29

Well, another month has passed without any exciting news to announce.  I'm numb.

29 reasons why 29 is my least favorite number...

1. My cycle is 29 days.
2. On every 29th day, I've only ever received bad news. 
3. I've never not (yes, I know this is a double negative, but when you feel like someone has sucker-punched you in the gut for the millionth time in a row, grammar rules are allowed to be thrown out the window) been graced with AF's presence on the 29th day.
4. I have never seen two pink lines on the 29th day (nor have I on any other day before, or after, the 29th day for that matter) (I swear it's impossible that two pink lines even exist).
5. Today, being the 29th day of my cycle, I woke up to a BBT that plummeted.  Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed!
6. The 29th day undoubtedly brings upon tears. 
7. Lots of tears.
8. If the 29th day is a weekday (such as today), I end up running late for work due to said tears.  My biggest pet peeve is being late.
9. After tears have been shed, I move on to the next stage of grief: anger.
10. In the midst of my anger, I start (loudly) rambling on about all the things we're (in my distorted opinion) "doing wrong".  For example: WHY DO WE LIVE IN A HOUSE IN THE SUBURBS OF BOSTON IF WE HAVE ROOMS THAT WE WILL NEVER FILL?!?!?!?  WE SHOULD JUST PICK UP AND MOVE INTO THE CITY SOMEWHERE!  HECK, LET'S PICK UP AND MOVE TO A CITY FAR AWAY - WITHOUT KIDS, WHO CARES WHERE WE ARE!
11. My comments shouted in a fit of rage, in turn, (naturally) upsets my husband.
12. My upset husband is now also running late for work.
13. Cue the tears (again).
14. Cramps (thanks for the reminder that I'm not pregnant, again, AF).
15. Not knowing how I'll make it through the day...
16. ...Or the next 29 days for that matter.
17. On the 29th day, in pretty much an instant, my hope is lost...
18. ...my faith is buried...
19. ...and my heart is swollen with hurt.
20. On the 29th day, I'm instantly worried about what the next 29th day will bring.
21. On the 29th day, I eventually figure out how to put one foot in front of the other and get through my daily responsibilities and tasks at work, but every few minutes a wave of pain washes over me and I'm brought back to the very feeling I felt the second I woke up to a temperature of 96.8.
22. My swollen eyes that sting with every blink they take.
23. Have I mentioned those unwanted cramps?
24. The feeling of shame.  There I said it.  A part of me feels ashamed that I'm (so far) un-fit and unable to get pregnant.
25. Do I call CCRM now to schedule my ODW?
26. Will God EVER answer our prayers?
27. Why me? 
28. Why us?
29. And most of all, the reason that 29 is my least favorite number is because on the 29th day of my cycle, I'm left with feeling scared.  Scared that I won't ever become a Mom to my own child.  Scared that I'll never truly feel happy again.  Scared that no one can take this pain away from me.  Scared that my life will forever feel unfulfilled.

Today I'm praying that tomorrow comes quickly and that I awake with a newfound sense of hope and faith and with the strength to somehow start this cycle yet again. 

I just wish I knew...

I just listened to my (pregnant) co-worker go on and on about all the things she wishes she just knew about how she would deliver her baby girl in December.  What type of delivery would she have?  Would she want to be medicated?, etc. etc. etc.  She was saying that she just wishes that someone could tell her that on X date her baby would be here, or that her delivery would take X amount of hours.  I just sat there and stared into space.  While I know that if I were pregnant, I would for sure be thinking and perhaps even wishing to know the same things.  Only, I'm not pregnant.  And further, I don't even know if I ever will be... and that stings.  It stings more today than it did yesterday, than it did the day before that and even the day before that. 

This does not get easier.  The sadness doesn't dissipate.  The anger continues to fester.  My heart continues to swell with hurt.  The tears don't dry up (in fact, when I'm not crying on the outside, my tears are drowning my heart and soul on the inside).  The fear and worry grow.  And the question still remains... Will I ever get pregnant with my own child?

That is the only thing that I just wish I knew...

exhausted

I'm exhausted today.  Literally, I feel like it's taking all of my energy to keep going.  I'm counting the hours, minutes and seconds until I can just go to bed.  In fact, I'd be laying in bed right now but unfortunately, five loads of laundry stand in my way.  So, here I sit to blog while I wait for load one of my clothes to dry so I can start to fold... and then I get to repeat that four more times... Ugh.

I think most of my exhaustion is stemming from the bridal shower I attended today.  Two and a half years after my own wedding, I sit at a bridal shower for the fiancee of my husband's best friend, baby-less.  It's hard because that is the only thought that goes through my mind.  Our dear friends will be married in December and a few months ago while taking a walk around the neighborhood with my husband, I distinctly remember saying that I just really wanted to be pregnant by the time their wedding rolls around.  December is now only a little more than two months away and sadly, we're not even close to our dream. 

