Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Active!!

It's official, we are active! Our profile is now being shared to potential birth parents. Now we wait for word of a match.

Yikes!!

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Owner's Manual on Babies-- Check.

Home Study-- check
FBI Clearances-- check
Adoption Profile Created-- check
Masses of paperwork submitted- check

Holy crap. This is going to happen. I mean this thing is REALLY going to happen. Some time next week we are likely to be activated-- meaning our profile will be available to birth mothers. Sure, it could still take several months, but the focus over the past few months has been on the process-- getting our home study complete, getting our clearances and other background checks complete, creating our profile, etc. Process, process, process. So much so, there has been no thought to actually having a baby. But this week I started thinking-- "Holy Shit, I better get some books-- I'm not going to know what to do!!" Next week is a milestone. Next week we start to wait. Next week we better start reading!

Friday, November 12, 2010

Dear Birth Parents

George and I have officially been approved. We've "passed" the home study. Frankly, it never occurred to me we wouldn't pass and I'm glad I never realized it was a possibility as it would have been one more thing for me to stress out about. With the home study done, we've been working on our profile. The profile is essentially where George and I market ourselves to a potential birth mother. We write on many different topics all intended to give the birth mother a feel for who we are. We also have to write a letter to the birth parents-- straight from the heart-- below is ours:

Dear Birth Parents:

Thank you for taking time to learn about us, we are George and Angie. Although we have tried hard to imagine how difficult this decision is for you, we know we can’t ever fully understand. But please know this, should we become a part of your decision, we will honor your courage and selflessness and make sure your child knows of this and of your love for him or her.

We met the week of 9-11 while living in Washington, DC. We became great friends and even gave each other dating advice. A year or so later, we started dating and have been together ever since. We moved to Colorado in 2005 and married in 2006. Our relationship is built on a foundation of friendship and love. We are best friends and know each other better than we know ourselves. We look forward to sharing George’s generosity and compassion and Angie’s enthusiasm and strength with your child as he or she grows and matures.

In our home, your child will be surrounded with warmth and love. Our friends and families have wanted this for us almost as much as we have—and together we will provide your child, with the love any parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle gives their child, grandchild, niece or nephew. We will love your child even before we meet him or her. We will shower your child with hugs and kisses, he or she will even get puppy kisses from our dogs Happy and Porter. Your child will not want for affection.

In our home, your child will be provided with endless encouragement. We want your child to know no bounds to what he or she can do. Growing up, we were both taught the value of hard work and education. Every success we’ve achieved can be credited to our hard work and pursuit of education and it is our intent to teach this same value to your child. Whether ballerina, President of the United States, Olympic Athlete or nuclear physicist, we will do everything in our power to help him or her realize their dream.

In our home, your child will know fun and laughter. Humor and fun have played an integral part in our lives and we love to make each other laugh. We will live for the sound of your child’s laugh. We will play games and read books. We will play catch in the yard and build forts and imaginary castles. We will play hide and seek and throw the ball for Happy and Porter. After a day playing in the snow, we will curl up by the fire to warm our hands and toes. We will play and swim in the pool and cool off during hot summer days by eating ice cream. We will hike and camp and enjoy the beautiful Colorado outdoors. Most importantly, we will cherish our time spent together as a family.

Our journey to become parents was one filled with challenges and heartache but ultimately led us here and for that we are grateful. We are honored and humbled at the opportunity to parent your child. We will love, support and nurture your child unconditionally. We are excited to start this new chapter in our lives and watch each other become Mom and Dad.

If you choose adoption and choose us—your child will know of your strength, courage, love and selflessness. We look forward to keeping you involved in your child’s life by sharing milestones and stories with you through photos and letters. It is a privilege to be considered in this important decision and hope this letter is able to provide you with some measure of comfort.

With all our hearts,

George and Angie

Friday, October 15, 2010

A new appreciation for me.

George and I have been going through our homestudy, which is a necessary step in the adoption process. For the last and final meeting George and I met individually with the social worker. Prior to that meeting we had to fill out various questionnaires. The questions focus on describing our childhood, our relationships with our parents at various times growing up, drug and alcohol abuse, issues in our marriage and so on. I had a lot of trouble answering many of the questions-- these weren't fill in the blank questions, rather check the box (es) that best describe blank-- for instance check the box(es) that best describe you as a child. Shouldn't be too difficult, right? I did not have a Norman Rockwell-esque childhood and I struggled with how honest to be when answering questions. I didn't want to jeopardize our chances of becoming parents. For instance, describing myself as a child-- I really don't remember how I was as a child-- I don't remember being happy, I don't remember being sad, I don't remember being carefree, I simply don't remember. Describe your relationship with your dad-- I had 30 to40 adjectives to choose from, yet none of them seemed to quite fit-- I marked the box "other" and hand wrote "complicated". It seemed every other question caused me considerable pause as I struggled to answer. In the end, I was as honest as I could be. While I came to terms with things from my childhood and adolescence many years ago, its still not something I enjoy rehashing.

Sitting with the social worker and talking through my answers, was emotional to say the least-- we sat there for almost 90 minutes. George's session lasted 30 minutes. George did have a Norman Rockwell childhood-- he really did. To his knowledge there were never any problems or issues-- everything was just fine. Of course that wasn't the case, but he never knew that--his parents never fought in front of him and shielded him from virtually every and any potential conflict. This tactic, while well meaning, created a different set of issues as George emerged into adulthood-- but for all intent and purposes, George's childhood was happy and carefree.

