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losing control

I tried yesterday to come up with some clever way of saying this, but with no success. Another negative cycle. I’m sad, disappointed, frustrated, but I’m also ok.

I keep getting signs from the universe that I need to work on acceptance. I won’t go into all my woo-woo stuff right now, but the signs have been coming from many directions. Most recently this brilliant post from Deathstar, and then the comment from Eden on my last post: “It can be good, to have no skin. Then you can really see who you are.” So many tears of recognition, and then tears of gratitude for both of them and for all my sisters out there who help me see myself and my own path so much more clearly and with more compassion.

And tears also as the knowledge seeps into my bones, just a little bit more, that I’m not in control. That I cannot earn a child, no matter what I do. And it’s not that my efforts to care for my heart and my body don’t matter. It’s just that I’m not in control.

It hurts, but in the clear, fresh way it hurts to take a breath of air just newly arrived from the Arctic. Because it is the truth.  Because things are as they are, and all I can do is open my heart.

shooting up at work

Why yes, I did. I even did it in my belly instead of my thigh, just for a change. Now it’s itchy and I’m trying not to scratch. Good times. 

Had my scan this morning to find that despite my feeling crampy and bloated on the right side especially, my trusty left ovary has delivered the winner once again. A very tender 19.5 mm follicle – I was really wincing during the probulation this morning. My right side had 2 smaller ones (didn’t ask for the numbers), and my lining is at a fairly skinny 5.7, but since I’m not having my dIUI until tomorrow afternoon, they say not to worry about it as it will likely grow.  I’m not going to stress too much since there’s nothing I can do beyond whispering tender encouragement to my endometrium. Not to say I won’t do that, too, but I’m trying lately to not get caught up in the numbers. Knowing them just makes me crazy, and even though I’m compelled to ask for them anyway, I am clinging to the thought that lots of people get pregnant with a skinny lining, or a moderate follicle, or whatever, and nobody ever knows cause it happens mysteriously and in secret and spontaneously, without everybody and their dog peering in to get a look.  So there, numbers and purveyors of numbers. 

Manny has to be away for work tomorrow, so he won’t be with me for the IUI. I’m trying to think about who to ask to come with me – probably someone from my women’s group who knows the score. It’ll be weird not having Manny there, but my superstitious side is looking for things that will be different, and so I’m wondering if this will be what changes our luck so far. Also, we’re using a brand new donor with a proven track record of reported pregnancies, which our last donor didn’t have. I’m feeling very good and hopeful about it all. It was fun all over again picking the new donor – it’s sort of weird that it’s so much fun, but it is. Mostly we just laugh at the ones we would never pick, and the randomness of some of the things people include in their profiles. It went quicker this time – I guess we’re both more in tune with what we’re looking for, and more trusting of our instincts. And I’m also trusting Manny more that he’s not just doing what I want to keep me happy – that he’s expressing his own opinions, too. Which is a huge fucking relief, let me tell you. The power struggles over “Are you doing this because this is what you want or because you think it’s what I want?”  and “Why don’t you believe me when I say this is what I want?” and the subsequent hair-pulling-out-ing by yours truly and the “Well, if you had ever once disagreed with me about anything I might have a fucking half a clue that you are capable of standing up for your own desires, but since you never have, I’m constantly wondering whether I’m railroading you into a whole lot of immense life decisions” were exhausting. Really exhausting. Glad we seem to be past that for the moment. 

So tomorrow at 3:30 I will be being sperminated for hopefully the last time in a long while. Wish me luck, internets.

how a dog walk turns into a real estate transaction

So Sunday we were walking Lucky, and stumbled upon an open house right across the street from two of our good friends, and down the block from literally 4 more. And we figure what’s the harm in looking, right?

Yeah, right. So the house is great, and we leave thinking, “What’s the harm in talking to the bank and seeing what we could do?” So this week has spiralled into meetings with realtors, the bank, house appraisers and the like. We have a portable storage unit sitting in our backyard which is quickly being filled with absurd amounts of clutter, so we can list the house tomorrow or as soon as the sellers of the house we want accept a conditional offer. It’s a bit of a squeeze money wise, but we would never have to move again if we bought this other house. 

