A dweam wifin a dweeeam....

Last night I dreamed that I was sashaying (actually sashaying!!!!!) down the street singing... no, more like - exuberantly belting out - the following tune,

"You've got to.... laugh a little... cry a little... until the clouds roll by a little.... That's the story of... that's the glory of... love..."

And all the people on all the streets were absolutely moved!! And no, I don't mean they all ran away from my awful singing - I mean that they LOVED ME!!!! They were mesmerized! It was seriously the best dream ever!!!!

Truth be told, I love to sing - and have no real shame about how awful I sound - so this dream was like a dweeam wifin a dweeeeam for me!! (That's dream within a dream, in case you're not a Princess Bride fan.)

Anyhow, I mentioned my dweam, errr, dream, this morning on Facebook. One of my friends responded with this, "Oh. My. Goodness. Gosh I love your posts. If you had a blog, I'm telling you, you'd get your own t.v. show..." Of course my ego loves the positive feedback on my humor, but I found her comment today to be beyond amusing since, in fact - if you're reading this you already know this - I already have a blog.

Of course, only Ar and two friends actually know about this blog, other than the friends I've met out here in Blogville. AND, as you also know, my blog is just not particularly entertaining at all! It's not intended to be. It may actually be downright depressing and whiny, come to think of it... But it's also been therapeutic. In any case, her remark was pretty hysterical in the, "isn't it ironic?" department.

Anyhow, it really made me think though. IF has actually kind of given me something good. It's taught me who my very truest friends are. Those who can really know me - struggles and laughs and everything in between - and still love me. They may be fewer than I'd thought, but that makes them all the more golden. I'm so grateful for this!

And I do love to laugh and to make others laugh, so thank God for all manner of friends. Those I can laugh with, those I can cry with - and especially those who I can do both with.

(Ar is most definitely included in that group of friends who love in laughter and tears, through thick and thin... even though the stinker says we're not friends because we're better than friends - but I insist that we're both!!!)

Well, again with the irony... this whole thought process started with a dream about me randomly singing the Glory of Love, which is actually quite fitting. So, I'll close with some Bette today. Enjoy!

Live in the moment and hope for the best

Apparently a dog's motto is, "Live in the moment and hope for the best" - at least according to my coworker, who is the biggest dog lover I've ever met. I don't know if that's true or not, but it's not a bad motto. It's always been hard for me to just live in the moment. I guess anxiety and living in the moment don't exactly go hand in hand, and though panic attacks are new to me, I have come to acknowledge that the more generalized anxiety is not new to me. Still, I have do always hope for the best, so maybe I'm part dog....

AF is two days late. I'm honestly still not very hopeful about it, though, as this has happened before a couple times. The disappointment is so much greater, the higher my hopes get - so I try to be cautious. Anyhow, my body feels PMSy - not pregnant (from what I've read, that is), so I'm trusting my body and not getting excited.

Mind you, I'm not a pessimist; I'm an optimist with lots of experience... So I stopped off at the store tonight to pick up some EPTs -- and some extra AF supplies. I would like it to be true, but I'll be prepared either way.

Also, kind of a funny thing happened today. Ar and I are going on a trip next month, so we went to a travel clinic today to see what shots/meds we need. The questionnaire asked if I am pregnant or expecting to be pregnant soon. Instead of checking either yes or no, and though there was no space to actually write anything, I managed to squeeze in, "It's certainly possible, though not very likely."

The nurse read it, then looked back at me with an odd expression and said, "We don't recommend anti-malarial pills with pregnancy; you should avoid pregnancy for three months after starting them." I replied matter of factly, "Well, that shouldn't be a problem." Then she really gave me a strange look, so I said, "Well, it hasn't happened in more than five years, so I guess the odds are pretty low it'll happen in the next three months."

Meanwhile, Ar was muttering, "It might happen, babe, it might..."

