The Queen Me

Well.... I did it! I turned 40. It happened. And I daresay, I did it in style. Granted, it was my own unique, somewhat juvenile, style... but that still counts! There was no sad attempt to stop it, and no hiding.

When I started this blog, I was absolutely mortified by this upcoming milestone - at least in relation to my infertility. I'd like to tell you I totally got past that, but that would not be a truth. But alas, short of that final journey homeward, nothing stops the passage of time for any of us... no matter how much we may dread it, or even rejoice in it. The passage of time cares not. It cares not for our worries, our insecurities, our denial, or even our happiness or love.... certainly it cares nothing for our talents, or lack thereof, in the procreation department. It knows no stopping, no slowing.... and I regret to inform you that a watched pot does indeed boil.

And that's all ok by me, I guess... I mean, what good would it do me to resist it, anyhow? It's kinda one of those things, you know. So what then? I guess just this: make the best of what we have! Make the best of what we're given! Do our best where we are! Be good stewards!

My tune may change next week - or even tomorrow, mind you. Mayhaps I'm just basking in the glow of almost two weeks of par-taying! Of being treated like a Queen. I haven't settled into real life in my forties yet. It's quite possible that the Queen Me simply hasn't had time to really think or process any of it, now that I'm here.

But today a baby was in our office - one of the MANY, many pregnancies in my little dept of 32 people. I ignored the baby. I always do... I mean, if it were one of my closer friends I wouldn't, but why torture myself with the baby of someone who's kind of rude to me? Why put up the pretense? Carry on, carry on. I didn't cry. That's something, right?

Oh, did I mention that on day three of being 40, which was Monday July 11th, I came into the office to find my computer more or less blown to bits.... at least internally. There had been some really bad storms and they fried it... who knew my company didn't use protection against that sort of thing? Anyhow, so I had to find a new desk to use for the day. I went from desk to desk of the people out just a day because I so did not want to sit at the desk of any of the several gals out on maternity leave. That's mature, eh? Anyhow, because I have some special programs that I need, most computers didn't have those programs... you know it --- I ended up at one of maternity girls' desks. Bummer! Not only that, but she had all these congrats cards and gifts and signs up.

Yup - nothin' like being infertile at 40 years and 3 days - and having to sit in the cube of a coworker on maternity leave all day - surrounded by congrats paraphernalia. Sigh. Can't get any better than that. At least until you get your period later that same day. Good ole AF and her awesome sense of humor! Yup! This is a sadly true story.

My love of irony at least appreciated the scenario on some level.

Sigh.

Anyhow, I guess this is all just the way it goes... it's life. I have to deal with it. I have to keep laughing. And yes, crying if that's where I'm at... in either case, I gotta just keep moving forward. I feel better for having embraced it and laughed a bit.

I'll still avoid the non-friend coworker's babies though.

Anyhow, on to the really fun stuff! My birthday!! It was truly wonderful!

On Friday, July 8 - the day before my birthday - Ar and I hung out. He made me some cute treats and then we played some games outside - ladder ball and frisbee. Just fun! Then my dearest friend L came that night. She lives four + hours away. We went to Pizza Hut, because it's somewhat of a tradition... stemming back from the mid '80s. Then she and I made an ice cream cake for my birthday cake. Ar looked on, being as cute and adorable and sweet as ever!

The next morning - my 40th birthday - Ar woke me up at 6:30 am.... I'm seriously NOT a morning person, but he was standing next to our bed with a tray of chocolate covered strawberries and two glasses of champagne! (To which I said, "where's YOUR champagne, dear?" ) It was so amazing! Just so sweet and romantic! He dipped the strawberries himself!!! I LOVED it!!!! He wanted to do a little something just him and me, before the day started... and since we'd be w/ L and others the rest of the day.... I loved it!!!

After that - a day of fun! Ar, L, and I went to get pedicures! Yes, I made my hubby get a pedicure! L and I get them every chance we get - and we manage to get them together maybe once a year... but how fun to have Ar get one with us!! He was seriously just too cute for words! He's such a good sport!!! However, he wants everyone to know that while he did enjoy the experience, he did NOT get any polish on his toes!!!! I did, of course... my toes are sparkly blue! Love it!

Next we went to a light lunch and then a small kiddy-land amusement park. Brave of me, right? Well, I absolutely adore the Tilt-a-Whirl, so it was worth the risk of seeing so many happy little families. Seriously, Tilt-a-Whirl is like the greatest fun - ever!!! So that was one of the main birthday things I wanted to do! L rode it with me as it makes Ar a little sick, so he was happy that L would go with me this time! (He's definitely put in his dues in the Tilt-a-Whirl department, after all.) It was such fun! Just pure glee!!!!

