Across the Street

It happened by coincidence--I was walking to the mailbox, and she was bringing up her trash can.

She yelled over to make sure we hadn't had any damage from the freak-November storm from the night before; said they lost their TV and had some branches in the yard that needed to be removed. I said luckily we had turned off our electronics in time, and that we had picked up the debris in the back yard. She said she hoped I didn't lift too much since I needed to be careful-no need to put pressure on "that belly"

I casually laughed and found it the appropriate time to offer my congratulations on the arrival of their adopted son, now 3 months old. For some reason, I had this sudden need to know he was real-so I asked, "Is it OK if I come meet your little guy?"

As I started across the street, I caught myself almost stopping a few times. I felt the pang of hurt come rushing back at me in small waves--however, not the tsunami type waves I used to feel.

I'll hit the pause button here (picture me mid-track across the street) to tell you why I hurt. Mook and I moved into our house exactly 4 years ago this month--and the first people to greet us were these neighbor's across the street. She: extremely outgoing and bubbly. He: southern guy who loves his sports and let's her do the talking. I didn't expect that we would be best friends, but it was nice to have people around our age that could introduce us to the area, join us for meals, and attend functions with. She even started helping me look for a job-and I was due to meet with a good friend of her's (who she repeatedly told me she never had anyone meet with, because her friend's time was so precious....oooook) but the weekend before, I had a seizure-out of town, too-, and was in the hospital for 3 days. I was so worried about this stupid job meeting, that I called her from the hospital to explain: that I was in the hospital, we were 3 hours away, and I wasn't sure when I'd be able to reschedule. I then handed the phone to Mook who went into further detail, and he kindly asked if they could take in our mail and just keep an eye on the house for us.

I didn't return home for another week, and when I did get home, I could tell Mook wasn't telling me something. When I finally got it out of him (he didnt want to upset me) he told me the mail had never been collected, and there had been 3-4 nasty messages on our machine from this woman who I was supposed to meet with.

I still to this day don't know exactly what happened: if she thought I lied to her about being sick, or if she just got bored of us being the new kids on the block, but for whatever reason--she dropped us like trash. Didn't call, never spoke to us when we passed on the street, and looked annoyed whenever we made the attempt to speak to her. It really upset me--more than it probably should have, but having to deal with all of that after being so sick, with no job prospects, and even fewer friends nearby, it just made me so bitter. So honestly, 3 1/2 years have gone by with no effort on their part to be even slightly neighborly.

So needless to say, when Mook and I drove home one day a few months ago and saw blue balloons and a "Welcome Baby Boy" sign on their mailbox, we were quite curious. Of course I wouldn't know if she had been pregnant, because they come and go through their garage, so I never saw her. But our question was answered a few days later when Mook was outside, and they come walking by with this newborn, and strike up a light conversation with Mook--he said he looked behind him when they started talking to make sure they really were talking to him!

Their little boy had been adopted right at birth, and he was 5 weeks at the time--they were so in love, and just doing so great, and we should stop over sometime--they also offered congratulations to Mook about our news (no idea how they found out). And that was that.

Un-pause. So as Im walking in the house, she just goes on and on about how fast time has already gone, and how much they love having him. And as she handed him over to me to hold, she said: "I keep telling the adoption agency not to refer anyone to us to talk about adoption, because our story was too good to be true--we only waited 8 months! BUT, tell anyone with infertility to come and talk to me, and I can give them a thorough lesson."

It's like time stood still in that moment. I looked down at her son, felt my son kick me, and wondered if she thought I was just another "lucky one." But also in that moment, I chose not to tell her about our 2 1/2 year struggle, because I felt like she didn't deserve to bond with me that way.

OK, I may have lost some of you on that last sentence: how could I not want to bond with someone right across the street from me about the crap that is IF!? But I hope more of you understand why I didn't. Maybe I should have let all the bitterness go of the past few years, but I almost felt robbed again by her, because maybe we could have gone through the IF struggle together, but because she shut off our budding friendship, I'll never know.

It's been hard for me to stop thinking about our run-in. Should I have at least said, "Oh I am sorry you all struggled, would you like to talk about it?" But then, would it have been hard for me to keep my own story to myself? I walked out of her house, and just shook my head--disappointed for the connection that could have been made.

