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Another day, another circle

Today I got back on the erg at the rowing club . 6 ks of going round and round.  Stroke after stork. Legs, back, hands… hands, body legs.

My numbers were better than I thought.

It all came back to me. The rowing meditation when I was coming to terms with my first failed cycle.

I am now about 2 months post the 4th failed donor egg cycle.

I have done vaginal scans in 4 different countries.  Filled hormone prescriptions in 5 different cities.  Literally flown around the entire globe as part of this last cycle.  I have cried and hoped.  And feel further than ever from this ever working.

This time was easier.  I shed my tears in the middle of the cycle, after waking up one day and just knowing it hadn’t worked. I did the blood draw the day I landed back in New Zealand.

I got the results while standing on the street collecting for a local charity.

And then I went back to everyday life.  It was like the cycle never happened.

(It was also like my “vacation” never happened either because most of the 7 weeks away was just making the cycle happen)

And now I am back to square one… literally, back to the number one question.  Do I still want to be a parent?  And if so, how badly do I want it?  What price am I willing to pay and play this came of chance….

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The view from here

Rainbow
The view from here is much better now.  I went down hard last November. Not get out of bed hard.  Being drug to doctor by friend hard.

Doctor put me on some anti-depressents — whoa that first day was the worst mental health day of my life. I called my contact list. Miss D thank you so much for saying exactly the right thing. Not “are you okay?” not “would you like me to come” just “great, I’ll be there in 15 minutes, wait for me out front!”

I was sliding down walls hysterically crying and then sort of blacking out before emotionally coming to leaning against another wall. Hysterical.  Simply awful.

The second day was the best day of my mental health career. The anxiety that has plagued me since I was a wee thing, finally lifted and has stayed lifted every day that I have remembered my meds. The forgotten days — well that was just proof that these meds are amazing!

Have I mentioned that I am not exactly into medication. Drug-adverse might best describe me.  I am a head strong person who has avoided medication with a such devotion.

Speaking of drugs — I also started HRT a few months ago.

All of you who said, “What were you waiting for,?”,  well you are right. This is amazing. It is completely different than the pill (which made me depressive, anxiety, with a wickedly low labido, and with this sense that the world had no colour). Also HRT feels completely different than the meds I was on for cycles.

I have opted to pay extra for estrogen via a patch rather than pills, and love it. And it is so so, I don’t know, can you describe being on hormones as  smooth?

I sleep better. I have more energy. I lost weight. I just feel better. I look healthier.  I bounce back from things better.

Then there is the progesterone week — yeah, that is sort of like my old ‘normal’ with a slight edge. I am so so excited when estrogen day rolls around again.  But even P- week isn’t so bad.

And best of all — all the benefits of hormones without the drama of a period.

So yes, it took me nearly a decade to start HRT and nearly two to start anti-anxiety meds. I think for whatever reason that it was the right time for me.  But I don’t regret waiting. AND I am also glad that I went ahead and made the leap.

It has made so many other leaps in my life possible.

Like what you ask… ha!  as much as I doubt you that you ask, I am going to go ahead and fill you in since this is an overdue update.

Here are the highlights since I those dark November days of last year:

  • Private practice – I am well and truly up and running in my own private practice.  In less than 10 months I have broken even, started to be able to pay myself, found several dream clients, and filled my schedule.
  • Day job – I have negotiated the hours I wanted at my day job which lets me meet a huge range of people. Every day is different and their is virtually no paperwork.   Perfect balance to my private caseload
  • I moved into a dream flat with a view of the sea and skylights.  And a bathtub to soak in on the nights where the house is too cold to describe (central heating is not really that common in New Zealand — think luxurious camping with space heaters)
  • Published my first journal article in the premier academic journal of my field.  I don’t mention it in public, but I can here on my private little blog that has few readers due to a very slow plot line (cycles that are years and years apart — with consistently negative results isn’t the normal 1-3 year page-turner of a blog arc, plus I am always doing my cycles in odd places that few people have access to)
  • Health — well so so, but I have somehow lost weight without trying again. I think because the constant stress and worry the verged on terror was not exactly conducive to anything except creating a layer of protective padding.  Almost not drinking.  Loving the lack of second hand smoke (but missing many other things in Europe)

What’s next — who knows.

