Two.

Two years ago, I was seven and a half weeks pregnant with Tate after a whole crazy fertility journey that took more out of Dave and I than I care to admit.  We had told a handful of people.  We were planning on telling our families on Thanksgiving.

I took my Meme to the store to shop for her famous stuffing ingredients.  I was happily making plans to put together the tables.  I couldn’t wait to hit the stores for Black Friday. 

The morning before Thanksgiving, I woke up and things didn’t feel right.  I thought it was pregnancy nausea.  Finn had crawled into bed with me that morning when Dave left for work and had fallen back asleep.  I made it ten steps to the bathroom before figuring out that something was very very wrong. 

I was on the floor seconds after having that thought.

A lot of the details are fuzzy after that and it is just now gotten to the point that Dave and I can talk about it.  Before, when I’d ask, he’d get that uncomfortable tone that meant he’d curtly answer my questions and he didn’t want to re-live any of it.

I screamed for Finn.  He was three at the time, he stayed really calm even though I could tell he was upset.  He brought me the phone and I managed to dial Dave. 

In hindsight, I should have just dialed 9-1-1, but I remember thinking they would have had to breakdown the door because Finn didn’t know how to open the lock and I didn’t know what they would do with Finn.  I don’t remember any of what I said to Dave on the phone, but he said that he knew something was wrong as soon as I started talking.  He left work and sped home, calling my mom and then my RE {fertility doc} on the way.

I either passed out on the phone with him or right after.  Then, I managed to crawl into the shower.  Again, hindsight that was the stupidest thing I could have done, but I thought icy water would prevent me from passing out again.  That wasn’t the case apparently because when Dave got home, that is where he found me.  The doctor’s office told him to get me to the hospital immediately.

Infertility Awareness Week.

I felt like a piece of my very being was missing.  And something so simple, something you have been painstakingly preventing your entire life until you were finally “ready,” is held out of your reach no matter how much you stretch to grasp it.

It doesn’t just go away when you have a child.  Or two children.  Or five children.  The pain, it’s still there.

It is excruciating and I wish it didn’t happen to anyone.

But it did. 

It happened to me. 

And to Bea.  And Laura.  And Ashlee.  And Amy.  And Stace.  And Lisa.  And Rachel.

And probably someone you know and care about.

Breastfeeding and Formula Feeding.

Breastfeeding and formula feeding.  We do both at our house.

If you’ve spent much time around So Wonderful, So Marvelous, you know that Tate didn’t come easily.  And Neither did Finn.

Imagine my surprise when I learned that not only did my polycystic ovary issues make getting pregnant nearly impossible, but also wreaked havoc on breastfeeding once I finally had my sweet Finnegan.

With Finn, I had no clue why there was a breastfeeding problem.  Everybody makes milk.  It’s natural.  It’s supposed to be easy!  The lactation consultants were perplexed.  He was latching perfectly, sucking furiously, and still losing weight.  In the hospital, we began supplementing after the on staff pediatrician made me feel like I was purposefully starving my baby.  Yes, the baby that we had struggled so hard to have, the baby that we both wanted more than anything in the entire world.  Did I mention that my nipples were cracked and bleeding from all of the pumping and feeding to try anything to get my milk to come in?  {And yes, I made it known to the hospital that the way the doctor handled the situation was unacceptable.} 

When we got home from the hospital, I told Dave I was giving up.  I cried to him.  I felt like a failure. 

Instead of listening to me the hormones, Dave went and rented a hospital grade pump.  He came home, told me that it was mine for a month to either use or not, but he was giving me the option because he knew how much I wanted to breastfeed.

So, I pumped and continued to breastfeed and supplemented with formula.  Sometimes it was a lot of formula, but he always got some milk from me too.  One thing that helped my {totally irrational} guilt was hearing our pediatrician tell us that even if he was only getting a tablespoon a day, he was getting the benefits of breast milk. 

