Ordinary Magic

On the subject of Love, I have to say, I truly do love Decemberbaby's description:

"Sometimes I wonder about other people’s criteria in choosing a partner for life. I may well be wrong, but I feel like popular culture puts an emphasis on romantic love – being swept off your feet by someone – and sexual attraction. It would be a shame if people bought into that ideal, because it’s just not sustainable 24/7. No matter how attracted and wildly in love you are, one morning you’ll wake up to a partner with morning breath who forgot to put the garbage out, and you won’t be feeling the love in that moment."

Her comments made me smile. Right now, as I type, I know so many people (some teens, some adults, some who are sort of in limbo between the two, and may never fall on one side or the other!) who hold their breath, waiting for the PERFECT person. The one who sweeps you off your feet. The one with money. The most handsome. The one who sets your heart on fire. The one who makes you feel like you're soaring above the clouds. Like you're invincible. Like the world is amazing and nothing can go wrong.

I worry for those people. Because those are the people who will be disappointed. And if I love them, I know I will witness their disappointment. Those are the unhappy people. Those are the ones who will wander through life, wondering where their vision of perfect might be. Where they can find their happy, magical world. Those people will never get what they hope for, because honestly...

... it doesn't exist.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but there it is. They're living in a dream world. A fantasy. A sweet notion of fairy tales, sparkling lights, romance and fluff. Dear heavens. *rolls eyes* How to explain to them that it doesn't exist? That what they have in their heads is not sustainable? Not possible in the long term? Not feasible at all?!

Here it is: If you look at life always expecting the best, the most incredible experiences, the perfect partner, your days to be thrilling and joyous and full of light and smiles, and you expect that feeling of euphoria to last, you are sadly, terribly mistaken.

Life simply isn't like that.

Yes, there are moments. Days. Maybe entire weeks if you are really lucky, of ultimate joy and feeling like the world is magical. I won't deny that. For example:
The moment he tells you "I love you" for the first time.
The moment he proposes. And the feeling of that ring on your finger for the first little while.
The day you get flowers from a special someone.
A quiet romantic interlude, complete with whatever is your personal fantasy. (RAWR!)
Taking a spontaneous trip with your partner, away from responsibilities, jobs, stress, etc.
Making time to snuggle by a warm fire, glass of wine in hand. (Okay, I've rarely done this but when I have, it's fun. For sure.)
The precise moment you say, "I do," and you feel like you're walking on air; happiness infuses everything around you.
For us IFers, we know that when when we hear those magic words, "You're pregnant," the world will spin on its axis and stars will align, angels will shout the highest of glories. (Yes, all these things DO happen. I can vouch for it.)

So many beautiful moments occur during a lifetime. But you have to remember that in between all these moments are... well... other not so beautiful moments. Other life moments that -- while aren't as magical or romantic, or amazing -- are still moments. And they are YOUR moments. No one else has what you have. Each moment is yours to cherish and experience. For these ordinary moments make you who you are! You see, if you keep going through these regular, ordinary moments, you keep living them, you eventually get to the next MAGICAL moment that you really love and will remember forever.

And to me, that is what's special. Sure, there's the crap. The hell. The days you wish never happened. We all have them. We all wish we could have a 'do-over' for some days or moments. Such is life, and it goes on.

But the trick is to keep moving forward and keep watching for those magical moments. They're all around. And if you are truly lucky, the ordinary moments become the magical ones.

Like yesterday, when my daughter wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and said, "I love you mostest ever Mommy."

That my friends... now THAT is magical.

Sweetest Words

(Children mentioned herein. Just cherishing some of the special moments.)


On Christmas Day, Petite woke us at about 7:45 a.m.. She had initially forgotten the hype and hubbub of Christmas and wanted to snuggle with Mommy and Daddy in our bed for awhile. We were more than happy to oblige.

When we came to our senses and realized that so many gifts were out in our living room, waiting to be opened and that we had people to thank for these lovely gifts, as they were calling later in the day, I gently reminded Petite about the tree and presents.

"Santa come?" She asked. "Yes," I replied, "Santa came and left some presents." That was it. She was eager to get a move on with her day and hopped down off the bed as quickly as possible for a two-year old.