It’s all very exciting and exhausting right now. But it is a very good distraction from the following:

• I keep having pangs of very slight nausea.
• I am starving all the time and when I start to feel hungry, I need to eat immediately.
• I am tired all the time.
• I had cramping on Sunday and Monday.
• Mucus and other precious bodily fluids. Everywhere.
• If I don’t get my period, I will have to wait until day 35 for a beta. That will be November 14th, folks. There is no way I can wait that long without peeing on all kinds of sticks. I tend to err on the side of not PingOAS but this month will just have to be different. God, I hope it’s different. 

Between possibly moving  and possibly being pregnant, I’m not sure what I’m doing half the time. But I’m most certainly occupied.

dream power?

So just before I woke up, I had a dream that I was spotting. And in my dream I thought I should pee on a stick, so I did and it was positive, just barely. (Well actually, there were 3 lines, but in the dream that was a positive.) The dream was so mundane and real that when I woke up, I  randomly took my temperature to see whether it had crashed, so I would have some notice if I was getting my period. It was still high, so I figured I get one more day of hope. But then I went to the bathroom, only to find that I’m spotting. And of course I only discovered that after releasing all my precious first morning urine!

Fuck. Either it’s bad news (most likely), which sucks but means I’ll find out soon enough if it’s my period starting up, or it’s good news, which would totally fucking rock but means I’ll have to be a lot more patient to find out. It’s quite early for me to get my period but my cycle has been very short this time around, so I have no idea. Probably it’s just my period. Of course it’s just my period! What do I think – that I’m going to get pregnant?! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK! Of course I have just enough information to drive me insane, not enough to calm me down, and too much to just forget about entirely. Why did I stick that damn thermometer in my mouth? Why?!

And I don’t want to pee on a stick in case the hCG is still lingering around and I get a false positive and then that will really be a mindfuck. No, it’s better to wait. And maybe have ice cream for breakfast.

Last week, I was such a waiting rockstar, and around Friday or Saturday I started to go insane. Every single little thing was making my mind race around like a balloon you had just blown up and then let go of. At the moment I feel like the withered balloon that has landed in a corner where nobody can reach and will just stay there for a few months and get covered up with dust.

hearing the news & an overdue update

So last night I had a long talk with a friend and fellow infertile. Really, she’s more of a friend of my sister’s but I’ve known her since we were all kids. Recently, we bonded over our common struggle to get pregnant (sometimes I feel dumb saying this, since there’s been no way I could possibly get pregnant until a couple months ago, and therefore it’s not exactly like I’ve been trying, but I digress.) While both my sisters and their other best friend and seemingly every single woman we know was getting pregnant, K and I were getting left behind and wallowing in our bitterness and sadness. When we first had a real talk about our respective experiences, it felt so good – it was before I had started blogging, and I hadn’t really talked to anyone else who had experienced this unique pain themselves. And I don’t think she had either, so it was so huge for both of us.

And so a couple nights ago, when I had a message to call her, I should have guessed what was up. But I’m dense, sometimes, and I didn’t really think about it. I just figured she was checking in as we tend to do every so often. But of course she wasn’t. She was calling to tell me that she, after her first cycle of Clomid, was pregnant. With twins.

But before you go thinking that it was a tough pill to swallow, and I had to suck up my rage the way I did with so many other people’s tellings of their news, all I felt was glad for her. Because she was committed to telling me herself and not having me hear it from my sister or my parents or anyone else who knows us both. She, even though we’re only newly establishing a friendship of our own, had promised herself she would deliver this news herself. More than that, she delivered it skillfully and with compassion, yet without apology. I’ve been told of other people’s pregnancies with a sort of cringing dread which, while I appreciate the intention to be gentle with me, always makes me feel hideously pathetic. There was no cringing dread last night, just honesty. Just a knowledge that hearing this news can hurt, but what can hurt more is the judging of the hurt because we think we should be happy, and getting wrapped up in the story about how awful we are because we cannot even be happy for our own dear friend, or dear sister, or whoever. It’s joyful news, after all. So it was kind of all on the table last night, and we both knew it, and in that space, I was able to be happy for her.

