One Year Later

I realized after our workout this morning that today marks a year since joined the gym and had our first workout there.

The Hubby and I were certainly no strangers to working out but this was a new experience for both of us.

We started out pretty strong, going after work. But one or both of us often found reasons to skip.

And we really didn't take full advantage of the facility, sticking to cardio on the elliptical or treadmill.

I actually gained weight.

Then we switched to mornings and managed to go consistently for six weeks straight. I started a strength class two days a week and The Hubby started doing weighta on his own.

Not great weight loss, but feeling good.

I will admit to falling off the wagon a bit in May and June during the basketball playoffs. We were staying up to late a couple nights a week, so we weren't consistent. But, we still went a few times a week and watching my Mavs win their firsr Championahip was completely worth it.

So, we started back up, I have to admit some of my drive was gone. I thought I had gotten over my little quirka about how hard to workout at certain times, nut there I was using that excuse again. And The Hubby has started his juice diet and he was walking lated in the evenings with a friend (had to be late due to the insane heat we had last summer), so we weren't consistent again.

And then John died and we only went two or three times in a month. We were just so emotionally drained and not sleeping. We needed that time.

But, again, it killed my motivation.

We started averaging four days a week this Fall. Not great, but at least we did it. I missed two full weeks sick with a chest cold, but worked my way back up.

The week of Christmas, while I was on vacation, I managed six days.

And, then, there was today.

I've had great workouta these past two weeks. BodyPump twice a week, yoga on Wendesday, and really kicking ass on cardio.

But, today, one year after joining he gym, I hit my highest calorie burn. And I couldn't feel my legs. And I actually thought it would feel good to go longer than an hour.

I really hope that I can keep this feeling as I go back to my normal work routine. I want to try for longer workouts, even if I start getting to work later. I want to not slow myself down because I'm worried about some imaginary pregnancy.

But, today, I am happy to feel strong and accomplished.

A far cry from the gal who wouldn't push it on the elliptical a year ago out of unfounded fear.

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34

And I thought 33 was a little rough.

I've never loved my birthday. It has nothing to do with age or getting older. It really has very little to do with being a "Christmas baby".

I'm really just not one for all the attention on me kind of thing. Despite what some might think and how I come across in many situations, I am a pretty shy, quiet, no spotlight kind of person.

You add that to having a birthday two days after Christmas, when people are sick of eating and getting together and buying gifts, it's never been a big deal for me. I always hated to be an imposition and would just be happy with a birthday wish.

But today I turn 34.

This one is really hitting hard. Again, not because I think 34 is old in any way. But, rather, because my age is starting to play a factor.

I never viewed getting older as losing time. I relished getting older and moving on to the next chapter.

And I always felt young. And I always felt like I still had all the time in the world for everything.

But today, on my birthday, I feel every bit of the weight of my years.

This is not who expected to be at 34.

I don't like to make everything about TTC or having kids, but when it comes to my age, that's when I feel it most.

I am 34. And while I know I still have time, I feel like I'm staring down the barrel of a gun.

Everything changes in respect to having a baby in this next year.

And I know that road. I've seen people I love go through it - both successfully and unsuccessfully. And it is something I never wanted.

A lot of reflecting on this birthday.

I want it to be happy day, but I think I will settle for content.

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And Things Were Going So Well

I had so much anxiety going into this evening.

I was scared about how I would react to my family with the baby. I was scared about how I would react to the baby. I was scared that someone would say something to me about IF or having a baby. I was scared about how I would respond.

But today was good. I had an awesome workout. I've spent the last few days in my kitchen - my favorite place to be - cooking and baking. PMS was gone, so I was less hormonal.

I was ready.

And it was good. Really good.

I held the baby for a long time and loved it. Sure, I got wistful and had to really concentrate on this particular baby. We talked about him and gushed over him - and meant every word.

I was so happy.

Until the question.

"So, did your doctor put you on fertility drugs?"

I had braced myself for the question but after the way the evening had gone, I was blindsided.

And pissed.

And I really didn't expect the it from my stepdad, in front of pretty much the whole family.

I tried to stop it, but it was clear he had no intention of letting up.

Enter my cousin, Miss Look At Me I Got Pregant Let Me Help You.

"I told your mom I have Clomid you can take."

Luckily, we were already on our way out the door because we would have left and it might not have been pretty.

"We tried for years and one of drugs."

Yep, I know. I was there.

"Or we should go skiing. Could have been that."

Why is this still a conversation?

I don't even know how I feel now.

I'm mad. I'm upset. I'm hurt.

And I'm sure I'm being depicted as the crazy, bitchy, ungrateful, overly sensative one.

I hate being pitied and felt sorry for.

If nothing else, I have never felt sorry for myself. I'm sad for me and sad for the situation.

But to think that they all look at me and think, "oh, poor Ashley, she wants a baby so bad."

And I don't like that it ruined my night, and made The Hubby mad, and made us argue.

I don't want to see them tomorrow. Hell, I don't want to see anybody tomorrow.

I want Christmas to be over.

I want this all to be over.

I'm just done.

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"We'll Sell T-shirts!"

"I just want to hit something. I want hit somebody until they feel as bad as I do."

Remember that line from Steel Magnolias?

Of course, Sally Fields's character was referring to the pain she felt after the tragic loss of her daughter.

Makes me feel like a heel for even comparing. I know there are many things worse in life and I count my blessings every day.

But each new cycle - or, rather, the end of each cycle - is like a little death for me.

It's the continued death of an unrealized dream.

The slow death of any hope I still hold on to.

The death of pieces of me.

So, I do want to hit something or somebody.

I want to kick a wall.

I want to throw things (my prenatal vitamins come to mind).

CD1. Cycle I've lost count. Four days until Christmas. Six days until I turn 34.

I need my own Ouiser to hit.

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It's a Good Thing I Stopped Believing

In signs that is.

Because, really, I could have made a case for them today.

But, I don't believe in them in anymore, so I had to laugh at myself. Let's just say I spent way too much time in public today. I was bound to see signs everywhere.

There was one thing, though. Really silly, but it resulted in me hiding an item at the store behind other items just in case I need to go back and get it.

Of course, it will probably be gone - even by tomorrow when I have to go back to that store and will probably look for it.

And that will be an even bigger sign!

But, like I said, I don't believe in signs anymore.

Mostly.

(Sidenote: I hate this part of my cycle. I have long since lost phantom symptoms - not sure if that's a result of trying too long or hormones stabilzing - but, my emotions still ebb and flow. One moment, I'm perfectly at peace and hopeful, the next nearing tears because I just know I'm out. I want to smack myself upside the head.)

Baby, All I Want for Christmas Is You . . .

I've been trying desperately to fight the rise of emotions.

I have not had all the moments I had last year around Christmas - the sadness is hanging up stockings, the general depression that once again, no baby's first Christmas ornament or even a baby bump.

I was excited to decorate the house (though, admittedly, I think I went overboard as compensation for the one big thing that IS missing). I haven't gotten weepy. I've certainly had some dread surrounding actually being with my family at Christmas with my cousin and the new baby, but that wasn't so bad because I could prepare.

But the closer we get to Christmas, the more dread I feel.

I am due to start my period two to three days before Christmas. And I'm terrified. Not exaggerating. Terrified.

This is the first Christmas since we started trying that my period will actually coincide with Christmas. The past two, I've been O'ing or about to.

This is definitely worse.

I know how my hormones are. I'm so afraid of losing it and causing a fight with the hubby. I'm so afraid of not being able to handle seeing the baby. I'm so afraid of what I might say if someone has the nerve to ask me questions about TTC.

I can honestly say that I don't think there has been a single cycle in over two years that I have wanted a BFP more.

I'm tired of waiting.

I do not think I can handle Christmas without it - I'm not strong enough anymore.

I want my baby.

I want my baby for Christmas.

So Hurt and Angry

(If anybody is reading and keeping score, this is the second post today, and there might be another. A lot going on in my head.)

After coming to terms with things in my own head and my Thanksgiving meltdown, I've really been in an okay place. We still decided not to worry about this cycle - no temping, OPKs, etc. That was probably good since I ended up with a nasty cold right after Thanksgiving, that lasted straight through ovulation.

I admit to being a bit tense because my next period should start a couple of days before Christmas. That sucks in and of itself - yes, I would love to be a hormonal, cramping, bleeding mess for Christmas; that will be awesome. But, let's just say all that happens at the same Christmas my cousin is coming up with her newborn. And given that said cousin is already the center of attention in the family, I can only see where this is going - let's just say my grandfather has suddenly found my email address again to send me pictures of the baby; he hasn't sent me so much as a joke in at least 5 years.

So, while tense and still hoping that we MAYBE caught my window despite me really being too sick for sex, I've been in an okay place emotionally.

