vacantuterus

Blogging one handed

Never thought I'd enjoy it so much!

Running toward home.

My dad's CT scan came back, in his words, "negatory."  Apparently whatever they saw on the x-ray disappeared in the two weeks it took for him to get the CT scan.  I feel like I can breathe again.

**************

I dreamt that I was running through the woods.  Everything around me was incredibly dark, in a way that ordinary night is not.  The pine trees were tall and menacing; I could feel their ill will.  Eyes peered out at me from the darkness, bears and wolves lurked in the shadows, ready to eat me.  I stuck to the winding dirt path I was running along.  Oddly enough, I wasn't frightened.  I was only five years old, my wispy golden pigtails bouncing with each step.  I was wearing my red rain boots, an item I own now as adult, the ones stamped all over with moose that come up the middle of my shins.  I had on a yellow rain coat and I was dragging a pine tree by its top, holding it like a jacket slung over my shoulder.  It was heavy and I was tired of carrying it but I couldn't put it down.  In spite of the dark, scary forest and the heavy pine tree, I was happy.  I was almost home.

The trees widened and I saw a row of tall pews, like you'd see in church.  They were dark and empty, surrounded by the trees.  At the end of the empty aisle, if I turned left, was a door.  It was the back door to my grandmother's house, leading into her sunny, bright green stairway.  All I had to do was get up the aisle and into that door and I'd be home and the forest would be gone like smoke.  I'd never have to worry about it again.  Best of all, my dad was there.  I started running. 

I was just beginning to notice that the aisle was getting longer or that I wasn't going anywhere and that the pine tree was really cutting into my shoulder when the door banged open.  My father came out, shrugging on an identical yellow rain slicker, carrying a flashlight.  He came striding down the aisle, calling my name.  The aisle stopped misbehaving and the wolves and bears, which had been creeping up, retreated back to the forest.  "Daddy!" I shouted happily.  As I ran to close the few steps between us, my father knelt down and opened his arms to embrace me.  I barreled into him, dropping the heavy pine tree, and I knew I was safe.  He'd carry me back to the house; I didn't have to fight the forest on my own any more.

I woke up on my side, curled around my pillow, one arm still tucked over my shoulder as though I had just dropped the tree.

Modern medicine, how I love you.

I finally got to the happy part of the emotional cycle.  Somewhere around the end of last week it hit me like a blindingly bright comet: I could be pregnant.  Like a normal woman.  I could carry a healthy baby to term and deliver.  Welcome back, hope.  I didn't realize how much I've missed you.

Before you start writing me off as a newbie (which I kind of am when it comes to this, so I guess you wouldn't be totally wrong) I know that there are no guarantees with a dFET, just like there are no guarantees with any IVF procedure.  And I know that there are plenty of tests for me to undergo before we are 100% comitted to doing this.  (We will discuss my panic over the sonohystogram a little later.)  And I know that even if the dFET takes and we manage to get pregnant, we could fail at any step of the way.  Life holds no guarantees.  I keep reminding myself.  But to have options where before there were none; to have the hope of being pregnant where before there was none...that is a powerful high.  And it's been very healing.

Sarge and I have spent the past week doing our homework about the dFET.  We called our adoption agency, our church (because of all the funding they've given toward our current domestic adoption), our families, researched embryo banks (Snowflakes=NO) and fallen in love with the idea over and over again while telling each other that no firm decision has been made.  And while it really hasn't because we have to wait for all my testing in order to fully commit ourselves, I think that our hearts have become set on this.  Unless those test show some horrible obstacle, I think this is how we'll be proceeding.

Our adoption agency was supportive.  We've caught them at a bad time; a social worker quit to move to Africa in order to serve the people there and so they are restructuring.  This means that they are trying to give us a new social worker, which is a whole anxiety-riddled post of its own.  However, since we are likely going with embryo adoption, our domestic adoption will have to be put on hold anyway.  We will be allowed to stay listed as a potential match for first families until such time as I fall pregnant.  At that point, we will need to be fully comitted to the donor cycle and suspend our activity in the domestic adoption program.  We're okay with this.  It will be best for our family not to recieve a giant influx of children all at once, especially with the unique needs we have.  If a first family shows interest in having us parent their child before the dFET can happen, we will put the dFET on hold and focus on that adoption.  Basically, it'll be whichever comes first.

