For what it's worth...

Adoption isn't something I decided to do because of my infertility issues.

I have always wanted to adopt.

From a very young age...I dreamt of adopting.

It was actually having children that I wasn't so sure I wanted to do.

In my idealistic teenage years and even throughout my early twenties, I was known to say things like:

"Having biological children is selfish when there are so many children out there that need a loving home."

"Why bring more children into this world..."

For what it's worth I was a fucking idiot!

Those sentiments were declared by someone who thought they had a choice...

Ahhh what power there is in choice...

And even though I declared those things perched on top of my high horse I always pictured myself pregnant and having children.

I dreamed of one big melded family of love...

I still dream of that but just like the other part of the dream that I had to let go of...you know that part that included the man of my dreams in this big, melded, crazy family of love...I must now release the part about having a baby...

It is not going to happen...

Because after 3 1/2 years, 13 cycles and over $50,000 trying to have a baby...I have come out empty handed or should I say empty "wombed"!

So what was it worth?

What have the last 3 1/2 years of my life been worth?

For what it's worth thinking about my adoption fills my soul with light. But it will always do that...

And I do not think of it as 2nd best...I know I will love my child more than life itself...I know that I will love them as ferociously as any mother could...because I already do...

But in the same breath thinking about never having a successful pregnancy, about never carrying a baby, never giving birth takes away a part of me that can never be replaced.  I will never be the same. I will always carry this sadness...

Why? Why can't I be the type of person who doesn't care one way or the other.

Why is this loss trumping everything else?

Because it is not my choice...

So what has all this been worth...

After every failed cycle I would take the picture of my embryos, you know the one they give you on transfer day and I would write something on it...something to my potential babies that didn't make it.

I would write something like:

"I love you more than you will ever know. I wish you could have stayed with me...Love Mom"

And I would put those pictures in my dragonfly keepsake box that I keep hidden away in my closet.

The dragonfly keepsake box I bought  as a little memorial after my first miscarriage.

The box that I put my pregnancy tests and a pregnancy journal in...

A journal whose purpose was to capture all the amazing milestones of my pregnancy but instead captured my despair as I lost my baby.

When I got pregnant the second time I was so certain that this was it...I took a pregnancy test every day until my beta watching with pure joy as that beautiful line grew darker and darker.

Those too now rest in my dragonfly keepsake box.

This time last year I was devastated over my 2nd miscarriage...

I have spent the last year doing cycle after cycle trying to get pregnant again...and I can't...and I don't know why...

It would only take a couple of days after one of my numerous transfers before I would know that it didn't work...I would know I wasn't pregnant...and I would write my little note to my precious embryos and tuck them away in that little box in my closet.

Except after this last (my final) cycle...I wasn't sure after a couple of days...and then a couple more days past and I knew...I knew I was pregnant.

I took a test...there was a line...faint but definitely a line...the next day I took another test...expecting the line to be darker...it wasn't...and my beta came back too low...too low to be a viable pregnancy...it's a chemical pregnancy...another lost baby...

I was pregnant for a day...for one day I was beyond happy...it's not enough...

I took the pictures of my beautiful embryos, wrote a little note telling them how much I wish that we could be together and put them along with my pregnancy test with that faint little line on it into my dragonfly box and tucked it away in my closet...

It's over...

My last cycle...

3 1/2 years...13 cycles...2 1/2 pregnancies...no baby...

So what has it all been worth?

The $50,000 I've spent?

The 35 extra pounds I've gained?

The endless nights of crying?

The over 500 shots I have given myself?

Or the keepsake box in my closet filled with pictures of embryos and positive pregnancy tests that never resulted in a baby...

Another Beautiful Name...

There was this huge post on Facebook quoting Morgan Freeman basically stating that the glorification of murders in our media is part of the problem.

Morgan Freeman denied making that quote...

But it really doesn't matter whether he made the quote or not...there IS a point in that quote.

I DO know the names of the Columbine killers...I don't know one victim's name...

I know the names of:

Son of Sam; David Berkowitcz

Ted Bundy

John Wayne Gacy

Timothy McVeigh

etc...etc...ect...ect...

I don't know the names of their victims...not one name....

Dyke in the Heart of Texas is challenging us to remember one of those lost, just one,  instead of the name of the person who took their life away.

"It is about the FACT that I am going to erase the killer’s name in Newtown, CT. from my memory. It is also a FACT that I am going to remember forever another name, that of one of the victims.

As I read online this morning, the list of victims in the shooting in Newtown, I closed my eyes and made a vow. I was going to pick one of the victims and remember them…truly remember that they existed on this earth…for the rest of my existence on this earth." ~ Dyke in the Heart of Texas

I am vowing to do the same.

I think it's the least we can do...remember the beautiful lives lost and banish the name of the evil that took them...

Painfully I went online and looked at the list of the victims...my heart aches...and I saw her...I took a deep breath and I said:

"I promise I will remember you!"

Catherine Violet Hubbard

Her name is Catherine Violet Hubbard.

I don't know much about Catherine Violet Hubbard...I did  not know her...

But I do know that she was a beautiful, vibrant little girl full of life...

I don't know much about Catherine Violet Hubbard but I do know...she was taken from this world much too soon...

May God hold you in the palm of his hand Catherine Violet Hubbard...

And I promise that I will remember your name!

**UPDATE**
Catherine Violet Hubbard was laid to rest today. 12/20/2012

Click here to read her Obituary.

I learned to today that she had a passion for animals and in lieu of flowers her parents asked for donations to an animal shelter: Newtown Animal Center, PO Box 475, Newtown CT 06470 or you can donate online.

It was Catherine's beautiful smile that made me feel a connection with her. In her Obituary her parents wrote that she will be remembered for her: "constant smile".

It is what I will remember...along with her name...Rest in Peace Catherine Violet Hubbard.

God's Plan - Part IV

"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of 'disaster,' I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers - so many caring people in this world." - Fred Rogers

GUNS DO NOT KILL PEOPLE. PEOPLE KILL PEOPLE -

If I read this one more time I might kill someone myself...

Okay just kidding but I might give them a big V-8 smack in the forehead.

Making this comment is like saying that a bear shits in the woods...

YES!! YES!! WE ALL KNOW THIS!! WE ARE NOT FUCKING IDIOTS!

But that doesn't mean we put the weapons in their hands.

That doesn't mean we don't try to stop it.

That doesn't mean we don't try...

If that is the case then why not get rid of the army, the police...

It doesn't mean we don't try to stop it...

It doesn't mean we don't try...

It doesn't mean we don't try...

It doesn't mean we don't try...

Otherwise evil always wins and innocent people and our beautiful babies die....

God's Plan - Part III

20 Children Died in Newtown, Conn., School Massacre

There is no reason...

There is no comprehension...

All one can do is hang their head and cry...

But the lingering question will always remain...

Why God? Why?

What is in a name...

I could barely feel his weight as I carried him on my hip. He's so small and pudgy. But I could feel his tiny hand on my shoulder as he held on to me.

He's wearing a dark blue, puffy snowsuit with the hood pulled over his head. And on that precious head he is donning a light blue, knitted winter hat.

