Really?

There is a reason I never pick up the phone. There is a reason I've been a total recluse for the past howevermany years now. Because each time I talk to someone it is another opportunity for the Universe to remind me of just how fertile the rest of the world is. Seriously. 

I spent a large portion of my day yesterday reaching out to anyone and everyone I could think of that might have some work they could possibly throw my way. I left cheery little voice mails all over town. Well today a woman called me back.  A wedding coordinator I've worked with like one time. The first time I met her, it was not too long after my miscarriage (I can't remember exactly when it was...) and she announced that she was pregnant right there in a client meeting with the me, and the client. She wasn't even showing yet. But she was all, "Oh, by the time of the event (the client's event, which we were meeting about) I'll be as big as a house! Hahaha." I just remember feeling like I was on fire and trying not to scream throughout that entire meeting, and then coming home and crying and being a wreck for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, I didn't end up getting hired for that event (gee, I can't imagine why? did I seem like a total weirdo during the meeting despite my best efforts to act normal?), so I didn't get to see her all "as big as a house." The next time I talked to her, it was around this time last year? Maybe a little earlier, like December. Of course by then we had had our whirlwind adoption, and I had a baby. And she had hers, of course. We were supposed to meet with another client together at that time, but Handsome Man had the flu and I had called to cancel. Now, a year later, bless her heart, she was the first person out of all those messages I left yesterday, to call me back. Feeling strong and good enough these days to actually ask people how their babies are doing or pregnancies are going*, I inquired about her baby. She started laughing and told me that she had just had her second baby. Hahaha. So, yes, she's really busy. More laughter, hahha. "Oh congratulations, blah, blah blah," I said, while I felt like the wind had just been knocked out of me. Two babies in less than 3 years. 

This is why I never answer the phone. But not answering the phone is not a good thing when you are trying to make money running your own business. 

I also love it when I get the announcements from past brides that they are expecting. It's like, ok, I just did your wedding 6 months ago (or whatever) and now you're pregnant. Yippee. 

Meanwhile, I sit here waiting for the phone to ring from the doctor's office to find out about my lap. That lady has still not called me back. I am half-inclined to drive up there (30 minutes away) and walk in and demand to have someone speak to me! Grrr. All so I can pay for the pleasure of having my insides scraped out, so that maybe maybe maybe I'll have a small chance of becoming pregnant? A pregnancy I'll have to shell out big bucks for. While the world goes on around me and people pop out babies like pez candies. 

This is why I don't answer the phone. Or read the magazines in the grocery aisle. Seriously.

*ok, maybe that is an exaggeration. I can ask after people's babies. At least I can relate to caring for and loving a baby. But I am not really in a place where I can ask people about their pregnancies. The lady at my son's daycare is pregnant and I see her belly growing day by day, but I never ask the usual, "So, how are you feeling?" question that everybody always asks pregnant women. I keep it the topics of Handsome Man, work, the weather. So, I guess I am a whimp. Oh well.

One Foot In Front of the Other

Hello everyone, and once again, and as always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the supportive comments. 

I am doing ok. I have been trying to not think too long or too hard (though it's difficult sometimes) about what my body is or is not doing. At this point, it is somewhat out of my control. Or maybe entirely out of my control. No amount of healthy living and supplements and wheat grass is gonna turn around what already is. Though being healthy is good, it isn't going to make any babies spring forth from this body on its own. So, I am just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. One day at a time. I have two things on the immediate horizon: The lap and hysteroscopy my gyno has planned for me, and also the follow up to my thyroid testing. I have my follow up appointment to go over my blood work scheduled for March 5th, and am trying to get my surgery scheduled for the following day. (I am waiting to hear back from the woman who schedules the surgery for that doc. She was supposed to get back to me by today, so I have already called her and harassed her -nicely- on her voicemail once today). Once I have the surgery, and know what if any the results were (if I have endo, or if there was anything else wonky going on in there) then I will have more information about what to do next. Surely, if I do have bad endo, then having it 'cleared out' can only be a good thing, whether I proceed with IVF with my own eggs, or with DE. Either way, a healthy environment for embryos to grow in can only be a positive, right? And as for the thyroid? Who knows. Maybe something was out of whack and it can be corrected. Then I will have that information and can make a choice about how to move forward. If all is normal with the thyroid, and it can NOT be blamed for my weird cycles, then I will have to move forward and have my FSH et al tested again, and let those results direct me on how to proceed. I can't figure it all out at once, I need to get the information one step at a time. And hopefully the path will become clear. But I am on the path. That is the important thing. I am not going to be sitting out on the sidelines any longer. I know that I had to take myself out of the game for different reasons at different times, and I can't go back into the past and beat my self up for it (though my brain would like to --and I have to keep telling it to shut up, already!). It is what it is. I am moving forward, bit by bit. 