Our church was enthusiastic about the whole endeavor, which kind of surprised me.  I know that sounds uncharitable but reality is that many Christians have issues with anything involving IVF.  Most of those issues are circumvented in the case of a dFET because the embryo is there; for good or for ill, it's already been created.  But when money is involved, things can get sticky, especially since that money was designated very specifically for one thing and will now be used for something slightly different.  When I talked to the head of our adoption ministry about it, she jumped up and down and said "That's so exciting!  I'd love to see a big old belly on you!"  She said she didn't think we should run this by the comittee as a whole because it's not something that should be up for deomcratic vote.  She thought that maybe Sarge and I would have to go before the Session (all the elders) if it came to that but she didn't see why.  She talked to our pastor (her husband) and he was excited, too.  He said he couldn't see a reason for us to go before the session for this because it's just adoption at an earlier stage.  So we are all systems go from that point of view, with far more cheerleaders than I thought.

And so now we wait for testing time, which will probably some time in the beginning of February.  Tri.Care needs to issue some referrals (hah!) and we need to sort out what won't be covered (Factor V Leiden, etc.) and what will (day 3 hormone panel, sonohystogram if we are lucky.)  In the mean time, we'll be deciding on an embryo adoption agency (what is the correct term for those places, anyway?) and trying to get our homestudy adjusted.  Rollercoaster,wheeeeee!!

Bitter laughter optional

For four years Sarge and I begged, pleaded and prayed for infertility help.  IVF wasn't covered.  We had zero luck getting referrals.  The best we could do was Miracle Max and even though he was pretty good, he wasn't going to be able to get us pregnant.  So we gave up.  We grieved.  We took a year off to cry.  And then we started the adoption process.  It felt good to be making progress.  Adoption is the right decision for us; it fits our family and we have grown into it.  Infertility still hurts, blindingly so at times, but it's a hurt we can live with.  I don't feel so desperate and sad anymore.  I feel like I might survive.

Which is why it was such a shock when a referral to see an RE quietly arrived in our mailbox last week.  What do I do with this? I wondered.  We're adopting.  We still don't have the money for IVF and I'm not sure I would want to go there anyway.  I feel like I just escaped from that despair-hole.  I decided to make the appointment anyway.  We'd fought so long for this referral; we were going, if only on principle.  It would take a few weeks for them to fit us into the schedule anyway and we'd be able to figure out a game plan by then.  And if not, we could always cancel.

But it didn't take them a few weeks to fit us in; they saw us today.  We spent three hours there this morning.  I just stared at that sentence for ten minutes because I don't know what to write next.  It was overwhelming.  It was everything I expected from reading your blogs and nothing like what I expected because I was experiencing it in person.  I honestly never thought I'd be here, writing about seeing an RE.  I just didn't ever think it would happen.  That is how crappy my insurance is and how hopeless I have felt.

At one point I heard myself explaining calmly to the doctor that "infertility has an emotional component.   I didn't go see a doctor during my miscarriage because there was nothing anyone could do.  I was so angry and bitter that I didn't want to talk to anyone about it."  It was like someone else was describing my first miscarriage for me.  Whoever she was, she was very self-posessed.  I was a gibbering sobbing wreck but I couldn't seem to make that part connect with the calm part during that moment.  "Infertility has a HUGE emotional component" replied my very mild-mannered RE, "and that is why we have a social worker on staff who deals with nothing but infertility and pregnancy loss.  If you ever feel like you need to talk to her, please say so.  What a horrible day for you; a migraine and having to relive all of this."  That connected my gibbering self very fast and I had to take several deep breaths in order not to cry.  I didn't expect him to be so nice and non-threatening.