My discussion with the social worker led to a light bulb moment-- as we went through my life talking through everything, I realized on paper I have every right to be unstable-- but I'm not, I have every right to be beat down--but I'm not, I have every right to be in need of serious therapy--but I'm not. I am resilient. I am strong. I have taken every punch life has thrown at me and I'm still standing tall and proud. I feel wiser beyond my years and I am certain all these things will make me a better parent.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

What I Learned on Vacation.

In no particular order:

1. Happy (one of our dogs) is Houdini incarnate. Night one of vacation- George and I grabbed a bite to eat, the dogs stayed in the car-- also in the car was all our food and plastic jugs of water. Now mind you we have a Subaru Outback with the dog guard, so they were in the hatchback area-- food in the backseat. When we came out from the restaurant, Happy was in the backseat in the middle of devouring the food--- Cliff bars, trail mix, fruit snacks, dog treats, etc. She also stepped on and punctured one of the water jugs, thus causing water to pour out all over the backseat. How was Happy able to knock the seat down and get out of the hatchback area? Why did she enjoy Cliff bars more than the trail mix?

2. Just because the calendar says August, doesn't mean it won't snow.

3. Bugs; I don't like them. I try to act like bugs don't bother me, but the honest truth is I get a bit squeamish. Especially with flying ones that remind me of a big ass tick and make a thud sound when they hit the car. One day when we were driving through the Many Glacier area of Glacier National Park-- we had pulled off to the side of the road. We were told a grizzly and her cubs were expected to come through the meadow we were at. So there we sat waiting. I was standing up through the sun roof, when I started to hear "thwack"-- couple seconds later "thwack"- few seconds more-- "thwack" and so on. This flying-beetle-tick bug was all over the place and the hair on the back of my neck started to stand up. I started to panic a bit (on the inside), but managed not to completely freak out. A bit later when we were back in the car driving, I felt something on my neck and practically went into a panic convulsion. George- who nearly drove off the road due to being startled from my body suddenly jerking, pulled over. He barely had the car stopped when I whipped open the door and practically ripped my shirt off to get the bug off of me: there was no bug.

4. Leave the dogs at home. While, overall I enjoyed having them on the trip. They are limiting. In National Parks you can hardly have them anywhere and though we managed to find places both outside Yellowstone and Glacier to day board them so we could go enjoy the parks, we always had to make sure to be out of the park early enough to pick them up.

5. Don't be afraid to have lunch with people you don't know. We had lunch one day at a little cafe known for their pie. The place was packed and there was a wait. The restaurant asked if we wouldn't mind sharing a table with two other couples-- we said "sure"-- though a bit hesitant. It was a great lunch-- one couple in their fifties was from Alberta, and the other couple, late sixties, was from the area. We had a great conversation. The Alberta couple had recently climbed Mt. Rainier and was in town for a wedding, and the other told us about Huckleberry Ice Cream. A couple times a year this couple makes the trek from their home to Glacier (about 2 hours)-- they stop for Huckleberry Ice Cream on the way over to the cafe for lunch, they then head back. They were adorable, they were what I imagine George and I to be at that age. Still razzing each other and thoroughly enjoying spending time with each other-- still.

6. It's not nice to scare older people. I scared the crap out of that adorable couple I mentioned above. The gentleman left his jacket at the cafe and left before we noticed. We turned it in to the cashier. While in line to get back into Glacier, I saw them in the line next to us-- I jumped out of the car and ran up to their window from behind, when I placed my hand on the car and started talking to them they gasped and recoiled as if they were about to be car jacked-- I'm lucky I didn't cause any heart attacks. He did, however go back to retrieve his jacket.

7. When going hiking in grizzly country, it is best not to read about Timothy Treadwell aka "Grizzly Man" the night before. For whatever reason, George read quite a bit about Timothy Treadwell in particular, details of his death--which in case you're not familiar with his story-- was due to a grizzly attack. So, when we went for a hike a bit off the beaten path in Glacier and saw the "warning, you're hiking in grizzly country" sign at the trailhead, he started to get a bit concerned-- unbeknownst to me. When I asked the Ranger about bear sightings, he said the rule of thumb is you can see a bear (black or grizzly) on any trail in the Park. He mentioned to talk real loud and make noise on the trail. Off we started on the trail, within a few minutes George started clapping his hands and making a "woot, woot" noise. A couple minutes pass-- "woot, woot" another few, "woot, woot." He finally fesses up that he's a bit freaked due to what he learned of Treadwell the night before-- which he shares with me. A few minutes later, I'm clapping and wooting. Never did see a bear.

8. Yellowstone is cool, but Glacier...Glacier is my new favorite place.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

One Year Ago

One year ago I experienced my first ectopic. It's funny what I remember from that time and how surreal it is to this day. While I don't remember the exact date of the surgery, I remember what day of the week it was... a Monday. I remember what I was wearing, brown capris and a white short sleeve blouse with a a green and red pattern. This post is a way to help extract my memories of that time, no matter how detailed and get it "on paper" as a ritual of sorts in hopes of finding closure to this event. Prior to this, I didn't know I could experience something worse than my miscarriages and after this event, miscarriage would be what I would hope for when I found out I had yet another failed pregnancy.

It was our third of three IUIs. The day before I was to take a pregnancy test, I started to bleed. My heart sunk, I thought the IUI failed-- AGAIN. I remember being upset and telling George my concern that if we can't get pregnant with all this help then it was never going to happen. I remember being relieved and annoyed I didn't have solace as my brother and his kids were in town visiting-- all this, one year ago.

