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?


 

A Letter to my Friends and Sunny Days...

Your support brings me to tears.

Your jubilant "Congratulations!"

Your heartfelt "I'm sorry!"

You cheer me on.

You support me when I fall.

You restore my confidence.

But I am not going to lie.

This is hard for me.

It is hard for me to return that support.

It is so hard for me to jubilantly say "Congratulations."

It's so hard to know that I wasted too much time and now I will never have a biological child.

It's so hard for me to face the fact that I may never experience a successful pregnancy.

I may never see or hear my baby's heartbeat.

I may never have that ultrasound telling me the gender of my baby.

I may never feel a flutter or a kick.

I may never experience childbirth.

To know that I may never have those things burns a hole in my soul.

And it makes it hard, so hard for me to be supportive back.

There are days, even several days in a row, where I don't care. I really don't care at all if I ever get pregnant. Days where I never want to cycle again. Where my desire to be a mom overrides the desire to be pregnant. And I am content. I say to myself: "As long as I am a mom I don't care how." and my heart rests for a moment and relishes in the knowing. Knowing that I am going to be a mom.

So why isn't that enough?

Because there are these other moments. The ones that take me by storm. By an emotional storm.

I recently went on a little vacation with V and her hubby. The first day V went off to get a manicure and so hubby and I decided to sit out by the pool.

It wasn't very busy out by the pool. As a matter of fact we were surprised by how few people were around.

There were maybe 10 people walking around or laying out. Not many swimming.

And of course among those 10 lousy people, plopping themselves down right next to me was a pregnant woman.

Well at first I was trying to figure out if she was pregnant or just fat. She had a cover up on and it was hard to tell.

But I kept studying her. I couldn't help it. And I determined that by the way she was walking with the start of a waddle (which still could have meant she was just fat) and how she kept resting her hand on top of her belly that she was indeed pregnant.

And then of course as I was completing my examination and drawing my conclusions on her, another very obviously pregnant woman walked up from the beach with her hand precariously placed on top of her beautiful, full belly.

As I swam laps in the pool I couldn't help staring at them as my emotions began to surface. I tried to look away. I tried to focus on swimming but the storm was already rolling in.

And with each lap I began feeling the loss, feeling the pain, feeling the jealousy until all I could think was: " I hate her!"

And I did. Hate her. In that moment in time, in the middle of the storm, I hated a perfect stranger because of my own short comings.

And then I hated myself for feeling that way but couldn't figure out how to make it stop.

How do you make the rain stop?

How do you make the anger and the jealousy stop?

Make these feelings of inadequacy and loss stop?

How do you make the hate stop?

How do I make my heart stop hurting?

It's like trying to control the wind.

Now imagine how I feel when these emotions, like the perfect storm, all come together into one, when I am looking at the pregnant belly of a friend or family member.

I hate them.

And I hate that I can't help hating them.

But this is where I am now.

Caught somewhere between sunny skies and nasty weather.

Not where I hope to be in the future.

In the future I want to be basking in the sun with my baby.

In the future I want to be able to support you the way you support me.

I want to.

I really do.

But I'm not there yet.

And for that I truly apologize.

And I don't know if I will ever fully be able to embrace, celebrate and support you the way you do for me.

There will always probably be a pang.

A pang of jealously.

A pang of bitterness.

A pang of sorrow.

A pang of loathing?

This pang brewing beneath the surface like thunder on a clear day.

But hopefully someday it will just be a little manageable pang instead of a gaping open wound.

Maybe someday it will just be a tiny bit of turbulence instead flying into the eye of the storm.

You leave comments about how amazing I am and all I can think about is how amazing all of you are and how broken I am.

Although I am over the moon at the prospect of my adoption. The mere thought of the day I meet my baby fills my heart and soul with light and love.

My heart and soul are still fragile.

Even sometimes "well wishes" on my adoption from someone pregnant or someone with biological children brews up an uncontrollable "Fuck you!" in my head when my lips are saying "Thanks!"

And if you are reading this and wondering: "Was she thinking Fuck You when I told her Congratulation?" most likely not but I am not making any promises.

It comes and goes just like a storm.

But know I don't mean it.

Just like the skies don't mean any of the damage it might cause when it rains. I don't mean to feel the way I do when it's raining inside my heart.

So on those days when the storm rolls in, please forgive me my friends.

Know that your support helps me weather the storm.

It helps me embrace my sunny days.

Proud

I've always had this want.

This desire.

This need.

Deep within my soul I know that if I could ever bring this want, this desire, this need to fruition then I have done something amazing in this world.

I would know that I was a part of something bigger than myself.

I would maybe, just maybe feel proud of something I did and the rewards would be endless.

But not pride in an arrogant sort of manner but pride in its most humblest form.

I would be proud that I was able to embrace a life. Proud that I could open my heart and love in a manner close to God.

And the love.

This love in my heart.

It is love that is beyond measure.

A love so powerful that it fuels this want, this desire, this need within my soul.

And if I could share this love.

Give this love unconditionally, I would then know the pride.

