Au revoir, originally written February 21st, 2014.

See the disclaimer here.

February 21, 2014

So, all of those things the psychic said that were too sensitive in nature that I was unwilling to share earlier. Well, for your viewing pleasure.. here they are!

She said again that she saw us having 2-3 children. It was the first question I asked, eager to confirm if she still saw kids in our future. Later in the conversation, she said she saw 2 and that 3 would be a strain (just like she did over a year and a half ago!).

I'm supposed to give up pulling out clothing from the washer. Wet towels etc. NOT good for my uterus. She said, starting Feb. 27th (such a funny an exact date!), hubs is supposed to start doing all of the laundry. He was THRILLED to hear that one!

No exercising. Not even the treadmill, because according to Valerie, I'm at such a high risk of miscarrying. I promptly cancelled my gym membership yesterday.

She said to prop my rear end on a pillow after the good deed, and wait 15 minutes. I stupidly have been laying on my stomach thinking it would help with the whole forward tilted uterus bit. But oh no. I got quite the scolding from Valerie on that one. Everything falls out that way! HAHAHA (Ladies, you can appreciate that sentiment!)

I'm supposed to ask my doctor about acid reflux, because I'm still suffering from it and she said it's not good for the sperm. And she said to drink a glass of milk as soon as I feel it coming on.

She mentioned my miscarriage was a baby girl, which is what she told me last time I spoke to her too. Two girls maybe? But she mentioned that my father in law is in heaven holding them and that not all babies are meant to come down here. Some go back to heaven.

Hubby will apparently make a very good father. No surprise there!

At first she said that I would be pregnant again on or before August. Later in the conversation (much to my glee) she said that April looks like a very strong month. I vote for April!

She agreed that IUI was a good idea and mentioned that I have a very good, determined doctor.
Stressed again, no heavy lifting! And she said to meditate by picturing my belly getting bigger and bigger. Positive thinking! And to leave the door open to the room I've picked out for the nursery in our house. Both things I already do.. which is quite impressive she picked up on!

When I tried asking her more about our move (to a supposedly warmer area), she said that we'll chat about that later, after we have a child. That kind of makes me think we'll have the baby in Cincinnati, yes? That makes me VERY happy indeed :)

And then she told me to stop blogging. That a blog full of dead babies in NOT channeling positive energy into my life. She was quite adamant about this one. And I guess, in hindsight, it kind of makes sense. As much as this forum has been a great tool to vent, to document and to dissect, it also represents my struggle, the long road we've had to travel, and some very painful memories, all piled up into one neat place. So, unfortunately I think this is goodbye. For now. I still hope to one day reveal all of these innermost thoughts and experiences of mine to the world. But hopefully the next baby post I write will include a picture of our adorable, giggly, pudgy, healthy baby.
Au revoir everyone!

An emotional update, originally written February 17th, 2014.

See the disclaimer here.

Monday February 17, 2014

Sometimes I cringe writing the date. There was a time when I thought the year wouldn't be necessary, but alas, here we 2014.

So, a gut check on how things have been going. I'd say, overall, it's going pretty well all things considered. I am, of course, thinking about the possibility of being pregnant about every 2 minutes seconds. I have over analyzed the fact that my face feels drier this month and my boobs haven't sprouted to herculean sizes yet like they usually do this close to the start of my period. Or the slight bouts of anxiety I've had at night. All potentially good signs. Maybe.

I've never had typical pregnancy signs in the past that cued me into the possibility of being pregnant. The first time around, way back when I was a newbie, it was the lack of PMS symptoms that made me test the night before my period was due. It was such a "Huh. That's weird. I don't even feel like I'm about to start!" moment. I bought a test and didn't even wait until morning. Just took it right then and there in the middle of the afternoon after drinking a fair amount of water not that much earlier. And guess what? It didn't matter. That test was glaringly, surprisingly, positive. The only pregnancy signs I started to notice came a week or so later. Feeling nauseous (but never actually having to go through with the act), dandruff and dry skin, heavy and hot sleep, nightmares and being uncomfortable in my regular bed.

The second time around, as I'm sure you've read by now, was a little more comical. There was dropping the test and the faint positive. But even before that, I had noticed the dandruff again. I had one night where I woke up in the middle of the night with heart pounding and the worst anxiety I've felt in a very, very long time. The following day, I went to a football game and drank some wine. The hangover was awfullllll and didn't match at all with the quantity of consumption. I remember getting excited. I was feeling a little off. This was a good sign. Next, my boobs went from completely normal to extremely painful overnight and I started getting headaches and having heartburn. And then the positive. Before the miscarriage, the only clue I had that it was coming were some slight cramps I felt after taking a 2.5 mile walk. A week later, I woke up one morning to my face slick with oil, like I usually experience the week before my period. A few days later, it was an obvious no go.

