Catharsis

Today, I had a productive day at work, and then a productive day at home. I did a deep cleaning of my apartment. I am not always the tidiest of people, and my husband is usually way too busy to clean much, but I make sure I do at least half-an-hour's worth of cleaning everyday. Today was far more productive than usual, though. There is something truly peaceful about knowing that everything is clean and in its rightful place. When I used to get angry or depressed, I could always be found in the bathroom or kitchen, scrubbing the floor by hand one foot at ta time. I would scrub for hours and hours. I think it made me feel the same way that runners feel about going for a run...it was cathartic. When I am doing deep cleaning, time and the worries and the entire world melt away. I get lost deep deep in my thoughts, and don't know what is going on around me. I think this is one of the only times that I allow myself to be creative anymore. I too often feel guilty taking time to daydream -- it isn't productive. I feel more at peace today, though, because of this cleaning.

I think it also helps that my cleaning music tends to be Bright Eyes circa 2002. :)

Sad.

It makes me sad when I think about how quickly time is flying by and how quickly we are aging, yet we have not gotten half of what we wanted. I know we have time, but it is disheartening. I have been jogging lately, which really means jogging for as long as I can and then walking casually for long periods of time while I catch my breath. The neighborhoods near where I live are all very quiet, nice, family-type neighborhoods. Everyone is walking dogs or pushing strollers or tending to gardens in that part of town. It is a constant reminder. While I technically have a stroller to push, not having a baby in it would be very unusual. I have no garden. I have no house. When I think about the adoption process, I feel an unspoken pressure to have more and be more. It may not be a criteria, officially, but I know it is frowned upon to give lovely abandoned children to parents who rent apartments and drive cars with electrical problems and who have no savings to speak of. If I need more, and need to be better, to have a baby given to me, I am nauseated at where to start. I mean, really.  I couldn't see a fertility specialist until after a year of being unsuccessful, and then it was almost a full year until I went through treatment. Without any savings, we're looking at a minimum of two years to put together a down payment for a house. If we go that route, school is out of the question for me. I don't want to go back to school, but I feel like we'd have a better chance of having a baby given to us if at least one of us has a degree. So, if I go the school route, we're looking at four years before we can have a house. That means at least five years before we'd be able to have a child adopted to us, assuming the good folks working for adoption agencies are really looking out for the best interest of the children involved. That's five years if we really start working toward that goal now. Not tomorrow. So, say I fall asleep tonight, and the world spins so fast as it does and suddenly it is next year, and it is all just too late? Then what? Disheartening, isn't it?
I don't want to give up, but I also don't know if I can go a total of seven or more years with the singular goal of trying to have a baby. I don't know if I have the strength. Sad.

Today, at work, the loveliest thing happened. A woman came up to me to tell me that her  3 year old grandson, who was not with her today, had a puppy dog crush on me. I've never met the boy, but he looks for me whenever shopping, and talks about me at his house. I think that was just about the sweetest thing anyone has ever told me.

Toddlers can be so cute sometimes.

North West Refreshment

I went on vacation last week. It was exactly what I think my husband and I both needed. It was beautiful and grounding and I think the rain cleansed a bit of our sadness.

I'm not going to lie. It was a very emotional trip -- even stressful at times. It was really hard seeing all the babies and young children of college friends at the wedding, and seeing their families' joy. Worse than the reminder of my infertility, what made me so emotional was I really didn't want to leave. In 27 years, I've never felt at home anywhere. In Portland, OR, I felt at home. More than ever, I wanted to make a home, nest, and get back to the business of family-making. Alas, there are responsibilities my husband and I each have, including Maggie and Killian, who stayed home this time, and work, of course. We'll get back up there soon enough, I'll just keep telling myself. 

Noteworthy parts of the trip:

   Seeing my parents and brother after almost two years.

   My close friend getting married.

   Bridal Falls at 10 pm, after the wedding, just my hubbs and me in the dark, trying to take photos.

   The gorgeous Japanese Garden in Portland (which literally brought tears to my husbands eyes).

   Food carts!!!!!

   Strip clubs and bike lanes everywhere! (What a combo.)

   Seeing my other close friend, again after almost two years.

   The drive home...(We bought Game of Thrones, the audio book, and finished all 28 disks within two hours of finishing the drive back.)

Without further delay, photos of some of the beauty we got to see:

Late afternoon looking out over my parents' property.
Still California, but just barely.

We got stuck on a bridge waiting for a rock slide to be cleared.
 Great time to get out and take pictures!

It was really bright and I forgot my sunglasses in San Diego.

Entrance to Oaks Reserve at Sellwood park. Sellwood is definitely an
 area we liked a lot, especially because of magical places like this.

The best shot we could get of Bridal Falls, it was so dark.
This was on my camera's slowest shutter speed setting.

The Japanese Garden was truly breathtaking.

There was a modern bonsai exhibit. This one makes me so happy.

This happy, fat robin wasn't bothered by the rain, either!

It took patience and bravery to capture this photo of a bee in an azalea bush.

Animals visited me a lot on this trip, like this charming crow at a food cart yard.

Just a few carts.

I loved all the brightly painted houses near Belmont and Laurelhurst.
This is the food cart parking lot for just one food cart "court".

Mt. Shasta always means we're heading home.