I am talking to some parents who went down the international adoption path.  I have a donor lined up who might come to New Zealand for a cycle — if we can ever sort out our crazy international schedule between the lot of us.  I have 2 embryos in Spain waiting for me.

At any moment, I will.. I might.. well we’ll see, but at any moment action could happen and then we’ll see.

I do know that each time I do any forward action, even small ones like emailing a clinic to update our current address, I am awash in complicated emotions.  But most days I am just living.

Fertility is feeling like that craft project in the closet — just waiting to be picked up, but easily can be put off another week.  I know that I can’t do that forever though.  At some point I have to get on with this or empty that closet.

To be continued…

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shadow self

It has gone quiet and still and a bit dark in my soul these past weeks. I feel invisible and I have done a good job of becoming invisible.

My mother skypes in and says how great I look and she is so glad I have landed on my feet. I smile and nod. They can’t help right now, so I let them assume things. It isn’t right but it is my path right now.

I text Italy in the the middle of my night and in the middle of their day. They hear my truth. I wouldn’t say I am depressed. I wouldn’t exactly call it anxiety. But it definitely isn’t thriving.

Something broke in me these past years… years of waiting and hoping and pouring all my momentum in daring to risk my heart again. In daring to not give up. I have great memories and photos of the past few years, but I haven’t been building anything either.

All those days I woke up and did a day of living… well from the outside careers and parenting seem to be hard, but day after day of effort leads to being able to stand back and say, "why look at that, by gosh we seem to have somehow got from way over there to way over here"

And yes, awful things can derail that. Children sadly die. Careers implode. People acquire disabilities that make years of work honing a talent suddenly become make that talent so hard to weld.

But I am taking it slow.

I have put my fledging private practice on hold. I am calling tomorrow to transfer out another chunk of money from my retirement account to buy me a few more weeks of living expenses. And I am just sitting.

I do little things

– I promised myself I’d donate blood after 2 women donated eggs to us. First donation done

– I bought flowers for a little girl today whose pet died and held her while she was sad

– I touch base with my friends in that awful final push of a PhD, providing encouragement

These things are enough to make these empty days have meaning.

I can’t help but wander what my life would have been like if kids had come easy. Would that have forced me to make certain decisions by now? Would we be living in a house of our own? Would I have pushed harder to do what is needed to build a career/livelihood for myself?

The reality is without kids I can coast for awhile. Its just numbers in the savings account.

And so I am still. I am still with frequent glances to the side to the paths not taken and the largest one looming over me is the path that I would be on right now if the cycle had worked in January.

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loses all around us

Tonight I treated myself to a nice Friday night out. Great dinner . Great film. And then in the pouring sideways rain, I decided to take advantage of the cab sitting at the side of the road.

We get to talking about the weather.  I mention that its a bit of a hard change after Italy. He asks if I am from there, I say no, I grew up in America.  I ask him where he grew up.  He says Iraq.

I never quite know what to say to a complete stranger when I know they know I am from America and I know his country is profoundly different because of my country’s actions.

He repeats himself quietly with that tone of voice that suggests he wonders if I am too ignorant to know where that is… I felt bad.  It wasn’t that I didn’t hear him, I just didn’t know what to say. 

I said something like, “I am sorry for what has happened to your country and for the part in that my country did” .

He replied, “Its too late now”

He moved to NZ 11 years ago he said.  2003.  Two years after 9/11. 

I didn’t dare ask about his family or anything else. We only had 2 more minutes in the car ride.  I just was overwhelmed with this sense of loss. I don’t know if he lost anyone dear to him or if he lost many people.    I got the palatable sense of how much he felt the lose of his country.

I am an expat.  I don’t know if I want to go home ever to live, and when I visit, I don’t exactly fit in.. but I can go home.  If anything its stayed too much the same for my tastes in some ways.

I doubt that is true for him. 

Exile and expat are 2 very different things.   And perhaps he can go back, but I have no illusions that he can go back to anything that looked like the Iraq of his youth. 