I'm very proud of the fact that this month I've successfully avoided taking my temperature. I officially know, only down to a window of 4 days, that I ovulated because of a morning temperature I took last Monday. So I've survived a whole week. I'm closing in on the finish line. It's within arm's reach.

My chat with Valerie the psychic is happening tomorrow night. Originally, I anticipated wanting to take a test tomorrow morning so I would know before our conversation what the result of my IUI was this month. What's the point in asking a whole bunch of questions about getting pregnant if I already am? Or, conversely, if I don't take the test, will I be crushed when I read into her answers about getting pregnant in the future and surmise that it didn't happen this month. Would I rather a test tell me that I'm not pregnant or a psychic?

Ultimately, I've decided not to test. I know myself well enough to know that I won't trust the results even if I do. There's no way I can say with certainty how many days past ovulation I am, other than to assume the latest possible scenario. That would mean I would only be 8dpo today and testing at 9dpo is pretty unreliable. In a desperate attempt to hold on to hope, I would likely just convince myself a test later in the week would give me the result I want to see. So basically, I might as well save my money.

Well actually, if you must know, the money has already been spent. There's a three pack of tests sitting in my bathroom as we speak. I don't possess that much control. Ha.

So, the question then becomes, how long will I be able to hold out? I've been feeling an uncharacteristic urge to hold off as long as possible. I kind of like this hope thing. Why rush to dash all of my dreams? Is it sad that I've begun to analyze which day I will be able to handle the disappointment best?

If I test Friday and it's negative, it's at least still Friday. I can indulge my feelings of sadness in a bottle of wine guilt free.

But if I test Thursday and it's positive, that gives me enough time to call the pharmacy and pick up my prescriptions by Friday. As soon as I find out I'm pregnant, I have to start daily injections of a blood thinner and progesterone to try and avoid another miscarriage. If I have to wait, I know there will be a lot of anxiety that I'm putting everything at risk.

The getting pregnant part is only half the battle after all. The real batter starts once I see those two lines.

If this post reads as negative, know that in actuality I'm feeling pretty positive about everything. Well, tentatively positive. I still feel stupid writing a post like this knowing that there's a very good chance that I'm not pregnant. Let's hope that doesn't happen.

Closeted fantasies, originally written February 12th, 2014.

See the disclaimer here.

February 12, 2014

ROSYRILLI.COM Closeted fantasies

I have a secret stash. I'm pretty positive I'm not the only one either. Should you find yourself in a similar situation as I (aka, not "falling pregnant" overnight), I highly suggest the closeted baby room. Literally, the baby room in a closet. In my defense, I've been pregnant twice now, brief stints that they were, and most purchases were made in a flurry during those times. Most.

I may have mentioned it before (who can keep track with all of these baby posts piling up in hiding for so long!?), but when I was young, I remember wanting to start a baby bin. I thought it would be brilliant to start stockpiling clothing, pacifiers, baby bottles etc. so that one day, when motherhood was upon me, I would be fully prepared. Basically, I was an aspiring hoarder. Luckily, those thoughts stayed swirling in my mind and no purchases were ever made. BPA free didn't even exist back then, right?

So that brings me to today. Or yesterday, to be more specific. I found myself uncharacteristically nonchalant about this whole baby making business. I know my hormones enough to realize that such an easy, breezy blah feeling is only a short hop, skip and jump away from feeling very, very low. Blame it on the progesterone. It gets me every month so that by the time Auntie arrives, I'm as Negative Nancy as it gets.

In an attempt to combat the blues, I sprung for this little gem:

ROSYRILLI.COM Closeted fantasies
Serena & Lily, Hanna Anderson Chevron Bodysuit in Sprout found HERE.

I know. I know. Am I just torturing myself more? Will this just depress me further if our IUI was unsuccessful? I'm not sure. Probably. But for right now, I still want to grasp that little bit of excitement that comes with the experience of trying something new. Maybe THIS will finally be the answer. And as I told a friend yesterday, whether it's this month or some random month two years from now, I know in my heart of hearts that it'll happen. I will make usage of this colorful onesie!