Next, L and I went to the beach... Ar went home to get a few things ready for the evening's festivities. The beach was super nice - a little sand, a little swimming! Mind you, this is just a small community beach, but it's a nice one. It's no Caribbean Sea off Honduras, but it is nice!

Next came the par-tay... About 15 of us gathered at one of my favorite restaurants - it was a nice evening, so we sat on the patio... it was quite lovely! Ar had gone early to decorate, and arrange a few things. All my most favorite friends from this area were there! Even my very, very, verrrrry pregnant friend made it! She had been uncertain because she was due any minute, but she and her hubby are some of those friends I mentioned in my earlier post, who have been friends since the early/mid 80s... so, long-time and very dear friends!!! She was the person at the par-tay that I've actually known the longest. My most recent friends at that party were friends I met in 2001. It's such a blessing to have the friends I have!!! Anyhow, I loved every minute!! '

Oh, and at dinner, Ar was showing everyone the photo book of our special Honduras trip. He loves that book so much!! That makes me very happy! I think everyone else really enjoyed seeing and hearing more about it. It's not too long , so it's not annoying to anyone. Then after dinner was bowling!! I'm a truly terrible bowler, but it is good fun!!

Yes, it was quite the fun-filled, somewhat juvenile day....

Next day we went to church and then hung out a bit, before L had to go.

Then the following week was full of birthday lunches. Then Thursday night, a good work friend threw a par-tay for me with work friends, at her house. That was really, really fun too!

Then on the weekend, it was on to Milwaukee for more.... I'm originally from Milwaukee - which is about 6 hours away from where I live now. So this past Saturday was par-taying with my family, and then another very lovely par-tay with some more of my oldest and dearest friends.

To sum up, I was treated like a Queen for the past almost two weeks. Don't worry, I won't let it go to my head.

Especially since, sadly, the Queen cannot seem to produce an heir to the throne.

But she still knows how to have a good time... and certainly knows how to surround herself with good people. And she knows she is greatly blessed.

So.... just keep on keepin' on, right! I've made it this far, after all. I've learned a few things along the way, I've kept good company - and I do have faith. So, as always, some days will be better, prouder days than others... but I'll own them all, for they are the days that were given to me. And I'll pray that I may be the exception... that my miracle could still happen. I know the odds are against me, but heck if I'm ready to stop hoping now. We'll see about tomorrow, tomorrow....

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)

Gifts galore and more

Hey, this girl actually looks quite a bit like me... kinda strange to find your doppelganger in clip art!! She has a better fashion sense than I do, though...

Well, the long awaited birthday is quite nearly upon us. I've taken the day off work, because I thought I should enjoy the last day of my thirties by not working!!! Although work was kind of fun yesterday... birthday weeks for me sometimes get a bit slacky. Lots of birthday lunches and cards and fun. One of the people I supervise brought me a chocolate croissant, which is one of my very favorite things, so that was a wonderful surprise. Then my friend K took me out for a lunch, which ended up going 2.5 hours!!!! YIKES!!!! That's a long work lunch, but that's ok for once in a while, right? :-O Anyhow, I love talking with my friend K. She's one of those people I don't get to lunch with often enough, but when we do, we just can't stop talking. We talk about such serious things sometimes, but just are cracking up laughing most of the time, anyhow! Then last night some other co-workers treated me to dinner, and that was really nice. I got a bunch of cards - all of which referenced the good ole, "forty is the new thirty..." or "forty is the new twenty..." By my calculations, that means that forty is the new fifty, right? Yikes!!! Hmm, then again, I never was great at math.

Also, tonight my dearest friend, L, is coming over for the weekend. She lives about four plus hours away, so we don't get to see each other enough! I'm really happy she's coming!! So she'll be here to help us ring in my 40th, which, dumb as it sounds, I just realized will be actually my fifth decade of life!!! Seriously, I only just realized that... I was commenting to someone recently about being about to enter my fourth decade... I mean, I'm going to be forty, right? That's four decades! But as I was speaking, I started to scratch my head a bit, and do a little math... "ok, 10 plus thirty, carry the one.... OH, I've actually already lived four full decades, haven't I? Hmmm. That means I'm entering decade five.... YIKES-a-ROONI!!!!" Yeah, well, I told you I never was very good at math... Good thing they have me in charge of a $5 million budget at work, huh? Ha!

Oh well, so it turns out I've already survived four decades of life. Good job, me!! For such a monumental occasion, I'd like to write about the four best gifts given to me, thus far.