I'll spare you the crazy details of frantic unwrapping, delight at the new gifts, and fun that ensued at our house. The day went well. Everyone had a lovely mid-afternoon rest when Petite had her nap. I spoke to most of my family members to thank them for being so very thoughtful. I thanked Hubby for having given me a raclette (which I have wanted for about 12 years to replace another one that went elsewhere). My girlfriend gave me a beautiful stainless steel electric kettle; again, something I've wanted for awhile. The turkey dinner was delicious and the wine that accompanied it went down nicely, as did the rum pudding dessert! YUM!

But the best, the absolute sweetest moment I want to remember is the following:

As I said goodnight to Petite on Christmas night, she was clinging to her new Iggle Piggle and Upsy Daisy dolls, snuggling under her comforter. I leaned down, brushed my hand gently on her hair a few times, as I do every night, and I kissed her.

"Good night my sweet baby girl. I love you."

"Love you Mommy."

"Merry Christmas my darling girl."

"Merry Kismas Mommy."

Tears rolled down my face. Never were sweeter words spoken.



When you stop and think about it, these are the moments IFers want. Nothing huge. Nothing incredible (except that it kind of is, in my view). Not the overwhelming moments. IFers want a regular life. They want the quiet, everyday moments of snuggling with their children. Of kissing them goodnight. Of taking them to the park and playdates. Of showing them the world. Of teaching them kindness and respect. Of showing them love.

And if they're lucky, to receive love like this in return. For nothing is more beautiful.

At Christmas, I wish for all of us to be so blessed and find the path that will bring us to the realization of our dreams of building a family. May 2012 bring this to you, if you are still searching. It took us almost 7 years to find our path and go from our first "try" to having a baby in our arms. I pray to God that each of us, each of YOU, are able to have that as well... and with luck, well before 7 years passes!

Much love, now and always,
Gil

This Moment -- Wishing I Participated

I love Steph and Carey's Friday ritual (inspired by SouleMama) of posting a single photo; a memory from the week, that they want to hold forever in their hearts. "This Moment" has become a bit of a treat for me. I get to peek at their wonderful world with The Trio and smile at the tender, funny, sweet, uplifting moments that they experience. I have often thought that it is something that I would love to do.

In order to do that, I would need to take photos, right? But you know something? I realized that I don't take photos every week. Isn't that an absolute shame?? I think it is. Truly, I do. I am so slack in my diligence that I let days -- weeks even -- go by without taking a single photo of Petite or the changes that I see in her from day to day. It's terrible. It really is terrible.

There are so many things, so many changes I see in her. I try to detail them to family members and elsewhere, but sometimes, I think I'd love to take photos more often and ensure that a record of the special moments is here... for her to see and read about when she gets older.

Time slips by so quickly and then I read blogs about parents who have lost their young infants for whatever reason and they cherish each and every photo they have of their little ones. I understand how precious those must be. (I pray to God that none of us ever has to deal with this situation.)

Photos. Recorded memories. Moments in time. Cherished moments that touch me. I must make more of an effort in this regard. I'll try to do better. For me. For Petite. For our family. I must do better.

T minus 13 hours... *gulp*

Thirteen hours from now, I'll be sitting in our specialist's office in Montréal...

... scared sh*tless.

I have no idea how this appointment is going to play out, but I am nervous tonight as I contemplate the various scenarios.

I just hope I don't walk out of there like I did our first appointment with the staff at McGill. I remember sniffling in the parking lot, bawling my eyes out by the time I sat down in the car and totally breaking down on our way back home. I was terrified.

At that time, we had already done so much and gone through so many tests, tears, grief and pain over the previous six years, I didn't know if I could pull myself together to get the "rest" of the tests done for the folks in MTL.

But I managed. We did it.

And look where it got us.

Please God, let tomorrow go well. I would love to make our little girl a big sister at the end of all this.

A Monkey on our Hands

I'm at work today; as mentioned in my earlier post today (wow, two posts in one day!), Petite is still ill but it's Hubby's turn at home with her today.

He just called me. With a new development.



Petite climbed out of her crib.

Now, it's not quite like last time. Back in October, in this post, I mentioned that she wasn't yet 14 months old and had figured out how to climb out of her crib. At that time, we lowered the mattress as far as it could go, thinking that it would buy us a few months' worth of time.

Yeeeaaaah. Ummmmm, not so much. She's going to be 15 months tomorrow, and by God, she ain't stunned (as we say at home).

