six months

Already six months old! I can't believe it. Our little guys is sleeping 6-7 hours each night - in his crib! We're on a roll this week - he's slept in his crib four nights in a row. I hope we can keep it up. I have to admit on the nights that he sleeps in his bassinet next to our bed the main reason is I still love to have him him right next to me. I sleep easier, because I can wake up and hear his breathing.

My mother-in-law was the one who told me that I just have to trust in God that he's safe and sound in his crib at night (after my husband and I have each checked on him twice) and I'm getting better at trusting in that. He cries pretty loud when he's unhappy or wet, so there's no way we can't hear him.


The home study packet for our adoption and all of the paper work for our sibling adoption and transfer through the NEDC are waiting to be opened and started. I'm supposed to call the RN from the NEDC this month to talk about next steps and preparing for our check up appointment in August and our hopeful transfer in November.

I'm praying everything is okay with my uterus after my c-section and that I'm cleared to get pregnant again. I worry about these things. When the doctor walked in and told us that she was recommended at c-section when I was in labor with Logan (after 59 hours of labor) my only hesitation was because I knew it could effect future transfers (we had a monitor on Logan at the time and he was doing okay and did great the entire time I was in labor with him.)

I know I'll have to trust in God about my body being able to carry another baby again as well. It would be another huge, huge blessing. One I will not take for granted. So far my body seems to be recovering well from my c-section, but I haven't had a scan done on my uterus. I will have to wait until August to see what is in store for us and our family.

Sending prayers and hope to all of you on this journey.

xo Jill

hormone flux + disappointment

Well, ladies my hormones are all messed up again. Remember this past summer? Me and clomid? Well, I should have guessed that my body would also react in a similar way to all of those IVF drugs. Because my period has not arrived - nor am I pregnant.

This could mess up my mock trial which is going to culminate on December 1, when my husband and I drive out to Tennessee to meet with Dr. K. and see how my body responds to the estrace. Blurg. I called NEDC this morning and spoke with the IVF nurse. She said that if my period doesn't show up by next Monday to give them a call. Apparently I have about a week's worth of wiggle room to still make this test run. We'll still head out to Tennessee to get the ball rolling, but I will have to do my mock trial here and have my results send to Dr. K. I just wish we could do it all there.

Now I'm praying for my period.

No comment.

Today was a rough day at work. I had recovered somewhat the night before, but sitting at work I realized that my sister-in-law is pregnant and I'm not. I just felt like shit. I know it's bad. I just read what I wrote . . . but I still felt like shit. It's just that it happened and it happened to someone else and I don't wanna celebrate with her.

I want to pout in the corner like a baby. I want to cry and throw a tantrum.

But I will do none of those things. Sigh. It's her turn now. It's sucks for us, but her pregnancy has redefined their entire life. Transformed. Now they have so many new hopes and assumptions about their future.

I emailed my brother to congratulate him. Just a short note. I tried to make it funny and heartfelt. I was disappointed when he emailed me back that he knew I would be happy for him. No comment about how we must be feeling about having a failed IVF the same month they got pregnant.

I was disappointed in him. If my husband were here he would ask "but where you surprised by his words?"

No. I wasn't.

I'm sad that he didn't acknowledge our struggle in contrast to his joy. The acknowledgment of that would have meant that we are "in relationship." That we as siblings have a symbiotic relationship. That our joys and sorrows are shared. (I believe they are.) But he doesn't see it. So often we isolate those who struggle. We cut off their pain from our joy. We don't talk about it.

If he just could have said: "Yah, we're so happy. We know how blessed we are. We struggled a bit, you know, but we got lucky. I know how much you have struggled. I know how hard last month was for you. This must be hard for you. Thank you for the congratulations. I hope you guys are pregnant soon too."

Instead he said: I knew you'd be happy for us. That's it.

I read back through my blogs and I am aware that I'm pretty hyper-critical about people's words. I'm usually labeling people as jerks. No one can seem to say anything right. I mean, I know I'm that way. I'm a critical person. That's not so good.

