The Two Worlds of my Infertility

I feel so constantly torn.

How do you know when to fight for what you want, to not just give up...or when you should just let go?

How do you find that line?

I'm trying to do both and it's hard. I'm trying to let it go "for now". I'm trying to move on, to make myself accept that this may be all the family I get, that my baby days may be over, that I may never see my body pregnant again, the last pregnancy unknowingly my last.

At the same time, I have to lay foundations. I have to allow that door to stay open a crack, with potential that it can open wide one day. In order to do that, I can't let go completely. I have to fight companies to give us another interview. I have to fight against other people trying to get the jobs. I have to fight myself over what to get rid of and what I know I'll regret getting rid of later if we do have another. I have to fight between staying at our home and saving money or moving to where we may be able to make more money but start with nothing.

It's not some mythical being that I'm mourning. I'm mourning my Vincent. I said for two years that it felt like we had another little boy, our little Vincent, already part of our family and just waiting to arrive. I've always felt like he was meant to be. Bill has felt it too, felt like there's this baby that's ours, who already has a name and a family he's waiting to join. He's not just any baby, he's a baby that's meant to come from me, grow from me, birthed by me...but my body isn't capable of that on it's own. It's why this is so confusing. I still feel him, I still feel like he's supposed to be here. How can I give up on my little boy whose just not here yet? How can I not fight for him?

Fighting for him means pain, it means planning, it means not letting go. But letting go means I'll always miss him, I'll always feel incomplete, I'll always feel like a failure of a mother for not even trying when things got hard.

So I'm torn, constantly torn.

I try to live both worlds, a world of hope and a world of freedom. It's internal struggle, but it's something. I feel like every step I make, I have to make it for both worlds, but at least it's a step. I may need to tread carefully, but at least I'm moving. It's just so much thought and weight that goes into every breath I take and every move I make. It's hard.

Easing up

I've been in tears for days. It's like there are three parts of me: my physical body, my mental state and my emotional state, and I can only occupy one at a time. My emotional state was the most demanding lately. It makes my body cry when I don't even know why I'm crying. It makes me not have any appetite and almost be repulsed by the idea of having to go eat. It makes me drained, my heart ache, my smile lost. I had insomnia so badly all of January, and it's been back for the last week.

Today has been a bit better. I've switched gears. Last night, I cried and had no idea why until the tears stopped and my mind shut off. I felt completely aware of nothing but inside of my body. Today, I've felt down but no particular reason why. But now, I'm in my mental state. My tears are gone. I'm not sad. My brain is talking to me again, instead of just crying.

While in this state, I think I've finally started to accept my situation. I think through all the crying, even without understanding, and all the mourning of what's happened, acceptance has slowly creeped in.

I've been so stressed to find Bill a new job. Not just any job, but a job with insurance that covers infertility - a rare thing to find in PA. I've been filling out applications, sending out resumes and answering emails for two weeks. I've wished him good luck on interviews, set out his suit, and spent lots of time praying that he'd get the job. No job has happened yet.

Today the stress is gone. The drive is gone. I still want him to get a new job because right now he's working 7 days a week to make ends meet, but I'm willing to look at other jobs. Jobs that are good, even if they don't cover ivf.

I think I'm starting to pry ivf from my grip and let it go a bit. I still 100% pray that we can do it. I still, with all of my heart, want another baby. But I'm letting the rushing go. I'm letting the need to make sure it happens go. I'm letting go of trying to have everything right this second so that I don't need to grieve and feel the loss that we've suffered.

I'm trying to look at the bright side of things. For so long, I could only think of the downside when I thought of having two kids. They're growing up so fast. So many plans unfufilled. So many fantasies of Katie with a sister and Will with a brother not coming true. But while I've had those thoughts, I've cried. I've hidden myself away from Katie and Will to mourn in my sadness and thereby missing out on them. I've been so stressed that I haven't stopped to really enjoy them. I've just been getting through the day, rushing through things, and not really slowing down and seeing what's in front of me.