There were these nagging moments that would creep in, of feeling like I had somehow let him down.  Once, an acquaintance asked me if I was nursing.  Finally feeling at peace with our situation, I explained that I was breast feeding and supplementing with formula.  She told me right there on the street, three month old infant in my arms, that I was given the wrong information.  Our bodies are meant to feed our babies, stop supplementing and your body will catch up, she said.  It crushed me to smile and nod, pretend to listen and try not to cry.

Other moms gave me the sidelong glance when I pulled out a bottle of formula.  

Most of all, it was me… I wanted nothing more than to be that mom who could just pull out a boob and feed my baby.  I wanted that for Finn.  I wanted it for myself.  I didn’t want to cart around bottles and formula.  I didn’t want to do twice the work, breastfeeding him then pulling out a bottle, mixing up formula, and feeding him again.  I was hardest on myself. 

It wasn’t even the formula.  I don’t subscribe to the camp that likens formula to poison.  Formula nourishes babies every single day, all over the world.  It makes it possible for babies to grow and thrive, whether by choice or by necessity.  For me, it just hurt so much to know that after all the struggles to get pregnant, here was yet another obstacle, another thing, screwing it up. 

I found my rhythm and made the best with the hand we were dealt.  We lasted 15 months breastfeeding, Finn and I.  It is one of the things I am most proud of in my life.  It certainly wasn’t easy, but it sure was worth it.

When I got pregnant with Tate, I knew that I wanted to be proactive about breastfeeding.  I did a lot of reading and talking with my lovely, wonderful, amazing friend who also had supply issues.  It helps tremendously to have someone you can talk to, to call crying, who realizes the struggle you’re going through. 

I wanted so badly for breastfeeding to work with Tate.  I wanted nothing more than the feeling of my baby curled up next to me, satisfied and asleep with a milk drunk smile on her face.

I decided to start with herbal supplements.  A couple months before I had Tate, I started taking Alfalfa and Goat’s Rue in addition to my pre-natal vitamin.  I also started taking Shatavari and Red Clover after having her. 

I figured out that because of my PCOS, I probably have a very mild form of IGT, insufficient glandular tissue.  This basically means that thanks to whacky hormones going through puberty, my body didn’t make enough of the milk production glands.  When you’re a D-cup, you never really figure that you might have less boobs than you need, but it turns out that IGT doesn’t discriminate based on breast size.  I am one of the lucky ones, if ever there is a ‘lucky’ here, there are some women who never produce a drop of breast milk.

We did a lot of non-medicinal things as well like having skin to skin contact as much as possible the first month, feeding on demand, and pumping to let my body know there was a need for more milk.  About a month after she was born, I started taking Domperidone which is a drug not readily available in the US that has been shown to increase supply.  The results differ for everyone, but I have had some success with it.  There are some times when we don’t even need to supplement.

As an aside: I personally did not want to take Reglan which is the ‘go to’ supply increasing drug here in the US.  I have close family members with histories of depression and after reading the side effects and success rates decided that it was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. 

This time, I was more relaxed.  I also had the benefit of having breastfed before and knew what to expect.  Often {not always} with subsequent babies, women naturally have an increased supply of breast milk.  I knew going in that I might need to supplement and so I did my research and chose a formula I was comfortable with {Earth’s Best Organic if you’re wondering} and had some on hand rather than getting stuck with whatever samples we were given.  We rented a hospital grade pump again {the Medela Symphony} and I’ve been having much more success pumping.  

Most importantly, I’m less hard on myself.  She is healthy and happy and that is what matters.

There is so much controversy about breast versus formula feeding.  I’m here to tell you that sometimes, a middle ground does exist… not by choice, but by necessity.  And maybe, just maybe, we should give all moms the benefit of the doubt no matter what their feeding choices might be.

For us, we’ve found our balance Miss Tate and I.  The view from here… it’s full.