About 7 to 10 days later I was still bleeding-- I remember thinking how odd that was, but given the Clomid and the stress I figured no wonder my cycle was "off." It was a Friday when I nearly called the doctor's office about my irregular period, but then I thought, "Let's not be paranoid or over react." That night my breasts started to hurt and dread came over me. Saturday morning I took a pregnancy test and immediately started to bawl--- positive... it was fucking positive and with all the bleeding I knew something was wrong. I called the doctor's office and was told to immediately come down to the office. The office open on Saturday was about a 45 minute drive-- and boy was it a long one. They drew blood, I asked for an ultrasound and wasn't given one. The nurse told me "Plenty of women have implantation bleeding." In between sobs I told her I know what implantation bleeding is (had it with pregnancy number #1) and THIS period-like bleeding for 10 days is NOT FUCKING IMPLANTATION BLEEDING!!!!!! I wanted to scream at her-- "I KNOW SOMETHING IS WRONG!!!!" I walked out of there with no ultrasound and no piece of mind. When the HCG results came back, they came back strong. I don't remember what the numbers were exactly and I suppose the specific numbers don't matter. I was told to go to my usual doctor office on Monday for another blood draw. Sunday night I noticed a discomfort on the left side of my lower back-- an ominous sign. All this, one year ago.

That Monday morning, I went in for my blood draw and asked to talk to a nurse. When she saw me she greeted me with a big "Congratulations!" My response was "Really? Cause I'm not quite feeling that." I explained the events of the last couple of weeks and mentioned the recent back pain, which I was still feeling. I remember her telling me to let her know if the pain turned into sharp stabbing pain. I remember thinking "Errrrrr...oooookkkkkaaaaaayyyyyy....that's an odd thing to say when you're telling me there is nothing to worry about." I remember telling George after the doctor visit "You watch, it'll be an ectopic" and his response "Way to be positive, Angie." All this, one year ago.

Later that day, my pain became more noticeable, but still wasn't a sharp stabbing pain rather a dull aching pain. The Doctor's office called in the afternoon and asked if I could come in for an ultrasound. "Finally...some answers!" I thought. I knew my feeling of bad news was confirmed when I saw the look on the technician's face. She explained what she was seeing--- she pointed to the dark spots on the ultrasound and said that was blood pooling. Even with that, the severity of the situation didn't register. I remember her asking me when was the last time I ate-- another ominous sign. I remember thinking, how nice of her to check to see if I'm hungry. I still didn't get it. All this, one year ago.

I remember texting George, "Confirmed ectopic, waiting for Doctor." His response was something like "Bummer, you ok?" I didn't have time to respond because the Doctor came in. With each sentence she uttered it landed like a punch to my face, I felt my head recoil with each blow. She confirmed the ectopic and mentioned I would need surgery-- BAM!--first blow. I remember still not getting it- as I was thinking "ok, later in the week looks good for me." But the Doctor continued-- "We can't let you leave, you need surgery immediately. Your fallopian tube has started to rupture resulting in internal bleeding which is causing your back pain--BAM! --second blow-- this is the blow that lead to the lightbulb illuminating-- now I was getting it and the shock started to set in. "There is a possibility you may loose your tube," she said --BAM!!-- final blow. I started to cry-- I remember saying "I would have been better off never getting pregnant." The thing I wanted most happened but quickly became a curse-- all this, one year ago.

While I was being delivered the news, George googled ectopic and realized how serious the situation was-- he was already getting ready to leave work when I called. The Doctor's office was busy trying to get surgery time scheduled and I was left to sit in a room to take it all in. I went into a practical thinking mode: What about the dogs? George will have to stop home and take care of the dogs. Should I ask a neighbor to drive George? Having two cars at the hospital would be inconvenient. I needed to ask George to call my Mom. Guess I should call my boss and let him know I won't be in for awhile. All these things were going through my mind-- I did call my neighbor and ask her to drive George to the hospital, I called my boss to let him know I was going into surgery that night and didn't know when I would be back to work. I called George to update him.

I was then walked over to the hospital for admittance, by this time my back pain progressed making it difficult to stand up straight. There I was by myself waiting for surgery... it was unclear whether George would make it in time and I never felt more alone. I called my friend Chris who dropped everything to come and sit with me--I was so grateful. George also made it with only minutes to spare. The Doctor and Anesthesiologist were walking through the surgery-- a laparoscopy. They explained my abdomen would be filled with gas, they would make to two incisions one on each side and remove my tube. I remember grabbing the Doctor's arm and asking her to back up, pointing out she said I would definitely loose my tube. She paused and said "Yes, remember we talked about this?" I started to tear up and responded "Yes, but I left that conversation thinking there was a bit more hope." I remember looking at George and Chris, Chris was crying as well and George looked grim-- all this, one year ago.

The great thing about laparoscopy is, barring no complications, they send you home to recover once you are conscious. When I awoke, George and Chris came back to recovery. I remember the look on George's face when he saw me. He went pale and had a forced smile, but his eyes were filled with concern. I remember Chris commenting that I had no color. It wasn't until George was helping me get dressed that I caught sight of myself in the mirror and understood his reaction. I was indeed white as a ghost and my face was very swollen-- not looking my best! I was home by 10 that night, with Vicodin and prescription strength Ibuprofen in hand. My recovery took two weeks-- longer than I anticipated but went well overall. One side effect of the laparoscopy is the effect of the gas left behind. Often, not all of the Carbon Dioxide is able to be extracted from the abdomen, the gas left rises and can cause pain throughout the back and shoulders. This happened to me and honestly was the worst pain I ever felt. No amount of painkillers would get rid of it, the pain went up my spine and through my shoulders. When I moved, tears would stream down my face. This only lasted about a day and once over my physical recovery progressed. At the post-operation visit with the Doctor I remember asking her thoughts on why the ectopic got so bad so quick-- typically ectopics become life-threatening at 9 weeks and I was only at 5 1/2. She told me she thought it likely I had more than one fertilized egg in the tube. Ouch...yet one more thing to add to the heartache-- all this, one year ago.