I'm planning vacations with my perfect vacation sized family. I'm thinking about how special my relationship with Katie will be, with just us being the girls in the house. I think of how special my little sweet boy is to me, my cuddler, my hugger, the one that always watches his mommy.  I'm thinking of the things we can afford for these two, all of the many extras and extra extras we can give them, and how much easier it would be to move.

If nothing else, it would be good to have a few years break between having kids. I'd love to have Will and Katie be a bit older now, I think, before having any others. A wait time before ivf might do good. That's a lot of extra time I get with my current kids and to make lots of fun memories and save up money for the next child/ren.

I can see good in having only two kids, even though my heart mourns to say so. I can see good in waiting to try ivf for another year or two or three. I can see good in taking back my life and starting to really live it again.

I'm going to try, really really try, to be happy again. To fill up my life with fun things, things that make me and my kids smile. I'm going to embrace my small little family like it's the only family we may ever have. I'll still pray that we get our chance to have more. I'll still pray that we get that job we need. I'll still pray that we'll get to have babies that fill our baby names.

But I'm going to calm down. I'm going to breathe. I'm going to still mourn my missing babies, but not try to feel better by rushing to get pregnant. I think a few days ago I shocked myself after realizing that even if I wasn't infertile, I wouldn't want to be getting pregnant right now. I don't think I could mentally handle it. It wouldn't be the time. So why push to ensure ivf so much right now? It's not the time.

This year is about getting our ducks in a row. It's about healing. It's about regrouping, and calming down and just trying to relax. We have a lot of work to do this year, but it'll be done better if it's done without trying to shove more things in it and more emotions driving it.

I pray that 2016 will ease up on my heart and help me to heal and to take it easy. I hope it shows more promise and lets us start seeing our steps fulfilled and our plans going into fruition. Then I hope 2017 will give us our heart's desires and let us start making our big dreams come true. But, one step at a time.

Parting with Baby Items

Today was rough.

It was day #2 of going through baby clothes. 250 little onesies, sleepers, dresses, shirts, hats, teeny tiny socks, overalls and bibs. I sorted them into piles of Girl, Boy, Gender Neutral, Craft and Keep. The Girl, Boy and Gender Neutral ones all had to be buttoned, folded and taken pictures of to sell. It took an hour just to do that part. I filled a tote of my favorite outfits from Will and Katie. I spent about two hours looking into how to make quilts and teddy bears out of them.

Then there was a tiny pile. I allowed myself to keep less than ten outfits. Just the ones I love the most, the ones you don't really see in stores. The ones I would remember were missing if we have another baby. I'll be putting them into a small box, which will get stored in an attic closet. Most likely, they'll sit next to my Arms Reach Cosleeper, which I bargained for at 5 AM before the sun was even up last year, just because I wanted it so much for my next baby. Those two things will probably be all that remains of our baby stash, unless I can allow myself a stroller too. I do love strollers, and I have ones that cost over a thousand dollars individually.

Bringing up the cosleeper makes me sad in another way. I have no drive to go to yard sales anymore. I LOVE yard sales. Every year, I start getting that "itch" in February, that longing to wake up at 4 am each Saturday in April and May, armed with a baggie of quarters and a thin wallet with a few bills. I then spend morning to noon scouting out baby clothes, swings, bouncers, strollers...anything to do with babies or princess or Disney stuff. I then proudly lug it home and look over my little treasures.

No drive this year. No itch or longing. What is there to go for? All the great things I always have on my want list are scratched off, not needed anymore. What's the point?

Instead, this year I'll set up at a few yard sales and be selling those treasures, too many that never got to be used.

The ridding of baby items.

So today, I finally took the plunge and did it...

I sorted through baby clothing to get rid of. 

I started with five totes, filled to the brim. Some were Katie's tiny girly clothing that was nothing but clothes in every shade of pink. Another was all of Will's clothes, all of my favorites. There was a gender neutral tote I was saving for baby #3, who was going to be our surprise gender baby. Another that held new baby girl clothing, full of beautiful boutique outfits waiting for the next daughter of my dreams to fill them. Then there were mixed boxes of different sizes and different seasons. 

