Not So Stupid Afterall

Deciding how to begin this post is challenging. It is probably best read in the light of the last two or three posts to understand the full impact of what we are experiencing (should you care to).

We are 9 weeks and 3 days pregnant. We did not undergo any fertility treatments. After what I assumed would be a negative pregnancy test at the end of April, I was about to order $2500 worth of medicine for my first round of In Vitro Fertilization (IVF). We originally were going to start IVF in April, but due to financial constraints decided to put it off until this summer. But we got pregnant in April on our own, absolutely the very first time in my life that I ever conceived. I had a sonogram yesterday and saw a little bean with arms and legs kicking and punching. He or she has a heartbeat in the 170s and is measuring an inch long, the perfect size for how far along I am.

I would like to tell you that when I saw that second line on the pregnancy test that I dropped to my knees and wept, as I thought I would. I would like to tell you that when I saw the heartbeat for the first time that I sobbed, but I didn't. Truth be told, when I saw the positive pregnancy test, I panicked, honestly, the same way I think any new mom might. We had never allowed ourselves to really dream about what our life would look like if I did get pregnant. After 4 failed IUIs, you become good at preparing for disappointment, and dreaming of things working out is not part of that preparation. My panic was good old garden variety, "Oh my gosh! What are we going to do?!" And your thoughts immediately range from where you're going to put a nursery, what will we do for childcare, how will we pay for college and HOW DOES ONE CARE FOR A BABY?! And perhaps the scariest question of all was, is this real? When you've convinced yourself that you are not normal, you don't trust it. I needed more confirmation.

I gave myself permission long ago to let myself be whatever I genuinely am when/if I became pregnant because, after all of this, no one can question how appreciative I am to be a mom. After about 30 minutes of panic, an overwhelming sense of peace came over me that even though I was scared out of my mind, we WANTED this. There was no question of this. Everything else we would just work out.

When I saw the heartbeat, I was relieved. I was happy, but I wasn't tearful and I couldn't explain why. I was waiting for the crossing the finish line moment, but no. I still don't understand it fully, but perhaps I just couldn't believe it. It is so hard to live with guarded hope for so long and then simply drop it. Perhaps I was a little angry that I had worked so hard to convince myself of my infertility when maybe that wasn't necessary? I was frustrated that I had labled myself infertile, to fight the hope that wasn't nearly as unjustified as I had forced myself to believe.

But then...

Tim and I were moving this weekend. If you haven't moved within the past year, you have forgotten the absolute hell that this experience is. I had stopped to eat something in the apartment we were moving out of, sitting there by myself surrounded by chaos. Earlier that day, I had taken this picture down. Around New Years of 2010 I had created something of a "vision board". I had taken a few pictures and put them inside of my medicine cabinet as a reminder of things I hoped for. More than any picture I found, I loved this one more than any of them. This was a dog, that reminded me of my Scarlett, resting her head on a pregnant belly. Pictures of babies and nurseries and random pregnancy photos didn't resonate with me, because I couldn't see anything about them that I could relate to. I loved this picture because this was a scene I could see as a reality in my life, should my wishes be fulfilled.

As I was eating, I texted my sister-in-law who is a professional photographer and asked her if we could re-create it. She said sure and that we could also do a follow-up picture after the baby has arrived, with the dogs and baby.

I had my moment. Sitting there by myself, the full reality and appreciation for what was really going to happen overwhelmed me and I cried and cried. It was as if I had been granted some unbelievable favor, as though I had been pardoned of a struggle I can't say I deserved, but certainly felt was my burden. I realized that I actually would be capable of re-creating that picture. My belly would grow with our new baby. I accepted that we had been given what we wanted for so long.

A few days later we had the sonogram I mentioned earlier. I had no idea we would see such a lively baby so early on.

We are over the moon and I feel overwhelmed by such a gift of grace.

Love and thanks to you all for walking with me on this journey. My heart is so unbelievably full.

You just feel so stupid.