There's a lot I'm glossing over but this is our game plan for now: we do not want to do IVF or even IUI.  That's not where we are right now.  We're happy with adoption, we've mourned our genetic link and the reality of the situation is that it's still not financially feasible.  We do, however, want some answers if we can possibly have them.  We want to know why we can't have children together and why we miscarried twice.

There was one last thing, though, and this is the thing that has me reeling: the idea of an FET with a donor embryo.  Our RE thinks we have a good chance of success with an FET and if we shift some things in our budget, we can swing it financially, at least one try; maybe two.  I could still have the experience of being pregnant and giving birth.  I could bond with our baby, right from the start.  Something I never thought would be possible for us is now our best shot, and a pretty solid bet at that.

There has to be a part two to this entry because I have too many thoughts and feelings regarding this to cram into this one.  There's the bliding rage at the fact that if it hadn't taken four years for my insruance to issue this referral, we'd have known that a donor FET was possible for us two or more years ago and probably have a baby by now.  My heart could have broken so much less if they had just issued the damned referral.  There's the prisoner-release feeling of "okay, there's a good chance I'll be a mother" after years of feeling like it would never happen for us (which is pretty much where I was yesterday) and struggling to live in a world where the view has totally changed.  I should be overwhelmed with happiness, right?  Instead, I am plain overwhelmed.  I can't switch gears that fast.  I can't assimilate.  And then there's the question of the adoption journey we're on right now.  What happens with that?  Do we suspend all that to do the donor FET because my uterus isn't getting any younger?  Do we wait for a while to see what comes of it?  What do we tell our church, which basically funded the adoption costs, if we do decide to suspend this adoption and do the donor FET?  There's a lot to consider and I know I don't have to make an decisions right now.  I can take my time.  I'm just overwhelmed.  This could change our life.  It's a lot of information for one morning.  And a huge paradigm shift.

I'm going to go to bed and sleep on this but before I do, I wanted to thank you all for your thoughtful comments on my last post.  So many of you said insightful things from your own personal experiences that made me think and made my load a little lighter.  I want to email you each personally but if I don't get around to it (I am terrible that way, please forgive me) I want you to know that you've given me lots of food for thought.  And I'll be blogging about it soon.

Yaaayyy!

My brother is home from Iraq!

(FYI: That is Beth with my brother, not me.)

I have no idea what happend to the formatting.

I’m sitting in Frankfurt airport right now, waiting for the call to board the plane home.  What better time to blog, even if I won’t be able to post until I get home?  I’m tired and travel weary already, despite the fact that I haven’t even gotten on the plane yet.  I woke up early catch the train and over crowding ensured that I stood practically the whole 2-hour ride to the airport.  And my headache’s coming back.

                                                                                                                                    

I had a great time while I was in Germany, twice-frozen debit card and confiscated military ID aside.  IQ has given me permission to use her real name and my nephews’ real names, so I’d like you all to say hello to Beth, Ezekiel and Deacon.  I also took a leap and gave Beth my blog URL, so she’ll be popping by here regularly if she’s not totally bored to death by my archives.  (Speaking of archives, anyone know why only some of my archives are displayed on the sidebar?  The ways of TypePad are a mystery to me.)  I know Beth understands the infertility roller-coaster, even though she’s not a frequent flier herself.  She’s virtually the only one who’s never said anything stupid to me about it.  I think that she’s more than earned her place here.

I got to meet my sweet new nephew Deacon for the first time.  Lucky for me, he wants to be held almost all the time, so I spent a good portion of my visit just walking him around the apartment.  We had special diaper changing time after every feeding, too, which was my favorite time with him.  He’s always in a good mood after being fed and he *loves* being clean and dry.  Every time I’d lay him down to change him this big grin would spread across his face.  I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself now that I can’t see that smile every day.

Zeke (formerly known as PNN) was less into Aunt Flicka but for good reasons.  He was teething while I was there and with my brother being gone and all sorts of people coming and going, he’s a little fragile.  He really just wants Beth all the time.  I was a little sad about that since he was such a cuddly love in February when we visited but I understand.  He’s going through a lot.  I did get some forehead time (he gives love by putting his forehead against another person’s) so I wasn’t totally rejected.

