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2013: The Year of Possibility

5 Jan

Well, ladies and (at least) one gentleman, 2013 has arrived at last. Never in the history of me have I wanted a year to be over more than I wanted to watch 2012 go down in flames. I don’t think I am alone in this sentiment. Everywhere I look it seems people are saying good riddance to the suckage that was 2012 and eagerly anticipating the promise that 2013 holds. I would be a fool to deny the probability of terrible things happening in this new year, but from where I am standing, it couldn’t possibly be worse that the year that just ended. Wood! Wood! Must find wood to knock on!

I lost the use of my foot for a few months. I lost my baby. I lost my husband. I hope I’m not the only one that senses the recurring theme. Loss. 2012 was a year of profound losses. Losses that I will never totally recover from; losses that have changed who I am fundamentally as a woman. As a human. And yet, this vantage point where I currently stand allows me to see that in great loss comes great perspective. In the face of loss, one only has to wait for hope to set in. It’s a natural cycle that each and every one of us knows by heart.

Tonight I find myself reflecting on the past year, but eagerly anticipating the year that lies ahead and the possibility that it contains.

I may have lost, but I am not lost. In fact, as each day passes I accept the idea that this year will the exact opposite of losing. This year will be about growth, gaining, and giggling. And I am keeping my heart open to all the endless possibilities that lie before me.

2013 is going to be a good year. It simply has to be.

Now to answer your questions from a previous post, as promised….

So what is your new job? Are you doing what you went to school for? And tell us about college please!

Since February, I have been working for a solar company. It’s a pretty small place so we all wear a lot of different hats. Mostly I am responsible for helping my clients with getting their grants and tax credits from the federal, state, and local governments. My recent promotion involves doing the entire financing aspect. It is not even close to what I went to school for. I have an English Literature degree–also knows as the most worthless degree known to man. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVED studying literature in college, it just didn’t really help me once I graduated.

College was pretty boring for me….I didn’t go until I was about 23 so all the other students were younger than me and all my friends had already graduated. I commuted to school so I basically went to campus, did what I had to do, and got the hell out of there.

Now that you and your husband are split, are you at all grateful that kids didn’t work out for you two?

I am totally split on this question.

On one hand, I am so glad that we aren’t dragging a child into this mess. It would only make things so much more complicated for everyone involved.

On the other hand, since I know that infertility was a huge factor in our split, I can’t help but wonder if we had a child if things would be different for us. Then there is the whole I’m getting old thing…would having a baby on my own and through a separation be better than having no baby at all? The selfish side of me wants to say yes, but the logical side of me knows the right answer.

How are your feelings towards your husband? Are you full of animosity and frustration…b/c you have come across so strong and patient and kind…if it were me, I feel like I would want to hurt him! When is he moving out and what are his next steps? Has he resigned yet and where does he plan on getting all this money to travel the world? In the past several years you have been married, has he ever talked about the open marriage thing, or now looking back can you see where this all started?

Ok…that’s a lot to cover. I’ll see if I can manage 🙂

My feelings toward my husband are complicated. That’s the short answer. We still get along pretty well as long as we aren’t talking about us or our future. He is still one of my best friends. I love him for who he is, but I hate him for what he is doing to our family. I want to hug him to show him my love, but I also want to hit him to show him my anger. I am beyond frustrated, but I can’t say that I harbor any animosity. When you know someone as well as I know him, then it’s easy to see where their motivations lie and I know that he isn’t doing this to hurt me. But just like I had to put myself first sometimes in the past, now he has to put himself first. I can’t talk him out of this and I can’t change his mind. All I can do is let him know where I stand. Make him aware of the risk he is taking by making this decision. At least this is how I feel today. If you ask me tomorrow then you might get a completely different answer.