Even though we are committed to moving forward with IVF this summer, we still pay attention to my body and timing and "try" the way any couple would. And, inevitably, you are faced with a conundrum on what to do as you end your cycle. You spend two weeks after possible ovulation doing everything you can to not think about it at all. Then, as the end of your cycle draws closer, you very secretly hope that maybe you're pregnant, but you also try with all of your might not to dream about a positive test. Not to think of the money you would save. Not to think about how you will get to forego all of the shots and hormones and procedures and discomfort. You do your best to not imagine telling your friends and family the same way any other married couple might, surprising them with the news. No, don't think like that. You tell yourself over and over that this cannot and will not happen naturally for you. Let that dream go. It feels necessary to embrace the belief that IVF is the only way so that you will move forward with it. You tell yourself that there's no hope so when your cycle inevitably ends the way it always does, the disappointment doesn't devastate you. You are infertile. No exceptions. You just wait for the unmistakable sign that your cycle is over and, if you're lucky, it shows up right when it needs to. You tell yourself you're not surprised and go on with your day. For the following week, you're a bit more sensitive, but it fades. But then, there are months when the cycle seems just a touch longer and you are left feeling hopeful, despite yourself. Those pangs of hope are tainted with shame because, how dare you let yourself think this could happen for you? You are not the type of person who gets pregnant. Typing it out, I hear how rough it sounds, but it's a protective inner voice that tells you not to go down that road, don't let yourself dream, because that single line on the test will devastate you if you go all in, or even halfway in. But you've gotta know. Some months, you've eventually got to take the test. If the test is negative and you're very late, it is possible that your cycles are out of whack which means the PCOS has flared up and you are not as healthy as you need to be. Double downer. Or, you think, despite yourself, "Maybe the test is wrong?" I'm sure I don't need to elaborate on what a mind bender that is. However, the more likely scenario is you take the test and then your period starts the next day. By far the hardest part is the test itself. When that negative verdict is read, as it always is, you just feel so stupid. Of course it's negative. You're infertile. I suppose, even at our most guarded, we are hard-wired for hope.

Barreling Down the Road

It was a long time ago, but I saw the movie Gerry and hated it. It's a story of these guys (Matt Damon and Casey Affleck) who find themselves stranded off the long, desolate back roads of America when their car breaks down. It's no Deliverance, just two normal guys who lose their way and wander around looking for a way back to civilization. The film takes the viewer on this monotonous trip with them. You hear the crunch of the ground under their feet for two hours that feel like and represent days. You get exhausted with them. You want to figure out the direction they should head so that the damn movie will end already. You want a coyote to eat them or for them to just find their way back and put everyone out of their misery.

Analogy.

Done.

The waiting is getting old and although I may attempt to distract myself, to keep myself busy, all I think about is getting to the point where we are finally making forward movement, but instead it feels like we are walking in circles, just waiting until the moment we can get started with accepting our fate, one way or another.

I surprised myself the other day when I told a friend, even if IVF doesn't work, I'll be happy this is finally over. I shocked myself when I said it because I was so surprised by how very much I meant it, an indication of how hard this quiet, boring place is to be. The waiting. Feeling stuck. This limbo, bit by bit, makes you so tired. You don't want to think about it anymore. You don't want to talk about it. You're done talking. You're done thinking, although that is all you can do and can't stop yourself from doing. You want to take action. It is just time to throw the dice and accept your winnings or loss. Let me be pregnant or let me grieve, because either at least represents movement.

The clip below is ironically named "Barreling Down the Road". Enjoy. Or don't, cause that's not the point.



Unrelated commentary. It is clearly a really great film because, I still remember the experience and I'm freakin' blogging about it 10 years later. Some things hurt good.

Postponed

One of my previous blogs was about career and finances. Upon reflection, I realize a part of that was motivated by being in my early 30s and at a natural place to re-evaluate.

However, I also now know some of that was at least partially due to the anxiety produced by the cost of IVF. Apparently being a parent is expensive. This part just starts on the front end for us. Que sera sera.

I'm really good at not wanting things to be problems so I try not to give them any attention. The financial burden of this is a problem. Clearly I can't pretend it isn't. Through all of this I'm learning to let my best be good enough. We won't be able to have it all paid for before we do it. We can be as smart and conservative as possible and then will have to navigate the rest of it as we go. "Let go. Let God." (Thanks Al Anon)

In light of this, I am able to manipulate my benefits at work better if we wait until this summer rather than April as we had planned for IVF. Coming to terms with this was initially very difficult but what more can you do than come to a place of acceptance.

So, just a few more months. I never wanted to become a more patient person, but it seems as though the powers that be think it is important.

Love to you all.

A New Year and Surrender

A colleague of mine told me a story about a woman she was working with, attempting to overcome her addiction to cocaine. This woman had done everything she could for many years in an attempt to get better, slowly deteriorating and doing horrible damage to her family. She fought hard, all the time. Each relapse leading to more guilt and shame, triggering her to use, causing her to fight harder...

Finally, one day, she came to the office of my colleague and was encouraged to surrender. This was a fight she could not win. She was not in control of her disease, her addiction. She simply could not fight this away. She had to accept this wasn't up to her. She had to admit "she is powerless" (1st step in AA).

It seems counterintuitive. It seems that surrendering to her addiction would only mean she would spiral further. But she didn't. She got better. She remained sober months later.

She gave herself over and got out of her own way.

This story struck me as mystical. I don't understand it but I believe in it.