A pride so strong.

A pride that only comes from the love you have for your child.

I have this love.

I have this desire, this want, this need to be a mother.

To look upon the face of my child and love unconditionally.

To look upon the face of my child and beam with pride.

I have taken many steps and missteps on my path to motherhood.

But this step...

This last step that I have taken brings me one day closer to my dream...

It is a giant step forward that I have now taken...

Because I know my child is finally on their way home to me.

It may take time but each day brings me closer to the day I meet my child.

And taking this step.

Moving forward towards that day...

That makes me proud.

God's Plan

Courtesy of Google Images

I have never been one to claim complete faith. I have freely admitted that I walk on the edge of cynicism.

I am a work in progress.

I have a lot of "logical" thoughts that take away from that feeling of "blind faith".

But I am trying.

Trying to have the faith and silence the questions.

And there are so many things that I question:

Can you really find salvation by drinking that little cup of juice that represents the blood of Christ?

Are all your sins really forgiven?

How could Moses part a sea?

Was it a sandbar?

Could one man really make an Ark by hand that Elephants could walk on and it still float?

And if Jesus really did do all of those amazing things, how did he do them?

Could he have actually just been the world's very 1st magician?

I am sure that if I lived in those days I would be looking for the string or the sleight of hand.

And of course more importantly I question the more serious issues of the horrors in the world and how they can exists.

For those of you screaming "blasphemy" at me as you read this, I did say that I am trying.

I go to church every Sunday and although at times I may have inappropriate thoughts, I am trying to find the undeniable faith that leads people to make such comments like:

"It was meant to be"

"Everything happens for a reason"

"You will be shown the way"

"God has a plan for you"

And I try to have the faith that will lead me through this dark time in my life.

The faith to know that this is only temporary and that "God's plan" is one of beauty.

But I struggle.

I struggle with the fact that every day I cry.

I struggle with the fact the I have to face this all alone.

No one there beside me to hold my hand, comfort me or wipe the tears from my cheek.

Every day I live with such an unbearable ache in my heart and I wonder what could that plan possibly be?

If God's plan is that I be alone and have no family it is working out perfectly.

But I do know this... if it wasn't for my Infertility I would have never stepped foot back into a church. Well, except for weddings and funerals.

I walked into my church about 1 month after being told that I had: "A practically zero percent chance of conceiving a child..."

I remember telling the doctor: "You're wrong."

I remember biting my lip, holding my head up high, walking out past the receptionists with the pity stares and making my way to my car.

I remember getting into my car putting the keys in the ignition and then I remember I started to hyperventilate.

I was crying so hard I couldn't catch my breath.

The sobs were loud and frequent and uncontrollable.

I tried to compose myself and started the car.

Through vision blurred by tears and bouts of uncontrollable sobs I somehow made it home.

After that I don't really remember every day or each thought.

I remember endless nights of crying myself to sleep and I remember a strong resolve coming over me to prove them wrong.

And that strong resolve I guess was really a glimmer of faith in disguise.

About a month later I found myself walking into church.

"Believe in me because I don't believe in anything and I want to be someone to believe" ~ Counting Crows

I remember after I had been going to church for a couple of months, I was at my "bestest" childhood friend M2's house and she was saying to me: "Well you must be looking for something if all the sudden you are going to church."

Your damn right I am.

I am looking for something.

Answers?

Faith?

Hope?

That allusive fucking reason?

So when I was at fellowship after church the other day and one of the members came up to me and said: "God has a plan for you."

I can't help but wonder what that plan is?

I can't help but wonder if I hadn't made the choices I made when I was younger. If I instead pursued motherhood in my 20's or 30's would that have ruined God's plan or would something have happened and I would be in the same exact place I am today even if I "played" it differently.

And what if God's plan isn't remotely what I've planned?

Do I then just live in misery trying to move forward with my plan but continually stuck because of God's plan?

What if God's plan doesn't include me being a mother?

Than I can no longer be a part of that plan.

I will not accept that fate.

What's the plan then?

Where's the faith?

And what is the fucking reason!

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for ~ U2

As I sat in church today celebrating Palm Sunday I still have my questions and yes I am still looking for something...

Could one man really make an Ark by hand that Elephants could walk on and it still float?

Hey, they made the pyramids...

Did Moses really part a sea?

Maybe my sandbar theory is correct.

But isn't it just as miraculous that they got to the sea at low tide, just in time to cross over and by the time their pursuant got there high tide came rolling in washing away the sandbar?

So there is a little part of me that might say:

Maybe this was part God's plan to find a way to get me back into church or to strengthen my faith.

But really right now in order to keep moving forward God...I could really use a sandbar.

Without incidence...

The Luck of the Irish!

Saint Patrick's Day 2010 is a day that is forever etched into my soul.

On Saint Patrick's Day 2010 I had my first miscarriage.

I was at work, bartending when it started.

At the time no one knew I was pregnant. No one knew I was even trying. No one knew of my struggles.

And no one knew I was miscarrying.

I had 8 hours to go of waiting on wall to wall people drunkenly celebrating.