His cheeks are chubby and round. His eyes are big, brown and almond shaped. His skin is golden tan and his lips are full and pursed.

His hood and hat have fallen down over his eyes so he can barely see. I carefully pull both garments  back over his head, exposing his beautiful face. I brush his cheeks and lovingly pinch them with my fingers. I turn with my face smiling brightly and declare to an unknown audience...

"Everyone this is Samuel."

And then I snap awake!

I wake up!

The room is still dark and I whisper his name...

Samuel

It was almost like it echoed...

Samuel

And then I heard it again...like ghost...it was me saying it but my lips weren't moving...

"Everyone this is Samuel"

I rested my head back down on my pillow and tried to find that dream again.

I haven't dreamt of my child in so long.

All my dreams and visions have been fading away just outside my reach.

And now a dream. A beautiful dream about Samuel.

I looked up the name:

Samuel's mother was Hannah and his father was Elkanah . Hannah, at the beginning of the narrative, is barren and childless.... Hannah prays to God for a child...

Hannah named Samuel in memory of her requesting a child from God and God listening. Samuel is translated as Heard of God or possibly as a sentence "God has heard"

Samuel...it's a name I've never considered.

Of course I've picked names.

Don't we all.

And I'm not that type of person who won't tell people the names I've picked.

I am not afraid of someone "stealing" my names.

I could care less!

I am going to name my child whatever I want regardless if someone else uses it.

I have a list of names and for boys Samuel wasn't on the list.

For boys I have:

Nathaniel Edwin (Edwin is my grandfather's name) and Nathaniel means "God has given"

And Shane Edwin.

Shane means "God is Gracious"

I don't feel this need to guard these names like they are sacred.

But now...now I feel like I've been given a sacred name.

If I do have a little boy, I feel compelled to name him Samuel.

Samuel Edwin...

"God has heard"

And I can only pray that this is true...

It is no secret that I am struggling.

Struggling with my faith.

Struggling with my belief in God.

Struggling with "He is" over  "He is not".

Knowing that "He is not" hurts less.

But I heard him whisper his name.

I declared his name.

Samuel

The name of a prophet. The name of the little boy who could speak to God.

Samuel...

I guess there is nothing I can do right now but pray.

Pray that this is somehow a message letting me know that God is there and he hears...

And someday I can turn with my face smiling bright and declare:

"Everyone this is Samuel..."

This used to be my playground...

It's no secret that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

I call it the four Fs - Family, Fun, Football and Food!

There's nothing else you need to do but to be grateful for all that you have and enjoy all that you have.

Being my favorite holiday, in the past, it meant that I would partake in the evening before Thanksgiving ritual of partying your ass off!

Yes, that is what you did...you went out Wednesday night, met all of your friends at the bar, got ridiculously drunk and the next day on Thanksgiving you were thankful you had all that food and drink to get you through the day...and you rejoiced! Whooooooo!

And there was this one memorable Thanksgiving Eve when Sio puked in my sock drawer because he was so wasted he actually believed he was in the bathroom.

Classy right! (What a bunch of idiots!)

Fun right!! ( I am being sarcastic here!)

At  Christmas that year, every gift I opened was a pack of socks...well at least my family has a sense of humor.  And I am thankful for that! And for them...

And as I celebrated my favorite holiday and being grateful, to be honest I would get mad at the "complainers" on Thanksgiving.

I remember one year a friend of mine was spending too much time wallowing in what she didn't have and I ended up getting on my soapbox and giving her the "Be grateful speech".

You know the speech! You get it all the time as an Infertile.

"It could be worse"

"Be thankful for what you have"

All that crap that just pisses me off now!

The worthless platitudes of trying to "put things into perspective" instead of acknowledging ones pain..

Something I really don't do anymore...getting on my soapbox or giving the "Life could be worse...be thankful...you could be starving with one leg" crappy speech that does nothing...

I think that's why this post pisses me off so much!!

THANKFUL, GRATEFUL, ABUNDANT.

Really to be honest I was just going to let it go...I have my own gratitude for what I have...I am thankful everyday not just one day of the year but for some reason this brings out the: "Are you fucking kidding me!" in me...

This shit is only spoken by someone pregnant!

It's kinda worse than a fertile telling you to relax!

To me it doesn't make any sense to be thankful for something that is still hurting so many others.

It's like saying you are thankful that a mass shooting happened because you survived and you are a better person now.

What about all those that didn't survive?

It makes no sense...you might be thankful you survived but to be thankful for the event or the disease???

Could you imagine writing a post about being thankful for the shooting at the Batman movie because it made you a better person??

WTF!

Maybe write that you are thankful that this experience didn't destroy you, that this experience has showed you your strength...

I just find it so insulting, disrespectful and demeaning to those who haven't survived...

It's like being thankful for war!

I could go on and on...

And then she says: "I wouldn't take it back"...what a load of crap.

What a selfish, self important statement!

I would take it back in a heartbeat! Why! Because if I could make it so there wasn't such a thing as Infertility...

If I could make it so no one had to suffer like this...you're damn right I would take it back!

And not indulge in my "Look at me....I made it through...I am such a better person now..."

"Oh and I'm fucking pregnant!"

What a sanctimonious post that could only be written by someone who is no longer struggling...

Because guess what...if you were still Infertile I can guarantee you this:

You wouldn't  be thankful for it!

If you were still Infertile, yes, you would be still be talking about all the things you are grateful for like the post she quotes that she wrote the year before and guess what  Infertility isn't one of them!

Oh in that post a year ago I didn't read any "I am thankful for my Infertility" bullshit...why because you were still Infertile!!

"I wish I could reach through my screen and time and tell November 2011 Keiko: “It’ll be different next year..."

Hmmm...really!!

How touching...how heartfelt...what self stroking CRAP!!

Hey I wish I could reach through time and space and tell the me of a year ago...the  me who just had a D&C a few days before Thanksgiving...I wish I could shake her and tell her: "Wake the fuck up!! It's not going to happen! You are going to spend the next year trying cycle after cycle and failing! Get ready for this abundant, gratifying time in your life!!"

And I know there will be those saying: "But she was talking about her infertility..."

Whatever! Still a bunch of fucking crap! Hurtful, self important, sanctimonious crap that is DEFINITELY NOT Infertility's Voice!

I guess that's why this post doesn't piss me off...

giving thanks 

Thank you Katie for acknowledging the heartache and struggle and not being like "I got mine so everyone be grateful!"

This is truly the Infertility Voice!!

And I will raise my Infertility Voice and say yes, I am thankful. I am thankful for the beautiful life that I have, my family, my friends... I am thankful that I am a strong person who is learning and changing everyday from the struggles that I face...I am thankful that I have learned a level of compassion that I didn't know existed....I am thankful I haven't jumped off a bridge yet...but I will never be thankful for something that causes so much pain.

I am thankful that Infertility has taught me enough about pain, suffering and loss to never be thankful for Infertility...I'll let that sink in for a moment!

*Note - I just even want to point out the titles on both posts...The Infertility Voice (yeah right!) the post is all caps..."Look at me"...from If to when...all lowercase...humble...respectful, caring and compassionate.

