One week--Slightly hopeful?

I went to the clinic this morning to have a progesterone level drawn and an ultrasound to confirm ovulation.  The ultrasound looked good.  I don't even have any cysts this month, which is wonderful news!  My endometrial lining is 10 mm, which is also wonderful.  I don't know what the progesterone level is because the blood was just being sent to the lab as I left the clinic, but I will email the nurse and find out in the next couple of days.

Today, I'm allowing myself to feel a bit hopeful.  I also feel nauseous, but that may be due to the ongoing URI that I have (the drainage could just be upsetting my stomach).  There is no way of knowing if I'm pregnant or not until next week, so the wait continues.  I think I will let myself feel hopeful this week though, because feeling hopeless and worried is not helpful or fun.

As Sean and I were washing dishes a little while ago, I told him that I would like to have a baby belly by the time my brother gets married in October.  How great would that be?!

1. 

I've been reading ConversionDiary.com for at least a year now. I am fascinated by Catholicism, and really wish I could be Catholic.  There are a few issues that keep me from making that change, but I've learned so much from Jennifer and Catholicism over the past few years.  I am Episcopalian, which is "almost" Catholic (sorta).

2.

I went back to work today after being out sick for the past 3 days.  I'm pretty sure I still had a bit of a fever, but I was going to go crazy if I had to stay home one more day.  And, of course, I went back to chaos.  I work at a psychiatric hospital, though, so chaos is the norm.

3.

My husband is sick now, too.  We are going to stay home this weekend.  Unfortunately, our computer with all our movies and tv shows on it died.  As in, it won't even power up.  I'm not sure how we are going to fill our sick-stay-home-and-try-to-get-better-before-Monday weekend under these circumstances.  We might not both survive the weekend.

4.

I do have to leave the house on Sunday morning to go to the fertility clinic...at 7:30 am. Argh.  Sunday will be 7dpiui, so time for my progesterone level and ultrasound to check for cysts.  Woohoo.

5.

I used to blog regularly...as in several times per week.  Obviously, that has not been happening on this blog.  But I'm going to try to be better about it.  One thing I don't like about blogging, though, is that you can't see my facial expressions.  I use my eyes and facial expressions to communicate so much, and I feel like about 50% of my communication ability is lost here. (If I remember correctly, research indicates that 80% of communication is non-verbal, and only 20% is verbal).

6.

If that's true...if 80% of communication is non-verbal, what is going to happen to human relationships as our communication is increasingly expressed through verbal (written or spoken) means.  Maybe technology is causing us to have less communication rather than more.  More of us will likely have difficulty with non-verbal communication like people with developmental disabilities (like autism and Aspergers)...maybe they are actually more functional in our technological world than those of us who do not have these "disabilities."  (This is all stream-of-consciousness, and not fully thought out ideas...I'm just 'wondering' about things).

7.

I've spent some time reading infertility blogs this week while I've been home, and I've learned so much.  I'm torn about whether or not I should try to develop relationships with others who are struggling with infertility.  I do have a couple of local friends who struggle with infertility, but I'm mostly referring to the larger pool of people accessible through blogs and message boards.  Obviously there is much support to be gained, but what happens when someone gets pregnant?  How does that change those relationships?  I'm a pretty quiet person who prefers a few close relationships over many superficial relationships, so if I started building relationships with others and then we couldn't be close anymore because our life-stage/style changed, I would really have a difficult time with that.

Bleh.

Well, I've finished one cycle of IUI, which did not work, and completed the medication and ins.emination portion of the second cycle.  I'm almost finished with my first week of the 2 week wait.  I've been sick with a horrible cold all week.  Stuck at home due to an extremely sore throat and an endlessly running nose.  I am planning to return to work tomorrow.

I've felt disconnected from this cycle of IUI.  I have had such little hope that it would work.  Ever.  I've often thought, "Pregnancy doesn't happen for women like me."  I'm not sure what I mean when I think that.  Women who have waited 11 years to pursue treatment.  Women who have waited 11 years for a baby.  Women whose moms died when they were teenagers.  Women who have so much student loan debt, which will require them to continue working even though their hearts long to be home with their long awaited child/ren.

Maybe I'm feeling disconnected because I am disconnected from this cycle.  Last month, I focused my time and energy on positive thinking and trying to understand and analyze the process.  Which, obviously, failed.  I don't know if I can take the roller coaster of hope and disappointment each month.  Even though my infertility journey has been 11 years long, I've not often focused on it for more than a couple of months at a time because I just didn't know what to do.  I didn't have health insurance to even talk to a doctor about it.  Nevermind having money to pursue fertility testing and treatment.