He is in the process of moving out. He has always been such a procrastinator and I can imagine that it’s hard walking away from the comforts of your home. But, this is the decision that he has made and in order to offer my support, I am bringing home boxes from work and “encouraging” him to get the hell out just as fast as he can. He’ll be staying with his brother until I can find a roommate to share our house with me. Once I have a roommate then he will be looking for his own teeny, tiny apartment. We split the money up in a way that made sense for us and once we are separated, I have no say in how he spends his money. I assume he will just save as much as he can as fast as he can in order to travel the world.

Open marriage has come up in the past but never as a possibility for us. A couple that is close friends of ours have an open relationship and we have spent much time discussing that idea but not in a way that applied to our own marriage. At least not from my perspective. Who knows what he was thinking?

I would like to hear more about this date. 

I’ve decided to not write about my dating life on my blog. I really hate to censor myself in that way, but I feel I need to for my own protection. Things are quite amicable between my husband and I, currently. I would really like for it to stay that way. If we do end up getting back together then I don’t want him to have access to everything I did while he was gone. And if we don’t get back together then I don’t want my words being used against me. I have to protect myself legally, you know?

But if you really want to know, email me for the details 😉

Now back to my 2013 “resolution”…..I’m writing a book! I have always wanted to do it and I think now is the perfect time. I suppose it’s going to be memoir-ish. Oddly enough, I’ve had enough shit happen to me in my 29 years to actually fill an entire book. However, the focus is going to be my infertility and collapse of my marriage–all the choices I made and that were made for me that led me to this point. I’m hoping that by the time I finish, I will have a happy ending to add.

And then, Lifetime can buy the movie rights. Because if the last year of my life doesn’t read like a Lifetime Movie of the Week then I don’t know what does.

Happy New Year, Ladies!

Love. Love. Love

 

 

 

 

Happy Holidays

24 Dec

It’s Christmas Eve and I miss my baby.

When I first found out that I was pregnant one of the first things that I did was sign up for pregnancy updates from BabyCenter. I still get those updates every week and for some reason I can’t bring myself to unsubscribe. Today I would be 11 weeks pregnant, but instead I’m sitting here, utterly alone, on Christmas Eve. I know that I am only torturing myself. I know it’s cruel that I continue to subject myself to these weekly reminders of what was and what will never be, but I can’t stop. I can’t forget. I can’t move on.

Today should be a happy day. My husband and  I should be opening our one present tonight. We have a tradition is which we buy an ornament every year that somehow captures something big that happened over the previous year. We always open that ornament together on Christmas Eve. This year it would have been an ornament to celebrate my finally being pregnant. But instead, both my uterus and my bed are empty. I am separated, childless, and feeling so very alone.

I know that the holidays are a difficult time for us infertiles. I’m now just learning that the holidays are also a difficult time for us single ladies, as well. And when the two are combined? Well, the word difficult doesn’t even begin to describe what I am feeling. Impossible, maybe. But then I don’t have the option of impossible. Tomorrow I have to get up and do it all over again. I have to find a way to make it possible to live my life regardless of what my current circumstances are.

I know that I am strong. I know that I deserve to be happy. I know that I will get through this. But for tonight, I am choosing to embrace my sadness because while, I know that I deserve to be happy, I also know that I deserve to be sad. I refuse to harbor any guilt over the fact that tears fall from my eyes every time I stop and think about my predicament. I refuse to make excuses for my anger because I damn well should be angry. One day I will be happy. One day this pregnancy will be but a distant memory. One day I will move on from my marriage. However, today is not that day. Today I am sad, bitter, and angry. And that is exactly where I want to be. I am giving myself permission to not apologize for my feelings.

Merry Christmas Ladies. And I mean that so sincerely. I hope you all find a reason to smile and a way to embrace your own sadness because I am here to tell you that it is okay to feel that way.

Love. Love. Love.

wish

How I Made Friends With The Rude Girl In The Waiting Room and other Updates

5 Dec

I know that I have been MIA, but I have been so drained emotionally on so many fronts that I haven’t felt the desire to write. Probably because that would mean having to rehash everything when I would much prefer to just turn my brain off. Besides, what I am even supposed to write about? I’m still bleeding. I’m still in pain. My ectopic is still on it’s way to working itself out. I’m an effing broken record these days.