Because she's been ill, we had used a pillow to raise up one end of her crib, hoping that it would help her breathe easier and thus sleep better at night. This afternoon, it was time for her nap, so Hubby gave her a bottle, set her down for a nap, covered her, turned on the monitor and went to the kitchen to tidy up.

A few moments later, he heard a "thump" and went to investigate. There she was, happy as ever, playing with her toys on the floor. He was shocked. He called me and told me and I suggested that he remove the pillow and see what happened.

Then I got an e-mail. "That didn't work." Apparently, he removed the pillow, thus returning the mattress to its lowest level. He put her back in her crib, covered her again, and left the room, pulling the door almost closed behind him. Quietly, he watched her.

She promptly got up, went to the corner of her crib, threw one leg up and pulled herself up to the top of the rail. Rolling over the edge, she hung on for a moment before letting go and dropping herself down to the floor.

It's inevitable. We're going to have to change her bed to a pure 'toddler bed' now with a half railing on one side. I can't believe it. Fifteen months and she's done with her crib. It's gone so fast. I yearned for more than six years to have a baby in my arms. I am blessed that I got her of course. But much like I wished my pregnancy would last, I wish her infancy and childhood would last too. It is flying by. And my little baby is becoming a real little girl.

I'm saddened by that. In so many ways, I wish I could stop time and hold her close and tight. Keep her 'my baby' per se. But then again, I have to smile and like every other parent before me, I must be grateful and thankful that Petite is a happy, healthy (relatively! Even with croup!), normal little sweetheart.

Counting each and every blessing I have. Trust me. Every single day.

Happy 15 months baby girl. Mommy and Daddy love you with all our heart.

Giving Thanks: An Idea

Writing.



It's in my veins. It's who I am. It's how I make a living for heaven's sake.



It's what I've always done, and what I hope I can continue to do.



I write.



I write here in this blog. I write a blog for my gaming character in EverQuest II. I write technical documents and manuals, installation guides and FAQ-style documentation for the clients at the office. I write letters to friends. I write thank-you cards (a lost art, I'm told). I write with the hope of effecting change. I write lists of things to do. I write in Petite's baby book so she will have something very tangible from her childhood when she gets older. I write e-mails to friends. I write Christmas cards every year. I write down my thoughts and impressions of the world around me, for my own benefit... and if others so desire, for their enjoyment.



I love to write. I love the feeling of holding a pen in my hand and having a blank sheet before me, ready to retain my words. I love walking into a store filled to the ceiling with types of paper, designs, styles, sizes, colours, textures and sensations. For me, a stationery shop (aka papeterie) holds mystery and a feeling of incomparable possiblity. I could lose myself for hours on end, just exploring all the facets of the paper therein. And all the better if the store carries high-end pens, à la Mont-Blanc's $10,000 works of art! Get me in a store like that and you can leave me for a few hours. I'd be quite content.



I started writing this blog with the intent of venting my emotions and recording our process as we moved forward on the infertility journey. In so doing, I have 'met' a wonderful group of people. Some of you I have met in person. Others, only virtually. But many of you have affected my life.



I read Mel's post about how her kids received a letter from someone with my first name and Mel initially thought it was a letter from me. And that got me thinking: why not? Why wouldn't I write Mel a note, or a letter, or a thank-you card to express to her how much she and her blog have meant to me? Why wouldn't any of us do that? I mean, we write here all the time. We connect online every day. While I understand that some people wish to remain anonymous behind the monikers on their blogs, I also know that many people might appreciate a hand-written card to let them know just how much they mean to us.



I need to pay it forward. I need to try to get in touch with some of you who do mean a lot to me. And I challenge you to do the same. I challenge you to at least make the offer to three bloggers who have touched your life in some way. Make the offer to write a personal note to them (if they're willing to give you a snail-mail address) and let them know how or why they have affected you.



This weekend is our Thanksgiving Holiday. Like last year, I have much to give thanks for. As I'm sure you know, this community is most cerrtainly very high on my list.



And you don't need me to tell you what else I'm thankful for, now do you?




Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Canadians! Enjoy the holiday. Spend it with family and friends and take care of each other.

Developing by Leaps and Bounds

Baby Girl is 4 months old. I can't believe it.



