Unbelievable

I've never been able to find any kind of pattern to my cycles. They are ERRATIC. I always get irritated when the doctors insist on a length between cycles or a length of the period. I tell them 14 to 60 days between and 2 to 14 days long. That usually shuts them up. Keep in mind that it has been this way since my period first showed up 20 years ago. The only time I'm remotely regular is when I'm taking hormones.

Given this, I fail to understand how I could have ovulated on the exact same day two years in a row (the day Aiden was conceived and the anniversary of that day).

I've been bleeding damn near constantly since November. Even high dose birth control didn't completely stop it. When it finally stopped for a few days I missed a pill and it promptly started again. So I expected when I stopped the pills for good in anticipation of starting the Femara, that I would start the next day. This would put my expected ovulation date within days of Aiden's due date. Apparently my ovaries have a sick sense of humor or they are class I assholes. Instead of starting the next day, I started 3 days later. Which, of course, puts my expected ovulation date ON Aiden's due date. What the hell?!

I may be putting too much emphasis on dates, and who the hell knows if I will actually ovulate on day 14, but this seems like a lot more than coincidence. I suppose it could also be divine intervention but I'm not sure this would be a happy coincidence. I don't really know how I feel about it. Other than pissed off that my body is so contrary.

easy peasy - and I didn't even take off my pants

I'm in a much better mood but still bouncing back and forth between utter terror and hope.

The RE was awesome. He is a member a nonprofit environmental group; I was impressed! He was a nice guy and seemed to actually care about getting me pregnant and not racking up a large account. He took my concerns about clomid very seriously and is one of the very few doctors that did not talk down to us. He actually seems to understand that as biologists we have a basic understanding of how procreation and hormones work.

He is going to do an HSG, which I was pretty sure would be needed, but doesn't need any further blood work right now. He has me starting a round of Femara with nothing else and will check my progesterone after ovulation. I didn't even need an exam! And best of all - the $350 consultation was actually covered by my insurance and cost me $20. I still can't believe that. He said the HSG would be covered too. If we have to move to injectables they aren't covered but I was planning on spending several hundred so that doesn't stress me out. It's actually sounding like we may be able to afford this after all.

So, this round of bcp ends on Sunday (eep!), which of course puts my likely ovulation date within 3 days of Aiden's due date. Of course. But that's way better than having that day as my LMP.

The adoption home study is also moving along. We still think we are going to adopt even if we get pregnant so we aren't changing anything there.

Yikes! I could have another kid (or 2, or 3) by February! (This is me not getting my hopes up - can you tell?)

Going to find the valium now. Deep breaths.

Dread

RE appointment is tomorrow. I'm dreading it for a variety of reasons that don't seem to make much sense. First of all, I HATE that I am forced to go see a male gynecologist. I haven't seen one since I was a teenager and was treated horribly because I had the nerve to complain of abdominal pain.

- Whiny women. It's supposed to hurt. God punished Eve for that little apple incident and now you get to pay the price. Shut up and stop wasting my time. (Not that he said that of course).

Also, I have issues with strange men sticking fingers and object in there. That part is going to be really hard. But there is also the fear that this won't work. And the fear that it will work and end up the same or even worse than last time (I'm not sure what would be worse but I'm sure the universe could come up with something. And the fear that it will work and we will lose out on an adoption placement because I am pregnant. Or we will run out of money before we get a real chance at trying (the most likely scenario).

I really, really wish someone would tell me that this will never work. I have a harder time with hope than I do with the certainty that I won't get what I want. At least I could mourn the loss and move on. Instead I may not be able to give up hope until I hit menopause. This ridiculous thought that I got lucky once and could again one day will continue for YEARS. That I dread more than a simple no. This last year and change of holding onto a slim thread of hope has been very hard. I don't want to do that for years. I don't want to be bitter and angry and jealous all that time. But I can't seem to stop myself from hoping without a really good reason not to.

My husband asked me a few months ago if I wanted him to get a vasectomy so that the issue was closed and I could move on. I was PISSED. But I see his point. That, at least, would be closure.

At least tomorrow I should have a little more information. Information is always good.

FINALLY!!!

They called. Our first home study appointment is tomorrow. Yikes! I'm nervous and excited and kind of pissed that it is finally happening right when I have my first RE appointment.

In other news - my poor big girl who is turning five tomorrow is pretty sick. I'm worried about her because she has an awful full body rash and is just very blah. She hasn't gotten sick enough for the ER but I'm not sure it will stay that way all weekend. Every time she gets sick now I really overreact and spend the whole time trying to decide if I could survive life without her. I HATE that. It feels like I'm just waiting around for her to die. I wish I new how to turn that off - it makes me feel like I'm asking for something horrible to happen.

