Yearly Questions

I had my yearly appointment this week and it was the first time since the post pregnancy visit a year ago that my feet were once again in the stirrups.  It was very quick and completely ordinary and it was truly wonderful to look to the side and see my little man throwing toys on the floor in his stroller oblivious to my exam.

I've always found some comfort (along with a healthy dose of discomfort) at my OB's office.  Not since I was a kid did I have a regular doctor and even as an adult, with 6 years of REs, I would always laugh off the question with a "Well, if you consider an infertility doctor a regular doctor..."  But an OB (and since I started going, have had about 3 different ones), is the one appointment where it is truly just about me, not me with a cold or me with a problem that needs to be fixed, just me and how I am doing.

Although, now that I type that, my year with a therapist would be just about me, but not really, that was still about a few problems that I needed to work out.  Anyway, once the "OMG, N is sooo cute!" was out of the way, my doctor turned and asked very specifically about me.  About how I was feeling.  Was I getting enough rest?  Working?  Keeping up with hobbies?  Traveling?  And I found that every single thing I said went right back to N.  And, rightfully so, he has been my entire planet for 13 months.  But, it made me realize that maybe I need to branch out a bit more.  I mean, to answer her questions...

- Sure, I get enough rest...but I can't fall asleep as early as N does and as much as I would love to sleep in one day,  it is impossible unless C is home.

- I'm not working now...but I am very fortunate not to have to go back to work right away and can stay home with my boy.  Although at times, I truly miss the grown up conversations and getting dressed up and having a commute to listen to my favorite podcasts and drink coffee when it is still hot and sometimes when I am changing a poopy diaper and taking the millionth load of laundry out of the dryer, I can't help but want to scream, "Is this all that I do??"

- I do try and keep up with some hobbies...but right now, most of my craft supplies are in a closet and it takes me about three times as long to finish anything and even if I try to work on something when N is clean and fed and playing happily by himself I feel like a horrible mother for ignoring him, when I should be reading to him and playing with him and taking his picture and teaching him how to talk and sing and dance and clean the kitchen and pull one more load out of the dryer.

- Oh sure we travel, just last year we went to San Francisco.  Oh wait, that was 2 years ago.  Sure we travel...but it is to visit out of state family who are missing N.  I can't remember the last time we went on a family vacation, but I do know we were a family of 2 then.

It was really nice to go to an appointment and not hear, "Hope I see you pregnant next year!"  It was nice to be in the stirrups for something as ordinary as pap.  And it was really nice to be the one with the cute baby in the stroller throwing things on the floor.

I expect that next year will be a nice visit too and I'm going to be spending the year working on being there with less buts.

Finishing a 5k (Just not the way I thought)

I found myself tonight checking in on a blogger friend and realized that I haven't updated my own blog in a few weeks. I guess I have been busy, I'm not sure I have a whole lot to show for it, but I am checking things off my to-do list and constantly adding more.

In the "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him about your plans" category, I am going to the doctor tomorrow to check out my foot which has been hurting me for a few weeks now. I mentioned that since January, C and I have been training for a 10k. It was something I've wanted to do for a while and something I really wanted to do before we jumped into another round of IVF. Training had been going really well until a few weeks ago when I think I jumped ahead too fast and got a stress fracture in my right foot. At the time I didn't know what it was and chalked it up to the normal aches and pains of running. It seemed to hurt right away at the start of a run, subside for the duration and then hurt fiercely when I was done.

Last week, which was two days before a 5k that we had also signed up for, I completed my first 5k run on a treadmill at the gym. I was thrilled and since it was so late and I had no one to tell, I celebrated with strangers at the front desk of my gym. Celebrating with strangers while drinking a huge glass of ice water at 11pm at night was a life highlight* for me, since I was truly bursting with pride at completing the run. I was also a little nervous since I was limping out of the gym from the pain in my foot, with a 5k looming in two days and a 10k just two weeks after that.

The limping continued until last Saturday when we woke up early to get to the race. But adrenaline and excitement distracted me and I was determined to finish. It was a huge thrill to get in line with hundreds of other people. It was amazing to see the sea of people ahead of me as the race started and then find my stride as I settled in to the familiar, if not exact, pace I was comfortable with on the treadmill. I laughed when I thought "they must not be doing mile markers because surely we've gone a mile by now," only to see that first mile marker coming up in a few hundred feet. My foot hurt. It hurt like always, came on strong at the beginning of the run and then settled into a low throb throughout. I didn't care. I was feeling pretty awesome. I felt more like a runner than I ever had in my life. Around the 2 and 1/2 mile mark, we could see that a huge, but gradual hill was going to get us to the finish line. I started to psych myself out. I had opportunities to stop and walk during the first 2 and 1/2 miles and didn't take them, I could do this. I could finish. Man, my foot hurt. I had almost no air left in my lungs. I had turned into a wheezing, moaning wimp who was running out of the adrenaline to run through the pain and get to the finish line. Halfway up the hill and with less than 1/2 mile to go, I started to walk. I can still picture the moment where I decided to (had to?) walk. I still wonder if I could have made it. My foot was throbbing. My breath came hard and fast. I could still smile at C, who reached to hold my hand because he knew how bummed I was. When we could see the finish line we started to run again. I knew I wanted to cross that finish line at a running pace. We did. The music blared. The crowd cheered. I drank gatorade and waited for my results to post. Even though we walked for a bit, I still beat my personal best by over a minute. The personal best that I made just two days before. But, I could barely walk. I limped to the car. I limped into the house. I vowed to take it easy all week, pick up training the next week and then run at least 5k of the upcoming 10k and do my best (walk, jog, run) with the rest.