Have any of you all gone through something like this? I am always speechless when I try to explain the meaningful connections I have made through being able to talk about infertility through blogging, and in the real world. This is the first time I've been confronted with another "comrade" in infertility, and chose to back out of the discussion-and it stings in so many ways.

It Still Stings

Let me get on my soapbox first thing:

To the Today Show: while I appreciate your effort in talking about infertility, your look into male factor was, at best, skimming the surface. This is, of course, just my opinion from where we personally stand in the male factor scheme of things...

I had seen Mel's announcement on L&F that Matt and crew would be talking about infertility all week, and it just so happened that yesterday, Mook and I were at home together in the early morning and turned on the news before getting out of bed. Just in time...the segment was just starting, and it was clear they would be talking about male factor.

It's amazing how quickly the mood shifted in that moment--I reached over for Mook's hand, and we watched the first 2 couple's they highlighted--one diagnosed with azoospermia, and one that had frozen his sperm due to cancer earlier in life. I was glad they highlighted the fact that it took one of the couple's more than just one try to conceive their little girl...it helps to hear that every now and then. Also, I am in no way downplaying either cases highlighted above: it's just hard for me, and especially Mook, when we don't see or hear medical experts and news programs talking about those (like Mook) who have had little to no answer (other than pure speculations: botched hernia surgery) as to why he has a certain count, motility and morphology. This aspect has always been very difficult for him.

Mook got up about half way through the last interview--we both could tell it wasn't going to highlight "someone like him"...I decided not to pry-I've learned when to just let it go. So again, while I am glad they took the time to report that male factor is now the cause of 50% of infertility cases, I look forward to the day that they are really looking at men's cases as much as women--I know this would have helped Mook identify with other men going through the same thing-isolation has been one of the toughest things for him.

-end of soapbox-

In other news: went in for my AFP testing yesterday--should have those results next week. As always, Ill be praying and holding my breath until then. No peek at Ron yesterday, but was able to talk with the OB--he showed me where the top of my uterus is now-right below my belly button-which helped convince me that the growth is where it needs to be. Heart rate is sticking around 143-145...do I dare to believe the old wives tale and think we have a true Ron, and not a Roni? We'll know for sure in 14 days...

I'm still getting those "what the heck is that" sort of pull/pinch, but was reassured yesterday that it's all the growth. Don't think I'll ever truly take that in! And I'm taking the one "advantage" of my previa (since the placenta is so low that he/she does not have to kick through it) to be that I have definitely felt Ron's fluttering...sort of like water rippling. It's not constant, but makes me jump when I feel it! Still battling the nose issues, and occasional stomach irritations-but energy is good during the day, and zilch by 6pm.

One thing I've had a really hard time admitting we need to do is: look into daycare. Truly, Mook has had to sit me down and have a chat, because I can't even bring myself to spend much time in the will-be-nursery yet...but I'm getting there. The whole thing is so foreign to me, and it's almost like playing house. I'm convinced the person on the other end of the line is smirking and thinking "what the hell is this woman doing looking for daycare for a child that's not even born yet."

One small step at a time, right?

The Hulk In Me...

It's ironic that I don't often deal with anger: I was born on the day that a volcano erupted, so it only seems natural that I would have "fiery" tendencies. But it's just not in my nature--sure, I get upset/sad/mad, but rarely angry.

So right now is one of those rare times. I have to say, I've calmed down quite a bit, but as I begin this post I can feel it bubbling, rising and turning me into the mean green machine. (I really am wearing green today...)

I am not going to tread lightly through this post. Be forewarned: I AM ANGRY! I will get the apologies out of the way now: I am in no way taking this out on anyone, (esp. my recent cycle sistas) so please know that I am placing no blame.

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Thursday was rough. Really, really rough...as I said before, no matter how much you prepare yourself for that phone call, it's just earth-shattering. It's the point of no return. You can hope and pray and wish until that very last moment. And then it's gone...

It was so final. No more embryos. No more shots. No more pills. As I am sure many of you do, you begin to get into a medicine routine, so when 8:30pm came Thursday night, we just sat there and the sound of the clock in our living room was the loudest silence I have ever heard. Mook was so upset--he was blaming himself, which we quickly addressed and agreed we needed to support each other: we couldn't grieve properly if we were isolating ourselves. I tend to isolate myself because of the feeling that it's my responsibility to nurture and care for the embryos once they are inside my body-and by getting a BFN, I view it as solely my failure. That's why I am so glad we have been able to find such a great counselor-it really helped us "focus" our grief, if that makes sense?