From 0 to 100...

S.I.F had a post A 100 Years Older. In that post she quote a scene from Private Practice where the character Amelia says to a handsome doctor asking her out:

"You look at me like we're the same age and we could have fun. And I might have made the same mistake if I were you, but we're not the same age; I'm about 100 years older than I look.”

And wow isn't that true. Now to be honest I don't really watch too much Private Practice. I have seen it. But I am usually in bed before it comes on and I am NOT a DVR'er. I don't have the time. Really I could change this whole post into a post on:

Where the "F" do people find the time to:

Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
DVR
Watch TV
Workout
Blog!

And man it boggles my mind when bloggers can post more than 4 posts a month never mind those that do 20 an month!

How the fuck!!

Anyway this isn't a post about my poor time management.

It's a post about being 100 years older than I look...

I have always felt older. I always knew I was older than those in my age group.

I remember one time in acting class, I think I was around 21 years old at the time. I was watching a monologue that another girl was performing, she was 18 years old. And in the monologue she took this moment where she held her breathe and puffed out her cheeks and then let the air out in kind of "raspberry" when she released. I remember my acting teacher commenting on what a youthful and playful moment that was and all I could think was: "I was never that young".

I was never that young because even by the time I was 21 years old I was about a 100 years older than I looked.

I couldn't stand to be around 20 year olds when I was a 20 years old. Too immature...to clueless...it's a shame I never really got to be immature and clueless...

Having gone through things (and we'll just leave it at "things") at a young age added those 100 years and  lead to many bad choices. Choices to try to remove those years.

Smoking, drinking, drugs...which in reality only added more  years as I struggled to pull myself out of the mess.

And when I finally did emerge, it was only to find out that it's too late...

Yes I am about a 100 years older than I look. I am about a 100 years older than I was this time last year.

On this day last year I was wheeled into an operating room for a D&C because my 2nd pregnancy had ended in miscarriage.

I aged a 100 years in that moment.

And now I am doing my 13th and FINAL cycle. With every cycle, every shot and especially every negative...I have aged a 100 years...

3 1/2 years since my first appointment with an RE...

Almost 2 years since my first miscarriage and exactly 1 year since my 2nd miscarriage...and boy have I aged...

As I sit in my adoption class discussing birthmothers...

I have to remind myself that I WILL be a mother.

I will be a mother but sadly that means someone else will end up aging a 100 years in order for me to do so.

But I just have to keep reminding myself...I will be a mother...13 could turn out to be lucky...I could get the call tomorrow...I will be a mother...

I just hope I don't age another 100 years before that day arrives.

Oh and I will also note that this is my 100 post!

God's Plan Part II

Truth and Consequences

The Truth...

You hear many women say...

Well, once they have crossed over the tumultuous land of "IF"  that is riddled with trip wires and land mines and triumphantly make it to the other side...

You hear many women say whether they succeeded after 1 attempt, 2 attempts, 10 attempts...

The final word is...

That this is the baby I was meant to be a mother to...

That they wouldn't change a thing...

That they would go through it all over again...

That this is God's Plan....

I believe that they believe this is the truth.

I am sure that if I had succeeded in one of my 12 cycles or if I succeed on my 13th cycle that I might be saying all these things  too...

They are exclamations of relief and justification for all that one has been through...

But...

But...the truth?

Although we might perceive it to be true...is it really true?

Is it even logical?

I mean think about it...

If you got success on your 1st cycle or your 12th cycle then what really is the difference?

The drawn out heartbreak and torture of each cycle.

That's really the only difference.  The outcome is the same.

If you had success on your first cycle wouldn't you change it so that you didn't need to "cycle" at all?

Or change it so you wouldn't have to do 10 cycles?

If the outcome is the same so, really, truthfully...wouldn't you change the amount of torture that you had to endure?

I know I would.

I know if I could change it, I would make it so my first pregnancy didn't end in miscarriage.

I know that means I wouldn't have had the miracle of my 2nd pregnancy but...I would change it if I could... even if it meant losing those 8 magical weeks.

And I know some will say: "Well then it wouldn't be this baby?"

But why? Why wouldn't it be?

I believe that the soul that is "meant" to be with you keeps trying until they make it...in some form or another...

So in Truth I think that if I do finally have a successful pregnancy on my 13th cycle and welcome my baby into the world...I would change it...I would make it so that we were already together...

And Consequences...

But what if I don't have success on my 13th cycle and FINAL cycle.

What if my child comes to me some other way...

What if success comes in the form of adoption?

Would it then be:

This is the baby I was meant to be a mother to...

And I wouldn't change a thing...

I would go through it all over again...

And this is God's Plan...

As an adoptive parent in waiting, once a month I go to my adoption agency and I take classes. These classes are conducted by the social workers.

I cannot tell how much I learn in these classes. It is more than just knowledge. It is soul inspiring.

The topic of God's Plan did come up in one of our classes. It was mentioned by another adoptive parent in waiting who is trying to adopt her second child.

In a discussion about her first adoption all the "buzz" words came out...She said:

"I was meant to be this baby's mother"

And I smiled and nodded...it's such a nice thought even if I have trouble with the "meant to be" aspect of things...

"I wouldn't change a thing"

In my head all I could think of was: "Yeah right!"

"I would do it all over again"

Well evidently since you're here trying to adopt a 2nd!

Me personally I wish I could skip all the Infertility crap...maybe just be so zen about my adoption that I skipped cycling all together...

"It is God's Plan"

Hmmmmm???? I have never really been "sold" on the God's Plan thing...

And with that statement...right in that moment when I was battling in my head my own feelings and theories on God's Plan...the social worker put the brakes on and started a conversation about God's Plan.

What God's Plan means to a birthmother.  And how hurtful saying it is God's Plan could actually be to a birthmother.

I never really thought about that...so God's Plan was to put this woman through hell in order for me to be a mother to her child.

Kinda hurtful don't you think...

It really puts the concept of God's Plan into perspective.

What did God give her the finger! Did God decide in some great scheme that she should suffer?

No I don't think so...

Well at least I don't think so anymore...

I mean to be perfectly honest maybe we should really stop and think about what we deem God's Plan or God's Will because in my book we are kinda making him look like an asshole.

Maybe instead we should say...

Our loving God created both of us and isn't it wonderful that in some miraculous way we were able to help each other....and that God's Plan is that we find these ways everyday...

