She Turned a Year Old Yesterday...

It's a date I shouldn't remember, but I do.

I wish my brain could forget it, but it can't.

She was almost ours; she was almost our daughter.

I hate that I remembered her birthday.

I didn't want to say anything to Michael. I didn't except him to remember, and I wasn't going to hold it against him if he forgot. I was actually avoiding him, because I didn't want to tell him why I was sad. But when he asked what was wrong, I started to cry and said,

"She's a year old today."

"I know. I know it's her birthday."

Hearing him say that was like a breath of fresh air. I felt so reassured that he remembered too. I didn't feel so alone in my grief. I started to cry in earnest. Telling him that I need to forget this date. It's not healthy to keep remembering and holding onto something that is not mine.

I have to let her go if I'm to move onto to the next match, whenever that may be.

Happy Birthday, baby girl. Wherever you are, I hope you had a great birthday yesterday. I need to stop thinking about what our lives would be like if you were in it. It's not healthy for me to keep wishing you were here with us. It's not good for me to remember how old you would be each 3rd of the month.  I'm sorry things didn't workout. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to be your mom. Have a good life. Be a good girl. This is goodbye.

Love,
Jonelle

Lost

No not the TV show (though I probably shouldn't admit that I have only ever watched the first 8 episodes and the series finale), I'm talking about where I'm at right now.

I'm so lost and more than ever I'm struggling with where I fit in the ALI community. Michael and I aren't doing treatment anymore. We are not actively trying (though we are not preventing, but our chances of conceiving on our own are slim). And while we are a family of 2, we are not "officially" a family of 2 yet. Though we are in the waiting stages of DIA, it doesn't feel like we are doing anything.

I don't really know what direction God wants us to take as far as building our family. I know I can ask, but I think part of me is afraid to hear the answer. Because what if the answer is no children. What if the direction is remaining a family of 2.

And I'll admit, part of me is scared that that is where we are headed. ('Scared' might be the wrong word, but I can't think of the right one because I've been crying for the last 2 1/2 hours.) I know that if that was the plan for us, we would be okay. We would be sad, and might have to go back to grief counseling, but we would be okay. And really I don't want to be scared.

We haven't come to making that decision yet, but I know its there. Waiting to be discussed and thought about. Again, I know it wouldn't be a bad thing, because at least it would be an answer and we would know that we had done everything possible to build our family.

I did something stupid today. Something I knew I shouldn't have done. Something I knew that if I did do it, I would be in a horrible state...I looked a dear friend's baby registry. Now I can't stop crying. I just keep thinking about all the things we would have had, and all the experiences we would have been enjoying (and some maybe not so much) had the adoption gone through.

She's 4 months old today, and she's not with me. And instead of caring for her, I'm caring for a 5 mo old kitten with ringworm (not that I'm complaining, he's a sweet little guy, I'm just laying out the perspective).

*headdesk*

I'm just so tired of the waiting and uncertainty that comes with this whole sucky IF journey. I am forever exhausted of fighting to become a mom, but as hard as this fight is - I can't stop until I'm told to stop, and right now I don't feel God telling us to stop. And right now I'm afraid to ask when we should stop.

*double headdesk*

I'll get this figured out eventually, but today my head is pounding.

Putting a Time Line on Grief

I'm trying to enjoy the upcoming Christmas season...but really I can care less. I've partically decorated our apartment, which means I've put a red tablecloth on the kitchen table and replaced the everyday placemates and seat cushions to the Christmas ones.

I feel like I'm suppose to be joyful and really...I'm not feeling the joy.

I feel like I should be over the grief from the failed adoption, but I'm not. I know my pain isn't unique. I know that there are people out there in the ALI community that have gone through much worse. And really, I think we were quite fortunate that the adoption fell through a week before the baby was born, so it shouldn't feel so horrible, but I do.


I just hate that we have to go through the grieving process again. Its so exhausting, and its so much harder during Christmas. I'd like to be over this by January, but I don't think I can put a timeline on grief. Can I?


Church is becoming a hard place to go to lately. Nearly everyone knows what happened, which is making me feel a bit exposed.

There's a new baby at our church. The interim pastor was holding her on Sunday and my heart hitched as I looked at him hold her while talking to her parents. I looked away, and as I did, I met the eyes of a woman who knows what happened to us. I felt ashamed that I got caught looking at the baby.

To help me survive December, I'm looking forward to January - we are getting a new kitten. Hopefully, Jack will be up for having a new sibling.

Learning to Dream again...

...is the title of the new series our Pastor is teaching at church.

I'm not going to lie, my first reaction to reading the topic title brought out a cynical side of me I try to closet away while at church.

But the cynical voice wouldn't shut up. Before his sermon even started, all I kep hearing in my head was, "Dreams are dangerous. They crumble to dust and have to be mourned."