Until my mom called today.

Nothing like a mom to throw you over the edge.

She didn't mean to, but the conversation really hurt and made me very angry.

My cousin and her husband traveled here (they live about 5 hours away) for the weekend for everybody to meet the baby. The Hubby and I had been invited, but I begged off since I am still on the tailend of this cold that comes complete with a nasty cough.

My parents went. And I'm not sure if my mom called today just to tell me about the baby or if she wanted more information.

I've never withheld information about TTC from my mom. I didn't tell her when we first started trying because I didn't feel like telling a lot of people (The Hubby didn't get that memo), but I told her within the first few months. And around the time we hit one year, she knew. And I told her right before we were to start testing. And I told her the outcome of the tests.

And I told her what our next steps were. That Clomid was only a small option because what Clomid is designed to do, I don't need, so the chance of it helping me alone are pretty slim. That our best option would be IUI. That money is a huge player in this, so I didn't know what we were going to do and when.

Nothing has changed.

I haven't told her more and she hasn't asked. Status quo.

But, apparently, last night, with my cousin (C, for the remainder of this post), MY mother decided it was appropriate to engage in a conversation with my cousin about MY fertilty and MY plans.

So, she decided to call me today, apparently, to convey opinions.

C told my mother that she's worried about me (this makes me wonder why she's worried about me; I have a sneaking suspicion that my mother tells the family sometimes that it's too hard for me to be around C and/or the baby) and wishes I would just go to a doctor who would give me Clomid, unmonitored, so I wouldn't have to worry about the money.

Are you fucking kidding me?

C has lots of friends who used Clomid and got pregnant. I could even take the rest of C's Clomid since she didn't take it all. She only took the lowest dose, so it wouldn't hurt.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!

And my mother engaged in this conversation, saying she didn't really know what we were planning right now, but that money was an issue. Because, you know, my mom took that one round of Clomid 22 years ago and she got pregnant after trying for 5 years. And since she, like me, had nothing diagnosibly wrong, it would probably work for me.

So, let's take the Clomid factor out of the equation for a minute.

The two of them actually had a conversation about me, my fertility, in some ways my sex life, and my money situation.

I went off on my mother.

I am beyond angry that the conversation even happened. And I am beyond hurt because all it has managed to do is bring up all of my insecurities about this whole dame process.

All their conversation did was make me once again question my choices. And make me feel like a complete failure that I'm not doing everything I should be doing if I want a baby so bad.

And it's making me feel completely left out, once again.

I told my mother that. And she got mad at me for getting upset with her. While in the end she felt bad, she still didn't get that the conversation was inappropriate and hurtful to her own daughter.

Maybe I am wrong for reacting so badly. I don't believe that either of them had bad intentions with the conversation, but it is a conversation that should have ever been had.

So, here I've spent the rest of my day near tears and feeling like shit about myself again. I did talk The Hubby after I talked to my mom. I needed a hug. So, I told him and he let me cry, and he hugged me, and he agreed that they should not have talked about things they don't know about, and he told me we are doing what WE need to and can be doing.

But, I'm still going to sit here and second guess myself. And wonder what I should/could be doing better. And think about how other people are talking about me and questioning my life.


Just when I was back up, I'm knocked down again.

Too Many Thoughts

Thanksgiving night, I had a huge meltdown, causing a huge fight with The Hubby. The positive, though, was that in an effort to help him understand why his wife had turned into some miserable, irrational, hormal bitch, I actually talked to him.

We told him things I'd never really said. To anybody other than myself and the blogging world.

See, The Hubby is the type to not want to hear all the crap. He's not uncaring, he just sometimes doesn't take the time to really HEAR what is being said.

To him, when I was upset about "the baby thing," I was just being hormonal, or unreasonable, or it just wasn't SO important.

Since the meltdown happened a couple of days after my big "think" in the shower, all of the thoughts were fresh in my mind, so I asked him to let me get it all out. To stay with me through the crying and the irrational thoughts to really hear where I was coming from.

I told him about feeling the loss of my indentity and trying to work through that. That this wasn't just about having a baby for me, about doing what everybody else is doing (he has actually said before that he thinks I want to get pregnant because my friends have babies), or it just being some passage of life.

My hope was that he would realize that, for me, I might be losing my dream. That I might be losing the biggest thing I ever thought would define my life. I wanted him to realize that I wasn't saying these things to blame him or for him to figure out how to fix it.

I just needed him to hear me.

And he did.

That night, he said he heard me and understood. That he'd never looked at it from that point of view because, for him, a child would just be a bonus in life. He never even thought he really wanted kids until we were in a committed relationship and even then, he wasn't sure until just before we started trying.

I left for an overnight trip with my mom and aunts two days after Thanksgiving. Things had been fine in the interim (aside from me throwing up the entire contents of my Thanksgiving meal leading us to question if I could be pregnant only for my period to show up two days early the very next day), so I wasn't expecting any more to come of the conversation other than him understanding me better and me maybe not being so on edge.

When I came home, though, things were different. The Hubby had done a lot of thinking about what I said and the whole situation while I was gone. He told me that he believed with all his heart that I'm supposed to be a mom. And that we need to start looking ahead.

He wants me to be more diligent when trying on our own. He wants to look at what our next options are/should be, find out about insurance coverage and costs. We can't do a lot right now, moneywise, but we need to know what our options are.

I feel so horrible for keeping things bottled up and not opening up to him sooner. I feel like we've wasted so much time fighting and being upset with each other because I was too afraid to tell him my feelings and fears.

I don't know exactly where we are going to go from here because, money aside, there are still so many things about treatments that really scare me. A year ago, I thought I knew what I wanted to do when it came to that, but now I question myself.

But, for now, I'm just happy to be on the same page and to know that whatever we do, we now really do together.

An Exercise in Torture?

I have this almost ritual toward the end of each cycle. Usually, it comes later, a day or so before my period actually starts. This time, it was today.

The shower is the one place I let loose, don't hold back my emotions. When our friend, John, died, that was the only place I broke down - I didn't want to do it in front of anyone. When my hormones overtake me at the end of a cycle, the shower is my outlet - so that nobody else has to see the pain.

I often pray, talk to God, ask Him for his help - usually not that I am pregnant, but more for strength, for comfort, for knowledge. Sometimes I talk this faceless, name, beingless child; telling it how much I would love it and how much it would be wanted (and I am very much aware of how crazy that makes me sound, but some days, whatever gets you through). Basically, I just use the time to get out whatever needs to come out to allow myself to cope.

I'm not really sure what's been changing lately. The Hubby has made some comments about things we will do - trips we could take, etc. He's sort of hinted at the what-ifs - what if we don't get pregnant, what if we are childless. I think it's sort of been getting to me, but not so much in a bad way.

It's almost forcing me to think, to picture that life, to think hard about getting past all this. See, the hard part for me is giving up a dream - pretty much the only dream I've ever really had. Would I love to travel, explore the world? Absolutely. Would I be disappointed in my life if I didn't do that? Not for a second. Would I love to build a career in writing or editing or start my own bakery/restaurant? You better believe it. Would life feel incomplete if I didn't have those things? Not by a long shot.

No matter what other dreams I've had for myself, being a mom was always number one. When I thought I was going to be this awesome lawyer, I was going to be the kind who was home every night to cook dinner and do homework. When I was going to write the next great American novel (and turn it into a screenplay and win an Oscar), I was going to drive carpool and live in suburbia.

Being a mom was my dream.

And now I may have to find a new one.

I've really been thinking lately about talking to someone, reading a book, something about moving past this. Accepting what could be my fate. Because I don't know how to do things.

How do I make sense of this overwhelming maternal urge? How do I see babies, kids, mommies for their beauty without the pain? How do I stop aching for my child and catching glimpses of faces - in my dreams, both awake and asleep?

Today in the shower, I was thinking about all these things, particularly about these overwhelming feelings I get for the touch or glimpse of a child that doesn't exist. And I started thinking about all the misses moments. And it made me think what if I lived them in my head then shut them off? What would that feel like?

So, I did. I closed my eyes and envisioned the pregnancy test answer I've never seen. And telling The Hubby. And telling my mom. Telling my brothers, which made me laugh because I still don't know how I would tell them or how they would react. I told friends, I told family. I heard heartbeats and saw sonograms. I saw the nursery. I saw labor - I saw my baby for the first time, said her name; I watched The Hubby hold her for the first time - that's when the tears started. I saw my mom. And I saw my stepdad - and I knew he and The Hubby would forever be competing for who was more wrapped around her little finger. I watched our munchkins fall in love with her and wonder why we ever worried how they would handle a baby. I saw firsts - food, words, steps, birthday, school.

More vividly than I ever imagined I could, I envisioned this child that does not exist. And I laughed, and I cried.

Then I opened my eyes.