She is really developing by leaps and bounds these days. A sample of some of her accomplishments:

• she far prefers to face forward rather than facing me (even in the moby wrap)
• she's able to deftly stuff her soothie into her mouth, when she looses it
• she perfected sucking her thumb; although she doesn't keep it in there long
• she found her toes... and like everything else, quickly stuffed them in her mouth
• she is exploring our faces when we feed her
• rolling from tummy to back, and back to tummy; she prefers the latter
• laughing out loud and talking up a storm (on Dec. 30, she spent the entire day blabbering!)
• she is trying to hold herself up on her feet, and she prefers to be upright rather than sitting up (we have a Bumbo seat and she tolerates it for maybe 10 mins at a time, but she loves her new exersaucer!)
• she watches every morsel of food or every drop of fluid that goes in our mouths! (a sign that she is ready to start cereals maybe? She tried to grab my Mom's coffee mug out of her hands!)

I estimate that she's between 14 and 15 lbs right now. We'll know more next week when we go to the doctor's for her shots and a check up. She's still in some 0-3 month outfits, but she seems to be starting to fit into the 3-6 month stuff now. About time too! She looked so adorable in her Christmas dresses! What a cutie!

And we had her christened while we were at home. I received two wonderful gifts from three of my good girlfriends (all sisters) at home. One of them made me a little photo album with pics of the day and the event, and the other two made me a beautiful framed keepsake with a photo, a quoted passage, the date and the people involved (baby's name, our names, those of the godparents and the church official). It's spectacular. I'm so blessed. And Little Miss looked angelic in her (my!) christening dress. She never even made a peep when the water touched her forehead; my concern was that she would stick out her tongue to drink it!

It was a lovely 5-6 weeks at home, and now we're back in our own surroundings and we'll get her on some sort of a schedule. She's still only taking 4-5 oz per feed, with a rare request for more. And some nights she sleeps through, while others, she's up for more food. It all depends. I'm hoping that when I can start getting some cereal into her formula that she'll sleep better at night.

This morning she had a first; she had her first swimming lesson. She really enjoyed it for the most part, crying only momentarily the first time she went underwater. But she did beautifully and I'm looking forward to the rest of the classes! I hope she is too!

Some developments... at last!

Hubby and I are on the way out to the hospital this morning, bright and early.

Last night, as I sat at my desk around 10:15 p.m., just as I was finishing clearing the SD card for the camera, and copying down some music to my mp3 player for the hospital, my water broke. It was unmistakable and by 11 p.m. we were on our way to the hospital to get checked.

Petit is doing fine. I'm doing fine and after a few checks and monitorings of Petit's heartrate, we were sent home to try to get some rest until this morning and told to return to see how things are progressing.

Overnight, contractions hit the 6 minute mark (or thereabouts), however, I did manage to squeeze in 3 or 4 hours of semi decent rest. I know I'm "on the clock" now to deliver within about 24 hours of last night's time marker so we'll just hope that the contractions and pressure I'm feeling are productive today.

Promise to keep you all posted. Wish us luck!

OB Appointment (39w2d)

Nothing new to report. Still here, still hanging on.

And according to yesterday's OB appointment, all is still fine with Petit. Heartrate in the 140s, head still down against my cervix and lo and behold, a check revealed that the cervix is far forward and I'm dilated "a fingertip's worth." So it looks like I'll be able to go to my 40w2d appointment next Thursday. And Petit will be hanging in there til Mom and Aunt B arrive tomorrow night.

They also booked me for an ultrasound at the 40w6d mark to check things like placental functioning, baby's growth, level of amniotic fluid and all that good stuff. That appointment is for August 31, so in reality, Petit might be a September baby!

I'll be honest though; I'm really hoping I don't get that far. I really want to meet our little one before then!

Petit's Room

Just to show you what hubby and I have been up to in the last little while... here's Petit's room as it stands right now. Please note: the crib is currently in our bedroom and there's a double bed in what will be Petit's room because my aunt will be sleeping in there when she and my mom arrive in a few weeks to give us a hand.


The Crib: We decided on a DaVinci Kalani crib. It's convertible to a toddler bed and eventually a double bed, as long as it isn't totally wrecked by that time! :)

For those who are curious, the Japanese Kanji in the frames above the bed are "love" (also tattooed on my right ankle), and my name as written by a wonderful woman I knew when I lived in Japan years ago.

This is to show off the gorgeous curtains that my aunt made for the bedroom. I'm so pleased with them! She did a fabulous job! They help to darken the room nicely for afternoon naps.

