Commencing to Begin to Get Ready

The holidays came and went. The tree came down and all the other Christmas trappings with it (such a lie, its all piled up in the library still waiting to be put in bins and taken to the basement). My mid-winter malaise has set in, so we may as well address the next step in child procurement: adoption.

My best friend got me a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle for Christmas (Doctor Who themed, of course!). So I scattered the pieces on our giant dining room table and set up Video 1 of the Adoption Academy for M to watch, listen to, whatever. He paid the most attention to the discussion about expenses, which I suppose makes sense. He asked me exactly one question throughout (What age range are you considering? Answer: infant only) and that was about it. At least I got him to watch it. And we got, like, 40 pieces of this stupid puzzle put together. I really suck at puzzles, but this was a sweet gift from my friend so I'm going to finish it, dammit!

Hopefully we will watch the second video sometime soon. Right now I feel like, even if we did decide to pursue adoption, I wouldn't want to get the ball rolling for another year or so. I'm enjoying not being immersed in a world of high-strung anticipation and horrible, crushing disappointments. My family and I are still recovering from the Series of Unfortunate Events that was 2013. In one year, my mother lost the ability to walk, M and I lost out on the dream of biological children, my family lost my grandmother, I lost my job (but got a new one, admittedly), and the cherry on the sundae was having to put down one of my mom's dogs right after Christmas (he was a ripe 16.5 years old, though). I don't feel like volunteering for further let-downs any time soon.

I want to go into the next chapter of my life (be it adoption or child-free) with hopeful determination, not with teeth gritted and loins girded for certain doom. I know for sure I'm not in that good mind set yet, so we will continue to wait and educate ourselves and prayerfully consider what the hell we are meant to be doing with our lives.

Annual Reminder That My GYN is Also an OB...

Bellies, bellies everywhere, but not a one is me.

"congratulations! See you in a few weeks"

"I'm here for my ultrasound"

"Question 10.) How many times have you been pregnant?"

Stab, stab, stab.

"I saw the note from Dr. B about the next step for you and then a few weeks later they said you were taking a break indefinitely."

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I don't have to prove to anyone that I've tried hard enough. That I've earned the right to say stop. I know that. But questions often make me feel like that's exactly what I have to do. I have to sit through another doctor's schpeal about how IVF is definitely an option. Then try to make them understand that I have not made my choice lightly, but no, I'm not going to put myself through that - I don't care what you have to say.

I could have said we've moved on to considering adoption, but I didn't. Don't know why. I guess I didn't think it would help shut down the questions. Or would lead other questions I'm even less prepared to answer.

It doesn't help that last night I dreamed I thought I was pregnant and then remembered that is stupidly impossible because I'm on birth control. Like someone can forget that.

If I can just survive my 30's, after that no one will ask "When are you having kids" and other stupid questions of the like. I won't stick out quite so much. If I can just get through the next decade...

From the Mouths of Babes

Yesterday was one of those rare days where you just *know* how blessed you are in every little thing that happens. My mom visited my house for the first time since her spinal cord injury. Dad bought a portable ramp that will work at both my house and my sister's. This was a *big* BIG deal. Mom was so happy, she cried when they pulled into the driveway. I was able to show her my very first veggie garden in the back yard and even more importantly, she got to see her dog Ralph for the first time since she went to the hospital. If she never walks again, Ralph will live out his life at my house, so I'm very happy she can at least visit him now. He was beside himself with squirming happiness at seeing his mommy again.

My sister and her family came down as well. They haven't been to my house since winter either (we live about 40 minutes down the highway from the rest of my family and with the Baby Bear it is difficult to plan a dinner at my house). I was so excited for my older nephew, A, to come back here because the weather was gorgeous and I wanted he and I to spend time together in my ginormous yard.

So after everyone settled in and dinner was prepped, A and I trouped out to my apple trees which have begun littering the grass with under-developed apples. The squirrels and other neighborhood rodents have been having a field day and I'm worried the dog will be stupid enough to eat one and choke because they are very small. I knew A was stoked about the apple trees, so I figured he would have fun helping me gather up the fallen fruit and climbing up the trees looking for a decent specimen to pick and taste.

