Something New

I feel like I'm starting a new chapter.

When I came into work this morning after a week at church camp that was amazing, relaxing, and a wonderful break from the real world, I couldn't believe that my tickers were telling me I only had 2 day's left before I become a raging, hormonal mess, and it was time to order the weapons that would turn me into such.

They should be here tomorrow.

And on Wednesday, I will begin to administer the Lupron shots that are expected to give me some crazy headaches, and the Dexamethasone steroid pill that will start to prepare my body to house an embryo without rejecting it, but will also cause me to house those last few pounds I've been trying so hard to loose.

I've been blogging for as long as I can remember about decisions and steps taken to begin a new medical process that will help me to shed my label of infertility. I've asked for advice, prayed for guidance, readied myself mentally, physically, and spiritually. But now it's time to finally embrace the possibility that I will soon be watching a screen with a flickering heartbeat that will have made these last 30 months completely worth it.

Because in less than 48 hours, I'll finally stop talking and start doing as I begin a six week long journey of shots, pills, blood draws, painful exams, retrievals, transfers, and betas. My entries will start to become more frequent as I finally begin to document a process that I've been learning and writing about for as long as I can remember.

This is what I've been praying for, waiting for, what I've been preparing my mind and body for since last February. My hope and faith is in God, that He will use these doctors and nurses as tools in an amazing plan He has for my life. I will trust their opinions, follow their direction, and pray that in the end, we are blessed with the family we've always wanted.

I'm so excited to finally start this new adventure, and I feel so blessed to have this opportunity.

I just can't believe it's already here.

"To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did."

-Author Unknown

Next Time

That's what I say every time I leave the dentist office.

At my first dental visit since trying to start our family, I remember being pretty upset because my period had just started, comforted only by the assumption that next time I came into the office I'd be pregnant. Six months later, I was back at the dentist office-and a few days late-not letting them take X-rays because I swore I was pregnant. Then six months after that, I left the office again knowing that next time I would definitely be pregnant, putting my faith in our upcoming IUI.

We all know how that turned out.

As I sat there today with my freshly warmed neck wrap and paraffin wax dipped hands laying on top the latest issue of People Magazine in my lap, I couldn't help but think how much I love my dentist and his ability to keep up with the latest and greatest reading material; but how much I hate coming here and being reminded of my inability to conceive.

And then suddenly I realized I've spent the last few years comparing my conception status to my semi-annual dentist visits, living infertility in six month increments. Reminded each time I leave the office, with clean teeth but still barren, that I thought I'd be pregnant by now. Once again disappointed, despite the exceptional service and unbeatable spa-like atmosphere, but still hopeful for a better turn out next time.

It's true what they say; old habits die hard.

Because today-two weeks into my birth control pills and exactly two weeks away from starting meds for IVF-I couldn't help but repeat history as I exited those heavy glass doors, feeling the warm sun on my face as I looked up at the sky and gave myself what I hoped to be my last pep talk.

Next time, I'll be pregnant.

"We can learn a lot from trees: they're always grounded but never stop reaching heavenward."

-Everett Mamor

Crazy

Have I mentioned I'm :::gasp::: grateful for infertility?

As crazy as it sounds, I'm so thankful for every gosh-darn thing about it, every horrendously ridiculous situation that's come with it, and every gut-wrenching heartache it's given me over the last two and a half years.

Last night my husband and I were walking on a quite trail close to our modest duplex, when I found myself tearing up while thinking about all we've been blessed with. This could have been brought on by the ridiculously gorgeous and unusual fall-like weather we've been experiencing here in northern California. Or maybe it was linked to the feeling of holding the hand of the man I love so much walking next to me.

Or possibly this was triggered by those darn birth control pills.

Either way, I was beaming with happiness and bursting with gratitude, overflowing with emotions now believed to be related to three different situations I'd encountered earlier that day.

An e-mail with the nurse coordinator for my cycle verified that-while we are completely out of pocket-most of the meds for my upcoming cycle have been donated. A talk with my father reminded me that the actual IVF procedure will mostly be covered, not by insurance, but by our generous parents who are desperately seeking (more) grandchildren and are willing to pay the price. And a phone call from a friend bearing good news and encouraging words assured me that God is in control, His timing is perfect, and everything happens for a reason.

See? Not so crazy after all. I've got a lot to be thankful for, and most of it has been brought on my infertility, and I love everything about it. The painful realities, the bitter-sweet memories, and the beautiful moments tucked in between that-together-make up who I am.

Today, I'm counting my blessings. So far, I've got 1 week of birth control pills down, 2 more pounds lost and 3 more reasons to be thankful for infertility.

Maybe crazy isn't so bad after all.

"Smooth roads never make good drivers.
Smooth seas never make good sailors.
Clear skies never make good pilots.
A problem free life never makes a good, strong person.
Be strong enough to accept the challenges of life.
Don’t ask life, 'why me?' instead say, 'Try me'."
-Author Unknown

Time Flies

Time sure flies when your... not trying to conceive?

Today, my IVF Med Ticker tells me I'm one month away from voluntarily becoming a druggie. My Weight Loss Ticker is screaming that I've still got 7 pounds to go. My throbbing ovaries remind me that I'm infertile and officially onto cycle number 29, and my colorful IVF calender informs me that I start birth control tomorrow.

And now I'm sitting here wondering; how in the world was 16 weeks not enough time for me to ditch my pooch and love handles? And why, why, why did the first 2 years of trying to conceive drag on while the last 5 months flew by?

What happened to the good old days when I was just waiting for it to happen, and beyond disappointed when it didn't? We'd been told over and over again that everything was fine, we were perfect, and it would happen. But it didn't-and month after month-time stood still.

Then this last February, we were finally given a reason why it wasn't happening and a possible solution to make it happen. From that point on, time started slipping though my hands, as if the idea of IVF and actually being pregnant was this brand new adventure and I was flailing around, drowning, completely unprepared. Holding on to the possibility of getting pregnant on our own like it was a floatation device.

Suddenly I needed to loose a few pounds, get healthy and physically ready to carry a baby. I had to make the switch over to a greener, safer lifestyle and care more about the environment. I needed to have more patience, enjoy the time I had alone with my husband, and learn to pray more. This new possibility of a child meant things had to change. I needed to change.

So, why now? I always wanted to loose a few pounds, go green, be a better person and enjoy life while striving to be closer to God every day. But why was all of this suddenly a necessity instead of just a goal once IVF came into the picture? Why didn't this drive to become healthy, green over achiever begin almost 2 1/2 years ago when I decided to become a mother?

Maybe deep down I always new I'd have trouble getting pregnant. Maybe I thought I was ready to be a mother, but it's taken this long, hard journey to truly prepare me to take on that role when God blesses me with it. And maybe hearing we'd have to give something as drastic as IVF a try was finally my wake-up call, my reality check, and my kick-in-the-butt to finally get moving.

So while time is flying by, I'm realizing now that if nothing else, infertility has taught me that things don't always come easy, and they're certainly not always free.

But I hear they're always worth it.

“Time flies. It's up to you to be the navigator.”

-Robert Orben