For a minute, I wondered if I had made a horrible mistake. Was this going to make worse?

Once I got out of the shower, though, I didn't so those images again. I honestly felt like a weight had been lifted. I felt clear, I felt peace.

I have no idea what it means. None at all. I could be pregnant right this minute (well, not really, but in a very basic sense, let's say I could be). Or, I could be headed for yet another failure (despite a spectacular effort) and a permanant break for full out trying.

I just don't know. But, I know that seeing all those things broke my rule - I've tried very hard to not see past this process. It felt wrong to think ahead to that, almost like a jinx.

So, maybe I've just lifted a weight.

(*Seeing this written out, it occurs to me that I sound a bit like a crazy person. I'm not sure I care, but it really didn't feel that way when it happened. It felt theraputic - and nobody was charging $100 a hour for it!)

Because It's Just That Easy

I admittedly read WAY more mommy blogs than a I should. Some of them started out as TTC blogs and then the couple got pregnant, so they've morphed (which is great!). Some are just blogs I started reading ages ago and continue and some are actual friends.

One in particular, Texas Health Moms blog, I started reading when one of my best friends became a contributor. It's actually a really great blog and one I can really read without getting how I get about babies/pregnancy - one contributor has even blogged her journey through IF (resulting finally  in pregnancy).

Today, though, I read a little gem about an 11-11-11 birthdate.

And I wanted to punch my computer.

Hmm, I think I want to wait a few more month to try. Oh, but, wait, there's a really cool birth date opporunity this year! Oh, look, my cycle and ovulation coincides exactly with that EDD! Look, nine months later, I'm due 11-12-11!

FML.

And the even shittier thing is (has anybody else noticed my increased use of profanity in this blog?) that it is actually that way for some people. Not shitty for them and I sure as hell wouldn't wish what I'm going through on anybody.

But, damn.

Stories like that just make me feel crappier. Would you like me to count the number of "perfect dates" I've had over two years? There have been a lot and I've missed every one of them.

Every damn one.

Hypersensative? Probably.

My cousin gave birth to a very healthy baby boy last week. I truly am happy for her and her husband and I really can't wait to see the baby, despite all my other feelings about the subject.

I've very easily talked to family about the baby - talking stats, who he looks like, etc. - with ease (and a bottle of wine; don't judge). I was happy my mom forwarded me on the pictures of the baby the day after he was born.

I even dealt with my mother "announcing" his arrival on her Facebook page, complete with picture.

Selfishly, it stung, but I tried to move past it.

But, today, MY mother has posted yet another picture of the baby, who is wearing a little cap with the logo of the family's favorite football team.

Sorry, but it hurt. I know that it shouldn't and that she should be allowed to be excited about this new baby and show him off. Right? She should get to be all those things? How is it any different from me announcing the arrivals of all my nieces and nephews?

But, it makes me feel like shit.

She should be getting to announce her own grandbaby, not her great nephew.

And shouldn't it occur to her that seeing her post these pictures might make her own infertile daughter feel like shit?

This is where the hypersensative comes in.

I know I should not expect people to tiptoe around me. And, really, truly, I don't. But should I expect that out of my own mother? I don't know anymore.

I really just need to get over myself and let it go. Even though she's my mother, I can't expect her to not be excited about the new baby.

But every picture she posts and every little bit of excitement she has kills me.

Out of The Hubby's Mouth: I Keep Up with It Too

TH: Well, I know we've hit the right days.
M: Well, yeah.
TH: I know. I keep up with it too.
M: You do? Well, I should ovulate Saturday or Sunday, probably.
TH: Or the 15th.
M: Wow. Uh, yeah.

Saturday would be CD13 and my norm is CD13 or CD14, but CD15 is not out of the question. And I knew he probably had somewhat of an idea, but the fact that he knew we were upon O date shocked the hell out of me. And made me really happy all at the same time.

Too bad I won't know for sure in the end as I've stopped charting. Not permanently, probably, but for the next two cycles at least. I started out the cycle temping, but a few days in I started thinking about different upcoming events and just decided I didn't want to worry about it. I decided I might want to have a glass of wine on a particularly stressful workday or I might want to have a few glasses of wine when we have dinner with my family. And I might want to stay up late or have middle of the night sex. And I don't want to worry about how my temp is being effected by those things.

THAT would cause stress.

So, we're sort of winging it. Except that we're not. After charting for 21 cycles, my body doesn't have a lot of surprises. With the exception of the occasional "delayed" O, I'm a pretty regular gal and my CM is usually a pretty good indicator.

So, here we'll see how this approach works. Honestly, I'm looking forward to the break. And I'm sort of looking at it as a break from even trying. Not in the "if I don't try, I might get pregnant" sense, but just I don't want my holidays to revolve around my hormones.

And we'll see what happens beyond that.

At any rate, The Hubby knows what's going on, so maybe we'll just let him steer this train!

Through the Tears

My cousin is being induced today.

I found out that information yesterday and had forgotten a little until this morning because, as with much of her pregnancy, I've been in denial. But, now, there will be a baby. I cannot deny pretend it isn't happening anymore.

So, I went to her Facebook page and posted that I'm praying for her today and that I love her and can't wait to meet the baby.

All of those things are true. More than true.

And yet I cried as I typed. (And I'm at work, so that was fun.)

I don't mean to cry. It's almost involuntary (and I cry at everything, for any reason, so it really shouldn't be that surprising).

I'm just sad that this is real.
I'm sad that I'm the oldest, by far, of the grandchildren and I'm not providing the first great-grandchild. That is completely stupid and selfish and I fully recognize that, but I can't help it.
I'm sad that my IF issues are not as easy as hers were to figure out. (I have other opinions on that, but they are too crappy for me to even talk about in this blog. Those I keep just for the dark recesses of my own mind.)
I'm sad that we didn't get to be pregnant together and that any child I have will be at the very least 9 months younger.

And I'm scared.
I'm scared of seeing my family this weekend (not her; she lives 5 hours away) and the gushing that will go on and how I will react.
I'm scared of how I will be the first time I see the baby.

I'm just plain sad and scared for myself. None of this is about her. And I think that is something so many people just don't understand.

Her pregnancy and this baby did not cause these feelings. IF caused them. My cousin and the baby - and every other pregnancy and baby - are just triggers. They are constant reminders of what I'm not and what I don't have.

And I don't feel like that is a negative view. It's just the truth. I don't want anybody else's life or pregnancy or baby.

I just want my own, but every new one is that reminder.

I'm sure when I have to I will smile and ooh and aww. It's what I do. It's what I do best.

But, here, in my blog and in my thoughts, I do feel like a horrible person for putting on a happy face through my tears. 

Perception

Something was said to me today. A small, truly innocent comment, that hurt.

It hurt a lot. More than just about anything that has been said to me during this whole journey.

The content of the remark is not important. It was more the meaning behind - that it showed other people's perception of me and my feelings and actions during this process.

I thought I was past all of the negative perceptions and opinions of my struggle. I'm not naive enough to think there are not people who hold negative opinions about me and this process, but I felt that I was beyond that with people who know the situation - and me - best.

It was something I was always afraid, from the beginning - even before here was the IF.

I was afraid of being labeled as overly hormonal/emotional, as wanting it too much, as bitter.

I was afraid of it because in some ways those things are true. And because of a comment made to me at one point early on and stories I had heard from other about comments made to them, I kept things to myself and later between me and this blog.

Slowly, I did start to open up to more people. First, it was only when they asked. I didn't want to burden people with my problems and feelings that were so personal and I just felt too many wouldn't understand all the raw emotions.

To my surprise, many seemed to get it and I let my guard down more. I still don't openly talk about everything but it's out there.

But now I'm realizing it is too much and maybe I need to check myself more because people don't get it.

And they judge me. And they feel sorry for me. And they my own words and feelings against me, whether they mean to or not.

The thing is people don't get that I don't like the way I feel and the things I think. I would give anything not to be this way.

But I am.

And I still refuse to apologize for it.

But I probably will be a little more careful about hiding it from others.

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The Face in the Mirror

A lot of years ago, back when I fancied myself something of a writer (yeah, I was one of those AP English, almost English major types who thought I was going to write the great American novel), I started what I hoped to be a good story. A novel, I hoped. It was about woman who gave up much of her youth to care for younger siblings after her parents died. It was a story that started at end and took you back to where she had been to get to where she ended up.

The title I chose was "The Face in the Mirror."

The title, and then the story, was born from a moment I had in  my own life. I was 23, out of college, no job, living at home with my parents and my brothers, was a year out from a break up with my first love. I was getting out of the bath tub, turned my head, and was my own face in the mirror.

It was one of the most clear out of body experiences I've ever had in  my life. I felt as though the face staring back at me was a completely different person.