And through my fake smiles and green glitter I was heartbroken.

I could feel my cramps intensifying with every hour and well, the rest, let's just say I am very happy that our uniform was black.

I made it through that night but a part of me died that day. A part I will never fully get back.

One year later on Saint Patrick's Day 2011 I was once again bartending.

A series of unfortunate incidences led me to be let go from that job.

A job a loved.

I ended up leaving my work family behind.

I would have to say that the Luck of the Irish has not been raining down on me in the Saint Paddy's Days Past.

But Saint Patrick's Day 2012 went off without incidence.

And although I secretly mourned the loss of my baby, I was surrounded by family and friends, green shirts, hats and sunglasses, good food and a sense that maybe, just maybe my luck might be changing.

Even the Outsiders have a place to go:

I did not read the supportive comments on Mel's post over PAIL.

I did not read the ugly comments over PAIL either.

In fact I've read very few posts on the subject at all.

I didn't need to.

All those feeling being expressed.

Feelings of hurt and loneliness.

Feelings of friendship and camaraderie.

Feelings of anger and bitterness.

Feelings of defiance and self righteousness.

Feelings of love and understanding.

All of these feelings are feelings that I have felt at one time or another from the moment I was told I would most likely never have children.

I have felt them when I started trying to conceive.

While reading blogs or reading comments.

While creating a post or listening to the sound of my own sorrow.

While embracing the journey or dreading the next step.

I have felt them all and I am sure you have too.

And to be honest I never really thought about the blogs of those who've crossed over.

If it was someone I followed. In spite of my own pain I was truly happy.

And sometimes I could read their posts on their pregnancies or their babies and sometimes I couldn't.

When I could I would envision myself in that place.

The days that I couldn't. I simply wouldn't. I wouldn't read.

And I know there are some bloggers who have made it to the other side and felt that there TTC blog was no longer appropriate. So they closed that blog and started a new one. And whether or not I followed I don't think was their concern. Well at least in my opinion it shouldn't have been.

Blogging is about where you are in your life and what you have to say regardless if anyone is listening.

And once again on the days when things were too rough for me, on the days it hurt too much.

I simply wouldn't read.

I don't think that I ever thought to myself: "They shouldn't be posting that! They should be considering my feelings."

No never. Not in blog land.

But I am not perfect. I have had my moments of bitter thoughts.

Thoughts that go like this:

Read line about breastfeeding..."Seriously! Fuck!"

Click close on my web browser.

Read line about a morning sickness complaint...scream in my head "Yeah!! Try the alternative!!"

Click close on my web browser.

No I am not perfect. Being the Outsider hurts.

But I never thought my hurt was because of those that have crossed over and that they weren't being supportive of me. I never blamed them for my feelings and I have tried to be as supportive as my emotions would allow.

And I also have moments like this:

Read a post about baby's first foods..."Wow, I am so going to try that with my baby."

Read a post about a toddler's antics..."I hope I'm ready for that!"

And those were the days that I read.

But to be honest if I wasn't already feeling like the little girl with her nose pressed up against the candy store window longing for what's inside.

Or staring with enormous want for the puppy behind the glass.

And if I didn't already feel like I was forever on the outside looking in.

I do now.

Well I should say I did.

I will admit that initially when the PAIL uproar started it seemed to bring all those feeling of being left out to the forefront for me.

Like the glass wall has literally been put up in between the "have's" and the "have nots".

Now the prize is being waved in front of my face instead of being a part of the process.

And it deepened these hurt feelings.

But after my last post about how being the one still struggling has left me feeling like an Outsider. After expressing all these feelings of hurt and loneliness, I received so many comments from those feeling the same way. Feeling as if we were left alone on the battlefield.

And these comments made me realize that I am not alone.

And it shows me that even the Outsiders have a place to go.

And I think maybe that's all PAIL is trying to do is release their feelings of being so utterly alone.

I'm not sure how I really feel about PAIL. It does bring me the feeling of there's a fort, right in my own backyard, with a giant sign on it that says: "Members Only".

I also know the feeling of trying to belong. And PAIL evolved from that feeling.

So I don't really know how I feel.

I feel alienation and understanding?

Here is one thing I do know after all this is:

Even the Outsiders aren't alone.

They have each other.

The Outsiders

There was a recent post that seems to have caused a lot of stir in the community.

When I read that post, I did not get offended at all.

It could be because I have lived in that place she was coming from.

It could be because I have felt the same kind of hurt and defeat that fueled that post. Not a defeat of giving up a dream but the defeat that only failed IVF cycles can bring.

And I am a little shocked at the backlash over this.

I am not going to link the post or mention the blogger.

I am just going to write about some of the issues that resonated with me.

Warriors come out and play...

When I first started out on this journey I felt so utterly alone.

I felt like I was the only one going through this.

I felt like there was no one out there who could possibly understand.

I felt like an Outsider.

I felt as if only I have ever had to face such a cold, harsh reality...

I may never have children.

It's a crippling fear and with the fight or flight instinct most of us choose to fight.

And I did choose to fight.

I fought like hell.

And I found a community of women fighting the same battle.

I had found my warriors.

I was no longer the Outsider.

The "fertiles" became the Outsiders because they would never know what it's like to fight and all they would ever be able to do is take it for granted.

And you could laugh it off when a "fertile" announced a pregnancy, complained about morning sickness or a talked about an "oops" pregnancy.

We could point to the Outsiders and actually feel sorry for them because they would never be able to appreciate what they have the way we, the warriors, could.

Because they didn't know. They have no clue of the magnitude of the situation and they could never understand. And we told ourselves we would care more, appreciate more and love stronger.

And your girls, your sisters, your warriors...they know. They fully understand. They are there in the trenches with you.

And there is this huge feeling of solidarity.

The feeling that we were all in this together.

We're all warriors fighting the same battle.

But what happens when you become battle weary?

We no longer get support?

Or when one of our sisters succeeds!

Sensitivity and compassion are lost?

You made it!

If it were me I would be screaming from the roof tops.

And you do!

And you should!

You should be over the moon happy and not feel the need to defend the means by which you got there.

Maybe it's something like "survivors guilt" which causes everyone's defenses to go up.

You fought so hard and you made it.

And I don't blame you. I don't fault you.

But for those of us left behind being within hearing range of that celebration magnifies our own battles. Our own losses.

It plunges us into a place where doubt of our ability to achieve the same success clouds our ability to truly embrace the victory.

"You can't win. You know that, don't you? It doesn't matter if you whip us, you'll still be where you were before, at the bottom. And we'll still be the lucky ones at the top with all the breaks. It doesn't matter. Greasers will still be Greasers and Socs will still be Socs. It doesn't matter." - The Outsiders

So now who becomes the Outsiders?

Those of us left behind?

Those of us still fighting?

Or those of us who have won the battle?

There is definitely dissention in the ranks.

A division among our own.

Aren't we the ones who are supposed to understand and show the most compassion?

Wasn't the Outsiders, the "fertiles" who were insensitive and didn't understand?

Weren't they the ones that callously threw around pregnancy and baby talk that ripped our hearts in two?

And now we are attacking our own because a limit has been reached?

This dissention, this division I didn't understand when I was a new soldier, ready fight and full of the promise of victory.

I remember early on in my journey one of girls left the community. I checked in on her to see if she was okay and she told me that all the new pregnancies and ultrasound pictures and baby talk was just too much for her to take.

I didn't understand. At the time all the talk and seeing your fellow sisters win gave me hope. It fueled my determination to keep going.

But Now...

After 10 cycles, 2 pregnancies and 2 miscarriages I also know the complete devastation that only IVF can bring.

Now...

Every BFP, every ultrasound, every complaint about morning sickness, every mention of bellies and nurseries fills the empty void within my being with the loss of a million dreams.

A pain so intense that it can bring me to my knees.

As happy as I am that our fellow "soldiers" were able to win the fight, it still hurts that I am still fighting. And it brings a whole new level of devastation that one could only imagine because unfortunately for us, those of us left behind, we must face the very real possibility that it may never happen for us.

It is beyond battle weary.

I myself have shouted from the roof tops that I would never give up.

But now...

I have felt many times that I was done with IVF. I have been angered and enraged that mine didn't work and I was putting myself through such physical and emotional torture. I was infuriated that I have spent nearly $50,000 (Oh yes you read that correctly) on treatments and my arms are still empty.

IVF has become a bone of contention for me.

I am contemplating my ability to charged into battle again.

And it makes me contemplate the risk of going forward with no guarantees.

I dread starting a cycle and all the shots and all the medications. I can see the effect it has had on my body and my appearance.

But I can also see IVF for the true miracle that it really is.

Really without it, what options would a single gal of "advanced maternal age" have?

On my last FET I remember watching these 3 shining dots on the ultrasound screen as they burst into my uterus like shooting stars and even though that FET failed I was overcome by the miracle of it all.

It blew me away.

But I am in full retreat right now.

And really it isn't whether or not I could face another failed cycle. I am actually more afraid of my cycle working and miscarrying again.

That I could not face.

And as I try to decide my next moves, I try to find my support base and realized that I have truly been left on the battle field alone.

My friends who have won, who have rightfully moved on to a place where this pain is a distant memory. I cannot join their ranks. I do not belong. And their celebration becomes my heartache.

I can't march with the new soldiers joining the fight. Their optimism becomes my dissention.

It really does becomes divided.

I wish it wasn't so.

So who are the Outsiders now?

"You can't win. ..you'll still be where you were before... It doesn't matter. Greasers will still be Greasers and Socs will still be Socs. It doesn't matter." - The Outsiders

In truth The Outsiders are the battle weary. The ones that are left behind.

*By the way I am not giving up, I am just trying to find the best way for me to achieve motherhood.

Time Machine

Somehow I woke up and it's now 1952*.

I am boggled.

I am perplexed.

I am disoriented.

I am suddenly thrust back in time where women's rights seem to be nothing but a distant dream.

