Rosepetal

I just tried to check on Rosepetal and found that the blog is now open only to invited readers. Sadly, I have no way to contact her since the information is no longer available. Rosepetal, I know you visited my blog and even commented from time to time, so, if you read this please know that I would like to be able to access your blog. I completely understand if that is not what you want. I am hoping with all of my heart that your decision to go private with the blog didn't have anything to do with unsupportive comments, as you deserve nothing but the most supportive and loving thoughts.

Updated to add that I saw comments from Rosepetal on Catherine's blog and Laura's blog. I sure was glad to hear that she is ok and hope that she feels up to sharing her blog again someday.

excavating

weekend rituals

just thought I'd mention...

...that things are not as dark and gloomy here as indicated in earlier post.

Somehow I had myself fully convinced and mentally prepared that the sun wouldn't come out again until, say, at least July.

in the middle

So while I was obsessive about tryin’ 2 con.ceive, I found the site p33 on a stick dot com and read pretty much every word. Now I *know* everything I probably never really needed to know, for what it is worth. And today I am questioning what it is worth by and large, because something I read there keeps bubbling up into my consciousness. The woman who created that site makes the claim that she doesn’t believe that mid.dle.schmertz (translated, I believe into “p@in in th3 middle”) actually exists.

Well I am here to say that just because she has never experienced it, does not mean that it doesn’t exist. Today I almost doubled over in pain. P@in in th3 middle, that is. And this is not the first time. Despite my wack cy.cle last month, I’ve been pretty regular since I went off the old pillskys in January. And, sure enough, here I am on dia 15 again. I have to say that it is reassuring.

A friend of mine told me that if I go back on the pillskys that it will mean that those old eggies are preserved for when we want to call on them. Is this true? I plan to go back on them anyway, since it will improve the quality of certain aspects of my life so much. Sorry if that is TMI, but ‘tis the truth.

Sorry that I'm trying to disguise certain words and phrases, it does make my writing sound pretty silly. But I feel so bad when I check my stats and find that poor unsuspecting individuals out there who are seeking information about trying to get themselves knocked-up run across my blog.

rain, rain, rain

It has been raining for the past three days. Torrents. Buckets. Everything is gray. It stopped for a moment, long enough for me to snap some photos, and now it is raining again.

I love the rain. Some of my earliest memories include rain. Sitting in my classrooms as a little girl I would stare out at the rain and daydream. Sometimes it would rain so hard that I couldn't even see anything outside--just the water pouring down the glass. And I love the sounds of the rain as well. I grew up just miles away from the Rain Forest in a town where they joke that it rains 360 days of the year. Even if it is an exaggeration, it still isn't that far from the truth.

Just days ago, though, we had a taste of what summer will eventually bring. It is not uncommon to have a few days of "unseasonalbly warm" weather here in the spring. It comes on fast and catches pretty much everyone by surprise. And just as quickly as it comes on, so does the illusion that it is here to stay. People seem to have amnesia about the fact that this occurs almost every year and they dig out their summer clothes and make plans for BBQs and picnics. Then, sure enough, the rain comes on and everyone laments as though we will NEVER see the sun again.

the color of my hope

There is a particular color that resonates with me. I have contemplated writing about it before but haven't.

Today Niobe described what I believe is this same color and it is very clear that she detests the color.

I understand that. Color is powerful.

To me this color almost glows. It vibrates with new life.

In the early spring the landscape sometimes feels like it is calling to me to wake up.

I painted a wall in my living room this color so that I could live with it all year.

I took a photo of my wall but it doesn't accurately represent it, so this image is as close as I can get.

curiosity

There is something I have been wondering about for a while now, so I am going to go ahead and come out and ask about it. I am wondering how *you* found *me.*

I will start by telling *you* how I found *you*...

Of course there will be some ample back-story, as I am so fond of the back story...

