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 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

Back to Day One

Well, after being stocked with both pregnancy tests and AF supplies, you can probably guess which one ended up being necessary... This morning I awoke to find our world covered with snow, along with the unwelcome arrival of the dreadful AF.

So, that's just the way it goes, I guess. So far, I haven't had a major breakdown today. So I guess that's good. Usually AF puts me into a real state. Today I feel kind of numb, but I've been real busy today. Maybe I better stay busy, so I try not to think about it.

I am a little concerned because last month AF was a little late, as well. Before that, I have been 28 days, like clockwork, for ages. So, why suddenly 30 or 31 again? I guess I'll just have to expect that, from now on.

The snow did disappear over the course of the day. Wish I could say the same for AF.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34: 18

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

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 point of no point

I had my third appointment with my therapist, tonight. I guess it's been good. So far we haven't gotten to the relaxation techniques for my anxiety. I guess that's because I keep talking about stuff. I realize that it's nice to not worry about her feelings. I can just talk. Lately, with others, to some degree, I always worry. I'm always worried about saying something wrong. I don't want to overlook their challenges, just because of mine. And, I'm not supposed to be anxious and depressed. I'm supposed to be funny and jolly and have relatively interesting commentary on life... And I guess I continue to still sort of be that... at least when I have the energy. I'm not supposed to be how I feel, these days. Most people don't even know what I am going through, anyhow.

Why does it bother me that my friend with cancer posts on Facebook and Caring Bridge about her condition, almost every day - and gets this outpouring of support and love and prayers... I support and love her, and pray for her, too.

I told this to my therapist tonight and I said I think it's so ridiculous that I feel this way about my friend's Caring Bridge page... She has cancer. I don't want cancer, by any means. But somehow it frustrates me too, not because I begrudge her anything - I don't, but, but, but, but... where's my outpouring of support? I don't need casseroles, but don't I get anything for all this?

Sometimes I feel like I am just silently withering away, while my body walks around acting normal(ish) - except that it can't produce children.

My therapist asked me what it is I would want, if I could do a Caring Bridge page.

That's a great question. I honestly don't even know.

The only thing I could think of was that I would want maybe some modicum of sensitivity. I would want to not lose friends because they feel so guilty about my IF. I would want to have people know and care - actually care - but not act like I'm a leper.

Maybe I want people to actually see me. The funny and jolly, and the IF, and the anxiety and sadness. But there really are a few people, who know all that - and still love me, anyhow. Isn't that good enough? A few people who know me and love me is a lot!!! I'm so thankful!!! So what is this more I crave? Is is just a reflection of the emptiness I feel because I can't do this thing that I should be able to do?

Do I need to come-out to all, about my IF? Maybe. But I suspect most people do have an inkling. While I don't broadcast it, I'm not particularly secretive. But I am pretty sure that most people don't know what to do with it. IF is just plain weird. It's not a normal disease that others know what to do with. It seems that, for most people, there are only two options, in dealing with an IF person: ignore them, or say totally crazy things to them. And it seems to just go on and on and on. And on.

I was again told today to not worry about my upcoming 40th... the forties are great, my friend said. I replied that everyone tells me that, but they all have kids already.... She, who is 43 and has two daughters in their twenties, asked me if we've considered adoption.... Sigh. Maybe I'll just stay in the IF closet, after all. To any non-IFer that reads this, that may sound like a slam on adoption. Of course, IFers know that it's not. I do notice that no one gives my friend with cancer these sort of pat answers... Oh, just adopt. Ok, gee - thanks. I should have thought of that. Knowing my friend means well just doesn't really help.

I guess the bottom line is that I just feel really, really bad right now. I literally just realized... I'm due for AF any day now... Some months, I have that hope against hope. This month, not so much.

Looking back at what I've written here, I still don't know my point. But I think I need to decide I don't have to have a point. I can just write. Or cry. Or be funny. Or not. Points are optional, resolutions not required. My blog, my rules, right...


Psalm 42:5-11: Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God. My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar. Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. I say to God, my rock: “Why have you forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy? As with a deadly wound in my bones, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me all the day long,“Where is your God?” Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.