Beth and I stayed up way too late every night talking, which was so fun.  Practically every night we would lie in bed, gabbing away until one of us asked what time it was, screeched about it and then declared we *had* to go to sleep.  I really miss having her near.  We talk several times a week but it’s not the same as seeing her each week, like we did before we both got married and moved so far apart.

One of the best parts of my trip was meeting Kath of Inhospitable!  We met up in a city about an hour from where I was staying and had lunch in a small café.  Kath made me feel so at ease, like a friend I’ve known all my life.  I felt so comfortable talking to her.  We spent some time marveling over the fact that she is due any week now.  I just find it so incredible when any of us breach the barrier; seeing Kath pregnant was incredibly good.  She looks awesome, by the way.  I don’t think she’s gained a pound except in the belly; elegant, thin person she is.  And tall!  I thought I was tall but Kath has me by a few inches.

 

After our lunch we walked back to the train station and she waited for my train with me (mine departed first.)  We sipped our hot chocolates and just gabbed.  I was so sorry to see the train roll up…I could have spent the whole afternoon talking.  Kath told me that there’s a good possibility that she’ll be in the States over the Christmas holiday, so I was hoping that maybe we could finally schedule that second Barren Bloggers get together in D.C. What do you think?  Tabard Inn?  We’ll pick a date?

Even though I had a great time overall, I had a few wobbly moments.  I had forgotten what a base full of deployed spouses looks like; everywhere we were on base was pretty much a baby fest.  Beth had the Knitting Knot (her knitting group) over on Monday and everyone there was either pregnant or had children or both.  When she asked me before I came if that would be okay, I had said it would be fine, thinking it really would be.  I don’t know what was going through my head; probably that I like to knit and I enjoy meeting Beth’s friends (some of whom occasionally become friends of mine, too.)  I don’t know if it was the onset of my period or just the usual infertility pain but by the end of the afternoon, I was feeling ready to cry.  Smelling Deacon’s head didn’t help.  Nothing smells so good as that tiny baby’s head.

 

By Tuesday, I was miserable.  I didn’t want to leave Beth and the kids.  I miss them already and it’s been a few hours.  Saying goodbye to those boys tears my heart.  But I was just feeling so infertile.  So…I don’t even know how to explain it.  The loss always seems so much more acute when I see my nephews.  I see who they look like, who they take after and I know I’ll never have that.  My child will probably look nothing like me.  And while that’s okay with me and I know I will love him/her anyway, I’m still grieving for loss of my biological children and for the normalcy that will never be ours.  All I could think was that if Sarge had never gotten ill and we had never been infertile, we’d be living a similar life.  We’d be overseas somewhere, back in the military community, which I miss.  And I wouldn’t have miscarried my two babies, they’d be here with me and just about my nephews’ ages.  I can’t believe all of that still hurts as much as it does.

Tuesday after we came of out the store, I took Zeke to the car while Beth went to pay a phone bill.  He was overtired and cranky and probably hungry since he hadn’t eaten much lunch and as I started to walk away from Beth he began to whimper.  As I was putting him in the car, I accidentally bonked his head on the door.  It wasn’t hard, or at least not any harder than had happened earlier in the week when he shook it off and was fine.  But the combination of everything made him open his mouth in that breathless way kids get right before you know they’re going to scream.  Two fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he wailed.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” I apologized as I strapped him in.  And I started crying, too, just quietly going to pieces.  It was too much guilt.  Too much loss.  I feel it all so keenly here.

And so I am glad to be going home, to my husband who loves me and understands me and who sent me love letters over email while I was gone.  He hired a maid to clean our house, too, so that neither of us have to worry about it now that he is going to school and I am working.  The stress that takes off my shoulders is unbelievable.  I can’t wait to see him again and be safe in his arms.

 

I’ll see you all in a few days after I’m rested.

And God said "yes."