1) My family - this might not be the traditional tribute to one's family, as my family was hardly traditional. We were as dysfunctional as they come!!! Alcoholism reigned over our family; it caused so much grief, and major communication problems that we still struggle with today - to a lesser extent, though. It took Dad away, way too soon, and we miss him. He was a good man, with a lot of demons to fight. But you know, this home, this family - they were a major force for better and worse, during my first two decades. Much of who I am was shaped there. For much of my first two and a half decades, I blamed them for a lot. I had anger about a lot of things. (Believe it or not, back then, I thought I NEVER wanted to have kids because what if I were like my parents? I would rather not have had children, if I couldn't be a good mom... gee, I kinda miss those days of not wanting kids!! Oh well!) But here's the thing... I was loved. I was always loved - and I never doubted that! Yes, there are some trust issues that I have to deal with, and honestly, some of my deep anxieties do clearly stem from that time - and the feelings of fear and lack of security and stability in our home. It was a very, very stormy time! But I see these things clearly, as an adult - I was loved. I was cared for. And I was taught about Jesus and about faith. And about hard work and commitment - even when the going is very rough. I also love my hair color - that comes from dad! So, what can I say, no one is perfect. Things were quite stormy. But I know that my parents did the very best they could with what they were given. They gave all three of us a better life than what they had. We are all happy, relatively successful people in good relationships. So, in the final analysis - my parents did ok. Life is hard and messy and they did the best they could. What more can I really ask for? I'm thankful for them.

2) My time at camp. It is a Christian camp in rural Wisconsin. Much of my second and third decade were spent there. Starting in Jr. High, I started working there weekends and summers. I did that through High School and part of college. Then in between my sophomore and junior years in college, I was held up at gunpoint in Milwaukee. Everything worked out ok, but it made me realize even more, that life is short - try to make the most of it. I was miserable in college and all I wanted was to be back at camp. So I talked camp into creating a full-time position for me. I worked there full-time for five years, as the food service director (i.e., chief cook and bottle washer). It was amazing!!! All my years there were amazing! At some point though, I realized, it was time to move on. I went back to finish a college degree. It was the right decision, but I miss camp every day. I have the best friendships from there. My friend L, who is coming tonight is from there. We met in 1986 and have been together ever since. Camp is the most special place in the world. During so much of the storms that raged in my home, I had camp. The Lord provided, through camp, the safety and security that I so sorely lacked at home. There was the Christian growth I needed. The people who walked the talk.... The encouragement. There was the feeling of accomplishment for my work there as the cook. There were the connections with so many people. The laughs - oh, the laughs!!! The stupidest things, we laughed about. The "Target Runs," which was the big special occasion of "going out." We'd all get dressed up and do our hair and makeup just to go into town and go to the Target store and then maybe for some ice cream. We'd ride there on this big blue bus, singing and being crazy. There was the most special camaraderie on earth!! Silly and wonderful! There was the mission: To know Christ and to make him known. There was the constant discovery of all the many and varied uses for duct tape.... I could write volumes about camp and how special it is. Maybe some day I will, but for now, suffice it to say that it was the best time. There isn't a day that passes now that I don't wish I could bend space and time to combine the best of then with the best of now. I'm thankful for what I had there, and what I carry with me from there.

3) My friends. I am just so grateful for the friends that God has blessed me with. Again, what I may have lacked in stability at home, was given to me in friendships. Those rare and beautiful - true - friendships. I have plenty of more surface friendships as well, and they have their place and they are enjoyable. But it's those rare ones I'm thinking of now. Those friends who have seen you through so very many chapters of your life.... who know you. Who know how stupid and silly you can be, how scared, how ornery and unreasonable - and love you all the same. Some of my very closest friends have been my friends since the early and mid 1980s (since the days of really big hair and blue eye-shadow) and others since the mid and late 90s. These are the people who saw me through those family troubles, through dad dying.... I'll never forget that L found out about my dad's death before I did (because I was out shopping - this was well before cell phones being the norm) - and found a way to scrape together change from her dorm mates in college, to take the bus to my college an hour away... she was there right after I found out. She stayed with me until my brother came and picked me up. These friends have been there for me in so many countless ways over the years.... spanning three of my four decades and counting. I'm thankful for these dear people, who for some strange reason really, really like me - even still.