And now I feel like I'm so old to be beginning this process.  I'm angry that I didn't have the ability to pursue the testing and treatment when I was younger.  And I'm angry that if I don't get pregnant during this research study, I doubt we will be able to pursue further treatment (remember the student loan debt mentioned above?).

I'm scared to hope.
I'm scared not to hope.

Will I...?

"Will I lose my dignity?
Will someone care?
Will I wake tomorrow
From this nightmare?"
~Jonathan Larson, Will I?, Rent


This song has been going over and over in my mind this morning.  Mothers' Day.


My mom died almost 14 years ago.
Our baby, Ryanne, died in utero 11 years ago...on Mothers' Day.
We are still waiting for our child(ren) 11 years later...11 years of infertility.


Tomorrow, we begin our first IUI cycle.  I'm hopeful.  I'm scared.  I'm worried.  I'm excited.


I can't believe that this is my life.
I can't believe that we have infertility.
I can't believe that it's been 11 years since we lost Ryanne.
I can't believe that we have the opportunity to have IUI.


I'm trying to remain positive, and remember that even if this doesn't work, then we will at least have more information than we had before.  But I'm pretty sure I will be a wreck if we don't get pregnant in the next few months.


I'm trying to read only positive, success stories.  Often clicking off webpages where people talk about failed IUIs.  I'm listening to Circle+Bloom's mind/body meditations.


I wonder...
Will I lose my dignity?  Maybe.  Every time I sit in the office "undressed from the waist down" waiting for the doctor...every time I put my feet in the stirrups and slide all the way to the edge of the table...slivers of my dignity break away.  Will it all be gone?  How will I survive in tact?  I'm not sure, but I know that this is what I have to endure if we want to have children.  "And to think, some people who want to have a baby only need to make love," Jodi Picoult, Sing You Home, 12.


Will someone care?  Right now, I do feel as though there are many people who care.  I have numerous people who are praying for me and encouraging me.  How long will this last?  I'm not sure.  I know that over time, people get tired of hearing bad news.  I hope that we do get pregnant and people will continue to be encouraging and supportive, rather than having to tell people bad news which is discouraging to them and causes them to need to back away from me.


Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?  The truth is, I know that there are worse nightmares than being infertile.  I know that having a miscarriage is a worse nightmare.  I know that giving birth to a stillborn child is a worse nightmare.  I know that having an ill child is a worse nightmare.  I know that losing a child is a worse nightmare.  I want to wake from infertility and avoid these other types of nightmares.


My heart is hurting today.
I want my mom.
I want to be a mom.
Hopefully, by next Mothers' Day I will have some healing for my hurting heart.

Hope

My diagnosis of PCOS has been discontinued.  My hormone levels indicate that everything is normal.  This is great news, except now our diagnosis is "unexplained infertility."

"Unexplained" does not mean "there's no reason."  It just means "We don't know the reason."  Under most circumstances this would be very difficult news.  However, this 'diagnosis' qualifies us for a clinical research study for women with unexplained infertility.  It will allow us to receive treatment, including IUIs in the hopes of achieving pregnancy.  We are not yet officially in the study, but we are pre-qualified, so it looks good.

Our friends, who have experienced years of infertility and treatments, have now adopted a baby who was born yesterday!  God's guidance and leading led to this miracle child.  The story is theirs, but it gives us hope.  Hope that God has not forgotten us, and that He continues to have a plan for the desire to have children...a desire He placed in our hearts.

Every 28-35 days

Disappointment.
Pain.
Agony.
Curled in a ball.
Medicine every 4 or 6 hours.
Boxes of tampons.
Exhaustion.
Worry.
Questioning--
     Can I cope?
     Is there hope?
     Should I give up?
     How much longer?
     Am I a wimp?
     What is wrong with me?
     What's the point?
...Do I give up now and end the pain?
...Or do I continue to endure month after month,
       Hoping that may next month will be THE month.

My Mommy

Today, I miss MY mommy.

I think it is so unfair that I don't have my mom AND I don't get to be a mom.

She would have been 53 this month, if she were still alive.

But, she never even got to be 40.

I want my mommy.

Sometimes it feels like nothing will ever be okay because she's gone.