George and I started to see a therapist to help make sense of this event and to help us deal with the emotions of infertility. I remember being surprised at the feeling I wasn't done with trying. But as the months progressed, it became clear this one event caused us to diverge from the path we were on. And when I refer to the "event," I am not just referring to the ectopic-- but everything else that came with it-- the severity of it, the life-threatening nature of it, the shock of it. The resulting path led us to the end of fertility treatments and to the realization that pregnancy isn't in the cards. Life-changing to say the least.

All this, one year ago.






Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Moth or Butterfly?

Lately I've been giving a lot of thought to what it means to survive. In my "about me" sentence at the side of the page, I mention I'm a thirty-something woman struggling to survive the journey of infertility and while true, I'm struck at how profoundly sad that statement is. I mean, who wants to just survive? Who wants to be in a place where the best you can do is go through the motions of life every day-- an empty shell of the person you use to be? That's kind of how I feel-- I'm not living, I'm surviving. I still need to put on a facade, build a protective wall around me and avoid almost all things "pregnant." I'm still mending, scar tissue continues to form over my wounds and as with the physical scars I've gained during this journey, I'll have these emotional scars forever. They're my battle wounds, each has a different story to tell.

Our experiences make us who we are and who we become. It remains to be seen the impact the last three years will have on the totality of my life. I feel like I'm in a cocoon waiting to emerge. How will I emerge? As a moth or butterfly? If I continue to "just survive" I will be on the moth track. However, if the last three years result in my becoming stronger... wiser... even an eventual better parent... if I don't allow the last three years to take away from who I am, rather add to who I am... if a persevere... if I overcome, that may put me on the butterfly track-- a beautiful, majestic butterfly at that.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Remembrances of Infertility: Miscarraige #2 March 2009

When we finally started trying again after the first miscarriage the biggest problem I thought we've have is controlling our fear of miscarriage when I got pregnant again-- which surely would happen in short order. But that didn't happen and when it didn't, my OB/GYN suggested we go to a specialist. We had been going to see an infertility specialist for a couple of months-- most of that time was focused on a diagnosis, which of course there was none. I fell into the category of "unexplained infertility." I had just completed the Clomide challenge and we decided to take advantage of the Clomide and try our first IUI, which failed. To further the frustration we could not do another cycle right away because I had a cyst on my ovary. With that, George and I decided to give it a whirl naturally...and it worked... I was pregnant. I remember taking a pregnancy test early and initially not seeing a double line. Later when I looked I saw a very faint line. I took another, this time the line was not as faint but still questionable. I wasn't messing around with the third test, I went digital this time and when the hour glass finished I saw the words "pregnant." I was excited, scared, apprehensive and above all cautious. I remember thinking what great timing-- we hadn't yet invested a lot of money, time and emotion into fertility treatments. My Doctor mentioned it was not uncommon for the effects of Clomide to linger and likely assisted in my getting pregnant. George was thrilled, immediately starting "Googling" daycares-- which is interesting, as I am the planner in the family, the one that looks ahead-- and here he was planning for something a year out. He wanted to tell his Mom and Dad-- I hesitated...I asked if we could wait until we saw the heartbeat. I wanted to wait until we made it at least that far. I remember driving to a blood draw appointment and telling George that I didn't "feel" pregnant and how that concerned me-- George admonished me for not being positive. I responded this wasn't about being positive, this was about how I was feeling. As it turned out, my intuition was correct. My HCG levels were no longer increasing. The whole "pregnancy" lasted all of 10 days or so, but that didn't lessen the heartache. With that news all I had to do was wait for the miscarriage-- which came about a week later. If I am going to compare miscarriages, the first would be in the devastating category, this one was a step or two below. Was it that I was more prepared? I don't know. I think with the first I felt like I had been to hell and back emotionally speaking-- it truly was the shattering of innocence. This was something less that that. What dealt me a deeper blow was when I returned to work to discover a co-worker was pregnant-- her first. That started an emotional tailspin for me. I started asking all those useless questions: Why her? Why not me? I remember thinking I take better care of myself than her, I'm healthier, I'm more fit, I'm thinner-- all the things that really don't mean a hell of a whole lot-- I mean drug addicts get pregnant and can carry a baby to term-- certainly my body is a better suited? Bottomline is when your body betrays you, you look for the why. Unfortunately, the why often remains elusive--a lesson I would continue to be challenged with in my third and fourth failed pregnancies.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Finality

I walked through my doctor's door for the last time today. I needed one last follow-up ultrasound to make sure everything was OK-- which it was-- ovaries all clear of cysts. I then met with the nurse for the last time-- Lisa was with me through my whole year of hell. I knew I was likely to get emotional when I saw her, which of course I did. For one last time the doctor's office witnessed my tears. We talked about why I was crying and much of it had to do with the finality of the visit, of letting go of what I hoped and wanted. I so desperately wanted to have an experience resulting in joy and happiness, instead my experience resulted in pain and anguish. It doesn't help that every other week it seems I find out some one else I know is pregnant and no matter how happy I am for them, it still hurts. It still is a slap in the face, still a reminder of something that'll never happen for me. Lisa did tell me something I needed to hear, she said "You have such amazing strength, you took every punch that came your way and didn't falter. I know that something good is waiting for you around the corner, I can feel it." God, I hope she's right.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Remembrances of Infertility: Miscarriage #1 September 2007

The Shattering of Innocence

I remember getting a positive pregnancy test.

I remember my hands shaking (shaking from excitement and anxiety) when I found out.

