My Pensieve

For those of you who are not HP fans (shame on you, btw), you may be asking, what in the hell is a Pensieve?

I'm so glad you asked.

In the wonderful wizarding world, a Pensieve is a magical device in which you can place all of your thoughts, swirl them around, and examine and analyze them. When your brain is simply too full -- or if you are in danger of having your mind invaded by some Dark Wizard -- the Pensieve is the place you can store your memories safely. If something is confusing or you just cannot wrap your mind around it, the Pensieve can give you the time, and space, to view things a bit more objectively.

This blog is my Pensieve.

I thank you, all my bloggy friends, for giving me the opportunity to place all my bad feelings as of late here, out of my head, where I can stop the festering. Thank you for refraining from judgement, and for keeping the a**vice to a minimum. I thought of all of you during the Bea Arthur tribute on GMA the other day, and would like to hum (very off-key, mind you) the bars from the Golden Girls theme song.

"Thank you for being a friend."

Pissed Off

Me, being me, could not let things go for long. After another Silent Sunday, I decided to broach things with Mo. It went -- well, extremely shitty at first (we both yelled, defenses were high), but eventually I, at least, was able to express how I felt.

Which is to say to make clear how very confused and conflicted I am, how irresolute. How fuzzy everything looks right now. How it seems as if even God has stopped listening.

As if IF wasn't enough for one couple to have to handle. We've been smacked with a double-whammy and, frankly, the unfairness of it all just PISSES ME OFF.

The Issue At Hand

Quietly put to bed (although never far from my thoughts) the Issue wasn't discussed this week. And yet I feel myself distancing from him. I am pulling away while at the same time desperately pushing forward.

We're talking again, which is an improvement. At least, we were talking. And we had decided to try to move past this.

In all honesty, though, I am not sure I can. All week long I've felt myself burying my anger, my frustration. I feel stuck -- trapped by all those things I fought so hard to achieve. I'm unable to let go, to give up my Plan, to contemplate a future so very different from the one I've always pictured.

And yet, if I am truly, TRULY honest with myself, this isn't what I pictured at all.

As A Matter of Faith: What If I'm Wrong?

I've always believed in God. It's a ridiculously silly story, the beginning of this belief, that goes back to when I was about seven years old and, in trouble, made some hasty promises that for some reason have stuck with me for over twenty years. I've been furious with Him, ambivalent, at times even joyous -- but I've always felt that He was there. Even when we stopped communicating, it was more of an "I'm mad at you, so I'm not speaking to you" kind of thing.

Lately, the chorus in my head is simple. What if I'm wrong?

What if there is no master plan? What if all this crap is entirely of my own making? What if "the hand of God" is nowhere present? What if the end result that I'm so desperately seeking is not promised?

What if I am wrong?

* * * *

I've been talking to my pastor these past few months about the Issue that recently reared it's ugly head again. (And for those of you just tuning in, it's not an abusive or demeaning situation, so you can relax -- I am fine, really!). Actually, I've been talking to my pastor's son (who is a pastor,too, but barely older than me, so sometimes it's, well, just different). Anyway, he told me this past weekend that he believes that it is the hand of God that has prevented Mo and I from conceiving up until now. Perhaps he is right; perhaps that is the last thing on earth that we need right now. But there's a tiny part of me that wants to believe otherwise. There's a part of me (however misguided or self-serving it may be) that believes that a child can bring healing, not to a marriage, but to an individual. And I think that would be the case where Mo is concerned. Parenthood changes people: even the commerical media will attest to that. I honestly believe that the opportunity to be a father will be life-changing (in all the very best ways) for my husband.

But. . . what if I'm wrong?

* * * *

There are several people IRL who know exactly what is going on. My pastor and his family, my mother. There are other friends and family who know the Issue exists, but not to what extent or that it is currently a factor in our lives. Most of them would probably agree -- postponing IVF is probably a smart decision right now. Waiting until the Issue is resolved would be best for all of us. And I can see the logic, the reasoning behind this.