I could tell the poor nurse was thinking, "Let's just stick to the travel medicines, crazy lady!"

I was amused by this little scenario. It seems my ability to interact normally in society has been somewhat compromised by IF. It seems I can't even answer a simple yes or no question on a medical questionnaire, anymore.

But I contend that being asked if I'm pregnant (when I'm two days late), or plan to be soon (when I really, really (really!) want to be) is simply NOT a simple yes or no question!!

Anyhow, I found it a bit humorous. No one else could possibly see the humor in it, though, so I posted it on an IF page I participate in. They totally got it.

I guess that's an interesting thing about IF. It puts you in this weird little club that none of us want to be in, but it sure is nice to have good company - even if you've never met any of them in real life.

Even if we all go on to have children, which I hope and pray happens, I think that most of us will never quite leave the club because IF will have left its mark, hopefully making us better parents and more caring, empathetic people. Whatever the outcome, I truly hope that we will all be better for it. For many of us, such a thought seems impossible. But with God, all things are possible.

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Romans 12:12

That three-letter word

Yesterday  was a fine day; I was productive and felt mostly happy.  Today was rather the opposite; I'm not sure why.  I was supposed to see my friend, who has four children.  Four.  And frankly, I was a bit nervous about it.  I hadn't seen her since she told me she was pregnant with number four.  On a side note, why people feel the need to tell me in person is beyond me...  They probably think it's the proper way to do it, but it's so not.  Please write me an email.  Send a carrier pigeon, hire a skywriter - I don't care, but don't put me through the incredible conflicting emotions I have about all this in person, especially not in public.  Let me just write back to you the words I know are right and good, but still feel the way I feel.  Don't make me put on that smile and say those right and good words with my mouth, all while still trying to choke down my lunch without bursting into weepy tears.  And above all, please don't yourself break into weepy tears about how guilty you feel for getting pregnant numerous times, when I can't even get pregnant once...

When this same friend told me about number three, it was at our favorite restaurant and she started sobbing inconsolably...  how unfair it was that it was her and not me and so on... and how she feels so guilty.  I appreciate that she cares, I do.  But it was a nightmare for me.   Sure, make infertile girl sit there and comfort you about you being pregnant with number three.  It was absurd.  Now, I'm sure that anyone who's had children feels more for her, than me.  You'll say, "oh, that poor thing - what with all the pregnancy hormones and what not."  I know, because I've heard it.

But really, if you're reading this and feel that way, just put yourself in my stirrups, for just a moment...  At the time, I was 37 years old, going through more invasive testing, following more than two years of heartbreaking infertility - that's:

• 24 failed monthly cycles, 
• coincidentally, 24 binges on chocolate cake and ice cream,
• 730 basal body temperature readings,
• 168 ovulation predictor sticks,
• at least 24 big fat negative pregnancy tests - more on hopeful months,
• countless tears shed, and
• was just starting twice weekly acupuncture appointments.

Plus there had been a major set-back in my treatment plan. And I was just starting Clomid.   And there was no child to show for all this.  No product of our marital bliss, no pay-off for determination and perseverance.  Nothing.  And I was handling it all relatively ok, but to sit there and comfort her about this, was almost too much to bear.  But I did it.  And she wasn't just sniffling and moving on - no, she was weeping.  Weeping!  Inconsolably.  And I was stoically comforting her.                  

Did she have any idea how often I weep inconsolably?   Did she have any idea how incredibly sad it makes my dear hubby to have me so incredibly sad, and not be able to "fix it," not be able to comfort me?  Not be able to give me this one thing that I want so much? Shouldn't this comforting  have been the other way around?  Did she care how much I actually hurt, or just how guilty she felt?

It's not that I'm not happy for people with children.  I truly would not want her or anyone else to have to deal with this constant pain of infertility, this particular brand of emptiness.   But it always begs that little three-letter word...

Why?

