Hello, again.

It's been a while. Way too long. Like 6 months too long.

The up-to-date-ing will definitely be broken up as 6m is way too much to pack into a single post.

Life has really been a whirlwind since Lucy's birth (probably before it if I'm totally honest). Ups and downs, lots of highs and possibly more lows. Lots of beginnings and too many ends.

There are other reasons I haven't written other than time because in truth, I could make time to do a few sentences if I had really wanted to. There were times that I came close, but just couldn't. I'm pretty certain I had a decent spell of PP depression. Whether that was compounded or caused by a host of issues including finances, nursing issues, reflux and dairy intolerance (for which I went and still am dairy-free in my diet) from Lucy, I'm not sure. I am sure that there was lots of crying in this house, though I don't know which of us 2 cried more.

Things would get better, then something would happen, and BAM- down I went. Some times it was something big, but mostly not. I felt guilty a lot for not truly enjoying Lucy like I did Em in that newborn honeymoon phase. Once the reflux and screaming/crying kicked up at ~2.5w, I was doubting myself as a mother, our decision to have a 2nd, everything almost.

Things got a bit better around 4-5m PP. Then lil miss over-achiever decides to start army crawling. Yes, at 5m. I was already having huge issues coming to terms with being done. This kid seems to feel the need to shove it back in my face by being in such a hurry to grow up and not let me revel in this last age of babydom. That hasn't slowed down any, either. She was sitting unassisted at 6m. Full on hands and knees crawling before 7m. Teeth at 7m. Pulling up at 7.5m. Edging before 8m. And now, just shy of 9m, she's been trying to stand unassisted and walk. She just doesn't understand "SLOW DOWN!"

Em is growing way too fast as well. She already get sarcasm. Can dress herself from head to toe on her own. Use the bathroom all alone. Grasp hard concepts like relationships like grandma= daddy's mom and aunt is cousin's mom, and harder ones like illness and death. She's been Forward facing in dad's car for a while now and about to turn in mine. Helps with chores, some unassisted and other big kid things that make me want to cry and cradle her like a newborn again.

The IF jealousy, frustration, and spite/rage have returned as people I know get knocked up on accident from just 1 time and other fertile-myrtle crap. I've also had to revisit the loss emotions in comforting several friends as they endured heart-wrenching losses- a missed miscarriage that required 2 D&Cs and a miscarriage from a surprise pregnancy after testicular cancer surgery and chemo treatment. That was all topped off with a friend of a friend (who lives a few neighborhoods over from me) having her labor end in a stillbirth.

While there has been so much joy in my life these last 6m, there has been so incredibly much loss and heartache. The biggest of which was the news my FIL had lung cancer, followed by it metastasizing to his liver, chemo not fully working and it spreading to his brain and bones which radiation helped with slightly until it spread systemically. We got the call at the tail end of good friend's wedding that we needed to go visit ASAP if we wanted to say goodbye. He passed 2 days later on May 4th. I still hurt for the Boy, for Em, for Lucy who will never really remember him, for my MIL who lost her best friend of almost 43yrs and for his faithful choc lab that is still waiting by the windows and doors for him to come home over a month later. Telling and explaining it to Emma was quite possibly the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Seeing her cry at his viewing about killed me. I still can't talk or write about any of that without immediately welling up with tears if not full blown crying or sobbing.

As it is now 10:30pm, I'm crying and have a headache from the immensity of those last 4 paragraphs, have been sleeping for crap due to a teething almost-9 month old, and need to go nurse said child to sleep now, I'll wind this "quick update" post that turned word- and emotion-vomit up.

Hello, again, blogging world. I've missed so much! Enjoy this picture.

Infertility - The Gift that keeps on giving, and giving, and giving..

Here I am, practically 11m out from being "cured" of my IF with the glorious birth of my baby girl.

And yet, why does a pregnancy announcement still gut me?

Truth be told, it's not just a PG announcement, but a "surprise pregnancy/oopsie" announcement.

I found out on Friday from a friend/co-worker that the co-worker that irritates the daylights out of me on a regular basis had posted on FB that she was expecting a baby boy.

If we rewind to about 1.5-2m ago, I had suspicions that she was pregnant based off behavior and belly shape. I went to check out her FB page as we were friends on there. Or so I thought. De-friended. Oh well, and I shoved it to the back of my mind. Fast forward to a few weeks ago, and I was practically positive she was due to behavior, belly shape, and wardrobe choices. Hubs convinced me that I'm just trying to see babies where there aren't any as I'm "baby-crazy". Besides, Not but a few months before when she was complaining that her BF hadn't popped the question and they'd been together for X yrs, she explicitly stated that she wants kids with him, but much much farther down the line.