Election Day

I have never voted based on campaigns and campaign promises. Or the incessant sound bites coming from either side. To be honest most of it is downright ludicrous and I can't believe that seemingly smart people on both sides regurgitate this nonsense. I don't vote on what any candidate wants to do, promises to do, etc., even with all the best efforts real change won't happen until the system fundamentally changes. Until we get rid of parties and truly work together as one for the greater good. Do I think Romney and his 5 point mathematically impossible plan is going to fix the economy. NO! Do I think Obama and his "tax the rich plan" is going to fix the economy. NO! They will filibuster and battle the shit out of each other until the next election. There isn't a ruler small enough to measure this teeny weeny pissing contest. And then they will just swear to undo what the other has done; good or bad it doesn't matter. Because they are for themselves and winning the next election. And then we will do this all over again in 4 years. Each blaming the other side when it's a collaborative effort...So I base my vote on my basic philosophies. We elect those to represent us. So I will vote on a representation that I can live with. One that comes closest to who I am as a human being and what I believe in. I believe in equal rights for all. If there is one person being oppressed that is one person too many. I could never look them or their children in the eye knowing I voted against their equal rights. I believe in equal pay. I believe in the separation of church and state. I believe in a women's right to choose. I believe in a loving God that does not discriminate. I believe in the freedoms that we based this country on. Freedom of religion...or non-religion. I believe that people have the right not to believe. I believe in science and keeping religion out of it to necessitate true progress. I believe in helping your fellow man in times of trouble. I believe in protecting our environment not destroying it for profit or to fix our economic issues. I believe in showing the love and respect that this great land deserves. These are some of my general principles. I will not comprise these principals for the sake of finance. I cannot associate myself by voting for a representation that is so grossly different in their beliefs to mine no matter what the cost. I will vote for the candidate that closely represents my principals as a reflection of who I am in my heart...

Shame on me!, The Usual Suspects, Sandy and Leroy sitting in a tree, and Lucky Number 13?

Bad Blogger 

First I have to apologize for being such a bad, bad blogger.

Shame on me!! My bad!!

In my long ago, far away, last post "Crazy", I mentioned in passing the fact that I am going back to school. And yes that is true.

And it's CRAZY!!

And it takes up ALL my time!

I have a lot of posts started and I promise to post them once I get a chance to finish them.

So I am sorry that I have been a bad blogger as of late but I promise once I get the hang of this going to school and working full time I will try to post more often.

Halloween Fun

My "bestie" friend V had a Halloween Party on Saturday.

I have mentioned before that V really knows how to throw a party and this was no exception.

It was exceptional!

It was a murder mystery!

And very intriguing.

Everyone was a suspect.

And here's Sissy L and me being the Usual Suspects...

 No, neither one of us turned out to be the murder but we both had motive....Bahhhhhaaaahhaaaa!!


I think what I like best about being a Bad Blogger and Halloween Fun is that it takes my mind off cycling and all the Crazy things that goes with it.

It takes my mind off the sorrow and pain. It's focused in other places. Even if it's just a Chemistry class or finding the perfect costume.


Where the Hell is Leroy and Hereeeeeee's Sandy! 

For the last 2 months Leroy has NOT been punctual. The one thing Leroy is...is punctual...the only times he hasn't been punctual has been when I have been pregnant or right after an IVF cycle.

In the last 2 months neither has been the case...well...blush...well...

I "might" have "hung out" with the Itch Scratcher last month at just the right moment to make Leroy's lateness questionable.

But I know my body and I knew it was just Leroy being a pain in the ass b/c I wanted to start my dreaded 13th cycle.

Leroy was supposed to come on Monday of last week.

No Leroy.

Tuesday, Wednesday...no Leroy.

News of the imminent Hurricane Sandy started circulating.

Leroy has to get here before Sandy so I can get my baseline done...otherwise no cycle.

Thursday, Friday...no Leroy.

Now I need Leroy NOT to come...or be a few more days late...to come maybe Monday - Hurricane Sandy Day!

Which would also make Leroy a week late...

This way I won't need a baseline until after Sandy has passed.

Saturday...no Leroy.

Sunday the skies get cloudy and the wind starts to pick up.

Sandy is on her way...and so is Leroy!

Sunday...Leroy!

He is officially 6 days late and right on time for his new girlfriend Sandy.

Not knowing what Sandy has in store for us, I decide to brave the winds and the rain early Monday morning and go for my baseline.

So Leroy and I headed out into Sandy...

I am pretty sure the only people on the roads at that time were crazy, fertility patients going for ultrasounds and bloodwork!

And of course the REs...

And of course it turns out I have a cyst...

Now I'm just wondering if Leroy and Sandy really do make a good couple or if I should wait... 

Lucky Number 13... 

Later on during Hurricane Sandy Day I received confirmation I can start my cycle...

Cycle Number 13...

Just in time for Halloween and amidst a hurricane.

A devastating , damaging, frightening...more frightening than any horror movie Hurricane....

Sandy left devastation in her wake...

Massive, amounts of physical damage. Homes lost...

She has destroyed my beloved Jersey Shore...and my heart breaks...

I am so sad...

It's part of my childhood, my adulthood...gone...

Lucky Number 13 could end up destroying so much more...my heart, my soul. It won't take a hurricane to extinguish what little flicker of hope I have left.

But for now instead of thinking of that I mourn the losses in my state, in my home, in my heart...Rock on NJ we will prevail!!!


 

Crazy

It's crazy how little I feel right now. How I walk around in a daze.

I guess this is defeat.

It is crazy that I now know what defeat feels like.

It's crazy how empty I feel and it's crazy how each day races by in a blur.

It's crazy that at the end of this month, on October 30th, if I didn't miscarry the first time, I would have a 2 year old running around.

And as crazy as it feels that my baby isn't here... it is just as crazy to think of how it would be if they were here.

It's crazy that 3 months have passed since the due date for my 2nd miscarriage.

And it's crazy that I am not snuggle my newborn as I type this.

It's crazy that I waited so long.

And it's crazy that I keep punishing myself for it.

It's crazy that in my forties not only did I decide to pursue motherhood but I have also started going back to school.

It's crazy how little time I have...and that can be taken in all the monumental  ways that one can conjure up...

I will say it again...

It's crazy how little time I have.

It's crazy how fragile I feel.  Anyone who knows me knows my strength.

I guess this is weakness.

It's crazy that I now know what weakness feels like.

It's crazy that the thought of cycling again, the thought of one more shot, one more pill, one more transfer and one more two week wait makes me envision myself falling to my knees and wailing.

And what is even crazier is that I will be starting another cycle with my next period.

It's crazy that this will be my 13th cycle.

And it's crazy that I no longer have a sense of hope.

But you want to know what's not crazy...me...because I am not expecting a different result.   I'm just getting it over with.

I will not hang my hopes and dreams on this only to get crushed again.

I will not believe...

or at least I will try not to...

I will try not to believe...

I will try not to believe...

It's crazy that my new found non-faith is so hard to follow.

It's crazy that I can't follow a simple, logical plan not to believe.

Isn't it crazy that I still somehow believe?

The Gambler

"You got to know when to hold them..." ~ Kenny Rogers

Anyone who knows me, knows that I have never been much of a gambler. I can't stand to lose a roll of quarters in a slot machine.

If the gamble isn't really "real", like when you are playing for chips, or pennies, or monopoly money...hey then I am all in.

But real gambles...they scare me.

I tend to play it safe.

That's why I had no clue what a gamble, what a risk I was taking with my life, my heart and my soul when I embarked on my journey to motherhood.

I always knew I would have children. To say I always wanted them is kind of a lie. I wanted them when I was ready.  I wanted them on my terms. So no, I didn't want to become a teen mom and no, I didn't really want children in my 20's. I wanted to make sure I was at a point in my life where I truly, truly was ready and I truly, truly wanted my children.

And I wanted that silly little fucking fairy tale that bit me in my ass.