After my last blog, in a way, I surrendered. I admitted that everything else felt rather insignificant in light of what my hopes are. Although that was depressing for a while, there came some sort of freedom in it as well.

There is something liberating about letting go and being honest, about being exactly what you are, in the place that you are, without putting any value statements on it, simply accepting life on its own terms.

I'm not miserable. At times I may be a bit depressed, but it seems like a normal reaction to having a goal constantly thwarted. Its normal. We will have extraordinary moments in this life and more challenging ones as well.

So, as we rang in this New Year, I wasn't concerned with how many people we hung out with or even new resolutions. I only want one thing in the coming year and there isn't a lot I can do about that for now. And, so, I will accept my life, which is a very good one, on its own terms. I'm done fighting. I surrender.

Driven to Distraction

They say that there are some babies who never really crawl, they just go from sitting to walking one day. That's not a good thing. They found that these children, as they grow older, tend to not fight battles they can't win. They grow frustrated with obstacles that don't come fairly easily to them. They sometimes lack frustration tolerance. They excel but pick their battles.

I didn't crawl much.

I think this is part of the reason I was so hesitant to start infertility treatment. If it was a matter of working hard to get it, I could sign on for that but I wanted to know steps 1,2 and 3 would lead me to my goal. Let me sit back, figure it out, and then I would walk into it. That's not how it works. When you first go to a consult at an infertility doctor's office you don't know what your journey will be. You don't know if you're one of the easy ones who gets pregnant after a first and simple try or if you will be the woman who needs 3 costly cycles of In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) or if, no matter what you try, you will not carry your own child, or, perhaps my greatest fear, you will miscarry, maybe even more than once.

So, I hesitated, for fear that I would become one of the women who was fighting the infertility battle for years.

Because I know myself. I know that if I throw myself in, I am ALL IN.

Also, at some point along the way, I decided that I wouldn't make choices based on fear. I would use fear as a warning if necessary but that it would not be the ultimate reason I did or did not do something. And so we moved forward. A life worth living requires courage.

But this is what I was afraid of.

To allow just one dream to consume you is dangerous, risky. Your perspective is lost.

And, if I'm honest, all I am doing is waiting until I can be pregnant. I AM READY to have a baby, children, a family of my own, and, until that point, everything else is simply meaningless, white noise. I know, in reality, that it is not, but I can't feel it.

I know the work I do is important. I know I will miss my freedom. I know I will hate morning sickness. I know I will be awful without sleep. I know I should be enjoying myself. I know I should be grateful.

But, I can't.

I'm tried desperately to keep myself occupied, entertained, distracted, happy, appreciative so that I would not feel the emptiness in everything else in the time between now and when I could have a baby.

But, I just can't.

I need the next chapter to begin.

The distractions DO work for a little bit. I'm not pretending to be anything I'm not when out with friends or family. The relief just doesn't last long.

And then I get afraid that I have placed WAY TOO MUCH on this child I hope to have. And what a terrifying idea that is, that this little bundle of joy will be responsible for lifting me from my depression and solve all of my problems. Cause that's how it works right? No, I know that is fucking sick.

But, here's the thing. I was not a depressed person who needed something to fill a void and decided it was a child. I was pretty content until I allowed myself to be honest about my hopes for a family, until we threw ourselves into this fight we didn't know we would win. I knew the risk of opening myself up to this, to investing my thoughts, energy, time, and health, to fully look my desire in the face and accept I can't do this on my own, that this isn't going to work naturally for us. I knew this could make me crazy.

And it has.

This desire comes from such a deep and primal place. I can't truly compare it to anything else.

And I wonder if I have blown it all out of proportion.

But then I see families together. I see mothers being mothers and think, "No. If you're going to lose your mind, this is a good reason to do it."

So forget losing 10 more pounds or learning to sew or making a new recipe. I'll do it if the mood strikes. I've been trying to care about other things but I just don't.

This child I hope to have is my marathon and, my God, will you see tears if I make it to the finish line.

This is it.

So, it appears as though all I needed was what I felt like I needed. I needed company, good conversation, Leaves of Grass by Whitman, time with my husband, some lazy, restful days, amazing food and apparently a few white Christmas lights in my living room.

This, is what life is made of. When I find myself feeling restless, I've tried to tell myself, over and over, "This is it. This is your life." If I am always looking ahead, just waiting, I will miss this.

When I have a child I will trade this restlessness for lack of rest. So. This is it. For now. And it has to be enough because this is all there is.

American Beauty
At the end of a man's life, he narrarates:

"I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time... For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars... And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined my street... Or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper... And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird... And Janie... And Janie... And... Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday."

Spoiler Alert. If you haven't seen this movie, don't watch the clip: