Round and Round…

*Note - In order for me to move forward. To move past the pain of loss and continue on my journey to motherhood, I need to revisit the past to find my future. This is the past.

After 5 grueling blood tests resulting in a satisfactory beta, Dr. Doom scheduled me for my 1st ultrasound only two days later. I felt it was too soon. I asked if it was too soon. He told me that they should be able to see a pregnancy sac by now and that is what he would be looking for.

I was nervous but I was thrilled (which is an understatement! I was f*%ing over the moon!). My betas rose appropriately and it was at a level that corresponded with being 5 1/2 weeks pregnant. I was pregnant. I knew I was pregnant and I felt pregnant. I celebrated by going out and buying a pregnancy journal on the advice of BFF M and started immediately writing in it. I told BBF V whose reaction was to say “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” literally a hundred times through her tears of happiness and I told my mom.

Telling my mom was one of the best experiences. My mom, Sissy L and I were going out to lunch that day. We all met at my condo. My mom didn’t know about my struggles and TTC. There were so many times I so desperately wanted to tell her and there were so many times that I needed her but now, now I could tell her I did it!

We were all sitting in my living room when I went into my bedroom and came out with my baby basket. A basket I have been filling with baby stuff since my TTC journey began.

She looked at it and then she looked at me and then the basket and then me. I smiled and said “I’M PREGNANT!” and she jumped up and down hugging me and then said “Wait a minute, wait a minute…how did this happen?” Of course Sissy L and I had a laugh teasing my mom about the “birds and the bees” and then I went into a condensed version of my journey. I told her about my betas and Dr. Doom. She said “Don’t worry about that ass. You are pregnant. He was wrong when he said you couldn’t get pregnant right? Idiot!” We proceeded to go out to lunch with giant smiles on all of our faces.

I went in 2 days later. The Face Nurse wasn’t there that day. Another nurse Cecilia took my blood. Cecilia was a very sweet, kind woman. I remember her saying to me after she drew my blood “You are going to see your baby today. Aren’t you excited?” I smiled and said yes, but the truth was I was more terrified than excited.

I went through the ritual; pants off, paper napkin around your waist, feet in stirrups and I skootched all the way down so my butt was almost hanging off the edge.

Dr. Doom came in with Cecilia and proceeded with my internal ultrasound. He seems to be visibly agitated as he increasingly became more “aggressive” with the “probe” and then he said he was having trouble finding the sac. I don’t think at this time my heart was beating or I was breathing. I just kept praying as Dr. Doom rammed the “probe” around inside my cookie while he let out sighs of frustration. After a series of “Ugghs” he then removed the “probe” and printed out the picture of my baby from the ultrasound machine. I sat up. He showed me the picture. He pointed out how small my sac was stating that “This could mean the pregnancy isn’t viable or it could turn out to be a healthy pregnancy.” He told me that they would check my beta and see if it doubled again and that I need to come back for another beta in 2 days…just when I thought I had won, they throw me back into the beta game. He said he would call me later that day to let me know the results and just like that I’m back in the waiting game too.

And then he did something that made my heart sink…he stuck the picture of my ultrasound (of my baby as small as she may be) into his pocket and walked out.

I went home to wait for his call.

What goes up…

*Note - In order for me to move forward. To move past the pain of loss and continue on my journey to motherhood, I need to revisit the past to find my future. This is the past...

Are you ready to play TTTThhhhe Beta Game?

(Beta is a blood test to check the levels of HCG (the Pregnancy Hormone) in the blood. These levels must rise accordingly and hit certain levels…Honestly I didn’t know any of this shit either until I started TTC)

Here are the rules:

1. Need to have a beta higher than 5 to be considered pregnant. Most REs want a starting beta of 50. Most HPTs will pick up a beta of 25 and higher. Digital HPTs are 50 and higher.
2. Your beta should double every 48 hours.
3. Most REs will do 2 betas to see if it is rising and then have you come back for an ultrasound 2 weeks later.
4. Your beta needs to be over 2,000 to see anything on an ultrasound.

Now let’s play!

Contestant #1 has started with a beta of 27. Although Dr. Doom and the Face Nurse shook their heads in dismay it was enough to get her into the game. Yes, she was indeed pregnant!

The next move comes from Dr. Doom and he’s playing it safe and requesting another beta. Will it double?

Anxiously Contestant #1 sits down as the Face Nurse draws her blood.

On a side note - Now that the Face Nurse has un-scrunched her face she feels the need to talk about her husband and kids while drawing my blood. Great! That’s just what every single gal sitting in a fertility clinic wants to hear.

The waiting is the hardest part…

And now the wait begins. You get your beta done in the morning before 9am and then you have to wait until the afternoon before Dr. Doom would call with the results. The stress of waiting was one of the hardest parts. I felt like my insides were completely tangled. I would take HPT test after HPT test just to make sure I was still pregnant. I was obsessed. When Dr. Doom would call I felt like I was out of my body talking in this breathless, babbling voice. On day he called really early and my sister had said “Maybe he calls early when it’s good news and later when it’s bad”. Well, “sure shit enough” my very next beta he didn’t call until later. I was positive it was bad news. When he did finally call and it was good news, I just started rambling about my sister and I am pretty sure I referred to him as Dr. Doom. I was completely crazed! I did this over the next 10 days! And just to clarify, I am pretty sure the doctor calls when he is done with his patients for the day. Not at some deviously picked time to inflict pain on those waiting for results (hmmm or do they?)

So yes, beta #2 was a 74!!! Ding Ding Ding!! More than double but wait…Dr. Doom wanted another beta? And another beta? And another beta? So Contestant #1 had to go back 2 days later for beta #3 and 2 days later for beta #4 and 2 days later for beta #5.

By #5 my beta was over a 1,000. For anyone keeping track that means it was more than doubling in the 48 hour time spans and me well I was really getting sick of seeing Dr. Doom and the Face Nurse.

I am not sure why Dr. Doom kept having me come in because each time my beta doubled. Each beta was pure torture. Maybe Dr. Doom liked torturing me? But little did I know that Dr. Doom had nothing on his partner Dr. Darth Vader whom I was about to meet under the worst of circumstances…

Put on a Happy Face!

*Note - In order for me to move forward. To move past the last year of dedicating myself to TTC. To find my way and now dedicate myself to becoming a mom...I need to revisit the past to find my future...

A blast from the past continues...

Turn that frown upside down (or at least un-scrunch your face!)

And that’s exactly what the Face Nurse did when I walked into Dr. Dooms office on February 19th 2010. You see the only time you would go in for a beta with Dr. Doom was if you didn’t get Leroy by 15 days past your IUI. Leroy at the time was a very punctual visitor. On time every time (well at least until I started doing IVF). So for all my other IUIs by day 13 there was Leroy dashing my hopes. Not this time. Day 14. No Leroy…hmmm…I decided for the 1st time to POAS. The results were well, there weren’t any results. I had a faulty HPT. I finally decided to POAS and my HPT never gave me a control line. As a matter of fact it never gave my any line at all. And this is where this gets a little weird:

You have entered the Twilight Zone

The night before Leroy came after my 3rd IUI I went to bed repeating a certain mantra. I try to follow the teachings of Louis Hay. You can google her to get more information but her teaching have a lot to do with positive thoughts, positive mantras and loving oneself. So I was repeating the mantra “Everything I need to know is revealed to me” in the hopes that I might get a glimpse of whether or not I was pregnant. I fell asleep and had this dream. In this dream I took an HPT. I carefully peed on the stick, held it up to view the results and I watched as the window where you are supposed to get the lines turned pink. The pink dye kept filling up the window and I couldn’t tell if there were any lines and I said “What the hell does that mean” and a voice said: “It means you’re pregnant” and at that moment I woke up to a visit from Leroy. Clearly not pregnant.

But what happened in my dream is exactly what happened when I POAS after my 4th IUI. The whole thing went pink.

So, the next day I was expecting to wake up to Leroy but I didn’t so I went in for my beta. When I walked into the office the Face Nurse said to me “What are you doing here?” (with an exaggerated questionable look on her face) and I said: “I still haven’t gotten my period” That is when for the 1st time her face un-scrunched, she made a “Ohhh….” Face and then gave me a half smile and said “Let’s find out”. She took my blood and I went home to wait for the call.

Some people never change

Although the Face Nurse became a positive reinforcement, Dr. Doom kept living up to his name. He called me with my results. My beta was 27. 27 is a little low. There was cause for concern but I was pregnant with a good chance. So, instead of saying “Congratulations you’re pregnant”, Dr. Doom says to me: “Well, I am not going to say Congratulations you’re pregnant until I see your beta rising. So what I will say is that there has been fertilization and implantation. And we will see”. I hung up the phone pissed and scared.

Little did I know that I was about to experience happiness beyond measure, a despair beyond repair and end up peeing on a lot of sticks!

My Funny Valentine…

But I wanted to be your valentine (Words can't say what a love can do)…

One of the things I need to do before I move on is revisit where I've been:

A year ago on February 14th, Valentine’s Day fell on a Sunday. Being single, I didn’t have any plans. Nowhere to go, no flowers, nothing to do but to be bombarded by constant “valentine” reminders of my single status. V called and asked if I wanted to go out to dinner. Well more like insisted because that is how V is. She knew I would be home alone so she called and said “Come out to dinner with me. You have to come out”. So I did. It was 10 days after my 4th IUI.

At the time I was going to Dr. Doom and the Face Nurse! I called him Dr. Doom because he never once gave me any encouragement. I had to fight with him to try something beside Clomid. When I finally got him to prescribe me injectables for my 4th IUI he made a point of letting me know that he was only doing it to humor me because “The reality is you have a practically zero percent chance of conceiving”.

It didn’t matter. I still walked out of his office triumphant knowing that I was fighting for a chance…any chance…my chance.

I called her "the Face Nurse" b/c she would always give you some kind of face. It was that half smile with her face scrunched up look while she would shake her head like "Yeah your test results weren't good!" "Better luck next time."

I wasn’t blogging at the time but I was posting regularly on the Fertile Thoughts Board. I thought I would share with you what I posted that day about my 4th IUI:

"Well I am officially PUPO. I had my IUI this morning. I was still in a blah mood driving to the clinic this morning, trying to cheer myself up with the promise of an Egg and Cheese sandwich from my favorite deli. Didn't help much. When I got to the clinic and I was going into the room for my IUI, I saw Dr. Doom. He's normally at the other office so I was like "F@$%k, can't I ever get away from this guy" and then the nurse came in and told me the Physician's Assistant Patti would be doing my IUI (and I like her...she warms the speculum!). So I stripped down, put my pink, paper napkin on, somewhat cheerful, and then the knock on the door...Dr. Doom comes in to do my IUI. He seemed to be being overly nice to me for some reason...there's no need for small talk!...even when he was downtown doing my IUI he keep asking me if I was okay and how I was doing. He performed my 1st IUI and he wasn't THAT nice. Actually my 1st IUI hurt! This one I didn't feel a thing! So, now it's done and the nurse says "Good Luck" and then Dr. Doom put his hand on my knee (feet still in stirrups) and pats my knee and says "Good Luck". Its bad enough I have to have his face between my legs, now he's touching my knee! Ughhh! As soon as he walked out the door I flicked him the bird!! I then proceeded to laugh uncontrollable for a couple of minutes before the laughter turned into tears! So now I'm on my back with a pink napkin around my naked waste with tears streaming down my face...not really the way I imagined getting pregnant (but I definitely felt f$#%ked)...Now, if I do get pregnant from this IUI...Should I pat Dr. Doom on the a%@ and say "Thank you"!!!!"

So my 4th IUI went something like that and 10 days later I was out to dinner with V on Valentine’s Day. We were indulging in some kind of crab entrée when V leans in and says to me “Your boobs look bigger.” I said “They do not.” And V says “I’ve known you for a long time and I am telling you, your boobs look bigger.” I told her she was crazy and continued with my indulgence. At some point during our meal, probably between the entrée and the dessert, I went to the bathroom. I was leaning over the sink washing my hands and I looked up into the mirror. In that moment I thought “Holy shit, my boobs really do look bigger”. 5 days later I found out I was pregnant.

The best laid plans…

From the moment I started TTC, I’ve had some kind of plan. Even if that plan was prayer (or begging the two are pretty synonymous) I knew I would keep moving forward on my journey. So, I spent a lot of time making sure I had a solid Alternate Path. It wasn’t easy but I was confident that if my last IVF cycle didn’t work, if Whiffer returned, that I would take a day or two to grieve and then proudly announce my Alternate Path without missing a beat. It turned out not to be that simple.

I’ve fallen and I can’t get up…

Is pretty much how I’ve felt this last week and a half. I’ve been in a lot of pain; both physically (damn Leroy) and emotionally. I have been second guessing my Alternate Path. I’ve starting trying to figure out ways to cycle again. To give it another shot with my eggs. I started freaking out at the thought of not cycling again. I wasn’t letting go even though I thought I already had. I was holding on. I started looking at new Paths. Making calls, googling and then I started thinking that maybe God doesn’t want me to be a mother. That he is doing everything in his power to prevent it. Maybe I should just abide by his wishes. Maybe he is preventing it because I would be a terrible mother. Yes, I even went there. I went to the deepest, darkest places of Lostville. It is not what I had planned.

I have become “uncomfortably” numb…

I have been so consumed with grief and sadness. Overwhelmed with fear and lost in my thoughts that I am almost numb. I have no focus. I can’t even seem to find a way to complete a post. I wanted to write a simple post thanking all of you wonderful ladies for the incredible amount of support you have shown me. I planned on posting it a few days after I found out I wasn’t pregnant (although I knew way before my beta) and it’s taken me over a week just to sit down and start typing. Not what I had planned. None of how I am feeling is what I had planned…

"We're not giving up; we're waiting for a better chance to win." ~ McMaster Bujold

I would like to rephrase that quote to “I’m not giving up; I’m waiting for a better chance to win."

As much as everything that I have been feeling is not what I had planned, it has bought me back full circle. I have gone through these emotional before, I have grieved, I have cried,  I have fallen and I have gotten up. And in the end I have come to the same conclusion as I did that day Dr. Doom gave me "A practically zero percent chance of conceiving". I decided to fight but this time I am fighting to become a mother no matter what. I am going to follow my Alternate Path. I am going to announce my Alternate Plan with pride and not miss a beat (well maybe one or two). I now have a plan. But there are a couple of things I need to do first…

Whomp, Whomp, Whomp....

I am not pregnant and I am not okay. I don't know if I will ever be okay.

We don’t get fooled again!!

What are the chances...

I DON’T BELIEVE IN SIGNS!!

After my 2nd IVF cycle failed I was crushed. I believed every last leaf blowing in the wind to be some kind of sign that I was pregnant. Now to be fair I did have some compelling signs but alas (I always wanted to use the word alas in a sentence!) they were just mere coincidences.

So now when I came home the other night and I found a package on my doorstep address to me and that package was a free sample of Similac Baby Formula I have to make sure that I DO NOT TAKE IT AS A SIGN!!

I sometimes participate in focus groups for extra money. You have to qualify for the focus group. To determine your eligibility they conduct a survey. When I went online to take the latest survey and that survey had questions like: “Are you a first time mother?” “Are you currently pregnant?” etc. I said to myself: I REFUSE TO TAKE THAT AS A SIGN!! And the fact that I (without hesitation) answered yes to those questions DOES NOT MEAN IT IS A SIGN!!

I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend…

AND I DON’T BELIEVE ANY SYMPTOMS OR NON SYMPTOMS!!

In order to “not get fooled again” I will be spending my 2ww talking myself off the ledge! For whatever I am feeling or not feeling, I will give the symptom and a logical explanation. For those of you at home you can play along and enter your symptom and logical explanation!

My boobs are sore – Why yes, yes they are! That is because you are shoving progesterone up your cookie 3 times a day!!! Or it’s because you won’t stop touching them!!

My boobs look veiny – Your natural skin tone is a purplish pink. It takes you a weeks worth of tanning just to get white. Of course your boobs look veiny! You are clear! You can see every vein coursing through your body!

I feel twinges – IT’S PROBABLY GAS once again from the progesterone that is leaking out of every pore!! Or at least leaking out of your cookie non-stop every day all day long!!

I have some craps – Which is probably a giant poop! WHICH IS FROM THE GAS! Which is from the progesterone!!

I have heartburn – Ever since you turned 35 you ALWAYS HAVE HEARTBURN! Go to a doctor already for Christ’s sake!!

I can’t stop eating – Yeah dexamethasone will do that to you! *It’s a steroid that they put you on at the start of your IVF cycle. I have been on it for over a month now and I have the extra weight to prove it! So all day long I am shoveling food down my throat!

My cervix feels high – Quit playing with yourself!! Or at least checking…you have no idea what you are looking for so stop it!

I got a zit on my chin – Well you have been shoveling crap food down your throat for the last month. It was bound to catch up with you!

I’m tired – You work two jobs (really three) and you have had this workaholic behavior all your life so you are ALWAYS tired!!

The Math is NOT in my favor – Really? Do you really know every women going through IVF at the same time as you so you can actually statistically determine whether it will work for you or not? You’re not Doing the Math! You’re guessing the Math!

I’m feeling frisky – Which leads me to believe Leroy is on his way and it didn’t work. Or it’s because you keep touching yourself!! No wonder you’re frisky!!

I don’t feel anything – It’s microscopic!! How are you supposed to feel microscopic?

I don’t have any symptoms and all the other women who got BFPs felt twinges or cramps or sore boobs – Yeah they probably did and most likely it was GAS, causing a GIANT POOP, they were touching themselves or it is all a side effect from too much progesterone that they all mistook as a symptom!!

I did 3 IVF cycles and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt:

Maybe what should happen is on the day you get your transfer, as soon as the RE puts your little embabies back you hear either a “Ding, Ding, Ding…” bell signaling that it worked or a loud “EEEETTTT” or “Whomp, whomp, whomp” indicating defeat.

This way you know. You know right away. It really is like spinning a wheel except you have to wait 2 weeks before the wheel stops.

If only you could know as soon as you transfer, this way you wouldn’t be analyzing every little zit and every little shit and every little fart in the wind as being some kind of sign!

Mamma said, PUPO and Firemen?

This will be my 2nd post that I felt the need to put a disclaimer on. All I have to say is that this post is full of TMI!!

Giving myself a helping hand:

After my disastrous ER I called my mom. My mom always knows the right things to say. She immediately made me feel better.

But there was one thing I never thought I would hear her say.

The next day I called my mom to give her my fertilization report. All three of my embryos fertilized. We were thrilled. I told her my transfer would be on Thursday and then she says the “unsayable” to me:

Mom: “Remember the last time it said on your instructions that you should have sex the night before your transfer”

Me: “Ummm…Yes?”

Mom: “Well I think you should do it.”

Me: “HUH!!”

Mom: “You know. Give yourself an orgasm.”

Me: “MOM!!”

Mom: “No seriously. I think there is something to it. Maybe it makes you more relaxed or does something in the uterus to help the embryos stick. You really should do it. What could it hurt? What’s the worst that could happen…you get an orgasm?”

That is a conversation I never thought I would have with my mom.

Now I know they say you AREN’T supposed to have intercourse and/or orgasms AFTER your transfer but they do recommend intercourse the night BEFORE your transfer…hmmmm….maybe there is something to it…so…

The night before my transfer I was lying on the couch watching TV and I started thinking about what my mom said. I was like:

“Should I?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“I could?”

“Am I in the mood?”

“A little”.

“I could.”

“Like mom said…What could it hurt?”

“Hmmm I could….”

So I did…and I was pleasantly surprised because it was quick and efficient and quite pleasurable.

Then I went back and read my instructions:

Have intercourse in the evening prior to embryo transfer, but only if you are feeling comfortable. The prostaglandins in the sperm are believed to help with implantation.

The what in the what? In the sperm…what?…ohhhhhh… it has nothing to do with the BIG O!

Now you might be saying to yourself: “You could have checked the instructions before you did the deed” and yes that is true but just like Mama said: “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Give me a P!!! Give me a U!!! Give me a P!!! Give me an O!!!

Yes, as of 12:45 Thursday afternoon I became officially PUPO (Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise). And it actually feels good. There were so many times in this cycle where I really thought I wasn’t even going to make it to transfer. But I did and Dr. Wow transferred all 3 embryos. He told me that my embabies looked really good. That one was a Grade 1 (that is the best!) and 2 were Grade 2 (2nd best!). This is the 1st time I got a Grade 1. It really made me happy to know that I might have a chance.

I know what you did last night…

The procedure was pretty smooth. But there was a small part of me that was thinking: “Can he tell?” I mean he is right there. Is it possible to tell?

There was one moment in the transfer when I thought things weren’t going well. When you have a transfer the RE places the embryos into your uterus but using a catheter that needs to be threaded through your cervix. They do an external ultrasound on your abdomen and it is that ultrasound screen the RE looks at for placement. You need to have a full bladder because it increases visibility on the ultrasound.

When they started the procedure, Dr. Wow looked up at the ultrasound screen and says: “Your bladder really isn’t that full” and for a split second I swear I thought he was going to say: “Did you have an orgasm last night?”

I was like: “Really, I drank a lot of water.”

He said: “It’s okay. I can see but I’m having a hard time getting a picture for you.”

I told him: “I really didn’t care if you get the picture as long as you get the embryos in”

AND I thought to myself “And long as you can tell what I did last night!”

Burning down the house…

Well not exactly but at 8:30pm Thursday night my Carbon Monoxide detector started going off. I silenced it. It went off again. I silenced it again. I did have this happen one other time. The alarm went off on Thanksgiving and the battery was dead BUT I changed the battery after that and it hasn’t gone off since. So why is it going off now? I opened the windows. It kept going off. I waited 20 minutes. I was still going off. I very apologetically called 911. I was advised to get out and wait for the fire department. I really didn’t want the whole big scene but I didn’t have any choice. They were on their way. I went outside and waited. The firemen came. 4 to be exact and 1 police officer. I kept apologizing because I felt like an ass calling them but I wanted to be safe. I wanted to go to bed but more importantly I wanted to wake up in the morning. After all I was PUPO. I had to think of my little embabies too.

They checked out my condo with their gadgets. It was negative for any presence of Carbon Monoxide. So why was my alarm going off? Then the one fireman told me that my alarm was over 10 years old and needed to be replaced. Basically my alarm was broken. I really felt like an idiot then. I smiled and apologized again as they filed out.

Now I am not sure but I doubt they were all as hot as I made them out to be in my head but if I wasn’t PUPO I might have helped myself out again!!

Making Eggs and Eggless in New Jersey!

Making Eggs…

Throughout this journey towards motherhood (and this journey through life) I always try to inject a little humor into any given situation. My humor might fall on the side of sarcasm but it is always all in good fun and something definitely needed when things aren’t going the way you thought they would. After all I truly believe that Laughter IS the Best Medicine.

Laughter and Loudness is a family trait. I’m loud, my mom’s loud (though she is the quiet one of the bunch) my sisters are loud, my cousins are loud, my aunt’s loud and we are all VERY, VERY animated. All stories are told with visual demonstrations and sound effects.

It is completely evident at family gatherings as we all take turns telling humorous stories about the people we’ve encountered, ridiculous things we might have done or said, driving stories, funny sighting, even Sasquatch sightings (yes, that is for my nephew Adam…we both have Sasquatch sighting stories…hmm must run in the family). And all the while we are talking over each other or jumping in with one-liners as our laughter and voices rise. It even gets to the point where my mom raises her hand and jumps up and down declaring: “I got one! I got one!” And then she’ll get up and act out this hilarious story that has us in stitches no matter how many times we’ve heard it!

I am pretty sure that’s where I get my sense of humor from. My mom's always telling me: “You should do stand-up! You’re so funny!” and I tell her: “Just because my mom thinks I’m funny doesn’t mean that I am” I could just see it now…me doing stand-up and nobody laughing of course except for my mom in the back of the audience!

So laughter is how I get through the day.

Since I started my IVF journey, I’ve had this running little joke…due to the fact that I’m not really doing it all that well and my efforts results in so very few…I joke that when I am cycling I am busy Making Eggs!

I’ll go on saying things like: “It’s exhausting making eggs!” or “I’m just gonna go home and make some eggs!”

Sissy L plays along and she’ll go: “Whatcha doing?” and I’ll respond: “I’m making eggs!”

Sissy L: “Where you going?”

Me: “Home to make some eggs”

Yes, I know silly and funny. Well at least to me and Sissy L it’s funny. But then again Sissy L is easily amused!

“Making eggs” is my little “ha ha” fun with IVF moment…hmm…Fun with IVF…do I see the potential board game in the future?

So on my last RE visit to check my follies, Dr. Wow came in, looked at my chart and says “Okay, well you are not over-stimulating but at least you’re Making Eggs”. Now of course I laughed a little too hard at this (is my crush showing?) But then I thought: “Hey wait a second, this guy is stealing my shtick!” Like the correlation between IVF and Making Eggs is some kind of comic genius! But either way Dr. Wow still found a way to make me feel good about my lack of eggs.

But unfortunately that didn’t last too long…

At my visit with Dr. Wow he told me to trigger that night (Saturday) with my ER on Monday. I had a sneaky suspicion (or maybe it was my eggstincts!! HA! HA!! Wow that was bad but I couldn't resist) that due to the fact Dr. Wow was in on the weekend I would end up with Dr. Corny on Monday. And, of course I was right.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire…

This morning when I got up everything seemed a little weird or surreal. I don’t know how to explain it but I knew things weren’t going to turn out good…I just knew it (maybe it was my damn eggstincts again! Okay not funny anymore but I had to take one more crack {ha!} at it!).

Sissy L drove me and we spent the whole morning joking around. While I was waiting for my procedure to start we had a grand old time laughing about this:

The Universal Pain Assessment Tool (Wong-Baker Facial Grimace Scale):

Yes this is on the wall in the prep room! Yes it took 2 doctors to come up with this! And apparently its Universal b/c they have it is 5 different languages! Now this is a very high tech, medical terminology going on here!

Once I was prepped I said to my sister: “I’m all sorts of glamorous now. I’m hot in this gown and cap! I have no idea why I’m single” as she takes a picture of me in all my pre-ER glory.

Yup I’m one hot mama!!

But not to be outdone, I told Sissy L it wasn’t fair that I had to wear the beauty enhancing cap and she didn’t. So, she put one on.

Okay we are complete dorks!!

But we continued laughing as the nurse declared: “You two are having too much fun in there”. And it was in that moment that I mouthed to my sister: “I have a bad feeling about this”

There really isn’t any need to go into the procedure. You can read about what happens when the RE gets up close and personal here.

But the end result turned into me waking up before the procedure was done and only have 3 eggs retrieved. Dr. Corny had ZERO bedside manner and made some kind of excuse about eggs sometimes getting stuck inside…I don’t know what that means…

I am sad. I’m defeated and I’m not finding any of this funny.

I left the RE’s office in a huff (a real huff with a curse or two thrown in!) which in hindsight I do feel bad about…

Now I’m walking on egg shells (HA!! I guess I had 1 more obvious joke hanging on in there!) as I wait for my fertilization report and pray that I have the Golden Eggs!

At this point it’s either laugh or cry and I’ve been crying all day!

Eat, Sleep and Poop!

Today I went in for my ultrasound and blood work to determine how many eggs I have, what sizes they are and to see when my ET will probably be and well the news wasn’t good! It is coming dangerously close to my greatest fear being realized. My greatest fear is that I would go in, lay back, place my feet in the stirrups, wait for the doctor to insert the ultrasound cam (or as so many of the TTC ladies like to call it “the dildo cam”) and as the doctor moves the cam around inside of me he says “There are no eggs!” That is my greatest fear. And no it didn’t come true today but after 1 week of stimming on the highest doses of meds possible, I have 4. Yes, I know it could be worse. 4 is better than none. I know that and I am trying to be grateful for the 4 I have but…it hurts.

Dr. Wow, well, he always lives up to his name because he kept saying “Everything is good. Everything looks good”. He continued with: “Alright, well, we have something to work with which is good.” Followed by his sweet handshake, which he doesn’t really shake your hand but cradles your hand in both of his (which is very comforting) and then smiles and says: “Hang in there my dear”. But I know it’s not good. I know these numbers suck! They suck out loud! But boy did today only confirm to me the fact that I have a giant crush on Dr. Wow! Even with my sucky ass numbers he still found a way to make it all sound good. When I was with Dr. Doom you could hear an audible sigh of disgust or disappointment when he would do your ultrasound but not Dr. Wow. Always so sweet. Serious crush!

My last 2 cycles for each I had 6. I was hoping to have the same or more, not less. Less hurts. It puts my chances for success on my last cycle really low. And it hurts. I just wanted a fighting chance.

After my disappointing doctor’s appointment I went to Violet for some acupuncture. I told her about my numbers and how upsetting it is. She listened and then said as she was putting each needle into my belly, in her adorable Eastern Block accent she says: “You never know!” “More eggs could develop and they can mature very quickly. You never know. Now try to relax.” She shut off the lights and I was out.

I don’t remember what I was dreaming when she came back in but she says: “I see you were able to relax”. I smiled and said “Yes” (as I think I was wiping some drool away). Then she said (with that sweet accent of hers) “You have done everything possible to make this work. You have to now trust. You cannot get upset or depressed. All you have to do now is eat, sleep and poop!”

Since I already feel asleep during the session I had that covered. I went and got a sandwich and well…now I’m not sure if the extra needles in my belly were her intentions to make the last part of her statement come true but when I got home let's just say achieving the latter portion of her advice was a giant success!

So, I go back on Thursday to see how everything is growing and until then I am going to follow Violet’s advice and just “Eat, sleep and poop”. I’m pretty good at all three so it shouldn’t be too hard.

What’s going to become of me?

When I grow up…

I wanted to be an actress. I spent over 10 years in NYC pursuing that dream. It was a magical time in my life. Everything was fresh and new. And dreams…dreams were alive, breathing and attainable.

After many years of pounding the pavement I decided to release that dream and create a new one for my life and although it was sad I could envision a new life. I could move on…

Throughout my time of running down this dream, I always pictured myself meeting the one, getting married and having babies. I can clearly remember the visions I would have of me at different points in my life (late 20’s, early 30’s, mid 30’s) pregnant. And until this day, even though it now seems impossible, I still picture myself with a toddler and an infant on my hip. These visions are almost a given. Not really a dream but path in my life I knew I was going to take. It is a part of who I am.

But now I often wonder what is going to become of me if I never fall in love again. I often wonder what is going to become of me if I don’t succeed in my quest to become a mother. Can you move on with a missing part?

At the bar I work in there used to be this woman who would come in and hit on all the young guys. She would walk around the bar pressing herself up against any guy that would let her. And believe me they would let her. Her name was Judy and Judy clearly had some figure enhancing surgery of the extra large variety done and Judy was definitely older. But she wore tiny little clothes to show off her extra large enhancements. She would rub her extra large enhancements up against the young guys, flip her hair and make the “duck face” by pursing her lips together. All of this in an effort to get some guy to go home with her (or at least to buy her a drink). I used to watch Judy and think she was sad. She had no one. Here was a woman (to my best guess) when she was younger probably had men falling all over her and now, now that she was older, she was desperate for the attention. Watching Judy always made me sad. What was Judy’s story? Did she have love and lose it? Did men just always use her and she never found love and if I remain single and never find the one could a life without love lead me to be Judy?

I wonder if I am ever going to fall in love again. And without it…Without love...Without that hand that touches mine to say “You’re safe!” Without that smile I catch as I look up that says “I’m yours!” and without the whispers of “I love you!” in my ear will I ever be truly happy? Without love will I turn into Judy, desperately seeking affection? Will you find me in some bar throwing myself at any guy who will let me in some hopeless bid to not be alone?

There’s another woman who comes into the bar; Coffee Lady. She’s the complete opposite of Judy. She comes in with a cup of “to go” coffee (she got somewhere else) and sits quietly at one of the tables. She’s unkempt. She’s unsocial. If you didn’t know any better you would think she’s homeless. She harmless but in some ways she makes me uncomfortable. I am not sure of her story. Someone at one time or another told me she was that way from doing drugs and that she’s been this way for a long time and lives with her mother. She is isolated. Lost. I walked up to her one time to offer her some coffee and she turned to me a smiled. And when she did, her smile was eerie, almost scary and her eyes were sad and lonely.

Is this what happens when you don’t have a family of your own? Is this what happens when you have no purpose but to wander into different stores all day long in hopes of getting a cup of coffee? And if I never have a family of my own will I find myself isolated and lost? Wandering around in a world of emptiness?

We all know the jokes about the “Crazy Cat Lady”; the woman that has 10, 15, 20 cats. I have 2. I have 2 cats. I am 42 and single and I have 2 cats. I can usually deal out the jokes with the best of them. You know that an older woman with cats must either be gay or the “Crazy Cat Lady”. And I joke around saying that it’s only a matter of time before I have a house overrun by cats. And when I see stray kittens around my condo complex, I want to take them in. I make a conscious effort not to look directly at them because I am sure if their little, sad, lost, cold and lonely eyes catch mine I will have no choice but to take them home.

Is this what happens when your desire to be a mom is so strong but never gets fulfilled? Do you go around taking in stray after stray after stray to try to fill your maternal instincts? And if I never become a mom will you find me obsessively hording pets?

My Grandma H passed away on April 8th 2008. She was 95 years old. The last 10 years of her life (let’s face it, it was probably more like 15) she spent debilitated with Alzheimer’s. My Grandpa passed away in 1972. 36 years before Grandma H. She never remarried. My grandmother had suitors (that’s what she called them “suitors”) but she would always say “I had my husband”. She could have had another 30 year marriage. Not lived alone. I often wonder if the being alone and wishing for days gone by attributed to her Alzheimer’s. I wonder if living in the past became a better alternative than trying to live in such a cold, lonely present and even lonelier future.

Having a family is not a dream that has to be released. This is a piece of me. Can I live without this piece? But more importantly will I want to?

If I don’t find love, if I never become a mother will I completely lose hope in the future so that all I can do is live in the past?

And as the days approach to finding out whether or not my last IVF cycle is going to work I find myself wondering “What’s going to become of me?”

I can’t fight this feeling anymore…

What will I become?

I keep trying to feel nothing. Nothing at all.

If I feel nothing, nothing at all will I be able to avoid the pain, the pain if I fall?

As I try to feel nothing, nothing at all, my world closes in around me, I fall to the floor.

The emptiness that surrounds me, a giant gaping hole, as I sob and sob

I scream “I can’t cry anymore!”

“Please God I can’t cry anymore”

As I try to feel nothing, nothing at all there’s a flutter inside.

Could it be hope, is hope still alive?

I dream of what could be and all its possibilities.

For a moment I smile.

But what if it’s not meant to be?

As I try to feel nothing, nothing at all I can’t help but wonder “What’s going to become of me?”


*Note – I have never claimed to be a poet or even a writer for that matter. As I struggle with the question “What’s going to become of me?” these are the words that came to me. So I thought I would share.

Say What??

How to speak Moronic:

We’ve all heard the sayings. “We” meaning my wonderful Sisters in Fertility who are TTC. We hear the same sayings time and time again. For the life of me I can’t figure out why people find “this advice” in anyway helpful but they are always ready to give it. Quickly I might add. It just comes flying out of their mouths like there is some kinda of “Asinine Shit” center in the brain that can’t be shut off in time. And once you are around a lot of people uncomfortably discussing your plans to have a baby the “Asinine Shit” center of the brain overfloweth.

The holidays provide many opportunities for these awkward conversations to blossom. From the company Christmas Party to gathering at mom’s house, all eyes, ears and mouths spewing Asinine Comments will be focused on you.

I went to V’s Company Christmas Party this week. The group consisted mostly of women and it didn’t take long for the “Ever so helpful. Why didn’t I think of that sooner” advice to come my way about my quest to be a mother. Now I know that this is all because they want to help and have the best intentions but after a while, after you have heard the same moronic advice over and over, you end up giving you’re honest feedback. So here are some of the answers I gave…

Well some I gave verbally and some I screamed in my head, and for some I smiled and said “Thanks. I’ll try that”.

The number 1 Asinine Comment from the Asinine Shit Center of the Brain is (and it’s no surprise):

What you need to do is relax! Just relax! Have a couple of drinks and relax…

Why is “Relax” the number 1 Asinine Comment people give you when you tell them you are trying to conceive? And why would this advice be even remotely helpful to a single woman of 42 TTC when the object of my baby making affection is a catheter? So I proudly told them: “Yes, I could do that! I could get drunk before my insemination or transfer, show up at my RE’s office and try to make it relaxed and romantic.”

In my best, sexy, slurring, drunk voice I explained how I could make the moves on my RE:

Me: “Wow, Dr. Wow you look…you lookkkk…so hot…hot with that vaginal ultrasound” “I’m just gonna slllipp in the other room and taake my pants off”

Wink! Blow kiss! Pull off pants and return to the examining room…

“How do you like my paper gown?” “Sexxy”

As I skootch onto the table:

“I’m gonna put 1 leg here (moving my legs ever so sexy into the stirrups) and the other here (wink). How do you like that? (blow kiss) Now I’m jussst gonna lay backkk, relax and let you, that speculum and catheter have your way with me! Because you are hottt and I am relaxed and we’re gonna make a babbby”

Dr. Wow:

Number 2 Asinine Comment from the Asinine Shit Center of the Brain:

You’ve got plenty of time…

Oh for the love of God I DO NOT!!! In case you missed it the 1st time, 2nd time or 3rd time I AM 42!!

But wait I know the next answer to that: “My girlfriend had her 1st baby naturally at 43!”

She is the exception not the rule. So I politely remind them: “After age 35 your fertility falls off a cliff. And it only gets worse as you get older. 80% of women 38 and over will need some form of A.R.T. to conceive and that number only increases with age. But I am so glad to hear that your friend was one of the lucky 20%.” And in my head I was screaming: “I wish someone had told me the facts instead of blowing sunshine up my ass by saying You’ve got time!”

Now there was one comment that did somewhat make sense and made me feel a little better.

“You didn’t know. How were you to know you weren’t going to meet the guy?”

And that’s true. I had no idea that I wasn’t going to meet the guy. I held out. I held out way too long!! And in the process of holding out I would always get Asinine Comment # 2 “You’ve got time” and also during this time I would get those wonderful unprovoked Asinine Comments on dating and looking for the one. I would get:

When you least expect it…

It’s cousin: When you’re not looking…

I can honestly say there are many, many times that I have been “least expecting it” over the last year since I’ve put my full focus on TTC. And I have completely stopped looking. I wasn’t sure what to put under Hobbies on my Match profile anymore: “Likes long drives to the RE office and injecting hormones daily”, so I decided to delete my profile all together. So I am clearly not looking and guess what; it still hasn’t happened. And that’s okay because based on this advice I figure that one day I will be sitting on the toilet with my eyes closed when the man of my dreams bursts in, I will somehow be relaxed enough to make love and then I will magically be pregnant at 45!!

You’ve got a friend!

And we all know they know someone:

My friends’ unlce’s sister ‘s cousin got pregnant when she….

Stopped trying…

Just relaxed…

Adopted a baby from China…

Got drunk and accosted her RE!

So based on what happened to their friend’s uncle’s sister’s cousin I will get pregnant after unsuccessfully trying to seduce my RE and successfully adopting- just not sure where the relaxing and least expecting it comes in on this one…oh okay I will successfully seducing my RE in the oh so relaxed atmosphere of the examining room and then finalized my adoption only to find that I am pregnant from the drunken tryst! Hey it could happen!!

But in reality everyone is just trying to help (how this helps I have no idea) but they are trying.

Don’t Speak…

And some people just should be allowed to talk at all.

There is one comment I have shockingly gotten twice. Once from a man (understandably guy’s are pervs) and most recently from my mom’s wacky female friend (not sure why a woman would say such a thing) but this one truly belongs in the Asinine Comments from the Asinine Shit Center of the Brain Hall of Fame.

“Why don’t you just go out and be slutty and sleep around?”

When my guy friend said it, it was more like: “You’re missing all the fun. You should go out and sleep with every guy in sight”

My mom’s wackadoodle friend said it after my mom announced I was doing another Series. Cycle mom not series, cycle. So then my mom’s wackadoodle friend said something like: “It would be a lot cheaper and a lot easier if you were slutty and went out and slept around”

WHAT!! SAY WHAT???

