Storm Clouds

Where to start.

Four years, six months and 27 days.

That is how long we tried.

There were shots.

Ultrasounds.

Tests.

Surgery.

Trying.

Lots of trying.

Trying the old fashioned way.

Trying on a schedule.

Trying without a schedule.

Trying with IUI.

Trying with every ounce of trying we had.

But there was Frank.

Fibroid Frank, who isn't really a fibroid, but a mass with a really fancy name that I can't remember right now.  And Frank made his happy little home behind my uterus, bumping right up next to it so that he can't be removed without damaging my uterus in such a way it too, would have to be removed.  And he has been there for  years.  He has lived and thrived and grown.  Oh, how he has grown. He has pushed my left ovary out of the way for ever - hence it's name: Waldo.  But there was always the right guy.  The go to right ovary guy.  He was our saving grace.  Always full of follicles, he was going to see us through to the end. But then Frank grew.  And he has managed to push the ever faithful right ovary off to the side where he can't be reached. 

And with no available ovaries, there are no eggs. 

No eggs mean no IVF.

 No eggs, no IVF, no baby.

Thanks, Frank.

So we are done.  

We have given it every ounce of energy, every penny, every hope, every dream, every positive thought we had.

We gave it all.

We got back up with each set back and fought on, pushing through the hoops.

But this isn't the road that we are meant to take in our path to being parents.  

I'll never know why.

But I can't fight it - we did that.

It sucks.

It hurts.

It's frustrating.

I am angry.

I feel like I failed.

I feel like I failed my husband. 

My heart broke in a way I have never before experienced when I had to tell him that we were done.  

When I had to tell him I couldn't give him a baby, my heart shattered.

But through the rain and the clouds, there is always the sun.

And that sun is our next adventure:  Adoption.

This isn't how I pictured our family growing, I don't think either of us ever did, but it feels right. 

 It feels like this is the path we are meant to take.

What is this new path going to look like?  

We don't know.

What we do know is that we are on it together and we can't wait to see what we find along the way! 

And that's exciting!!

The Icing

In this crazy journey, it is so easy to get caught up in what you don't have . . . and then something happens and you are slapped in the face with what you DO have.

Yesterday we had a little scare.  

We took our beloved little fur baby Molly to the dog park.  She HATES the dog park.  Well, it's more of a love hate sort of relationship.  She LOVES getting to go, but HATES having to interact with the other dogs (she is a bit of a snob and won't play with just anyone).  But, at this particular park, there is a spot, just outside the dog park boundaries, that is a little service road and there is lots of fresh grass, which she loves.  Our normal routine when we go to this park is to  park the car on the opposite side of the park from this little grassy area.  We walk the long way around the park, go to the grassy area and run her.  It's by far her most favorite thing to do at the park!  Mister stays at one end of the grassy area, I walk quite a ways down and then we call Molly back and forth and she just RUNS . . . and smiles.  She LOVES this part of the park.  When she is all tuckered out, we cut back across the park, led by our little fur baby who is ready to go to her car and go home to her couch.

We did this yesterday.  We parked on the far end of the dog park, walked the long way through the outskirts of the park along the river and made our way to the beloved grassy area.  She was in heaven.  She looked like a little bunny hopping through the grass.  Then all of a sudden, she collapsed.  She was hurt.  Back right leg was pulled up as tight as she could get it against her body.  The Mister waited with her while I went to get the car (longest walk ever) and then we were off to the puppy ER.  

She cried the entire way to the vet.  She was not happy.  Papa sat in the back with her the whole way and did what he could to make her comfortable.  

We thought she had hurt her paw, but it turns out, she may have damaged her CCL - the equivalent of our ACL.  She has pain meds and anti inflammatory meds.

18 hours later (babying, coddling, cuddling, loving on the Moo 18 hours later) she seems ok.   Like nothing ever happened ok.  Weight is being put on both legs.  No crying.  No anything.  If you were to see her right now, you would think we are crazy.  And maybe we are.  But the thought that SOMETHING could have happened to her and she could be gone scared the crap out of us.  

We are in every definition of the term . . . crazy dog people.  She is our baby.  Our one and only child . . . with fur and four legs, but that doesn't matter.  We are her everything and she is ours.  And that is what matters.

