Saturday, August 27, 2011

Round 13 in a 12 Round Fight

I saw something startling today.  Startling.

Viva la Vida was last on multiple favorite lists because my posts are so old.  Which would put me last. 

Dead.  Last.

Again.

It seems that if you fall asleep for a few days (six to be exact)...the blogsphere will pass you by.  You know how I feel about getting "lapped" from my prior (old) post so I guess I better get my fingers moving again.

Where to start?....

Hummm....

What to say?...

Let me see....

Okay.  Let me just be honest.  I haven't been blogging much because for the last 72 days, 10 hours, 32 minutes and 17 seconds...I've been busy.  Really. Really. Really. Busy.  Trying to figure out how to manipulate my husband.

There.  I said it.

You heard me right - I want to manipulate Mr. Thompson.  Shameful, I know... but oh-so true. 

Like every longstanding infertile, I've been plotting....planning...and scheming ways to keep my dearly beloved in the ring and fighting infertility a little longer.  Although we predetermined, as a tag-teaming duo, at what point we were going to throw in the towel...I've decided that I'm not ready to admit defeat.  I'm not ready to give up the fight.
 
In my defense - I've been trying...honestly trying...to be content with a family of two. But as hard as I try to forget a family of three (or four, or five...) my mind starts working in overdrive to remember it.  After nearly five years, too many negative pregnancy tests to count, round after round of IUIs, round after round of IVF...and every treatment option and scenario in between...I'm not quite ready to admit defeat. 

According to the rules of boxing there are four ways to win;
  1. If the opponent is knocked out and unable to get up before the referee counts to ten seconds (a knockout or KO)
  2. If the opponent is deemed too injured to continue (a technical knockout, or TKO)
  3. If an opponent is disqualified for breaking a rule
  4. If there is no stoppage of the fight before an agreed number of rounds, a winner is determined either by the referee's decision or by judges' scorecards
#4 is the one that gets me.  It's that whole "agreed number of rounds" thing.  Which is why I need to resort to manipulation.  Or something.

Or maybe not.

After twisting my little mind with ways to get Mr. Thompson up off the floor before we get disqualified...I have learned two things. 
  1. Once upon a time there were 15 rounds in boxing instead of 12.
  2. I just found out that our insurance carrier is changing at work (which was actually #28 on my list of how we can keep hope burning alive) ...so you know what this may mean, right?!
More infertility coverage!

(and I won't even  have to manipulate after all - merely convince.)

Viva la Vida.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Emptiness

This is what I want to remember today. It's from the recently published book by Laura Bush:


The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful some not...

But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives.

Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?



Finishing The Race

Once upon a time I used to be a Track Star.

Yes, you heard me right.  A Track Star.  As in Track and Field

The Time:  1990
The Place:  "Nappy, I-Dee-Ho" (as my New York chums call my hometown)
The Scene:  The infamous Bulldog Bowl - the stadium where "Nappy" high school dreams were made.

It was like a scene from Chariots of Fire.  Except the fact that I hadn't ever run track before....and that I wasn't on a beach.

I was in Bulldog Bowl.

Looking good and feeling good in my new "Nappy" High School track shorts and tank top.  One thing about citizens of my hometown - they always filled up the high school stadium.  So there I was...on the starting line for the first time, in front of a crowd of people, feeling a whole lot of anticipation and anxiety

Get Ready...

Get Set...

Go!

And off I went.  Really fast.  Really - Really - REALLY fast.  Surprising even myself by how fast I could run.  I distinctly remember the crowd going wild - for me - the pack leader who was clearly killing the competition.  I flew past those girls.  I flew past that stadium of screaming fans.  I FLEW I say!  Like I had wings on my back and rockets in my shoes.

And that was the day that I became a Track Star.

For exactly 18.2 seconds.  Until I remembered about 1/2 a lap into it that I was a Sprinter running a distance race.  800 meters to be exact (two track laps).  Which is when the wings on my back lost their aerodynamics and the rockets in my shoes lost their super boost.

My clear lead became less of a lead until one girl finally caught up to pass me.  Then another. And another. And another....and another.

When I hit the one lap mid-mark I was sure that my lungs were going to burst and I was going to die. At 1 1/4 laps I couldn't even see the backs of those other girls.

At 1 1/2 laps the race was over and I was still running it.  Alone.

And those once adoring screaming fans....were now laughing at me.  Because I didn't just come in last. I came in dead last.

Dead.

And that was the day that I learned the important lesson about pacing yourself. 

Which is a lot like Infertility.  You stand at the starting line looking good and feeling better.  The crowd goes wild for you.  You start running and you're WINNING...

Until your body starts to fail you and you slow down when everyone else speeds up.

Pretty soon you get lapped by friends, foes and anyone else running the baby race against time.

Again.

And Again.

And Again.

And Again.

But years later you still live in the glory of those 18.2 seconds that you were a Track Star winning.  Kind of like the 24 weeks that you actually got to beat infertility.

For a moment.

In the end, when you sit on the sidelines in shame for all that you lost...your mom and your best friend come down from the stadium to put their arms around you and remind you that it's just important that you ran.  That you gave everything that you had towards finishing the race.

Because you did.  And you are.

Friday, August 19, 2011

All In A Days Work

Remember the days that I used to post daily?  Not to mention when I occasionally had something interesting to say?

Yeah...gone are those days.