4) Last, but not least, my Ar. He represents my fourth decade of life, and counting. My thirties were the decade of Ar. And overall, it's been a wonderful decade. He is everything I said above about my friends, but even more so. No one has seen me as vulnerable as he has. No one on earth loves me more fiercely and passionately than he does. I can hardly believe it, most of the time. Particularly in light of the infertility issues, he has seen me at my very worst - my panic attacks, my grief... and he loves me through it all. There is no doubt in my mind that he loves me and will be with me, for as long as he has a say in the matter. By the time I had met him, at 29, I had started to think I might not ever get married. And after much soul-searching and prayer and study, I'd come to feel that that was ok. I didn't need to be married, I'd be ok. But then came Ar. He wasn't at all who I would have expected, had I expected anyone. We have the funniest differences and the weirdest similarities. Somehow we balance each other out just right. On paper none of it would have seemed right. No dating site would have matched us up, that's for sure... yet we are just right for each other. He is indeed the butter to my bread. I adore him. I'm so incredibly thankful for him. (And I so want to have his kids all the more because of all this. If I don't, at least we'll still always be us. And that is pretty incredible, in its own right!)

So there you have it, what I consider my four greatest, of many other, gifts on this earth. Though I did not specify, in this setting, such overarching gifts as God's love and salvation, and the strength that he gives me to face each and every tomorrow, please know that I consider these the mother of all gifts!! There is not a single gift above that I don't, with heartfelt praise, thank my Heavenly Father for, because:

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. (James 1:17)

Tacos and other endings

I just realized I haven't written anything yet in June. There's no particular reason for that... I've been thinking about it, I guess I've just been extra busy and haven't had as much time to mull things over. Though it's been said that the unexamined life isn't worth living, it sure can be a blessing to step back from too much examination, sometimes.

Ar has been home a lot lately - even on the weekends! This means I've had several very nice weekends in a row!!! I love when he's home! It's so much more fun!!! He'll soon start being busy with work again on the weekends, so I have to really take advantage when I can!

Still, here I am again... and despite the really nice last few weeks, I am having a bit of a meltdown today.

See, today is the first day of the last AF of my 30s. Weird!!!! I hadn't thought of it that way until today. I knew AF would probably show up today or tomorrow, and I wasn't terribly surprised when it showed up at work today. I tried to tell myself that... tried to say that I was expecting it... just take it in stride... tried to not let it get to me. I have plenty of experience dealing with it after all, right? But as I was walking from the bathroom back to my cubey, I realized that this is the last AF of my 30s.

Until today, there was some small.... miniscule... infinitesimally unlikely chance that I could still conceive a child in my 30s.... but now there is absolutely no chance of it. No last minute miracle. No hail mary pass into the endzone... nothing.

Sure, it could happen in my 40s... I'm not done yet. Not completely. Apparently there's still a 5% chance of conceiving in any given cycle. I'm assuming that refers to women who do not have PCOS, though...

"Fertility peaks in most women in the 20s, and gradually begins to decline in the late 20s. At around age 35, fertility starts to decline at a much more rapid pace. For example, in any given month, your chances of getting pregnant at age 30 are about 20%. At age 40, your chance of getting pregnant in any given month is just 5%."

The good news is that I've lost a few more pounds, but I'm still so far from where I think I should try IUI again...

I just feel like a freight train has hit me. I felt so happy the last few weeks... Ar was home. We were having fun. I've been planning my big 4-O bash... But now I just feel like I've been clobbered.

And there is just so much excessive fertility around me... so many newborns... so much happiness.

I did send a very nice note to my friend who just had her 2nd baby - I did this just today. After staring at her newborn pics on Facebook for about 20 minutes... taking every ounce of energy to keep holding back tears because I was at work and I have to have my happy face on there. I can't ever let them see me flinch, or so my boss has told me.

But Ar mercifully took me to lunch - tacos... my favorite. I appreciate him so much. But I just can't stop melting down....

And get this - I had an appointment with my therapist tonight, but I canceled. I just don't even want to go through the motions. I just wanted to be home. Besides, what can she say? What can she do? What's going to make a difference? What will make me feel better? Nothing. The only thing right now is that Ar took me for tacos today. I know he loves me no matter what. That's the only thing that even remotely is breaking through right now. I just feel so broken. Completely broken.

I guess that's all I have to say about any of that. Next time AF shows up, I'll already be 40. I'm sure my 40s will bring plenty more AFs... until they stop. And then.... ??? In the meantime, I just can't stop crying.

I'm not going to proof this or edit it, so forgive me if there are any typos or major flaws. I am just so tired. And everything hurts. And usually by now in my blog writing, some verse or song is popping into my head, but I am just empty right now. Nothing is coming but more tears. And so with that, I'll sign off for now.