I limited them all down until I had one box that I wouldn't part with. About a third of it was clothing that has such great memories of Katie as a baby. Another third was the same for Will's clothing, all the one that were most memorable. These will be turned into a blanket and teddy bear for each child (and mostly, to be snuggled by me). Then the last third was clothing I couldn't part with, items that I had bought so specifically for the next baby that I couldn't bare to get rid of. They are my last hope of having a baby fill them. I made sure it was only a small amount, but I definitely couldn't limit them. 

The other four totes will have pictures taken of them and sold, and that money will go into our IVF hopeful fund. 

Tomorrow, I'm hoping to start digging out the strollers, bouncers, swings, and many of the big items we have stashed away for our next. I'll be taking pictures of them and listing them for sale as well. 

I feel like each baby item holds a tiny piece of my heart, and selling each one is having a piece of my heart torn. But it makes no sense to hold onto so many items for the next few years. It takes up so much space, and we have no idea if we'll even get to use them again. It's only logical to get rid of what I can bare to part with now and just buy new items if we have the need to. It's just an emotional struggle. It's hard to be logical when your heart is broken. It's hard to think clearly when so many little dreams are dead. It's hard to give away items that were meant for a baby that is no longer here, that only fills my arms by the tiny stuffed animal we bought while pregnant. 

Yet in a way, getting rid of baby things protects my heart. To not constantly have that reminder in front of me is a bit of help. To know that there isn't such huge amounts of wasted space, of life on hold, for things that are not being used and may never be used, is a kindness for my overloaded mind that can't handle more sadness. 

So today, while I'm miserable and sad and grumpy anyway because I'm on week 6 of being sick (and had to get chest xrays and bloodwork done to check up on the whys of that), I started what I've been so very dreading. I shedded a few tears, cuddled a few fuzzy outfits and blankets, and got a good portion of baby stuff sorted. 

With every item I put in the 'get rid of' box, I pray that we'll have another baby. I note my favorite brands or which stores I bought certain pieces at, and pray that I'll be able to go to those stores and buy them again. 

I pray that one day, God will see fit to heal my heart and give us another baby that we so desire. 

This isn't parting forever, dear baby items, this is just parting for now, I pray.

Set Back

We've had a setback, which is disappointing. We're refusing to let it hurt our hope, but it is a let down.

The great job that Bill was interviewing for didn't take him. It seemed promising, everything seemed to go really well, so we're not sure where it went wrong. It's the only job that had good pay, was a good company, and covered IVF and meds.

We're now applying for the same company, but in lower positions. It won't be nearly as easy going into one of these positions, it may be another pay cut. We've taken about 4 paycuts in the last few years, and we're pretty strapped. But in the position we're in now, we won't be able to save up enough for ivf for multiple years, and that's pretty much kissing goodbye to our chance at ivf. It we don't do it in the next two years, it might not happen at all. So a paycut is what we'll have to try to get by on if it's what's needed.

I had hoped that with all the sacrifice we've had lately with losing another baby and our fertility and having to get surgery, that maybe, MAYBE this one thing could come to us easy. Maybe we could say that it was all for a purpose, for getting on a better track and a better job. It would have been easier to write off the horrors of the last few months and the financial struggles of all last year had we gotten this job.

So it's disheartening. It's more prayers unanswered for reasons we can't understand. It's life giving us yet another letdown and pushing us around.

It feels like this year, we've had something after us, trying to hurt us in every aspect. It's a big struggle, week by week. It makes me cringe a bit to start each new week, wondering what's coming next. I've become a little paranoid, I think. There's just been so many issues lately. I'm hanging onto the dream of how it'll be once we pull through. Once we have a better job, better insurance, better health. I can handle struggling with infertility. It's taken the better part of two months, but I'm slowly coming to grips with it. But it takes all of my patience, concentration, and faith to do so. Having so much constantly build on top of it is causing cracks in the foundation. It's causing the grip to loosen. I keep patching them up with bits of faith, words of constant whispered prayers, and keeping my sights on what will hopefully be to come. But it's a struggle, it's hard.