Instead, I am going to the doctor. If anything my foot has been worse this week. I have the top 4 symptoms of a stress fracture and while I don't trust Dr. Google 100%, all signs are pointing this way. A boot? Maybe. 6 weeks of no running? At the minimum. 10k? Not even walking. Another round of IVF? I think I should listen to what my body is trying so hard to tell me. Slow down. Rest. Recover. Enjoy what is right in front of you.

Enjoy what is right in front of you. Tomorrow N and I are meeting up with family for a picnic. I'll be the one limping. Smiling and enjoying what is right in front of me.

*Another life highlight for me came that same week, when I sat in a lawn chair on a gorgeous afternoon cuddled with N sharing a pummelo (Best. fruit. Ever!). It was one of those moments I could feel etching on my brain as it was happening.

No and it is OK.

I should have known. I always did know. It is OK. It was hard not to hope though. My period wasn't late, but man I did not feel good. Turns out a crazy stomach bug was taking over Virginia (and other states to be sure) and I took over my stomach for a very long weekend.

I'm not pregnant.

I was super suspicious that I was though. Waking up nauseous is always a sign we cling to. My level of exhaustion was at astronomical levels. Losing 7 pounds over a weekend should have pointed more to the stomach flu, but every morning that I woke up nauseous and every night when I threw up, I would look at my husband and say "Could it be?"

Nope.

I know better. I know it took 6 years to have our beautiful son. I know I laughed when my mom said "maybe it is all the running you are doing?" Nope, my 2012 New Year's Resolution to run a 10K is not the cause of my past 6 years of infertility. And then there was the part of me that felt tremendous sadness about the 5 frozen embies we have. If I was, by some major miracle, pregnant naturally, what would become of my frozen embies? All of a sudden I missed them and the potential they hold.

I'm so curious about them. It is easy to talk about them in a medical sense. If we decide to do a frozen cycle, they will all be thawed, watched and then the best will be transferred in another IVF cycle. If possible, remaining good ones will be refrozen for another attempt. I know medically what will happen to them. But emotionally I look at my son, who will be a year(!) old next week, and I wonder about his siblings. His siblings that I guess could be considered twins in a way, all put together on the same day. He was chosen, the others frozen and waiting. I miss them. I long for them. Or her? Or him? There is no way to know if one or three or all five would survive the thaw. Would it attach? Would I carry another miracle full term? Can I be the mother of two? Could I be so lucky? Could I be more arrogant that these embies are just waiting for me to say, "Ok. Now."? That I can just snap my fingers and pick a date and stick my feet in the stirrups and get pregnant.

I know it doesn't work that way. That $4,000 for a frozen cycle just buys me a chance. That 5 frozen embies means nothing if they don't make it. IVF was so hard. I know a frozen cycle is easier, but it is still hard. It is hard to stab yourself in the leg or the abdomen or the butt every day. It is hard to open your fridge and see stacks of drugs staring you in the face when you just want some orange juice. It scares me to start that process up again. To stare face to face with a box of drugs knowing that you will use almost everything in there. All the supplies are for you and for you alone. Even if C holds my hand or even plunges the needle, it is still going into my leg. The hormones, the exhaustion, the frustration and even the anger. I'm worried about how that goes during a frozen cycle. Is it easier or harder to know that if it doesn't work, that this is it? I know I don't have it in me for another fresh cycle. If we can't get pregnant with the embies we have, we are all done.

I'm so curious about those embies. They hold our future in their frozen cocoons.

We can't help but wonder

Hope.

Pray.

Plead.

Friday morning started like any other. C was already long at work when N woke up to start our day. We had breakfast and played in the den and when he went down for a nap, I headed to the laundry room to finish up a load. All of a sudden I felt an overwhelming urge to lay down and/or throw up. As I laid on the couch, hoping that N would stay asleep until my husband got home, I rocked back and forth under our biggest blanket fighting back chills and willing myself not to throw up. It lasted for hours.

C got home and saw me huddled under a blanket and started what would be his weekend of taking care of me, N and the house. 7pm rolled around and although I hadn't eaten much more than a few bites of soup, I felt the overwhelming urge to vomit and jumped over baby toys and scrambled up the den stairs to just barely make it to the toilet. Admittedly, I felt a little better after that, but still physically exhausted and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, first on the couch and then in our bed.