Why them and not me?  Why can't we each have this?  I'm a win-win kinda gal, why can't we each have two?  Why not me?   Am I so awful?  Did I do something so wrong?   

Why, why, why, why, why!?!?!?  

So why try to get together with this friend?  Because she's my friend.  I've never been someone who gives up on friendships, so I won't let infertility make me a person who avoid friends, just because it hurts so much to be reminded of my own constant failure.

And why am I constantly failing, anyhow?  I don't know. What I have is "unexplained infertility," as they say.  And so I really don't know why.

Maybe I'm too fat.  And maybe I shouldn't have eaten that brownie, just because I had made a whole pan for my friend that had no place to go, because she had to cancel our get-together.  But at least I didn't eat the whole pan.  I only had one.  Big one.  But I shouldn't have.  What if it makes me more infertile?

It's so hard to get past looking for the reason why and scrutinizing my every action and thought. 

And maybe there just is no why.  Maybe not everything happens for a reason.   And would it hurt any less, even if it could be explained. 

Anyhow, my friend had to cancel at the last minute because of an ear infection with one of her four kids, and I understand - I do.  And she's now dealing with a new health issue, herself, and is having a rough time.  Her children are a huge comfort to her.  I'm so happy that she has them to be a comfort to her.   

But I wanted to see my friend, even knowing it would hurt me.  And it also hurt to not see my friend.  Because everything hurts.  Why can't I have kids to completely inconvenience me and take precedence over my plans?   Isn't there deep meaning in that inconvenience? 

So there I was, darling hubby out of town on business, my plans for my Sunday gone, and the pan of brownies I'd baked for her and her family still lingering...  And that new, familiar feeling struck once again.   That loneliness.  Those feelings of anxiety.  The feeling of being just a bit completely out of control.  That why.

Why do little people, who were never there, create such a hole? 

So, after my friend canceled, I checked Facebook... a nice diversion, right?  They should just call it Fertilebook.  Another pregnancy announcement and two more sonogram pictures of other very fertile  friends.  And I'm happy for them.  I am.  I think.  But why does it also make me so sad?   Why is it so hard to be at work, when 10% of my department is pregnant?  Why can't I just be 100% happy for my friends?  Am I the world's most awful person?  I think it's possible that I am. 

Do I think there are a limited number of children in the world and they took mine?

Is it the old green-eyed monster?

Is it that I hear the creaking of a door closing?

So all this to say, it ended up being a very rough day. 

There are a lot of whys in this world.  I certainly don't hold the exclusive rights to the word.  Or to these feelings of emptiness.  But I need to learn how to keep going.  How to hope, without letting the constant monthly let-down slowly gnaw away at my entire soul and being.   How to stop asking why all the time, looking for a place to lay blame.  How to accept whatever the outcome may be.  How to say in faith, without knowing the outcome, "It is well, it is well... with my soul."

I was recently reading again about how God promised Abraham that he would be a father by his wife Sarah.  And how Sarah laughed, because she was so advanced in years.  Much more advanced that I am - at least there's that... And I think, "I wouldn't laugh, Lord... I wouldn't disbelieve, just give me that promise."  I wouldn't laugh.  If I had a promise from God, I would believe it.  I would.  So, why not me?  Why don't I get a promise?

But the truth is, I do.  I do have a promise from God.  Lots of them, actually.  Sure, maybe not a direct promise that I will be blessed with children, but I do have promises-a-plenty.  Do I truly believe them?  Maybe I'm not laughing, but maybe I'm not truly believing them, either.  Aren't the promises He's already given me good enough for me?  Is He truly my ever present help in times of trouble, or only in times of trouble that don't include my infertility?

I spent nearly four weeks in Siberia, eleven years ago.  I remember sitting on a cement wall by the Angara River.  Our Russian friends would tell us to not sit on the wall because they (truly) believed that sitting on cement would cause infertility.  We laughed.  Hmm, I wonder if that's the reason why....

Luke 6:21: Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied.  Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.