And I walked out of the cab so so very sad.  So at loss for words.  So frustrated that I couldn’t have thought of anything kinder, more honest, better to say. I just sat in stunned silence not knowing what to say or do.

This violence in our dear world and the violence that bubbles underneath the American culture is something I have no idea how to deal with.  And I don’t mean how to stop it, which I also have no clue about.  But I literally have no idea how to cope with its existence. The 3 very public shootings when I was home this summer.  The wars my country backs and the ones it chooses to ignore. the college hazing and the love of watching contact sports.  And I am not saying that it is just the USA.  But it is something I am so uneasy with tonight.

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dates and goals

So today I was sent some photos of where I used to live in Italy. Just Gorgeous!

My husband and joked that is we work hard, perhaps we can save the money and go back next year for a visit. I added that we could swing by Spain and try to get knocked up. He said write that down and put it on the wall.

But the reality is I have no clients yet, which means no money yet, and definitely no money on top of what I already invested into this business venture.

I should be polishing my website, reviewing my list of calls to make tomorrow.. any number of things.

But no. I am doing none of those things. I am doing the maths. 

  • I am realizing that if the first cycle would have taken… our child would have started school last month. He or she would have been 5.
  • If the second had worked, I would be at 30 weeks and counting down to October.
  • If the third had worked, I would be at 18 weeks and counting down for a New Years baby.

Instead I am just counting. So very much alone. With no job. A husband on the other side of the world. And a bus card that just ran out of money.  and a long night ahead of me sitting with this. 

At least when I called the fertility clinic up, the nurse remember me.  I literally only was there 3-4 times back in 2008.  So there you go.  I am world famous in NZ in the clinic. She even remember what I did for a living.  So there is that…

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Old stomping grounds

I have met up with a dear old friend from my study abroad days. She is 100% mum now and the most delightful type. We stay up late talking about everything and anything over wine. During the days, its all playing with her delightful son. Helping with playdates. Trying new ideas out to help him communicate his wonderful ideas and insights. Inventing ideas on the fly to help smooth out the tearful moments.

I find myself talking about this blog in real life now.. I mention my anonymous blog. I also talk about the DE stuff a lot more.

And it just comes up more.

I asked a dad at a playdate what he did.. engineering.. now working on tech to help embryologists do various repetitive procedures. Just dove in to ask what he knew about how much the skill of the embryologist changes outcomes etc. The way people might talk about cars or something. Just another adult things, like mortgages, people think about and discuss, regardless if you have personally signed up for it.

Another friend from years back that I mostly know from a social dance scene also was talking about lots of adult things. Housing market, tax advisers, economies, expat visa drams… you know my normal chat over wine lately… and when I told him about how I opted to invest so much of my savings into the DE thing. He just was so lovely. Just spot on. It was a sincere ‘I’m so sorry’ with absolutely no pity.

But more than anything, I am realizing that I am in a new place. I am getting so many compliments about how handy I am to have around kids. My mom/dad friends love having me come stay. They call it a vacation to have me as a house guest. The kids love me so much. This used to be a bit salty… why would the gods keep me from mothering when clearly this is what I am born to do.

But maybe it isn’t in the cards. Maybe my destining is to do this really well in short bursts and help the exhausted, sleep deprived, day-in-day-out drained parents of the world get their spark back.

And it has been nice hearing my friends who are on the property ladder and looking like they are in much healthy financial situations that I am (for the moment) state the obvious… but Clare, what would you regret more — not having tried to have kids.

Exactly. I have tried. And I am still going to try a bit more. One last push to save up and go again. I have two embryos waiting me in Spain and a friend who can come down to NZ. I have to do a bunch more tests to make sure that the 3 DE cycles weren’t taking because of something in me. I have to sign back up for the adoption track too. And more than anything, I need to build my professional life back up so I have livelihood again to sustain me now and hopefully a much bigger us.

I have spent a week helping a little 3 year old learn to wait. I can apply those skills to me as well.

I think the trick of waiting is the same for him as it is for me… to make sure everything is in place and then find some mindful way to pass the time so you aren’t ‘killing time’ but living it and moving forward.

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Perceptions

Today I felt flat.  I didn’t get much done.  Gave up and watched movies in bed all day.  Later I got brave and went upstairs to join my upstairs neighbours for dinner. 