Not really something one wants floating around in their brain before church, but when you've had to go through eleven months of therapy to mourn the dream of having your own children and grieve the losses that come with infertilty, and now a failed adoption - the concept of dreams or dreaming is useless, tiring and painful.

I'm sure I failed to listen at the most important parts of the sermon, because I couldn't hear them over my brain saying, "But you don't understand what dreaming has cost me, so why would I want to continue to dream?"

Its not like my dream is an impossible dream. Its tangible (sure, I just lack working ovaries, one tube and balanced hormones), but I don't think my dream is all that complicated.  Its very simple.  I just want a baby in my arms. I want to be a mother. I want to be happy. And I've done everything I can to accomplish this dream.

I charted my cycles, saw an RE, did treatments. Got pregnant twice, miscarried twice. When treatments failed we decided to pursue adoption. We found an agency, had a homestudy, waitied, got matched, match failed. Now we are waiting again.

I've done all this and still nothing but tears and heartache. This is what dreaming has cost me.

As cynical as I can be about the concept of dreaming, maybe I'm blaming the wrong person for them not coming true. Its easy to blame God, or myself, for this dream not coming true. Because really who else is there to blame? I can blame infertility, but whose to blame for why I am infertile?

I don't want to sound like a bitter believer, but I'd by lying if I said that part of me doesn't blame God. I know that is a horrible thing to say. But God understands, and I don't constantly blame Him for everything.

I know God has chosen a particular path for us, and I know that I'll never understand why He chose for us to walk this bumpy, and painful road of infertility. And in my heart of hearts I wish He'd have chosen another couple, because this journey sucks.

I'm tired of having my dreams crushed and having to mourn them, so learning to dream again is going to be a challenge.

Boxed In

I have been going back and forth between angry and weepy. Last week I had a bit of a breakthrough talking to Michael about it. I think I said before that its not so much wanting to know 'Why?' as much as 'What was the point?'.

I think deep down I know what the point of all this was, though its quite personal and I won't share it here. It did help me feel a bit better, if only just a bit.

I started feeling better and so I left the apartment for the first time in two weeks, of my own volition, to go work out. I had realized that I hadn't left the apartment unless someone was 'making' me. I made the excuse of staying home because we are moving into a new apartment and someone has to pack our junk stuff.

Well it felt weird leaving the security of my home, but it was time to get out. I was okay. I worked out, talked to my former co-workers, visited for a while and then headed to Star.bucks. The barista knows me, and so she cheerfully said, "Hi, I haven't seen you in ages, where have you been?" To which I said, "Yeah, its the first time I've been out in two weeks."

Crap, why did I have to open my mouth.

She asked me what happened and then I start to tell her about the adoption and how it fell apart and that is when I started crying right there in my favourite place. She was really sweet about it. She came around from behind the counter and stood next to me while I told her the shorten version of the story. She gave me a hug and my drink and scone were on the house. I started crying again when I realized she wouldn't take my card.

I was so embarrassed. I can't believe I cried...in public...and got a free drink and scone because I cried.

Really, I'm just so tired of grieving. I know its necessary that I do, especially in this instance, but honestly I'm so tired that I have to do it again. I just want to move on and put this behind me.

Anyway, to help me move on, I bought a gift box today to put all the things I had bought for the baby that we aren't going to be using anytime soon. Its nothing much, just some clothes, bibs, and a book. I put the folder from our Baby Care Basics class in there too as well as the ultrasound pic in the book (I couldn't throw it away, that seemed way too harsh).

Also, I got shipping labels to send back the car seat and pack n' play, which I would like to send back this weekend. My mom gets back from TN tomorrow and Monday she wants to do something so hopefully we can fit in going to B r Us to send back the stuff we both bought and then I get my closet back.

I almost didn't leave the house again today. I started crying at random things (well not so random, just the usual baby News Feed on FB).

The interesting thing is the anxiety hasn't returned, but since I'm having trouble leaving the apartment its possible it's already here and I'm just now realizing it.

ETA: All baby stuff has left the building. I got cash from the stuff I returned from B r Us and put it directly on my Star.bucks card (it felt fitting to go there.)

The Power of Sugar

I'm not an emotional eater, but I can understand where it can be a comfort and also a danger.

My mom calls me a pleasure eater, which means I eat when life is going good and I don't eat much when life is crap. I also have a nervous stomach - so add an unknown and potentially nerve-wraking situation like adoption and the ickiness of IF to the mix and well I haven't really been interested in food for quiet a while.

But I can understand certain aspects of emotional eating to a degree. I'm not going to be so bold as to say I understand it fully.

Yesterday, I went to Disneyland with a friend. God bless her, she tried so hard to cheer me up by taking me to the Happiest Place on Earth! All I really wanted was a Churro, that's all and go on a rollercoaster. I really didn't even matter which one, just as long as it was fast and made me scream. Well I got to go on Big Thunder and on my way back toward Main Street not one Churro stand was open from Frontierland to Main Street.