This blog has been so focused on what I don't have and it's depressing.  Depressing because I have a lot.  So much more than so many people.  I am very lucky.  I feel bad that Molly had to be in pain for me to remember that, but I got it.  :-)  

A baby won't complete us - the Mister and me.  We are already complete.  Our relationship is stronger and more solid than it ever has been before (in so many ways thanks to this infertility journey, oddly enough!).  We have the most amazing life.  We have everything we could ever want and then some.  A baby won't complete our family, it would just be the icing on the cake.  The sweetest, richest, life enhancing icing.  

I want the icing, but I am really, really happy with the cake.

Tricky

I have a friend . . . or maybe had a friend.  I don't know how I would classify our relationship now.    She got pregnant randomly with a guy who she was on again off again with.  The news of the baby changed everything.  They were all of a sudden back together, getting married, having a baby and living the happy perfect little life me and the Mister had been yearning for for years.  Years.  

I know they were in shock with the news of their new little person.  I get that.  But there were talks of abortion.  Jokes of putting it up for adoption.  Complaints of how hard life was now that she was pregnant - from both parties.  It sucked.  It hurt.  Here were people who were our very, very best couple friends and every single time we hung out with them, there was complaining and woe is me'ing.

They knew our situation.  I even put myself out there and told her EVERYTHING.  I said how hard it was for me to hear them talk about how this wasn't what they wanted.  But it didn't get better.  Rather than being excited to hang out with our friends, I began to dread it.  I would spend the entire drive home from their place in tears.  It hurt to hear all of this again and again.   It hurt even after the baby was born and majority of the conversation was filled with the normal new parent complaints - but I would have given anything to trade spots with them.   It really, really hurt.  It hurt to hear, but I think it hurt because it was coming from people who were supposed to be our best friends.  But they never stopped to think about what they were saying and how it was impacting both me and the Mister.  Because let's be very clear, I was not the only one impacted by the things that were said.  

I put up walls.  The Mister doesn't.  It's a trait of his I admire more than anything, a trait I pray our little koala inherits from it's papa.  Putting up walls, it's what I do.  I avoid situations where I have to be around them.  And as a result, we don't have a relationship anymore.  The Mister still hangs out with them from time to time.  But I don't.  

My actions have probably burned that bridge.  And it sucks.  I am not proud of it  I take responsibility for it.  I pay for it when I am uninvited to their house and am left off of invitations.  I should have done things differently.   I wish I was stronger.  I wish I had thicker skin.  I wish I could let what people say just roll off my back rather than internalizing it.  I wish I didn't have such high standards for others.  I wish I was able to put my walls back down.  I wish I didn't expect people to know what to say and what not to say to people struggling with infertility.  They don't and why would they?  Infertility isn't something that is openly discussed.  Ever.

Today I was stumbling around Pinterest, taking it easy after IUI Round Two and I found this blog entry.  It takes everything I want people to know and puts it into words in a way that I can't.  Maybe if I had found this earlier and wasn't so quick to put up my walls this would have helped and I still would have my friend. 

Empowered

Empowered.

That is not what comes to mind when one thinks about their infertility journey.  

What comes to mind is quite the opposite, really.

It's almost like one should be ashamed of their struggles.  I mean come on.  This is one of the most natural processes in the entire world.  We are biologically driven to procreate.  When you get that positive test you want to share it with the world.  When you see nothing but negative tests month after month, you are supposed to hide it, pretend like it doesn't hurt and tell yourself, "maybe next month . . ."

But then I saw this.  And it struck a cord.  Pure, raw honesty . . . and I LOVED it.  After reading it I felt empowered for perhaps the first time in three years.  I don't have to hide.  And in fact, I am not hiding anymore.

I had George and Frank removed about a month ago (well, kinda . . . more on that very soon!!) and for some reason I posted to Facebook about heading home from the hospital and in that post, I was tagged at the hospital.  I didn't tell but a handful of people that I was going in to deal with George and Frank, so the response to me posting a vague status update from the hospital was shocking to some.  But the next morning, I stumbled upon Bobbie's article, and was empowered to be honest.  I put it out there.  I put it out there that I was in for a fertility related procedure that would hopefully help us make more positive progression on our baby mission.  I actually dubbed this whole thing "The Great Hritsko Baby Challenge."  

I put it out there.  

And I felt relieved.  

And I don't feel like I have to hide anymore.

I feel empowered.

#nomorewhispers