Here are a list of resources that I found helpful:

The best was this book.  The Breastfeeding Mother's Guide to Making More Milk: Foreword by Martha Sears, RN {Amazon Affiliate Link}

PCOS and Breastfeeding

Living with Chronic Low Milk Supply

Domperidone

Casey’s Story

Anna Talks About the Breastfeeding Industry

Positive.

Joy.  Lots and lots of joy.  We are expecting July 4. 

I took this photo on October 22.  That is a long time to keep quiet for a loudmouth like me.  Especially since we have been waiting and trying, and trying and waiting for what seems like forever.  The day the magical plus sign would appear.  And to my secret keepers?  You will never realize how amazingly wonderful your support has been these last 16 weeks.  Thank you.

So now, we patiently await our cute little bean.  

Where you came from.

Finn asked me today where we got him.

Three year olds are a nosey bunch aren't they? 

I explained to him that mommy and daddy made him and he grew in my tummy until he was big enough to come out.

I figure that the nightmare of figuring out it involves a penis and a vagina can be saved for a later date.

Much later.  Like never.  Or whenever his dad feels it necessary to share that information with him.  Because a) dad's should talk to boys about their equipment and how it works and b) it will be hilarious to watch Dave have that talk. 

Then he asked me how I got his bones inside my tummy.

Uh.  Well, you were really tiny and you grew them?

Where the hell do these kids come up with these questions and why do I feel like I have to be a scientist to figure out the answers?

So we pulled out the online album of when I was pregnant and had him.  I showed him the 3d ultrasound pics where he looked a little like himself and less like a blob.  He asked me if that was the food in my belly.  Um, no.  That's your face, see?

I showed him pictures of me when I was pregnant.  Let me tell you, I was not 'cute pregnant' I looked like death warmed over.  I am pretty sure I have mentally blocked that out to protect myself as a coping mechanism.  Which totally sucks because Dave's work wife my friend Jordan just gave birth to the sweetest baby girl in fifteen minutes of pushing and looked cuter than any human being should EVER look after pushing a baby out of her vagina without an epidural.  If she wasn't so awesome I'd probably have to hate her.

Maybe this infertility thing is really the universe saying, "dude, you are not a pretty pregnant and if you have a girl, YOU'RE going to be the one explaining the whole penis/vagina thing, so let's just skip that, ok?"

Summer Guest Blogger Friday! It’s Stacy from An American Girl in Canada!

Well, when Michelle was first putting out the call for guest bloggers for the summer I thought that it would be fun.  Little did I know how many witty, intelligent bloggers she knew!  Now I’m a little intimidated, but ready to give it a try.

I’m Stacy, of An American Girl in Canada.  I moved to Canada in 2003…for a man.  That’s it, plain and simple.  He’s a great man, one of the main loves of my life…the others are my faith, my son, and the relationships I have with people that I love.  Those are the things that I usually blog about.  I wish I were a funny blogger, or a creative woman that can create a castle out of egg cartons and my own spit…but I am neither, so you get simply me.  I thought and thought about what to write in this post, and after a long conversation by a campfire with some of our best friends-my cousins who we were vacationing with-last night this topic came to mind.  Fertility.  Or infertility…or all of the things surrounding both of those big words.  I know, it seems like a pretty big topic for a summer guest post, right?  Maybe I should have blogged about my vacation, the things we are doing, the people we are seeing, but I think this is what I need to say today.  If you don’t want to hear it, stop reading!  (I know, I have you hooked, right?) 

I am surrounded by friends and family that haven’t had the easiest time on the road to having children.  It’s interesting.  When you decide to have a baby you think that it’s going to be so easy.  You will try and voila…that very first month you will get pregnant!  For some people, this is the case.  In fact, it is for my own sisters!  Although I sometimes envy them, I do not wish them harm or wish for them to have a long and difficult road.  I would never wish that upon someone else.  For us, it has been a long road.  I have learned a lot along the way, and although it hasn’t been easy, I am thankful for the way it has molded me and even for the kind of mother it has turned me into.  If you want to details, you can read up on them in my blog, but let’s just say, it’s not always easy.  After having these experiences and going through hard times with some of my dearest friends, I decided to compile a TO DO/NOT TO DO list for helping friends with fertility issues.  It is tough to know what to do or say for someone going through this.  And it is even harder for the person on the other end, trust me.  In that light, here goes:  in random order, my top ten dos and don’ts when dealing with friends with fertility issues list.