Guess that line was much shorter than she thought.

It was also relayed to me that she didn't know she was pregnant until she was about 3m along. How in the World?!?! I thought she was pregnant at that point; how come she was just finding out then? And shockingly, that timing coincided well with them getting engaged.

How on earth is it fair for her to get pregnant on super accident and then to skip out on teh the worry, anxiety and fear of the 1st trimester?

I tried to be the bigger person and sent her a message over the weekend to congratulate them with no response. Monday morning, I sent her a health and safety form that needed to be filled out updating her "status" that really should have been done around the 12-16w mark, not at 5m along. From that stand point though, she really should have told me sooner. If you've told other people in the lab (students, etc), then maybe it would be behoove you to also inform the lab/safety manager so that things can be put into process and your unborn fetus can be protected from potential hazards that you may not be aware of in a laboratory setting?

I tried to suck it all up yesterday and be nice, polite and attempt interactivity. This morning, I knew that was going to be a failure. I couldn't stand being around her and her blase attitude regarding something so many people would give anything to have. I was blinking back tears every time I saw her and her no longer concealed bulging belly.

Each time, it was as if all the fear and hurt and anger from loss and IF came slamming back to me. I kept feeling on the verge of breaking down. I had to do something about it, so I had a little "chat" with her supervisor/my co-worker. I had to fill her in that we went through a lot to have Emma and as such, being around her the last 2 days of it being "official", I just am not handling it well. When it was just my hunch and all, I could just play it off as "She's just fatter now" or that I was seeing things like the Boy said. But with it being really real, I just can't deal with her at the moment. I hated having to have that talk. I had hoped that I could be really professional about it and just bite it back, but alas, IF wins again. Thankfully, she understood and is going to help as best she can to minimize our interactions for a while.

It was still awkward, but at least I wasn't in tears the rest of the day. I hate this so much. I wish there was a cure for IF and the damage it does was easily repaired...

Father's Day can Suck for Men, too.

I generally don't do this, but I just had to write this post. It was prompted by an email I received completely out of the blue.

This is a part of the ALI community that is seldom heard from, because they have to be "strong." One particular statement got to me and made me feel a bit sad that the Boy felt he had to remain strong and support me through the miscarriage. I don't truly know if he wanted to grieve, but felt like he couldn't.

"During this time, I discovered that these “silent grievers” actually
hungered to share their stories, to speak their children’s names aloud and
describe what had happened."

They are trying to raise funding to publish and promote this book on their own as major publishers "mentioned that this is an honorable book, but men typically do not buy these types of books. Basically, they were saying that this book couldn’t be profitable enough for them to invest in it."

I'm sure I'm not the only one that disagrees with this and feel it just another barrier that the rest of the world puts up to prevent IF and loss from receiving the attention and support that other medical conditions do as it is "uncomfortable." I would have loved to have been able to purchase this book for Hubs after our loss. My heart breaks to know that a book like this does need to and actually does exist and that the authors had to suffer such tragic losses (after IF) themselves. It helps though to know that I can take part in making this resource available for others that undeserving find themselves in that position and situations.

I would really appreciate it if you would take just a few moments to go to the site and read about the project as well as contribute to it, either financially or with your own story.

The Cruelty of Infertility

I just read 2 posts that just completely broke my heart (1 by Courtney @ Bodega Bliss and 1 by Elphie @ Alice in Diaperland, formerly Yolk).

Mo of Mommy Odyssey had her water break at 22w. She is being monitored in the hope that it will replenish, otherwise her little boy is likely not ot make it.

She has gone through so much to get a viable pregnancy and even with her current. How can life be so cruel as to have someone go through RPL, loss of a tube, and everything else she's had to endure, then give her so much hope and joy only to rip it from her?

I don't even know what else to say... Please, go and give her some love and support as her,  Shmerson and their little Shmaby deal with this unfortunate turn of events. And if you happen to be one of the lucky ones, like I am, hold your child close and appreciate them for the miracles they are.

Another less than Super Sunday

There wasn't anything wrong with the actual day. I wasn't disappointed by the game as I didn't care if the Pats or the Giants won. All in all, it was a really average day.

But the daggers of IF struck again. I've already been dealing with the anniversary of the miscarriage this week. The last thing I wanted was to deal with a pregnancy announcement. But guess what?