You all know the one...the one where you meet the man of your dreams, fall in love, get married and have 2 beautiful children.

Yeah that load of fucking garbage. That's also what I wanted.

But as time wore on,  I realized the latter part of the fairy tale was the part I couldn't live without.

I decided to roll dice. I decided to go it alone.

And I never thought that this decision, that this roll of the dice included infertility and miscarriages.

And I never thought I would have to keep gambling, keep risking it all.

That's why gambling scares me. It's an addiction.

And like any addiction as the stakes become higher and higher the need for one more roll of the dice becomes greater and greater.

And with each toss you think "This has to be it!" and with each loss the truth is that this might be one gamble that never pays off.

In considering a bust...in the cold hard reality that I might lose, I'm beginning to realize just how high the stakes really are...

“God is, or He is not.” But to which side shall we incline? Reason can decide nothing here. There is an infinite chaos which separated us. A game is being played at the extremity of this infinite distance where heads or tails will turn up... Which will you choose then? Let us see. Since you must choose, let us see which interests you least. You have two things to lose, the true and the good; and two things to stake, your reason and your will, your knowledge and your happiness; and your nature has two things to shun, error and misery. Your reason is no more shocked in choosing one rather than the other, since you must of necessity choose... But your happiness? Let us weigh the gain and the loss in wagering that God is... If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then, without hesitation that He is. ~ Blaise Pascal 

Philosopher Blaise Pascal philosophized that it is better wager to believe that God exists. That in that gamble if you  believe in God  you gain all and if you lose you lose nothing...Is that really true?

I will never forget walking into church after my first miscarriage. I was lost. I was looking for something and after a couple of weeks of attending church, I thought maybe it wasn't so much that I was looking for something but waiting for this something to return.

My faith. I needed my faith to return and stepping into that church made it start to come back.

I started to find peace and the strength to try again.

I thought that if this journey brought me through those doors than maybe this is a reason.

The beautiful reason of  bringing me closer to God. To strengthen my faith. And I thought that my faith could only get stronger from here.

"where heads or tails will turn up... Which will you choose then?"

You see I took a gamble and walked into that church hoping that it would pay off. That it would strengthen my faith but that's not what happened.

The reality is, this wager, this gamble I took to trust in the Lord, to open myself and let my faith come back to life. To believe.

The wager of believing has completely backfired.

"Know when to fold them..." ~ Kenny Rogers

I thought that this journey would only strengthen my faith but in reality it has only weakened it.

You can only get knocked down so many times before you can't get back up again.

You can only trust and believe so many times before you are drained of all that you believe in.

Pascal says: "If you gain, you gain all."

What do you really gain?

I think that Pascal was missing an important part of the Wager. What believing does to you and your soul...the pain that believing causes you.

"...But your happiness?"

To believe would make it all too cruel.

I have come to the realization that no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I go to church, no matter how hard I pray...it doesn't matter. It won't make a difference.

And that is the pain of wagering that "He is"...

There is a lot to lose when you wager  "He is" ...

It is too high of a price to pay, losing all your faith from making the wager that  "He is" .

I've come to this realization and it is so painful that I know it has to be true...

No matter how many times you roll the dice at the end of the day it is just that...a roll of the dice...there is no divine intervention.

And if you want to place a wager on whether or not there is some kind of divine intervention you are better off saying  "He is not".

" "He is not" makes it hurt less...

" "He is not" make the suffering more explainable...

 "He is not" doesn't destroy your soul...

So if I am going to place my final wager...I'm going to go with  "He is not".

"and two things to stake, your reason and your will, your knowledge and your happiness;"

At least  "He is not" doesn't drain you of all that is at stake.

I have a Blog and I am going to use it!

Let us not seek the Republican answer, or the Democratic one, but the right, fair, answer ~ JFK


This is what I can or cannot live with.

This is my space and my opinion. You may have a different opinion and politely comment to that fact but do not shit in my house!

I will delete or shut down comments if that happens.

20 reasons that made this middle of the roader take a left turn (and that's just this year!)...

What is NOT Acceptable:

1. Not granting all Americans, all Human Beings, the same rights as others
2. Destroying the Environment to Create Jobs
3. Using Religion to Dictate Legislation
4. Defunding Planned Parenthood
5. Privatizing Medicare
6. Privatizing Social Security
7. Abolishing Unions
8. Privatizing Education
9. Fracking
10. The Keystone Pipeline
11. Depleting our Oil Supply
12. Overturning Roe vs Wade
13. Reinstating Don't Ask Don't Tell
14. Overturning Stem Cell Research
15. Implementing Personhood Laws
16. Legitimate Rape
17. Creating Laws to stop another human being from providing a loving home to a child in need.
18. Not providing US citizen with some form of affordable Health Care (only in America can you get shot in a movie theatre and rack up 2 million dollars worth of doctor bills!)
19. Tax shelters- off shore or in tax cuts. Equal taxes for all!
20. I go back to #1. I would rather live in a tent and pay 90% in taxes before I cast a vote that takes away the rights of another!

Untitled

I couldn't decide on a title for this post because I have so many different titles running around in my head. Each title representing the cacophony of emotions and thoughts that have been overtaking my mind and my heart.

cacophony  (noun) - an unpleasant combination of loud, often jarring, sounds *aka - the sound of my tears (screams and sobs)...

Strike 12 - Forever Whiffer!
Yes, I just completed my 12th cycle and I struck out again. BFN!

That is now  4 BFNs in a row.

Will I forever be that little girl in her own backyard fearful that the only thing I will ever be able to do is strike out?

3 + 12 = 0
On August 28th it will 3 years since I started TTC.

3 years and 12 cycles

4 IUIs

5 IVFs

3 FETs

2 pregnancies and 2 miscarriages

Equals ZERO!

Zero babies!

Definition of Insanity
Am I crazy? Could one actually try cycle #13 (or #14 or #15) and expect a different outcome?

Everyone but me
I have been completely left behind.  I am the last one from just about all my boards who hasn't had a baby or isn't pregnant which only solidifies my theory that everyone but me will become a mom.

All I have wanted is to become a mom and I know that I have my adoption and I pray every day it will come through so I can stop this obsession about getting pregnant.

Every since I miscarried all I want is to be pregnant. It's all I want.

And I won't stop until I am a mom. (Please God let me become a mom!)

Why can't it be me for once?

When is enough, enough?
How many times can I break til I shatter?

WTF AGAIN!
Completely speechless! I am so speechless that it has taken me two weeks to be able to create this incoherent post!

F-God's Plan!
If God's Plan is for me NOT to be a mother than I want nothing to do with him or his f-ing plan!

In a bad place
Yes, I am in a bad place. I can't see my way out and the pain is unbearable.

And I am pretty sure this bad place must be hell!

Memory Lane

Ever since I started trying to conceive and Dr. Doom declared his devastating diagnosis of: "A practically zero percent chance of conceiving" I have been going down Memory Lane.

I have been going over every inch of my life with a fine tooth comb.

From the time I graduated high school and went to college all the up to the day I decide to go it alone.

Every step I made, every choice I've made I have put under a microscope.