 

1.  If you have a friend that has just had a miscarriage, I know that it is extremely tempting to tell them the story about your aunt’s sister’s niece that had two or three miscarriages and went on to have five perfectly healthy children, but please, please refrain.  Despite what you may think, this is NOT going to make them feel better.  Especially if they currently have no children.  You could tell your dear friend 100 stories like this, and although she may smile politely and thank you for the piece of wisdom, inside her head she is probably screaming.  So, just don’t.

2.  What IS the appropriate response then, you ask?  Well, that’s a tough one.  You’ll have to think about your friend.  When we had our first miscarriage, we had a variety of responses.  Some friends invited us over for pizza that very night.  Although I didn’t feel much like eating, the idea of getting out of our own house and our own sorrow for an hour or two sounded really normal and nice.  We went over, they ordered delicious food and then they made us laugh.  Seriously. They told us funny stories about their relationship and marriage, stories we had never heard.  It was probably my emotions running high, or the crazed hormones raging through my body, but I laughed until I cried that night, and then I was really crying, and my friend Tara was holding me and saying it was going to be ok, some way, some how. 

Another response that totally touched my heart in a different way came from my friend, Jen.  When I called to tell her she simply broke down into tears, total and complete sobs.  They were sobs that I hadn’t even expressed myself yet.  Hearing her cry with such abandon allowed me to do the same.  We didn’t even say much at all, we just cried together there on the phone, and with each tear I shed, a little part of my heart was healed.  With our third miscarriage, a group of my girlfriends came over.  They brought all of the crappy foods that we never allow ourselves to eat and we gorged ourselves and watched the Super Bowl-without really paying attention-and just laughed.  None of them, not a single one, MADE me talk about it, unless I wanted to.  We just ate, talked, and laughed. 

In short, who knows what the appropriate response is!  Just think about your friend.  Maybe she’s the kind of girl that would love to get all dressed up, go out for drinks, and just be away from thinking about it for a moment.  Maybe she wants you to meet up with her at the mall and shop.  Maybe she wants you to come over, make her tea, hug her and cry with her.  Whatever it is, please don’t tell the story about the woman who had three miscarriages and then five kids.  I know, it will be hard.  You will feel it coming to your lips but seal them.  Stop it in its tracks and instead, give her a big hug.

3.  If your friend that is going through fertility problems-be it a miscarriage, not producing enough eggs, whatever-already has a child, please don’t say to her that at least she has one baby and she should feel blessed.  Trust me, she has already told herself that very same thing a million and one times.  She knows that.  She thinks that every single day.  She looks at her little munchkin and thanks the Lord that she has that baby or toddler or whatever.  It doesn’t mean that what she is going through doesn’t hurt.  It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want that child to be a sibling.  Even if that thought crosses your mind, or you think she is being ungrateful…she isn’t.  She is saying everything that you could ever think to say to her to herself every day, just to try to get through it.

4.  Here’s a do.  DO let her be mad if she wants to!  Maybe your friend has been trying for a year to have a baby, and according to doctors nothing is wrong and she is perfectly fine, yet, she’s mad.  Let her be mad!  Tell her that yeah, it totally sucks!  Yeah, it isn’t fair…let the woman rant, come on.  And when she sees that pregnant lady smoking in the parking lot of the donut shop and wants to go over and beat her up because she has a baby and she is filling that baby with smoke, well, don’t let her beat the woman up, because hey, she would regret it, but let her be mad!  Let her rant!  Say how unfair it is with her!