My reaction to that was to examine myself and where I was in my life and what it was that made me feel as though the person I was seeing wasn't me.

I realized that I still saw myself as the person I had been growing up, through high school. I still saw myself as the person I really felt like my old friends would always see me as, but I knew I wasn't that person anymore. I had recognized many times during college that I was a different person - a better version of myself. I had really grown up and into my own, but in doing so, I really had lost a lot of who I was as a person when I was a teenager. My life at that point was NOTHING like I expected and I didn't forsee it getting there any time soon.

Just yesterday, I had the same experience. I've had it off and on over the last year as I've dealth with IF. But, I think yesterday's moment was triggered by a combination of things.

I've already been feeling my age lately. And today, the older of my baby brothers turns 21. That may not seem significant, but when I can recount the day of his birth as well as my parent probably could, it's pretty significant to me.

And it's just put me back in the place of not recognizing myself because I'm no longer the person I once was and I'm, again, NOWHERE near where I expected to be at this point in my life.

I have a hard time defining myself these days. I have a hard time knowing how I am, where I'm headed, and what I want.

And it's not that everything in my life has revolved or been leading up to having kids. I've always had other things in my life. I have a husband, I have hobbies, I have a job I (usually) enjoy, I have friends, I have family, I have other goals. But for as long as I can ever remember - whenever I played pretend (no matter the game),whenever I pictured events in my life -  me being a mom was there.

So, now, it's hard to see myself, at this age and stage of my life, and not see myself as a mom.

I'm struggling every day to move past that and to find me somewhere in this mess.

And hopefully I'll find myself in my reflection some day soon.

Sometimes All You Can Do Is Laugh - Before You Cry

Thought I would log on quickly this morning and get my annual benefits enrollment done.

Quick, painless, easy.

Ha.

Anybody care to guess how hard I laughed at that one?

Until I almost burst into tears at my desk.

Fucking CD1.

Here's the thing. I've been planning a pregnancy in the upcoming benefits year for two years now. Year one, I started an FSA. And lost a lot of money. Year two, I put less money in said FSA. It is not October, and I will be losing a lot of money.

Can somebody tell me what the fuck a planned pregnancy is because I don't even know anymore. I've been trying to plan a pregnancy for two damned years and I haven't succeeded. If there ever is a pregnancy, I can guarantee you I will be more than surprised by it.

So, yeah, I laughed. Briefly.

Now, I would just like to go home and cry.

Oh, excpet, since my period started while I was at work, I actually have to go home and tell The Hubby that I'm not pregnant, which I'm pretty sure is going to crush him this time.

Fun time.

Fucking Monday.



Out of The Hubby's Mouth: Do you have any pregnancy tests?

"Hey, do you have any pregnancy tests here?"

I was getting ready to head out the door to do the grocery shopping. I'm not sure if he expected me to pick some up after I told him I did not. But I certainly has no intention of doing so.

And, no, I did not and do not have any HPTs in the house.

In many ways, I love that he asks because I know it shows how much he wants it. But it kills me at the same time because I hate to see how disappointed and angry and upset he gets when I have to tell him I'm not.

I wish he knew what I do. I wish he could see and understand what two days of temp drops mean. I wish it erased for him, like it does for me, that hope.

And I hate to say that because I appreciate his positivity.

I love to hear him say God told him I am pregnant.

I love that he notices the fact that my skin is not breaking out right now. At all. And that he thinks that has to mean I'm pregnant.

But I refuse to let those things override the science I know to be true.

How many times have I allowed my body to play tricks on me? Too many.

So, yes, I've had some different sort of things going on with "the girls." And there was that one instance of spotting Friday morning. Oh, and the strange cramping. Not to mention that little appearance of EWCM this morning. Or the complete lack of all things PMS.

Two years ago, a year ago, hell six months ago, I might have let those things linger in my mind.

Now, falling temp patterns at 13 and 14 DPO, just lead me to the conclusion that this is one of my weird cycles and my period will be waiting for me tomorrow morning.

So, no, babe, no pregnancy tests for this house.

And I'm sorry to crush your hopes one more time.

I Just Broke Down

In the card aisle at Target buying a baby shower card for The Hubby's former boss.

That was a true first.

Didn't think I had any more of those in me.

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Safe Place

Throughout this journey, my one reprieve, my one safe place, has been the world of sports.

Maybe that's odd, but I have a deep love of and passion for sports, particularly, "my" teams.

So, through all of this turmoil and hormonal crazes, games and sports talk has been the place where conceiving and IF, and pregnancy and babies don't exist.

In sports, I can scream my lungs out at my quarterback for throwing late game interceptions that cost us the game (would anybody like to guess  my NFL team affiliation?). I can literally cry when the basketball star I love so much leads his team - finally - to their first ever NBA championship win and concoct a way for work to let me have some paid hours to go watch a victory parade where I got to scream some more in joy. And I can sit on the couch during the 9th inning of the World Series while my team's closer damn near gives me a heart attack with every pitch.

(Have you guessed where I live yet?)

I will fully admit that I take out some of my pent-up frustrations on my sports teams. I don't mean to and I've always been this passionate, but this last year, I think I've been worse.

I can, and nearly do, listen to sports radio or TV all day long. ESPN is on one of the TVs in our house at all times. The radio in my car lives on local ESPN radio. I follow lots of local and national sports guys on Twitter - and quote them. I love stats, I love player and sideline and clubhouse stories.

And I know that in many ways, my zeal has to do with sports being the place where I don't have to think about my BBT or cycle day or the emptiness that surronds so much of my life.

Every once in awhile, though, the two "worlds" still cross. Cameras get the cute baby in baseball team garb and The Hubby says "we need a kid!" Or you see a little clip of a player on the field with his kid throwing the ball around before the game.

But, yesterday, the two worlds collided and I couldn't escape into my safe place.

And I hate what I'm about to say.

I live in the Dallas area. My team is the Cowboys. Radio and TV and newpapers and Twitter are Cowboys overload. Tony Romo is our quarterback.

On my drive home from work yesterday afternoon, I got to hear the gal who does SportsCenter announce that Tony Romo and his wife are expecting their first child at least 3 times. This was again discussed a couple of times during the show I was listening to.

The couple got married at the end of May.

Here's the thing, I happen to love Tony Romo despite his flaws and, really, I'm happy for him and his wife. He's a good guy, she seems like a good person, yay for them.

And I am painfully aware that nobody else's fertility has any bearing on my own.

But it hurt like hell to hear. Over and over again.

ESPN, my sports world, is the one place where I don't want to feel that way. The one place where I can escape all my feelings.

And yesterday, and today, that was taken away.

So Different

I didn't think I would get to the point where things would feel different or worse than they already did after hitting the year mark.

At the year mark, I unofficially qualified myself as infertile. After all the testing, even after no diagnosis, I began to officially see  myself as struggling with IF. It was a hard transition to make because I didn't want it to be true. Since then, though, I've slowly come to accept it and live with it.

But, as I hit the two-year mark, I see that this journey can still surprise me - not in a good way.

Babies and pregnancies are hard. Literally, the only babies I can really tolerate hearing about or seeing are those of a couple of close friends and my nieces/nephew. And at times, even that overwhelmes me. All other babies, and especially pregnant women, make me sad.

The thought of a baby shower gives me major anxiety. Major.

I no longer hold out hope. It's not that I'm a Debbie Downer, woe is me, I'm never having a baby type of gal, but sometimes it feels that way. I'm not on track for any type of fertility treatment, so the longer we go at this  - and the older I get - the less likely I feel our chances our.

Now, my 2ww consists of hoping my period shows on a weekend or my work from home day so I can be miserable in private and thinking about when my period will start so I can ignore any weight gain and wear the appropriate clothes to mask my bloating. Gone are the days of  thinking about what day I might test or even looking ahead to the next cycle.

And with each cycle, the older I get. And I think about it. A lot.

I've never been the type of person to think about or care about my age. I've never felt old (and I realize I'm relatively young to ever feel old, but some people do). Turning 25 was fine. I had no issues turning 30. But, as 34 looms ahead in two short months, I'm really feeling the weight of it all.

All you ever hear about when it comes to age and fertility is that bit 35 cutoff for AMA. And even though  my egg reserve and 33 and few months was good, that could very easily drop rapidly in 14 months. And I worry about getting pregnant any time after the next six months for fear of pregnancy after the AMA cutoff - that means amnios and all sorts of other risks. That's scary.

And the other side of that is just feeling so out of place at my age. I get on Facebook and people I went to school with have kids in middle school - I think one even has a high schooler. And almost all the others have school-age kiddos and/or toddlers. It makes me sad for me to see pictures. It hit me the other day looking at pictures of a guy I went to school with and his newborn baby and older son. He looked so "old". And he's my age. And I realized it was that he was grown up. And in some ways, I feel like I'm not. And that doesn't even make any sense, but I feel like all of these people who are my age are so much older than me because they are parents and they are at that stage of life. I feel so far behind but then it makes me realize my age and makes me feel old - too old for all this.