The furniture and all kinds of gifts, goodies and things we'll need in the coming weeks! The change table is a removable piece that will be unscrewed as Petit grows and no longer needs it. And then it'll be a lovely dresser.

And the quilt that my aunt embroidered. It's far too lovely to mess up, so I decided to hang it instead.

This is The Room that Shall Not be Named from many years ago. We'd redecorated it once before, but it's time. I think it's finally time for me to let go and maybe, just maybe, call it a nursery.

I reach full term tomorrow at 37 weeks. I'm excited, nervous and dare I say, hopeful. And never in my wildest dreams did I believe we'd get this far.

Inspiration

Imagine my surprise this morning when I reached out to grab the morning newspaper, to find an envelope with my name on it in my mailbox as well. I was perplexed; who would drop a card in my mailbox? A friend? A neighbor? There was no stamp or address, just my first name on the envelope.

I brought the newspaper in and laid it down before turning the card over and opening it. I pulled out a pretty card with a lovely print of a painting on the cover. I opened it. And as I read the words therein, tears came to my eyes and my throat had a distinctive lump in it.

The card was indeed from my neighbor, Mary, who lives across the street. She’s a sweet friend and she’s been pulling for us for a long time… both her and her husband Marc. Once in awhile they comment here. Anyway, with Mary’s permission, this is what she wrote:

Hi Gil,
I know you’ve been having such a roller coaster time but at least you are now on the ride. I know some of those upcoming drop offs may seem scary but try to just take a deep breath and go with it. Try hard to live in the now and not what might happen. There is at least one constant. You are a very special person who has touched so many lives and made everyone’s life that you have touched that much better. No matter what happens, enjoy today. Give yourself permission to be happy and content. Stop! Be still! Just “BE”.
If you ever need anything, even just a shoulder or a hug, I’m just across the street.
Mary

Bless you Mary my dear. You made me cry and I am so grateful to have you and your husband in my life as both neighbors and friends. We all need friends like you and I thank heaven that I’ve got some of the best friends around.

I Gave In

Yesterday I gave in.

At 17 weeks 5 days, I finally bought a few items of maternity clothing.

I popped out to Motherhood Maternity at a local shopping centre and picked up a pair of simple black pants (boot cut) and two summery blouses, one a lovely green that makes my reddish hair colour pop, and the other a pretty cream, olive and peach flowery thing with a bit of lace around the hem and neckline that I fell in love with. Today, for the first time, I wore maternity clothing (the pants) to work, and not just my regular clothing with the tummy sleeve (aka bella band) that I've been making do with until now.

Can you spell "relief" boys and girls? I knew you could!

Honest to heaven, I was so much more comfortable today! I feel like in the last week or two my belly has expanded to incredible proportions and it's become a point of absolute necessity to look for other clothing. Some of my regular shirts are still okay of course, especially those with empire waists and the like. However a few pairs of pants cannot come close to closing around my belly. They fit great in the legs and the ass, but around the tummy? No way! It's downright painful to even try! Frankly, It's starting to get blatantly obvious that I'm "in the family way!" I went back today and picked up an orange coloured T-shirt for summer and a pair of brown pants that will be great when warmer weather hits.

On Wednesday, we have the first of six prenatal classes. I'm still thinking it's way too soon to do anything like that but apparently they advise that you at least start them around your 18th week, and I hit that mark tomorrow. So we'll give it a shot. I still feel like an imposter though. Does that feeling ever go away when you're infertile? I dunno. It's still hard to relax though and enjoy this.

However, that was the exact advice I got from my local RE today. He called bright and early this morning to let us know that he had just received the faxed RAD results and that everything looked perfect. He was genuinely happy for us; I could hear it in his voice. This is the same man who did all our IUIs and who's seen us through 5+ years of TTC. "Gil, you can relax. I promise. It was a pure false positive. The tests on the pertinent chromosomes (aka 13, 18 and 21) are all normal. Try to enjoy this." I countered with, "If the RAD results came back negative, is there ANY POSSIBLE way that the full results that we get in 2 weeks or so could show something different?" He said, "No. Because you already tested negative for spina bifida and neural tube defects, that's been ruled out. And now we've ruled out Down syndrome. So you can truly relax. Please. Try to enjoy this. You've both worked so hard for it and come so far; you need to enjoy this."

He's right. It's long past time I enjoy this.

I think I'm going to put together the nursery furniture this week.