I am an obsessive researcher. When Mr. C told me in September of 2005 that he wanted to start our family, and I let him talk me into it, I immediately headed to the book store and got online. As it all turned out we got pregnant the first month of trying. So either all of that research paid off, or we really didn't need it, it's hard to know for sure. At any rate, that is how I found one of those online places where you can set up a pregnancy calendar and get weekly updates on how the zygote-embryo-fetus-baby is growing and all that. And they also have message boards. I didn't visit my "expecting club" much because I didn't relate to most of what was being talked about, but I checked in on it every now and then to compare my pregnancy experience with others. I threw my 2 cents in every now and then. Like the time this woman was going to opt out of her 20 week ultrasound because she thought she could just save herself some money (she didn't have insurance) by going to the mall and getting one of those 3D ultrasounds so she could "find out if it was a girl or a boy." I very politely explained to her why a level II ultrasound was for a lot more than identifying gender and she seemed very grateful for the information. After we lost William I had the sad task of unsubscribing from all of the online updates. I don't really remember when I stumbled across the message boards that are devoted to Stillbirth/infant loss, but my obsessive researching was a big part of my early grief process as well.

Fast forward several months and I decided to start a blog. The blog was in a round-about way an off-shoot of my time on various message boards, as some mothers include links to their blogs in their signatures. I visited preemie blogs every now and then. As we started to get closer to our agreed-upon time to TTC again I thought that a blog might be a good thing to help me through the process of getting ready to try, trying, a stressful high-risk pregnancy, and beyond.

Move forward another month or so into my blogging when I found *you.* I was reading the preemie message board and there was a woman who I had been checking in on. She was pregnant with twins and had a hole in one of the amniotic sacks that developed fairly early in the second trimester. The hole was apparently in a spot where the two sacks were touching, which made for a slow leak. The doctors told her she would lose both babies if nothing was done. Long story (relatively) short--she couldn't give up on this baby to "spare" the other (there was no guarantee that this wouldn't result in the loss of both babies) and continued to carry both babies until early in the third trimester. She ended up on hospital bedrest and constant monitoring with both babies continuing to grow--but the one baby was much smaller. When she finally did give birth the smaller twin only lived for a few hours, while the other twin was in NICU for a while but was healthy. In her grief this mother turned to the preemie message board and it is there that one of the compassionate women attached a link to msfitzita's blog.

So after I read her blog I started clicking on her links. I would stay up extremely late reading into the archives of blogs, crying and laughing...I was hooked. I had no idea how all of this blog stuff worked. I wondered how people found each other. Now I pretty much understand in a general way how it all works. But I am wondering how each of you found your way to your own blog and to this network of bloggers and yes, specifically how you found me.

This is a good opportunity for lurkers to come out, too, I suppose.

a brighter outlook

I am taking a cue from Niobe and showing you the view from my window. I never blog from work, only from home and most of the time from the chair I was sitting in when I took this picture. Those are even my feet, propped up on the ottoman that you can just barely see at the bottom of the picture.


I love that the living room wall is almost all windows. We never have put curtains up since we enjoy the view day and night. We are pretty certain that our neighbors can't really see in.


And this is part of the view once you step out onto the deck. Nothing spectacular, but it is private and relatively green.

I don't know how to create links within a post, so I will just explain that this is a (sort of) meme and that I encourage anyone else out there to follow my example and post a picture of what you see out of your window.

Update on the smelly situation:
I came home today to find that the drain is once again working as it should. Somehow the house just feels brighter. And now I have used the shower, am running a load of laundry, and am about to run the dishwasher. Am I tempting fate? If I am, then fates be damned.

And an update on the therapist situation:
I called and left a message with the woman I saw last week to tell her that I won't be coming in for the appointment that we scheduled for this week. I did explain why. I also called the therapist that my friend at work recommended and left her a message as well. Hopefully she will get back to me soon, and that things will be better.

The outer world as a reflection of the inner world...

I started writing this all in the comments, but it got so long that I decided it might as well just be a post...