Social outings are difficult when you have such painful feelings resonating inside.  The feelings of sadness and despair are so strong that it seems near impossible to smile and be able to focus on other things.  Conversation amongst my friends about weddings, engagements, house-hunting and even those darned cute things (their) children say and do filled the air today... I felt like a giant blob on the outside just trying to hang on with all of my might to that half smile that I somehow mustered up to plaster on my face.  It was a nice day, but it was exhausting.  My mind is always working over-time and doubly hard in social settings.  The question that is asked over and over in my head: "will I ever be a mother to my own child(ren)?" - is a question that leaves the possibility of an answer with a negative outcome that near paralyzes me.  That mental paralysis in turn, makes it near impossible to focus enough to be a part of the conversation at hand. 

I made it through the luncheon and came home to unload all of my fears and worries out on my husband (lucky him!).  I just can't seem to escape the fear, worry and sadness lately.  My mind is spinning this evening.  I'm exhausted and am ready to go to sleep to dream of a world where infertility doesn't exist. 

Dear God



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Dear God:

I pray that You give me the strength to get through this day.

Dear God:

I pray that You give me the strength to get through this gut-wrenching, awful, terribly painful time in my life.

Dear God:

I pray that even though I'm going through all of this, that you help me to still see the good in life, to still smile and think positively.

Dear God:

I pray that You continue to guide me and help me to make the best decisions for what next steps I should take in this journey of infertility.

Dear God:

I pray that I'll someday (soon) shed more tears of joy than I've shed of sadness since dealing with infertility.

Dear God:

I pray that You know I'm not really angry with You and that You know that sometimes it's just easier for me to say that I am than to say that I still love You with all of my heart even though my heart is breaking... a lot.

Dear God:

I pray, above all else, that Your plan for me is to be a Mom.

The haves vs. the have-nots

I'm quickly learning that even within the world of infertility, many times there becomes a very clear line differentiating the "haves" from the "have-nots".  Three years ago, I was sitting in the chair at my hairdresser's salon talking to her about infertility (her infertility... I had no idea that my eggs were old yet; I was getting married that winter and life was but a dream).  I remember letting her know that my sister in-law (who dealt with a bout of infertility as well, to include: years of trying to conceive naturally, IUI's and a couple of IVF's) just happened to get pregant on her own during a break from infertility treatment (!!! - she then got pregnant again (!!!) - naturally (!!!) when my nephew was a year old!!!).  Looking back, I can't even believe that story would have come out of my mouth... how insensitive of me to tell my hairdresser, who at that point had been through it ALL, about my sister in-law's brush with pure luck.  I'll never forget her response:  yeah, yeah... people share stories with me like that all the time.  I'm different though, it's not going to happen for me.  Our conversation quickly shifted to my wedding details (knowing how I feel now, as someone who is dealing with infertility, I'm sure she was the one who steered the conversation in a different direction, all the while breathing in a huge sigh of relief when I started talking flowers, music choices, etc.).

Fast forward a little more than a year from that date (at this point, this was just a couple of months before my husband and I decided to throw caution to the wind, ourselves), I was in the chair at my hairdresser's salon again and she told me that she was pregnant!  She, too, had conceived on her own while waiting to start on her next (and what would be her last) IVF cycle.  Once my hairdresser had her son and returned to work, I was in the throughs of my own infertility treatment and filled her in on everything that I'd been dealing with - she was probably the most understanding person I'd spoken to at that point in my life and quickly my every six week hair appointment became like a therapy session for me... Until just about three months ago when I went in for my appointment just after my second failed IVF cycle.  My hairdresser was pregnant... again... (she conceived naturally, again) and while I am still over-the-moon SO excited for her (really, I am!), my hair appointments quickly shifted to being just that - an appointment to color my roots - and a lot less of a therapy session for me.

My sister in-law and my hairdresser are so, beyond lucky.  I know that they know that.  But they've both shifted from women dealing with the heartaches of infertility to women who have (or will have) two children - their infertility is in the past.  I'm jealous of that.  I'm jealous of them.  They were both in my camp at one time:  the have-nots.  Now, they are the haves.  And while I don't believe that someone who has once dealt with infertility ever entirely recovers from it (I believe that regardless of what ends up happening for me, infertility will always be something that will define me - with or without children - for the rest of my life), I do believe that you can move on from it.  Once you have children, I'd imagine it's pretty hard not to leave that ugly, ugly time in your life behind. 

