The Struggle with Infertility

So, we have been trying since March to get pregnant again. I have become Clomid resistant, so this past cycle we used a drug called Letrozole. It worked, and I had one good follicle. We did IUI in June, and today I got the results. It was an unsuccessful cycle. Not pregnant. Still. This time around it feels all the more painful to hear the news. When we were trying to get pregnant with Sawyer we had two failed cycles, and while they were not happy moments, I had a much more positive outlook on the whole situation. With Sawyer we got pregnant on our first IUI cycle, and I was responding really well to Clomid.

This failed cycle just deflated me. We are going back to Williamsburg this weekend, and I hope that will help me move past this failed cycle and be more optimistic about trying again. I think it is just getting me down because I see all of these stories of people who hurt their children, or teenagers having babies, and I just don't fucking get it. I did everything right, and all I got was heartache. There are all of these people in my life who have no fucking problem getting pregnant and popping out babies, and here I am: getting blood drawn up to five times in a week, taking medicine that is meant for breast cancer, having a wand up my vagina almost every time I go to the office, and using these awful progesterone suppositories all in the hopes of getting pregnant again. Then, if it does work, I'll have a whole new set of hurdles. Make it through the first trimester, get a cerclage, be monitored frequently to make sure my cervix is not funneling, maybe bed rest...

This just sucks. Every time I see someone with a baby (like my neighbor), my heart hurts. Every time I go through this process again, my heart takes a roller coaster ride.

Treading Water

This has not been the greatest May. Mother's Day was especially hurtful, and I did my best to keep off of social media, and to stay away from people. I did not want to see or be around other people's happiness, and at the same time, I did not want my sadness to cloud their day. On top of it all, fertility treatments have not been going well. It appears that Clomid, which worked so well when we got pregnant with Sawyer, is no longer working with my body. Part of it is my lack of success in losing weight. Part of it is that women with PCOS sometimes become Clomid resistant.

This sucks. I was hoping to be pregnant again by now, but it appears that it will be an even longer road to having another baby. People at work keep asking me about my friend's baby. While I am happy for her on her third happy, healthy child, I don't really care to talk about it. It is still a raw wound, and hearing people rave about how cute her baby is, or ask me have I met him, feels like all of the salt of the Pacific Ocean is being dumped into that wound. If I keep "unfollowing" people on Facebook, there will only be three people left for me to see.

Lately the thought that keeps running through my head is that I don't really feel purposeful anymore. Nor do I feel any real joy. Well, enough depression for today. Back to work, and back to fertility treatments, and back to wondering if I will ever really feel good again.

6 months

It has been six months since Sawyer died. Six months since my world was turned upside down. Sawyer has been dead longer than I was pregnant with him. It is a heart-wrenching thought. I think of what life should be like right now. I should have a chubby two month old, not a son who has been dead for six months. Instead, I keep trucking on, thinking at some point things have to get a little better. I am still angry and bitter with the universe and its cruelty. I am jealous of my two friends getting ready to welcome their little boys into the world. Nothing really feels better, I think I am just getting better at faking it.

the world is still spinning

I made a mistake today. I had blocked any of my pregnant friends/family members from my Facebook feed almost immediately after Sawyer died. My curiosity got the better of me today and I looked at a friend's page. She only has a month to go, and my heart feels like it is ripping out of my chest again. I am happy for her, but I felt that surge of bitterness and anger rise up like bile again. Why did this happen to us? Why do other people get to have blissfully ignorant and innocent pregnancies? Why is my son in a box on a shelf when people like my 14 year old student get to bring a baby into this world that they are ill-equiped to take care of? As the song in our musical this year says "Life is random and unfair, life is pandemonium!"

Some days I feel like I have found my footing. I am a baby loss mom, and that is my new reality and the new me. I spend my days with other people's children, and I make the best of what I have. I like to think that I am imparting on them what I would have imparted on Sawyer. Be kind to people, accept them for who they are, and remember that life is short, enjoy the moments you have. I have a loving husband, and fantastic siblings and cousins who support me. I have some truly amazing friends, and some who have decided that they can't handle this new sad me. I feel strong most days, but other times I feel like I am just stumbling around in the dark. Whenever a coworker discusses their children I have to pretend it is not a knife in my heart. I cannot help but stare at the bellies of pregnant women I see, but I also can't help but divert my eyes from baby carriers and infants.