Oh yeah... and how appropriate that hubby and I took Petit to his/her first concert! Great Big Sea played here on Saturday night and we had an absolute blast! The baby Newf likes Newfie music too; I felt a kick or two during some of the most rollicking songs! WOOT!

The Rainbow Appears for One IF Sister

Beth over at Prop Your Hips Up Afterwards has given birth to a beautiful baby girl. NOTE: I will warn you now, clicking on the PLAY button on that video will make you cry; bring tissues. But go watch. You have to see the smile on Beth's face at the end.

On February 23, Leah Catherine made her long-awaited entrance. Beth has endured so very much to carry that precious little life, going through Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG) and a host of other problems during her pregnancy. She's dealt with it all with style and grace.

I confess, when I first started reading IF blogs, I'd surf around, and find the 'normal' mix of tales of bad timing, poor CM quality, needing oral medication, IVF, etc. Then the severity of IF seemed to progress; I found a few blogs discussing injectables and constant monitoring for OHSS. And one day, I stumbled on Beth's blog, with the photo of her swollen belly, bruised from injections, and her tale of HG. My initial reaction was, "Oh God. What this poor woman hasn't done. It must be so hard. Where does she find the strength to go on? How does she do it?" I was in awe. I admire her so very much. She did what she had to do. It wasn't fun. It certainly wasn't easy. But in the end, it was worth it.

So many of my blogging sisters are celebrating the birth of Leah Catherine this week, I wanted to pass on the news as well. Congratulations Beth. You made it. It sure wasn't easy but you did make it. You're a wonderful inspiration. May your new little one bring you all the joy in the world.

Ah ha... that's it!

Today, I write of a revelation of sorts.

I think, in the end, the only thing that might stand in our way *crosses fingers* is that I may merely be Sperm Deficient. Wouldn't it be nice if that was our only problem?

Mundane and yet, not so mundane

There are a few things I need to write about today. Some days I have absolutely nothing to add, but once in awhile, there comes a day that just screams at me, "Write it down!"

There's mundane stuff.
I got a call from my RE's office and the receptionist will pop both CD3 and CD23 bloodwork in the mail to me. Superb! NOT. Twice the blood to take. Ugh. Again, the list for CD23 is rather daunting. They'll be checking glucose, hemoglobin, w.b.c. count, FSH, LH, TSH, T4/T3, Prolactin, Estradiol, Progesterone, Free testosterone, DHEAS, Feratin, Folate, Vit. B12, Insulin and for kicks, BHCG. I rather find that last one funny, don't you? *cue hysterical laughter* Oh my. Quite the sense of humour there! Hee hee!

So I'll have that bloodwork done (with the assistance Lorazepam) between now and whenever hubby and I are ready to try again. The receptionist also told me that when that time comes, call them on CD1. She'll have a prescription for Serophene (Clomid) at the pharmacy for me, and book me for a CD8 u/s to start the injectables. That was a decision hubby and I wanted to discuss too; whether we'd go the injectable route again. Insurance does cover it and it can't hurt, so why not? I mean, other than the fact that I'll be sticking myself with needles every morning again, but hey, we all get used to that, don't we? Seriously. It happens all the time in the TTC community. But do you ever really get used to doing that? And do you ever stop focussing on the reason you're doing that in the first place? Emotionally, it pulls at you every d*mn day. It does for me anyway. Maybe I'm just the weirdo in the mix though. *shrugs* God only knows. Anyway, hubby and I decided that yes, we'll go the injectables route again, combined with the Clomid and the donor. And we'll hope for a better result next time.

And the not so mundane stuff.
One of our good friends made a comment in my blog that really hit home.
"Do put everything that you can into (your goals and dreams) but don't put everything that you are in them." I think that is something many of us need to figure out. How far to go, when to draw the line, and when to realize that you begin to lose yourself along the way and it's time to take it back.

Realistically speaking, not all my goals and dreams can or will come true. And at the end of the day, I have to live with myself and who I am inside. If I make my life completely IF-focussed, I lose so much of who I am as a person. To do that would mean I would discount the fact that I've done and seen so very much in this world that many people never have the opportunity to do or see. I would toss away the fact that I am blessed to have a loving, caring husband who would give me the moon if he could and for whom I would readily give my life if I had to. I would not consider the fact that I'm a sensible, capable woman who is an independent, productive member of society. I would forget the fact that I have a wonderful family and many friends who love me very much and want nothing but the best for me. I would ignore that I am a sensitive, sympathetic, generous person who tries to do her best in just about everything. None of those wonderful things would be a part of me if I lose myself in the IF world. And I'm not willing to let those great things go.