5.  If you have a close friend that is having trouble having children and you suddenly find yourself pregnant, don’t hold it back from her.  I can’t promise you that a little part of her won’t hurt and be jealous, but I do promise you that she will be more hurt if she finds out from someone else, or from facebook or from meeting up with you for coffee one day and wondering why you are suddenly ordering decaf and have a wee bump.  Yeah, that hurts.  So, even though it feels awkward for you and you feel sad for her, tell her.  One other thing…be understanding if maybe she pulls away from you for a bit.  It’s nothing personal, she is probably just trying to process everything in her mind. 

6.  Don’t give your friend advice/articles/tell stories about how she can become pregnant or why she probably lost the baby.  I had someone give me an article about how working out can cause miscarriages about a week after we lost our first baby.  I almost lost it I tell you.  The woman is probably already blaming herself, don’t add to it!  Also, if your friend seems unable to conceive,   don’t tell her about the experimental hormone therapy that your cousin’s brother’s wife tried and it allowed her to have triplets after ten years of trying.  She’s probably already heard about it, read about it, or had her doctor tell her about it.  She doesn’t really need you to tell her.  Plus, she also doesn’t really need to know how your mom’s best friend’s daughter tried for seven years and finally had a baby.  Even though you look at that as a success story, to her she is hearing the phrase seven years and thinking REALLY?  SEVEN YEARS???  Yeah…to you it seems ok, but when you are in the middle of trying, seven years seems like F-O-R-E-V-E-R.  Think about it.  I’m serious, take a minute to really think about it.  Think about trying every single month for even a year, and every single month having that test say negative.  Talk about heartbreak.  Think about the way your heart would feel.  Think about how similar pregnancy symptoms are to PMS symptoms and how they can wreak havoc with your mind.  Imagine experiencing that chaos every single month for not only one year, but maybe even SEVEN!  Think about how it could take the joy out of something that should be fun for you and your husband.  Think about all of these things, and then keep them all in.  Don’t give the advice.   Don’t pass on the article.  She has probably visited that website, read that book, gone to that doctor.  When she wants your advice about these things she will probably ask.  If she isn’t asking it doesn’t mean you aren’t her friend.  It means she just wants to keep it to herself.  Okay?

7.  Try really, really, really hard not to say, “Well, there is always adoption, right?”  Now, let me precursor this.  I have an adopted brother.  He is one of the lights of my life.  He brought incredible, amazing joy into our family.  I can’t imagine our lives without him in it.  I thank his mother in my own head for giving him up so he could be a part of our family.  I think of him not as my adopted brother, but as my own brother, so much so that when people say, “Hey, who is that Korean guy in your family photo?” I have to stop and think about whom they are talking about.  I truly hope to have a chance to adopt someday, and if Kevin and I had not been able to have our own babies, we would have made that our first option, but saying that to someone in the middle of fertility difficulties?  It doesn’t make it easier.  They know that it’s an option.  They know that there are lots of babies out there that need homes.  They know it is a wonderful thing.  Does that mean it hurts any less to think you may never feel the amazing wonder of your own child moving within you?  That your husband won’t miss out on putting his hand on your belly and feeling your baby kick or seeing that hand morph out and move back in as the baby moves across the womb?  What about seeing your husband’s silly squinchy face in your son’s face as he concentrates?  Or talking about how tall you bet your little boy will be because both you and your husband have height in your family?  Or saying, “Yep, he gets his blue eyes from his grandma, that’s for sure!”  It’s not that you can’t still revel at the wonder of your adopted baby, and trust me you will, but first you have to say goodbye to those other thoughts and feelings and that is a tough thing to do. 