And then the anger came. My anger. I was yet again on the bad side of the statistics. Two great FET cycle sistas (Jen & Bleu) went through the week with me--we all had the same beta day. I was the one who ended up with a BFN. Even as I type this I have feelings of guilt for even expressing this type of anger, but it really has had a grip on me. Yet again, I was left out. Why the hell was I left out? Why are we being put through this? Why on the same day that we grieve, Mook's best friend and his wife tell us they are pregnant. Why do I have to watch my husband crumble? Am I not meant to be a mother? It all makes me angry!

It sounds strange: but part of my way of coping with the anger the past few days has been to scour blogs that I read, and blogs that I may not have read before: blogs like mine. When I say like mine, I mean not pregnant. I needed to justify in my mind that I am not the only one out there who isn't. The list of "The Other Side of IF" on my blogroll made me dizzy. It just proves how this is such an emotional mind game. I wouldn't want to wish this infertility struggle on anyone, but to know that I am not the only one...honestly, it makes me feel good. And that makes me angry that these two emotions are related in this way-it shouldn't have to be like that. But I have felt the need to rely on the strength in numbers-can you relate?

It has been so hard to read any "good" news...and I hate that. It makes me feel so exposed-like everyone who is reading that blog is looking at me thinking "what are you doing here, you don't belong." My comments have been sparse because I feel like I'm faking it. And that makes me angry.

So the hulk in me has been an unwanted presence. I don't like it-and I'm working towards prying its grip off of me. But in a way, I'm not ready to let go of it just yet. In a way, it's fueling me to keep going: to keep my goal in sight.

I got to talk about the goal today during my follow up. Oh what joy it would bring if you could go in to a follow up and have solid answers. I remember being naive and thinking that last time I had a follow up that it would somehow give me THE answers. Not so. And it was the same this time....just "We are so sorry..." and "Let's talk about what could happen..." I didn't really get any answers that I couldn't have figured for myself. I do appreciate my RE though--he spent a long time talking with me and going over all my questions.

Bottom line: he thinks we are good candidates for another round of IVF. He does think we need to incorporate PGD. He agreed to take a full blood panel on me today (7 vials-ouch!) to rule out clotting/natural killer cells, etc. Mook and I need as much info as possible to go forward with any decision, so to have at least one more piece of the puzzle figured out brings us peace of mind.

I don't have any other answers right now. I don't know what our next steps will be--I know that we both need some mental clarity. I look back on this time last year when we had just found out about the road ahead--my spirit was still so hopeful and bright. Today if feels angry and heavy. I want my spirit back...

We continue to be so incredibly grateful for the support we receive here...to read each and every comment makes us feel like we were getting a giant hug. Thank you so much! I'm anxious to feel more like myself again...so bear with me as I get back up to speed. You can't get rid of me that easy... ;0)

Preparing for rain...

Last night was pretty powerful in our house. My lovely sister recommended (or rather demanded) that Mook and I put "Fac.ing the Giants" at the top of our Net.flix qeue. So I obeyed....and by the first 3 minutes of the movie, I was glad I did.

Go out and rent it. Buy it. Buy 10 copies and give it to your friends. This movie was made on a shoe-string budget in Georgia...a church music minister co-wrote and co-directed it and had support of his entire congregation-they brought in very few "professionals" and almost the whole cast and crew volunteered their time to make this movie. It centers around a struggling football team, the coach and his wife's own struggles (think negative pregnancy tests) and the turn around in attitude and faith. No matter if you believe in God, Buddha, or the mailman--please watch this movie. My subject line "preparing for rain" is a strong message throughout the movie--underlying is the fable about two farmers who prayed for rain--one who did not prepare his fields to receive the rain; the other who did. Guess who received the rain? One line that just made me weep was: "How can I miss someone so much, who I haven't even met...."

I know deep in my heart and soul that Mook and I want a family very much. I know that God knows we want a family very much--and He also knows when that will happen for us. I know I waste time fearing that I won't ever get pregnant--I fear that for some reason we don't deserve it--I fear that I will disappoint Mook and my family--I fear that I won't even be a good mom--so many fears that I can give up.
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10

End of sermon=) I hope you find your faith today, whatever that may be...and hold on tight!