But come on - my brother and his wife got pregnant the month we had a failed IVF - I shared our grief with them in a very real email - and they can't even acknowledge our struggle.

I'll acknowledge your joy - you recognize our struggle. Just once.

12 baby sweaters (and silence)

I've been knitting baby sweaters for a while now. Before I realized that I would be struggling with infertility it was always a joy for me to knit a baby sweater for my sister, cousin or friend that was pregnant. I've cast a tidy number off my knitting needles these past five years. I'm showing twelve here, but the real number is probably around twenty.

I've thought a lot about infertility - specifically about what makes is so painful. (Haven't we all, right?) I finally articulated something in my mind today that I wanted to write down - just to get it out there.

When I was knitting these baby sweaters for the women in my life I was taking part in the society of women in my world. I don't think you can recognize that code and conduct of a society or social group until you are for some reason on the outside of it - as I am now. When I was knitting these sweaters I was filled with hope and excitement - in part because I like to make something pretty and useful - but also because I was riding on the hope and confidence that someday it would be my turn - to receive a baby sweater for my child. Soon it would be my turn to have other women be hopeful and excited for me.

That hasn't happened.

Most of the important women in my life, my mom, mother-in-law, sister, sisters-in-law, cousins and female relatives and friends know that my husband and I are struggling with infertility. They are - so far - all fertile. I have knit something for every one of them that has had a child.

Everyone - except my sister and closest cousin - have remained silent about my struggle with infertility. Some people think that commenting on our ongoing quest to adopt is a way of broaching that topic - and even though an adopted child would be great - that's not acknowledging the pain I've experienced with our infertility.

This sucks for me.

I feel very cheated and let down that the society of women in my world is so brittle and weak that it's not robust enough to also contain my infertility.  How hard can if be to acknowledge my struggle on a private and sincere level? It should be something that we teach our daughters. This is important and painful to some people and it needs to be acknowledged. Who can teach them this?

Me? At this point all the women in my life pity me and think I'm a crazy B-I-T-C-H.

I don't expect acknowledgement from everyone - that would be too much. But from someone? Anyone?

Today I found out at work that one of my cousins and his wife had their third child. They named their son the same name as my husband. They excluded us from their email announcement about the birth of their son.

I was (and am) devastated. (Though that is fading fast.) I knit their first child a baby sweater by the way - the purple and blue striped one.

This whole infertility thing could make me into a really bitter person - if I let it. I'm really trying not to let it. I may stop knitting baby sweaters for other women though.

IVF # 1 - waiting and hoping

Waiting has been my theme these past few months as we gear up for our first IVF cycle. We signed our contract this past Wednesday, reviewed our protocol, and our clinic called in our prescriptions. Our clinic runs its IVF cycle two weeks out of each month. Guess when August's protocol starts? You probably guessed it - the last two weeks of the month.

So we're waiting AGAIN to get our protocol started. Ug.

I'm glad I have these two weeks though, because I found out that our clinic called our meds into a pharmacy in Arizona. (We live in Minnesota.) Not sure what's going on there, but I have to wait to sort things out until Monday. Maybe they found me some better prices down in Arizona. I'm trying to be positive here because I'm not too impressed with how my clinic has handled this part of the process. I'm not someone who needs her hand held, but I am someone who would like to know all the facts, doses, fees, etc.

The IVF coordinator said that she would email me on Thursday a list of instructions and that list has not arrived. I would just like some follow through. Don't say you're going to send something and not send it.

Luckily I am very impressed and confident with the lab people and my doctor at our clinic - those are the real miracle workers. I guess I can handle a few email and prescription glitches. We are not down to the wire yet.

I was talking to my sister on the phone last night and I told her how much this first IVF cycle would be costing us - we're guessing around 11 to 12 thousand dollars and she said:

"It's that much for one? I thought is was that much for three?" Then she said: "So you could spend 36 thousand dollars trying to have a baby?"

