You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch

Let's just get it out of the way right now:  I'm sick, and I'm not pregnant. 

I'm much more upset about the second one than the first, as it means we will end this year the same way we began it.  That's a really hard pill for me to swallow.  Seriously?  Ugh. Double ugh.  It also means that next month, we will have been trying as long as it takes to make a baby in the first place.

The first one caused the cancellation (optimistically, the postponement) of our annual Christmas party. 

I have to say thank you though to all of you who took time to say a little prayer for us.  I've felt your prayers.  Maybe that's silly; although it may not seem like it based on my writing above, I do have more peace about our "no" this month than I have in the past.  It's a set back, but not a complete, knock-the-wind-out-of-me sock in the gut like it has been. 

This waiting is so hard.  I can't adequately find words to describe how challenging this chapter has been.  There are so many worse things, so I suppose my "hard" chapter is what many would call priviledged.  It's not the loss of a child.  It' not a sick or hungry child.  I would take this over those things any day of the week.  Forever.

But the ache.  The wanting.  The rollercoaster of hope and denial.  It's maddening. 

Even as I write this, I'm still holding on to the slim chance that this might be impantation bleeding.  I'm 98% sure this round is over, but oh, that 2%.  It's why I take my coffee decaf.  It's why, even though I feel awful, I won't take any NyQuil when I go to bed tonight.  I'd never, ever gamble that 2% chance.  So I'll go to bed tonight without any medicine, and in 2 days when it's solidly over, I'll feel like an idiot that I didn't just take the meds since it wasn't any harm to anybody. 

This is a crazy way to live, month after month.  Without any definitive end in sight.   

I'm not complaining - not really, anyway.  I'm just sharing the reality.  I don't know how people do this for years on end, except that I know, having had Leah, that it will all be worth it.  I'm just so ready that it is painfully hard to wait.

September.  I'm optimistic that we're getting a September baby.  I've been wrong before, and maybe I'm destined to be wrong again, but I've felt this pull about September literally since before we started trying.  I was stunned when I got pregnant in August, because I expected September.  I lost both babies in September.   There's something about it that just fits.

Or, I'm just a trying-to-get-pregnant junkie.  Like the gambler who, despite losing each hand, continues to believe in just one more.

In this case, though... what else is there?

The one where I compare having a baby to winning the lottery

The most interesting part of my journey over the past many months has been coming to terms with people's opinions about our situation. 

It's funny how people respond when I tell them about my miscarriage.  Mostly, they don't think it's a big deal - I get a lot of it just wasn't meant to be-s and Relax!  It'll happen when it's time-s.  Although I know that people truly mean well, it's hard to explain just how isolating and invalidating these comments are. 

It's just that, if you haven't experienced trouble getting pregnant, it is extremely hard to relate. 

So I was trying to think of an analogy that might be appropriate and relatable.

Imagine that you play the lottery.  One day, by some miracle, your numbers come up!  You've won millions!  You're elated, extatic!  In an instant, your entire future has changed, just like that.

But when you go to claim the prize, you discover one tragic fact: you can't find the ticket.  At first, it's no big deal.  You're sure you'll find it.  You check everywhere you can think of: the pockets of your jeans, your wallet, the deep, dark recesses of your purse, the glove compartment of the car.  Feeling a little aggravated but still completely confident that you'll find it eventually, you check less likely places: under the couch cushions, the trash in the bathroom, behind the washing machine, in that drawer of miscellaneous junk every household seems to have. 

No luck. 

As the days and weeks go by, your confidence in finding the ticket begins to fade, and frustration, disbelief and disappointment set in in their place. 

To add insult to injury, someone puts up a billboard advertising the unclaimed millions.  A billboard you have to see each and every time you drive to work, to and from lunch, and home again.  Without fail, every time you look at that billboard, you get a sick feeling in your gut reminding you of what you almost had; what you still could have if you could only find that darn ticket!

Now, you might decide to stare straight ahead, blocking out everything but the road each time you pass the billboard.  You might tell yourself not to think about it.  You might even take the long way home just to avoid that stupid billboard.  Either way, you can't get around the knowledge that the only reason you're doing those things is to avoid being reminded of them in the first place, which, of course, makes you think about it all over again. 

With millions of dollars at stake, would you give up looking for the ticket?  Of course not!  You'd turn over every stone, sort through every piece of trash, jump at each and every measly scrap of paper that even kind of resembles the ticket.  Because each piece of paper could be the piece of paper. 

And you'll do this forever.  The only way to end the cycle is either a) find the ticket or b) come to the genuine conclusion that you wouldn't have been better off with those millions after all.   