Was I always in 1952?

Did the feminist movement not happen?

Did women not fight for their right to control their own bodies?

Did they not fight for the right to use birth control and get the screenings necessary for their health?

Did women not fight for the right to be treated equally?

Whether it is in the work place or on the battlefield, did women not only fight for but earn and deserve equality?

I thought we were well past the days of when a woman was violated and there was this notion of "she asked for it"

I thought those days were long gone!

Did we not fight for human rights too!

Where people weren't fired for their sexual orientation? Never mind having the company that hired them publicly petitioned to fire them based solely on their sexual preference.

Did we not already fight!

Or am I trapped in another time?

Did these things NOT happen?

Because all of the sudden I have a feeling the battle has just begun.

I'm not even quite sure in this parallel universe of 1952 in the midst of 2012 that I even have the right to vote.

Because lately I get the feeling that this Time Machine might bring us back to a place where those rights we fought so hard for will just vanish with one pull on the voting machine.

And much to my horror many of those thrusting us back into the dark ages are women themselves.

It seems like more and more not only women's right but human rights are taking pot shots left and right!

And this is probably the most deplorable of them all:

Fox Pundit Says Women In The Military Should ‘Expect’ To Be Raped

I am afraid that this Time Machine I am currently stuck in might bring us even further back.

Back to the middle ages or even worse...

Into a time where apparently there is an acceptable level of rape.

*Note - I randomly picked the year 1952. There is no historical basis for this year.

Rage against the Machine

When I was 16 I became sexually active. Some of you might gasp at this and others might nod their head in silent knowing but one thing that is not really up for debate in this post is whether or not teens should be or shouldn't be sexually active. I am sure all of us would wish that they weren't but for the sake of argument let's just stop turning the blind eye and trying to live in the idyllic world and just agree that back then, back in the 80's and now, in the 2000's that teens are having sex.

And in the 80's I was one of them.

But I had a place to go.

A place that didn't judge.

A place I felt safe to go to.

A place that educated me on protection against sexually transmitted disease and unwanted pregnancy.

A place that in their education highlighted that abstinence was the best form of protection.

But if I chose not to use abstinence then I could at least make an educated decision on how to protect myself.

This place didn't judge or push. They just gave me the facts and the options.

This place is Planned Parenthood.

When I graduated High School and went off to college I remained at that place because it was a place that provided me with the basic screenings and tests that I needed.

A place that provided me with pap smears.

A place I went to for breast exams.

A place where I could get birth control.

And this place provided these services to me on a sliding scale so that I could afford the healthcare I needed when I didn't have insurance.

This place is Planned Parenthood.

And this place made me safe and secure and healthy!

I couldn't imagine being a teen looking for guidance and help and not having the services of Planned Parenthood.

I couldn't imagine being a young adult trying to make my way through school and beyond without the services provided by Planned Parenthood to ensure my overall health.

There are a million undesirable scenarios that could arise if I did not have this place to go to.

But thanks to Planned Parenthood I didn't have to face those scenarios.

My rage against this political agenda to attack and defund Planned Parenthood runs deep.

They have been taking swings at women's health and it is time for us to swing back.

We need to take action and we need to do this by NOT voting for those who want to deny women basic healthcare and by NOT donating to or running in or fundraising for ANY organization that puts the needs of the women they claim to be supporting last on their political list!

This isn't about the "A" word as so many of your politicians want to make this about. This is about ALL women and about "ensuring quality care for all".

"ensuring quality care for all" taken right off the Susan G. Komen website. It is written right into their mission statement: "ensuring quality care for all"

So if that is the goal then why is there a sudden attack on a foundation that strives to do what the Susan G. Komen foundation cannot?

Planned Parenthood actually provides the care for all!

Katie over at "From IF to when" has a very spirited post on this. woman vs. woman: my response to komen

Go Katie!

And Mel over at Stirrup Queen in her post: "Susan G Komen, You Can’t Delete the Tweet" suggests that we all print out the Planned Parenthood at a Glance page in order to educate and inform those responsible for the attack on Planned Parenthood as to exactly what services are provided by Planned Parenthood.

And mail them to:
Karen Handel
Susan G Komen
5005 LBJ Freeway, Suite 250
Dallas, TX 75244

I am mailing mine today!

But I am going to take this one further and ask you to take note of those in Congress who are trying to do the same to women's health and those who stood by us. The next time you are at the polls make a conscious effort to vote for: "ensuring quality care for all"

Democrats who voted to defund Planned Parenthood:

Dan Boren, Okla.
Jerry Costello, Ill.
Joe Donnelly
Dan Lipinski, Ill.
Mike McIntyre, N.C.
Collin Peterson, Minn.
Nick Rahall, W.Va.
Silvestre Reyes, Tex.
Mike Ross, Ark.
Heath Shuler, N.C.

Republicans who voted to preserve Planned Parenthood funding:

Charlie Bass, N.H.
Judy Biggert, Ill.
Mary Bono-Mack, Calif.
Charlie Dent, Pa.
Robert Dold, Ill.
Richard Hanna, N.Y.
Rodney Frelinghuysen, N.J.