But I am so very sick of waiting. We've put off treatments before. We've taken more "breaks" in this process than many of you have taken treatment cycles. We've gotten on and off the ART train multiple times in the last seven years. And in the back of my head, the clock is ticking. I don't know why -- I know LOGICALLY that I am just 28 (or will be in a few short days), that time is on my side fertility-wise. I've even been assured by several people that I have all the time in the world.

And yet I can't help but wonder. . .what if they're wrong?

Judgement

I'm guilty of it.

So are you.

You can sit there, all wide-eyed and innocent and 'who me?', but you know that I am right.

It's human nature. We read a blog, we see one tiny snippet of a person's feelings or one moment in time and we make presumptions.

We judge.

"Is she seriously considering having a baby with him?"

"I would never put up with that."

"Those two don't need to have children -- not yet anyway."

"Their faith is so shaky."

"They need to fix their relationship before they ever consider having kids."



It works the other way, too.

"God, they have such a perfect relationship."

"I wish my spouse were more like him/her."

"She has everything I want."


The thing is, you may very well be right. But, you may very well be wrong. In all honesty, you just DON'T KNOW. The glimpse you get of each person on here is just that, a glimpse. It is in no way the entire picture. In fact, you could say it is the most misleading picture of all: it's how we see ourselves, and how we see others that we broadcast on here. It's entirely one-sided, no matter how objective we aim to be.

Not only is it one-sided, it's incomplete. None of us knows the inner-workings of anyone else; all of our perceptions are colored by our own prejudices, experiences, our own viewpoint of the world. We do not -- cannot -- see every side, every person, in their entirety. We cannot understand the entire picture, because we are not God.

And so, often, we keep our judgement to ourselves. We think -- but rarely express -- varying levels of condemnation, of what we call our "opinion." Or we express it in tiny ways -- the lifting of the eyebrow, the well-placed silence, a turned shoulder. Rarely, oh so rarely, do we really try to see all sides, to understand all involved, to withhold judgement.

It's rare -- but wonderful. Thank you to all who refrained from judgement, and who will continue to do so in the coming months as I unravel the tangled mess of my life. I hope you will keep in mind, as I do so, Alexander Pope's short assessment of humanity:

"To err is human, to forgive divine."

Not My Story To Tell

I know I've left many of you hanging, wondering, pondering , perhaps even speculating aloud to your spouse "What in the world happened to old Jo?"

Okay, so maybe I'm reaching a little. But, whether you are just mildly curious or if you've spent sleepless nights waiting for an answer, well, I'm sorry to tell you -- there's just not one forthcoming.

At least not right now.

You see, it's not my story to tell.

Let me back up.

I'm fine. I am not physically hurt, nor have I been at any point. Mo is fine, too, in all the senses that count, in that he is not in any mortal danger, either. We both still have our jobs, our house, our wonderfully sweet and innocently naive fur-babies.

And yet. Though we are both fine, neither one of us is fine at all. Not really.

This is where it gets tricky, where the words stop coming, where I sit and type something, re-read it, delete it. Try again. And again. How can I explain what's happening, and how I'm coping, without violating the privacy of the man I love?

How do you separate the stories of two people who have shared a bed, a home, a life?

How do I talk about me without talking about him?

A Really Lousy Explanation...Sort Of

I don't know why this is happening.

I don't know how to fix it.

I don't even know if it should be fixed.

I don't know if we will make it.

I don't know what the future holds.


The only things I do know -- that our baby dreams have been halted, for a year, two years, forever maybe -- make me want to cry, scream, hit something, curl up into a tiny little ball and just disappear.

"Life's not fair, you know."

Yes, that is one thing that I know all too well.

As A Matter of Faith: Shattered

I'm not even sure how to begin this post.

I don't know if I will ever be able to explain.