We spent an awesome half hour rummaging through the grass and chatting about all kinds of things. At one point, he asked me if M and I had names picked out for any kids we have. I told him we definitely have the middle names settled, but first names are still somewhat undecided (but let's be serious, any girl baby I manage to have in whatever way *will* be named Alice Clara Belle). We talked about names for a while and then A suddenly said, "Really, you can name your baby whatever you want, I'll just be so excited to have a cousin!" He went on about how much fun it would be to have a cousin living close enough to see regularly, visiting our house more often, Bradley having someone to play with. You'll be proud to know I did not cry, guys - I didn't even well up, I'm not sure how I managed that. And as if this little scene couldn't get any more break-my-heart-adorable, A said "It would even be great if you and Uncle M adopt! Even if you adopted a kid older than me."

I've been asking God to please guide me and help me to know what my new journey should be. If this isn't some kind of sign or gentle nudge, I don't know what is.

The Final Countdown

And now this will be stuck in your head for the rest of the day - you're welcome. (Any Arrested Development viewers in the audience? ...Bueller?)

Well sports fans, we're in the home stretch. This is my last cycle on break and then we try one more IUI. After that I get to crawl into my cocoon for however long I feel like and emerge as a beautiful pursuing-adoption-butterfly or a living-child-free-without-regrets-butterfly. Hmm, that metaphor kind of got away from me...

Anyway - I had AF back on like the 5th or something, so let's call that CD1. That puts me at CD11 today. My non-medicated cycles are always weak and wimpy and therefore peppered with lots of random spotting. Generally, I start spotting after ovulation right up to AF which tapers off into spotting for a few days. So I pretty much spot for 3 weeks in a row and then get a week off. Its *super* fun, lemmetellya. I had *finally* stopped spotting after AF back on the 11th-ish only to find this morning that it has started back up. Weak. Ass. Ovaries. ::sigh::

I am trying very hard to not start the negative thinking about my last medicated cycle. I really do want this to be as smooth and emotionless as possible. This cycle is a means of closure and the opening of all the other possibilities for my life. I can get my body back and start to feel more like ME, not me-with-PCOS-and-IF.

I can't tell you how much I appreciate the responses on my last two posts. They have really *really* helped me work through some of the emotional skeletons in my closet. I have a lot of fears and anxieties regarding choosing one of the paths less traveled in life (both adopting and living child-free) and it is a big relief to be able to put those doubts into words in a safe space where I am supported. Most people don't have to think this much about where their life is going or have to deliberately make such HUGE decisions. Infertility has made me so much better at using my critical thinking skills on my own life and making (hopefully) responsible choices.

After August, I don't really know what will happen with this space. I know I will never stop blogging since I have journaled from age 12. And, probably, I will continue to talk about PCOS and IF sometimes - they never really stop having an impact on a person's life. But I think, also, I will blog about my ongoing search for what's next. It might be a year or more before I make a firm decision to move forward into one of the other "rooms" of the Stirrup Queens' blogroll. In the mean time, I'll just be kicking around in the hallway, saying hi to those who pass by. I am praying for peace in my heart with whatever happens from now on. Praying for guidance to where I am meant to go. And praying for the wisdom to recognize the signs that will lead me there.

Thoughts on Living Child Free (Not By Choice)

I don't even know where to start with this one.

Obviously living Child-Free is an option and its one I have brought up a could of times here. I'm grateful, I guess, that M and I are the sort of people who *can* see ourselves living a future without children and being okay, even though that's not the way we had envisioned our lives going.

It is an attractive end to this miserable IF road because I know that when I'm not in the thick of pursuing that one thing that I simply cannot have, I'm generally a very happy person. I am able to recognize and be thankful for that which I *can* and do have. I have an amazing husband who loves me for some crazy reason even through the times when *I* don't love me. I have an insane, but loving family who I am close to, including two nephews who are the lights of my life. And I live close enough to them to be a permanent part of their lives. M and I have jobs that pay well, with good benefits, and without children we would be able to afford to travel and engage more fully in charitable endeavors and tons of other cool things.

