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?

McDonald's, French Fries, and God

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14

The other day Annessa and I were at McDonald's (I know, not the most healthy choice, but what am I supposed to do with an almost-3-year-old after 3 straight days of rain? Oh, and did I mention we live an an APARTMENT so there is no basement to send her to so she can run off her energy...)

ANYWAY, back to McDonald's. Annessa had just finished her chicken nuggets and fries so I told her she could go play in the playland (hey, I least I insist that she eats the junk BEFORE she plays...). ANYWAY, back to my story.

I'm sitting at a table, talking to a friend when I hear Annessa talking to a little boy. "Do you go to church?" She asks as they trade happymeal toys (side note: nice sharing Ness!)

"No," says the boy.

"I go to church. I learn about Jesus. You can learn about Jesus too."

Are you kidding me??? Did my little almost-3-year-old just MINISTER to a little boy at McDonald's??! Amazing. Maybe if we could all be like kids, life on earth would be sweeter.

Oh, and God, if you could help me make the switch from fries to apple slices, that would be great....

You and Me

Dear Annessa,

We just had one of the best days! I am so mad that I didn't take pictures of it (I was afraid my camera would get ruined by the sand) so I decided to document it by writing it down.

I took you to Winneconne - but not just to Mummie's house. I showed you the Winneconne I knew as a girl. We went to Marble park and had a picnic while we waited for the beach to open. You had no interest in the hot dog, yogurt, and grapes I packed. you were just so happy to play on the play ground toys (I think you are missing your swing set while we're at the apartment).

Then, we went into the beach, and to my surprise, NOTHING has changed. They still rotate the lifeguards the same way, the workers still color a name tag for their baskets in the break room, and they still hand-write out the numbers and the names for the pass list. But ANYWAY, about us....We spent the afternoon crawling in the water on our tummies, building a little city in the sand (you built a church and I built a school), jumping off the dock, me swinging you around in the water, and eating Popsicles on our towel while we watched kids swim. It was absolutely perfect.

Then, to top it all off, we ended the day with ice cream at The Well (my very first place of employment...). We sat at the picnic table closest to the road and watched the cars drive by.

In all my years sitting at the life guard stand, I always watched the moms and their kids. Today, I was one of those moms, and you, my precious you, were my kid.

I love you,
Mom

Joy

(An oldie but goodie)

Little things that gave me joy today....

• smelling the star-gazer lilies that Rich got me when I walked in the door after a long day
  
• big purses that I can stick everything in from my chap-stick to a 160z bottle of Dew
• my black hat that hides the fact that I didn't wash my hair today so that I could sleep an extra 15 minutes
  
• Annessa stopping in the middle of the stairs to tell me she loves me
• reconnecting with a friend
• a compliment from a co-worker
• a soft serve ice cream cone
• being bare foot
• the seasonal gas-station-coffee flavor: s'mores!
• seeing Annessa jump up and down when I pulled into her sitter's driveway
• watching Annessa make two new friends
  
• learning something new that will make me a better teacher and reading specialist
• being able to help someone "get it"
• listening to Annessa read
• a back rub from Rich
• manicotti that tastes even better the second day
• taking a walk with Rich and Annessa to see the geese
• talking on the phone to my mom
  

Ex's

I've come to the conclusion that moving is a bit like breaking up with a boyfriend. Let me explain. When you break up with a boyfriend, it is always bitter sweet. There is a part of you that knows it's time to move on - the are more fish in the sea and all that. Yet, there is a part of you that is afraid to let go of the comfortable - the KNOWN.

That is how I felt moving out of our house on Cumberland Drive. I knew it was time to move on. We were bursting at the seams - either Rich was going to have to get rid of some fishing gear, or I was going to have to sell some purses (and we both knew that was Not Happening). Or maybe I could have issued ban on new toys (yeah, right. Have you met my mother?) Yes, our new house will have more closet space. And a toy room.

But, on the other hand, what if we look back at Cumberland and realize that life was so much simpler there? What if our neighbors don't laugh at Rich's dumb jokes like Jack and Gretchyn did? What if I can't find a new grocery store I like? What if the new house never feels like home?

When I was cleaning the house, erasing any evidence that our family had lived there for close to seven years, I noticed a little hand print on the wall. Normally, I would be annoyed. But not that day. Tears welled up in my eyes. I hesitated.... Annessa won't be making hand prints here anymore....

I dipped my rag into the bucket and erased the hand print so that the new family could start fresh.