Spring will

Today was a day, of that none can dispute. Setting aside more national tragedies, which I didn't hear about until later because we were offline most of the day, it was a fun day and a hard day. I got to hang out with Ar, so that is always wonderful. I do love my every other Monday off!!

On the bummer side, I knew that the monthly reminder of my constant reproductive failure was coming soon, thanks to the heralding pimple. I was really hoping it would wait a bit, so that I wouldn't have to deal with it in Honduras. After all, it was almost two weeks early last month. Well, anyhow, it showed up today, a couple days earlier than I'd have thought. So that makes today CD 1, which makes me likely to have to deal with it in Honduras.

I know that some people think it strange that it's so hard for me. After all, every woman has to deal with such matters, and no one likes it. What's the big deal, right? It used to only be an uncomfortable nuisance for me. Now it's that and a whole lot more. No matter how much I know I'm not pregnant, no matter how bitter and jaded I often sound (or try to be), I still always secretly hope and dream, I can't help it. Though I'm less surprised nowadays, and more trying to accept, I'm still accidentally waiting for that miracle.

Constant failure.

Still, overall, I'm handling it pretty well today - and hopefully I will in Honduras. Well, that is as long as you consider bursting into tears in a Walmart aisle handling it well...  believe it or not, I do still consider that to be well handled. I have low standards, you see. Besides, I didn't have to ditch the cart and run out of the store sobbing like a maniac. I was able to proceed with the rest of our shopping. Ar was with me, so that helped a lot. 

So...  do you want to see what had the power to bring me down in a Walmart aisle?

C'mon, I know you do!!

So without any further ado.....   Garanimals! 

Aren't they adorable?  

We were there shopping for Honduras supplies, including some little gifts for some of the folks out there. One of our primas (cousins) was particularly kind and helpful when we were there last, so I wanted to get a couple extra little gifts for her and her new(ish) little one. Shopping for little ones is always really hard for me - and most IFers. Shopping for little ones during CD 1 is really, really, really hard. Really! 

It's especially so when there are a couple adorable little ones in the aisle with us. Sigh, and I had to ask their mom for sizing advice, since I have no idea what size shoe a 16 month old wears. I wish I did. 

Soooooo many cute things. Little, tiny shoes...  Oh can anyone resist such cuteness?  

I wish I had a kid to buy cute little sandals for...

Cue the tears.

I know it's silly. I'm weak and silly. 

However, I accomplished the task without humiliating myself (mom and the little ones had moved on already). There have been times in the past I wasn't able to do so. So I'll add it to the win column. I take what I can get.

On the bright side, it helped me to just decide on these particular tiny shoes, which were just too cute, rather than pondering for very long, which I have a habit of doing. Plus, Ar was there to help me not totally break down. 

On the brighter side, I also got myself a pair of fun little flops. I got this same pair for our prima, as well as a pretty top and some blingy sandals. 

And we got a whole lot of other necessities, so I think we're pretty well prepared for Honduras. C'mon sandflies - I double dog dare you to come after my DEET covered ankles this time!

What I have not gotten yet is Mother's Day cards. I tried to yesterday, but I just couldn't hack it. I swooped by them again today, but after the Garanimals incident, I decided to not go down that aisle. Pathetic, I know.

But I haven't totally lost it, like I have in the past, over these things... so that's positive, isn't it? Maybe avoidance isn't always all bad. No matter what, I will call my mom, of course, I just may not be able to actually get her a card. But I will try again.

After all, I do believe in Spring. The little signs of it - a bird here, a bud there - add up to be enough, even if snow comes the next day, to believe that Spring really is still on its way.  It will spring, sooner or later.

Life wants

Forward: I am so feeling the need to move forward, to find adventure, to forget about my troubles...  hey, has anyone seen my ole kit bag? If I can find that, perhaps I could pack them up in there and smile, smile, smile.

Honduras will bring adventure of course, but I think I'm looking for a new life. Or probably just to start really living again. It won't be the first - or last - time I reference Shawshank here, but I know I need to get busy living, because I'm not interested in getting busy dying.
 
Don't get me wrong - I've been living. This whole nightmare, this has been living. After all, as Westley/The Man in Black says, "Life is pain, highness, anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something."  Yep, I've been living in a big way... had a big dream and I went for it. I haven't had the same resources or luxury of time as others, so I do have some regrets and unfinished feelings there, but we did what we could. I have been living. It's just not the way I want to keep living.

It's so hard to leave behind a dream, though. How does one stop dreaming that dream. How does one find new dreams?  Especially when no other dream seems as lovely.