Two years ago, when this all started, my face broke out so horribly from day one and I gained 15-20 pounds in less than month. And I thought, it's okay. Eventually my body will adjust, I thought, and, if not, pregnancy will just cause all this anyway, so it's okay. I can muddle through.

Two years later, I'm just frustrated and unhappy. I'm tired of hormones ruling my appearance. Yes, I could probably do more about my weight, but even when I try, it seems, nothing changes. And there is nothing I can do about my acne. I'm tired of being 33-years-old and feeling like I want to hide myself. I feel so confident about so many things, but my appearance just takes that all away.

Confidence is something else I have lost. I feel like a failure at everything. I feel like I cannot do anything right - work, house, money, my Stella & Dot venture, being a wife. That's what IF has done to me.

And I'm just so tired of IF and wanting a family taking over my life.

I want to go to the State Fair with my husband and not wonder what it would be like to go with a baby next year since we want to make it an annual thing, but then be sad that it probably won't be an issue next year.

I want to look at a car and not wonder how well a car seat would fit in the back and how much cargo space there is for baby/kid stuff. And then be sad that I shouldn't really be considering that.

I want to see the box with my Christmas tree and get excited that it's almost time to decorate for Christmas - but not think that I don't know if I can handle another Christmas without a baby or pregnancy.

I want my life back. Of course, I don't want my old life back. I want the rest of my life to start.


I hate myself for thinking that way because I have husband who loves me, I have awesome dogs, I have a wonderful family, I have a job I actually still like most days, and I have good friends.

But, I don't know how that will ever be enough.

That's Right, This Is My Life

I was looking for a post on my Facebook profile.

I was looking at the list of things I've "liked" or commented on.

In this order:

"Congraulations" on Erin Ross's status. It was her baby's birth announcement, a mere hours after birth.
Ashley likes None in the Oven.

Yep, that's my life. Congratulating others on their babies and facing my own inability to get pregnant.

For the record, it made me giggle.

How I Survived a Baby Shower

I had been so prepared for my cousin's baby shower.

I had decided to try my hand at making some baby blankets. I was going to go in there with no baggage. I was ready.

Until we found out about the shower four days before it was to take place, on CD4 of my cycle, two years into to TTC.

I was not prepared. I thought I'd have time to gear myself up for it, get my happy face ready.

I didn't have time to attempt a blanket, which was fine for the shower because my grandmother and mom wanted to go in on a gift for her. Oh, good, I can handle that.

Oh, wait, you need me to look at the registry, Mom, because I'm "good at that stuff." Shit.

And two days later, you need me to walk you through looking it up? Sure, why not?

By three days out, I was having major anxiety and threatening to have a drink. The shower was to be at 2pm. That's okay, right?

I don't remember the last time I so fiercely did not want to attend an event. It wasn't just that it was a baby shower. Okay, yeah, it was. But there were other things. I cannot stand that other side of my cousin's family, particularly, her other grandmother. I was having awful flashbacks to my cousin's ridiculous wedding shower.

I DID.NOT.WANT.TO.GO.

By Saturday, I was having anxiety over clothes. I've not been feeling good about myself, so there was that obstacle. And I'm just thinking if I have to go to this damn thing, can't I at least look really good? Then maybe I'll feel better about myself and if anybody questions me and my babymaking, I'll be able to handle it with grace.

Oh, did I mention that my cousin is on bedrest 5 hours away and couldn't make the shower? So, how does that work?

Fortunately for me, my mom and grandmother were not keen on attending this thing either. While we adore my cousin, we all dislike being around that other part of the family. So, we were going for strength in numbers.

Come Sunday, I had picked out an outfit and actually liked how I looked. Shocker.

I cleaned the entire house to let off some steam, went grocery shopping. Still trying to figure out how to manage some alcohol before this thing. Then, The Hubby asked for coffee. The Hubby has been on a very strict cleanse/diet and has not had coffee in months. I haven't had coffee on a regular basis in two years. But,  when he mentioned making coffee, lighbulb! Irish cream!!

Made myself my yummy coffee that the hubby doesn't like, added my Irish cream, and headed out to get my mom. I'll give her credit here - she said she'd drive when I told her what was in my cup (I only had a short drive to her house; not driving while drinking). So, Irish cream = edge off attending shower.

At the shower, my poor cousin was being skyped in, but I still wondered what do you do at a baby shower when the mommy-to-be isn't in attendance? Apparently, you have a teen and a pre-teen open the gifts while grandma-to-be attempts to write down gifts. But, what happens when grandma-to-be is having hot flashes and not paying enough attention? That's right, the infertile, but always helpful cousin steps in to write.

Awesome.

Although, it was the lesser of two evils. When we first sat down, I was in prime postion to be asked to open the gifts and I was having a slight panic attack at the thought of that.

Writing wasn't much better. Can I tell you how much fun it was to explain baby items to the room full of women? Then to hear my mother say over and over that I was "used to" this whole baby shower thing. Yes, Mom, let's continue to point out the number of baby showers I've attended, none of which have been my own.

Oh, and let's not forget the little comment in the car, Mom. You know, about the annoying woman who "clearly doesn't have kids and never had." Um, you know you just described me, right?

Luckily we were in and out in about an hour, but I definitely had to fight back tears a couple of times.

I do really wish my cousin had been there. How awful to have to miss your own baby shower.

As she's already having some premature labor, she'll probably be having the baby within then next week or so (she's about 34 weeks right now). So, that will make a running total of 11 babies born to people I am in regular contact with while I've been trying and at least a dozen more babies/pregnancie via Facebook people from my past.

I promise I'm only a little bitter.

Really.

Six-Month Blues

I think I've discovered something of a pattern. It seems to me that every six month into this damned process, I hit this insurmountable depression.

(Note: It makes me more depressed to think that there have been enough six-month marks to notice a pattern.)

The end of this past cycle was just really hard. Stay in bed, want to cry all day hard.

The end of this past cycle was also the two-year mark.

Same thing happened six months ago - at 18 months, just as I was getting set to start testing.

And a year ago.

And at the six month mark. I remember nearly having a breakdown in the mall after going to the restroom and discovering that, once again, I was not pregnant. (Oh, how I wish I could have smacked my naive self for that one. Six months? Really? In my defense, in addition to it being the six-month mark, The Hubby had just gotten out of the hospital with a life-threatening condition and one of my best friends was less than a month away from giving birth - and there were four other impending births coming up in those next six weeks. But, still. I'd tell that girl now to get a grip.)

I guess milestones are supposed to hit harder, but I really hate feeling this way. I hate the hopelessness. I hate that nothing makes me happy. It's not fair to everybody and everything else in my life that I feel this way. But, I can't help the way I feel.

I pray that six months from now this will not be happening again, but at the same time, I have no reason to hope it won't.

Hey, Let's Ask the Infertile!

My cousin's baby shower is going to be Sunday. We just found out today (long story).

So, I have next to know time to mentally prepare myself.

Then, my mom and grandmother want to go in on a gift. Sure, I can do that.

Then, my mom tells me my she and grandmother are having trouble figuring out the registy to figure out what is left to get. Could I do it? I'm good at reading those.

Yeah, sure thing. The let the infertile grandaughter look up the baby registry for her younger cousin who got pregnant in two minutes and is now providing the first great-grandchild.

Yep, I'm on it. 'Cause, you know, I am an expert.

I've certainly bought my share.

What's one more, right?

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A Funny

I was lurking on the TTGP this morning (I'm just not up to posting on the boards anymore, but I still lurk from time to time to keep up with anybody I still know on the boards) and came across this link: http://www.noneintheoven.com/.

The gal who shared said her sister has been trying for 3 years and is also an actress who wrote and is starring in this series about trying to get pregnant.

Only the first episode is currently available, but the next should be soon. If the rest of the episodes are like this one, they will be a treat. Struggling to get pregnant is not a funny subject, but sometimes all you can do is laugh - at things like the advice you get from all the fertiles in your life, which is covered in the first episode. Also covered is the awfulness of the HPT. The waiting, the seeing, the trying to pretend you're not crushed.

It's so strange to get "excited" about little things like this. But, I do. It just makes me feel less pathetic to have other people in my shoes. To see other people sharing their story, getting the struggles out there.

I can't wait for the next five episodes!

Reason # 5,261 That I Chart

And that charting through the cycle can be beneficial.

CD28, 14DPO. Mild, inconsistent cramping. Irritability. No sore boobs. One incident of minor spotting at 13DPO and nothing else.

Hmm. Maybe I should stop on the way home for a test, right?