I have no doe-eyed fantasy about how perfect and delightful parenting is. I know that having children means sleepless nights, fights with your spouse, innumerable compromises, putting other plans and goals on the back burner for several years, etc. And we are all willing to make those sacrifices for the honor of raising up decent little human beings. I also realize that a childless life frees you up from many of those stresses and leaves open many other opportunities for you to pursue. See, look at that - I'm being all "glass half full" and shit.

And then this weird guilty feeling swoops around me and cloaks me in its negativity. I feel like...if I see positive things about living child-free, if the thought of that life doesn't make me sob with loss...there must be something wrong with me. I'm really *not* supposed to be a mother because a woman who is supposed to be a mother would doggedly pursue that goal until she reached it. Not lamely give up because "boo hoo, this is *hard* and if I stop now, I can still afford to visit Europe someday."

Its like that terrible conversation we have all been trapped up in at least once where some "helpful" acquaintance tries to make you feel better about your broken lady-parts by cheerfully encouraging "well, think of it this way: you get to sleep in on weekends and go out alone with your husband whenever you want, or take a last minute trip without having to consider any children!" And you're all like "...yaaay...that totally makes up for all my hopes and dreams being cruelly crushed under the heel of reality month after month...". Aren't I just spouting those same platitudes to myself? Shouldn't it make me angry, not hopeful, about the future? I mean, I can't actually be *that* well adjusted, please! A quick glance at the history of this blog proves I'm relatively unstable. So I judge myself for being comforted by these same ideas that, given by an outsider, would enrage me.

I tell myself I must unfit to be a parent because I can see life another way. And that's kind of sick and twisted to. Its beyond stupid to say "I don't deserve to be a mother because I won't move heaven and earth to achieve it" because MOST WOMEN DON'T HAVE TO. They have the luxury of it just "happening" for them, they didn't make any kind of extraordinary pursuit - it *fell* into their fertile. fucking. uterus. And all of these feelings are cobbled together inside of me, battling it out. Its rather nerve wracking, really.

Also, what if we *do* decide to live child-free and then in ten years I find myself regretting that decision so much that I just want to die?? What if my husband is taken from me by illness or accident and I have *nothing* left for the rest of my life because I don't have kids? Or what if we do live to be old but then there is no one to take care of us? Who takes care of the elderly that don't have children? Is it super depressing? And its not like you can ask someone that - "Hey Aunt Mary, I'm very sorry about Uncle Jim's death. Now that you're all alone, do you wish you had had children who could take care of you?" Oh yeah, that's *real* tactful and sensitive...

You might think, since I have so many worries and concerns, that this is not the right path for me - that it sounds like we should keep trying. Because at least then, if it doesn't work, we would definitively know that not having children was not within our power to change, no matter what. Unfortunately, short of some test coming back and saying "CurlySue, you have no eggs" or "M, you have no sperm and you never will", there will ALWAYS be a *chance*, however small, that we could have a baby. And I'm not going to live the next 8-10 years of my life that way, until advanced maternal age reduces my already small chance into basically nothing. I will NOT do that to myself or my husband. Which leaves me no choice but to create my own cut off point.

Cue continued self-judgement, now about the criteria used to choose the cut off point. I can't win.

Why

That's the question, isn't it? We all ask it. All the time. About everything that relates to our struggles to conceive.

Why us? Why this? Why didn't that treatment work? Why am I not pregnant? Why why WHY??

And there are rarely answers... Except for this time.

I know why I didn't get pregnant last month, and possibly any of the other months I have tried for the past 2 years. I know why I haven't been blessed and burdened with the responsibility of a tiny human who relies heavily on my time and attention.

Last Monday (April Fools Day in the States, how fitting), my Mom lost the ability to use her legs, maybe forever. She got up for the day, like any other day, and soon after experienced a partial infarction of her spinal cord. A stroke in the spinal cord some doctors say.