I was in a funk.. and trying to round up someone to drag me to town for dancing or a drink or a slice of cake — anything really!

And then the neighbour who was cooking randomly said, “Clare you are just so positive.. I love that about having you around”

Which was literally so far away from what I was feeling.  I was feeling incredibly down and negative and lost. I was fretting that my mood was bringing other down. I was concerned that I was inviting myself over way too much, particularly if I was not in high spirits.

His words meant so much to me.  I shared my truth that him saying that meant a lot because I have actually been feeling rather down and was worried that I had been infecting others with my mood.

He responded, “well then, you fake it well”

That single exchange gave me the courage to just spend the rest of the evening with them.  I helped their oldest with science fair. I read with the younger.  I played piano for nearly an hour — which is grand for me, but I suspect the parents also don’t mind in the sense of ‘oh good someone is modelling practising piano for our daughters and this person also sometimes says things like drat and oh bother and even occasionally swears and then keeps going’. Or maybe not, but I play reasonably well nowadays and the girls more than half the time immediately start playing when I finish, and there are much more offensive behaviours than playing the piano as a neighbour/house guest.

It wasn’t going out or making new friends, but it was my speed and I felt useful and in community.

Then I saw that Mel over at Stirrup Queens had included me in the round up.  I swelled with even more of that wonderful feeling I call being “in community.”

Thank you all.  And thank goodness for words that have the power to reverse my personal doubts.

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Home again

This week I have been transported from two place I call home and was surrounded by love.  A better send off couldn’t be possible.

Family played scrabble with me until my first flight in the USA

Friends took time off work to spend an entire layover day at the beach near SFO (who knew that the beach was only 15 minutes from the airport!). In the hours of chatting, briefly the topic of egg donors came up. She is still very willing.  I repeated that if we do this, I would want to lean on her to be a mentor regarding race.  It was simple. Just two people repeating that what we talked about a couple years ago is still on the table. 

This could happen.  Well maybe next year once I recover a bit financially from a life of wishful thinking of living without work in Europe so I could do treatments.  I wouldn’t change it. It was a great year in many respects. I made peace with Italy in my own way.  I made huge strides towards being even more at peace with my inability to conceive.

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Friends picked me up in New Zealand including a young friend who I gave a stuffed animal too 4 years ago when she was little. I asked her to mind it for me until I got back. She brought it with her to the airport and gave it to me as I arrived.  It is in perfect condition.  I was so deeply touched that she took this charge so seriously and I am glad that little girl who loves to show her love through gifts had a way to clearly communicate the magnitude of her joy that I was back.

I am a part of  family life. I am deeply part of this family and many other families’ lives. Their children think of me a special aunt and as a friend and as someone they can count on. Their parents have me down as their emergency contact number. I fill in as a babysitter and confidant. 

I am part of the team…. who knows if I ever get to give it a go myself… but today I am feeling blessed that I know I have showered loved on children and it has come back to me 10 fold.

PS  As I wrote this I realized I was put on the plane by a friend who may donate and was met by the woman who had donated to me so many years ago.   This can’t be a very common event!  

And on my next trip I am visiting a dear friend who did successfully donate (to another person) several years ago.  The story of women helping women, often out of sight and behind the scenes, is an old story.  More and more I am seeing this egg donation business as just a logical chapter in that story.  Of women seeing each others needs and giving what they can.  I try as much as possible to make sure it is a two way street.

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Love rocks to the rescue

This love rock thing in my community is more powerful than I realized.

If you want to check it out, look up Love Rocks and love-drenched-life. Please don’t link it back here, I still want to keep my blog world separate from my small town real world life — mostly because if we ever manage to have a child through donor eggs I want my child to have as much control over who knows his or her story. Small towns and gossip — well you know, there is no controlling a story once one person knows.

But I take the small risk to write about it here though because it is really, truly helping me. Yes it is about honouring my friends’ girls. Yes it is about spreading joy. But as a side benefit, I am finding it really healing.

Its barely been a month since my cycle failed. It will be a year before I can try again. It has been 6-7 years, depending on how I count, that I have been walking this journey. No one talks to me about it . No one asks out right and even when I mention it, no one really asks any follow up questions or comments. I totally underestimate how hard this sometimes is for me. I just know too many people dealing with so much more. I am so lucky.