Last Thursday I was coming off the high of speaking with the social worker and becoming nervous for my appointment with the surgeon.  It had been raining and cold and I was busy trying to warm up the house by baking things when the sun unexpectedly broke through the clouds, flooding the kitchen with light.  I shoved what I was making into the oven and went to stand in the window, letting the rays wash over me.  It occured to me as I stood there that because it was still raining there might be a rainbow somewhere.  Splashed across the sky behind my house was this:

This is only one side of the curve; the whole was too big to fit into my viewfinder.  The pictures pale in comparison.  The rainbow was gorgeous and huge and remained for as long as the sun, which was not long enough.  "Please let this be a sign." I whispered to God.

I saw the surgeon the next morning.  He told me that he had personally read my CT scan and report.  Yes, my lymph nodes are enlarged.  But they are still within normal.  They are superficial which means that they are closer to the surface of my skin than normal, which is why I can feel so many of them.  He feels so strongly that I am fine that he would not even recommend a biopsy at this point.  He called in another surgeon to corroborate his opinion and she examined my lumps and bumps and then tucked my hair behind my ear for me in a motherly gesture that instantly founded a huge amount of trust on my part.  Both of them explained that general physicians are just that; they are too generalized to know what they are talking about which is why my doctor should not have said anything about a "gray zone."  They explained that she did the right thing by referring me but not by panicking me with threats of cancer.  They will make sure that I am okay by checking me for the next two years.  I have an appointment next month to be reexamined and if I am fine then I will have an appointment in two months.  If I am fine then, then three months and so on until two years are up at which time, if I am still cancer free, they will send me off into the sunset with all the good wishes they can think.

It was all I could do not to burst into tears right then and there.  From relief, from anger, from general emotion.  I'd spent a week planning for my funeral and mentally writing instructions for the washer just in case I died.  Telling my mother that it would be her duty to make sure Sarge was okay after I died and telling Sarge that he needed to remember to update my blog because I realized that none of you would know what had happened to me if he didn't.  Switiching gears all of a sudden was a shock. 

I don't want you to think that I am not over the moon about the fact that I am not going to die.  Because I am.  I am over the moon and the sun and the Horsehead nebula, too.  I'm so incredibly glad that I *will* be going to London this summer, that I *will* be available to IQ if she needs me in June and most of all that our adoption can proceed unhindered.    So many good things have happened recently that I just don't know what to do with myself.  Drama in a good way.  Who knew it could happen?

Most assuredly NOT pregnant...

...as you might be able to tell from my state of dress.  I figured it wouldn't matter if I bled on these while writhing in pain.*   

Thanks for all your well-wishes.  I'm actually not too dissappointed, or at least not any more than usual.  I was pretty sure I wasn't pregnant; more than anything I am concerned about why my LP would vary so much over the last two months.  It could just be a fluke, I suppose but then again given my body's tendancy toward entropy, I have trouble believing it's nothing horrible.  Guess we'll see what next moth brings, eh?

*These are Sarge's volleyball pants from his days in Japan. 

Still alive *UPDATED*

Although there is copius evidence to the contrary, I am still alive.  (Thanks for seeking me out, Bird!)  Last week the neighborhood exploded and I was busy mopping up the mess.  I'd love to blog about it but I'm just too tired and a little heartbroken besides.  Also very, very angry.  I don't want to slag through it again.

Then there was the possibility that I was pregnant.  You might remember that last month I started spotting at 9DPO.  Digusting, I thought.  My body is irrevocably broken.  Then this month happened and I didn't start spotting until 11DPO and then it was just dark brown stuff that tapered off rather quickly.  My temps began to drop only to ride right back up again this morning.  It wasn't until the metformin was kicking my butt this afternoon that I finally got a good bloody show (which then went away again but at least I know it's coming.)  On Day 15.  It remains to be seen if my temperature goes down tomorrow.  I've never made it to Day 15 with elevated temps outside of the two miscarriages.  I thought I might take a pregnancy test to make sure that I'm not going for Early! Miscarriage! Number! Three! but then decided that I really don't want to know.  Either way, I just want this thing over and done with before I leave for Germany next week. 