I woke up early with the boys Saturday morning and still felt weak and vomity, but I wanted to help and got up to change our boy while C got a bottle ready. As soon as I got the diaper off, the overwhelming urge to throw up came over me and I yelled for C as I booked to the bathroom. I spent Saturday much like Friday, tossing and turning on the couch while trying to eat bites of toast and ice pops.

C was awesome and ran errands with N and took care of everything we both needed. It reminded me of how often he stepped right up during our years of infertility when I just couldn't do it.

By Saturday night, I was feeling slightly better and was able to sleep without all the tossing (neither my body nor my cookies). I spent the day today alternating short bouts of energy with moments of sheer exhaustion and a weak stomach. By the end of today, it was hard to tell if my nausea was from a stomach bug or from the fact that I hadn't eaten since Friday morning or...

it couldn't be pregnancy? Could it? Is it just too much to hope for? Am I being silly? Naive?

The Sleep.ys Mattress commercial made me cry twice today. So did the end of Defending Your Life this afternoon. And Innerspace (sick days mean lots of movie watching). And right now, Cary El.wes horrible accent on Law and Order SVU is making me want to cry.

It is possible. My period is not late yet, but the timing would be right. Why does it always happen like that? Just vague enough to give us hope.

Smiling Through Clenched Teeth

Here is that post where I talk about a younger cousin who just announced her second pregnancy.

It is that gut punch of an announcement that would have brought me to tears a year and a half ago and now just brings me to a stomachache. It is that half sad, and a little bigger half jealous and frustrated ache. Especially over the fact that my chance at #2 involves $4,000 and enormous amounts of stress and pain.

The announcement came over the phone via the family grapevine and the ease of the telling of the news made me feel like she just snapped her fingers and got pregnant, which may or may not be the case. Either way, the green monster showed up in me as quickly as I could muster the words, "good for her!"

That stomachache lingers as I wish her a happy and healthy pregnancy. That stomachache lingers as I think about my challenges for something that seemed to come so very easy for her. That stomachache lingers as I wonder if I'll ever make that announcement and that stomachache lingers as I think about all the women that are still trying for #1.

It was that same, so familiar ache as my period showed up on Saturday, crushing yet again our hopes for a natural, surprise pregnancy. Just when I thought I came to terms with that red stripe on the toilet paper signaling another failed cycle, the gut punching and stomachaches start again as more friends and family announce that #2, or even #3 is on the way.

I hate this. I hate IF, but at the same time, IF brought me N. And he is the greatest person I ever grew.

P.S. I'm still running. Week 3 of training. The 10K is coming up FAST and I'm going to train today (maybe now is a good time). It could be just the thing I need.

New sneakers and a 5 dollar app do not a runner make

But, it's a start. Tonight C and I decided to sign up for our local city's 10K coming up at the end of March. The idea of running a 10K is daunting to be sure, but the occasional zum.ba class is just not doing much for my jiggle.

So, with my new sneakers on my feet and my iPh.one in my pocket I stepped on the treadmill and started up the couch to 10K app...

Now of course, after not taking more than a handful of zum.ba classes since N was born, I was feeling more than a little awkward on the treadmill. I promptly knocked my water bottle on the floor trying to put it in the cup holder and yanked the earbuds out of my ear trying to adjust my music. And just when I was feeling most aware of my various body parts flopping around me, the skinniest, tannest, most short short wearing Runner got on the treadmill next to me.

Of course.

But, I pressed on and ignored the Runner and her pace that doubled mine at my fastest. I finished the first day of training and I'm feeling pretty good. A little achy, a little tired, pretty hungry, but feeling good about what I am trying to do for my body. I'm doing it for a few reasons.

First, I totally miss my pre-IVF body. You know the one, where I thought was overweight when I weighed 40 lbs less than I do now. I want to do this for my DH, to have extra energy for him after a day chasing N. I need the energy and flexibility and strength to chase N since every day he gets stronger and faster and more motivated to break down the barriers that we have in place. And now, after a call to my IVF coordinator, I need the energy to gear up for a frozen transfer later this spring.

N will be the most amazing older brother. C and I believe we are not done growing our family and with 5 frozen embies my heart overflows with the thought that we really could bring home another beautiful baby. It is my head that overflowed with all the emotions that come with starting this process all over again.

This is why the 10K seems like a great idea. Another mountain to climb, but this one is all for me. To cross a new finish line and get ready to start another race.

And then it came to me...

My New Years resolution came to me yesterday.

Have you ever seen Geor.ge Carl.in's Stuff routine? I found myself watching it the other day and while I definitely get why it is funny and certainly the audience is laughing, this time I felt uncomfortable. I have too much stuff. We all have too much stuff. Stuff. Even the word was bugging me.

I want less stuff. I want to be in control of the stuff I have. And I don't want to bring in any new stuff until my old stuff is taken care of.