But dang, it still hurts some days. And you know what else, even though the rawness is gone, this experience still weighs me down and I curtail my life in certain ways .I just find myself avoiding so many things.

My voice is getting quieter. My engagement with the community is decreasing. I am just retreating in ways I am often not aware of.

I am particularly shy and tentative and a bit embarrassed about doing the love rock thing, but this is my truth that I shared recently with my friend who started this project/movement near where I grew up.

It has been a lovely couple days of love rocks for me… There have been several ‘tricky’ social situations for me that normally I would have bailed on. But the love rock making, hiding, and giving has been giving me a meaningful activity that magically keeps me in social places long enough for the dynamics to shift and for me to find my footing again. So many special moments have happened this week because I stayed long enough for them to occur (in my presence).

I have done things that normally would be too raw to be fully present in (or even to simply show up for) this soon after a negative beta:

  • I went to a kid-friendly parade where kids gleefully skipped rope, drew on the streets with chalk, and blew bubbles galore. I hide a rock in a bike helmet, in a bucket of chalk, and at the base of a stop sign.
  • I went to lunch with my mom at a restaurant where they just loved her. They really know her and always bring her a special pot of tea – on the house! I gave them the rock in person and said thank you for being so kind and wonderful to my mom.
  • While ice skating, I handed one to a women about 10 years older than me who started skating only 2 years ago. She is now doing spins and jumps and is so so graceful. I said that I wanted to give her a rock because she makes me smile with joy seeing her skate and getting to see her get better and better. I said she could pass it on. She said, "but what if I want to keep it?!" "Sure!"
  • I gave one to a friend who attempted suicide not too long ago.. and told her I love her and we need her and to always call. Any time.
  • I never leave a tip any more without a rock on top — a local restaurant has a shrine/waterfall by the door, and there are now a dozen of lovingly arranged love rocks.
  • A man in a wheelchair got stuck on the train for 15 minutes because the door wouldn’t open. He patiently waited for help and then was gracious when the only solution was to go to the next stop where he could exit on the left instead of the right. It was a train full of stressed people only a few stops from the airport. As he was getting off, I gave him a rock and said it is something people in my community are doing when someone looks like they are having a rough day or moment.
  • I have put them on parking meters and handed them to the cashier when paying for parking.
  • They are in waiting rooms, park benches, playground swings, and so so many in dressing/fitting rooms.

But mostly they are giving me a reason to show up and live. I don’t mind going shopping now — it is meaningful enough if I leave a rock. I don’t get so stressed when going out to eat — the small talk is bearable if I can sneak off and hide another rock. I don’t get upset when nothing fits in the dressing room as I look at my belly that somehow always manages to look 3 months pregnant, I just leave a rock.

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And even if the rocks are found and thrown away, that is a small price to pay if it is getting me out of the house, out of my funk, and out of my own little world of worries.

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A month out

A few days ago I met up with a friend who is in the throws of grief. She has been blogging about  the experience of living after her two elementary school daughters went to heaven.  When I stopped by she hugged me like I’ve never been hugged before. We talked like waterfalls of truth crashing into each other. Technically the transcript was of catching up… so you have left Italy.. oh so you are doing a fundraiser.. oh so how is your puppy? …. how’s work?  Mother’s day was so hard.. yes, me to, for different reasons….

But every single moment was this intense raw truth. Our hearts were both open and the intensity of our lives was right there cracking through the surface.  There was none of the posturing and emptiness of small talk.

She said something that stuck with me, “Clare, a friend just told me that I am grieving publicly and that doing so, in the current world,  is a rare rare thing.”

It is indeed.  I get privacy and we all grieve in our own way. But I think it somehow is a good thing, like fresh air, to have someone saying to their community — this is my truth. This is what I am going through. This is how you help and how you make it accidentally harder. Here is where the joy and goodness lies in my unbelievably hard days.  I am not strong nor amazing, I am just finding my way through some incredibly hard days.  Sit with me.