I appreciate so much that I have a place where I can *go* to try to sort through things, and it is so helpful to hear the responses. On the one hand it is just so comforting to know that I am not all alone. And then, of course, it is helpful to hear what you have to say.

I do worry a bit about being so candid about what I am going through here because this is, in reality, a public place. Not because I am afraid that someone I know IRL will read it (I've kept this anonymous enough to avoid that). And I'm not personally concerned about trolls (after I read what Sara wrote recently I did visit Erin's blog and I see now that the trolls have followed Aurelia [sp?] back to her blog...this is such a shame). It is more about loyalty/confidentiality in my most intimate and important relationship. So my darling, if you read this, I hope you will understand.

This all points even more clearly toward my need to find a therapist who I can really talk to.

Julia, thank you for letting me know that you are out there and for your kind thoughts:)

Niobe, I appreciate your suggestion. You are so right that not eating actually does make things worse. To answer your question, Mr. C does have a clear sense of what the problem is--where it stems from. This is a good thing, I suppose...but it goes deep. No easy quick-fix.

Sara, I hope the same thing that you do. He told me that he is really trying to be open with me and that he has been reluctant to say things because the last thing in the world he wants is to see me feeling hurt. But I think that his holding things back adds to that feeling of pretending...so it is important for him to say them, even if it does make me feel hurt.

Brenda, thank you as well for letting me know you are there. I hope right along with you that things will return to *normal* in not too terribly long. As the title of the post you responded to suggests, I do want so badly to be hopeful.
____________________________________________________

What I had originally intended to post, and the reason for the title above:

The weekend is supposed to be a respite from the busy work week which is always filled with so many things we have-to-do.

We kicked our weekend off with a heavy talk on Friday night. And then Saturday morning came (see previous post). But we were doing our best to be chipper and enjoy the Saturday morning rituals of good coffee and hanging out in our jam jams. Then I decided to enjoy a long, hot shower. As I was winding down my shower I heard Mr. C's voice, telling me that I needed to turn the water off.

I will try to be brief and not go too far into detail about the hows and whys of the situation. The main drainage pipe for the house backed-up and water/sewage made it's way into the basement. We spent the rest of the day yesterday and a great deal of today trying to take care of it ourselves. Tomorrow the professionals come in to fix the problem. Fortunately, the horrid smell that was our constant companion yesterday had gone by this morning (yes, the sewage smell, but also a terrible sulfur smell from the chemicals that we used in our failed attempts to clear the drain). It wasn't too long into the whole ordeal that it occurred to me that our "outer world" was reflecting what was going on for us internally. But I kept it to myself. As we were winding down the evening, though, Mr. C shared with me that he had had the same thought.

It is no fun, dealing with shit that you would rather ignore. But some shit you just cannot ignore.

looking for the light

"Is there a difference between wanting to die and not wanting to live?"

I read this question somewhere this morning and it stuck in my head. There certainly is a difference between wanting to kill yourself and just wishing that somehow this could all just fade away.

No, this isn't some cry for help. But I am being honest and I need to express this and somehow writing it in a journal just doesn't help me anymore. And, most certainly, allowing these thoughts and feelings to swim around inside of me is not only not helping me, I believe it is making things worse.

Right now I am forcing myself to eat something (I am one of those people who stops eating when I am in turmoil, which only makes matters worse because I am hypoglycemic) because what I would really like to do, and have been attempting to do all morning, is just disconnect. Except that I cannot do it--instead of going numb I just feel more pain. My mind circles and circles into places it really shouldn't go.

Yes, the experience with that woman (she really shouldn't be called a therapist) left me reeling, and I suppose the way I am feeling now is in part due to the low places that that experience took me to. But I am not where I am now because I am filled with worry about my fertility. I have actually found some clarity about that through this experience. I am feeling able to let go of my attachment to a timeline of when we will try again. As I have said before, Mr. C's well being--and the strength of our marriage--is far more important. If that means that we aren't ready to try again for quite a long time then that is what is best. If, however, that also means that my fertility becomes an issue then we will have to deal with that situation if/when we come to it. While I deeply desire to have a child of my own someday I am acutely aware that no child will ever be William, and no child will ever fill the place that he has left. I know with all of my heart that I can love a child as my own even if he/she were birthed by someone else.