And when you start to look at things that up close...you end up not liking what you see.

Especially when you put it in relationship to where you are today. And where you are today is lost and alone and childless. Without your family.

Everything feels like a misstep.

What if I did this?

Or didn't do that?

Went here or there?

Stayed with him?

Or tried harder with him?

Or this, that or the other thing?

Questioning

Second guessing.

I know the "shoulda, woulda, couldas" aren't something you can change so why go over them right?

And really for most of them I know why I chose what I did. I don't have regrets.

For most of them...

So this really isn't a "shoulda, woulda, couldas" thing but more of a "Where did I go off course?" thing.

And I analyze it.

And I know.

I know the moments that put me off course.

I know the mistakes I've made.

And I can look my mistakes in the eye and say: "You did this"

I did this.

I chose to pursue my dreams over settling down.

I chose to "be free" and wait until I was ready and waited too long.

I chose a lot things that at the time I thought was the right choice.

And I stand by those decisions.

No regrets right.

Right?

But now...now as I walk down Memory Lane and as I dissect every choice... They all feel bad.

Because they ultimately lead me here.

That's what this journey has done to me. It has sent me down Memory Lane where I question every choice I have made. Where I start to feel like everything I have done in my life wasn't worth anything. Every choice, every turn, every step a mistake. One big giant mistake that has ultimately brought me to where I am now.

Memory Lane is filled with nothing but Land Mines.

Recently I went to a college reunion of sorts.

The old Theatre gang from my college all got together.

And it was...

Wonderful!

Uplifting!

And possibly reaffirming.

It was a different kind of trip down Memory Lane.

This time traveling down Memory Lane is refreshing, instead of Land Mines I'm reliving amazing friendships. Reconnecting with the friends that became my family so long ago and realizing how important they were and are in my life. Realizing what a huge part of my history they are. And I love them. Each and every one of them.

We laughed and hugged and reminisced.

Remembering a time when maybe my life wasn't one big giant mistake.

It filled me back up and put that missing smile back on my face if only for a moment. And in that moment it all felt right.

Memory Lane brought me back to all the friends that I have made over the years, the ones I've had all my life, the ones I made along the way, old friends, new friends, the friends I talk to everyday and the ones I only see at mini reunions.

All of them are on Memory Lane.

So, when going down Memory Lane and looking at the choices that I've made, if those choices brought all these amazing people into my life, then they all couldn't have been bad right?


 

A Public Service Announcement...

The Fashion Police... 

Now I am not one that screams fashion. I have had my disastrous moments. I mean seriously I was a teenager in the late 80s where fashion ran amok.

And I did wear my fair share of "skimpy" clothing back in the day before Infertility took "my pretty" and proceeded to layer on the extra pounds.

BUT and I might have to say BUTT...

Sunday I went to a pretty popular water park in NJ.

And it was full of BUTTS.

It was a sea of "Oh mys" and "What are you wearing" and "Holy...I didn't need to see that!"

So maybe a few "suggestions" might help.

The Speedo Law 

I have been saying for years that there should be a Speedo Law.

At first I thought maybe the law should go by measurements. You know if you have to be "at least this tall to ride this ride" then maybe something like: "You have to have these measurements" to be able to buy and wear a Speedo.

Or if I can't see your suit underneath your beer gut never mind having that moment of "Is he even wearing a suit?", then it's against the law for you to purchase or wear a Speedo. You must stick to board shorts...LONG board shorts.

But after the unfortunate sights that I encountered at the water park on Sunday let's just make the law this:

Unless you are competing in the Olympics in a swimming or diving event OR you are a male stripper (Magic Mike style) it is against the law for you to purchase a Speedo. Period! The End!

String Bikinis 

This is a safety and decency issue. If I have any male readers they might not agree with this one.

Now trust me if someone had said to me to cover up when I was strutting around in my itty bitty tinsy winsy bikini I would have gladly given them the bird BUT I learned my lesson the hard way.

There is beach attire AND there is water park attire. Trust me there is a difference and there SHOULD be difference.

Hot, hot, hot, hot stuff....

I had the misfortune of wearing beach attire to the water park once when I was around 17. I strutted my stuff in a purple string bikini all the way to the top of the water slide.

There were 3 entrances to 3 slides. I assumed slow, medium, and fast.

Well we all know what assuming does and as soon and I put my mat down and started down the slide I knew I made a crucial error and I was on the fast water slide.

Around the first turn I flipped over, smacked my face on the wall of the water slide, lost my mat and flailed all the way down.

I can't tell you how many times I flipped over and around. Between all the water spraying in my face and the blow I took to my nose I couldn't see a thing.

I finally flew out the bottom of the tube into the shallow water waiting below.

Like some kind of drunken sailor I tried to get me feet underneath me to stand up. When I finally did stand up, wiped the water out of my face, got my bearings, looked around, then I looked down to realize that I didn't have a top on and in looking back up I also realized that I had an audience.

Trying to cover my breasts with my hands (which in my case is rather easy since my cup doesn't runneth over) and looking for my top at the same time all the while the lifeguard and everyone (and boy do I mean everyone) waiting to get on the slide was watching me.

It was nowhere to be found.

I was trying to sink as low as I could in the shallow water of the pool when I saw my mat come racing down the slide.

I reached out for my mat with one hand while my other hand had the job of trying to cover both breasts. I then pick up the mat and wrapped it around me so I was covered and waited patiently for my top to come down the slide.

Once it finally did make its way down the slide, I had to try to put my top back on while still covering myself with the mat. I wasn't very successful and once again gave my audience a show.

There is beach attire AND there is water park attire. Don't confuse the two. Make sure that your water park attire has more than strings holding it on to your fab body! Go for a racer back style swimsuit.

PDA 

Where is the love?

Ahhh love!

Young love, old love it's all around you.

And seeing a couple young or old, holding hands and looking at each other with those sweet, "mushy" eyes, expressing their love always puts a smile on one's face.

But seeing couples "go at it" in an overzealous public display of affection can turn anyone's appreciation of love into "get a room"!

Ahh love!

And when you are in the water park, in the public pool with lots of children around, that is NOT the place to be "expressing your love" by straddling each other and gyrating under the water.

Because I will tell you where the love shouldn't be and that is in a public pool!

Personally I don't want to have to swim past or walk by your underwater woody with my children or anyone else's children for that matter. I don't want have to stand next to your underwater woody either. There should be no underwater woodies at the water park!

If you are in the ocean, hey, the ocean is endless, I can escape being next to you and your underwater woody but in the tidal wave pool at the water park...with tons of children around...

Yikes! Please, take it down a notch (or two or three! Heck let's go for flacid!) and save the romantic swimming for a more private place or a more expansive place.

This concludes my water park public service announcement. I hope that I have spread the woody, I mean word!

Go forth, cover up and keep it down!

 

My worst enemy...

When I was young, probably around the spirited (and by spirited I mean spiteful) teenage years, I remember saying things to mom like: I hate "so and so" I hope that  "something bad" happens to them.

And my mother would always say: "Wish them the best."

"Wish them the best?"

Puke!