So Many Reasons to Be Happy

...and I am totally despondent. 

Thank you everyone for letting me vent about what is probably just run of the mill raising a toddler. I felt better just getting it out. So, thank you.

There are a lot of things in my life right now that should be making me very very happy. So many things to be grateful for. 

Number one of course is my gorgeous son.

I've been holding out on you guys about a couple of other things, too. The short rundown (I had wanted to do a longer post but I am dog tired right now) is as follows: 

New gyno. I LOVE HIM. Same practice as my old doc, but new doctor. Finally someone is taking me seriously. He is checking things out. He thinks my thyroid might be wonky. So I'm getting it tested. And I am getting scheduled for a lap. Finally someone is taking my endo theory seriously too. Mister and I have been making plans for a possible IVF come this fall. And, most recently, Mister's mom and dad told us, on my birthday, that they are gifting us a nice big chunk of money. Enough money to help us pay down some of our debt, and sock some away to make that IVF a definite and not just a maybe. We still can't go hog wild. It isn't enough to throw at endless IVFs. But still. We get to. Finally. 

So I should be happy? Right?

Right. Except. It might be too late for that IVF to do any good. My cycles have been getting shorter and I have been ovulating very very early. Today I got my period. A 21-day cycle. This is bad, bad news. This may mean the end for my ovaries. That first RE told me this is what would happen. There was just a huge part of me that didn't believe him. I kept thinking eventually, I'd get pregnant. It happened to my mom, right? Even though we went forward with an adoption, I thought one day I'd fall pregnant. Month after month, year after year. At least a tiny piece of me believed. 

Now I think I am turning a corner. I don't go into each new month thinking (at all, not even in the back recesses of my mind) that maybe just maybe this will be the month I'll get my miracle. I have known for sure for a while now that it will take big time Treatment. And now. It looks like if we do do that IVF it will have to be with donor eggs. I am open to it--but I am sad. I'm really really sad and just hate this body of mine. I have been so depressed I feel like I'm on the verge of tears all the time. I fake all my happy feelings. I have gotten very good at faking it. 

I feel lost. 

My only hope right now is that I actually DO have a thyroid problem and it is making my cycles wonky. But that is a long-shot. Only an infertile would actually hope for a thyroid problem. Ha! 

I need to talk to Mister about all of this, but he doesn't like to hear about my feelings about this infertility stuff. It is too frustrating for him, I guess, probably because he feels so powerless to do anything to make it better. And, because it's been going on for so long, he's just exhausted by it. So, I just keep it to myself. 

I've been waking up every morning since my birthday and the first thought in my mind has been that my life is over. WTF? That is fucked up. I don't think that on purpose. It's like the thought just sits there waiting for me in my subconscious,  waiting to pounce on me the moment I open my eyes. 

I think I may be going insane. And into menopause. 

WTF!!!!!

Confession Time

I'm going to complain about parenting stuff in this one.

Ok, I have a confession to make. But first, let me preface everything I'm about to say with this:
1. I love (LOVE!) my son.
2. I am more grateful than you may ever know that he is mine. I still don't know how we wound up with truly, the world's cutest dang kid ever.
3. He is a GOOD kid. Really. I am SURE I have it a lot easier than some moms.

BUT. (Here's the confession part). I really, really HATE the stage he is in right now. That term the terrible two's gets thrown around a lot, and G-d help me, he's only just about to turn two, so maybe things will get even worse before they get better, but boy-oh-boy this stage is kicking my ass. There have been many times over the past several weeks where I have even found myself contemplating whether or not I really and truly do want another baby. Huh? Wha? Hasn't that been my whole raison d'etre for like, I don't know, the past 5 years? Crap.

Here's a little run down of what's got me feeling beat:

He won't take naps anymore. Okay? N-O naps. This means, on the days when he is home with me (and I feel a little guilty even complaining about and of this because I am not a 100% SAHM. He does go to daycare part of the week) he will not take a single nap. Ever since he broke (yes, BROKE) his crib a few months ago, and we switched to the big boy bed, the naps have been a source of dissent and much teeth gnashing (on my part at least). At first, we/I could sometimes get him to nap, if I just read his cues and pretty much locked him in his room when it was nap time. He would fuss for a while, and cry, but eventually, he would succumb to sleep. Sometimes this meant he would fall asleep in his big rocking chair instead of the bed, but as long as he was sleeping, I was ok with it. Now, no matter what I do, no matter how tired he may be, no matter how long I try to let him cry it out, there is no giving in. He. Will. Not. Sleep. That means for me a couple of things: 1. I have no down time in during the day, at all. 2. He is not getting enough sleep therefore he is a cranky monster for about 60% of the day. 3. I am so frustrated after TRYING to get him to take a nap, I'm an emotional wreck.

