Body Sprays, Hospitals, and Xeroform

Have you ever noticed that smells fill so much more than our nostrils? Yesterday I was rummaging around in my bathroom drawer and I came across some leftover body spray I used last summer. I sprayed a puff into the air and took a deep breath. After coughing from the fumes, my mind drifted back to the apartment we lived in while our house was being built.

I remembered lazy days at the pool (okay – I wish they were lazy, but I quickly remembered that I was entertaining an-almost-three-year-old, so lazy isn’t exactly the word for it…).

I remembered peaceful nights sipping wine. Wait, no I don’t. We were building a house and living out of boxes in a confined space!

I remembered summer days of no worries. Wait. We were going through fertility treatments. Worry is the only thing we did.

So, I can’t help but wonder – do our minds block out the bad stuff so at first glance (or wiff), we only remember the good? Is this a personality trait some of us are blessed with or is it a subconscious choice we make? Either way, I’m glad I remember the good and the bad comes back only if I let it.

So that brings me to present day. Will the smell of a hospital bring about pictures of Rich tied down in a bed, or will it remind me of the outpouring of love I felt during my lowest time? Will the scent of Xeroform pads remind me of late night dressing changes or Dr. Annessa assisting me? I have a feeling it might be a little of both. And that’s okay.

Serious Cuteness

I just have to publish this picture - her three-year-old preschool picture. She is snoring softly beside me (aside from the whole teeth-grinding-thing) and I can't help but wonder how I got so darn lucky to be this girl's mom?

Joy

Celebrating the New Year with dear friends

Joy. That is my "One Little Word" for the year. Okay, so it's been my O.L.W. for the past year, but hey - if it's not broke don't fix it, right? And besides. We could use a little joy around here anyway.

It's been awhile since I've written (on here - check out Caring Bridge and you will see a play-by-play of the last 3 months). In the book of James, God tells us to have JOY in the time of SUFFERING. Suffering develops character, perseverance and all that jazz. So, that is my motto for the year - Joy in suffering. Joy in the everyday mundane rituals. Joy in going to work. Joy in being home. Joy. After all, life is too short to wait to be joyful. Why should I only have joy on the weekends? Summer? Christmas break? No - nothing is too stressful to steal my joy.

Amen.

Dear School

Dear School,

Tomorrow I give you my daughter. For three years, she has been under my care and now she will enter your halls. Since we will share her for the next 15 years, there are some things I think you should know about her.

She is my angel. My heartbeat. My life. She is grouchy in the morning, but by 8:30, she is a ball of energy. She is talkative and social, but when she gets excited, she wraps her body around my legs and buries her face. From the time she was born she has always been happy. She loves to run and jump, yet she also loves to dress-up like a princess and copy me when I put on my make-up. She knows that Jesus is in her heart, and she will probably tell other kids that Jesus is in their hearts too.

Take care of her. In your walls, she will learn how to read and write; add and subtract. But she will also learn about gossip, about cliques, about winning and losing. Take care or her and I will too. Help me teach her to love learning. Help me teach her to stand up for what is right, even when it might cause her pain. Help me teach her that each day is full of chances to be kind and helpful. Help me teach her how to be herself.

Tomorrow, my daughter will enter your halls full of smiles and confidence. In 15 years, may she leave the way she came.

No Dice

The last time I wrote seems like a life-time ago. So much has happened yet nothing has changed. Our IUI was not successful. Rich and I made a pact that this would be our last fertility treatment for awhile. I think I have subconsciously avoided writing about it because when I see it here in black and white then it is real.

I spent a day being absolutely mad. There is no other word to describe how I felt. The worst part of it was I didn't have anyone to direct my anger at. Myself? The doctors? God? In truth, it is none of our faults. I found out I wasn't pregnant on a Wednesday morning. I pulled a 7th-grade- girl move and texted Rich. Yep - I texted him to let him no that I was not pregnant. Classy, I know. I just couldn't make the words come out of my mouth. And I didn't say those words (or any variation of those words) until around noon. I had to meet with our interior decorator (no - it's really not like that - she's our builder's wife and she is the one who helps pick out all the inside stuff).

Anyway, we were finalizing paint colors that day. In my mind, the third bedroom was always going to be a nursery. After all, we started this fertility journey almost a year before we even moved out of our old house, so it was a safe bet I'd either have a baby or be pregnant by the time we moved in. I had chosen a cheery yellow color (Despite the fact that every baby website says, "If you have a yellow nursery, your baby won't sleep. Whatever.)