Uh-uh. Not a chance in hell.

But, why?

Thank you, body, for at least doing one thing right. A huge temp drop at 13DPO followed by a 0.05 rise (still to right at coverline) at 14PDO is much more telling than any symptoms or lack thereof. If not for that, I'd certainly be wasting more money.

Of course, I would be lying if I didn't say there wasn't a glimmer of hope. There always is, but I'm at least very logical this time in knowing what my body is telling me. And our timing was not good. At all. So, there was never any real hope, but under the circumstance, I was never going to be disappointed with this cycle.

And, with all that said, I'm going to the bathroom again.

Nothing like putting out there in the blog that my period hasn't started to make it show! Works every time!

Reflecting

I was totally going somewhere else with the post I planned to write today, but I started looking back through old posts, fearful that I was going to start being repetitive.

Now, I don't remember all the thoughts I had rolling around in my head and am just feeling very reflective about my TTC journey.

Maybe that's fitting since this post is actually coming at the two-year mark.

My feelings have been so mixed lately.

My desire for a child, to be a mom has gotten even stronger. I have these fleeting moments that hit me so hard that I can barely breathe. I feel a baby in my arms, or picture myself picking out baby items, or reading to a small child. These things seem so tangible lately.

If this was two years ago, or even a year ago, I might have felt comforted by that. Like maybe I was preparing myself somehow. And, really, it's those strong feelings that sort of pull me through some days.

But the very flip side of it all is the disenchantment with trying. I am so far beyond over it that a lot of times I don't even have the desire to try. It feels so fruitless.

And I feel hypocritical in many ways that I get sympathy for my "struggle" with IF. Yes, I put myself into the category because the "rule" is one year of unsuccessful trying = IF. I still struggle with the fact that I am unexplained. I feel like I don't really have room to complain when I'm not doing anything "help" my situation.

But, the bottom line is we cannot affort treatments. We could swing a round or two of just Clomid with monitoring (and there would be monitoring; Clomid without monitoring is NOT an option). But I just worry that I will put us through the emotional mess that could be for not much of an increase in odds given that I'm doing okay on all the things Clomid is meant to help. So, do I really get to play the IF card if I continue along the same path?

And I am just so unhappy with myself in general.

I am so disgusted looking in the mirror by the constant outbreaks I see. They are ALL I see when I look at myelf and I wonder how I can put forth the confident face I'm supposed to with my role as a Stella & Dot stylist and even my day job when all I want to do is hide my face.

And I don't feel much better about my body. I cannot lose weight. Since the beginning of the year, I've ballooned up to my highest weight ever, I've joined a gym, I've tried Weight Watchers, these days I don't eat much at all. And all I have to show for it is about 17 pounds lost, which still leaves me at least 50 pounds overweight. While I fully admit to not always having the best eating habits and to being a bit of a gym slacker from time to time, a lot of that stems from just not caring because even when I do care, I feel like it's not getting me anywhere, so why try?

I look at the clothes in my closet and hate the ones I have to wear and miss the ones I can no longer wear. I felt so good about myself when I was 30 pounds lighter and I just can't seem to get back there.

This morning, I actually had thoughts of going back on birth control for a month (because I still have a pack), which would really serve no purpose other than to ensure I definitely don't get pregnant. And I think, well, what if we just take a break. If it happened, what a surprise, but just let myself focus on my body.

But would that make me feel any better? Probably not.

Basically, we will keep going to the way we have until another option are more reachable.

I fear a little for my sanity sometimes.

I've been feeling every year and month of my age, which is very new to me. But, at less than a year and half to go before I'm classified as advanced maternal age, I feel like each passing month is a ticking time bomb. It scares me.

Anything related to kids, babies, and pregnancy makes me cry (with a few exceptions). Every Facebook status update of a pregnancy/birth/child announcement or woe or milestone or simple funny kiddo story. Every new picture of a sonogram or growing belly or new baby or even someone's kiddo who just turned 5 or 7 or 11.

Sometimes, I can just be watching TV and thoughts get so overwhelming that I have to pause what I'm watching to catch my breath to hold back the tears.

As I look back on this journey I'm on, I just feel no closer to the end. Of course, that makes me question what the end really looks like because it used to look like a baby, but now I don't know. And I don't feel like I've learned anything from this other than dealing with emotional pain.

I am at such a crossroads and don't know which direction I will take.

I feel like I am at the end of something that never really began.

Gone

August 25.

One month, two days.

It feels like all time exists after that day.

Life as we knew it will never be the same.

The Hubby and I have a group of friends. And seemingly odd collection of friends with seemingly not a much in common - except maybe a love of poker. But we're friends, almost a dysfunctional family at times. It seems, though, that you don't really realize what you've got until something big happens. Very big.

One of our friends, one of The Hubby's best friends, took his own life.

The aftermath has been the most difficult, the most surreal thing I have ever dealt with. Period.

Anything else I write at this point is more than I need to cover here, although, I want to put it out there that this person suffered from clinical depression - it is very important to me that people are aware of this and understand that depression is a sickness and that he is not judged by this act.

I had to get this post out there, though, because, as I said, I feel like everything in my life now takes place post that event. So, everything in my life is now colored by what happened - including getting pregnant.

This happened 2DPO last cycle. I managed to get a couple of days worth of temps in to confirm O then put away the thermometer. We weren't getting much sleep and I just didn't want to deal with the whole process. Once this cycle came, I nearly didn't even bother temping because I my heart was not even into trying. (I did decide to temp. just so I would have an idea of where I was in the cycle at th end; and we did sort of try, but I just didn't push timing.)

TTC has taken on such a mixture of emotions. On the one hand, the desire for a child has almost intensified (I also blame some of that on hitting the two year mark) - which I did not think possible. But on the other, the process has started to feel so ridiculous and pointless (also a possible side effect of the two ear mark).

I think I may have sort of lost where I was going with this post other than to get out there what has been going on because things have changed for me. I don't fully know how, but they have. And by getting this out here, I can hopefully move on in terms of this blog and maybe TTC.

Sad, lonely blog

Apparently, I've been in radio silence. Of course, I wish that meant good news that I wasn't ready to share, even here, but it does not.

It so started out as a good thing. I was in an okay place and handling my emotions really well - not feeling the need to express them in cyber world.

But the past few weeks have been completely different and I've so wanted to write. Lots of thoughts in my head. But I don't know how to express them all.

Some of what is going on is left for another post because I still really, truly cannot deal with getting those words out there.

One thing I do have to get out there, though, is that the second anniversary is upon me. A year ago tomorrow I began Cycle 13. I don't know the exact date of Cycle 1 because I wasn't yet charting and "serious" about the whole TTC thing, but I know it was September.

Something about these milestones really get to me. I never, not even with my fears going into it, thought I would sit here two years later with no pregnancy or baby. Never.

Sadness. Lost. Bitter.

I can hardly describe how I feel anymore. It's become too difficult and I've found myself not liking the way I feel about certain situation, but I also find myself not apologizing for it either.

I owe myself and any readers I have a good update. And I'll get there, but for now, I just need to acknowlege this time for what it is.

Because

Because the baby who just learned to walk will still take a few minutes to stop walking and snuggle with her favorite aunt.

Because The Hubby, who never so much as held a baby, flocks to the two-year-old with cerebral palsey and makes her giggle.

Because The Hubby finds as much amusement as a three-year-old in jumping over every crack in the Walmart floor.

Because a three-year-old swinging his legs while holding our hands walking to the car is great fun - a great arm workout!

Because there is no better sound than a young child's incessant giggle.

Because it is so much fun to learn how much they know.

Because I love the brownies in the kids' frozen meals and, somehow, I always end up with them.

Because seeing The Hubby and three-year-old cuddle in their sleep melts my heart.

Because my Raspy needs a new BFF - much to Daddy's chagrin.

Because after a full weekend with three-year-old, we weren't exhausted and relieved to have our quiet (ha!) home back - in fact, it would have been just fine if he had stayed, permanantly.

Crying

What is it about some days? I feel so over it all this morning. I can't even get makeup on because I can't stop crying. For no real reason other than I'm just so over this whole thing. And even I'm tired of me.

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The Hole

How can you ache for something you've never had? Miss someone who has never existed?

How can I have dreams and visions of a child I may never know? How do I have flashes of doing things that might never happen?

It's starting to get harder. Across the board harder. I'm having a more difficult time with it all. Maybe it is bitterness setting in. Maybe it is the knowledge that, right now, the situation is not changing so my focus has sort of been elsewhere. Maybe it is BECAUSE my focus has been elsewhere - you know, they say if you relax and don't think about it it will happen.