Well, I guess it's like death... when you lose someone you love, you never stop missing them and you never stop remembering them. There are times you remember them more than others - or something just smacks you out of the blue - but most of us eventually find a way to keep going, despite that crucial and precious missing piece. Most of us eventually find a way to reconcile the grief with the rest of our life. The loss and the pain become a part of us, but no longer absorb us. We're still able to move forward.

Life wants to live fully.


The moving forward part has to happen on one's own time table, though. Oh, sure, there will always be people who want you to get over things when they think you should get over things. (This is not terribly helpful, in my opinion.)

Grief cannot be rushed.

Grief has certainly been a pervasive issue in my life, for a while now. I don't expect that it'll ever go away.

Infertility is, after all, the loss that keeps on losing.

As life goes on, I expect that the loss of infertility will grow and change. Not having kids now means I won't get grand-kids later, for example - with a million more examples of progressive loss in between.

I will learn to manage it - perhaps it will become more of a twinge of occasional melancholy - rather than this searing pain, but it will remain part of me. 

For now though, I'm rather sick of wanting something I can't have. I'm sick of limbo. I long for some change, though I don't know what it looks like. I need freshness. I need the winter of my heart to end.

Life wants to grow. 

Toward that effort, I thought I'd like to have someone objective to talk through some of this with, because as much as I want to move forward, I still feel stuck in the heartbreak. Oh my dreams and oh my losses.

So I went to see a new therapist on Friday. I liked my previous therapist. She was helpful in many respects, but she didn't really ask me enough questions. It would help me more to have the questions asked of me.

So I tried someone out upon a friend's recommendation. This therapist claimed to have experience working with infertility patients. I even quizzed her a bit about this before I met with her. Thankfully, she offers a free 30 minute consultation. During that time, I was able to assess that she will not be a good fit for me. It's too bad because in some ways I would like her.

She asked questions, so that was good. Also, she is one of the few people, who outright acknowledged my infertility as loss. Loss! I didn't have to explain the ongoing loss and grief to her. That felt amazing - I thanked her for that... I truly felt - validated - as they say in the shrinky business.

Unfortunately though, she was pretty focused, without any prompting, on what my mom and dad must have done to screw me up... and how that has led to my infertility. How if I release the stress and messiness that came from whatever difficult beliefs my parents inflicted upon me as a tike, then - only then - might I have the power of creation within me.

HUH????

Which is basically what I said to her...  HUH???

I asked her what she meant. She tried to clarify, but it sounded a little hocus pocus to me. So I said, "Are you saying that my infertility is because of an emotional problem I have from childhood, rather than a medical issue - like PCOS and lack of ovulation?" (I wanted to be sure I understood her clearly.)

She replied, "Well, I'm not a medical doctor, but yes - there is a lot of research that shows that stress and emotional issues cause infertility. So if we can clear up your cobwebs, then I think your body will be ready to create, to give life... after all, our bodies are meant for creation of life. If that's not happening, there's something holding that creation back." 

Um, yeah... it's called a medical condition. It was at this point that she leaned forward with an excited gleam in her eye and asked if I'd consider acupuncture. Sigh. By this point, I knew I'd not go back.

Do I need to say it? Infertility is a medical condition - a disease - not an emotional issue. What other diseases are so easily considered merely a result of emotional baggage, even in such professional settings?

Thing is, she never once asked me about what we've done medically, whether or not I have a diagnosis etc., or how long we've been dealing with this. These seem like primary questions to ask someone who has come to you seeking help dealing with the crisis of infertility and childlessness.

Anyhow, I reckon I don't need to get into all of this here, but if stress causes infertility, why do so many women in war-torn, famine-ridden, and cruelly oppressive environments have children? Why do so many other women in extreme stress situations have babies without a problem?  It's so silly. This is such a fallacy, stress.

Aside from her not recognizing infertility as a medical issue that then greatly impacts emotions and stress and relationships and and and.... and though I'm not a licensed therapist, I just don't think the way for me to try to move forward from the heartbreak of infertility is to delve into when I was potty trained and what not. Here's the thing, my mom and pop... well, we didn't have the most super functional family in the world, but they did alright. They did the best they could with what they had. They did far better by us than anyone ever did by them. Were there issues that still impact me? Sure! So what? Isn't that true of everyone? We deal with it. They did alright by us... We're better off in so many ways than they ever were - and isn't that a pretty good measure of parental success?