There was no reason for this. My mother is not at risk for a stroke of any kind. She is a very healthy 56 year old who's only serious condition is psoriatic arthritis. The doctors (there are so many of them now) stare at her, baffled. It is as though God reach down through the clouds and touched her back.

I can't really describe the past week. It has been at times hopeful, and at times, horrifying. Sometimes it feels like nothing will ever be okay again. And sometimes I believe that miracles are possible, and she may yet walk again. She is alive, that's something. She didn't break anything when her legs gave out, that's something too.

Thank God I'm not pregnant.

There, I said it.

I was able to be fully there for my mom and dad during one of the scariest weeks of their lives. I was in a unique position to drop everything and just be available for anything at any time. That has meant the world to me. My sister can't do it, she has Bear and A to look after. And we all have to pitch in to help my brother adjust because his Asperger's makes events like this 10 times as scary for him. I filled a role that only I could and only because I don't have any kids and I'm not pregnant.

I never thought I would be thankful for NOT being pregnant, but I know better now.

They are still trying to figure out how all this happened. My mom still has a lot of pain and the doctors are attempting to manage it in a way that lets her lead a normal life. And no one knows how much of her functions she will regain. She moved to an inpatient rehab center where she will learn the tricks to living as a paraplegic. We continue to pray that it is God's will she walk again.

Until things settle down, until I know Mom will be okay, until I know if she can live at home or if my parents will have to buy a one story house, I'm taking another treatment break. I was already starting to come to terms with a child-free life, so I haven't given it a second thought. It seemed obvious and natural. The family I *have* will always come before the family that *may be*. There are so many life lessons I am learning from this horrible experience. And I am bemused at the way I have received an answer to my so often sobbed question: Why?

Digging Deep

I have read, and I have probably even said, that going through fertility treatments takes great strength. I believe that. And yet, I don't feel strong at all. I feel incredibly weak and broken. If I am whole, I am littered with cracks and chinks - so very fragile.

Today I feel normal, like myself, for the first time in 2 weeks. Last night, while I cried on M's shoulder, I told him he is enough for me. I don't *have* to have children. I *want* to have children. He said that I am all he ever wanted. I said I am willing to do another IUI in May and hope that I won't have the same extreme reaction to the meds. If I don't become a basket case at the end of that cycle, I can go through with the third and final IUI. If I *do* have a very strong reaction to the meds again, I am done. There is no point putting myself through the emotional meat-grinder ad infinitum when this clearly isn't working.

Yesterday I spent a lot of time exploring child free not by choice blogs. The room no one wants to enter on the Stirrup Queens' Blogroll. Every Infertile's worst nightmare. Their blogs are proof to me that there is life after treatment cessation, and it does not have to be full of sorrow over what might have been and crying over daily reminders of what you don't have. I also learned something important from their stories. By the time they finally stopped treatments, most of them were so emotionally exhausted, so completely heartbroken by their struggles, that they could not even consider other avenues of having children. They didn't have it left in them to go through the process of adoption even if they wanted to because of how much infertility treatments had scarred them. Others had kept at treatments into their 40's and were "too old for consideration" by many adoption agencies (public adoptions aren't as strict, but its very hard to adopt an infant that way).

Not that I am judging their (or anyone's) choices, but I don't want to be that. I don't want to keep at this until I am a beaten, bloody pulp, completely unrecognizable even to myself. That's not how I would choose to end it. I think IVF would do that to me. IUI is already practically doing that to me. I want to say enough is enough while I still have years left to grieve my loss, think about pursuing adoption, and enough of my heart and mind still in tact to carry me through the difficult filing process if that's what we choose to do. I'm not willing to let the pursuit of children destroy me and my relationships with other people. I can make peace with my life without having to go that far.

I know that medicated cycling makes me crazy. I also know that when I am *not* cycling, I am normal. I can see babies, mothers, pregnant women, and NOT want to hang myself. Yes it hurts, but it DOES NOT ruin my day. And I can keep in mind all of the wonderful things I *do* have, and the experiences that are possible in a future without children.

So I am digging deep, finding the strength to get back on the hormone roller coaster at least one more time. I can see the exit in the distance, and that definitely helps for now.