Anyway…where was I? Oh yes, my new rude friend.

This morning I had to go in for blood work and an ultrasound. The lab is on the first floor and opens at 7. My RE’s ultrasound clinic is on a first come, first serve basis and opens at 7:15. The goal for both offices is to get there early and be the first one on both lists. I’ve mastered this technique: I get to the lab at 6:45 and wait patiently outside until it opens at 7 and be out of the lab by 7:05. Run up the three flights of stairs and be the first one on the sign up sheet for the u/s. I get called first at 7:15 and I’m out of there by 7:30. Works like a charm.

Today went according to plan. I was the first one in line at the lab. Then a man joined me as second in line. Then another woman came up third. However, she walked right into the lab ahead of me and signed her name first on the sign-in sheet. Before I could say “how rude” a la Stephanie Tanner, she started telling me all about how she tried to get upstairs to put her name on the u/s list so she could be first, but the door was still locked so she came down here and needs to hurry up and get back upstairs. She was a newbie, this was her first time. She was a teacher and I don’t have to be at work until 10am. So, I decided not to make a big deal out of her cutting in line.

She immediately started asking me a million questions about femara, PCOS, trigger shots, u/s, timed intercourse, you name it. But that wasn’t the strange part. It was the fact that I actually knew the answers to her questions. And I don’t even have PCOS! Which, by the way, she kept calling PCO–just goes to show how new she is to this game. It made me long for the days of being a naive fertile, blindly hoping that my first medicated cycle would be the one that got me my take home baby. I hope I didn’t burst her bubble when I told her that I’m a two year veteran of Infertility Land.

Obviously, she got her blood drawn before me and beat me upstairs to the u/s clinic to be first in line. Much to my amazement, she signed my name in for me right below hers so that I was second in line. It really was the least she could do after messing up my whole game plan. It reminded me of that episode of Friends where that couple keeps getting ahead of Monica and Chandler in line to their honeymoon and so they keep getting all the upgrades. Finally, Chandler yells at the couple, “We’re you, just two minutes later!” Except in the case, I know way more than this girl and I can’t figure out if that puts me in a better or worse position.

 

In other news, it’s been exactly two weeks since my last dose of methotrexate. You know what this means…..I can drink alcohol again and pop a painkiller stronger than Tylenol. Lest you get too excited for me, this loosely translates to two glasses of red wine and an ibuprofen. But I will take what I can get at this point.

Beta dropped by 50% according to this morning’s blood draw. 584. Progress, alas. The pregnancy is no longer visible by ultrasound. I’m hoping this pattern continues and next Wednesday my beta will back at zero.

Another reason that I have been avoiding you all is because I have some news that I have been hesitant to share. More like, I have no idea how to even share it. It’s some heavy stuff. But, I assure you that I am working on that post and will hopefully have it up by this weekend.

Thanks for not giving up on me.

Love. Love. Love.

Finally, Some Good-Ish News

28 Nov
  • My beta went down by well over 15% so I am safe from surgery for now. It’s still up to 1121 and I have to get tested again in a week, but I am HOPING so hard that it drops considerably by then.
  • Do you guys know about LFCA??? I had no idea that this existed until I got a few comments/emails after my loss. What a wonderful, wonderful idea! I will definitely be checking in frequently to support both those that have lost and those that have found.
  • Yesterday I wrote about the tattoo that intend to get. I am leaning slightly toward putting it on my front hip, somewhere slightly more intimate. However, one day I do hope to get pregnant again (and stay pregnant for 9 months). My question is for any ladies out there who have a tattoo in that location…what happened to it both during and after pregnancy? [Side note: I have never been able to say “pregnant again.” It felt really weird writing it for the first time.]
  • I think it’s time to start harassing Stupid Stork for another video blog challenge!
  • I am beyond ready to get back to exercising and having sex…I was told not to do either until my ectopic resolved itself. I know my number is still up at 1121, but can someone please tell me when I can resume these activities? I’d really hate to bother my doctor with these questions as I have been bothering her all too frequently lately. So, internets, help a lady out 🙂

That’s pretty much all I have for today…lots of questions that need your answers. Thanks friends!