My SIL, the one that was previously referred to as PG-SIL and threw the shower for me, is 7 or 8w pregnant. They have their 1st ultrasound for this pregnancy on Valentine's day. They were planning on telling us while we were over to watch the Big Game last night, but I happened to see "Ultrasound" written on their calendar.

I'm happy for them and glad it only took them the 2 treatment cycles of Clomid this time (although I don't think the clomid is specifically needed in their case as she ovulates fine and only seems to need a bit of progesterone support). But I didn't want to find out about it this week! The previous week would have been perfectly OK; next week would have worked, too. I just wanted to cry the rest of the evening.

WTF, Infertility!? It's been a year, and yet, the emotions seem just as strong and raw as they were then. Should they have lessened drastically by now, given time and the fact that I now have a beautiful, little daughter? Why does every pregnancy announcement still hurt? Why do I get angry and resentful when I hear people talk about how easy it was for them or how quickly it happened?

Thanks, Infertility and Loss for embittering me to happy news like this and for not letting me fully move on from it all...

This time last year...

This time last year was so starkly different from this time this year.

This time last year, I was miscarrying my 1st ever and highly improbable pregnancy. My heart was heavy and hurting, but I was coming to terms with it and starting the healing process. I didn't know if it was possible for us to conceive again. I was feeling a bit worn down with the whole TTC ordeal. Almost thinking that it was pointless and if all the trouble and disappointment was even worth it.

This year, I know it all was worth it and then some. While I haven't forgotten the loss and heartache of last year, having Emma here this year makes it easier to bear. I now know that all the medications, appts, negative pregnancy tests, and everything has paid off, in spades. This year, I am not living in my pj's, swollen and puffy eyes, and dulling the pain with alcohol. This year, I'm living in my pj's, dark circles under my eyes, and joy in my heart. And today, while writing this post up, I was treated to the wonder of Emma's 1st intentional smile at me. In that instance, all the grief and hardship of TTC and loss melted away (at least for a while).

This year, I'm happy.

An Over-achiever not achieving at conceiving

What happens to an over-achiever that is not achieving? They aren’t under-achieving or just meeting expectations. They just aren’t achieving.

What happens is they start to lose IT.

Sanity.

Self-confidence.

Emotional stability.

Control.

All of IT.

Just gone.

No matter the past accomplishments and victories, whatever is being un-achieved dwarfs them in comparison, shrinking their importance. They don’t seem so great or as impressive as they use to be. The shine has been dulled and tarnished, shadowed by the non-achieved looming before the OA.

It is heart-wrenching. Utterly devastating. Completely stagnant. Totally me.

Right now, I am on a paper that is being submitted to one of the most prestigious scienctific journals. I’ve been working on this project for almost 3yrs now. I’m 4^th author out of about 20. It’s huge! The OA in me would be a bit smug and excited that so much work and effort has finally paid off, Big Time!

Instead, I would trade it all in, without batting an eyelash, to be pregnant right now. I would hand over my graduate degree, my position of importance and authority in the lab, my fairly decent paycheck, and 4^th author status on a ground-breaking paper/project for a baby. Not a moment of hesitation.

OA’s don’t do that! The point of over-achieving is to prove your worth, to get you where you want to be, to prove that you can do things and do them freaking well! Being recognized for a job well-done is the whole reason I over-achieve! I don’t work my butt of for things just to turn around and drop them.

It is a bit strange to think about it this way, but I have put far more effort into making (and keeping) a potential baby than I have into probably anything else in my entire adult life (save my marriage- constant effort that is well worth it). I’ve put loads of time into it. Researching. Reading. Practicing. I’ve invested large amounts of money into it. Doctor appts. Medications, vitamins, supplements. Opks and hpts. And yet, no matter how much time, money or effort I put into the baby equation, I don’t get the correct answer, the desired outcome.

With the input I’ve given to this whole “creating life” project, I would be expecting something like triplets to be the end product if I were to compare it to completely unrelated past experiences. Instead, I have negative product. Debt. Wasted time (can’t get back those hours I spent looking for positions/vitamins/chants/crystals to increase my chances of pregnancy). Loss.

I haven’t achieved. Nor have I under-achieved. I’ve just made no real, tangible progress. That is a hard pill to swallow for me- and that’s saying something given the number of medications I’m ingesting on a daily basis at this point. I can’t say I’m failing, because I’m not. One doesn’t fail if they are trying their best and making the effort. I’m just un-succeeding. Un-achieving. Un-pregnant. Feeling more and more Un-me.