So, I get it.  I understand why it's now so easy for my sister in-law and hairdresser to tell me that it will happen - that they know it completely sucks for me more than anything in life itself - but that they believe that I, too, will have happy news to share of my own someday (hopefully) soon.  It's just hard because now, I'm the one thinking and saying: yeah, yeah... people share stories with me like yours all the time.  I'm different though, it's not going to happen for me.  I'm scared to think anything different... every morning, day and night I pray that I'm wrong - I pray that God answers my prayers just as he did for my sister in-law and hairdresser.

Infertility Isolation

Sometimes, actually most of the time these days, it seems as if I'm living in a world full of fertile myrtles.  Literally, my friends and acquaintances seem to all get pregnant at the drop of a hat.  Conversations tend to surround me about planning on when to start trying to conceive, or about how it just sort of happened the first month we (clearly, not me!) tried not to try.  Gag me.  This is where the blogosphere has really helped me.  In fact,  I accredit 90% of my blog to others' blogs about infertility journeys - these blogs have been so much a part of what has kept me going.  Blogs about infertility are one of the only things that make me feel less alone and isolated.

Isolation is one of the most difficult parts of infertility that I've encountered thus far in my journey.  Yes, the countless doctors' appointments, needles, blood draws, injections as well as the weight gain and roller coaster of emotions have their fair share of difficulty as well, but it's the feeling of being alone that really stings.  Now, I know I'm anything but alone as I walk this path of my life...  First, my husband has been nothing less than amazing throughout all of this.  From day one.  He has been and continues to be my rock.  I know he is suffering himself and he is so, so, so gracious to put all of my feelings before his own.  He tells me all the time that his job is to be the positive one.  He says that I can do the crying and have the anger; he will have the good thoughts - enough for both of us.  I love him for that more than I can express in words.  It brings tears to my eyes when he tells me that God's plan was for us to find each other for a reason, and perhaps all of this is part of that reason, regardless of how it all pans out.  Second, I know that I have my family.  They don't always know what to say (and that's ok!), but they know how to listen (really well!) and when to embrace me just when I need those welcoming arms of comfort (whether in-person or over the phone), they even know how to help me to think outside of the box (thanks, mom!)... but that said, even with all of the love and support of those around me, infertility has still caused me to feel isolated... Isolated from the world, really. 

On Saturday, I spent the day doing errands - I was on a mission to purchase a few new items for my bathroom and bedroom.  Even with thoughts of Pottery Barn shower curtains and throw pillows for my bed consuming my mind, the physical heartache of infertility crept in and it was almost as if I could see it start to take over.  I felt like every person that walked past me was either pushing a baby carriage or carrying a Destination Maternity bag, proudly rubbing their adorable baby bump RIGHT IN MY FACE (!!!!!).  I felt so alone.  Like I was the only person sans baby (or baby on board) in the entire mall.  When these feelings of infertility isolation creep in, it's difficult for me to move forward and continue on with my life - so, that's when I called it quits for the day... I went home (and snuggled with my pup for the rest of the afternoon) and prayed to God that this all ends (favorably, with a baby!) soon!

Infertility Calendars

I don't know why... but I've diligently recorded on monthly calendars every single doctor's appointment, ultrasound, blood draw, injection of Follistim, injection of Lupron, tablet of Clomid, acupuncture appointment, period, positive LH surge from ovulation predictor kits, etc., etc., etc. over the past 9 months (it's been 9 months since I first met with my RE).  Essentially, I've recorded ev-ery-thing.  The other night while writing down my acupuncture appointments scheduled for this week, I pulled out all of my calendars.  I dragged my husband off the couch over to the kitchen table to show him everything I've (we've) been through (as if he didn't already know).  I don't know why, but I felt a very small sense of pride when looking over everything (in addition to feeling very overwhelmed and frustrated that even after having done all of this that we're still baby-less)...

But back to the pride... It was a little reassurance that yes, while we've been through oh so very much the past 9 months, we can (and will!!!) keep going.

One More Month

Last Tuesday I had everything figured out.  We had our call with CCRM the night before and after tossing and turning all night about what our next steps would be, I awoke on Tuesday with a clear mind and a vision... A vision of finishing up this month of herbs, doing an IVF cycle locally in October, heading to CCRM in November for the one day work-up, doing the testosterone priming in Decemeber and then heading to Colorado for our IVF cycle in January.  I was content and pleased with the plan (I always need a plan!)... And then I went to acupuncture that night (last Tuesday)...