What I am feeling stems from a sense of helplessness. Despite the intense pain I was experiencing when I was deeply grieving I always felt like I was in control. Even when I was "out of control," I was still the one who was there--and there was a freedom and sense of power to that. I'm not sure if that makes sense. What I mean to say is that I allowed myself to experience all that grief brought up for me. I placed no limits or *shoulds* upon myself. I knew/believed that grieving was (is) not linear and that it was (is) deeply personal and defies generalizations. But this is so different. I have no real power to help Mr. C through what he is going through, and the road may be very long. At the same time, I feel very anxious that I might say or do the *wrong* things...and make it all worse.

I have this strong sense of not being able to remember what it was like when everything was *OK.* That brings me such pain. I search my mind, my memory, to try to recall--how did we behave? What did we do? When was it that things changed? He talks of feeling like he has lost a part of himself, that he has been *acting* the part of the perfect son/husband/manager/etc. and that the *real* him was lost somewhere along the way. I have known him for 12 years and I believe that I do know the *real* him and that he is a complex, multifaceted person and that all of his qualities are part of who he *really* is. But what I see and think isn't at issue here. I believe I do understand what he is going through and that I have been aware of it since we were dating. To use psychological terms I believe that it is a struggle between the id and the super-ego. I don't mean to over-simplify, though, because added on top of it all has been the trauma of living through a battle with cancer and the loss of his first child.

It is good that he is actively working through things and while it is hard (understatement) for me to hear that he feels that he has been *acting* with me (in addition to other aspects of his life) it is important that he is able to express this. It is so hard to separate my own fears and insecurities though. While I love him deeply and want more than anything to be supportive of him it is bringing up my own issues. Which is why I will continue to look for a suitable therapist. A friend at work gave me the name of a woman she has seen for a few years and recommends highly. I trust this friend and we had a candid conversation about what happened with the incompetent woman on Tuesday so she knows where my need is coming from.

For now I will do my best to try to focus on the here-and-now, and the aspects of my life that I actually can control. I don't mean to be trite.

what the hell was that?

I saw the therapist for the first time today and now I am a total mess.

I mean that I am crying harder than I have in months and feeling desperate and virtually hopeless.

I would call someone, but there is no one who could say anything to console me. Because what I want to hear is:
#1 Mr. C and I are going to be OK
#2 We will eventually have a living child

And no one has a crystal ball to tell me that everything is going to eventually be OK.

The truth is that I have been feeling fine about waiting. The urgency to try again has subsided and my concerns about Mr. C and his well being are far more important. And my concerns about him have even lessened slightly in the last week or so as well.

Until today. That woman just fucked me up.

In under an hour she managed to turn me into this anxious mess I am right now. Sure, I take responsibility for the part I have played in allowing myself to get to this point. But, as Mr. C said a few minutes ago, she didn't give me the care I was needing. He said that it was like going to the podiatrist and having him examine your ass the whole time.

I suppose I should try to relay what happened, to give this all some context.

Rather than going blow-by-blow, which I started to do, I will try to summarize. She asked some basic questions to start off but kept leading the conversation to my age and the importance of not delaying TTC. I didn't bring this concern up, she did. And while she asked me questions like how I dealt with my grief, if I had experienced any spiritual conflict, etc., she returned to the issue of my fertility over and over. She talked about my "ovarian reserves" and told me stories of other patients of hers (mostly sad stories of eggs dried up). She implored me to talk to Mr. C about not delaying TTC any longer. It didn't seem to be important to her that he is in therapy himself and that he had called a halt to TTC because he is trying to work through some serious issues himself. Yet there I was, sitting in her office, dissolving.