She is making some people uncomfortable.  She is meeting with her daughters classes.  There is some, um, variety in how well this is being received from totally embraced to  tolerated with great reluctance.  Some school staff feels like it crosses into religion in school.  But I remember when a fellow schoolmate went home sick and died of an aneurysm we were both terrified that it was going to happen to us and rather confused about  how to process this sudden person-sized hole in our community.  No one really told us about dealing with loss as a process.  No one talked about how there are things you can actively do and other things you have to just passively let happen.  No one taught us how to support the others who felt that gap more deeply, like her brothers.

My friend is having her daughters’ friends and classmates make love rocks by attaching fabric hearts to rocks and the giving them to people as an act of love and passing on rocks you receive to others. Oh how I wish when I was a kid that someone would have answered our questions and modelled different ways of grieving and whatever the verb is for supporting people who are grieving.

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My home town is like a community wide Easter Egg hunt now.  Love rocks are being found in grocery stores, on doorsteps, in mailboxes, on gravestone markers, and being handed to each other face to face.  I asked a dear friend what her son in the ICU wanted… he wanted rocks to pass out to the nurses.  He wasn’t yet well enough to smile for his parents, but the smallest glimmer appeared at the corner of his mouth when he handed over a rock to his nurse.

But I also had another realization.  My friend was saying how rare grieving in public currently is.  But I realize for the past 8 years I have been grieving and witnesses and trying to support people in this little community of people touched by infertility.  We have grieved together.  This is our normal.  Many of us are hardly public about it in real life, but I feel like through your words I have learned so much about this process.  How the months blend into years. How words can sooth.  How silently being present makes a difference.  How we all get through this -somehow.

Because of all of your stories, I am no longer afraid of the grief.  It doesn’t have the power to terrify me.  Yes, it sweeps me under some days. It made me apart for some months.  It probably has made me physically at times and certainly contributed to me dropping a few balls at work and at home.   I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.. but I am not afraid of it either.

No doubt this journey has pierced me to the core. But I know this thing called grief so much better from having seen it up close and far away, from so many angles and through so many view points.  So thank you.  I truly believe our little community here has also helped me to be able to stand in the face of enormous grief in others and see the worry on the faces and in the hearts of friends and community member without flinching, without trying to fix it, without trying to make it go away.  I couldn’t have done that 10 years ago… but after watching everyone here share our stories for so many years, I can stand on my friends porch and listen to anything she wants to say. Her truth can not scare me.  Because I know she and I and so many of my friends will walk similar roads. We will hurt. But we will be okay.

We are not strong or amazing or worthy of “I just don’t know how you do it, I could never endure that”. We were those things before and after and of course during.

For me, I find the awe and strength when I see people stand up and being present for each other when they are being asked by circumstance to endure heartache.  Thank you for helping me becoming able to do that.   And thank you all for helping me on this journey these past 7 years.

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Three betas — each one different from the first

Its been a whirlwind month. I think I have underplayed in my real life how much has happened in only a month.

  • Negative Beta on the 2nd
  • Packed up my house
  • Flew to England
  • Shipped all my belongings to NZ
  • Left Italy
  • Started a long distance period with my husband (only 4 months to go!)
  • Putting finishing touches on my business website before it goes live.
  • Arrived in America for a few weeks catching up with friends and family before immigrating back to NZ

So in short, closed a lot of chapters in my life and started a big limbo phase before I have a home and career of my own firmly established again.

I also thought I was going to lose my mind that first week of May.

That negative hit me harder than any of the others. I just remember collapsing to the ground and crying for about 2 days straight. All my people were out of town. I just curled up and sobbed. Not for a few hours.. but for a few days.

And then I went still. So still.

And then a week later I popped out like a person sucked under the white water gasping for breath blinking at the light.

And mostly that was that.

Hubris I know… but honestly I think I have been coping and grieving and anticipating this for so many months.. okay let’s be honest years.  The process feels different now. The first negative back in 2008 held me down for nearly 2  years. I retreated from social life for at least a year. I spent 2 years throwing my heart and soul into rowing to try to beat back my demons.