Do I need to dignify that with a response?

And to think the advice used to be “If you’re going to be slutty and sleep around use protection” (As it should be!) And in honor of my slutty days of Christmas Past, I followed the latter advice.

So with a big smile I turned to my mom’s wackadoodle friend and I said “Thanks! I’ll try that!”

But all joking aside that comment is just too Asinine for a response!

So in honor of the holidays when we are subjected to having to converse more than we would like, what are some of your favorite Asinine Comments from the Asinine Shit Center of the Brain?

The Long and Winding Road….

Sio (the ex) has a girlfriend. It’s not just a girlfriend. He’s fallen in love. This shouldn’t bother me. I left Sio 6 YEARS AGO!!  I do not want him back. I honestly thought that when I left Sio 6 years ago that I would meet someone right away, get married and have children. All the things that I wanted that Sio wasn’t ready for I figured I would get if I left him and moved on. But the road hasn’t been that easy or that simple and I am still on my journey towards my family. But Sio, Sio’s met someone. Sio’s fallen in love. Sio is moving forward and it is bothering me. It’s bringing me to tears. I’m melting down at the site of their "We're a couple" Facebooks pics, at the sounds that their “I love you” “Can’t wait to see you” posts whisper in my ear and at the thought of him loving someone else.

I mentioned this meltdown to M2 at her family’s Annual Christmas Brunch held every year on the Sunday before the Sunday before Christmas.

I said to M2 “Sio has a girlfriend and it is really bothering me”

and M2 said “Why? Didn’t you break up with him for good reasons?”

Me: “Yes”

M2: “Do you want Sio back?”

Me: “No”

M2: “Is it because he should be miserable and spend the rest of his life pining away over you?”

Me: “No! God no!” (well maybe a little!)

It’s because he’s experiencing those beautiful, wonderful moments of meeting someone that gives you butterflies, the excitement of going out for the first time and the second time and the third time, that first kiss, second kiss, third kiss, the moments when all you can do is kiss, the lingering stares, the expanding touches, the holding hands, the resting of your head on their shoulder and that sigh of relief when you finally know that this is really going somewhere. He has that. And I guess what I am really crying over is the fact that I don’t!

Would any of this matter if I hadn’t miscarried and I was carrying for a newborn now? Probably not. Is all this emotional release truly related to Sio’s new love or is it a side effect of BCPs and Lupron? Most likely a little of both. Is it because deep down I do want Sio back? No. There are many, many wonderful things that I have in my life now that I wouldn’t have if I had stayed with Sio. My sobriety is one of them. If I had stayed with Sio, I would stuck in the same place in my life never moving forward. When I was with Sio I drank too much, smoked too much and partied too much. I knew that wasn’t the life I wanted. I knew I had to move on and I knew that moving on meant leaving Sio behind. Sio and I aren’t meant to be. So what is it?

Could it be that this is just a deafening reminder of the single side of this journey? Bringing to the forefront the unmistakable fact that I am lonely? Bingo!

My loneliness was all too evident when I had the Itch Scratcher come over the other day. Yes, I caved. The Itch was too unbearable I just couldn’t keep scratching it myself (well in a little confession, I’ve caved a couple of times now). So, I called the Itch Scratcher. Well, actually he called me but either way the end result was some good old fashioned Itch Scratching. And it was good. It’s always good but after he left I knew I would probably go back to scratching my own itches for a while because I want more. I don’t want more from the Itch Scratcher himself. I want more in the form of a relationship. I want what Sio has. I want to fall in love.

This time last year I had decided to take motherhood into my own hands. I was with Dr. Doom doing IUIs with Clomid. The insurance company didn’t want to cover my expenses. They stated it was because I was single and they couldn’t prove I had fertility issues without a semen sample. Since I was with Sio for 5 years and some of those years off Birth Control, I asked Sio if he would provide a sample so I could get insurance coverage. I wasn’t sure what his response would be. And he said as a matter of fact “Sure! A cup, a towel. It’s going to go some place that day anyway! Besides I always wanted to do it in a doctor’s office!” He’s funny and we laughed and I said “You really do love me” and he said “It never was a matter of not loving you.” And I guess in that moment I did feel loved and I didn’t feel so alone. I ended up not needing that sample because my test results came back so abysmal but it was nice to know that I could turn to someone. To my Sio.

Flash forward 1 year later and I am alone, painfully alone, following my Path to Motherhood and the one person that I could turn to has fallen in love. I am happy for him. I really am. I guess it’s just that when you are taking the road less traveled it would be really nice to have a travel companion.

Praying for Someday…

Throughout this journey I have always had a plan. From the moment I heard those words: “Practically zero percent chance…” I knew they were wrong. In my heart I knew it wasn’t true. My 1st plan of attack was to prove Dr. Doom wrong. And I did. And then it fell apart. After my miscarriage my plan was to get pregnant again as soon as I possible. It was the only thing I could think of doing to stop the pain (and it still is) so I decided to move directly to IVF. After my 1st IVF cycle failed my plan was to change my donor, double up my holistic efforts, start meditation tapes, go to psychics, lite candles, use a dreambox, rub a pumpkin on my womb (yes I rubbed a pumpkin on my womb!) etc. All to ensure success. I stopped going to my acupuncturist Violet and enlisted the services of Dr. Wang (thinking that old Chinese medicine men held some kind of ancient secret). I was certain this plan would work. And then IVF cycle 2 failed and I was back to square one. I had no plan. I had no idea. Should I triple my holistic efforts (I wasn’t even sure how to do that)? Change donors again? Take this? Increase that?

I was on the phone with Sissy M explaining all this to her and she says: “I guess you are just going to have to let go and let God”. I was looking for answers. Her response pissed my off at the time. My reply was (and I quote): “Like I have a fucking choice” but that was exactly what I was going to have to do...

I’ve realized that there is nothing I can do or not do that is going to change the outcome of this last cycle. It is either going to work or it’s not going to work. I cannot change that. I went back to Violet because I feel more at home with her. I went back to my old donor because the other donor didn’t have any sperm available. Normally that would have freaked me out and made me think this cycle was doomed. I’m letting go and letting God. I still continue with all my supplements but I am not as strict. I figure a tiny drop of regular coffee mixed in my decaf isn’t going to ruin me. I’m letting go and letting God. And my plan? My plan has become prayer. Every night before I go to bed I pray. Well I don’t know if you could actually call it prayer anymore. I mean let’s face it; it’s more like downright begging. Where is the line between praying and begging? Yeah, it is downright begging but I figured it’s the only shot I have. So every night before I go to sleep, I thank God for all the good in my life, ask him for the strength to carry on down the path that I am meant to take and then pray (beg and I mean beg) to become a mommy. I beg God for my family. So yes, my new plan is begging…

And somehow the being thankful, asking for strength, praying and yes the downright begging has given me a little sense of peace.

But there are some things you cannot avoid. No matter how hard you try or what you do you will eventually come across, run into or find yourself face to face with the constant reminders of your empty womb, childless existence or single life. Reminders are all around you. I would imagine the only way to avoid these reminders would be to work from home, always order delivery so you never have to go to the supermarket and around the holidays you would have to order all your gifts online in order to avoid the place where all reminders like to convene; the MALL!!

Yes, the other day I ventured out into the Holiday Torture Land and hit the mall with Sissy L. As we walked past all the various stores we pointed at shoes and purses, checked out the newest gadgets, “Ohhed” and “Ahhed” at the little mittens, tiny coats and little hats. We walked past pregnant women, a sea of strollers, happy couples and happy families everywhere. Teary eyed I watched the little ones sit on Santa’s lap and at lunch at the table right across from us a woman with twins put her adorable little babies into their highchairs and fed them lunch. I looked with longing and Sissy L would say “I can’t wait” and would declare “Me too!” But somewhere underneath it all was the fear, the overwhelming fear that it may never happen for me. I think Sissy L sensed this because later on after our trip to the pet store to “Ohh and Ahh” over the adorable puppies and fight the maternal urge to bring one home (to be a mommy to something), we were sitting at a little coffee shop drinking our Ginger Spice Lattes (yes it was decaf) and watching all the families walk by and Sissy L leaned in and said “Someday there will be a woman looking at you with your adorable children wondering when it’s going to be her turn”.