Then when I was a little older, in my carefree (and by carefree I mean crazy) twenties my BFF and I whenever we felt like wishing "harm" on someone, we would make fun of that famous statement that I guess all mothers make: "Wish them the best!"

Mockingly we would say:

"Wish them the best but hope for the worst!"

And really for the most part the "harm" we were wishing wasn't that bad, spiteful yes, hurtful not really...

You know things like:

"I hope she wakes up with a giant zit on her nose."

"I hope he goes bald like his dad."

"I hope she gains 20 lbs."

Or maybe even more spiteful "wishes" when it came to affairs of the heart that ended badly. Things like:

"I hope he gets an STD."

"I hope his thing falls off."

"I hope his brother sleeps with his wife on their wedding day."

You know things that were more like karma biting you in the ass.

And no matter what, as soon as that thought would pop into my mind: "I hope they get a flat tire." I would hear my mother's voice: "Wish them the best" followed by me and my BFF's voice taunting:  "but hope for the worst"

Really in hindsight the only reason you would "hope" for something bad to happen to someone is if you were hurt in some way. Wronged in some way. You didn't just go around wishing zits and STDs on everyone.  You didn't want the entire male population to be walking around dropping their members on the ground but you did in some way want karma to bite that person who "wronged" you in the ass.

And wasn't it to "teach" them what is was like to be hurt or wronged in same way. The person you were wishing this on needed to learn.  Or needed some compassion or needed to know what it was like to have what happened to you done to them. Even if it was just being made fun of over a zit.

But Infertility isn't a person you can wish an STD on.

With Infertility you are in pain all the time.

And most people lack compassion when it comes to Infertility.

They take their fertility for granted and can't understand.

They announce their "Oops I'm pregnant" and you wish...

"We weren't even trying" and you wish...

"What's the big deal you can just adopt. I would have no problem with that" says the women with 3 kids and you wish...

"I got it on my first try" and you wish...

And all you feel is wronged, hurt, robbed.

And sometimes I can't understand HOW they can't understand and I wish....

I wish...

I wish them the best and I hope...

I hope...

I hope they can understand someday without EVER having to experience the WORST.

I wish somehow they would know how this feels.

I wish they KNEW!

But I wouldn't wish THIS...

This pain...

This suffering...

This feeling of loss...

on my worst enemy.

Speechless

WTF is a phrase that usually denotes some form of speechlessness. I mean really, what sentence follows "What the Fuck"? Usually nothing. Speechless.

WTF?

My WTF consult after my 3rd failed FET in a row, pretty much lived up to its name.

WTF!

My RE, not Dr. Wow, but my new RE who I have now done 4 cycles with...

Wait I just realize that I haven't given him a name.

He's not Dr. Doom or his partner Dr. Darth Vader, not even close. He is too sweet for those names. He's not Dr. Period who turned into Dr. Bumbles. He's very professional  and he is not my Dr. Wow even though I might have just as big of a crush on him as I do have on Dr. Wow.

Hmmm...wait....now what does that say about me if the only doctors I ever seem to get crushes on happen to be my REs?

I only get crushes on doctors that are looking at my "cookie"?

My crush meter only goes off on the "downtown" doctor!

WTF!!

See what I mean!

Speechless!

What does one say after that?

I am not even going to begin to psychoanalyze that!

Anyway my new RE who I will call Dr. Sunshine...my new RE called me to go over my last failed FET and he basically said he had no idea why I didn't get pregnant.

He feels that I should have gotten pregnant and that over his years of experience as an RE the one thing that he sees that really ensures success is persistence.

Persistence?

Are you kidding me?

You are talking to the woman who has done 11 cycles!

WTF!

And I truly feel like I can't do one more cycle.

One more failed cycle might be the end of me.

But then Dr. Sunshine offers me a really great opportunity to do just that; one more cycle.

And just like the Godfather: it's an offer I can't refuse.

WTF!

I am dreading doing another cycle.

The thought fills me with anxiety and pain.

But I know that the only thing that would stop me from doing this next cycle, this LAST cycle would be if my adoption would come through.

So I started praying for that.

Every night I would pray for my adoption to come through so I wouldn't have to do another cycle.

And you know what happened...

Drum roll please...

My cycle has been delayed!  And I am not sure if it's even  going to happen now.

WTF!

That is NOT what I was praying for!

And now pregnancies are popping up everywhere!

The boards and blogs are on fire with BFPs.

Just about everyone is pregnant, including Adele.

Which of course fills my heart with that familiar ache and now all I want to do is cycle.

WTF!

Everything has just been leaving me speechless lately.

Everything has been leaving me saying WTF!

So when the Itch Scratcher called me the other day wanting to "hang out", really what was there left to say but sure, why not and WTF.

And hey, the kind of speechless the Itch Scratcher  leaves me might be just what the RE ordered!

Fading Away

When I was in High School one of my friends, one of the neighborhood kids, you know the ones that are in your group, not your "click" but your group. They live right up the street and you go through Kindergarten all the way to High School with them and you do everything with them, right down to cutting school and getting caught. One of those friends. When I was in High School one of my friends died in a car crash the night of graduation.

I used to think I would never forget.

And there are some things that I haven't.

The phone call from my best friend in High School telling me he had died. I can still hear the sorrow in her voice on the other end of the telephone.

The funeral, the ride in the back of the limo with his father on the way to the cemetery. The line of cars that went for miles behind us with their headlights on all for him.

But there are some things I just can't seem to remember.

And I am not saying that I have forgotten my friend. Obviously not but the details are fading.

I can't remember his voice but I do remember some of the things he said. But the sound of his voice has faded.

I know he was goofy and even typing that makes me smile. But I can't remember any of the silly things he used to do.

And his face. I know he had a sweet face and I see a flash of what could be his face but his features have faded.

I know I could go back into old photos and yearbooks to see him. But as soon as the photos go back into the box or the yearbook closes, it's just not there anymore. Not like it used to be. Not as vivid as it used to be. It's a like a trace or a ghost.

It's like an artist removing a character from a sketch. Little by little they start to disappear as they are being erased from the illustration one part at a time from the bottom up until there is nothing left but the trace of an image that was once there. A faint outline of what could have been. A character that's faded away...once was there but then removed.

It's like my sailor. Yes, I can go back and look at the photos of us together but the features of his face are fading, fading away from my memory and as hard as I try to remember the only time I can truly see his face clearly is in my dreams and even those are now fading and very infrequent. But never while I am awake can I see his face clearly. It's a flash. It's a sense but not the complete picture. It's almost not tangible anymore.

And I used to be able to picture myself pregnant and being mother so clearly.

When I was with my sailor I would have these vivid visions of him wrapping his arms around me from behind and bear hugging me and our baby through my big, beautiful belly. I could see it. Clearly see it. Every detail.

When I started this journey all I could do is see myself pregnant.

I had no problem closing my eyes and seeing my baby on the ultrasound screen. Hearing their heartbeat in the corners of my mind. It beat with mine.

And I could picture myself being a mother. Holding my baby. Giggling with and smiling at and kissing my baby.

I would also have these strong visions in church about my adoption and could picture my baby's christening.

I would dream about my baby. I had dreams all the time.