It felt good.

As for the update, I’m now 2 days into the 2ww! I was feeling so positive about it until my temps didn’t go up the last two mornings the way the book says they’re supposed to, so I think I’m going to stop temping. Cause it’s just making me crazy, and making me think that unless I’m displaying the perfect pattern of temps that it’s impossible for me to get pregnant, yet all the while my brain is coming up with rationalizations about how the thermometer could be broken, or it’s a weird part of the hcG shot, since my temps were slow to rise last month, too, but not the month before that, which was the first month I ever charted and which was totally textbook, so of course it has become the gold standard for how my body should be behaving, or thoughts that maybe my temps are not showing the pattern because I’m getting up earlier these days, or sleeping with fewer covers because it’s summer, and on and on and on. And frankly, I’m tired of my brain doing this. I’d much rather use my energy for praying, or cleaning my house, or hanging out with friends, or making plans for my garden, or sewing. Pretty much anything other than tending to my anxieties.

And thank you all so much for your excellent comments to my last post. I feel like I need to respond, cause there were some really good questions raised, and they’ve got me thinking about all of this whole healing stuff again, and how it all ties in to infertility and our hearts and the whole of our lives. And, you know, everything. I’ll get to it eventually, but in the meantime, thanks for your great responses and very thoughtful comments. So much appreciated, you have no idea.

no news is good news

I’m still plugging away. Mostly feeling totally great about the 2ww and also feeling very loved by friends in real life and people here. And feeling so incredibly grateful for this community – reading all the comments for Lollipop Goldstein’s blogoversary was amazing. I’m at least as kumbaya as Mel is, and lately I’ve just been feeling so warm and fuzzy about you all. So thanks, dear ones, for being there and telling your story and listening to mine and for, well, everything. I know I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating on at least a monthly basis.

Other than kumbaya, I’m feeling completely normal. Of course last month’s raging PMS symptoms were a sign as I toughed out the 2ww, and now, of course, this month’s lack of any symptoms is a sign. But I’m not freaking out about anything so far – my temps have been up, and Clare is right in her comment on my last post – there’s not a whole lot I can do about it now, so might as well relax and have fun.

My poppies are blooming in tremendous size and number, right along with my gorgeous peonies. I promise pictures soon, but it’s getting way past my bedtime, so I bid you all good night and sweet dreams.

fickle dee dee!

Oh, my sweet earnest little self! You’re so cute, how fickle you are!

I peed on a stick this morning, and it was negative. Because I’m spotting a little bit, and my temperature went down slightly. So this could be two things – it could be the start of my period, as it usually starts with spotting for a day before the deluge, and that would explain the temp dropping, although the drop was only slight and didn’t go below my coverline. I wasn’t expecting my period until Saturday, but I have been taking my supplements more regularly and sticking to my food restrictions, both of which contribute to me having a slightly shorter cycle. OR it could be implantation bleeding, a little on the late side but within the range of normal from the various things I’ve read. Today is 11dpo. And if that’s what it is, then it’s normal for the test to be negative cause the little bean sprouts only start producing hCG once they implant, right?

Oh, dudes! Whatever I thought about the 2ww being hard is out the window. The next day or so is going to bite! Here is where my neurosis will really kick in – I’m now kind of expecting that it’s most likely my period coming a bit early. But my hope is still around, and my mind will be doing all kinds of wondering today. I’m sure I’ll be running off to the toilet every 20 minutes to check on the state of the nation report in my panties.

Ack! I’m really ok either way, but the wondering is going to be rough today.

ramblings

This will be short, but since I was hoping to post more frequently now that NaComLeavMo is on, and have so far miserably failed, I’m going to figure out something to write anyway.