2. Whining. He has suddenly taken to whining/fake crying to get whatever he wants. 24/7. This does not make any sense to me because he has always been a very pleasant kid, has not, prior to this time, been whiny at all, and we've always been able to communicate very well. I taught him some basic baby sign language early on, so he's pretty much always been able to communicate his needs/wants to me without the whining. And now, his language skills are coming on line too, so along with the sign language there's really no reason for the whining. Other than to drive me berserk. Seriously. I have to keep saying, "How do we ask without whining?" "Can you tell/show Mommy what you want without whining, please?" And he can. But after a full day of this (and without the naps, you can only imagine the fever pitch of his crankitude by, say, dinner time) I am ready to start drinking. The hard stuff.

3. Throwing. He has suddenly decided that it is really cool to throw stuff. Especially his food, off the high chair tray or table. Why? I don't know! Because he knows it's a no-no. He will do it, and I'll say, "Handsome Man, we don't throw our food. If you do that again, there will be no more dinner/snack/lunch." Then he will look me dead in the eyes, hold a piece of food out over the edge of his tray, wait a second, and then....drop. Gaaahhh! Then of course he throws a fit when I then say, "Ok. Dinner/lunch/snack is over." and remove him from the high chair.

4. Speaking of fits. Yes, he likes to throw them. Kicking, screaming, bucking tantrums. (And I have the dental work to prove it, remember?) I honestly think that he is not as bad as other kids around his age. I have seen some doozies out in public with other people's kids, and I can only pray that the worst is NOT yet to come. But, on top of the other stuff I am ill-equipped to handle the tantrums when they do happen. And they are happening more frequently.

5. Messes. The kid enjoys making messes. If there is something in a drawer or on a shelf that he can reach, he will pull everything out/off. Again, and again and again. As many times as I can put stuff away in a given day, he can pull it out. So now his room looks like a cell, with just a bed, and empty shelves. Oh well.

6. General button-pushing and boundary-checking. I know this is normal. I know this is exactly what he is supposed to be doing at this stage, but folks, I'm beat. All I hear myself saying all day long is "HM, what did I JUST say? No!" "No, we don't do that." "HM, get down off there right now, you know that is not allowed." "HM get off of there right now you are going to get hurt." "That's daddy's/mommy's please put that back." "Give that to mommy please." "HM, I said, give that to me, please!" "Do you want a time out?" I sound like a freaking caricature of a crazed mom.

7. Potty training. I am so proud of him, and he is doing a great job. But some days it takes A LOT of coaxing and prodding to get him to use the potty when I know he needs to. Even just getting him to let me change his diaper/pull-ups when I know it's necessary requires a lot of strength. Sometimes physical as well as emotional. (Have I ever mentioned how strong this kid is?) I also have had to clean up a lot of near misses and messes. (Comes with the territory, I know). I am proud as heck, but I hate it. I really hate it. It is just adding another layer to the stress that I am already dealing with (see #1-6).

8. Not sleeping through the night/early waking. I'm also sleep deprived because despite the fact that my kid was one of those amazing kids that slept through the night by like 3 months old, he is now often waking up (crying, screaming, etc) in the middle of the night. Mister has done some research and is convinced that it is because, paradoxically, he is not getting enough sleep (see #1). I know this is most likely true, but WTF? It means that yours truly is getting up in the night and spending anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours awake with him trying to find a way to soothe him back to sleep. On the "good" nights when he sleeps all the way through, he's been waking up too early. The past few days its been earlier and earlier.

For the past several weeks I have had a headache at the top of my neck, base of my skull, which goes between stabbing/throbbing/burning. I am exhausted all the time. I have been experiencing terrible mood swings.

As many of you know, my husband has a sucky commute (and we were going to try to move to make that better but we're staying put for the meantime, more on that later). So he often does not get home until after 8pm. I can tell you that by the time he gets home, I am spent. I am totally done. I have nothing left to give. I am a cranky bitch, or I'm just a dial tone. One or the other. Even on the days when HM is in daycare, there is the fact that I have a shitload of work to usually get done in the time that I have, so it's not like I'm going back to bed (even though Mister says I should). And, I am responsible for getting him from daycare, (at which point, he's happy to see me, but by the time we get to the car, he is already throwing a screaming fit because he doesn't want to get into his car seat), drive home, feed him, bathe him, get teeth brushed, use the potty, jammies, and bed time ritual. I also have to deal with the dog, the cats, and figure out what Mister and I will have for dinner. So, even though I get a "break" during the day, the time in the evening is pretty exhausting.