And I realized that is exactly what I have been praying for all along; my someday. I am begging for it to be my turn. I am praying for someday!

…to be okay

When looking for a new design for my blog I went onto a website called Deviant Art. I scoured through pages and pages of artists and photos. There’s some amazing work on there. I was looking for something I could relate to. Something, I didn’t know what, something, something that said me. I just knew I would know it when I saw it.

I would email my blog designer Barbara “What about this one?” What about that one?” and she would respond; “I like this one” or “I like that one”. We decided we liked a beautiful piece of digital art by Selenart; the clock and the butterflies but then I came across another beautiful piece of digital art by Julia Starr. The title of the picture was “…to be okay”. The title grabbed me. The picture grabbed me. I emailed the artist. I gave her a brief summary of my situation, a link to my blog and I asked for permission to use her artwork. She said yes and we decided to do a combination of the 2 pieces. But there was more than just her permission in her response. Her response still resonates with me:

“Yeah ,you can totally use it :)
I read some of your blog but I am in hurry at the moment lol. But it was interesting. In a way you're similar to my mom. She always wanted to give birth to her own children
but my dad was infertile, so she became fascinated in adoption and adopted 6 kids over the last 27 years. She has been single for a long time. My dad was never a very good loving person,
and was very greedy about adoption. But it's just the fact that the child is getting a loving mother :)
And from the way you sound, I think you'd be a great mother! :)
I have to go, but I will certainly read more later!
-Julia”

Wow! And in my head, I can’t stop singing “It’s a Small World after all! It’s a Small World after all!” But more so her email is a reminder that being a mother has nothing to do with biology. I knew that to be true of a father from my own personal experience of growing up without a dad. I guess I needed to be reminded it's true for moms too.

If my last IVF cycle doesn’t work and I have to use my Alternate Path to become a mom, I will not be having my biological child and I need to be okay with that.

One day I am convinced that I am fine and whatever the outcome I will be okay and the next I am full of tears and pain not knowing what I'll do if this doesn't work...

I received my BFFs Christmas card in the mail which had both her children BBG (Beautiful Baby Girl) and BBB (Beautiful Baby Boy) on it all dressed up in their Christmas best and I was looking at their perfect little faces thinking BBG looks like my BFF and BBB looks like his dad and I lost it. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn't stop pleading with God and I realized I am not okay.

Later on that day, I was driving to work and I started thinking of my Alternate Path. I started thinking of all the reasons I want to be a mother and not one of those reasons is so my child can have my eyes. That doesn’t matter. I started wondering what my child will look like and I smiled. I am okay.

I think about others going through infertility with PCOS, Endometriosis or Male Factor Infertility and I know that I don’t have any of those issues. I wasn’t robbed of my ability to have children. I have DOR due to Advanced Maternal Age. I did this. I waited too long. I took my fertility for granted and if I never get pregnant again I need to be okay. I need to find a way to let myself off the hook. I need to take full responsibility and then forgive myself. If I don’t forgive myself I will never be okay.

On the Fertile Thoughts Board one of the girls who struggled very hard and finally got pregnant just had her beautiful twin baby boys. And two other girls, who like me, are considered to be of Advanced Maternal Age, both struggled cycle after cycle and both were showing off their belly pics as they enter their 2nd trimester. This reminds me that the process works. It gives me hope and I have to let myself be okay to have hope again. I’ve lost that. I’ve been so consumed with the thought that this might not work that I haven’t let myself believe that this might work. I need to be okay with believing.

I need to find a way to be okay no matter what the outcome is.

As I sit here looking out my window as the first few snowflakes starting to fall, I look at the barren trees against a cloud filled sky and never thought that I would be barren too. I wonder if the trees know that come spring they will bloom again. Is that why the trees don’t seem to mind? Is that why they keep growing, reaching towards the sky? Is that why they’re okay?

“But it's just the fact that the child is getting a loving mother :)”

Can my journey towards motherhood keep me growing; keep me reaching up towards the sky? Can knowing that in the end I will be a loving mom make me okay?

Where's that confounded bridge?

On Thanksgiving Day I was forced (yes, forced) to reveal my Alternate Path to my family. My Alternate Path is the next step in my journey towards motherhood should my Current Path not lead me to my destination. My Alternate Path is something very personal to me. It took a lot of crying, a lot of soul searching and a lot of researching before I became happy (and actually excited) about my Alternate Path. But I was only going to reveal my Alternate Path if I needed an Alternate Path. I still have one more cycle and I am praying that this is it. I am praying that I won’t need an Alternate Path. I am praying that the Current Path leads me to motherhood!

“I would never be content or happy not being a mother at all…”

I read those words on S.I.F.’s blog and they have been ringing in my ears ever since. My heart embraces those words. Those words hit home because I know that the same holds true for me. I know that becoming a mom is a “non-negotiable”. It was in that moment, that moment when I read and re-read those words, that I realized I needed a solid Alternate Path. I needed a new path in case the one I was on ended at a dead end. I figured the best way to move past the pain that I may never carry my biological child or the pain that I may never be pregnant again was to have a solid path laid out in front of me. I needed a solid path to motherhood and that is what I have been doing for the last month. I have been finding my way. Finding my path. And if it’s my way and if it’s my path, don’t you think I should be the one to tell people?

I made the mistake of including my sister, Sissy L, in discussions about my Alternate Path. I brought up the topic of my Alternate Path to V when we were out to dinner. Sissy L was with us. I included her. I didn’t think that my sister would tell others. Now I did not state that my Alternate Path was top secret so in that respect it is my fault. I just didn’t realize she would take my Alternate Path and make it her topic of conversation but I should have known better. Ever since we were little she’s tried to retell my stories and when she does they never seem to come out right. I can only image how she butchered the tale of my Alternate Path. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not mad at her. I just wish that it was me telling my friends.

But either way, it doesn’t matter. She revealed my Alternate Path and now my Alternate Path was out there! Close friends knew. Friends that I wish I was the one who told but instead my sister did. I had to reveal my Alternate Path because others knew and my mom would be so upset if she wasn’t told by me.

* Lyrically, the bridge is typically used to pause and reflect on the earlier portions of the song or to prepare the listener for the climax.

So I knew Thanksgiving Day would be the perfect time to reveal my Alternate Path to the rest of the family. I tried to avoid bringing up the topic of my Alternate Path by leaving information about it directly dead center on my coffee table. I figure one of them, my mom or my other sister, Sissy M, would point it out and say “Michaela, what’s this?” but nooooo, the giant elephant just sat in the room the whole time. And Sissy L kept making side comments the whole time. It was like she had Alternate Path Tourettes! Spurting out random words here and there! Till finally the moment came when I started to tell everyone what my Alternate Path is if my next cycle doesn’t work. And as soon as I started to tell the tale my mom cuts me off and says: “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there” and I looked at her and said: “I can’t do that. I can’t do that knowing that the bridge might collapse underneath me. Knowing that I can be dropped into the darkest abyss without some way out, I can’t. I can’t cross that bridge when I get there.” I know my mom is just trying to protect me by avoiding talking about it. If we all act as if it’s not there maybe it will go away and then we won’t have to face the giant “What if” staring right at us. But it won’t go away because there is a very real chance that this next cycle won’t work. There is a very real chance that I might never carry a child but there is no chance that I won’t become a mother. So I told my family my Alternate Path. They all embraced it.

This is my journey to motherhood. No matter what path I end up taking, no matter how many bridges I need to cross I will in the end be a mom. I need my Alternate Path. Right now my Alternate Path is my security blanket. It's a way to protect my heart. And in planning my Alternate Path it is my time to pause, reflect and prepare for the climax.

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was "thank you," that would suffice. ~ Meister Eckhart

My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. It always has been. For me it’s the one day in the year where you can just put everything aside, breath, relax, look around and say “thanks”. I am by nature a grateful person. I embrace this holiday. I treasure it and I live by it. But I am having a hard time…

I’m having a hard time letting all the things I am grateful for and all the things I am thankful for easy the pain of what I am missing.

Every night I thank God for all the good things in my life. Every night. Not just on Thanksgiving. And I am truly grateful. I am truly thankful. But that doesn’t close the hole. It doesn’t easy the pain. It doesn’t heal the wound.