Love. Love. Love.

I’m Still Alive, Just Barely

27 Nov

Hello Ladies.

I hope you will excuse my absence. Dealing with this ectopic pregnancy has took a bigger toll on me than I ever thought it could. But I am back now. I’ve been reading all of your posts despite my lack of commenting. I have read each and every email, comment, and shout out that you have sent and I am so thankful for each and every one of them. It wasn’t my intention to ignore these things, but somehow that was less taxing on my emotions than reliving the experience each and every time I replied.

So, where am I in this process? Well, the first dose of methotrexate didn’t work so I got a second dose last Wednesday. My period started on Friday despite my HCG levels still not dropping. Friday night/early Saturday morning I made yet another trip to the ER with terrible pain and heavy bleeding. I was eventually discharged with directions to stay off my feet as much as I possibly can and to come back if the pain got any worse. As of yesterday my beta level has still not dropped sufficiently. Tomorrow I go in for one final beta test and if the number hasn’t dropped by 15% then it’s surgery for me.

I keep thinking that this baby must get her stubbornness from her mother. And in an effort to think positively (or delusionally, the choice is yours) I tell myself that clearly she wanted me just as much as I wanted her. This didn’t really hit me until I saw the blood. The experience was akin to every other month of TTC when I was hit in the face with a BFN–the reality of that never really set in until my period started. That’s how I knew it was really over. And this was no different. Mentally, I was well aware that this pregnancy was in no way viable, and yet, there was this small part of me that held out hope for a miracle. If my beta kept rising then eventually I would see the tiny flicker of a heartbeat on the u/s screen. Nevermind the irreversible damage the methotrexate would have caused. Those are minor details in the face of a miracle.

Then the bleeding and cramping started signaling to my heart that it was time to accept what my head already knew: this is over. I wept. I screamed. I moaned. And I think I’m still in the process of grieving my loss. I have also decided that I want to commemorate this experience. For however long it lasted, this will always be my first pregnancy and incidentally it will always be my first loss. This has changed me in a way that few things ever have.

My husband wrote to me, “I can’t stop feeling the weight of all this. The tragedy of it. Never have I experienced a more permeating and profound sadness. Time I guess. Only time heals wounds this deep. It’s the most bitter cure, but it’s the only one that really works. I wish it would leave a big scar, that everyone could see and wonder and ask about. I wish for people to know the seriousness of the trauma I have experienced.”

So I have decided to leave my own permanent scar on my body. A symbol of this trauma that everyone will see and ask about.

I haven’t decided where on my body I want to put it.

I considered my front hip, close to where she lived for a brief moment in time.

I considered my ribcage under my breast, somewhat close to my heart.

I considered my wrist where I could and would look at it every day.

I considered my back, on my shoulder blade so that I wouldn’t have to look at it every day.

But it’s permanent placement in still up in the air, much like the fate of my left tube. Maybe once this is all over then the solution will become clear? Until then, I am open to suggestions.

The End

14 Nov

As I sit here and write this, tears stream down my face. There has been a lot of that today. However, some of those tears are reserved for the overwhelming gratitude that I feel toward all of you who have shown nothing but support in both my time of immense joy and in my time of great sorrow. I truly feel the love emanating from every comment, email, text, and phone call that I have received today. And I have never been more happy or proud to be part of such an amazing community of women who stand together in the face of tragedy. Unfortunately, that tragedy is one we experience all too often as a community. To truly be able to empathize with another person whom you’ve never actually met is a rare and precious gift that few ever get to experience and I am lucky enough to have been touched by each and every one of you. And not just today, but every day.