I remember telling George, I remember him exclaiming "My boys can swim!"

I remember my Mom crying with happiness when I told her.

I remember my Dad saying "So my little girl is going to be a Mom!"

I remember getting my ultrasound at 7+ weeks.

I remember the look on the technician's face and though she couldn't tell me, I knew...

I remember crying.

I remember the doctor saying things like: "I'm sorry." "Your pregnancy isn't viable. " "It was nothing you did..."

I remember crying.

I remember checking into the hospital for the D&C.

I remember being uncertain how to answer the "Are you pregnant?" question.

I remember the hospital form's signature line for disposal of the "remains" stated "Mother's signature."

I remember crying.

I remember the pain.

Monday, April 12, 2010

In-laws

It has always bothered me my in-laws had not directly checked in on me during my year of hell--particularly after ectopic #1. Of course this speaks to the bigger issue of my relationship (or lack there of ) with them. Further, I felt they weren't being provided adequate information about our "situation." I overheard my husband talking with them on the phone a few weeks back and could immediately tell when he was asked a question related to our infertility-- his demeanor completely changed, he tensed and relayed one worded answers. As of late, I've found it important that certain friends and families, especially those we may rely on for support, have information. Not necessarily all the gory details, but enough information so they could maybe, just maybe, begin to understand where we are coming from. After talking with my husband about his reaction, I realized he simply wasn't ready or able to have the conversation I needed him to have with his parents.

When relaying my frustrations to a friend, she asked: "Well, have you tried calling them?" My response: speechless and intrigue. I call THEM? I reach out to THEM? So blatantly obvious and yet, such a novel concept. So I did. I called them, well not them so much as her: my mother-in-law. After conferring with George, I made the call. We talked for nearly an hour and it was a good conversation. She relayed to me she would always ask how I was doing when talking to George but always felt she couldn't ask to talk to me directly because he seemed to put up a wall as if he was protecting me from her. I told her I thought he was attempting to protect us from each other. He didn't want her to say something to upset me and didn't want her to experience my raw emotion. His need to do this doesn't come from a bad place, it's just what he does and illustrates the differences between our families. My family: throw everything out on the table and deal. His family: ignore and avoid.

At any rate, it was a good conversation and it ended with my telling her to feel free to call me directly any time to chat-- we'll see if she takes me up on it.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Processing

Over the past month, my emotions have run the gamut and as of late I've been feeling a bit stuck. In February we had a "regroup" appointment with my Doctor. In one word I would describe the meeting as sobering. Of course I knew going in she wasn't going to suggest we continue to go forward with IUIs -- but to hear her talk of my extreme high risk of ectopic pregnancy even if we were to get pregnant on our own was a punch in the stomach. I became comfortable blaming the fertility drugs for the ectopics, telling myself this wouldn't happen if we got pregnant on our own-- in a way I needed to believe that so I good hold on to that tiny morsel of hope. She went on and walked us through the IVF option. I found myself getting excited and actually considering it, my husband on the other hand completely shut down. He didn't want to hear it-- he was done with fertility treatments. I certainly wasn't saying "Let's do it." But, we are down to 2 options-- adoption and IVF and I really need to be sure we pick the right path. Over the past couple of weeks I have had some time to examine my feelings and try to figure out why the idea of IVF appealed to me, when it never had in the past. The obvious answer is in the past, I had options-- now the only option I have for pregnancy is IVF. Sure that's a part of it, but I knew there was something more-- what was I trying to hold on to? The simple answer to that is I'm having trouble letting go of this desire to experience a pregnancy. It's like a primal need I'm instinctively searching to fill. How does that go away? Frankly, I don't think it ever will and how do I deal with that in a way that allows me to move forward?

Today, I can honestly say the IVF option isn't all that exciting to me. I cannot risk having a year remotely similar to the one I just survived-- and I don't just mean the loss of three pregnancies. I mean all that goes with fertility treatments: the shots, the doctors appointments, living my life by my cycle, the impact of the hormones, etc.

After talking to a friend of mine last week, who recently adopted, she reminded me the primal need I'm feeling will not go away completely and waiting for it to disappear before moving forward wasn't realistic--however, once I have a baby in my arms that is what will matter and frankly that was the gentle push I needed. George and I will begin our way down the adoption path-- proceeding at our own pace. We'll start talking to adoption agencies and doing some basic research and see where that takes us.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Bald Face Liar, The Truth.

1. Swam with Sharks. True.
Granted they were the more docile Black Tip Reef sharks...stingrays were also present. What's a Tahitian honeymoon without a shark swim thrown in?






2. Hung out with wild animals on the Capitol Hill. True.

No I'm not talking about the politicians, though in that sense it is also true. During my time on the Hill Jack Hanna came with some of his animals to promote conservation. Drinks and appetizers with a lynx, condor and lemur just to name a few.







3. Drank with Ray Liotta and Peter Buck in Seattle bars. True, sort of and not at the same time. Really it was drank near Ray Liotta and Peter Buck. Ray Liotta was in Seattle filming a movie and he passed a friend of mine and I on the street. We tracked (stalked) him to a bar, where we met and got a photo with him. Peter Buck's (REM) wife (ex-wife now?) owned the Seattle's famed Crocodile Cafe, where many grunge bands got their start. Peter Buck would frequent the Cafe both as patron and owner.