When I got home I told him that the therapist wanted me to talk to him about something, but that I was reluctant. He drew it out of me. Then he told me under no uncertain terms that he is "barely holding on by a thread" and that adding a child to our lives right now could make it snap. He also pointed out to me that she is not a medical doctor and she did not do an examination or anything so she has no idea of my fertility or lack thereof (hence the analogy above). We talked about it all for a while, then he had to leave to run an errand. That is when I fell apart. And here I am, now.

So now do I look for another therapist?

Do I schedule an appointment with my OB to have a test done (what did the therapist call it, FSH?) to get an idea of my "ovarian reserves"?

How do I get back to a place where things feel at least relatively OK again?

cautiously updating

My sister Lara has a fear of openly celebrating when things are going well, especially when they are still developing. Since we share a close bond, I usually can tell what is up with her and don't have to force her to say anything *out loud* out of respect for her fear of some sort of jinx.

I've never shared this fear, I'm one of those people who jumps right into the deep end of the pool (although only figuratively, since I cannot actually swim). However, I'm starting to understand where Lara is coming from.

I want to update about how things are going around here but only feel comfortable doing so in a rather vague way. It is silly, though, since regardless of how I go about it the point is still essentially the same.

Even still, I'll do what feels comfortable to me now and say that things have improved and are continuing to do so. Things aren't back to *normal* although whatever that ever was has been gone for 15 months and will never return. At any rate, I no longer feel like I'm constantly putting my life partner under a microscope. And there no longer feels like there is a giant distance between us.

And as far as my cycle goes--I'll update that, too, since I put it out there. It appears that AF will show soon. It may take a few days to actually start, as it often does (TMI once more, but since I have opened up this topic I guess I will just go with it) because I have a r3trov3rt3d ut3rus. Since this cycle has been wack (perhaps it has indeed been two wack cycles, if the day 12 spotting was the start of a new cycle?) I haven't tracked things well at all. I do know that I did have ovulation symptoms at some point. I'm not sure how long ago it was, so I don't know if my lut3al phase was long enough. But, at any rate, it appears that things are moving forward so I plan to start fresh, as it were, and not obsess about irregularity unless I have another wacked cycle. I have some OPKs in the cupboard and I will monitor things on my calendar so that I have the information needed if I do need to chat with my OB about things. I told Mr. C what was up the other day and he was concerned and did encourage me to see my OB. He also said that he was pretty certain that I was about to start my period, though. He is often more in-tune with my body than I am.

pathetic me

I'm trying not to get worked-up over this, and really am a bit embarrassed that I am even posting about it, but my cycle is wack.

What in the hell is going on?

So things were weird at around day 12 when I had terrible cramping and bleeding. The bleeding slowed/stopped the next day. I took to heart the comments I received about this most likely being due to ovulation and was able to relax about things.

But now here I am 20 days later and no period. The only symptom that it might be on the way is (sorry for this) super sore nips (I believe this is due to progesterone...which is in-line with the luteal phase).

Of course this is the way my messed-up head is processing things: I had three *normal* cycles after going off the pill in January. Now my cycles are all F-ed up and I'm probably not ovulating...I probably will never ovulate again and the window of opportunity is closed and whenever Mr. C decides he is ready (if ever) it won't even be an option. No chance for a live baby.

I wish that I could say that getting that out has made me feel better.

Oh, get this: the therapist that I tried to set up an appointment with a while back didn't have any openings, so she referred me to a colleague of hers who she said she thought might be a good fit for me because she sees lots of women who are dealing with infertility. I did make it clear to her that William died because of preterm labor and that he was quite healthy, just too small to survive...AND that while it was our first pregnancy, we did get pregnant the first month that we tried. Nontheless, she encouraged me to contact this colleague of hers. I did and I will see her for the first time on Tuesday. I just hope it doesn't end up that therapist #1 has jinxed me or something.

OK, now I am just being stupid. Sorry.