My craziness aside, it's starting to look like we may have at least one other kid by this time next year. Here's hoping.

secrets

I've been thinking about secrets today. My co-workers don't know that we chose to end the pregnancy with Aiden. I only told them that he died. I keep wanting to tell one in particular because he keeps sending me articles about horrible anti-choice legislation hoping that I will call or write to protest. I'm not sure if he suspects that we had to make that choice or just knows that my political and moral leanings are pretty similar to his, but I would like him to know exactly how personal it is to me. I'm scared to though. I've held this secret very close. My sister knows - she paid for the procedure and held me while I cried. My mom knows - I knew without doubt the she would support me. I have 4 very close friends who know because I trusted them with my heart, even if I wasn't sure if they fully agreed with our decision.

My father doesn't know. My brother doesn't know. My catholic grandfather and Aunt don't know. I don't know why I never told them. I think most of them would understand and not judge. But I'm not positive. 'Probably' was far too risky when I was feeling so very fragile. Even now I don't think I could handle my choice being questioned by someone I loved. I saw what that did to my husband when his best friend from high school made a judgmental comment. I don't think he's spoken to her since.

I don't know where I am now with this secret. Saturday we spent some time with my husband's friend from childhood that he recently reconnected with. He and his family have welcomed us with open arms and tell us that they consider us family. They know we lost a son, but not exactly how. We have not wanted to tell them because they are very religious and we are not sure how they would react. I'd like to think that it wouldn't matter. You know that old saying - the friends who matter won't care, and the friends who care don't matter? It's crap. It would hurt us deeply if these friends didn't support our decision. And what if they outright rejected our friendship because they believe what we did in compassion is a mortal sin? How would we explain that to our daughter who is in love with their family? But not telling them opens a little gap of mistrust, and it bothers me sometimes.

This friend, lets call him Fred, has a large family. On Saturday I was at the store with Fred's wife and sister in law. It turns out that the sister in law had 8 babies die. One was a twin that was anencephalic. She told me that it was god's gift that the baby didn't live to be born, that she didn't have to care for a dying infant. That really, really hurt to hear because I PRAYED that Aiden would let go so that I wouldn't have to make such a horrible decision and he would die in peace and not suffer. I wanted to tell her how lucky she was but I was sure, by the things she said, that she wouldn't understand. Just as I can't comprehend watching a baby of mine die that way, I don't think she could comprehend directly causing the death of her baby - no matter how sick it was. Many days I think she has the easier outlook. But I also think I did the right thing.

It's hard, keeping this secret. Thank you so much for letting me share it here without judgement.

Ho-hum

I think I am getting depressed again. It is all this damn waiting. Supposedly we will be assigned a case worker for our home study by the end of the month (not holding my breath), and my very first fertility appointment is at the end of April. It feels like it will never get here. I've been very negative lately about our chances of getting any kid at all. I keep expecting the universe to screw us again, which is why I think I am getting depressed.

I don't know what to do now. My doctor is an ass and I just don't have the energy to find another one. Of the literally dozens of doctors, therapists, and psychologists I have seen in my lifetime, there have been less than 5 good ones. That doesn't bode well for my chances of finding someone who can actually help me.

I have a horrible fucking migraine and I'm spotting again. 10 days without bleeding - that's a new record.


I almost deleted this because I'm sick of the complaining. But, hey - it's my blog. Why else am I writing it except to work through all this crap?

Believing in miracles

I'm not religious - probably even somewhat anti-religion. After my son died I wished often that I had some type of faith to fall back on. I felt so incredibly alone.

I do have a belief in a higher power, a purpose to our existence, and that we continue on in some form after death. I was able to take some solace in those beliefs, especially after this happened:

(Originally posted on Glow in the Woods)

I'm sitting here, home sick from work, writing sad and angry posts. It is a lovely day and I have both doors open to the breeze. I heard a rustle and looked up, and there in the kitchen, looking happy and mischievous, is the little wren that I named my son after. It feels like Aiden stopped to check in on me and tell me not to be sad. What a gift.

Just so no one is alarmed - the wren flew right back out again. I didn't want it to get caught in the house but I kind of hope he stops back in.
March 8, 2010 | jen

I don't remember if I wrote about this here, but the reason we chose Wren as a middle name for our son was because there was a Carolina Wren that sang on the fence just outside my window every morning after Aiden died. I had never noticed him before that, he just appeared a few days after we came home. When I watched that bird I felt peaceful and connected to my baby. It felt like he was there with me, watching that bird, maybe whispering to it to sing me a little song. So when that wren flew in the door that spring day last year, it was a message to me.

When we moved this past January, just days after Aiden's birthday, I was so sad to have to leave that wren (and his family, they had nested in my strawberries that year). Carolina wrens are very common birds and it's pretty easy to attract them, so I had plans to put up feeders and houses until I got a breeding pair at our new house.

Then something amazing happened.



My husband called me at work the day after we moved in. He was crying and he said, "you won't believe what I found in the house." He told me he heard something and went to investigate and found a Carolina wren flying around the house. He didn't have any idea how it got in and was able to take a picture. It still makes me cry to think of this. What are the chances of that happening twice in two different houses, right on the days when I really, really needed to have my baby with me?

So even if I don't believe in a God that watches over us and has "a plan", I do believe in miracles. And I believe my son is out there, bringing smiles to his mommy just like his big sister does.