My sister wrote me an e-mail awhile ago (I saved it sis; forgive me?!) when I posted about being a failure at this IF journey. And I'm going to take the liberty to reprint it here for you.

I was so mad when I read your message! Raging mad! You are NOT a failure! Anyone that has family and friends who love them as much as yours do is NOT a failure. I repeat - NOT a failure. You are far from it. You're intelligent, witty, charismatic, caring, generous, hard-working (I could
go on and on for years). You may not have had any success with getting pregnant but that does not constitute a failure - in any way. Do you understand what I am saying to you? You are exploring all your options and doing everything you can to conceive a child - that does not reflect someone who is a failure. So get that stoooopid idea out of your head right now and get on with it. Yes, you're allowed to cry mope around for a while, but that's it! You don't have the luxury of giving up and being a depressed lump! That is not who you are - I know it because I've known you your whole life - don't forget! I may be younger than you but I know a thing or two as well, and sometimes you have to listen to me for a change. Got it?

Yup. I got it. Thanks sis. I needed that. For those moments when I feel like I need a kick in the pants or I just need to remember that so many people do care about me, and that IF is not all that I am, I kept this message and I read it.

So for those of you who "get it" or "need to get it," there you go. Straight from the mouth of my sister.

Florida Vacation

So it's been a busy week. Can't you tell?



Hubby and I went with my family up to Orlando to the Magic Kingdom. A friend had requested this pic, so I thought I'd share it with you.

A smile. Yeah. And it's on MY face. Colour me surprised. That happens so rarely lately.

Hubby commented yesterday (while we sat in the hot tub with coconut rum drinks in hand) that he's seen me relax a great deal in the last week or so. Slowly but surely the heavy weight seems to be floating away.

It was until last night that is. My mom and aunts, being fans of Rod Stewart, wanted to watch the Christmas special that was on TV last night. I was wiping the table after dinner when it came on and lo and behold, the title of the Christmas special was "A Home for the Holidays," Rod Stewart's contribution to... finding homes for adopted children. I just couldn't watch. I fled to the bedroom to have a little cry, resolving myself NOT to ruin my family's vacation. Mom saw my face and followed me to the bedroom. She wrapped her arms around me and I said, "I'm sorry. I won't ruin your vacation. I won't." I sat down on the bed, head in my hands and she sat down next to me, put her hand on my back and said, "I was waiting for this. Gil... you ARE my vacation honey." Words cannot express how thankful I was at that precise moment to have my mom close to me.

She soon left and I flipped on the TV to see what ELSE was on. I came across a rerun of Reba; the episode where Reba's teenage daughter Cheyenne gives birth. Then another Christmas holiday thing; an abandoned baby on a doorstep. Then yet another Christmas thing with a child's Christmas pageant being portrayed. Argh!!!! That was when hubby and I mixed drinks and went to the hot tub. When all seems lost, coconut rum numbs the pain. Temporarily at least.

Here's hoping I can avoid the Christmas weekend touchy-feely specials that all seem to include children. My emotions can't handle that very well right now.

Sending love to you all in blogland and certainly much love to Smarshy and M at this difficult time. I hope your holidays with the Buggins bring you joy, happiness and a sense of wonderment at this special time of the year. *hugs*

Poetry and Prayer

First up, the poetry. I nominate Flicka for poem of the year. I laughed so hard, tears came to my eyes. Go peek at Merry Christmas Infertilnet; The Infertile Night before Christmas. It's superb. *claps and cheers* Well done!

Now the prayer. It's Saturday morning. I have a crazy day planned and if it would please God, I would like to ask that AF not arrive to dampen my spirits. I am not supposed to test until Monday. I think I've been holding off because I don't want a negative to ruin my day, weekend, week, whatever. I just keep praying. Do prayers get answered? I don't know. Are they heard? I think so, but who can be sure?