So on this day as I count my blessing, celebrate the day and laugh with my family, I will put aside the hole in my heart, breath, relax, look around and say "thanks"!

On the edge of cynicism:

I’ll be the 1st to admit that when someone starts talking about Jesus as their savior and quoting the bible my 1st reaction is a giant eye roll. It’s an unstoppable reflect. I don’t know why. I believe in God and Jesus. I respect all religions. I don’t mean to be cynical. I try to think back and I try figure out what has made me this jaded that I would roll my eyes at the Lord’s words and I have nothing. (*Actually I just rolled my eyes at typing that phrase “The Lord’s words”). I guess it evokes mental images of the extremes. Extremes you are only exposed to with age because I don’t recall sitting in church when I was little and rolling my eyes. When I was little I would go to church with my grandmother. She was a deacon in her church. Church was a place of utmost respect. She always made you stand up straight and sit up straight. You had to sit with your ankles crossed and your hands folded on your lap. There was no acting up. There was no fussing and there was no fidgeting. If you fussed, if you fidgeted or if you slouched you got a pinch on your leg. A good pinch! I guess it was an old fashioned form of shock therapy delivered with a stern scowl by Grandma H. But it worked. There you were drifting off into space, starting to slouch and PINCH! Or if you started fidgeting, tapping your foot, playing with your hands: PINCH! It got to the point where if Grandma H just slightly moved you automatically became erect and still in your seat.

And my respect for the church was evident this Sunday when I returned to church for the 1st time after my miscarriage. Now mind you, I am not a regular "church goer", but I didn’t go into church rolling my eyes. Although I do find the whole shaking of everyone’s hands and saying “The Peace of something or other be with you” a little corny, I am not checking out the backs of my eyelids when Pastor Don reads the scripture. I listen intently. I sit up straight with my ankles crossed and my hands folded on my lap. But then again Pastor Don doesn’t just drone on and on reading passage after passage from the Bible. He reads one or two small passages and then goes into how they pertain to life with amusing stories, funny anecdotes etc. all relating back to the lesson of that scripture. I don’t know if all Pastors/Reverends/Priests do this. I don’t recall if Reverend L did this when I was little but then again I was too busy focusing on sitting up straight, crossing my ankles, folding my hands on my lap and not fidgeting. Doing all of that and in my mind trying to finding a way to do it while sleeping! So at church today when I would feel myself slouch I would sit up straight, cross my ankles and fold my hands on my lap. When I would start to fidget I would sit up straight, cross my ankles and fold my hands on my lap. I was not rolling my eyes. So, if anything church makes me sit up straighter!

I will admit that I am not “up to date” on the proper rituals of the church. This was evident when I went to a Catholic Church for the first time with my ex Sio for his Aunt’s funeral and thought that the kneeler was a footrest. Yup I asked him, in the middle of the funeral, if he would like me to put the footrest down. And with a look of confusion and then amusement he goes: “What?” and I said: “The footrest…would you like me to put the footrest down?” and through his laughter he says: “It’s a kneeler. You kneel on it to pray!” So, of course now as I look around the church I notice several women kneeling and praying. We laughed. We laughed out loud in church but continued to pray! And I never felt like rolling my eyes once that day. But then again the whole sermon was in Spanish so I had no idea what the priest was saying.

Even 2 years ago when my beloved Grandma H passed away and my sisters, cousins, aunt, mom and myself were sitting in church, the same church Grandma H brought me to when I was little, I didn’t feel jaded by God’s words. I felt at home. Right at home considering that my sisters, my cousins and I burst out laughing in the middle of the church. The Reverend was preparing to start the service and he went to move the collection plates out of the way. As a joke he passed the collection plate to my sister M. The looks, and I say looks because her face went through a couple of emotions in about a minute, were hysterical. First she was like “Oh” and she starts looking in her purse for money and then her face was kind of pleading like “someone give me some money” and then it went to anger like “How dare you ask for a collection at my Grandma’s funeral” and then the Reverend let her off the hook and said with a smile “I’m just kidding” and we lost it. Burst out laughing until my Aunt N yells “Girls! We are in a church!” I felt at home. So, why do I have this unstoppable reaction to roll my eyes …

And church isn’t the only place I do it. I roll my eyes at sappy songs. I find Rascal Flats way too whiney for my tastes. You’re a bunch of guys. Quit whining and act like a man! And I truly want to throw Celine Dion overboard every time I hear that song from the Titanic.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not without feelings. I bawled my eyes out several times during Homeward Bound when the dogs and kitty cat get lost and are trying to find their way home. I cried like a baby when ET’s heart light started glowing beneath the clear plastic, alien body bag.

So what is it? What constitutes my eye roll?

Do I direct my cynicism to certain aspects of my life because it reflects areas in my life where I’ve been burned? That is a justifiable assumption. I’ve been burned more than once in love and God and I are still working on some serious burns.

Maybe being cynical is really a protection reflect? If I keep everything at arms distance in the “seeing is believing” mode I won’t get crushed when it doesn’t come into my view.

And if I get burned on my last IVF cycle will I then become cynical about A.R.T or older woman trying to have babies? Will I roll my eyes at their stories instead of providing my insightful (and witty) advice?

If I do not get pregnant, if I never carry a child will I forever be jaded and cynical about pregnancy and birth? Will I completely lose myself in anger and resentment?

I like who I am. I like that I can find humor in trying situations. I like that I can celebrate and rejoice. There is actually a part of me that doesn’t want to move forward. That doesn’t want to do this last IVF cycle because I’m afraid. I’m afraid of falling over the edge. Over the edge of cynicism.

Will I be able to laugh, celebrate and rejoice or will I be rolling my eyes?

*Note the church in the picture is the First Presbyterian Church of Stanhope NJ. The church that Grandma H would bring me to when I was little.

A fear like no other: The return of Whiffer!

When I was little I used to play softball. I played on the Little League team and then played well into my teens. Anyone who plays softball knows that feeling of striking out. When strike three either whizzes past you or you swing and miss, its defeat. It’s even a greater sense of defeat when the game is on the line. Runners are in scoring position, the pitcher winds up and…bam…strike 1. Now your heart starts to race. You tell yourself its okay, you have 2 more chances. You wait for the perfect pitch and there it is. You swing. You miss. Strike 2 and it’s all on the line. One more strike and you are out. Game over. It’s pressure. It’s a lot of pressure and you are out of chances. How will it end? Will you watch the perfect pitch whiz past you? Will you swing the bat and miss or will you hit it out of the park? When I used to play softball at one time or another, I did all three. And although sometimes I struck out, I also knew that I could get a hit. My fear of the strike out didn’t overwhelm me. But there was one place that it did.

My overwhelming fear of the strike out didn’t come to me on the softball field. My fear of striking out showed up in my own backyard. My childhood friends and I used to play Whiffle ball in my backyard and there was one friend who when he pitched I could NEVER hit off of him! And that pitcher was cousin Bb. Yup cousin Bb struck me out every time. He wasn’t really my cousin. He was my childhood best friend LL’s cousin but I called him cousin anyway. I did that with all her cousins. I don’t know why initially I couldn’t hit off cousin Bb, maybe it was a childhood crush or the fear of embarrassment was too strong but there I was: strike 1, strike 2, strike 3 YOU’RE OUT!! Each and every time. And always at the hands of cousin Bb. Cousin Bb even gave me a nickname. Yup, I was called Whiffer! And the longer this went on the more terrified I became of batting against cousin Bb. There were games that if cousin Bb wasn’t pitching, when I got up to bat he would run to the mound (with the chant of Whiffer rising up through my yard) and 1, 2, 3 strikes I’m out and then trot back to the position he was playing. Just like that boom. The more this went one, the greater the fear became.

I’m down to my last IVF cycle. I was sure when I bought the 3 cycle package that I would hit it out of the park by my 2nd try. After my 1st failed IVF I was okay. I had 2 more chances. But now, now I have 2 strikes and the pressure is on. The fear is rising. I have 1 more chance and I can either hit it out of the park or swing and miss. I am terrified. It’s pressure. It’s fear. Which could be followed by the ultimate defeat and it’s in my own back yard. Am I destined to become Whiffer again? I am praying hard that cousin Bb isn’t pitching. I’m praying hard that Whiffer doesn't return.