This is for every woman who needs a place to go and get quality healthcare!

And this could be why I am single....

I had left the dating scene a long time ago. It was absolutely too much to take. I tried all the online dating sites and it proved to be a case of "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" with it mostly being the latter. As a matter a fact I met very few "almost" good.

I went on dates where the guy would show up in sweat pants looking like he just mowed his lawn. Or talking on his cell phone the whole time. Or looking about 10 years older or 5 inches shorter than what was on his profile. Or trying to get "some action" on the first date (really fellas that needs to stop! Show some respect!). Or an ex convict who went to jail for 7 (no you are not reading that wrong), yes 7 years for armed robbery. I think once I was done lifting my chin off the ground my exact response was: "You're not planning on doing that tonight are you?".

And on and on and on...The Bad and the Ugly.

So I gave up. Closed my profile never to return.

And it's a good thing because I am pretty sure trying to have a baby would scare away any potential "Good" that might come my way and put a damper on any blossoming romance.

So I decided to pull out (ha! there might be a pun intended there!)

I decided early on in this journey that I was done with dating even though I still dream about the guy I would someday hopefully find. I even sat down and wrote on a piece of paper all of the qualities I am looking for in a man and sent it off into the universe. A ritual I know many women have done. S.I.F. and her friends did it on New Year's Eve over a year ago and some had some success. And my mother did it and she has been living with her boyfriend now for over a year.

I would write on my list things like: Just the right height for me, just the right age, handsome, funny, politically neutral (I need someone who sees both sides), loyal, faithful, active, open, honest, not allergic to cats (NYPD was allergic to cats and I chose the cats!), my best friend, loves me warts and all, and many other wonderful qualities I was looking for in a man.

And I would also put "walks through my front door" somewhat as a joke because I have no idea how I am ever going to meet a man unless he walks through my front door!

But alas... I have now used alas in a sentence on three posts! I think I need to work on the word "hence" next!...anyway...

But alas I have been writing about my ideal guy for over 2 years now and he's still a no show!

To be honest my exit from the dating world really hasn't been that bad. I mean after all for quite some time, I did have FB (aka the Itch Scratcher) and we let's just say having your itch scratched on a regular basis does take the edge off!

But as my journey progressed, the Itch Scratcher and I went our separate ways. I felt that if I was going to be with someone it should be something more. And now well, it's been quite some time since then and I am feeling well, let's say, a little more "itchy" than I anticipated. Definitely craving some male attention and a relationship. But I can't bring myself to subject myself to the online Freak Show.

So how is a gal supposed to meet someone.

Well, as I have said, I have no idea.

But I do know how not to meet someone and I do that with perfection...

About a year ago there was a gentleman doing a workshop at a school on retirement savings. I happen to be at that school that day on business. I overheard some of what he was presenting and afterwards I asked for his business card. I really didn't think much about it or take much notice of him. I just wanted information on retirement savings and what not. After all I was trying to have a baby and this was something I should have in place.

So I had contacted him via email but then never pursued it.

I ended up dumping my life saving into fertility treatments so focusing on IRAs went out the window.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago, I contacted him again to set up a meeting to go over some financial planning. I'm trying to get my head back above water.

I certainly couldn't take off of work for this meeting especially since I used to have all those fertility RE appointments that had me coming in late or leaving early. I figured now that I have given up my $50 + a week ultrasound habit and my $200 + a month meds habit that I could start saving and definitely wanted a meeting but taking off work was out.

He said he did meet with people after work at their homes so, I was meeting him Thursday at 5:00pm at my condo.

Now the day before I straightened up a little bit but I really could have done more. And in hindsight I really should have.

The day of the meeting I left work right on time so I could get home a little early but instead of rushing home to make sure my condo didn't look a mess, I decided to stop at the store and pick up a bottle of wine. You know, priorities!

So I was home maybe 2 minutes before the door bell rang and he was here.

Right away I noticed that he was cute and I thought "Wow, I don't remember Finance Guy being cute. He's probably married anyway."

I welcomed him in.

He was also greeted by these two:

Meet Calvin

Meet Runt

Calvin had decided to go off and hide like he does every time company arrives but Runt...no Runt has to be noticed.

The first thing Runt did was jump up on the chair that Finance Guy was going to sit in and sprawled out!

Laughing I said: "He likes to be the center of attention. I hope you're not allergic."

Finance Guy said he wasn't and sat down after I vacated Runt.

It was then that I noticed that one of two kitty culprits had kicked a ton of cat litter out of the box. It was driving me crazy sitting there looking at it. To the point that I got up and grabbed a broom and dust pan.

I said: "I'm sorry I just have to do something real quick." And I went over and swept up the litter sprinkled all over the floor and admitted to my embarrassment.

Now I was pretty sure I looked like the crazy cat lady who talks about her cats like they are people and doesn't clean their box. For the record I had cleaned their box the night before but somehow this day of all days one of them decided to do a jig inside the box!