Now that we are settled back home, I'm trying to resettle into my old life here. Work has been exciting, to say the least, but I'm determined not to let that get me down. I have been making more me time, though. I've made it a point to read everyday, which is an activity that always made me feel guilty in the past (there are just so many tasks to do, always), and I've been exercising every day. I've been looking into yoga classes near my  apartment so I can bike to them, as well as trying to convince my husband to go rock climbing at a gym soon. I put on a bit of weight with all the hormones, and I want it gone and to be healthier. I'm also getting a massage. It's been four years. After everything, I think I'm a little entitled. Besides, I'm still secretly crossing my fingers that I miraculously ovulate and conceive one of these days, even after staged attempts failed. Maybe I just need some relaxation. Or maybe I was missing feeling at home. I feel like I just got to drink buckets of water after a long drought. It made me feel whole again. I know a place is just a place, in theory, but in practice, it makes all the difference in the world.

The wall

Doctors always say stress plays a key roll in infertility. Maybe they are right.

Before finding out the results, the first time around, I was excited. I was optimistic. I was hopeful. Not used to the symptoms of a period, I mistook tender breasts and fatigue for good signs.

After the first failure, I was fine at first, then one day I wasn't. I felt hopeless and scared. Really scared. Then I stopped creating. I haven't sewn or knitted in weeks. I started to work on receiving blankets and was horribly nauseated thinking about who I'd give all my things to if I'm unsuccessful in this venture.

After the second failure I lost hope. My optimism was shot, and I literally felt empty. I felt like I was missing something inside my womb, and I knew it wasn't there, as crazy as that sounds.

I was numb for weeks, waiting for the results of that final failure. I cried the day I received news of my second failure. I was sitting in my car alone in my apartment garage after a full day of doctors. After my pregnancy blood draw, I went to get my pap smear, and then I went to my endocrinologist. It was a long day. I knew I wasn't pregnant even though I hadn't yet started my period, but the news still came as a blow. I think that was the hardest I may have cried up to that point in my life. I pulled myself together and called my husband. Then I was numb until after the final IUI. My husband couldn't get out of work for the final insemination, so I was alone.

My final pregnancy test should have been today, but I cancelled it.
My period started Monday evening, and there is no doubt it is a full blown baby-free period.

We're not sure what steps we are ready to take from here. We are going on vacation next week, and will spend time with family and friends and each other, relaxing, destressing, and enjoying each other. When my mourning has ended, we'll meet with my doctor to find out our other options. Can we do another series of ovulation induction down the road, or are we cut off permanently? With PCOS, I'm at risk for cancer if I don't have periods often enough, so they recommend taking birth control to regulate the cycles. Can I alternate taking birth control for a short time with not taking it in hopes of ovulating and becoming pregnant naturally? We don't want to do In Vitro Fertilization, and I already know that's what they will try to push.

Then, of course, there is adoption. Finding agencies will be enough of a challenge, but will at least get us going in a particular direction. We can start working toward specific goals at that point, and prepare ourselves for the let downs and long waits for children through that route.

I'm sad. I'm lonely. I feel like I can talk with lots of people, but none of them actually comprehend the way I feel. It is only made worse by more pregnancies surrounding me. I'm strong and I have an amazing partnership with my husband and a lot of support from family and friends, though, so we'll get through this and we'll start our family. I'm scared of the process, but I'm confident in the end result.

The end of a long week.

I am finally finished with my overnight shifts for the week. There are so many things happening with work that it was nice to have the time, away from the team or guests, to sort things out.

My spotting turned into more than spotting, and I had the blood test for pregnancy this morning, but without even receiving the results, I also had another baseline ultrasound to start this process over. I started Clomid, again, but this time double the dose. Next Friday I go in again, before work, for the follow-up ultrasound that lets us know when I get to shoot up the medicine to make me ovulate.

I'm really tired. I'm glad that I found out I wasn't pregnant yet by starting my period, and not from a phone call. At least this way I had time to process it.

My hubby and I are going to dinner and a movie. I am excited to spend some quality time with him.

Getting closer.

I am working overnight all week and have had a lot of extra time to lose myself in thought. I take my pregnancy test in three days and a few hours and, as usual, I'm starting to worry about things that are out of my control. My doctor called to confirm I had actually ovulated, based on a blood test I took last friday. My breasts have been miserably sore, and I am very hormonal, so I already knew something for sure was happening. I also started cramping a little today, and spotting just the teeny tiniest little bit. Implantation bleeding? That would be great. Beginning of my period? Equally possible. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed.

I have been through my fair share of letdowns the past two years. My husband and I charted my cycles, used ovulation indicator strips for months, all just to realize I don't ovulate. I sprung my first appointment with the fertility specialist on my husband. We've been seeing her almost a year, now. First I had a blood test that took nine vials of blood. Then I had to have a dye test. That was painful, physically and emotionally. I have a uterine anomoly, it turns out, on top of my hypothyroidism and PCOS. The results of the dye test were concerning enough that my doctor had me then have and MRI of my abdomen, to get a better idea of how severe my anomoly was while also checking I had two kidneys. There is a high risk of missing a kidney when your uterus is heart shaped, like mine. There were discussions of surgeries and other scary things of that nature. Luckily the MRI clearly showed two kidneys and cleared the need for surgery, but not how the threat had made me feel. I still remember breaking down in my HR manager's office when I had to let her know I might have to miss work during the Christmas holidays.

Once we finally had everything figured out, and started the process of conception, my husband had to leave town for work.

I'm worried. I know I shouldn't be, but I am. What if this doesn't work? I cried so much today, watching Parenthood, when one of the characters who had been trying to conceive for four months found out she wouldn't be able to get pregnant. I'm praying I don't have to go through much more bad news.