I still have to lose some weight before returning to the fertility doctor, my goals have been washed away by my stress eating. The amount of stress I am feeling right now is so overwhelming that is feels easier to just pretend the outside world doesn't exist on a day like today. Hiding in my house with a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies is much better. I find it harder to have the will power I did before I got pregnant with Sawyer. I want so bad to get pregnant again, but sometimes chocolate is truly the only thing that makes me feel better. I wish I was the type of person who used exercise to feel better, but in reality I have always viewed it as a punishment (I am going to blame my 6th grade gym teacher and the Presidential fitness test for that.) I am going back to the gym this Monday. I am hoping that Dr. K will agree that if I shed the necessary pounds (about 9) by the time my cycle starts in March that we can give a Clomid cycle and IUI a try.

I have tried to take my mind off of the fertility game again by focusing on remodeling our house. We can't really afford a loan, so we are doing it piece by piece, but every little thing we change makes me feel better somehow. I think maybe it is that I have a finished product to look forward to that I am not anxious about losing. No matter how long it takes, there will be a new product when we are finished. The prospect of getting pregnant again feels much more daunting. If it happens, will we tell people? Will the cerclage work? What type of cerclage will I get? Will I be able to keep my anxiety in check? I guess I should stop thinking too far ahead and just focus on losing the weight and getting back to trying. Fingers crossed that March is our month to start trying again.

**I am also going to make an effort to write here more often, sometimes I forget how cathartic writing what I am feeling can be.

2013-2014

Tomorrow is my 30th birthday. I was so excited that I would be celebrating my birthday and the birth of our son around the same time. I was thrilled that Sawyer and I would have close birthdays. I am crushed that this is not the case. All of these people are posting on Facebook about what a good year 2013 was for them and how they are excited for 2014. I thought 2014 was going to be the best year of my life. Now I just can't believe that this is my life. 2013 started as a fantastic year. When we found out in April that the IUI had worked I was over the moon. I was cautious, we waited until we hit 10 weeks before telling people, but it was a nice secret to keep. I spent the summer having a great pregnancy, hanging with family, and looking forward to this next phase of our lives. September made this the worst year of my life. Sawyer's death has rocked me to my core. I am not the same person I was on September 3rd.

Christmas was hard. I couldn't help but think that I should still be pregnant. It made it that much harder to see my nieces and nephews playing together. Sawyer will never truly be a part of this. Both Colin and I have been having trouble with the holidays, not just because they are a reminder of what we lost, but because Sawyer's due date was so close to these holidays. We had originally planned to go to Colin's parent's house on Christmas after spending Christmas Eve with my family. The original plan changed, and Colin and I decided we just couldn't go. His parents were understanding, but one of his relatives sent him a message trying to guilt him into coming. They had the nerve to say that we weren't the only ones having a hard year, basically implying that we were being selfish for not coming to Christmas. It took everything I had not to send a message back. We are grieving for our son, we have every right to be selfish as we navigate these new waters. The message completely changed Colin's demeanor on Christmas Eve, and ruined what had started as an okay night for us.

Yesterday I started my new tests at the fertility doctor. I still need to lose weight, I have not been doing very well with sticking to my clean eating over the break. I will keep working at it. I can only hope that in the next month I can get down to the weight I need to be in order for them to start IUI. I am hoping that we can have another baby before 2014 is over, and maybe salvage what is starting out as the worst of years. I know that if we do get pregnant again it won't be an easy road--I will need to get a cerclage, there is possible bed rest in the future, and I will have to deal with the anxiety of knowing that just getting past the first trimester does not mean you will take a living baby home--but I want this badly.  So, as much as I would like a time machine--I wish I could go back and tell myself to demand the doctor at maternal fetal medicine take a closer look, and then demand a cerclage---I have to look forward. I am hopeful that this new year will be better than the last four months have been.

The workaholic returns

It has been a while since I posted, mostly because I am back to being completely overwhelmed by work. Grading and lesson planning take up most of my free time. Sometimes it is a good thing, it helps me not to think too much about what this time of year was supposed to mean for us this year. All of these people are talking about what they are grateful for, and how "blessed" they are. I really just want to write "fuck you" on all of their Facebook posts. Bah-fucking-hum-bug!! I am not decorating for Xmas, it all seems particularly irritating this year. I was supposed to be waiting for Sawyer's arrival, not pretending I am excited about watching someone else open a present. I am going to go through the motions, presents for the nieces and nephews (because my miserableness is not their fault and I like buying them books every year,) and dinner with the siblings- because they have been there for me, but I honestly just want this season to be over. I want to wake up and have it be February or March. I want to be past Sawyer's due date. Another reason I would like to speed time up is that the fertility doctor told me he wants to wait until February or March to start treatments again. It took all I had not to cry in his office. So I am trying not to let it get me down too much, but that coupled with the fact that I should be impossibly pregnant right now instead of mourning my son, have me in a particular state of Scrooge-ness. I hate this, and I can't escape it.