4-Oh my

I've been debating amongst myself about whether or not I should celebrate my big 4-O, which is just a couple months away. I've always loved birthdays, but this is a tough one. I never thought it would be tough, I mean, having an issue with turning 40 is so... so... trite. After all, isn't 40 the new black and all that? Yet here I am... almost 40 and the sound of pitter-pattering little feet is nowhere to be found - and I am freaked out!!

I read this past week that the chances of conceiving naturally after 40 go down to five percent. Five percent. 5%!!!! I don't pretend to be a great mathematician, but that doesn't sound real promising.... After all, I didn't conceive naturally when I was 35, nor with the use of acupuncture, herbs, Clomid, or IUIs, since then. In a few short months, my chances apparently will fall even lower. Gee, I wonder why I have a problem with turning 40.

Also, my mom lost my dad - her husband of 22 years - when she was only 40. I knew then that 40 was very young, but now here I am. And though I'm not superstitious and though I know it's silly and irrational, that really freaks me out. I don't know exactly why. It makes no sense. But it's there, another black cloud lingering over my head.

My mom already had three kids - out of the house - by the time she turned 40. I, the youngest, was a freshman in college when dad died. It astounds me to think now that she was my age when she lost her husband. They were married 22 years, and later this year will mark 22 years since he's been gone. Unbelievable!

Oh, how I want a little Ar pitter-pattering about!! Oh, how I wish I could have known him and married him when I was younger, but it doesn't work that way. I found my prince in my 30s... and that's just the way it is.

I just so want to share that gift, which seems just beyond my reach, with him. It's all such a miracle, and I want us to be part of it. I don't know, I just want it so much that it breaks my heart to see it slipping further and further away. I want my dad and mom to live on, too. I do have a niece and a nephew, but I want to be part of that. Is that selfish? Is it selfish to want to want to see the face of my darling Ar in the child that we create together? Maybe it is - honestly, I'm not sure. But it doesn't go away. When I think of how much I love Ar and how happy I am that we found each other, all I know is that I want to have a child with him. I'll take it all... the good, the bad, and the ugly. Or am I just not equipped properly to be a good mom? That's not true, is it?

Shake it off, girl - it's not true. That's not why.... Right?

Infertility is ridiculously cruel!!

In the meantime, 40.... and all I can hear is the slow, ominous creaking of a door closing. If I'm not equipped now, when will I be?

In other news, I came to tears at the Walgreens a few days ago, upon seeing this adorable little guy in a giraffe rain coat and zebra galoshes. He was the cutest little thing!! There was just something about him that just killed me. I just stared at this little guy. Then I had to hightail it out of there, before I burst into weepy tears right there. Besides, I think the kid's mom was starting to worry I was going to steal him. I assure you, dear reader, I had no intention of stealing him. But he sure was cute! A giraffe rain coat - oh my word... with zebra galoshes! Can it get any cuter?

Oh, how I want a little Ar pitter-pattering about, wearing mismatched mammalian rain gear!!!

Infertile and nearly forty. Who would have thunk it?

Nope, I never thought I'd mind about turning 40, but now I find myself wanting to hide under the covers with a nice bottle of Cab, instead of celebrating the life I've lived thus far... with all the goodness that really is in it. But I won't.

I have made a decision to embrace it as best as possible. After all, hiding won't change anything. I'll still be 40. I'll still be infertile (most likely, anyhow... that pesky hope still hovers around.) And I'll still have only a five percent chance of conceiving.

I'll also still have an amazing hubby, who I just adore. A hubby, who, amazingly, seems to adore me... infertile, fat, forty - me. I'll also still have a wonderful group of friends and a wacky, dysfunctional, but loving in their own way, family. I'll still have a sense of humor. I'll still be somewhat quirky. I'll still love to bake bread and other delicious treats. I'll still care very much about people. I'll still think Juke Box Hero is the greatest song, like --- ever!!! I'll still believe. I'll still have my Lord, who loves me more than I can even fathom.

Also, I'll still have (a little) time to pursue further treatment. I'd have to lose more of this anxiety weight first, though - and be in a better frame of mind. It was the right decision to take a break when we did. I realize now that anxiety really has plagued me longer than I thought. It didn't start with the panic attacks, they were merely an extremely unpleasant escalation of the problem. The panic attacks are what prompted me to get help, but the anxiety was there already, big time - probably since I was a tike, myself. Ah, but that's a story for another day.

At any rate, if I can lose weight and if we choose to try the next treatment steps, I believe I'll be in a bit better frame of mind for it. I don't know if that matters or not for my chances of success, but it matters for my overall well-being. But first things first. I have a 40th birthday to start planning.