8.  This one goes for ANYONE.  The next time you are tempted to go up to that young couple you know and ask them when they are going to get on board and have kids, think about the fact that maybe they are already trying.  Maybe they have been trying for a few years.  Maybe they have already lost a baby.  If you are close friends with someone, you might know what they are going through, and try hard not to ask how things are going.  They will tell you if they want to.  Don’t assume that just because a couple has been married for ten years and has no children that they must not want them.  Maybe they do, and they can’t have them.  Or if they don’t want them, people, it’s not a crime.  It is hard for some of us to understand, because we love our kids and can’t imagine somebody else not wanting a child, it doesn’t mean it is wrong.  So, maybe just avoid that question all together.  My cousin last night was talking about an experience where he said he felt like a total heel.  He was ribbing someone about the fact that he and his wife didn’t yet have kids, and he later found out that this person had been trying for almost two years.  Ouch.  He felt really bad, even though he hadn’t been too hard on the guy and knew him pretty well.  He said he has never done that again.

9.  Don’t be offended if you find out from someone else that your friend is having fertility difficulties and didn’t share it with you.  It’s a tough thing to go through.  Everyone reacts differently.  Some people put it out there for the world to see, because ranting about it or talking to a lot of people is their mode for getting through it.  Some people tell no one, and suffer in private pain, because that is the easiest way for them to cope.  Some people tell just a few people, and even though you might think you should be one of those people they share with, don’t be offended if you aren’t.  Just let them get through it however they can.  Don’t make them feel even worse by somehow implying that they should have told you or by harboring resentful feelings when you find out that they had a miscarriage a few months back and they never shared that with you.  Maybe they just needed to keep it inside.  Telling them that it hurt you will only make them feel worse and hurt even more.

10.  Finally, #10!  DO BE THERE.  Be there in any way that your friend needs.  If you think she is doing great and she randomly calls you up one day sobbing, be the shoulder to cry on.  If she has a miscarriage and asks you to take her out for drinks because gosh darnit, she’s going to drink if she wants to, then take her!  If she wants to keep it all inside, be waiting on the wings for that day that maybe, just maybe she just wants to talk about it, and don’t ask her to tell you more than she wants to. 

 

That’s it, that’s my advice.  You might not agree, but isn’t that the beauty of a blog?  If you don’t, just quit reading!  Not witty, not creative, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t keep it real.  Trust me, not all of my blogs are this deep…but a lot of them are!  Stop on by if you want more of it! 

P.S.  Happy Summer!  I had a great vacation by the way.  We went and got old time photos done yesterday and my little monkey?  He is an ADORABLE cowboy.  If you stop by my blog you might get to see the picture!  AND vacation updates!  Cheers!

F is For Facebook + Fertility + Free Printable

Happy Thursday y'all. 

I have lots to tell you, but first...

Want to join?  I promise not to annoy the hell out of you with Farmville {who DOES that?} and/or share my addiction of Family Feud.  It'll only be quality annoyances like updates on the blog and/or fun things I come across and want to share with you.  Click here.  Come sit at my lunch table.  It's just me over there and I'm lonely.  All the cool kids are doing it.

Next up, a sneak peek at Finn's big boy room...

I am *thisclose* to finishing it up.  The wall color stayed the same because we love it, which also means easy.  The last item, a fantastic $35 Craigslist find that needed a lot of attention.  I'll have it for you in detail next week.  I can't wait!  It is such a cool space now even though I cried packing up all of Finn's baby things.

See the cute little number picture?  I made it {and I use that term lightly} in 2.4 seconds and you can download it from my Scribd account in the classic colors seen above or a little bit of a girlie version as well.

Also next week?  My family arrives for it's yearly pilgrimage to the Ann Arbor Art Fair.  I have a big family dinner planned for Wednesday, I'll share the menu + recipes with you, of course.

My appointment with the Reproductive Endo was awesome.  He recommended a different drug and had high hopes that numero dos will indeed at some point make his or her appearance and that all is not lost in the hope department.  If you click to the wiki article, skip right on past the breast cancer stuff to the off label uses, bonus is that the side effects are supposed to be a lot easier to handle.  Fingers crossed peeps.  Fingers crossed.