4. Stranded in the Colorado Wilderness. True. My husband and I went off-roading and attempted to go over Tin Cup Pass in the Sawatch Mountains. Though it was early October, there was already quite a bit of snow-- the Jeep got stuck near the top of the pass where it nearly slide off the road (and down the mountain). With our dogs, we had to walk 7 miles through knee deep snow--completely unprepared for the conditions we were in-- to the nearest town, St. Elmos which is a ghost town. While walking, we couldn't help but notice the various large scat (never imagined I use the word "scat" in my blog) scattered about. While I have never actually seen the excrement of a bear or a mountain lion--- I knew what I was seeing at the time was the scat of a a large wilderness dwelling animal! It was well into the night by the time we made it to St. Elmos and we luckily found someone that actually lived there year round . He made a few phone calls to a tow company and hotel on our behalf and drove us 11 miles to Mt. Princeton, where we stayed the night. God Bless the good Samaritan. The folks at the hotel had the restaurant stay open for us and even cooked the dogs some dinner. The next day after several hours and several hundred dollars, we were able to get the Jeep off the pass and we headed home.


5. Back up Dancer for Chris Issak- True. My husband and I saw Chris Isaak in Atlantic City a few years back and as part of the show a handful of women from the audience are brought on stage to hang out on stage with Chris and the band and groove to a tune.



6. Acting Debut in Michael Moore's Roger & Me- True. Though exaggerated and since it was a Documentary, it wasn't really an acting debut and I didn't really know I was in it until it was out. In High School I was in choir and the choir was invited to sing at the GM's executive Christmas Party. Michael Moore was there filming. Really I was only on screen for mere seconds and was mortified.



7. Climbed Mt. Rainier-- Lie. Though this is on my list of things I would love to do.








Bald Face Liar, Maybe



1. Thank the person who gave this to you. (Thanks for the nomination Chris)
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you.
4. Tell up to six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least one outrageous truth - or - switch it around and tell six outrageous truths and one outrageous lie.
5. Nominate seven "Creative Writers" who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies.
6. Post links to the seven blogs you nominate.
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them.

Truth or Lies?? Details to soon come.

1. Swam with sharks.


















2. Hung out with wild animals on DC's Capitol Hill.






3. Drank with Ray Liotta and Peter Buck (REM) in Seattle Bars.




4. Got stranded in the Colorado Wilderness.


5. Danced for Chris Isaak.



6. Made my acting debut in Michael Moore's 1989 Roger & Me


7. Climbed Mt. Rainier



As for nominations... well, since I am new to the blogging community, I don't even know seven bloggers to nominate!

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Inspirational Quote of the Day

A friend of mine sent this to me and I thought I'd share (Thanks Chris!)

"Strength does not come from winning.Your struggles develop your strength.When you go through hardship and decide not to surrender, that is strength."

Amen!

Top 10 irritating things to say to a woman going through infertility:

10. It COULD be worse...
9. At least you have a spouse...
8. You just need to relax and it'll happen...
7. If my husband just looks at me I get pregnant.
6. After the loss of a preganancy: It wasn't meant to be, but I'm sure it'll happen soon.
5. Why don't you just adopt?
4. Parenting is really tough work anyhow...
3. I know how you feel, it took us 3 months to get pregnant.
2. I'm pregnant!!!!

and #1 (drum roll please....)

1. At least you know you can get pregnant!

Monday, February 15, 2010

Happy Birthday to me!

Wow, time flies. Didn't quite realize it had been so long since the last post. During me time away I found out my HCG levels are continuing to decline (last week they were 38) and I turned another year older...39. I can't say the latter was a celebrated event. I anticipated being in a much different place than where I currently am. Last year at this time I was only a couple of months into pursuing fertility treatment. I had hope. I had been scarred by only one miscarriage. I had no idea what grief I was in store for in the coming months.

I've been chewing on something from my last therapist appointment. I mentioned my frustration at the feelings of desperation I was experiencing. I described I was feeling almost manic, wild-eyed at my need to hold onto some hope or illusion that pregnancy will happen for me. I was angry and frustrated at myself for this, I want to be able to move forward and these feelings of desperation postpone it. I relate desperation to weakness. I want to be able to move forward and accept my fate with strength...with grace (if that's possible). My therapist asked one question that has stuck with me... "Where is your compassion for yourself?" My response: "Huh? Compassion for myself? Why would I have compassion for myself?" Frankly, it never occurred to me to allow it. I'm much better at beating myself up, that's what I know....I'm not sure I know how to have compassion for myself. But it's something I probably should work on because I know I won't be able to close this chapter until I do.

I had my consultation and Mayan Massage today. I walked out of there feeling good, as if my body said "this is what I've been waiting for." I don't know if I'm completely buying into all of it at this point or if anything will come of it, but on the surface it makes some sense to me that your body can become out of whack over time and if at the very least this experience can provide me with some tools to assist in my search of peace, then what the heck.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Slow progress but progress nonetheless...

Last week I received another bit of good news in that my levels continue to go down, albeit slowly. It would appear I am out of the woods. Additionally I was given the green light to partake in alcoholic beverages. That night George and I toasted to the milestone, one beer later I was ready for bed! Slowly but surely I am returning to some normalcy.

Admittedly my emotions are all over the board-- while I am looking forward to not living my life based on what day it is in my cycle there is sadness in the finality of ending the fertility treatments and of letting hope of a successful pregnancy go. I don't know if I will be able to let go of the latter. I think I will always cling to at least a little bit of hope that it'll work out-- some day. Unfortunately at this point I think I'm clinging to desperation rather than hope-- not enough time has passed to let that transition occur. My therapist mentioned writing a letter of goodbye to our biological child--- besides the obvious feelings of grief and sadness this thought brings me, I am also terrified. Terrified first, to even go though--- the pure anguish this exercise would cause makes me want to avoid it at all cost. Terrified second, because I don't know if I'm ready to say goodbye, or ready to stop trying (key the desperation). This is tough to make sense of, not even sure I can. When I say I'm not ready to stop trying, I don't mean fertility treatments--- I am done with that-- but I can't help but think I've had natural pregnancies where the egg implanted where it was suppose to....sure it miscarried, but it traveled from the tube to the uterus. Or are all these feelings of "not done trying" merely a method of self protection in order to avoid the letter writing exercise. Regardless, I clearly have a way to go before I am ready to move on.