Psalm 31: 14-16: But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, “You are my God.” My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my persecutors! Make your face shine on your servant; save me in your steadfast love!

The bravest person I know

"It is very hard to be brave," said Piglet, sniffing slightly, "when you're only a Very Small Animal."

I tried another therapist to help me with my new found anxiety and frequent panic attacks. This was not an easy thing to do, especially after my first ill-fated attempt at therapy. Thankfully, my new person is very good, I think. I definitely felt very comfortable with her - and strangely enough, I know almost nothing about her, including the fact that I have no idea how many children she "gave birth to." She really listened. Seems a good quality in a therapist, but my first one was rather deficient in that area.

After going through everything and her asking me a lot of questions, she really believes she can help me and that there are some various techniques I can try. But she strongly believes I should take medication, as well, to help with these anxiety issues. My primary medical doctor wants me to take them, too - I already have the prescriptions from her. But I just don't want to.

Shouldn't I be able to get through this on my own? Shouldn't my faith be such that I don't need medication to help me through? Does this make me a bad Christian? Am I not casting all my anxiety on Him? Or does this mean I'm giving up? Does this mean I can't hack it in this crazy, beautiful, terrifying world?

I have never - ever - felt ANY of those things about any of my friends who needed this kind of help - Christian or otherwise. So why should I feel differently about it for myself?

I told her - and she thought this was "beautiful," (her words) - that I always joke that I'm the bravest person I know because I've always been afraid of so many things, but I always do them anyhow. I've never let (unreasonable) fear stop me from doing something, such as flying. Lately, with these panic attacks happening so often, I've been sorely tempted to let it all stop me... I haven't yet, but it really scares me how close I am to doing just that. How many more panic attacks can I handle before I just give up and stay home?

But I still do not want to take them.

I take other medications, for my PCOS. I took Clomid, I did IUI... I may eventually do IVF. I take prenatal vitamins. I drank raw herbs (aka sludge) from the acupuncture doctor, for Pete's sake... My work is all about the miracles of modern medicine, even... So why is this different to me?

She says it's not an issue of faith. It's not a personal failing. It's a brain chemistry issue. Thing is, I believe that. I do. I just wish it felt like it was a brain chemistry issue. To me, it does feel like just another failing. I can't get pregnant, I can't keep from gaining weight, and now I can't even handle life without flying into nutty panic attacks?? What next? I can't cook dinner anymore? I can't tie my shoes? (Wait, I always wear slip on shoes... sigh.)

So, she talked about how hormones influence brain chemistry, and how all the issues I've had over the last years, between infertility and PCOS - both of which are obviously very hormonal – plus, the major stress (cortisol hormone) of some very difficult financial issues we faced over the previous few years, have likely affected my brain's ability to make serotonin. While I would love to fix myself with faith, bravery, and trying to change my behavior, she says that the problem is that my brain chemistry is likely just off balance... I could take the meds to get that back in balance, and then it should help my brain produce its own serotonin again. In the meantime, we'll work on better coping strategies. She thinks I should only need the meds for maybe 6 months to a year. Not forever. I suppose, theoretically, this all means I can maybe be more back to normal, whatever that means for me...

Anyhow, it does makes sense. I get it. I just don’t like it. She said that for me (the bravest person I know), the brave thing to do now is take the medicine - get the help I need, even though it scares me and I don't want to do it. I think she's playing me now... using my own words against me. That's only a fair maneuver when I do it! But I do think she's probably right.

Ar and I talked it through last night, over some delicious Mexican dinner. Soooo. I guess I'll just start taking the meds tonight. I hope they help. I hope they don't make me crazier. I hope that I don't need them forever. I hope this doesn't make me more of a failure...

I hope, I do hope. Infertility, anxiety, and panic have not taken those away. They also haven't made Ar look at me any differently, he loves me all the same. I am certain that they also do not make God love me any less. For these I am so thankful.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
(2 Corinthians 12:9)

The number five

When peace like a river attendeth my way....