And then there was one, originally written February 7th, 2014.

See the disclaimer here.

February 7, 2014

My 12 day ultrasound went down (pun intended) two days ago. It was a wreck of a morning which involved little sleep (for unrelated reasons), lots of snow and ice on the ground, and a rapidly increasing sense that I was going to be awfully late for the appointment... which to my great surprise I was not. The office was quiet, probably from cancellations, but I was happy enough to be there and to see, once and for all, what my ovaries have been up to these past two weeks.

My left ovary came out the winner, with one follicle measuring 22mm, whatever that means. I had two other follicles, one on each ovary, measuring 10 and 13 or some such numbers, inconsequential from what I was told. So there you have it. One strong winner. Although, with the meds I was on, I think my doctor was hoping to see more contenders. Next month, should we have to cross that bridge (fingers crossed, we do not), he's upping my dosage from days 3-7 to 3-9 to see if I respond better. All it takes is one good egg, just one!, so I decided to run with it. And so, the decision to move forward with the IUI was born.

Which brings me to this morning. I have officially, medically, been inseminated!!! They went ahead and put those little swimmers exactly where they need to be and, from what I was told, hubs did good on his portion of the deal and provided a very pretty specimen. So, we're off to the races folks. I didn't take the trigger shot, per my doctor's suggestion. I'm not sure if it had to do with me only having one egg or the fact that ovulation has never really (thankfully) been my issue. Regardless, it makes it a little hard to pinpoint exactly when ovulation is going to occur. I'm putting faith right where it belongs though and trying to keep my little googling fingers at bay from researching all kinds of questions (like how long sperm will live after IUI or whether there are instances of ovulation being prolonged because of the meds I'm on). I'm also following doctor's orders not to use any ovulation predictor kits and to discontinue taking my temperature. I officially have no idea when I'm going to ovulate and I officially am kind of happy about it. I know it would just lead me to over analyze and stress and pluck out perfectly good hairs from my head (kidding about that last one). Besides, knowing doesn't do anything. It won't change the outcome.

And regardless, I plan on supplementing the IUI with natural methods anyway. Wink wink. So now it's just a sit back, gingerly, and await the results kind of show.

Oh, and PS. in case you're wondering, no I did not request, nor did hubby insist, that he be there to witness the miracle that is insemination. I must not be sentimental (no surprise there) because there was absolutely no part of me that yearned for him to be sitting there awkwardly (for that was bound to be the case) watching while another man poked and prodded my lady parts with a catheter. I think if we were doing IVF, and it felt like someone was actually putting a baby in there, I'd have felt differently. But this is just sperm. It certainly doesn't guarantee a pregnancy and it was all just very weird and science-y. Which now that I think about it, maybe my husband would have appreciated, considering he's a scientist..

On a lighter note, a family member asked me whether I was going to give a helping hand to hubby this morning during his baby making adventures. I had to laugh. And for those wondering whether or not I did, the answer is an astounding no. Let the poor man enjoy himself for once!

Hopeless optimism, originally written February 7th, 2014.

See the disclaimer here.

February 7, 2014

I'm bubbling over with excitement. The devil on my shoulder, who whispers about realistic expectations, statistics and all other means of deflating my pretty red balloon, has been kept away for today. In fact, I'm celebrating this evening with an indulgence of pizza, soda (which I rarely consume) and a good movie, all in my pj's and the great company of my husband.

This morning I shuttled the specimen to the office, tucked under my coat and wrapped in a scarf I had previously warmed up around my neck. I felt like I was toting a precious gift. When I got into the room and was told afterwards to lay still for 10 minutes, I gazed at the blank ultrasound and pictured a small beating heart. Comforting is the only word I can use to describe it.

I'll never get a do-over. There's only one first IUI experience and so far mine has been lovely. The hopeless optimism overflowing today is amazing and such a welcome treat against the stark reality and disappointment of so many months. I know it could all vanish in two weeks with the sight of one lonely line, but for now I'm basking in the possibilities of the future.

It's beautiful and new and I'm loving it. You'd swear I was already pregnant from the way I feel like I'm carrying around a special present in my belly. Already.

Inspiration struck at 4:41 am, originally written February 1st, 2014.

See the disclaimer here.