Since our last IF treatment...this is what my life (or lack thereof) looks life:

5:30am - Wake up and hit the snooze button every 5 minutes.
6:30am - Stop hitting the snooze button and actually roll out of bed.
7:20am - Join the rat race on the freeway.
8:00am - Start a different kind of rat race.
12:00pm - Laugh in the face of the lunch that I blocked out on my schedule in an effort to "turn over a new leaf".  Work through it.
5:00pm - Start taking calls from Mr. Thompson who is impatiently waiting in parking lot.
5:01pm - Another call...
5:02pm - Another call...
5:04pm - Another call...
5:10pm - Realize that I've pushed it as far as I can push it without having to walk home.  Sigh and turn out the lights on the pile of paperwork which is left sitting on my desk.
5:15pm - Slowly merge onto the freeway for the turtle crawl home.
6:15pm - Roll in the door, throw down my bag and let loose my hair.
6:18pm - Race to put on my pajamas.
6:30pm - Plead fatigue and wave at Mr. Thompson as he heads to the gym.
6:31pm - Think about cooking dinner.
6:33pm - Keep thinking about it...
6:36pm - Still thinking...
6:40pm - Still thinking...
7:00pm - Finally make a decision (which means that Entertainment Tonight is over).
7:30pm - Cook Burn dinner and act like I've been really busy as Mr. Thompson gets back from the gym.
8:00pm - Water my flowers and garden, pull weeds, play with my dog and lay in my hammock
8:30pm - Attempt to play my bagpipes until the noise is so bad that I have to put them back down.
9:00pm - Feel bad for not going to the gym with Mr. Thompson and only playing with the dog for 3.2 minutes.  Take the dog on a walk around the block as a consultation prize. (and yes - I'm still in my pajamas)
9:30pm - Plead fatigue and go to bed.
9:45pm - Chat on the phone with at least 3 members of my family.
10:00pm- Wrap up my calls and turn on the evening news.
10:30pm - Think about going to sleep....
11:00pm - Take a hot bath as the last resort for relaxation.
11:30pm  - Snuggle with Mr. Thompson when my last resort doesn't work (which always works!)

There you have it.  Not much of a "Year of Fun", is it?!  I think that I need to bring the spice back as it appears that I've replaced TTC hope/treatments/focus with boredom.

Seriously.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

The Other Side

Getting over it. 


Above it. 


Beyond it.


...That is where my head is at right now.  And if when I get there, I'm sure that the view will be worth it!



Thursday, August 11, 2011

S.O.S.


Confession:  Although I smile all the time (and am extremely grateful for all that I have!)...I haven't had anything snappy or smart to write lately as evident on Viva la Vida.  This makes me think that I may be losing my mojo and fun factor.  (Oh no.  Smoke signal.  Send reinforcements quick!)


...maybe it's because my friend and her new baby girl are going through a really hard time.  (Please keep Because Nice Matters in your prayers)

...maybe it's in part because my laptop died and I've lost five years of family photos (note to self: don't procrastinate. ever. again.)

...maybe it's because I've discovered that it's harder to lose the weight than it was to put it on. Why is that?!

...maybe it's because I'm a sadomasochist and took the digital ovulation predictor kit out of it's hiding place.

...maybe it's due to Provera - anyone ever taken that med?

...maybe it's thanks to my self-soothing tactics of 5am workdays.

...maybe it has something to do with the flowers I took to the cemetery with my niece.  Although I didn't cry...I didn't fall down in great gaels of laughter either.  /(Why does infertility just make infant loss feel so much worse?!)

...maybe it's because while I know where I've been on this infertility journey...I have no idea where I am going.

...maybe it's because I need a summer vacation to recharge (or at least a day at the amusement park).

...maybe it's just my hormones regulating after 5 years of being on a medicated yo-yo.


Maybe.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Tender Mercies

My feelings are really tender today.  After much anticipation, one of my dearest friends had her baby this morning... and her little Emily needs a lot of warm thoughts and prayers.

Because Nice Matters has taught me a lot about quiet grace, faith and strength through the years... and she has been the kind of cherished friend that only comes along once (or twice in my case) during a lifetime.  Please, oh please, send some prayers her way.

I've learned over the last several years that you wouldn't wish infant loss on your worst enemy.  And for a best friend...well...you'd do anything to prevent it.

Any of it.  All of it.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Yin & Yang's Year of Fun

If there is one thing that Mr. Thompson would change about me....it's definitely my television viewing habits.  Simply put:  he hates what I watch on TV.

Period.

If it doesn't involve the History, Discovery, or National.Geographic channels...then it's crap in his opinion.  If it doesn't involve a bunch of guys running around the woods with their night-vision goggles looking for a lost "Sasquatch"...then it's double crap. 

As the "Yin" to his "Yang", I on the other hand., love all things reality.  If it sings, dances, races around the world, hides money, is looking for love in all the wrong places and/or involves famous people (or people who want to be famous people)...I watch while Mr. Thompson moans from the other room.

Until today. 

Things were strangely quiet as I watched Giulianna & Bill discuss this season of their reality show and how they are taking a year off from worrying about their failed IVF and baby woes.  My peanut gallery suspicions were correct when I heard Mr. Thompson cheer at their idea of spending a whole year just having fun and taking the focus off of their desire to have a family. 

"A Year Of Fun".

Which in my world is known as "Viva la Vida" so bring back the candles and romance!  I'll sing, I'll dance, I'll travel and will race around the house looking for hidden money....but do you think my Year of Fun will also involve looking for a lost Sasquatch?...

Something tells me that yes, yes it will.

(Which is why I don't feel bad about secretly buying Dr. Sami David's book "Making Babies" today. It's supposed to be a proven holistic approach so all is not totally lost.  Although we're stepping back from infertility for a while...I figure that fun people read too, right?!.  If I have to, I'll just fib and tell Nature Boy that it came highly recommended from his Sasquatch.)

Viva la Vida.

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