My faith is hanging on by the tiniest of threads.

Please, pray for me, and for Mo.

We are shattered.

IVF In Black and White

That's kind of what I was expecting today, almost hoping for. I really wanted Dr. Optimistic to spell it out for us: this is what you need to do, this is when we will do it.

Instead of black and white, I got varying degrees of muted gray. I thought that today would be the start of The Plan -- the thing that would finally bring us baby. Instead, I've got more questions, and tons of decisions to make.

I'm not sure that I am up for it.

Two things that Dr. Optimistic threw our way today that I wasn't expecting. The first was that we could try another IUI, this time with Antigone (sp?) to help prevent my early surges. Since we have HAD to trigger each time because I was already starting to ovulate on my own, this may help us "cook" our eggs a little longer, giving us more of them "in the strike zone" as the RE put it. This would increase our chances of conception, but doesn't address my biggest concern which is Mo's extremely low sperm counts / motility.

The second thing was a fairly strong push for Shared/Donated IVF. This would alleviate a large portion of the financial burden (about 2/3 of the cost) in exchange for my donating half of my eggs. Mo seemed really okay with this idea -- which surprised me. What surprised me even more was how HURT this made me. Why is this? Why does the idea of helping out someone who needs it, of sharing my miracle, make me want to cry? I tried to explain to both Mo and Dr. Optimistic that I didn't think I could handle it if my "don-ee" (yes, I know that's not a real word) got pregnant and I didn't. "Well, we just wouldn't find out," was Mo's response. "It remains anonymous" the RE assured me.

But I would always wonder. And I don't know how I feel about that.

And so I feel selfish. And guilty.

You see, the money that is financing this journey comes from Mo's father, who passed last summer. Without it, we would be stuck. Our credit is okay, but we just bought a house and we still have some other debt -- I don't know if we would qualify for financing (especially in this economy). So, I am blessed to know that we can pay for this ourselves. And yet, with that blessing, comes the guilt that I am not helping, that Mo is essentially footing the bill. And then I feel obligated to ease that burden as much as possible.

I honestly think that, had I never been through IF, I'd be fine with donating my eggs. If I had three kids sleeping in the other room, it would be easy to reach out and say, sure, I'll share. I've got more than enough.

But, in a feast-or-famine type of situation, it's much harder for me to be willing to share, not knowing if I will ever see the fulfillment of my baby dreams.

I am so torn. I've seen the generosity of this community, and always wished I could do more. I've seen dreams become reality through the selflessness of others. I've even been the recipient of donated meds and more support that I ever dreamed of. So why is it so difficult for me to give back? Shouldn't I be willing to do what I can to help someone else whose situation is probably even more complicated than mine?

Mo is being wonderfully supportive. He says that it is all up to me, it's my body, he wants what I want. While that is great in theory, what I really want is someone to just say to me "Do this. This is the right thing to do."

Instead, it appears that I have to decide what is right. And while this seems easy in other areas of my life, I am struggling with this, much more so than I ever dreamed. Why is it so hard? Why can't I just say, okay, this is what I want -- and not worry about what everyone else wants? Why can't I be selfish, and be okay with it? And what the hell happened to my self-confidence anyway?

Chalk it up as one more IF fatality - the ability to make easy, clear-cut decisions and know, without doubt, that I did the right thing.

Show-And-Tell / SITM Post (aka What You All Mean To Me)

Okay, so I'm cheating (just a little) and piggy-backing on both the Show-and-Tell and Sock-It-To-Me posts. I'm still a bit weary from traveling, so blame it on the car-lag (as opposed to jet-lag, I guess!).

Anyway, I am the proud recipient of socks from Kathy of Three of a Kind, Working On A Full House. She did a great job picking out just the right "lucky" socks! The pictures below simply don't do them justice.