I wanted to scream "duh! Duh! Duh!" But I just stayed calm and confirmed her estimate. When I got off the phone with her I was kinda depressed. Even the closest people to us have no comprehension about the emotional and financial costs of these treatments.

And is may not even work . . .

Believe me, I haven't been all doom and gloom this week. I've been pretty positive. I've even been dreaming that we are pregnant. I had two dreams this week that I was pregnant. In one of the dreams I was pregnant with twins. In the other I was holding our baby. I think this is good news. I think my subconscious is finally starting to believe that we will be parents.

Every day I just say to myself: "IVF works." Because it does. And whenever I say that I feel a surge of positive energy course through my system.

I had my annual exam this week and my doctor was also very positive about IVF. She said: "You're going to get pregnant." Two years ago I would have been nodding my head and smug, at that moment I was quietly subdued and hopeful.

I won't count my chicks until they've hatched, but I will hope and pray with all my heart for them.

Sending love:

Jillian

family gatherings

Before infertility I enjoyed hanging around with my husband's family and friends. Looking back I have to admit that part of my enjoyment rested in a steady belief that soon we would be the smug parents of a growing family. Soon I would be a busy mother chasing her toddler around the room to the humorous comments of observing grandparents and aunties and uncles.

But our infertility has put a stop to that.

It's hard to keep going to family gatherings and say hello to some of my husband's cousin's wives who are on their third and fourth children. They just don't comprehend our situation.

We have a gathering that we can't avoid next week. A cousin is visiting from Ireland. She has an infant who is the same age as our nephew. I'm sure my sister-in-law and her husband with be there with said nephew. The talk will probably be all about babies and I will find myself in the backyard doing a poor job of hiding out with the host's poodle.

I don't want to go - but it can't be avoided. Everyone will know why I wasn't there. That I couldn't take it.

They have no idea how hard it is to attend family gatherings and put on a happy face.

I'm counting down the days of our IVF cycle. I hope that this doesn't end in more pain and despair. I know I can't place my hope and faith that this cycle will work . . . if I do that I will end up more hurt than ever.

I have some modest hope that it will work. (That hope is so strong, but it's tempered with experience.)

Will having a baby and being a mother make attending family gatherings easier? Will I ever forget how people slighted and ignored us during this difficult time? Will I come out a bigger and better person?

I hope so.

wednesdays

Wednesdays are hard.

It's on Wednesdays that my mom, my sister and my cousin gather at my parent's house (my sister with her two little girls ages three and one and my cousin with her two month old son) to hang out. I can't be a part of this - I'm not a mother. (Nor can we afford for me to take a day off in the middle of the week - plus it's a 180 mile round trip.) I feel left out. Usually I'm too busy at work to imagine what they are doing - but it hurts.

I'm never invited to these gatherings. There's never been the "hey, I know you're usually working, but just this one time would you like to join us?" comment extended by any of the participating parties. In fact, if I do complain I'm made to feel like I'm a whiner. Anyway, Wednesdays suck.

That's just how I feel.

Someday I know I'm going to be a mother, but from where I'm sitting now I can't ever imagine wanting to hang out with the women who have basically ignored me this entire struggle. Yes, my mother, my sister, my closest cousin - they have very much ignored me. And I know why - they feel bad, they do - momentarily - but then they are so busy with their lives and their young families that they just can't stay trapped in the problems of someone else for very long. We all have to live our own lives.

I know there are worse things than infertility. But the idea of having to live a childless life just kills me. I'm not choosing to live this way. I'm doing everything I can to get us out of this.

Today I had a lot of ovulation pain and all of the other classic signs of ovulation, it's too bad my husband is on active duty down in Kansas. Last year I would have thrown a fit about this - him missing my fertile days, but after 6 failed IUIs I've learned patience.

It is what it is. He can't be here. Making myself upset would only be making myself upset and I need to gather calmness, equanimity and peace around me like a healing cloak, so that my body can be prepared to carry a child this autumn.

I want to believe I'm one Wednesday closer to being a mom . . . so that's what I'm going to do.