But as I said I was pretty sure this guy was married (even though no ring) so I was really just concerned about looking "unclean".

As the meeting progressed Runt decide to come over and lay on the Finance Guy's feet and lick his shoe.

I have no idea why! To make me look even worse.

Finance Guy says: "Ummm your cat is licking my shoe."

I just shook my head, laughed and said: "He must really like you". Which in fact is a lie. Runt pretty much cozies up to anyone he thinks might feed him. I mean look at the size of this cat. Food is his only motive.

This is Runt's "Woes is me...I'm hungry!" pose

And then the Finance Guy reached down and started petting Runt and I thought that was nice and awkward.

So the meeting continued.

He was going over 401Ks, IRAs, Life Insurance and the difference between Term and Permanent.

He mentioned that for Life Insurance they would be going over all my medical records which prompted me to announce my infertility treatments.

Really? Why? Why would I mention such a thing. But I did.

And that wasn't all.

I talked about wanting a baby and on the counter was a basket of baby things I left out.

I think at one point there was a small mention of politics and I even mentioned Stockbroker boy who I dated many moons ago when the topic of stocks came up.

Once again WHY? I guess I was just trying to be funny or looking for something to say! Something stupid and embarrassing? I don't know but I couldn't stop.

He asked to use my bathroom. I should have run in there first to make sure there wasn't anything "unmentionable" just hanging out and to check the toilet for any undesirable marks (oh come on you know what I mean!) because once again I chose wine over a quick clean up. And there was of course unmentionables out on display! And I should have made sure Runt wasn't in the sink and he was!

So Finance Guy walks into this:

Runt's in the sink!

He's like: "Ummm...your cat is in here."

Now he was gracious when my cat was licking his shoe but I am pretty sure he didn't want my cat watching him pee!

So I go in there and try to hide shit as I am "oh so conspicuously" shoving the box of tampons under my sink and getting my cat out of the sink.

I'm like: "Oh, he likes water"

Which Runt does but there I go again talking about my cat like he's a person.

Finance Guy pees and then the meeting commences....

At one point the conversation turned to taxes and I said that because I am single I get completely raped with how much I pay in taxes. I have no deductibles. I was going on about how it would be nice for the government to give singles a tax break. A "Thank you for not clogging up the divorce courts" tax break.

Finance Guy was laughing and then said: "I know what you mean. I'm single too."

What What What!!

It was then that I noticed how cute Finance Guy really is and how not cute I was looking. No make-up (which I rarely have on but still)! I have gained what I call my undesirable "non baby" weight and since going through this journey due to non-stop meds that alter your shape and your appearance well, I have been feeling like I've lost my pretty . And in this moment of realization I knew I was not sporting my pretty.

It was then that I also realized all of the stupid things I said that I would have never said if I had known he was single....And it was then that I realized that he is pretty much everything I wrote down on my little list of what I was looking for in a man including "Walking through my front door".

But I am pretty sure that even if let's say for one second Finance Guy did find me attractive (which I highly doubt)...I rapidly put the kabosh on that as soon as he walked in the door with the antics of my cat, the litter, the tampons and then made sure of it throughout the rest of the conversation about babies, politics, guys I've dated, fertility, the money I've spent on it...I think at one point my comment was: "If you knew how much I'd spent you'd jump out that window".

So let's go over what you shouldn't do when a single man does magically walk through your front door.

Don't:

1. Assume they are married.
2. Not clean up! Litter and bathroom!
3. Stop for wine - Okay that's just crazy! Make sure you are stocked up ahead of time!
4. Clean up in front of them.
5. Look like the crazy cat lady.
6. Talk politics.
7. Talk about men you've dated.
8. Talk about your infertility.
9. Talk about babies.

I will say this though, when Finance Guy was walking out, he said goodbye to Runt and then said: "A friendly cat that likes water. Interesting."

And he was gone and I was so glad I had that bottle of wine!

So we know this much...Runt knows how to make a good impression. I only wish I did.

Notice Runt's Heart Shaped Marking

Me trying to be silly at Thanksgiving

A better place...

When I walked into Saint Clair's Hospital at 6am on November 17th 2011, I was not in a good place.

As I sat there being registered for my Out Patient surgery, I was not in a good place.

Each question the staff member asked I answered without thought, without emotion, without truly being present. I was not there. I was somewhere else and it was not a good place.

And then he asked me "Religion?".

I think for the first time I looked up. I looked at him. I really didn't want to look at anyone. I thought if I looked at someone, if I caught their eye, then they would know. They would know that I lost my baby and I was there for a D&C.

When my sister drove me there and dropped me off, I know for the whole car ride I didn't look at her.

I walked the halls with my head down and I didn't look up as sat there answering this man's questions:

"Name?"

"Address?"

"Birth date?"

Until...until he said: "Religion?"

Then I looked up. I looked at him and I said: "What?"

He said: "Religion?"

"Oh"

Pause...

"Yeah"

Pause... as if I was really thinking about it. Or as if he asked me that question in a foreign language and I was still somehow trying to translate it.