When I excitedly mentioned to my acupuncturist that I was on my third month of herbs, he kindly suggested that I add an extra month to my (what I like to call) "herb protocol".  He said that he is starting to see a change (for the positive) in my cycle and that he believes with one additional month of herbs that we'll really see a difference.  I was so annoyed.  Mentally, I was really starting to feel ready for another IVF cycle.  So much so that my husband and I even considered having me quit my last month of herbs (this month) and jump right in to an IVF cycle.  But after some consideration, I realized that I made a committment to try the herbs for three months and I knew I should stick with it, even though I really didn't want to... I think that my readiness for another IVF cycle was magnified after our call with CCRM - the wheels had begun to spin in my head and I really thought that I was ready for the supplements, medications, shots, (and even the flights and bills!) that were to lie ahead.  I was baffled at the thought of doing herbs for another cycle.  One month/cycle is essentially a lifetime to a woman faced with infertility.  It's a cycle that starts with so much hope and faith but always ends in utter heartache and thoughts that make it impossible to imagine being able to pick yourself up and move on to yet another month of the same thing...

Even though I was irritated by the initial thought of a fourth month of herbs, deep down I knew that I would just suck it up and do it.  Driving home from my appointment last week, I called my husband and (not so quietly) vented my frustrations to him about all of this.  He patiently and quietly listened to me - letting me express my disdain for the "stupid herbs!" (note: I don't really think that the herbs are stupid; I wouldn't have done them in the first place if really thought that - I was/am just expressing my frustrations) .  When I got home, my husband and I talked about everything and we agreed that we didn't want the last couple of months of herbs to have been a waste... and so, with that, the decision was made.  A fourth month it is.  Am I happy about it?  Not entirely.  Do I still think I'm ready for IVF?  More than ever.  But... it is what it is.  I had my plan mapped out just the way I thought it should, and just the way I wanted it to go and BAM! in a matter of 24 hours, my plan changed.  I guess God works that way.  It's a reminder that His plan supercedes mine.  And I'm fine with all of that, really.  As long as God's plan results in a baby for us.

We're still praying...

California in collages and an update...

First, an update on the IF front... This afternoon I had my annual (which actually hasn't been so annual - my last appointment was almost 2 years ago!) GYN appointment, which I was dreading (one of CCRM's requirements is to have an up to date and all-clear pap test result).  It's funny (actually, it's not), because prior to my collision with life as an infertile, I despised this annual, invasive exam.  But since basically becoming BFF's (not by choice) with every doctor in my local RE's practice, this exam is a piece of cake... and the invasive part of it is actually the thing that bothers me the least! 

You see, the thing I dreaded the most about today's appointment was having to sit in a room full of pregnant women waiting for their monthly check-up.  Just thinking about having to deal with this appointment made those terrible feelings of infertility isolation come out full force... and those feelings just about suffocated me.  Somehow though, by the grace of God, there was not one (visibly) pregnant woman in the waiting room at my appointment this afternoon.  I'm left to believe that He must have known it was all I could handle to just be back there for my annual exam as opposed to eagerly awaiting to hear my baby's heartbeat for the first time with my husband...

Enough on that though (sorry for the rant).  I'm really here to share some California collages that I threw together.  We had THE.BEST time.  A vacation during all of this infertility stuff was very much needed - for both of us.  We were on-the-go pretty much every day and I'm beyond thankful to God for affording us this opportunity (especially at this point in our lives).  We were busy for 8 nights and 9 days and our minds were shifted just a little bit from the heart-ache that we experience on a daily basis.

Day 1: San Francisco - first sight of the Golden Gate Bridge, amazing snack at Hot Spuds, Fisherman's Wharf, city tour on an open roof top bus, Pier 39 and delicious clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl

Night 1: San Francisco - Alcatraz

Day 2: San Francisco - bike riding across the Golden Gate bridge, Alamo Square, Sausalito, Lombard Street and Ghirardelli goodies

Night 2: San Francisco - Delicious dinner in San Fran's Little Italy (North Beach) and enjoying a bottle of red wine (an early birthday surprise from good friends) in front of the fire at our hotel

Day 3: Monterey - first day driving down the PCH, AMAZING brunch at the Wagon Wheel in Carmel, Cannery Row in Monterey and 17 mile drive

Day 4: Big Sur, Danish town of Solvang and Nick's golf debut at Pebble Beach

 Day 5: Santa Barbara & Los Angeles - SB palm trees and pier,  The Grove in LA and the Hollywood sign

Day 6: OUR BIRTHDAY in LA - Warner Bros. Studios tour, Grauman's Chinese Theatre, pool day at the Beverly Hilton in Beverly Hills and dinner at El Coyote

Day 7: Laguna & San Diego - feet in the Pacific Ocean at Laguna Beach, delicious crepe breakfast in Palas Verdes, San Diego Zoo & more Ghirardelli goodies

Day 8: Coronado Bay - Pool day in Coronado and a beautiful sunset to end our amazing vacation!