On a recommendation of a friend, I have decided to try Mayan Massage. The premise here is for a variety of reasons, a woman's uterus can sometimes fall out of position a bit causing an array of issues-- PMS, miscarriages, infertility, blood circulation issues (varicose and spider veins), digestive issues etc. Often the woman is told "you're uterus is tipped, but you have nothing to worry about." Well, I'm one of those women that have been told such and am curious to learn more. The Mayan Massage works to get your organs back in line so to speak thus improving some of the issues listed above. I certainly don't have the expectation that all my infertility issues will be resolved, but I also have nothing to lose at this point-- at a minimum I receive a relaxing massage and if something else comes of it, such as PMS relief, bonus!

Friday, January 22, 2010

399!

Finally, a bit of good news--my levels dropped dramatically to 399. A month ago I was rooting for increasing hcg levels. Now nothing would make me happier to have them in the negative. Hopefully the trend will continue.

With my mind put at ease a bit, the reality of our situation hit me the other day. George and I will not have biological children. Wow. I need to repeat that-- George and I will NOT have biological children. That notion smacked me in the face and I suddenly felt profound sadness. Of course I knew that was the direction we were headed, but I guess I haven't really dealt with it yet.

In my previous posts I don't think I mentioned this second ectopic ends our journey to get pregnant. We will not be pursuing anymore fertility treatments-- we are finished. This wasn't an impulse decision by any means. I nearly had an emotional breakdown in the fall which told me I was done. The impact of the first ectopic was mammoth-- it shook us to the core. The shock of it, the severity of it, the confrontation with my own mortality--- this is huge life stuff. So when I started the next round of IUIs with injectables this past October I wasn't ready to go through it again-- I was, however, ready to be done. I agreed to continue the IUIs so I wouldn't wonder what if, so I could comfortably check the box and know we tried. Ensuring I could check the box is critical for me to be able to close this horrible chapter. This second ectopic was the 2nd of 3 IUIs. Even if I wanted to pursue the last, I don't think my doctor would be on board.

The road ahead will not be easy, George and I have some tough stuff to work through before we can begin the next chapter. But knowing the current chapter is coming to a conclusion we are also feeling something we haven't felt in a long time: relief.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Fun with Methotrexate

As Infertility delivered her message to me Friday reminding me I am still under her thumb. My message back to her is "Screw you...you will not break me." I may be kept down a couple of days, but you will not break me! After finding out one dose of methotrexate was ineffective, there was a bit of good news yesterday. My ultrasound looked OK-- meaning they didn't see anything that would make them think I needed immediate surgery. My remaining tube is safe for now. I received my second dose of methotrexate this morning and am already starting to feel its effect. I'm hoping it won't be any worse than the previous dose when the side effects weren't exactly fun, but at least were manageable. For the next week and a half I will be on this Groundhog's Day loop of sorts. As with the previous dose my first draw in four days will likely see my levels rise, as is common after the initial dose, then a few days later my levels will likely decrease a bit, as they did previously. The third blood draw will be the first indicator to me whether the second does is more effective than than the first. Though I won't really feel safe until my levels consistently decrease and this drama is over with.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

So you think you're getting your power back?

Yesterday I mentioned I was starting to take a couple of small steps in hopes of regaining my power. Well apparently that prompted Infertility to deliver me a smack down with the message "You're still my bitch." I found out last night the methotrexate isn't working. My levels are rising. So what does that mean? Well, I'm on my way to the Doc's for an ultrasound and another blood draw-- if things are stable, I will likely opt for another dose. If things look worse, then I'll have to go in for surgery resulting in the removal of my remaining tube. By the way, methotrexate works in 85% of all cases, naturally I fell into the 15% group. Five percent of that 15% find that methotrexate isn't effective at all and eventually need surgery. We'll find out out which category I will fall into...

Friday, January 15, 2010

The Emotions of Infertility

The emotions one feels when going through any type of fertility issue is vast and complex. On any given day I can feel grief, disappointment, shame, anger, resentment, sorrow all at the same time. Sorting through that can be tough if not impossible. Two emotions I want to focus on for this post are shame and anger.

Shame.
I first recognized this when we started to see a fertility specialist. I remember telling a friend I was feeling this way and I thought her head was going to explode. "What????" she exclaimed.
"You have NOTHING to be ashamed about." She, too, had gone through her own infertility issues. Later she told me when she thought about it, she realized she, too, had feelings of shame--- she just wasn't self-aware enough to recognize it at the time. Intellectually I know I have nothing to be ashamed about--- but here I am still experiencing feelings of shame. I suppose the shame comes from the notion that every woman, should she so choose, can have a baby. For most women it works that way, they decide, they get pregnant, they have a baby. On the surface it seems like something simple, something every woman should be able to do-- so when you can't you're left thinking; What's wrong with me? Why can't I succeed at this? Teenage girls can do this, drug addicts can do this, women "accidentally" do this all the time. Not me... I can't do it. The fact is it's really amazing anyone gives birth at all--- I mean all conditions have to be just right for an egg to be fertilized, implanted and successfully become a bouncing baby. I have no answer on how to best deal with this emotion, I suppose it is different for everyone. I still have these feelings of shame, I know this because of how I felt when I found out strangers and friends were being told of my latest "event." I know this because of the trepidation I felt starting a blog and the thought of people I know reading it. My first post on this blog mentioned there was some comfort in anonymity. What a difference a month makes. I refuse to feel shame anymore. Shame has helped infertility control my life. Fuck that. I'm taking my power back. I will not hide my infertility issue like it is some dirty little secret. A first step in helping me to accomplish this will be not to hide my blog-- I may not put it on my Facebook page, at least not yet, but I will start letting friends and certain family members of its existence.