Oh, and the bathroom?  You know the one we started in March?  Yep, that one.  It's finally getting wrapped up as well.  Why is it that my husband can tear out walls, have them back up, things tiled, and installed all in a week, yet the trim pieces take three months?  I do not know the answer to that, but if you do, let me in on the secret.  I'm practicing patience.

What else do I need to do in the next few days?  Finish up my book club reading, get to the gym, and clean this wreck of a house.

I hope your Thursday is fabulous.

The Hurt

I talked a bit about our first round of battling infertility here that one, it had a happy ending.  His name is Finnegan and he is about the best thing I have ever created {with a healthy dose of DNA from his daddy as well}. 

We waffled about taking the leap to have another one.  People asked.  A lot.  And made assumptions that we were trying, even when we weren't.  We wanted to enjoy every second with Finn, we wanted to be financially ready for the responsibility of another, we wanted to space them enough that they would be friends and not insanely competitive. 

But now, I am older by four years and I thought for sure when we were ready for a second that he or she would arrive in much the same way as Finn did.  We would decide we were ready and start the clomid and numero dos would be here 9 months later.   

But life, it has other plans sometimes.  It's a lesson I am learning daily.  You see, I am not the one who believes patience is a virtue, I am more the control freak who wants things done on her schedule.  We were finally ready, and it would be this year.  It is difficult when life decides to work on its own timeline.  The worst of it, aside from not being pregnant, is practicing what I preach.  The universe knows when the time is right, or if the time is right.  I am learning patience.  I am practicing confidence that my path is on the course it should be.  I know this to be true.  Maybe he or she isn't ready yet, maybe there is something I need to accomplish first, maybe Finnegan needs me to himself a bit longer.  Maybe it isn't meant to be, and that... well, that right there is the possibility that is hardest to swallow.

So, here we are.  I've been through three rounds of clomid with zero result and I am not sure how I feel about persuing something more invasive.  We're exploring options, but I am not willing to send my chances for multiples through the roof nor am I willing to conceive in a test tube.  Just to be clear, it isn't for religious or moral reasons, I just know the limits of what I can personally take and/or put my family through.  It kills me a little inside with each ovarian ultrasound that this is my problem, I am the one failing.  This is harder to admit than I like.  I don't like being the one who fails.  Ever.

The hurt, it is soul crushing some days.  I was in agony when packing away Finnegan's baby things.  He is three, there is no need for rattles and playmats that were stored under his toddler bed.  I kept thinking that someday, someday we would need them again.  Downstairs the crib went.  Clothes packed away.  Should I just get rid of it?  I'm pretty certain that we could finance a vacation if we did.

And with every announcement of a new baby arriving a little piece of me hurts.  Holding the cutest most lovely babies in the world makes me ache.  How much does it suck to say that out loud?  I feel like an asshole because I can not even express to you the happiness I have for my family and friends, it's the little piece that screams, "why not me???" that is hurting.  I try to shut her up, but she is still there, waiting in the wings.  Jealousy.

This man of mine though?  He is unbelievably supportive.  He laughs when I make jokes about being broken and point obnoxiously to my uterus or do the Mary Katherine Gallagher "Barren!" instead of "Superstar!"  He holds me tight when I cry packing baby things away and Finn tells me he's not a baby anymore.  When I was waffling about going to see a specialist or just saying "I'm done," his words to me made every doubt I had dissapate.  Those words?  The parable of the drowning man.  That sometimes the message isn't, "it isn't meant to be."  Sometimes the message is to take the steps one at a time, to help yourself.  So I am, with him by my side.  And just as before, Dave is my strength in all of this.

So maybe send some fertile thoughts or kind words my way?  Right now, I could really use them. 

And maybe quit asking when we're having another or telling people that we're trying, because it sucks to be reminded.  It's even harder when the reminder pops out of the blue and smacks me right in the face. Next time, if you feel the need to discuss my uterus because you feel like gossiping, now you can tell them all of this instead. 

And tomorrow I'll have a really pretty party for you and not a depressing rant about the suck that is INFERTILITY.  {Because in my head it is yelled.}