But this time it was different… then it was so many loses on top of each other. That I would never be able to pass on my genes. That this cycle didn’t work, there was no next step. That my long term plan of moving to NZ as a place to have and raise kids was null and void. And that there was no future options with in our reach. It wasn’t a single beta. It was the only beta.

It is different now. I know I can happily live without kids. The salt is still there, but I know I can do it.

I know I have options. At least for a few years, money can be exchanged for another chance. Plus there are 2 embryos waiting for me. I have had the luxury of starting my IF journey in my 20s. I have had more time to process and take all this on board.  The clock is only now starting to tick more furiously for me.  I had the better part of a decade to come to terms with all of this.  I am not going to say I was exactly lucky, but I am grateful that this journey wasn’t all squeezed into my 30s.

So while this last beta was darker, harder, and more intense than any of the others. The duration was much swifter.

Not that I didn’t cry a bit when I brought my two rocks back from Spain home to Oregon. But they were from my beach day the day after the transfer. I have been carrying them with me through the 2 week wait. Then I added the hearts. And Monday I will pass them on to someone else.

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I don’t need keepsakes. I just needed to take a moment to say, Yes we tried. Thank you. We will still wait to see what our future holds.

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aftermath

I managed to sleep three times, each time for 3 hours. 

In so many ways, I am in a much better position that I was the other two negatives.  I have an exciting plan ahead of me (travel, international move back to a country I love, starting a new business etc) and I know I have 2 embryos on ice that I can come back for in Spain next year when I save up money.

Logically it will be easier not to juggle a pregnancy during the first year of business.

But my heart has never hurt as bad as this time.  It scares me how bad it hurts.  I know stats don’t work this way, but donor eggs are suppose to have the highest odds possible for  IVF.  We have done 3 rounds, the last with 2 embryos.   I just feel like maybe there is something wrong with me.. that I should have researched the clinic better… that I should have been more proactive about something. 

I just went with the flow to make my stress levels lower. And now I doubt that. 

It just feels so cruel. How with this one blow I want it even more, but also feel that this is yet another sign that I have to start building a life that at its core can be “good enough” so fulfil me as a non-parent.  My friends back home keep asking, “what about adoption” and I just don’t know how to tell them that the odds are even lower for me when it comes to that. We don’t have the money and I almost feel like I would need to move back to the USA to make that work, and that would require me to give up starting up my own business right now.  The states just looks too hard to do what I want to do.

The word never just is on repeat in my head… when will I accept that this is never going to happen. 

I can’t help it.  Its been there since I was 19… but never as loud as this.

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5 minute intervals

I feel asleep and it was heaven, but the I was woken up at 3 and I just sit as wave after wave hits me. 

I look at the clock now and then.. Another 5 minutes passed.

Part of me just wants this night to be over… Part of me just can’t bare the thought of morning arriving.

I am so bored…  But nothing meets the bar for being worthy enough to do.   And as exhausted as I am, I know sleep won’t come.

Yup.. Another 5 minutes passed as I wrote this.

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Public holidays = delays

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{ My little happy corner where there is no packing debris and only happy objects}

So I was sitting here feeling a bit proud that I made it to the eve of the Beta in one piece. I have packed most of my house in the last few days.  My new business website is nearly ready to go live (if only I could get the bloody trademark office website to work for me…sorry, I guess I am not all zen about everything…).  And over all, I have had more good days than freak out days these past two weeks.

I even had a moment of thinking, oh look tomorrow my husband isn’t working, he can go with me to the beta.

But uh.. no.

I finally got around to going to checking, and yes, the lab will very much be closed tomorrow.  Labor day means no beta for me tomorrow.

So Friday it is.  I get one more day not to fret and to just be.  It is strange, for me as I approach the beta I get calmer and calmer, but earlier on I am a mess… a  sloppy, mood swinging, super-mess!

But at the moment I really am not fretting much.  I know when I leave Italy. I know that I am already pregnant or not by now.  I feel much better physically than last cycle (in which I felt basically 2 weeks of PMS cramps, bloating and general pain) and more than anything I have just felt happy for the last 2 days.

We will see.   Thanks to everyone who is reading along with me!

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Support in surprising places

Last week my husband and I were talking about passwords with a friend. Yes, that internet breech that sparked a lot of talk, and sadly not enough action, but I have a house to pack and an international move to coordinate at the moment! Many of my accounts are going to be closed soon anyway…

But I digress.