I keep holding onto the idea that spring will help. Things will get better when I find life sprouting all around me, when I'm submerged in fresh warm air, when we won't be so cooped up. I eagerly await for my 6 weeks of constant sicknesses to be lifted from me, so I can have a clear head and ability to do things again. I'm praying that planning parties, mommy/daughter and son dates, getting my own car, and doing special things as a family this year will lessen our burdens and lighten our spirits.

Spring, please come soon.

Embryo Donation

I came across some really interesting things lately.

Mostly, the one big reserve Bill has in IVF (big as in, it's the only reserve) is what happens if we have extra fertilized embryos and we can't use them all.

(this situation is highly unlikely, even more unlikely with me having only one ovary, and even super more unlikely with us getting two eggs transferred per cycle. We'd have to beat some BIG odds and get VERY lucky in order to have this scenerio even present itself.)

However, we wanted to make sure we covered all of our bases. Most Christians, especially Catholics and one of the reasons Catholics are against IVF, is due to believing that life starts the moment conception happens - exactly when sperm meets egg. Which means, even though those eggs are outside of my body, as soon as they merge with the sperm, they are now life. Catholics believe that wasting any and throwing any away is destroying life.

So what do we do if we get super, duper lucky and my one ovary gets a ton of eggs taken out during surgery, most of them live through fertilization and the days until transfer/frozen, and then we also get pregnant on that first cycle with twins?

We now know that there are Christian adoption agencies that deal with embryos. You can even choose who they go to. Ivf clinics also usually have lists a mile long of couples waiting for embryos. And the great thing is, chances are if a couple has struggled with infertility and has gone through all the crazy parts of ivf to get their baby, they'll probably be pretty awesome parents who don't take their new positions lightly. So it makes the decision of donations easier.

This would help with the Catholic church's stance against ivf as most of their problem is destroying life. It would be helping couples that are in even worse situations than us.

But the chances of having to do this are super slim. Having one ovary means we'll probably not get more than 8 eggs. Usually only half of the eggs make it to fertilization, and about half of those make it to 3 and 5 day transfers. So if we end up with two good eggs to implant in one cycle, we'll be lucky.

Yet in the offcase that my ovary makes me a freak again, our bases are now covered.

Praying, Hoping, Waiting

I'm not sure what's harder - waiting for something tangible, something that feels so within your reach, or waiting for something that's so wanted but so far off.

I thought waiting for something far off would be hardest. But as it turns out, I'm feeling a bit overly tortured at what felt like was so close.

Bill had an interview with a company that offers IVF coverage plus med coverage. It only makes families wait 30 days before taking them all on. It has a good bonus and weekends off. It sounds perfect. His interview seemed to go really well, he's been feeling really confident.

They told him that the position requires a second interview and if he gets one, he'll be hearing about it early next week.

That's now. Right now. Monday or Tuesday is early next week. This company is prompt. They called about his application the morning after I put it in. It's Monday afternoon and so far today has been on giant prayer fest.

So far the phone has rang a few times. Interestingly enough, one was for an interview at another job. He's had quite a few offers, but some are too far away and some have too little pay. Out of the very few jobs I put in for, he's gotten 5 offers.

But I really, really want this one. And he does too, it seems to have given him a breath of fresh air.

We need this second interview. It's the logical next step to our plans. This company has the best coverage in the entire area...probably only second best in the entire state (first best is working for the actual Blue Cross Independence company, apparently)

Every passing minute feels a bit harder. If my anxiousness and amount of want could make the phone ring, I'm sure it would be ringing off the hook. In fact, part of me seems to think that I could make it happen by sheer will. I'm getting very little done today, I'm so focused on this. There's only two more hours left to the office hours, then it's all up to tomorrow. It's hard, waiting for this. It's hard waiting for a new baby. I've noticed that the want for a new baby has been even stronger lately than it has been this whole time. it's all torture.