to come get me after work too, since I can't drive with this cast on. I could take the cast off, but it looks to hard to get back on by myself. And with it, I am in a lot less pain. I will have to make an appointment with an orthopedic doctor to get the toe set and get a fancy boot cast. I wonder how I will get my damaged appendage into the stirrups tomorrow . . . . ? I am such a hot mess!

The doctor says. . . .

     This afternoon, before the impending ice storm entraps us in our house, we had yet another appointment with the Infertility Doctor. First, the obligatory vial of blood, then they performed a saline ultrasound. Now, generally when a doctor prescribes you a medication for pain, even if it is just extra-strength Ibuprofen, you kind of expect the procedure to hurt like H-E-double-hockey-sticks. But for me, it wasn't painful, just a slight cramp, not even as bad as a period cramp. I was more uncomfortable about the nursing student hovering in the corner (I think I mentioned before that I am not a fan of putting the hoo-ha out there for all the world to see - even under the guise of medical necessity). I am in the oh-so-familiar compromised position, feet firmly in the stirrups when they jack the table up into the air and tilt me back like some crazy slo-mo tilt-a-whirl. I suppose this was to better position me for the spec, tube, and water they were squirting inside. So, the ultrasound revealed that my uterus is empty which I guess means no fibroids or other abnormalities. The nurse assured me this is good news. So, it basically boils down to my inability to ovulate, which they are treating with Clomid (for now). The doctor and nurse counted 3-4 follicles developing in my ovaries and we are hoping these little suckers can squeeze past the cysts and find a nice new home in my (empty) uterus. Then the doctor muttered, "There is a chance of twinning," which reminded me of when we had sheep and they had lambs - I don't know why. . . . So, I go back on Thursday for another ultrasound and more blood (for the love!!!) to check on those little follicles. Then they will tell us when to do the nasty. In the meantime, we are crossing our fingers so that we do not lose power in what has been termed "the storm of the century." I think it is a little too early to start calling anything "the event of the century," considering we are only into the second decade of the century, although I suppose none of us will be around to see if there is another storm to top this one. . . . . Think happy follicle thoughts!
     This round of Clomid has resulted in serious hot-flashes! I have been having a lot of my own personal summers. The dizziness hasn't been too bad and the headaches seem to have subsided. BUT . . . . The hormones! Holy Hannah Montana! Last night, I wanted to rip my husband to shreds, just for irritating me. Tonight, I could bawl my eyes out and I can't figure out why (other than the evil Clomid). I am crazy hormonal lady all over again. I did not miss this hot-mess-city last month (when I was not taking Clomid). All for the sake of filling my arms with our beautiful baby. . . .