The only flaw I see in this analogy is that, in the case of a lottery winner, everyone is going to sympathize.  We can all imagine how we would feel and react in that circumstance.  People would turn out in droves to help find the lost ticket - some out of genuine care for the person who lost it, others for their own selfish hope of being rewarded with a part of the prize; either way, the result is the same.  You've got loads of people to lean on who will thoroughly lament the injustice of the whole situation.   

Can you imagine someone saying, well, I guess it just wasn't meant to be!  Play again when the time is right! 

Um, yeah.  Didn't think so. 

So there you have it.  That's a little glimpse into the fabulous world of trying - and failing - to get pregnant. 

I don't say any of this with judgement.  None of it is directed at any one person, or even any group of people.  I feel extremely grateful to have had so many offer such shows of support, and I know that none of it comes with the intent of hurt feelings. 

Just know that, like having lost out on millions in the lottery, this isn't something that is easy to let go of.  It's not something I can just relax about or suddenly be okay with.  Like anyone who is hurting for whatever reason, sometimes it's better to acknowledge that certain things in life just hurt, and there isn't anywhere to go with it but on.  And you know what?  It's okay.

December is THE month.

Everybody say a little prayer. 

Just stop what you're doing, close your eyes, and talk to God.  

I mean, if you want to, you can throw in something about world peace, or ending hunger, cancer, the inexplicable run of Jersey Shore and any other societal ailments you can think of. 

But while you're at it, say a little prayer that we get one of these next month:

Because I'm making a prediction: December is our month.  Yep. 

So I'm praying that my will is in line with God's on this particular subject.  I've prayed for patience, acceptance, endurance, faith and all those other things.  Now I'm praying that we can put an end to this  rollercoaster.  I'm praying that this is in His plan.  And I'm re-kindling my optimism, which has taken some pretty big hits over the past 7 months. 

You've heard the song, all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth?  I'm asking for two lines.  Two little lines.  Followed immediately, of course, by 9 months of healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby.  I mean... it's not so much to ask. 

Right?

C'mon, December. 

Where am I?

I didn't get two lines this month.  On my ovulation tests, that is.

Ever. 

They just wouldn't come up the way they were supposed to.  I'm not sure if that's still left-over side-effects from the miscarriage, or if it means I never ovulated, or what.  But, I tell you, it's maddening.    

Because of the wacky way that I ovulate, a pregnancy test isn't helpful until one week after I've missed my period. 

I was three days late.  Three days.  And now, something is going on down there.  Something that looks suspiciously like a monthly visitor I do not want to see. 

This is like a form of torture.  If I'm not going to get pregnant, fine.  But must I suffer through three days of waiting?  Three days of getting my hopes up, all the while trying desperately not to?  Knowing that with one spot of red in my underwear the whole thing will be torn away from me again? 

I know.  Patience.  Faith.  God's timing.  Patience again. 

But I'm all stocked up on patience, thanks.  It's time for a little instant gratification.  I know that people have it waay worse than me, so perhaps it's inappropriate for me to whine here on my little corner of the internet.  Maybe even at all. 

Call me weak.  Call me selfish.  Call me impatient.  Call me whatever you want. 

I'm ready.  Ready and waiting for this baby.  And tired of this endless cycle of praying and building myself up, trying not to hope and readying myself for the fall. 

Please, please, please.  Let this month be the month.  Please let our baby be ready for us, too.

A love letter to my body. Kind of.

Dear My Body,

I would like to thank you for always supporting me through the many grueling trials I've put you through over the years.  High school athletics?  We rocked it.  Learning to run distance instead of sprint?  You totally didn't let me down.  I let you go a little through college, but you rebounded nicely.  Then, of course, you had the enormous job of housing a person, and you held up like a champ.  You even bounced back (although you'll never be shaped quite the same) and look pretty cute in those jeans again.

Yep, you're pretty awesome.

I know I've been a little unkind to you recently, what with the whole not getting pregnant thing.  But I feel like we're on pretty good terms these days.  I thought we'd gotten to a good place.

Which is why I'm a little confused.  Are you trying to punish me?  I mean, hasn't anyone ever told you that it's not nice to tease someone by dangling something they really, really want in front of them when you have no intention of delivering? 

It's been two days without that all important, you're-not-pregnant monthly reminder.  I'm starting to get my hopes up.  Just a little.  If you could please make sure that this time they're not crushed, I'd really appreciate it. 

In exchange, I promise I'll only eat icecream twice a week, and I'll try really hard not to stretch you to capacity this time around.  Kay?

Love,
Me.

A little pregnancy math

***Disclaimer: I fully intend to talk about things like ovulation and cycle length, so if that's not your bag, or you're my father/father-in-law, it's time to turn away.

From the American Pregnancy Association:
Day 1: The first day of your menstrual flow is the beginning of your cycle.