Aaaaand, on the opposite end of the gloom spectrum, we finished the paperwork for our preliminary adoption application.  It's going off in the mail tomorrow, after which we will spend another nail-biting TWW to see if we will be accepted for a formal application.  I can't see why we'd be turned down since we didn't have to include any medical information...that will come after the formal application and a good-sized chunk of money to accompany such.

I promise a better update before I go to Germany.  I really do have more to say than bite-sized updates.

*AAAAGHHH!  My body is driving me *insane.*  Seriously, any advice you can give me here would really help.  It's now 16 DPO with no anything at all, not even the brown spotting.  If I wipe hard, I get a faint smear on the TP (sorry, I know that's gross.)  This morning there was some bright red blood (none that made it past the TP) and then it tapered off to nothing.  My boobs are sore but I don't rely on them because they ache all the time on some level and they tend to be unbearable when my period comes on, no matter what the state of my uterus.  It's my temperatures that are giving me pause.  I was at 97.9 this morning which I realize isn't stellar but it's not my normal pre- and post- menstural 97.3.  And it's the lowest my temps have dropped this LP.  I keep waking up every morning convinced that this will be the morning my temps go down and I finally get my period.  But still nothing.  I might also point out that aside from about three seconds of very mild cramping yesterday afternoon, I've felt nothing down there at all since 5-6 DPO.  And yes, I realize that a pee stick would give me lots of answers but nothing makes me feel stupider than buying a pregnancy test the night before my temps take a nose dive.  It's happened so many times that I've given up peeing on anything but the toilet.  I suspect that I am not, in fact, pregnant.  So why is my body acting like this?  Any ideas? 

No, I can't be pregnant.  That would be impossible, right? I'm being silly.

And round and round I go.  It's fun here at our house.

Not hating life quite so much today...

PT went to NYC today to get her 11 month old son, leaving NND home alone in blissful quiet.  I took advantage of that fact to have tea and a chat with her.  While we were discussing PT's distinct lack of desire to help herself in any way (seriously, this is something that is really getting on my nerves) I brought up how painful it was to have her living next door.

It's so raw, I explained.  I can't even describe it.  NND nodded understanding.  When I said that I could barely stand to be around PT, let alone drive her to appointments, it barely made a ripple with her.  Not in the sense that she wasn't listening but in the sense that she understood and wasn't upset that I was withdrawing my involvement.  I felt relieved.  I thought I could do this but as it turns out, I'm merely mortal after all.  Trying to be involved was a mistake.  I'm glad that I can feel free to leave it alone now.

NND and H-NND are leaving for Florida next week.  They have told PT that she needs to have found a place to stay by that time.  PT is unwilling to make the phone calls she has to in order to ensure that she and her baby have a place to stay.  All she really wants to do is sneak long-distance phone calls and hang out at NND's house.  She's acting like a typical spoiled teenager with a sense of entitlement.  It's understandable, if a little immature, given her age.  But unlike a normal teenager, she doesn't have the luxury of behaving that way.  She has a baby and another on the way.  She needs to get a grip on reality.

Her basic plan now is to take whatever handout she can get and move from place to place.  She's unwilling to make plans to finish her GED, despite her talk.  She's been here a week now and has demonstrated no desire for forward motion.  She's with NND for what she can get.  It annoys me on so many levels.  I am glad I don't need to be involved any more.  I really don't think I could take it.

In other news, I have been making massive amounts of cervical fluid for the past four days.  Seriously, I have never been this juicy in my life.  Also in the miracle department is the fact that I think I ovulated yesterday on....Day 16!!  I know that's not a big deal for some of you but for me, that is a HUGE miracle.  I've never ovulated that early in my entire life.  Ever.  So please, pray for me.  I already have my hopes up which I know is stupid at 1 DPO but I do.  I just keep hoping that with Sarge off so many meds and me actually ovulating that a miracle will occur and we'll get (and stay) pregnant.  I try not to think about it too much but that's a losing battle.  I haven't been this excited in a long time.