When I first announced my pregnancy it was with great trepidation because I have been on your side many, many times. I know how hard it can be to read about another’s success when you are still in the trenches yourself. I know this because I have been there. You know this because you have been there. And this will forever unite us in a way that I would never wish on my worst enemy. The bittersweet camaraderie that I have established in this corner of the internet has changed me so much for the better and for that I will never be ungrateful.

Thank You.

Intermixed with my longing for yesterday (when everything was ok) is an overabundance of thankfulness for the amazing people that I am privileged to call friends and family. When we first broke the news of our pregnancy, some wondered why we would tell people so early. But I knew it was the right choice. Today, my feelings were validated tenfold by the outpouring of support and love that we have felt coming from every direction. Most of the time people don’t know what to say. I’m sorry? Is there anything I can do to help? I love you? And that, right there, those words, are all I ever needed to hear. To know that I am loved and supported. That we can just sit and cry and BE SAD together is more than enough for me. The intimacy of such a shared moment speaks volumes straight from the heart, so much more than words ever could. Language is limited in its ability to communicate feeling, emotion, empathy, and genuine concern, but actions are not. A hug and recognition of this struggle go so much further than a bottle of tequila ever could. Simply acknowledging my pain means more than a contrived explanation ever will.

I am so fortunate to have an abundance of people in my life who truly get this. And I heard from each and every one of them today. I don’t know how I could ever repay them for their compassion and tenderness. But, I guess that’s the beautiful part of true love–whether it be between parents, friends, or lovers–there is no need for compensation. The more love you give, the more you will receive. It’s very definition ensures that it will continue to multiply when given freely.

Then there is the man who stood by my side through all of this. The only person who could really ever come close to understanding my pain because this baby was also his. We were together for both conception and termination. No matter where life takes us from here, both of these actions can never be undone. Today he cried when I was too numb to do so. Today he let the sadness hang in the air and gave it the space that it deserved. Today he acknowledged what I have always known to be true: nothing in life is fair. And today he held my hand even when it was hard for him to do so. He let me feel everything that  I needed to feel and then he felt it right along side me. My partner in both love and loss, my strength in both light and darkness.

I suffered an insurmountable loss today. For 13 days I knew I was pregnant. I spent that previous 13 days falling more and more in love by the second with the life that was finally growing inside of me. Falling in love with the chance to hope and dream for the very thing that I was beginning to doubt would ever be mine. But alas, it was. It is. It will always be mine for however short I had it in my possession. Life has taught me that most things are fleeting and to hope for anything more is a futile endeavor. But this felt different. This felt like it was finally mine, to have forever. It felt like my chance. But I was wrong.

Some want to blame God. He would never give me more than I could handle and clearly I wasn’t ready to handle this. He has other, bigger and better, plans for me. Some want to blame science. I had no business messing with drugs and procedures that forced my body to do things that it would never do naturally. These are the risks that I signed up for and while the odds are always slim, there has to be an exception to every rule. Me and my baby are that exception.

But the truth of the matter is that there is no explanation. There is no reason why I am that 1% whose pregnancy is ectopic. There is no rhyme to the fact that I have been trying my damnedest to conceive for two years and that this is how the tragedy has unfolded. It’s just chance and luck, neither of which has ever been on my side.

I find myself wondering how it’s even possible to already miss something (someone?) that I knew for such a short period of time. How one can possibly become so attached to something (someone?) so intangible. I think it’s because I already knew her before she was even conceived. I have dreamed and fantasized and created her in my mind so long ago that it was really only a matter of time before my body caught up with my fantasy. When my body finally welcomed her into existence it was as if my mind could breathe of sigh of relief that she had finally found her home.

Tonight my home feels vacant and hollow. Her presence, one that was already so abstract, now feels like a ghost that will forever haunt my memory. My sweet love. The only child I have ever known.