Five. Not only is five another ef word, five is the number of pregnancy announcements in my department of 30, since the beginning of this year. The most recent announcement came just last week. Five. That makes for a 17% pregnancy rate in my department. These are all first time pregnancies and they are all 10 years or more younger than I am. There is no where, during the very long work week, that I can go to not see them. And when I see them, all I can think of is what I just can't do - the joy that Ar and I seemingly will never share. The life I can't know. Yet I have to somehow manage to get out of bed each morning, breath, do my job, supervise my staff, and generally function in the world. I have to do these things well -- without letting on that I feel like the walking dead. This seems such an impossible task; it's taking all my energy. All around me is the talk. The incessant pregnancy talk, the planning, the excitement, and the (five) showers. The painfully insensitive comments. The sadness, the desolation, the secrecy and shame, the insane desire to run and hide, to escape, to pop all their balloons, and to smash all their baby shower cupcakes! (Confession: I decline to attend the showers, but.... well, I'd hate the leftover cupcakes to go to waste... that would just be wrong.)

Coincidentally, five is exactly the number of years we've been actively trying to conceive. It was five years ago this month, in fact. I didn't think it would just happen, but I didn't think this...

And five. It was just a few minutes after five o'clock today that I knew my period started. Again.

Boy, could I ever go for a cupcake right now! Or maybe five....

In related news, five multiplied by seven is the number of pounds I've gained in the last eight months.... when the panic attacks and anxiety issues suddenly started. Great, between the extra weight and incredible stress, now I've decreased my fertility even further. Nice work.

When sorrows like sea billows roll...

What does this all add up to? Heck if I know. But I'm sitting here at midnight, next to the most beautiful roses that Ar surprised me with the other day, while I listen to him snoring peacefully away in the next room, and I'm writing this sad story because at the bottom of all the goodness present in my life, I am just sad. I am anxious and sad - and I don't know how to be better. I don't know how to be me, anymore. What if I can't ever be me again?

I'm trying to get better. I've seen my doctor about the panic attacks. I'm going to acupuncture to help me relax, and I even saw a therapist. That was not an easy step to take. And boy, she was a real peach:

She: "So, I suppose it will make you jealous to learn that I gave birth to six children."

Me: "Uhhhh?"

She: "You shouldn't compare yourself to others, though - maybe God has something else in store for you. Not everyone has kids."

Me: "Uhhhhhhhhhh....!?"

Yeah, Dr. Bob Hartley she was not. But I truly enjoyed the "gave birth to" part. Heaven forbid I should think for a moment that she had adopted any of her six children... She went on to fill me in on what they do. I also know all about her mother, her own anxiety issues, her research, and her thoughts on computer games. Also, she was very helpful in letting me know that one person in her family (but not blood related) struggled with infertility... for a whole six or seven months. Whoo - that must have been tough. Six months, eh. Needless to say, I won't be back.

And then, I stopped and picked up french fries on the way home.

Really? French fries? I've never been that girl. Really! I've only been that girl in the last eight months. I mean, I've always had some weight issues, but reasonably controllable - not like this. I'm a happy, celebratory eater, normally. And I don't eat that - I love good, fresh, delicious, real food. And I've never been a stress eater, but I picked up french fries. I don't know why. I do know that I felt even worse about myself when I left the "therapist," than when I went in. And I do know that it was very, very hard for me to go there - but I did it - yet somehow I managed to find a therapist nuttier than I am. Do I do anything right? So, yeah - getting french fries suddenly seems to be what I do now. And it has to stop. I don't want to be that girl.

I have made an appointment with another therapist for next week, hopefully that will go better. Hard to imagine it being any worse.

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say... are hopefully teaching me to say....

Did I mention that when I woke up this morning, since my period was a couple days late, I was going to stop and pick up a pregnancy test? At least I didn't have a chance to do that before five o'clock...

Yep, I was going to pick up a pregnancy test. Kinda funny, huh? Not so much in a ha ha sort of way, though. Instead, I picked up some french fries.

So I don't know what all of this adds up to. All I know is that it's a mystery to me how constant and unrelenting despair continues to live alongside constant and unreasonable hope. Part of me wants the hope to go far, far away - as far as the east is from the west. Yet what is life without hope, even though the hope -unrealized- is so incredibly painful? At some point, I will either be a mom, or it will be too late. That thought hovers over my head like one of those dark clouds in cartoons. And so I know I must constantly choose the higher Hope. It is not that I must give up this particular hope sooner than necessary, but my truest hope must be higher still than that. I must remember to cling to the Hope of Hopes, which gives me life, and which will not abandon me - even in these dark days.
(Please, Lord, teach me to say) It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Romans 5:1-5: Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.

X always equals infertility

I bet we've been together for a million years.
And I bet we'll be together for a million more.

Oh, it's like I started breathing on the night we kissed,
And I can't remember what I ever did before....

For some strange reason, I often recall a very random line from Family Ties - you know, Alex P. Keaton, Mallory, and gang... Well, Alex's visiting uncle tells him to not worry about his Algebra test; he advises him to just remember that, "x always equals 8."