February 1, 2014

I woke up from a random dream, of which I will not bore you the details, save to say that it involved artwork of mine being purchased. I awoke with a start at 4:41 Friday night Saturday morning, not longing to sell artwork but make artwork. Specifically, watercolors. First a sketch, pencils to paper, and then the paintbrushes. Randomly, at this not so decent hour, I decided upon a watercolor of the nursery and was so excited by the thought that I started planning out how I would design it all in my head, gaining new ideas by the second. It was so random, but such a strong feeling, that I actually found it difficult to fall back asleep. And then, the next morning, I decided to go actually buy the supplies I'd need, because, well... I haven't actually picked up a paintbrush to watercolor, oh, in say... 10+ years.

ROSYRILLI.COM Nursery inspiration sketch
ROSYRILLI.COM Nursery inspiration sketch
ROSYRILLI.COM Nursery inspiration sketch

Drum roll please... originally written January 28th, 2014

See the disclaimer here.

January 28, 2014

So for those of you who have been anxiously sitting on the edge of your seats, patiently waiting to see if I am indeed pregnant or not. I..... [drum roll please] .......









am not. Sorry folks. No exciting, celebration worthy news here. Which means, onto the next level of infertility we go. We're "official" now. Well, I am anyways. Three months of $ free trying are over. Now we're bringing out the bad boys and paying for this sh*t.

And so, my forte into the world of infertility drugs begins. It still seems not quite right to me somehow. Infertility. I'm still so clearly in denial... but eagerly gobbling up my daily serving of Femara (a drug used for fertility). Next week to the day, I'll be shelling out some of that moolah I've been harboring in my baby fund for an ultrasound which should tell me how my ovaries are functioning. I'm praying like hell that those little guys.. or girls, are producing lots of shiny beautiful eggs ripe for the picking. And then, hubby gets to provide an, um, you know.. sample and off we go out of the gate. IUI here we come. I've made peace with it all. Or am trying to anyway. I'm still a little bitter that other people get to spend their money on new clothing, home decorations, vacations etc. and I get to spend all of mine on... doctor's appointments. But ya know, what'rya gonna do?! Life aint fair as they say. We're giving it two months. That's all I have before my savings are mostly depleted. If it hasn't worked out by then, we'll have to re-assess whether we want to continue shelling out cash for said baby dreams. I'm not so sure I'm ready to dig that deep in my pockets yet. I must say two months sounds perfect to me. First, it gives each ovary a fair shot at the game. Wouldn't want to be discriminatory or anything ya know. And secondly, it gives me a little de-stress, back up policy. There's not so much stress placed on this one and only shot we have.. because we have TWO golden tickets. So we'll see. Fingers and toes crossed as usual.

I also did something I've put off doing for over a year. I called my favorite psychic lady for a little tete-a-tete time. She did, after all, predict with accuracy my last pregnancy and had provided me tips on getting there. Amazingly, in the few minutes I chatted with her to set up the appointment, which isn't until next month, she remembered everything she had told me last time and was asking whether I was sticking to her suggestions. Which I wasn't. I felt like a child stammering my excuses but it also gave me a huge amount of hope that maybe this isn't so out of reach after all. She also, to my total excitement, joked that by the time I have my appointment with her I'll probably already be pregnant and won't even need the appointment. Not looking too much into that little tid bit because there's always a tendency for her to flip flop between polite, normal human communication and her psychic abilities and it wasn't quite obvious which she was using.. or being.. or whatever.

So between the good doc and my other worldly adviser, I really have some high hopes for myself and hubby. And don't let me fool you. This might seem all lighthearted and whimsical but I actually cried in church this weekend. It was quite embarrassing really. The tears and sniffling came out of nowhere. Well maybe not completely nowhere. The pastor told a sad story about his dog, followed by the story of someone dying and the image of Jesus weeping. I won't get too far into it but it was followed by a series of questions. What's burying you? What trouble is making you doubt? And it just seemed so clear that I've been burying myself in this tantrum I'm throwing. I'm the two year old on the floor screaming out to God that I want that baby and he's the mature adult telling me to be patient, or that maybe there are other things out there better for me or that I need to grow up and learn some lessons first. Whatever the reason, he's the adult and I'm the demanding child and it's just so not working for me. And it was just such an overwhelming moment because I was having a very similar conversation with my husband the night before. So Sunday, it really hit me hard. It was like the Pastor could have been speaking directly to me out of the crowd. I can't pretend this isn't a huge battle. A huge fight I'm trying to battle and to come to terms with every moment of every day. So that was that. I cried in church. We'll see where those tears eventually lead me but I'm definitely moving forward. One foot in front of the other on this journey.

Ups and downs, originally written January 22nd, 2014.