Regardless, my day goes on. Today we get to spend some time with hubby's children. They are such a joy. I love them dearly. They called the other night, his daughter spoke with me first (hubby was out shopping).
She asked, "So, Saturday is the last day we get to see you before Christmas and before your trip right?"
I replied, "Yes, it is sweetie. Why, was there something you wanted to do? Something special?"
"Well, (my brother) and I thought it would be neat to go for a drive to Taffy Lane."
*laughter from me* "Of course hon! We make sure we take you guys to Taffy Lane EVERY year. Don't worry. We'll go on Saturday. I promise. Your dad and I had already thought about doing that with you."
*squeals of delight from her* "YAY!"

Let me explain. Here in the city, there is a street named Taffy Lane. There are probably about 50 or 60 homes on the street. But, every year, every single home is decorated to the nines. It's like some unwritten code of conduct that the residents of Taffy Lane adhere to and implicitly agree to when they move onto the street. (By the way, if that interests you, there's one home for sale there right now.) It's SO decorated, that the city puts up temporary "One Way" signs to modify the traffic pattern; otherwise too many automobile accidents would occur. It's SO decorated that they have a reindeer crossing sign decorated with lights put up near one of the hedges. It's SO decorated that each year, one of the residents dresses up as St. Nick himself and will (after he asks permission to do so) open up the back door of your vehicle to hand candy canes to your children and ask them what they want for Christmas. I kid you not. It's spectacular. And all the more magical when a lovely coating of powdered snow lies on the ground and big fluffy flakes fall all around. You can park at a nearby lot and stroll down one side of the street and back up the other side to take it all in. It really is something to see. I ought to try to take a picture this year.

Okay, enough of my blathering. I'm going to go on with my day. And hope that AF doesn't show up. Please Lord, let this be the one.

Some optimism?

I've been keeping an eye on my temps. And, thank goodness, so has Fertility Friend (FF)... the software I use to track cycle information.

This morning, after I entered my temp, I scrolled a bit to read the analysis that FF spat out at me. "Possibly triphasic on day 20." Well now, that is good! Never, in all the months, nay, years of charting, have I ever seen a triphasic chart that belongs to me. So that is really good to hear.

I know it doesn't necessarily MEAN anything. But it gives me some optimism. And while I'm running around frenetically (much as I was in my last post too), in the back of my mind that little word sticks out, "triphasic." And I continue to hope.

CD22 and counting. Hugs to my fellow bloggers!

CD21; aka 8dp dIUI #1

Dear Lord... how do I keep myself from going stark raving mad in this 2ww? I mean seriously! I am doing my darndest to keep busy, to not obsess, to focus on good things, to not let the progesterone turn me into a mad woman (although hubby had serious doubts about the success of THAT endeavor yesterday!), to not think about POAS, to think positively, etc. I'm fretting like some woman on crack about my temps, I'm choosing new flooring for the little bedroom with new décor for a 'maybe baby' in mind... I think I've lost it. I think I'm ready to jump off the bridge of insanity. Honest to goodness. It's nuts. Or maybe I'm just nuts. I've no idea anymore. *runs around frantically hither and yon, wide-eyed and hyperventilating*

I wish I felt something, anything, to indicate that this dIUI worked. I think that is where my brain is right now... just wishing that there was some sort of sign that would take me out of limboland and put me definitively on one side of the fence or the other. How do you all manage? What keeps you from POAS every day? What stops you from obsessing? And/or what was your first inkling that "this may have worked"?

Donor IUI #1... *gulps*

At today's 8 a.m. appointment, the endometrium was measured to be nice and thick, there are LOTS of follies on both sides, however they haven't released yet, despite the HCG trigger yesterday morning. It's likely that they'll come out to play later today.

So with that optimistic outlook, the doctor did the first IUI with donor sperm. He used half the sample, the second half of which we'll use tomorrow morning at my 6:45 a.m. appointment. And I was given a prescription for 200 mg of progesterone to start tonight before bed, for 14 days.

Hubby and I had a look at the donor sample and we remarked that even the colour was different. There are obvious differences in ejaculate for men who have had a vasectomy from those who have not, for example, colour, consistency, quantity (believe it or not, hubby saw drop in quantity of ejaculate after his vasectomy when he was told that he would likely not see any difference), and um... "shooting distance." None of those things really matter in the long run of course. As long as we have good sperm to work with, that is what matters when trying to have a baby. So you do what you have to. And for us, we are doing the right thing.

So now I am going to take it easy for the day and keep my fingers crossed. I might go with hubby and my stepchildren out to see "Happy Feet" (the movie) later. Good endorphins can only help, right?