For Pete's sake, if only people with perfectly functional families could procreate, the human race would have died out long before it began!! Whatever issues I may have once had about my parentals, I don't anymore. That doesn't mean mom doesn't freak me out and drive me a little crazy sometimes... she's my mom, after all - and that's kinda just the way it is sometimes with moms. I just wish I could have my own someone(s) to freak out and drive crazy, right. It would be only fair. ☺  Well, someone other than poor, amazing Ar, that is...

So...  so much for that therapist. Harrumph!! At least the tea was good and the session was free.

My chiropractor visits are much better though, so at least I'm 1 for 2 with these early efforts for self-improvement.


Life wants for beauty.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end." (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

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)

If I stand

Well, in exactly two weeks - fourteen little days - I will be forty years old. There is no turning back and no slowing things down. But on the bright side, in the last week, I've been given some incredibly helpful advice..... I've been told to not worry about forty, that "forty is the new thirty," that the forties are the best years, and that it's really not a big deal. Gee, if only I'd known that forty was the new thirty, I wouldn't have been upset at all. Silly me. Yeah, thanks for the empathy, my well-meaning, but unseeing, fertile friends! Yes, every one of them has kids already.

Thing is, I listen with concern as they talk about their motherhood and pregnancy difficulties... I don't understand why they can't try, for even half a second, to understand why I'm so freaked out about this. Oh well. In the meantime, the party planning is proceeding... I will turn forty and we will celebrate. IF is trying its darnedest to rob me of my joy of birthdays, but it won't take me down without a fight. Sigh.

Also in the last week, I've found out about three more pregnancies and two more births. Another will likely give birth any day now. I've literally lost count of all the pregnancies and newborns in my life right now. It's like a regular baby boom, these days - I can't keep track anymore. And good for them!! It's lonely here, but I would not want anyone else to go through this. I'm so grateful for the cyber company I've found in this journey, for the support and prayers - and for knowing that though this is lonely, I'm not alone in these crazy ups and downs. Still, I sure wish we could have all met up under better circumstances!! I do pray that better circumstances are around the corner for all of us!

In the meantime, what's a girl to do?

We're always walking such a fine line, aren't we? That line between hope and despair, trying to keep it all in balance... it takes so little to knock us one way or the other. In my experience, too much hope (who knew before IF that there could be such a thing as too much hope?) is a set-up for certain emotional disaster. But too much despair leads to the same place. So we try to carefully traverse that fine line - never daring to hope too much, but never wanting to give in to despair.

So, what is a girl to do, anyhow?

Besides feel a bit crazy, that is....

I wish this forty thing wasn't doing its best to throw me so far over that despair line? I mean, what is my problem? I love everyone's birthdays!! Hey - we were born! We're still alive - that's super awesome!!! Right!?! So what then - do I now think my reproductive parts know it's almost my big four-oh-no? Maybe there's some actual alarm that will actually go off in my nether regions that will signal them to work even less than they already do? I don't know - guess I'll find out in fourteen days. I'm sure I'll let you all know! Who knows - maybe it'll be so loud that you'll hear it for yourselves... So, I guess if you hear some glass-shatteringly loud screeching sounds on Saturday, July 9, you'll know to just turn towards Minnesota and give a little salute for a fellow comrade.

So then.... what is a nearly forty year old girl to do? Most of the time I just don't know. I guess most of the time, I figure it's best to just keep on swimming.

But as I swim, I'll continue to try to cling to what I know.... that for the past thirty-nine years and fifty weeks, God has been good to me. He has been faithful. I trust He will not stop being good or faithful to me after forty. I don't know the expiration date of my potential fertility, but I do know that there is no expiration on God's love. I do trust in this. So if I stand, I will stand on the promise that He will pull me through.


But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. (Lamentations 3: 21-25)

The Old Rugged Cross

On a hill far away, stood an old rugged Cross
The emblem of suff'ring and shame
And I love that old Cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain


So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down
I will cling to the old rugged Cross
And exchange it some day for a crown


Oh, that old rugged Cross so despised by the world
Has a wondrous attraction for me
For the dear Lamb of God, left his Glory above
To bear it to dark Calvary


So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down
I will cling to the old rugged Cross
And exchange it some day for a crown


In the old rugged Cross, stain'd with blood so divine
A wondrous beauty I see
For the dear Lamb of God, left his Glory above
To pardon and sanctify me


So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down
I will cling to the old rugged Cross
And exchange it some day for a crown


To the old rugged Cross, I will ever be true
Its shame and reproach gladly bear
Then He'll call me some day to my home far away
Where his glory forever I'll share


So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down
I will cling to the old rugged Cross
And exchange it some day for a crown...


Thank you so much, dear Jesus! Life seems so challenging to me, these days, but please - please help me to never lose sight of what it's really all about....