See the disclaimer here.

Forewarning: Get ready for a some lingo that only serious trying-to-conceivers use! It's like trying to learn a different language when you first start. I'll try to walk you through it gently, I promise. 

January 22, 2014

I don't want to give the wrong impression with all of my positive, inspirational ramblings that swirl around this blog. I still have bad days.

I think I've done an okay job (I hope) of portraying both ups and downs through different posts on this site but it's important to note the fluctuations. Some days I wake up to the sun shining on everything and than there are the other days, when all I can see is clouds, and it's a struggle to let any rays come streaming through the grey. And many days, in fact, go all topsy turvy on me and one minute is bright and the other dark and gloomy. It just depends on the day. And probably my hormones.

So in an effort to be transparent, here's a little preview of my week so far. All was going well, as probably seen through my last post, when boom, out of nowhere my temperature plummets on 9 dpo (days past ovulation). That's never happened to me in the 5 months I've been taking my temperature so I was immediately, secretly, very happy. Implantation dip anyone? I was so anxious to see the next morning's temperature, wanting to will it back up to confirm my hypothesis that implantation had occurred, that I swear to you I couldn't sleep. It's like all of the anxiety that I've kept at bay for the last month decided to linger on this one morning. And alas, my temperature did leap back up, but no higher than any of my other post-ovulation temperatures (meaning it probably wasn't implantation). I was immediately crushed... until I did a lot of googling to reassure myself that this can happen and still result in that allusive BFP (big fat positive). THEN I did a very, very bad thing. I used my one and only pregnancy test. I should have known better. Really. I mean, really? After all of these months, I should know that no matter how much I reassure myself beforehand that I can still be hopeful after seeing a negative, I really can't. It just makes me tailspin into a world of doubt.

And that brings me to now.

ROSYRILLI.COM Fertility friend app

My thoughts are circular these past few days. They go a little something like this:

I had that huge dip. Maybe it was implantation. I wouldn't be able to even get a positive for a few days after anyway. What was I thinking taking that stupid test so early? I'm suuuure in a few days it will be different. I can't wait. I'll be sooo excited if it's positive. Maybe I can hold out until Friday. Imagine the cute ways I could announce it to hubby. Ugh, what am I thinking!? I already know what Friday will bring. The same thing the past few months have brought and then I'll be devastated all weekend. But hey, at least I can drink and work out in peace! That dip was probably just me taking my temperature wrong somehow. Stupid dip. Well, or maybe it really waaas something. I've never, ever, EVER had something like that before. But today it went back down. It should be getting higher, right?! Definitely not pregnant. And I think I feel cramps anyway. Wait, is that maybe good? No. Bad. Definitely bad. Don't I usually feel kind of crappy and gross before I get my period? I'm so getting my period. This sucks.

I'd love to actually have a little counter. Like maybe God could ding every time I think about my temperature during the course of a day. I bet the numbers would be staggering. And embarrassing, considering no matter how much I analyze or reassure myself, it won't change what's happening. It either happened or it didn't. Sometimes I think of all the months that I play this same game for the week before my period and I'm so sad at the thought that it was all for nothing. Here I am, hoping there's some microscopic cell form floating down to bury into my uterus, and really there was nothing. The sperm never even made it. It's pitiful how much hope I cling to and how sure you can sometimes feel.

My mom yelled at me the other night for calling it a failure. But how else can you describe the crushing feeling you feel after every month? It was a failure. A failed attempt at getting pregnant. There's no sense in beating around the bush. It's just that.

And so, I'm pretty sure, regardless of my temperatures teasing me this month, that I am not, in fact, pregnant. I feel a little sad knowing this deep down. Sad for myself for still trying to hope. But then, a woman stopped by today at my office and explained she had her baby inside her car and could only pop in for a second. She was older. Like, visibly older. And she would NOT stop mentioning her new baby. And as per usual, I started to feel that ugly tinge of jealousy. Like really?! This older lady can do it and I freakin' can't. And then something happened. She mentioned her baby was adopted. And suddenly, without a blink of an eye, my heart overflowed with tenderness for this lady. Clearly she was a new mommy and just couldn't stop talking about her new baby, a baby that she had probably worked sooo hard, harder than I ever have, to meet. Sometimes adoption seems like a lovely option. It's like the light at the end of the tunnel telling me that I can still possibly have a baby, if I want it bad enough. If all else fails, I can still end up with a baby. It's never not a possibility, me, having a family. And that really is reassuring.