I've started to hate Facebook a little. Within the last three weeks, I've seen at least three pregnancy announcements out of nowhere (of course they are out of nowhere for me because these are people I only have contact with on Facebook, but they are still pregnancies I didn't see coming). I've recently friended my pregnant cousin and immediately wished I hadn't. And she doesn't even post that much. It's even hard to see pictures of the kiddos I love seeing.

It is not about jealousy or why them and not me. I'm just sad for me. I don't wish others' babies away or wish they were mine. I actually physically ache sometimes for my child that does not exist. I cannot even seem to articulate what I'm feeling these days. I feel so far removed from getting pregnant and being a mommy yet at the same time the nonexistent child and lack of motherhood are the biggest holes in my life.

I've tried for nearly two years now to find the balance. To live my life while trying. To make my life about other things. And, quite frankly, I'm kind of there. While the Hubby and I are still battling with some TTC tension, we're actually in a decent place. The Hubby and I are both really focused on our health and losing weight. My job is probably better than it has been in a lot of years. I'm doing something for myself and trying to set some new goals with my new Stella & Dot venture.

But I fear that all that balance has done is still shown where that gaping hole is. I think I feel like "hey, karma/God/fates/whatever, my life is in balance. Where's my baby?"

But, maybe that alone makes me still not there yet.

How Exactly Am I Supposed To Be?

This is the question I would love to ask of the people who say and think that I just need to relax. However you say it, please elaborate on how it is I am supposed to be.

At my RE's office yesterday, the nurse I saw told me I should "take a break, go on vacation, drink some margaritas, and I'll get preggers." Really? Is that your medical opinion to someone who has been trying over a year and a half and is seeing a fertility specialist? Wow. Why am I paying you, then?

Even my husband says "everybody" tells him I just need to relax. Really? So, at no point in the last 20+ months was I ever relaxed enough to get pregnant? You'd think the odds would be on my side. Clearly not.

My question is what exactly would people have me do? Am I supposed to forget that I want to get pregnant? Could someone give me some pointers in that? Because countless months of varying hobbies, a promotion at work, starting my own business, general life events have not been able to push that out of my mind. It's not on my mind all the time, but given that it is a life goal and it is a priority right now, not sure how to forget about it.

So, let's say I schedule this vacation. What if I schedule it and it's not when I'm ovulating? So, then I relax, have all the margaritas and sex I want but I'm not going to get pregnant. Or, should I schedule the vacation around ovulation? But then wouldn't that sort of defeat the purpose? Hmm . . .

And I'm sure there are many out there who say, "oh, well, you shouldn't worry about all that ovulation stuff." Oh, okay, you're right, it's better to not know about my body. But, let's say, I don't chart and know exactly when. Well, guess what? I do happen to be one of the lucky ones who has very regular cycles, so I ALWAYS have a pretty guess at when it is/is going to/has happened. So, I'm always going to know. I've gotten to the point, though, where I don't worry about it. We've had crappy timing, we've had dead-on timing. We're not pregnant. So, I've relaxed a lot about it. Sometimes I still get upset about, but it's too exhausting to expect either of us to perform under those circumstances.

I'm just so sick of people thinking they know what this is like. Unless you have been there, you do not know how this feels.
And I am perfectly well aware of all the people who have stopped trying or gone on vacation thinking they were getting away from it all and gotten pregnant.

Yes, it happens.

It might happen to me.

But, so far, it hasn't. And I have a right to be upset about it. I have a right to get stressed out by it from time to time. I have a right to feel depressed about it.

Quite frankly, I have no doubt that if I ever do get pregnant, it will be on my own when I've lost hope (and, believe me, I'm not far from that). That's just sort of the thing that happens to me.

But, that doesn't mean I haven't battled IF. I think so many people do not realize the meaning of IF. There isn't always a documented reason. There isn't always an answer. Not everybody comes out on the other end of IF with a baby, so when you are in the middle of it, when you are battling it, it so often feels like a losing battle.

Well, This Is New

Given that we have not been able to time things this cycle and given my utter exhaustion of the whole process, I had every intention of calling off this cycle and possibly taking a complete break. I was just done. I didn't even bother to temp. Sunday morning even though it should have confirmed ovulation.

Apparently, my uterus decided that IT would make those kind of decisions for me.

I woke up Sunday morning, CD13, to bleeding when I went to the bathroom. Um, what?!

This was not just a little blood. Definitely not spotting. Though, I did wonder at first - maybe ovulation bleeding. Never had it myself, but there is a first time for everything.

But, I knew almost immediately, this was not what was going on. I had put a pantyliner on just in case and it quickly became obvious that wasn't going to do the trick. Within a few hours, I was having period-like bleeding, with some clotting.

I've felt sort of "off". Not sure how to explain it. When I first woke up Sunday morning, I actually thought I felt like I had PMS cramping - nothing intense, just there. And I've continued to have that, a little worse Sunday evening. My tummy also feels icky, which is a PMS symptom for me.

And I've been a bit lightheaded.

Seriously, WTF is going on with my body? Here I am supposed to be ovulating and I'm having another period? Without ovulation? Or is something else going on?

I won't lie. I wondered about a miscarriage. My period two weeks ago was mostly normal on paper, but I thought it felt off. Maybe I'm crazy. And my post period temps have been mostly normal except for the two big drops, but my CM pattern has been completely off.

I REALLY don't want to call the doctor. I've mentioned before my issue with calling doctors. But, I have to, right? I mean, this is NOT normal. It is now 24 hours later and the bleeding is still significant.

I just really can't handle another issue at this point. I'm at my breaking point and this is just not helping.

Out of The Hubby's Mouth: Father's Day

"Happy Father's Day to my Father and all the Fathers out there. Pray that I will be a Father one day!!"

The Hubby's Father's Day Facebook post.

These are the things that make me remember why I want to have children with this man and also make the disappointments 1,000 times harder.

The Hubby is so different from me when it comes to trying and to the emotions of it all. He doesn't understand why it hurt to see my grandmother so enthralled by the itty-bitty newborn that she was holding that she didn't even greet me when I walked in the house or to hear my mother, once again, discussing pregnancy woes with someone who isn't me.  He can't comprehend the emotional toll that wacky hormones takes on my body month after month, day after day. He doesn't share my fears of how to live my life if it never happens.

But, every once and awhile, he pulls something like that out of his back pocket and makes up for all the rest.

NBA Finals Win Defeats PMS?

As it turns out, MY Dallas Mavericks winning the NBA Championship is the only thing in this very long TTC process to make me say (in regards to declining temps over the last two days; on 12DPO today) "but, that's okay; Mavs are NBA Champs!"

Who knew?

You might call me pathetic for admitting that a sporting event is the one thing that could make me happy despite the struggle when so many other good things have happened during this time - babies born to friends, nieces born, pregnancies announced, I got a long-awaited promotion, friends did not lose their jobs, baby brother graduated high school. There have been a lot.

Maybe it's because this wasn't personal to me. I don't know. Maybe I just love sports way too much - that's not really even a maybe.

But, I do know that, without a doubt, for today, I don't really care that my temps are dropping, that my boobs are killing me, and that I have definite cramping going on. I have fleeting sarcastic moments of "hey, great, I'm cramping" but then I can't help but smile. Because my team won a hard-fought, much deserved battle to get their their championship rings.

I'm riding this wave as long as I can!

Conquering a Demon?

We have a three bedroom home: master and two smaller rooms. When we bought the house, the first spare room was to be a game room for The Hubby to play his video games in, but that didn't happen because we got a 52" TV for the living room and that was clearly the better place for gaming (inser eye roll). So, that room became the workout room - Bowflex, exercise bike, and, eventually, an elliptical. It was great when I was going through my great get in shape phase. In December, we sold the exercise equipment in favor of the gym membership. The goal was again for that to be a gaming room, but we don't have a good enough TV (not another big screen, but better than what is/was in there). So, we hoped to turn it into an office.

The second spare bedroom became the guest bedroom. Except people never spend the night at our house. I think people have slept in that bed once, maybe twice, in the five years we've been here. But, it was the place to put the spare queen bed and the extra bedroom furniture and my teddy bear collection. (Yes, I have a teddy bear collection. I've had it for years and I refuse to give it up. I love them. Don't judge.) It has also become a little of a catch-all and the closet is actually storage for my massive amounts of Christmas decorations.

That second room was also to become a nursery should we have a baby while living in this house. (I say that because we originally intended to be here 3 to 5 years, so I wasn't sure if we'd get pregnant in that time. We'll be here a while longer.) It was even decorated as a beautiful little girl's nursery with light purple (my favorite color) walls and white furniture in the model home. I've always let my mind wander, fleetingly, how I would transform the room.

Until we started TTC.

From time to time, I let that room go and it becomes TOO much of a catch-all and bit messy. It was getting that way when we started trying. Now, 20 (or whatever) months later, it's actually gotten worse. In the beginning, I kept thinking I'd get myself in there for something to do. Not to get it ready to be a nursery, but just in case.