"The only thing we need to change is the color of the third bedroom. It can't be yellow. I don't care what color you paint it, just not yellow." I was barely holding it in at this point.

Amy (the decorator/builder's wife who knew about our treatments since I would sometimes have to excuse myself from meetings to give myself a shot) looked at me and said, "Oh honey, I am so sorry."

Now under normal circumstances, her calling me "honey" would be weird, but that day it was just what I needed.

"It didn't work. I'm not pregnant." There I said it out loud. I'm really not pregnant. No more imagining that maybe the bloating I am feeling isn't due to the hormones I am on-it's an early pregnancy symptom. No more counting weeks to guess my due date. No more listing baby names in my head (because writing it down would surely jinx it). No more hoping. Now, we knew.

Thank God for my mom who let me break down on the phone while Rich went for a run that night. He worries so much about me that I couldn't do that to him again.

Then, I got up in the morning, sat on my daughter's bed and realized I have everything I've ever wanted in life.

"Mama, can we go fwimming (the s-blends are are little tough for her...)?"

Life goes on.

"Yep, let's go. Race ya to the pool!"

Placing Bets

So we went through with the IUI. Our Doctor pretty much told us that this was the perfect set-up and that I only have a 25% chance of getting pregnant anyway. He also said that if we DO get pregnant, it's a 75% chance that it is a "singleton" - that's doctor speak for "one baby." Needless to say, we felt better after hearing those odds and decided to place a bet. And honestly, that is what it feels like right now - like we are trying to beat the odds. It boggles my mind how there is only a 25% chance of pregnancy when he shot that sperm so far into my fallopian tube, I thought the plastic tubey-thing was going to pop right out of my bellybutton!

Rich and I had a long talk about whether or not this is a "God-created" pregnancy or a "man-created" pregnancy. I guess when man has done all that he can and there is still only a 25% chance you will get pregnant; the rest is up to God...

I was soooo crampy after this IUI. Thank God for my mom who had Annessa all day. I went to her house, crawled in her bed, and slept for 3 hours. But, let me make something clear: I am not a wuss when it comes to pain. I mean no one that goes through fertility treatments is: you have daily shots that make your overaries blow up, vaginal ultrasounds 2-3 times a month, a shot in the ass, and it ends with a guy sticking a catheter as far as he can up each fallopian tube. So as far as me complaining about pain - I generally don't. BUT this time it hurt. The procedure literally took my breath away. Then, it didn't help that my wonderful husband was trying to lighten the mood by busting out terrible jokes. It actually hurt to laugh. Plus, I think the real reason I needed a nap was that I was just emotionally drained. I actually cried after it was over - not because of the pain, but because of the emotional let-down.

So now we wait. 14 LLOOONNNGGG days. I am making a promise to this damn blog not to test sooner than next week Friday. I will not. I have been there, done that. No need for anymore false hope.

So in the meantime, I get to enjoy my daughter (who is impressing us with her soccer skills and wakes up every morning asking, "Are we going to Disney World today? Mama, I NEED to see Cinderella. I NEED to give her a hug.") and my husband (who is impressing me with.....umm....his jokes?) who has more character and determination than I will ever have.

Goldilocks

When it rains it pours. Last month when we went through all of the fertility "stuff" we were told I had no lining, and no mature eggs. Now this month, my lining is great and I have up to five (yes 5!!!!) mature eggs. It sounds great in theory, but in reality I DO NOT want to me the next Octo-mom. On second thought, maybe I could call up TLC and get us on a reality show...So now we are faced with a decision - do we go through with this month, knowing that the risk of multiples is high, or do we wait. And wait. And wait.

The doctor tells me that the chances of all five implanting are very slim. Even four would be a long-shot. But still, he had to talk to me about "selective reduction." So of course I did what any smart woman would do: I Googled it. Basically, in selective reduction, they insert a long needle into your tummy, find an embryo, and inject it with a solution that makes it go lifeless. Lifeless. Women that chose this option often felt guilt and shame; however, the rest of their babies had a better chance of life.

This conflicts with everything I believe. I sit here at such a loss - do we go through with it and hope we get one (or two) babies? I mean this is the best chance we've had for a sibling for Annessa in over a year. Or, do we pass. I feel like Goldilocks- too hot, too cold, just right. Will We ever find our "just right?" Is this it?