Looking away. Looking down again. Then looking up.

I said as almost an afterthought: "None."

Even though I knew it was a lie. Even though I knew that just a week and a half ago I sat in church beaming, smiling from ear to ear and thanking God for the wonderful gift growing inside of me. Even though only 4 days ago I sat in church praying to God to be able to keep my baby. And even though I knew I would be back in church the following Sunday trying to come to terms with this.

At that moment, in that place, I didn't feel any of it. I felt strangely numb. I felt nothing so I said:

"None."

And I watched him type it in.

I walked down the hall to the elevator. Went to the 2nd floor, proceeded left towards the nurse's station for Out Patient surgery the whole time clinging to my piece of paper that declared "Religion: None".

I even stopped and took a picture of it on my phone. I don't know why. As a reminder? In case I forgot or in case I wanted proof that at that moment, in that place, in that bad place, I declared "None".

Because I had nothing left inside. My baby had stopped growing and I was walking down the hall to be admitted for a surgery that was going to remove what was left.

I was in a bad place and I wanted God to know that in this bad place I said: "None".

The rest of the day was as if I was in a dream.

I was in some faraway place when they put my IV in. Some far off place when they wheeled me to the "holding area" where I waited for Dr. O to come in and take me to the OR.

I was trying not to look at anyone. Trying not to cry and trying to pretend I wasn't in that place.

And then Dr. O came in and walked up to me.

That's when I looked at him. I looked at him with the tears starting to fill my eyes and I begged him to perform every test he could think of because I never wanted to be in that place again.

He took his thumb and wiped away that one tear that somehow got away and rolled down my cheek as he promised to do the tests.

Then everything went back into this dream like state as Dr. O wheeled me into the OR...as they moved me to the operating table and started "plugging me in"...as they placed my legs in the stirrups and strapped them down...as the anesthesiologist was getting ready to put me to sleep and as one overly sympathetic and somewhat annoying nurse kept rubbing my arm and trying to look directly into my eyes.

I kept trying to look away from her and all I kept thinking was "Okay, I get it. Your compassionate!"

"Damn I wish this anesthesia would kick in!"

And it did. And I was off to another place. A place of forgetting. Even if it was only for a little while.

The very next day I went back to work. I had to be in a place where I wasn't thinking about it. Where things were I guess you could say "normal". I need to be in a normal place.

But as the day progressed I could feel the pain of the surgery I had less than 24 hours ago. It was a constant reminder of the place I was really in.

I went through the holidays in a very emotional place but trying to show the world I was in a strong place.

And I tried to avoid any place where there was talk of babies or pregnancy.

I couldn't take it. It hurt too much.

But it didn't matter because the news of babies and pregnancies followed me everywhere like a ghost.

A ghost of my pregnancies past that never ended with a baby where everyone else's did.

And I wasn't even in a place to say "Congratulations" or support friends who were finally in the place I so longed to be.

I was angry and hurt and shocked. I was in disbelief and in constant emotional and spiritual pain.

I was not in a good place and I knew it.

But I didn't care.

I pushed forward in an attempt to move on.

I pushed forward in an attempt to ignore the pain.

I pushed forward because I didn't know what else to do.

And I just so desperately wanted to get back to a better place. Back to the place where I was beaming in church.

So I pushed to do my FET right away.

I had 3 frozen embryos from my IVF cycle.

I also have 5 frozen donor embryos which became available just days after my miscarriage. I was so afraid (and so certain) that my FET with my 3 frozen embryos wasn't going to work that I panicked and grabbed the 5 right away. I had to make sure I was in a place to cycle again when my FET would inevitably fail.

I put myself in a place of contempt for my FET.

I was so down that I had convinced myself there was no way my FET could work.

I am a numbers gal and sided on the law of averages and statistics. I figured there was no way I could "hit it out of the park" after just getting pregnant on my last cycle. I figured I was bound to strike out.

I kept telling myself that when the FET doesn't work I can always try again with the 5 frozen donor embryos.

I was just going through the motions. I wanted to get it over with.

I wasn't in a place of excitement and possibility as I had been just 3 months earlier.

But what I really wanted more than anything was for it work and put me back in the place where I was going to be mom.

But just like I predicted my FET did not work. I transferred 3 beautiful embryos and I am not pregnant.

And then I found myself in a place I never thought I would be in...a place of giving up. A place where I can't imagine cycling again and putting myself through it all again.

It could be because I'm not ready. It could be because I am still in a place of mourning.

I need to be in a better place in order to move forward. I know that. But I'm not sure how to get there.

And then out of a place where friendships and camaraderie are born from struggle something amazing happened...

Some absolutely, beyond incredible women contacted me offering to donate their remaining embryos to me.

Their offer has touched a very deep place in my heart and in my soul.

Knowing that there are people in this world that are so willing to open themselves up to help another already puts me in a better place.

It puts me in their world and I am honored.

And suddenly, I'm feeling my fight coming back. I slowly feel myself moving into a place a hope.

I feel myself finding a better place.