So my goals until February or March:
1. Lose more weight, I am down about ten pounds, but I certainly need to lose more.
2. Try on our own to get pregnant, practice makes perfect right?
3. Find meditation or something else non-medicinal that will help me with my anxiety.
4. Stop beating myself up for being sad, I am allowed to still be sad, if other people don't like it, fuck'em.
5. Spend time with the friends who have made time for me in my new state of being. I love my monthly dates with Holly, and I hope we keep them up for the rest of our adult lives.
6. Make Sawyer's place in our home more permanent by framing his picture and finishing his memory box. I want people who come to our home to know we have a son. He may not be alive, but he is our son- he deserves to be recognized as such.

So come on February and March! I truly do hope that other people enjoy the holidays, but remember, not everyone is jolly right now, and sometimes your jolliness is just a reminder of what they are missing.

Drifting

What I should be doing right now--grading the mountain of papers in my bag, or planning for tomorrow's lessons, or doing laundry for our trip to Ocean City this week. I don't feel like doing any of these things. Don't get me wrong, I am excited about Ocean City (not so much the grading and planning,) but I am having trouble staying focused. I feel like my grief and anxiety are waves in the ocean, and they wash ashore, sweeping away the clarity in my mind. Things that help are 1) watching something on TV that requires little thought, 2) talking to my husband about his job, because I don't understand any of it, and 3) eating dark chocolate with sea salt in it (calms me right down.) Another thing that has helped me lately is thinking about the the ways I have changed since Sawyer passed. So here is my "things that are different" list:

1. I rarely laugh for real anymore. I don't know why, but even things that were once hilarious, only seem mildly funny now. Perhaps my sense of humor will return at some point, but what is left is down right dark.

2. I have no room for other peoples grief. Perhaps this too will change, but for right now, mine is too big for me to make space for anyone else's grief.

3. I have zero tolerance for bratty teenagers. Put your life in perspective, losing a fucking sporting event or having your phone taken away is NOT the worst thing that could happen. It really is enough to make me scream.

4. I am becoming a militant atheist. I used to be an apathetic atheist. Fine, believe what you want to believe. But why should religious people get to be the only pushy ones? If they can tell me that I should believe in some magical sky parent, why can't I tell them he doesn't exist. That their lives really aren't that significant, and that there is no paradise waiting for them. P.S. Why do you need a book and a magical sky parent to tell you to be a good person or you will burn in hell? Why not be a good person because it is the right thing to do? Douche bags. People have asked before how I can look at the world an not believe in a god. The first time I truly questioned the idea of a loving creator was when my grandmother (who was the most important person to me) was diagnosed with alzheimer's disease. A woman who had devoted her life to God and her family was doomed to forget the very people she loved most. When she forgot my name, I forgot why I ever believed in a god in the first place. Now, I am even more certain that life is random, and bad shit happens to good people, and there is no rhyme or reason, or master plan. Sawyer did not die for a reason, he died because I had an infection, my body worked against us both, and life is really fucking shitty sometimes.

5. My fandom obsessions are growing. I used to keep my love of all nerdy things hidden from most people, except for Colin since he has to live with me and see all of the nerdiness. The reality is I love Dr. Who, and The Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter, and Supernatural, and The Vampire Diaries, and its spin-off The Originals. I love them all.

6. My brain can really only handle young adult novels right now. I think because they won't typically have my type of loss in them. Other than those, any books that support my idea that religious people are crazy sheep also appeal to me.

7. I have never been a big fan of hugging, but now I like it even less. Get away from me, especially if it is an "I'm so sorry" hug.

8. I don't need my mother. This has been building for some time, but has become more obvious to me since Sawyer died. She is no longer the woman who raised me, she is a petty woman with a drug addiction and mental illness. She refuses to get professional help, instead relying on a religious leader to  counsel her. I thought that in my time of excruciating pain I would miss her, but I don't. I am determined to tend to my own garden, and she can tend to hers.

Just some random info about the new me. Settling into this new skin is painful and I am not sure I like the new me, but for right now I will make my way through it. I am looking forward to Thanksgiving in Ocean City. I am still dreading Christmas and my birthday. I wish Colin and I could afford a trip to someplace during that time where no one knows us. Nothing about the holidays seems joyful this season.