Day 7: By day seven your egg is preparing to be fertilized by sperm.
Days 11-21: (based on 28-day cycle) Hormones in your body cause the egg to be released from the ovary around this time. This process is known as ovulation. The egg travels through the fallopian tube towards the uterus. If sperm penetrates the egg, the fertilized egg will attach to the lining of the uterus and begin to grow. If fertilization does not happen the egg breaks apart.
Day 28: Hormone levels drop around this day causing the lining of the uterus to be shed making up your menstrual flow.

It is important to realize that the first part of the menstrual cycle (before ovulation) is different in every woman and can even change from month to month. The variation usually occurs from 13 to 20 days long. The last half of the cycle is usually more similar for every women, because there are about 14 days from day of ovulation until the start of the next period. This is why women are encouraged to track their cycles and count back 14 days from their LMP to narrow down their most fertile time of the month.

Whew, glad we've all got that down.  This was your 9th grade health class-refresher course, in case you were wondering.

Two years ago, I was keeping track of my cycles in the hopes that we might start trying to get pregnant.  I discovered that my cycles are actually 25, not 28, days. 

In June 2009, my period started on June 1st.  Casey was out of town that year from around the 10th until somewhere between the 18th or the 20th.  It was during that trip that I finally convinced him to let us try twice to get pregnant, once in June and once in July.  After that conversation, I kicked myself, because - according to what we just read - no baby could possibly be conceived in that timeframe.  Remember: 14 days between ovulation and the start of the next period.  I had given myself roughly 6, maybe 8 days max. 

Of course, when he got back, we tried anyway.  That was the only time we tried. 

On July 3rd, I took a pregnancy test that was totally inconclusive - one line, but also not one line, meaning that on that particular day, my body was still registering the fact that I was pregnant.  Bear in mind, this would be on approximately the 32nd or 33rd day of my cycle.  In other words... waaaaaaay past when my period should have started.

Can somebody explain this to me?  Because according to everything I know about biology, we either had a milkman-conception situation while Casey was away, or my fertility and ovulation is allllllllll screwy.  (And, if you've spent any time looking at my daughter, she is clearly not a product of the milk man. Or Casey has a secret twin...)

I wasn't kidding when I called her my miracle baby!  I have no answer for how it is I came to be pregnant with her, except to say that she was always, always meant to be ours. 

It makes this time around that much more challenging.  How do you plan for something that doesn't seem to follow logic?

So this month, we're getting a little help:

Because, really, I can't figure out the math on our last successful conception. 

Keeping our fingers crossed that these little sticks will help us get those elusive two lines on that other little stick.  (Plus, you know... save $10 and all.  How could I resist?)  ;)

And so, round three begins!

Pity Party? Check.

Alright, I'll admit: it wasn't my finest hour.

It's not that I'm not ridiculously excited for the no less than seven people in the last two weeks - including two just yesterday, hence my melt-down - who have shared that they are newly expecting.  Because I am.  Truly.

And also a little green.  Not the green that results from morning sickness, the green that results from the fact that I am not experiencing any morning sickness.  At all.  I'm perfectly healthy and vomit-free.  Whatever water cooler you all are drinking from, it hasn't been shared with me.

So I did what any sensible girl would do when she feels like the world just doesn't have her back: I ate a bunch of junk food, went to Dairy Queen and watched a Harry Potter marathon on tv.  (Like I said - not my finest hour).

Casey knowingly advised me that it's just my frame of reference.  It happened so easily before, this just seems like a challenge.  Of course, I never thought of a miscarriage and nearly a year of mourning/worrying that I can't get pregnant as easy, but I do understand what he was getting at.  The mechanics of it were easy both times.  Or so I told myself as I shoveled Blizzard into my mouth. 

And then I talked to my grandma, who is currently in Hawaii.  It sounds nice, except that she's there with much of the rest of my family to spread my aunt's ashes.  She passed away in February after battling cancer.  My grandmother is the picture of kindness and generosity, and she was absolutely broken hearted about the task she had ahead of her.  She relayed to me that she's not sure she can fly home and leave her baby on the beach.  At the age of 80, she still feels the loss of her child as pogniantly as any mother can. 

It helped me to have a bit of perspective I recognize I should have had all along.

Patience was never, ever my strong suit.  Nor is coming to terms with the fact that I simply don't have any control or influence over something that I deeply long for.  I can't just work harder or aim a little higher or believe a little more and affect the outcome. 

All I can do - what I should be doing instead of feeling defeated - is focus on what I do have, and that list isn't insubstantial.  My so-called problems aren't really problems at all; just a blip in an otherwise beautiful and serene road.  

So thanks for hanging with me through that episode.  I am afraid that it may not be the last time I freak out and forget all the wonderful blessings I have in my life, and just how very priviledged and undeserving I am of having them to begin with. 