Anger
I like this emotion. That might make me sound a bit off, but it helps me feel powerful. Yes, I'm angry. I'm pissed off. I'm pissed off that this is happening to me. I'm pissed off that we can't seem to catch a break. I'm pissed off that half of my office is fucking pregnant. I'm pissed off that half my friends are pregnant. I'm pissed off that twice this past week I was asked at work "when are you going to get pregnant? There must be something in the water in your office. Ha ha." I'm pissed off that teenage girls, drug addicts, and women who don't want it, get pregnant. I'm pissed off that I've had 2 miscarriages and 2 ectopic pregnancies. I'm so pissed off I say--"Fuck You Infertility." Sometimes I think you have to get angry to get your power back and that's where I'm at-- I'll let you know if it is successful.

In coping with these and other emotions, I've found myself connecting to various songs that either speak to an emotion that I'm feeling or motivates me to tap my foot thereby releasing me from the emotion that I'm feeling, even if for a minute. One song that accomplishes both is "Bloody November" by oh my stars. The song's first line is: "You say I'm angry, yeah pretty much but be glad I'm not all exploding all up in your guts cause I could..." Of course as I write this I realize this might make me seem a bit too angry and perhaps a bit psychotic--but in all seriousness, it is a good song-- one that I definitely tap my foot to and quite honestly sometimes I do feel that angry. I would love to scream that line at infertility.


Thursday, January 14, 2010

Answers

It's been three weeks since my last post. Three weeks of hell, three weeks of sorrow, three weeks of heartbreak. Let's go back to Christmas Eve, my HCG levels go from 10 to 40-- two days later they nearly triple, another two days double, ditto in another two days. During this whole time I'm still bleeding and extremely stressed out. Not knowing the viable/ not viable answer was killing me-- I had a knot in my shoulder the size of Rhode Island. I insisted on a ultrasound on Dec 26th-- I knew they wouldn't be able to see a sac, but I wanted to see if they could tell me what the bleeding was all about. I was told my uterus lining looked thin-- not something you would see in a "normal" pregnancy. I walked out of there thinking at least I had an answer-- later they called to tell me my hcg levels were rising and further the Doctor on call didn't feel we could rule out viable pregnancy--- what? So I was back to having no answers-- great.

On December 30th I again went in for another blood draw and ultrasound, this time to my doctor office (rather than the weekend office). Later that afternoon, I found out my levels were continuing to rise, but my doctor felt the pregnancy wasn't viable. Despite having been told my levels were rising appropriately, I found out that, yes, my uterus lining was too thin for a pregnancy and my levels should be higher for where I was at in my pregnancy. Information that would have been helpful to know throughout this process. I appreciate the nurses trying to give me hope by telling me that many women bleed in their first trimester, etc. However, I think I would have been better served by a more guarded/ realistic consultation. I mean afterall, this was my 4th pregnancy-- none of which have been successful, so I think I know a "not viable" pregnancy when I see it. But at least I finally had an answer--sure it wasn't the answer I wanted andquestions remained...but I could cross viable pregnancy off the list. So George and I brought in the new year mourning the inevitable loss of my 4th pregnancy and at the same time flipping off 2009: the worst year of my life with 3 failed pregnancies.

So we knew it was bad, but how bad? I felt this very well could end up as another ectopic-- I mean my bleeding pattern was identical to the previous ectopic, though less severe and my hcg levels were continuing to rise. January 2nd 3 a.m.-- I awoke to discomfort in my abdomen and back-- I laid in bed for an hour debating what to do. I woke my husband and called the Doctor on call. I think what I needed was to be talked off the cliff, instead the Doc pushed me off--telling me to go to the ER. I knew I wasn't emergent but I couldn't risk losing my remaining tube. So off to the ER we went where they confirmed ectopic. The good news is that my tube didn't appear to be rupturing. The Doc on call came in (five hours after we arrived) and offered 3 options: 1) Do nothing (huh? like that's an option) 2) Surgery-- no guarantee of saving tube and 3) Methotrexate injection (a chemo drug used to treat certain cancers). I chose the methotrexate option. The Doc then proceeds to tell me "you know...after you had the first ectopic, your chances of having a second went up 15%" "Yes, yes I know that" I responded. He continues-- "so, now that you've had 2, your chances of having a 3rd are 30%." "Yup. Knew that one as well." "so, yeah, I might not do anymore IUIs..." he says. Gee, you think???? And is this seriously the right time to discuss this?? Can I just get through this current crisis first????? WTF. I finally get the shot and the best part? I make my massage appointment. May not sound like a whole lot or appropriate--but this massage was the only thing I was looking forward to for 2 weeks. 80 minute deep tissue and boy did I need it.

The downside to the methotrexate is: this isn't over. I continue to wait. I continue to tread water unable to move forward. Side effects to the drug have been manageable-- nausea, fatigue, general blah. Just this week a less common side effect emerged: acne. Again, WTF. Acne? Are you fucking serious? I feel like a pre-pubescent teen-- if only my reproductive system was that of a pimply teen. Another downside to the drug is no alcohol. Talk about a time when I need a damn drink and I can't have one. Nor have I been told when I can expect to be able to have one. This process could take another month--another month of treading water.