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. John 3:16 & 17

The days of snow and mothers

This I believe with all my heart: Spring should spring - not snow! It's mid-April and we woke up to snow covered ground... it was almost too much to bear. I certainly couldn't bare my toes, which is far and away one of my most favorite things to do.

Incidentally, I bared my toes four days in a row, this past week. It was a rather summery spring, for part of the week, anyhow. Then back to winter. This past one has been a very long winter. I really need for it to move on. But each time I feel the hope and warmth of spring again, winter laughs icily in my face.

I've never in my life been so obsessed with Spring, as I am this year. I've always loved it, of course, but this year... everything in me aches for it!! Aches for it?? Sheesh, a little melodramatic, wouldn't you say? Maybe, but it's as true as the fact that toes were never meant to be cooped up in socks and shoes! I need Spring to spring and stay sprung!!! Is that too much to ask? I need it as much as I need air!! Ok, maybe I need air a wee bit more... but you get the (snow) drift.

I need to know that at some point, the snow will stop. The cold will stop. The ice will stop. Every time I believe it's over, it just ain't...

But it will come to an end! I do believe that it can't last forever. I say this because it never has lasted forever before - at least not in my 39 Winters.

Even knowing that Spring and Summer will also be temporary doesn't make me want for them any less.

Don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with season analogies relating to my journey with IF and anxiety. Nor will I break out into a rousing rendition of "The Circle of Life...." Ok, it's too late for that, but at least you can't actually hear me singing it...

Anyhow, I wandered around a bit today, running a few Saturday type errands. Ar and I are going to Honduras next month (no snow there!!!), so I was also doing a little shopping for that.

Of course, the one down side to Spring - at least for an IFer - are the constant reminders of Mother's Day. Every store I went to, every commercial I heard... all reminded me that the both wonderful and heart-wrenching holiday is close at hand.

Don't mistake me, I love my mom of course! I think mom's deserve a day. I think they deserve more than one. But for anyone who is walking a mile in my toe-covered shoes, it's an incredibly difficult day. So much so that I don't even want to look through the card aisle, to find one for my own mother. (But I will.)

It's not just all the cards and brunches and flowers that get to me.... it's not just all the jewelry commercials, and it's not just that the pastor always calls all the moms to stand up, gives them flowers, and sings their praises... while I sit in the back, face down, hair falling around my face, trying my best to keep the raw clanging of my emptiness to a dull roar. Yes, it's those things, but it's not just those things. It's that every single Mother's Day, I think... "next year....."

Next year by Mother's Day, that'll be me! I'll be a mom next year!!! Next year! Next year. Next year? Next year.... I'm not even sure I believe it anymore, but that hope comes and goes, like the snow in Spring. (Sorry, did I just bore you with an analogy, after all? My apologies!)

Will it be me? Will it ever be me? I don't know. Unlike Spring, it's not inevitable that I'll be a mom. So that begs the question, how many more childless Mother's Days can I endure?

Well, I suppose the answer is simply, as many as I must. I'm resilient(ish), right? Well, I used to think so. I know one thing from this journey, I am not as strong as I thought I was. Still, this won't kill me, right. Right? But was Nietzsche right, that "That which does not kill us makes us stronger...?"

Well, I don't know about that, but I do firmly believe that the Lord will sustain me and that He who began a good work in me will carry it on to completion, so I will stand on the promise that He will pull me through even this. But you know, honestly, as firm as my faith in that is, it doesn't make it easier... (I don't think it's meant to.) I have to go straight through the hurt anyhow. There do not seem to be any shortcuts through it. I know this, because I've tried. It's dark, cold, and dense, and it's downright terrifying. And though Spring is inevitable - even in the midst of this dreadful season - it's so easy to lose perspective, if not careful. For whatever reason, though, it's for me to go through. (Note to self: remember, you're not in it alone!) (Oh, and ooops - sorry, I guess another little analogy made its way in there.)

In related news, tomorrow is Day 28. AF usually comes on 28 or 29. I have absolutely no hope this month, even though all signs were go on ovulation and such - and even though there's absolutely no reason why I shouldn't be pregnant. But I know I'm not. My, how pessimistic that sounds... Normally I'm full of anticipation and wild belief, followed closely by, what seems their constant - and unwanted - travel companion, despair. I guess I just don't have the energy for it this month. I don't have the energy for the fall (that one was NOT an analogy.) I just don't. And I really don't want to have to put on socks and shoes tomorrow.

Oh, please, dear Lord... please, maybe by next Mother's Day??

Oh, and one other request...

...Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.... Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit. (Psalm 51:10-12)

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.