He said, “I really love your circle blah blah blah”  which following on from a rather ranchy conversation earlier in the evening, didn’t exactly sound right…

But then he elaborated. He was talking about this space and how much he loved the handle I choose for this space: Circlesbecomeme.

When I started blogging, I named my first blogger account Smiling Scar and called myself Clare.  Then I moved over to wordpress to have the option of password protecting some posts. An option I nearly never use, but still I wanted the option. So  when I made that move, I created a new handle for this space.  I updated the theme once too and lost the ability to use my own photo as the header without paying.

But him mentioning that he liked that little choice I made.. well it just made my day.

So many people have helped and supported me along this journey.   And what ever the beta results tomorrow, I know I will still be surrounded by love and support.

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What to do when waiting

I feel like I have been waiting awhile.  A year for the move to Italy to happen.  3 for the PhD to be over. For this limbo year to be done.

And now a few more days of a 2 week wait.

I leave Italy in less than a month.  I was starting to pack and that felt useful.  Turns out my boxes aren’t 10 kg as my husband confidently estimated.  Nope, they are more like 25 which means they all must be repacked.

These little minor setbacks are really hitting me hard.  Paralyzing me.  All I did today was passively watch tv and movies.  I just want to kill time. 

I feel guilty that I have 3 weeks in Italy and I wasted yet another one just hiding in bed.

THURSDAY should be the beta but it’s a public holiday here.  So I probably have to wait another day…

I was trying to tell a friend that I feel like I am walking towards my execution.  I obviously don’t mean that, but the cycle.. And the move… And my life of getting a paycheck from an agency instead of my new goal of working for myself…  Basically life as I know it is dramatically changing.  SOON.

And my friend just said, “you don’t think you are being just a bit dramatic there?!”

Of course I agreed verbally and apologized, while stealing myself against the tears, fuming at myself for so quickly denying what I feel, and willing myself to promise myself to never again mention how deeply shaken I am at the moment. 

But it doesn’t change how I feel and just how scared I am that all of this will ended up being  just an exercise to prove to myself that at least I tried. That  I let myself have a chance and was willing to really fight for it.

Oh this is going to hurt so much on Friday if it doesn’t work.  I have let it be more than my hopes for the future, but also all the things I have given up this past year to have this chance.

And what to do with myself for the next few days with all my closest friends here away on vacation.

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Number game and pronouns

My husband today summed up the cycle as, "we rolled the dice again."

And on so many levels this is true. It is a numbers game. Percentages and probabilities, emotional and financial costs, and of course the trade offs that come with balancing working towards multiple "futures" on multiple fronts and not feeling split.

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Spending a full four days in Spain before returning to ‘real life’ was great. I personally am so glad that I am not squeezing in this transfer between standard work week demands. I will always have a great four days with a dear friend to remember — even if this cycle doesn’t work.

But I also keep coming back to this moment where the biologist asked in Spanish whether I was okay with transfering two. It went something like

"we’d like to go ahead and transfer two frozen embryos, assuming you are willing to accept the possibility of twins"

I had always told myself the eSET was the right choice for me. And yet, here I was saying yes two putting two in. I know so many of the risks and joys that could entail. Of course I accept them….

Mostly I associate joy with twins. I have been a key back up adult for one mom with twins and consider her kids nephews. I envy some of my adult friends and their connection to their twin given how my brother and I dearly love each other but don’t really know what to do with each other.

I also am nervous. I have had many twins on my caseload as a person who works in disability services. I have watched friends weather NICU stays and worse. I have taken lots of early childhood histories from families that include one off lines like "Well K. was the surviving triplet" and then the mother just keeps pouring out the story for me without even a moment for me to catch my breath at the profoundness of what I was just told.

So I try to just relax and think

"please stay with me.. I welcome you. I hold you. I already am starting to love you"

each time I touch my belly.

And I love that in English I just can say you without worrying about whether my heart or mind has a preference. I don’t want to wish for one or two. I don’t want to mark the mixed feelings. There is no vostros, vostras, or voi. There is just you.

I wait for you