Started my new job on Monday. So far so awesome. It’s totally different from what I did before, which was incredibly high stress. This is basically doing paperwork in an office with one other person in it – the job description is clear, we have a great collective agreement so the hours of work are sweet, plus great benefits, and I’ve spent the last 2 days training and I’m catching on pretty well, so far. And the pay doesn’t even suck! So I am stoked about that, cause if I get knocked up, I’ll have a good level of pay to use for my maternity leave. For you Americans, I don’t even want to tell you how good we have it up here, but you get a percentage of your pay (I think it’s 55%)for a year. And certain employers will top it up – I think mine does, but I’m not sure if I’ll qualify as my job is a one-year contract at this point. We’ll see – I’m mostly just happy I’ll have enough weeks of work to qualify for an awesome part of Candian life.

I found a shopping paradise today – the top floor of a local business, filled with cute dresses and funky clothes of all sorts, all on major sale. I got a ridiculously beautiful frock for $10, and scored a really beautiful spring trench coat in a pearly oyster grey with a smocked detail in the back for half price. The place looked like my teenage room, which looks a lot like my current room – clothes everywhere and a complete mess. Fun!

On the 2ww front, I have practically convinced myself we’re headed for a BFP. If it’s not, I’m sure I’ll be pretty disappointed, but I’m managing to hold things pretty lightly so far. (Although it might not seem like it!) And I have yet to POAS, which I’m pretty proud of. I decided, and Manny also likes the idea, that for now, we get to enjoy the possibility. I’m crampy, which seems like not such a good sign, but I don’t think I usually get crampy before my period. One of the other reasons I’m not wanting to POAS is that I’m paying much closer attention to my body right now than I ever have before. This is my first month temping and stuff, and I’m using the “Taking Charge of Your Fertility” software to chart temps and notes on this cycle, so I’m putting in all the little things I’m noticing, like the sore boobs, and the hunger, and the tiredness.

So we’ll see when we do the blood draw, I guess. I need to call my clinic tomorrow and find out if I’m really supposed to go in on Saturday or if they’d prefer Friday. My clinic is housed in the hospital here, and it’s not really a clinic, although they do treatments. But it’s not a private fertility clinic, so while they do make themselves available for procedures on weekends, they’re not really set up for doing a whole lot. Plus I wouldn’t mind getting some info a wee bit early!

Not so short, I guess. The mighty Kate’s mojo must be rubbing off on me.

Oh, and NaComLeavMo rules! It’s crazy fun!

sign, sign, everwhere a sign

Goddamnit, I’m weak. Weak of mind. I have still been enjoying the hopeful possibility of right now, but I’ve also been obsessing over every detail. I’m super tired every day? A sign. I have a weird patch of eczema-like scaly skin around my mouth? A sign. The fact that this is the month in which Mother’s Day, my parents’ and my in-laws’ wedding anniversaries, Manny’s birthday, and probably lots of other important sign-y events fall? A sign. Constant hunger and ability to eat literally twice as many Korean short ribs as Manny the other night? A sign. Occasional heartburn? A sign. The fact that I have yet to have any other symptoms? A sign. The fact that I just planted a WHOLE SCHWACK-LOAD OF SEEDS IN MY FERTILE, WELL-CARED-FOR, ORGANIC GARDEN? A serious mother-fucking sign.

Never mind reason, never mind the fact that every single one of these facts can easily be explained away, except my face-plague, which could be down to me having eaten eggs a few times last week, or my delicious home-made granola which I’ve been eating every single day since I made it last Sunday, but I don’t know why that would be the problem, unless I’ve suddenly developped an allergy to something I was never allergic to before. But if I did, that’s probably a sign.

Bloody hell, friends. I’m making myself mental. I got 5 free home pregnancy tests when I ordered my OPKs online, and they would all be pee-soaked by now if I thought it would do me any good.

All your wonderful wishes and advice on surviving the 2ww have been fantastic. Except didn’t someone say that it’s really the second week that is the worst? If that turns out to be true in my case, I am so utterly fucked.

My clinic will do a blood draw on day 35, which is next Saturday, provided I haven’t got my period by then. I didn’t ask if they do day 35 because that’s how long my cycles usually are, or if that’s just coincidentally the day they do them. Almost certainly the former. But my wait-addled mind is taking it as a sign anyway.