The first half of this post deals with my infertility, the second with loss. Read one part, or both, up to you.
I struggled trying to decide what to post here. So many of you have been kind enough to offer feedback and advice on our new journey through IVF, and though I wish I had more to report, unfortunately we are still waiting.
I know some asked if we could get a second opinion, rather than go through a trial run. The IVF group we are using is the most established in our area, transferring over 1000 embryos each year, so while I hate waiting, and also feel that the trial run seems a little wasteful of our financial resources, I don't really have anywhere "better" in the area to turn.
AF arrived this AM with the help of the Prometrium that I was prescribed to get my cycle on track with when my RE wanted for the practice run. I can't tell you how comforting it is to see breast cancer listed as one of the drug's side effects, right alongside dizziness and bloating. Are you kidding me?
So AF came, and I felt blue. Why, knowing my tubes are shot and not functioning, do I still find myself feeling such a sense of disappointment at AF's arrival? I hate that. I hate getting my hopes up for a miracle that is not coming. I did that with Peyton. I should have learned my lesson.
I remember as a kid hearing about a woman's biological clock and thinking how silly it was. Now, everywhere I go, I feel like that clock is ticking away, and people tell me I am young, but really, what good does that do me anyway? I started three years ago. THREE YEARS, two little babies ago, and am still tick-tick-ticking away on that clock with no living children to mother.
Do you ever feel like the universe is trying to tell you something? That you are unworthy or not good enough? I try not to go down that road, really I do, but like I have been saying a lot lately, what makes me so damn undeserving of motherhood?
Sometime, mid next week I would imagine, though I haven't yet heard, will be the trial run that gets me onto the waiting list for the injections class. I am so jealous of the commenters who said this step was allowed to be completed online. The thought of being on hold for the sake of something as menial as learning how to give myself a shot drives me crazy. Take needle, insert needle, withdraw needle. Got it.
So there you have it, nothing. I have nothing to report regarding my lack of fertility. I know it is not Christmas but I am going to throw a Bah-Humbug out there anyway.
I had another "sign" from Peyton a few days back, and while I know some people will think I am crackers for saying so, I am going to share it anyway.
I was on a long walk with my dog Charlotte. We had gone about 2 miles up a desolate road and were passing some old 1800's farm houses when it happened.
Before I go any further, I should mention that it has been pretty gray around here lately, one snow storm following another.
When we got to the top of a large hill I came upon a school bus turnaround sign and started feeling sorry for myself, as I sometimes do, and hopeless about my quest for motherhood.
I began wondering if I would ever have children, and if I did, would they live to school age? Lousy questions like those which two years ago would have been too foreign from my life to even enter my mind.
I circled the turnaround and began heading back, passing a large farmhouse on my left, and a big red barn garage on my right, when something caught my eye. I looked up to see a frisbee sized light reflecting off the center of the red garage.
Everything around me was pretty gray, so the sight of the light made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention.
I looked up, down, and all around trying to find the light's source: a beam of sunlight, a lamp, a mirror, but there was nothing.
When I looked back at the door, the light was gone, and a sense of peace washed over me.
"Was that you Peyton," I asked out loud, (like the crazy woman that I am) and just as the words left my mouth, some chimes in front of the farm house began to sound.
You can think whatever you want of that story, to me it felt significant.