Lately I've had a strange understanding that for me, x always equals infertility.

It's just always there. Most people don't get that about me. I don't think anyone does. How could they, unless they've walked this path? I can seem fine. I can seem happy. I can seem myself. Maybe I am all of those things. Even so, x is always lurking just barely below the surface. Just waiting.

It's not fair - and I don't mean to me. It's not fair to... well, my hubby, Ar.

See, Ar is a pretty single-focused guy. Not much for the multi-tasking... He is constantly amazed at how many windows I can have open on my computer - and just seamlessly jet back and forth between them, managing a dozen ideas and tasks at once. I think that's where he notices my amazing talent the most. But I'm one heck of a multi-tasker, in general. I used to cook and bake for a living - and talk about multi-tasking... It's second nature.

It's a blessing - and a curse.

If I may offer such a broad generalization, none of this is probably mind-blowing stuff for most women. My point is that pesky x is always there... no matter how happy I seem, how many fascinating things we're discussing, what I'm doing, or where I'm going. X is there. I'm more familiar with x, than I am my own shadow.

My Ar forgets how prevalent x is for me. He doesn't mean to; it's not that he doesn't care, because he very much does. It's just that he's not like me. If he's happy, he's just happy. If he's having a stimulating conversation, he only knows that conversation, if he's driving - oddly enough - he's just focused on the road. Such strange and foreign concepts to me.

I don't want to brag, but I can cover eleven distinct emotions in the span of three minutes - all while making a chocolate truffle cheesecake, coconut stewed chicken, balancing the checkbook, playing Scrabble, and checking my work e-mail.

And just because I seem happy this second doesn't mean that he isn't going to say something seemingly very innocuous that in a fraction of a second reminds me of something that reminds me of something that reminds me of something that makes me instantaneously feel every single ounce of my raging infertility.

It's a game-changer.

And it's not fair, especially not to Ar.

One minute he's with the sweet (ha!), loving (definitely), fun (frequently), weird (always), interesting (occasionally), beautiful (he thinks so) woman that he fell in love with and married; the next minute, I've gone completely stark raving infertile on him. And it's just not fair to him, but x often catches me by surprise, too.

Should he have to run every single word he says through some magical infertil-filter to check if somehow it will make me think of something that makes me think of something that makes me think of something that reminds me how incredibly infertile I am?

Even if one argued that he should have to - since such a magical device as an infertil-filter doesn't exist (note to self: invent infertil-filter) - would he even be capable of such telepathic analysis? Would anyone?

...what would we do baby, without Us?

Thank God, I don't have to find out what we'd do, baby, without Us... Ar loves me anyhow. And I'm grateful. Would that I were worthy.

Sha la la la...

Song of Solomon 8:6-7: Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away. If one were to give all the wealth of one’s house for love, it would be utterly scorned.

The letter ef and why I'm here

Efs, efs, everywhere there's efs, blocking up the scenery, breaking my mind. Do this, don't do that, can't you read the efs?  

It seems like everywhere I turn there's a ef.  The main ef I'm dealing with is a big one: Fertility - or, more to the point, the lack thereof.  Plus, I'll be Forty soon.  And I don't mean in a cute Meg Ryan "When Harry Met Sally" kind of way:

"And I'm gonna be FORTY!"  

"When?" 

"Someday!"  

Yeah, I used to think that was cute.  Now that someday is only a few months away, it's not quite so cute, anymore...  Now it just feels like a door closing.

I never thought I'd mind turning Forty.  I was never like that.  And everyone keeps saying, "oh, I loved my Forties!" and "oh, the Forties have been my best years yet!" and of course there's the old, "Forty is the new black."  But then, it's only people who have already managed to become parental units that say that.  And they just can't understand.  I don't blame them.  But where does it leave me?  Floundering, Fearful... Frantic.

I'm very nearly Forty.   And I'm inFertile.  We've been "trying," as they say, for Five years.  Futility.  And I'm aFraid.  I'm a woman of Faith, yet I am so aFraid.  

And I know how Fortunate I am! My hubby is truly a prince among men, and there's no doubt that he is with me For-all-our-days.  Many do not have what I have. 

I am so thankful and Full of love.  

And I am so sad and Full of anxiety. 

And I have nothing original or inspirational to say in a blog.  I've never particularly wanted to blog.  And yet here I am because I don't know where else to be.  I have many wonderful people in my life, yet probably none will be invited to read my blog.  I don't imagine anyone will ever read it.  I guess I just need to write it.

Psalm 23 1-2: The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters; he restores my soul.