p.s. I know this is just a phase and yes, I do want another child. But the upshot of this experience is that 1.I'm actually GLAD in a weird way that the treatments didn't work last year because I would have an INFANT right now on top of all of this (how do people DO that?) and 2. I can tell you (at least for now) that I will be totally satisfied with just 2 kids. (I hope we will succeed in that). After #2 comes along I will not be wistfully thinking about trying to find a way for a third. We will be finished. Ahhh. And we can move on with our lives without the family building conundrum looming over us any more. Won't that be nice? See? There's always a silver lining.

p.s.s The really BIG confession that I should be making here is that I am a TERRIBLE parent. The other day, after an ill-fated attempt at getting HM to nap, and after having spent many hours cleaning throughout the day, I went into his room to find a monstrous mess (I had left him in there with a bottle--in a crazed attempt to try to get him to quiet down for a nap) and he had sprayed milk everywhere. He had pulled out all of his diapers, his clothes out of the hampers, and he had gotten his own diaper off and had peed. He'd pulled all his books out and his blankets off the bed, and you couldn't even walk any where. Well, I totally lost it. I yelled at him. I mean really yelled. I am sure I had the look of a crazed maniac on my face, too, and it really scared him. I am not proud. In fact, I had a grapefruit sized pit in my stomach for about two days after. I think Mister is still mad at me about it, too. I am not very impressed with myself and have even wondered if there is some bigger reason why I am unable to procreate? Am I just not cut out for the task of parenting? Yeah, I'm thinking I really suck right now.

Hellloooo 37.

Today is my birthday. I am 37. I never imagined that I would be here, where I am, now. But how could I? First of all, my mom conceived me at 37. SIXTEEN years after my sister, with no other kids in between (although she had 2 miscarriages). I was a "miracle" pregnancy. My parents were sure their baby-maker was busted and had stopped thinking about the remote possibility of having another child. My sister was a senior in high school. My mom had plans to go back and finish her college degree. Life was moving in another direction. Oops. There I was. But, I always felt, growing up that my parents were so OOOLLDD!! My mom was 38 when I was born and my dad was 40. Granted, by today's standards that is nothing out of the ordinary. But when I was growing up it was sort of odd. And, my dad was one of those people (and unfortunately, I have inherited some of this) who aged more rapidly than he should of, and he looked much older than his true age. Also, while most of my friends' parents were comparably younger and hipper, and had much more energy, my parents were still living in the 1950's. It was really a drag. So I swore if I ever had kids, I would have them super young, and be a young, hip mom. I never even imagined what my life would be like at 37 because, surely, by 37, life would pretty much be over and I'd just be waiting to die....right? So, here I am... wow. I'm not really sure what to say. I hope I can do better by my one child than my parents did by me. I realize now that age is more about attitude than years, and my parents were just living in a different era. They also were unhappy people and had given up on living life, and that is what made them seem so.....old. I will try to be more energetic, more in tune, more aware, and yes, if I can, way more "hip" than my parents were. I will try to continue to take care of my health, and hopefully (unlike my father) I will live a long healthy life and get to see my son grow up, become an adult, and not only dance at his wedding, but show the youngin's a thing or two. I will hold my grandchildren, and if I'm super lucky I'll be around to see them blossom toward or into adulthood as well. Hell, maybe one day I'll even hold a great grandchild in my arms. If I'm with it enough to know who I'm looking at. Ahhh, this is a hard one, for me folks. But I am trying to stay calm. Life is what you make of it, and life has moved in a much different direction than I ever thought. I pray that I will be able to bring another child into this family and that Handsome Man will not grow up an only child. I pray that I will find the inner strength and God will help me to be a good mom. I pray that I will hold onto my youthful feelings about life, even if my face reveals a different image in the mirror. (Thankfully, there is Botox and other stuff, that, once I can afford it, I'm aaaaalll over). I pray that this year I can find some resolutions to my sorrow and my longings, and whether that means making peace with what I have and moving on, or pursuing another adoption, or doing DE/IVF or hell, getting a miracle and getting pregnant with my own eggs, that by 38 I'll be a little closer to where I want to be. But I also know that I can't put too many demands on an age or a year. I realize I have no control over this. I can only do what little tiny bit is mine to do...with the limited resources we have. I need to be ok with wherever I am this time next year. And that will be a challenge, I'm sure.

I am thankful for my friends, both "real" and "from the internets," my husband and Dear God my wonderful son.

My challenge to myself for year #37 will be to do the OPPOSITE of what my parents did. Instead I need to pursue Life--to live, have fun, be engaged in my son's life. To have friends, have goals, and to feel inspired and....Alive. I have a lot of work ahead of me. I will have to start digging myself out of a pretty deep hole that I've dug myself into over the past few years....a hole of despair and apathy brought on by the overwhelming disappointment that is Infertility. So, (*grabbing shovel*) here I go. Wish me luck.