Although the socks didn't bring me the BFP I was hoping for the first time I wore them, I am taking the approach that, like a good pair of shoes, they just need a little time to be broken in. I plan on wearing them throughout our IVF cycle -- from our consult on Monday through delivery! (Note the positive vibes, there? And I mean I will wear them for medical procedures/doctors appointments, not every single day. . .although, if that will bring home baby, I'm not adverse to trying that either!).

Now, for the hard part of this post. Trying to put into words what the ALI community means to me is difficult. How to explain the way you've held me together when everything else was falling apart? How do you convey to people you've never met how very much their simple words mean? Lucky for me, someone else has the words I'm looking for. As we were driving home, I put in my favorite Christian music CD and was blown away by how this particular song really hit home for me. In case you are interested, I embedded the entire song below (it really IS better when heard to music!), but the part that describes this community for me is in the chorus:

This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.

This community holds me up. I've seen the most sacred things in life ripped from so many strong, beautiful women here -- and yet we survive. Somehow we keep going. And this community is what holds us when we fall. People we've never met shower us with love. It's truly the most amazing thing I have ever had the privilege of being a part of. I've been fortunate enough not to experience, for me, the ultimate loss -- but I know that if I had to, you would all be here, holding me, as I picked up the pieces. That's the promise that Mel, and Kymberli, and all of you have made. The promise to be there, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad.

Thank you all for this priceless gift.

Big Changes Looming Ahead

1. IVF Consult scheduled for April 13th.
2. Hopefully beginning IVF #1 in May/June.
3. Putting new house (bought in August) on the market.
4. Possible/probable move out of state within two years.

The first two were expected, and have been in the radar for several months. The last two came as a total surprise this past weekend when Mo proposed that we move back "home" to be closer to my family.

I was in such shock that I didn't' know what to say.

It's not that I don't love my family -- my mom is my best friend (aside from Mo) and the only person IRL who even knows about this blog. I wish I could spend more time with my sister. And now there's Miss A. I'd love to be able to watch her grow up, to be involved in her life so much more.

It's just that, well, Mo is a homegrown boy and I never thought he'd ever want to leave the state we currently live in. He moved quite a bit as a kid (as did I), but he's basically lived in the same area since he was 14 (that's about 24 years). The longest I've ever lived anywhere has been here (nine years this summer). I moved here during college, and stayed because I met and married Mo. I never, ever dreamed we would move back to my "home" state -- ever. It's just not really a place people move TO, ya know?

But Mo has some very convincing arguments. Better schools, better pay. We would both make at least $10,000 more a year -- and that's without all the coaching supplements that Mo would receive. Even when you factor in that "home" has a state income tax and our current state does not, you are still looking at a significant pay raise.

The cost of living there is very comparable to here. We can get the same house for the same price we paid last summer. Since we've made some low-cost, high-yield improvements on our home since we bought it, we may even make a bit of a profit (if we can find a buyer!).

Even better? "Home" is one of just a handful of states with a mandate to cover infertility treatments. While it has stipulations and lifetime caps, it still beats the NO COVERAGE we currently have. And after 7 years of unsuccessful attempts to get pregnant on our own (with and without assistance), I know that we are going to have to do this IVF thing more than once. Even if our first one works, we want several kids. So this would mean MAJOR savings for us.

And finally, there's family there. Since Mo's father passed last summer, and my mother-in-law took Mo's niece and returned to Miami, we have no family here. Mo's grandparents are gone. His uncles/stepfamily are not close. We really have no reason to stay here. Well, my reason is Mo. But his reason? He claims to have none.

I am trying to be realistic about all of this. We are taking a trip home this weekend to visit A. and my family, scout out potential areas to live, etc. I need to give Mo the space to make this decision on his own, as it will be the biggest change for him. I am trying to realize that grief may be motivating him right now, and that he may change his mind. But I've also been praying about this since Sunday and I feel really good about it. Really, really, really good.

Big changes up ahead. Buckle up -- let's hope it's not too bumpy of a ride.