I dreamt of a beautiful, bald headed, chubby little baby boy about 5 months old in white "feety" pjs adorn with Christmas trees and I fed him in my red leather chair that faces the TV in my living room.

I dreamed of my sweet little girl of toddler age with soft brown curls, sucking on her pointer finger and laughing. We were outside and I was holding her on my hip. She was wearing a white sundress with cherries decorating it.

I could see them. Clearly. I would dream about them. Often.

But now they are fading.

I remember the day before I had my ultrasound, the one that told me I was going to miscarry again. I remember getting this distinct feeling. All week I had be walking on sunshine, reveling in my pregnancy. I even bought something for the nursery. The elephant mirror I had my eye on.

I was in my bedroom getting dressed thinking about being pregnant in the summer. And I thought to myself: "I hope it's not too hot this year" and as soon as that thought passed my mind another one came in and it said...you won't be pregnant this summer...and I knew...I knew in that moment it was over. And that amazing feeling of being pregnant faded.

And ever since then I can't seem to picture myself pregnant. It's slowly fading from my view.

Just the other day a dear friend of mine posted a video of her newborn son making faces and noises when she would speak to him.

I watched that video in awe. It's so beautiful.

And in an instant. It happened again and this thought crossed my mind that said...you will never have that...

All my visions of being a mother are fading.

I can't see my babies and I don't dream of them anymore. It's almost not tangible.

Fading away...all slowly disappearing until it's a distant memory and I don't know how to stop it. I am afraid that the only thing that will be left is a trace. A trace of an image that once was there, like an artist erasing a character from a sketch it will disappear. And all that is left is a faint outline of what could have been.

Another Swing of Whiffer's Bat!

Ernest Lawrence Thayer (1863-1940)

Casey at the Bat

A Ballad of the Republic, Sung in the Year 1888

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that–
We'd put up even money now with Casey at the bat.

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;  
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,  
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.  
 
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Johnnie safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped–
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the sphereoid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville –mighty Casey has struck out.

Oh ye of little faith...

A couple of Sundays ago Pastor Don did a sermon on how Jesus fed 5,000 people with 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish.

The miracle of the 5 loaves and 2 fish.

Now I am not "up" on my Bible studies.

To be perfectly honest I haven't read the Bible (well pieces of it I have) let alone studied it.

I am (as stated many times) a work in progress when it comes to religion.

I will be paraphrasing what I took away from the sermon. If I incorrectly comment on the Bible passage or verse please don't take it out on Pastor Don. I am sure that it is a relay of information issue stemming from the "relayer"! Me!

So, Jesus is somewhere where there's a lot of people. About 5,000 people in all and he asks the disciples how much food there is.

They find a boy who has 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish.

All the disciples (or at least a couple of them) start freaking out saying that it is impossible to feed this many people on 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish.

Jesus tells them to bring him the 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish and proceeds to start passing it out and it becomes endless, where he does indeed feed all!

Now Pastor Don talked about the disciples. How the disciples were too consumed with doubt and fear to be able to see the miracle that was just about to happened.

The miracle that was just around the corner.

And then he went on to ask us if in our lives are we too consumed with doubt and fear that we too can't see the miracle that is just around the corner waiting for us.

And it got me wondering...

Could that be the reason why I am almost certain that this cycle has failed?

Because I can't see my own miracle right around the corner...

Is that why I can't embrace and support those who have "crossed over"?

Because I can't see my own miracle right around the corner...

Is that why I am consumed at times with anger and jealousy?

Because I can't see my own miracle right around the corner...

Is that why I am so beaten down and broken?

Because I can't see my own miracle right around the corner...

Is that why the second someone announces something the first thing that comes to my mind is "Go scratch!" or "Bite me!" instead of "Congratulations!"

Is that because I can't see my own miracle right around the corner...

If I could see my miracle would all that change?

If I could have the faith to know for certain that my miracle is just around the corner would I then have the inner peace that would take away all these feelings?

Is that what it truly means to be one with God?

If I could just see the miracle right around the corner would it:

Alleviate my doubts and fears?

Remove my tears that are always near the surface?

Fill the empty void in my heart?

Quiet the voices of defeat?

How does one accomplish this?

Because for me maybe it isn't a matter of faith maybe it's because:

I am certain this cycle's failed because I have taken 4 HPTs (Home Pregnancy Tests) and they have all come out negative.

OR

I can't embrace those who have crossed over because I am still struggling and can't seem to make to the other side myself.

OR

I am consumed at times with anger and jealousy because "see above".

OR

The reason I am so broken down and beaten is because the one thing I want most in this world I can't seem to have and the few times I thought I did it was ripped away from me.

And well "Go scratch!" and "Bite me!" is a lot better than "Fuck off!"

So how does one accomplish that kind of faith?

Because after almost 3 years of heartache all I can think of is that must be one hell of a large corner!

It' gotta be bigger than a city block!

Or around the world?

What is it...right around the corner of the universe!

If it is a matter of faith than how come there were so many times when I was certain.

Positive that this cycle was the one or beyond certain in my pregnancies that this was my baby only to be crushed again and again.

How does one have that kind of faith when every time they do they get steamed rolled?

How do I have the faith that my miracle is right around the corner when all it seems to be is a one big circle?

Casey's at Bat...

After my miscarriage I wanted out.

I wanted out of the game!

That horrible game of chance.

That impossible game of trying to conceive.

I didn't want one more inning of shots, blood work, ultrasounds, transfers, negative pregnancy tests.

Or even worse, a positive pregnancy test followed by another miscarriage.

I wanted it to be over. Game Over!!

I focused on different route. One that would surely lead me to motherhood. Adoption. My adoption.

I put my energy, strength, emotions and pride into completing my homestudy.

And I did. And I couldn't be happier and I couldn't be prouder.

And I tried not to think of the game.

I tried so hard to stay out of the game.

But trying to conceive is like being in the Mafia. Once you are in, you can't get out.

And once you think you are finally out...it pulls you back in.

Back into the game.

But unlike the Mighty Casey, I have no confidence. I am sure that I am going to strike out.

I am after all Whiffer!

But somehow I am still playing the game.

I have (well had) 8 frozen embryos left.

And I find myself in a familiar position. Down to my last out.

FET #1 - Done immediately after my miscarriage. Transferred 3 embryos. BFN. Strike 1!

FET #2 - I actually started feeling a little like Mighty Casey. I started feeling like I couldn't lose. I did everything one could think of to ensure success on this cycle. Every test, additional shots, added this, that, and the other thing. I was confident that it had to work. Transferred 2 PERFECT embryos. Swing and miss! BFN!

FET #3 - Cycling with my last 3 embryos.

I am starting to feel like that little girl in her back yard that couldn't hit the ball if Cousin Bb was pitching.

I can almost hear the other kids voices rising with the chant of "Whiffer! Whiffer! Whiffer!"

TTC is really Cousin Bb getting ready to throw it's last pitch of the game and I, whether I stand tall like Mighty Casey or get all nervous like that little girl in that faraway backyard, I know that the pitch is coming and it will be Game Over.

But...

Will there be joy in Mudville?

Or just another swing of Whiffer's bat?