Eventually, it became the black hole. I kept thinking I didn't want to clean it because I didn't want to jinx it in some way. So stupid. Then, I just started avoiding it. At that point, I knew it should be a nursery, but it just wasn't happening. And I didn't want to open the door and be reminded of all the times I'd thought about nursery plans. The only time I go in now is to get wrapping paper and at Christmas to get my decorations.

Today, we are finally moving my home office area out of our master bedroom and into the first spare room. As I'm deciding how to design the room, I start thinking of other furniture to go in there. There are a few pieces in the would-be nursery that are getting no use (and wouldn't get use in a nursery) and would work in my office. The Hubby wants me to spend the weekend cleaning and organizing all the rooms (that sounds bad, but it's a mess I made and that I keep avoiding, so he's saying now would be a good time). I told him I still didn't want to do it and had no intention of cleaning out that room.

But, when I realized I wanted that furniture, I knew I had to clean that room to get it out and moved.

So, I'm doing the one thing I don't want to do. I feel like by doing it, I'm acting like I'm getting it ready to be a nursery. I know it's not. I know I need to not think like that, but it's in my head.

I hate that something so stupid as cleaning out a room in my own home that desperately needs to be cleaned turns into something IF/baby related to me.

Maybe by getting cleaned and looking pretty, I'll be able to move past that.

A Liar, of sorts

I think I've come to a decision that makes me a little bit of a liar.

I think I have about made the decision to stop trying to get pregnant.

Why does this make me liar? Because I've always said I couldn't stop trying unless I knew there was no way we could get pregnant or unless I had exhaused all the options.

Neither of those things has happened.

But, still, it's becoming a very real possibility that I cannot continue with the process - at least not how I have been.

I still want children, want to be a mom. Desperately. But at what cost?

My mental health is taking a beating. I've never been the most secure person on the plant - far from it. I have deep-seeded insecurities that have nothing to do with TTC, but I feel like my failure in that area has brought all the others back to the surface.

I keep thinking of that old saying "the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting different results." Hell, that's the definition of TTC.

Yes, we have other options. We could try fertility meds, we could do IUI. But, for so many reasons, I don't know that these are options for me. Emotionally, mentally, financially these options are not appealing. We quite literally can't afford them. And with where I already am mentally and emotionally, I don't know that those would be smart options. None of the options are quaranteed, so what will that do to me when the conventional methods are already taking their toll?

I just don't know how much more I can take. TTC doesn't take all my time and energy and thoughts like it did for a period of time. I think getting over the hump into IF and not feeling all the time that "this is SO going to be it" helped a little. But, lately, I just dread taking my temp. I don't even want to buy stupid OPKs. I'm tired of worrying about sex and when to have it and telling The Hubby what we can or can't do and when we should or shouldn't do something. I hate that right after sex, The Hubby says "but you aren't ovulating, are you?" It is 100% stressful, 100% of the time.

And I've been feeling more and more that maybe I should listen to the nagging part of my gut that tells me this isn't happening for a reason. It could be that all this time, I've been wrong. The thing about being a mom is I always felt like it was the one thing I would be really great at. I'm not really great at, well, anything. Put me in a group of people and despite any area I might excel at a little bit, I'm not known for being great at anything. For some reason, I always thought that would come when I was a mom.

But I feel like I'm being schooled there. I see so many moms around me who are truly exceptional. I'm in awe of them and I wonder if maybe I've been wrong. That maybe I wouldn't excel at being a mom and maybe somebody is trying to spare me the heartbreak of realizing that I suck at it.

That is probably, admittedly, my insecurities talking. But, I've really been thinking that there is a reason for this and I need to step back and take a closer look at things.

I could never stop wanting. Nothing will ever fill that void. Ever. And I won't ever do anything to keep from getting pregnant. No more birth control for me. I won't be avoiding fertile times. But I think the time has time come to stop this madness before I lose myself, my sanity, my marriage.

Nothing is set in stone. I'll chart out this cycle and go from there. This may just be a break. I don't know what this is.

All I know is whatever it is is not working for me anymore.

Anatomy of a BFN

I don't usually pick apart a cycle. I usually don't feel the need because I always feel like there were things we didn't do right or could have done better, so while disappointed and upset, I've tried to forge ahead with a better outlook for the next cycle.

This was different.

After the cycle before being a complete bust, which I turned out to be okay with, we resolved to do what we needed to do to get the job done.

We were continuing our fitness routine and I had added a BodyPump class once to twice a week (I will admit to missing quite a few workouts due to late nights staying up for playoff basketball). Of course I continued charting and broke the OPKs back out. The Hubby and I talked and we decided to see if we couldn't manage sex every day of positive OPKs.

Here's the thing about The Hubby and me. We've never been sex every day kind of people. In the nine and half years we've been together, I'm not sure we've ever had sex on back to back days except maybe the day we got married and the day after (and I'm not even 100% sure about that). Let's just say neither of us is usually up for that. But, he agreed to give it try. Since we know for sure there are no sperm issues, we figured it certainly couldn't hurt.

I got the first positive OPK on CD11. Sex. Another couple of positives on CD12. Sex during halftime of Game 2 Mavs vs. Lakers. Negative OPK on CD1 and a temp rise, BUT I had been ovulating on CD13 rather frequently and since positive OPKs indicate ovulation within the next 24 to 48 hours, we decided to try one more time. About killed us, but we did it. And I figured with the temp rise, at worst I would ovulate on CD14, but we had three days of sex before, so I wasn't worried.

Imagine my surprise when my temp went up again on CD14. One more high temp and I will have ovulated on CD12. Seriously? Apparanetly so because CD15 brought that temp rise and put me at 3DPO. While I thought this was odd, at least our timing couldn't have been better O-1, O, O+1. It really doesn't get any better than that.

And here came the "fun" part. The 2ww drag. BUT, I had a little something different going on this time - I was preparing for my Stella & Dot launch show, so I was distracted. Mark one toward the positive.

The Hubby bent over backwards to keep me stress free. He was wonderful. I had a major screwup - MAJOR. He acted like it was no big deal. He helped cook, clean, shop. He just did everything possible to make my life easier, so when he asked that I also think positive, it was easy to oblige. Mark two.

Then came the home stretch. Those last few days when emotions go crazy and phantom symptoms run rampant. So, symptoms? I just can't even tell them anymore, so I basically ignore ones that are there. The one I couldn't ignore was cramping, but since I'm not normally an early cramper, I did wonder.

Then there were the emotions. This is where it got interesting. My emotions were, in fact, all over the place, but there may have been underlying causes. This week at work was one of the best weeks we've had in a long time. We got multiple pieces of good news, so we were all on a bit of high. I think I got too caught up in it. I felt like maybe it was going to be a week of positives in more way than one. And this news indirectly affected some concerns I've had about maternity leave should I have gotten pregnant last cycle or this. So, maybe this really was all about timing.

And then my body messed with my mind yet again. I went all the way to 15DPO before buying tests. I have never had an LP longer than 14 days. Never say never.

Of course, it was not meant to be. And the reason I don't keep a positive outlook is because I fall so hard. I stayed positive right up until purchasing the pregnancy tests. I bought them, but I knew as I stood in line, I was wasting money.

I'm very angry. I know that I shouldn't be. I AM dealing with infertility. Plain and simple, no way around it. I am not going to get pregnant on my own. The problem is nobody else believes that. I fucking hate unexplained IF because people, including most importantly my own husband, do not think it is really real. Tests came back fine, so we just have to wait. Waiting and trying is futile at this point.

But, I also don't have a choice. I will talk to the doctor this cycle and make sure there is nothing else we want to test/look at before moving forward. At this point, though, the furthest we could move is Clomid. IUI is where we need to be, but we can't afford it and won't be able to for awhile. Hell, I don't actually even know how much the Clomid and the monitoring will be, so who knows if that will even be do-able (I'm sure it will be).

My hope has about run out. I can't handle much more of the pain and disappointment. Even when I'm numb to it, it's still too much to bear. I really feel like if it was going to happen for us, it would be happening without assistance. And it's not. If we can have perfect timing in so many ways and a perfect environment and not get pregnant, shouldn't I be taking THAT as a sign?

I truly, honestly do not know where I go from here. I'm tired of the whole thing. I feel like it is killing and picking away at my confidence and self esteem with each passing day. I feel sorry for myself. I feel bad for my husband and our families because I can't make a baby. I feel like a complete and utter failure (and I don't mean that I blame myself because I don't; I know it isn't actually my fault).

Two days into this new cycle, I don't know where I'm going. I've never entered a new cycle without hope, but that's how I feel right now. I feel like we will once again be going through the motions of trying to make a baby.

Only to fail again.