Still Here

I'm still freaking amazed EVERY day that we are here.

This is NOT to say that I do not have meltdowns at least three times a week where I am exhausted and don't think I can handle the lack of sleep any more. Being tired makes me cranky (er...b*tchy is a better word). Being tired makes me a bad momma to Nugget. But, I keep telling myself this will last a year to a year and a half tops. Less time than it took us to get pregnant with JuJuBean.

She's growing like a champ. Nearly 11 pounds at 8 weeks! And, occassionally giving us 5 hour stretches of sleep (knock on wood). Nugget is a rock star big brother and excellent listener (some days). I ventured out with the two of them to the Natural History Museum to see some dinosaur bones on Monday. The last time we went to that museum was right after the failed FET in Summer 2010. It was amazing to contrast my life now to then...and how much Nugget has grown and developed.

I've completed my Crossfit Foundations training. Not sure if I love it as much as running. It's hard for me to love anything as much as running. But, I am hoping it will help me whip my mushy body back into shape. Now if only I could stop gorging on chocolate and peanut butter (d@mn that stuff is good).

This Time Last Year

I am updating our photo album for the first time in nearly 8 months. In looking through the album, I am struck by how few pictures there are from Fall 2009 through Spring 2011. I sometimes look at pictures and can't place when they happened. Was that from 2010 or 2011? I remember events from Nugget's first year very clearly...but the years subsequent have been more difficult to place. It is almost as if I have some sort of amnesia for the 16 months we spent going through fertility treatments...as if I wasn't fully present in my body.

Last week, I went back and read the posts that I had written this time last year when I was in New Jersey for our fourth IVF cycle (third fresh cycle). I spent that week silent in a hotel that catered to business men in the middle of a winter snow storm leaving only for doctor's appointments and ravenous trips to Whole Foods. The cycle sucked as my cycles tend to do: only six follicles that resulted in two good looking embryos. Sitting alone in my hotel room, I had nothing to do but obsess about the cycle, our situation in life, and the hopelessness of it all.

I wrote some good sh*t. I guess I need a little melancholy to get in touch with my inner poet.

One of my favorite pieces from that period:

I feel so OUT OF PLACE. I have no friends, no colleagues, no business, no family in the region and feel as if I am conducting some sort of anthropological study of the humans here. Trying to figure out how to blend in despite feeling sorely misplaced. Which is really a larger parallel to finding my place in this fecund world where procreation is a choice not always a blessing. I miss my husband and, more than anything, I miss my little Nugget and his marker smudged palms.

While I feel less misplaced from the "fecund world," there are still moments when I feel ungrounded and realize how separate my perspective is from the majority of my peers. At the hospital with Baby Girl, the nurses kept making off-hand comments about "we'll see you next time" or "aren't you ready for a third?" Sometimes, I just smiled and nodded. Other times, I said that we had to work really hard to have our two children and the likelihood that we would be able to have a third was really slim.

With two children, I feel that my masquerade is complete; our infertility is sufficiently hidden. We have two children. Why should anyone guess that we had fertility issues? I find that I have become very private about our infertility. I don't want to offer the information. I know I shouldn't be embarrassed by it...but I am. To be honest, I've actually been avoiding returning to my running club because I'm pretty sure everyone knows why I haven't been training with them for the past two years. I just don't want to be the subject of whispers: "you know WHY she didn't run for us the past two years: she had to do IVF." As much as the judgement of others shouldn't matter and ultimately DOES NOT matter...for some reason I have become extremely paranoid about it. I know this falls into the category of "sh*t you are just going to have to SUCK UP and GET OVER." And, I know that will happen with time. I hope that will have to happen with time.

On February 2nd, 2011, while waiting for our embryologist report following retrieval, I wrote:
Dear Mr. Groundhog,
Will I get the news today that my winter is going to carry on forever? That I will never see spring. That our ability to have biological children is nill? Or, will I wake up tomorrow renewed, with hope for the future, and a chance for a child?
Please tell me, Mr. Groundhog. I can't stand the suspense. My heart is rapidly beating, I can't take a deep breath for the fear that is constricting my lungs.
********************************************************************

We were so hopeful for that cycle. After it failed, I spent the next two months on the sofa, barely breathing, never sleeping, defeated. If only I could go back in time and tell myself that I would be holding a precious Baby Girl in a year...but, had I not been through that dark period...I would not be the person I am today.