And because you do deserve it: to my seven beautiful friends who are soon to become mommies, CONGRATULATIONS!  I honestly couldn't be happier for you and the sheer magic that is coming your way.   (Actually, there might be room for another 3% of happy if you'd send me some of that water, kay??)

Besides... this girl was so worth the wait.

Another little miracle is worth it, too.

Oh me of little faith

Don't mind me.  I'm somewhere near the top today.

Remember when I said this?

Confession: When I wrote that, I was convinced that pretty much the next post I'd write would be to tell you that we're expecting.  Yes, I get that this sounds a bit cocky - no pun intended - but I've been pregnant twice before off of one-shot-wonders, neither of which should have ever actually happened. 

It's the getting pregnant part I'm good at, after all.  My success at carrying is only 50/50 - an F in academic terms - so it occurred to me to worry about the keeping the baby part, not the acquiring the baby part.

I'd really, really like to be that person, who writes about faith with confidence, patience and endurance. Who not only understands that God's timing is perfect, but also accepts it.

I have to admit that lately, I've been feeling a little faith-less.  Which, of course, only makes me more frustrated with myself.

I know that God already knows my baby - knows if it's a boy or a girl, the color of her eyes, the number of hairs on his head.  God knows its name and the exact moment that he or she will find its way into our lives. 

I can just see Him giving me that paternal pat on the head that says, "if you only knew the things I have in store for you!  I wish you wouldn't worry; just have a little faith, and you'll see."

I know that my baby is coming.  The baby that was always meant to have me as its mommy. 

I know too that my story doesn't hold a candle to some of the serious issues women face every day trying to get pregnant.  So really, the fact that I can't even stay positive for two months says something about me that I'd rather not analyze right now.

In a year or two, this little moment will seem so irrelevant.  Right now, it seems huge and daunting and eternal.

If faith can move mountains, my faith can't even move a grain of sand.  And that's just sad.

While I was waiting for you

Hoping for those two little pink lines

that would tell me you're there.

Longing to feel the swell of my belly

and watch the numbers on the scale rise.

Thub-thub-thubbing on a doctor's monitor

making me completely forget I'm in an uncomfortable position.

Little nudging on the inside

like a bubble bursting.

Being brave.

Being strong.

Talking to you in the car.

Daddy reading to you at night.

Teaching your sister how to be gentle

and just a little bit more grown up than she might be otherwise.

Knowing I have to be patient.

Knowing I'm not just waiting to be pregnant

I'm waiting on you.

Another perfect miracle.

Not just any baby.

My baby.

You're exactly the one we prayed for.

Exactly the one I've been praying for all my life.

And I know you're on your way.

If only I can wait.

Just a little more.

My Act of Faith

I got a few interesting comments about my trying to get pregnant post.

One of them shook me a little.  The gist of it was this:

Why are you telling everybody about this?  This is so personal!  Nobody wants to hear about your sex life!

And to that I have to reply: I have no intention of telling you about my sex life.  That is personal.

So why am I writing about trying to get pregnant? 

Because last time, I was all about the fear.  The worry.  The despair.  The desperate hope that I could get pregnant and carry a baby.  Each day before I got pregnant felt like a battle between my head and my heart.  When I did get pregnant, I fought that fear again, pushing it down and trying to have faith.  And let's not even get into the struggles I faced in battling fear after she was born.

This time around, I'm trying to be a whole new Melissa. 

This Melissa is all about celebrating.  Celebrating the process.  Celebrating when it happens.  Celebrating whatever happens with my pregnancy, should we get that far. 

And, although I won't announce it to massive amounts of people - I'm talking to you, Facebook - I won't hide my pregnancy through the first trimester because I'm worried about loosing the baby.

If it doesn't end the way I want it to, I'll deal with that too.  Not to say I wouldn't be devastated and heartbroken, because I will.  But I know that sometimes, God's blessings and mercy are demonstrated, not in the light of our lives, but in the darkest hours.  (And, with any luck, you won't have to remind me that I said all of this.)

Jeremiah 29:11: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Fear is banished.  Faith is in. 

Besides... things worked out pretty darn well last time, if I do say so myself!

Bringing you along on this journey?  That is my act of faith.

Making feet for little shoes

I cannot imagine any circumstances under which this would be too much information.  But, if you're easily offended, well... it's probably time to read another blog.

We're going for it.  We're getting back on the...er... horse.  (Yep - I went there!)

In other words...

the time has come to try for baby #2!

I just like to keep everybody posted. 

So say a prayer for us, will ya?  I'm trying really, really hard not to be in control of or anxious about this one, keeping in mind that God does all things in His perfect timing.   

Psalm 37:7: Be still in the presence of the LORD, and wait patiently for him to act.

And we all know how good I am at waiting patiently.