Seriously? This is Disneyland. They're expected to provide sugary treats at every corner. Its part of their appeal, isn't it? This is the reason (well one of the reasons) I wanted to go. But sadly no Churro for me.

The craving for sugar didn't go away once I got home. I just wanted something with cinnamon sugar. We don't have bread in the house, so I couldn't make cinnamon toast. However, we have torillas, so I made cinnamon sugar chips.

It took forever for the oven to preheat.  It felt like eternity for the chips to bake. The smell of cinnamon chips baking was awesome.

They were so good, but the moment was short lived. Nothing seemed to make me feel good, and the more sugar I ate, the more my stomach hurt.

I still felt so empty, so lost. and so angry.

And the more time that passed by, I started to feel worse about what I had done.

I can't do that again. I can't eat food to make myself feel better, that kind of thinking creates more problems than I'm willing to deal with. I have enough to be going on with, thank you very much.

I think I might have to go back to compulsively drinking coffee. Its a slightly safer option, don't you think. Well, not so much on the kidneys, but you get my point.

The Beginning: A Brief Outline

You are probably wondering how we got to the middle of our journey, so I will start from the beginning. By nature I'm a storyteller and I like detail. I can't just give a brief overview, but for the sake of keeping my reader's attention I will use "The Infertility Resume method.

March 2001
Michael and I get married. We decide that for the first two years I will be on birth control pills.

October 2002
Michael and I move to Oxford, England so he can get his D.Phil in Theology.

September 2003
I throw away my birth control pills and we are ready to make a baby. WOO HOO!!!

September 2004
Still not pregnant, charting shows cycles are all over the place. My GP (General Practitioner) orders some blood tests and refers me to an OB/GYN doc for an ultrasound (the referral takes up to 3 to 6 months - one of the reasons I HATE the National Health Care system).

March 2005
I have my appt with the OB/GYN doc and I'm diagnosed with "Mild Borderline Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome". Sounds made up, yes? We are offered to have a full fertility work up, however we would have to wait another 6 months to have it done.

July 2005
Michael finishes he's thesis and we move back to California. Both of us are looking for jobs and now have no health insurance. Three months later Michael gets a job and we have health insurance.

November 2006
My cycles are getting longer and longer, so I decide to go to the doctors. I get referred to Kaiser's Infertility Program by my Primary Care Physician.

May 2007
Our paperwork is in and we take the appropriate blood tests and Michael gives a Semen Analysis. Michael's SA comes back normal with great numbers. There are no issues with him. My blood work shows that I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I'm not ovulating on my own so the RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist) suggests a couple of cycles of Clomid.

October 2007
We start Clomid at 50 mg. I didn't think it would work the first time, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hopeful. After all, the only problem we are facing is an ovulation problem, so the Clomid is bound to work, right? Wrong.

November 2007
Clomid increased to 100mg, now getting uncomfortable hot flashes at night. But the discomfort will all be worth it if this cycle works. It doesn't work.

December 2007
Clomid increased to 150mg, now getting visual disturbances and insomnia along with the uncomfortable hot flashes. The discomfort does not pay off either in this cycle.

January 2008
Clomid increased to 200mg. We get our first positive OPK (Ovulation Predictor Kit) and seal the deal. Two weeks later at our RE appt we take a pregnancy test and its negative. We are sad, but because the visual disturbances got worse with the increase in Clomid dosage the RE suggest moving straight to injections. But first I have to have an HSG (hysterosalipingogram, say that 5 times fast) to check that my fallopian tubes are clear.

February 2008
I don't exactly start my period, but I have spotting. One morning at work I get this sharp pain in my lower abdomen. The pain feels like cramps, but no amount of medicine works to take the pain away. Later that evening my dad takes me to the ER as Michael is gone teaching a night class.

After waiting for nearly 12 hours in the waiting room we are finally admitted and learn that we are pregnant. The elation is short lived as none of the doctors know why I'm in pain. An ultrasound shows I have "fluid" in my uterus.

I am transferred to a Kaiser hospital where we are told that the "fluid" in my uterus is blood. I am then rushed for emergency surgery for either a suspected ruptured cyst or ruptured tube due to an ectopic pregnancy.

Its an ectopic pregnancy and my right tube is removed. Our chances of getting pregnant just got more complicated.

May 2008
I have my scheduled HSG and the test shows the remaining tube is clear. I'm told that the other tube must have had some kind of damage to cause the ectopic. We are cleared to continue treatment with injections and IUI (Intrauterine Insemination). Now all I have to do is learn how to give myself shots.

July 2008
I learn how to give myself shots and overcome my fear of needles.

August 2008
Our first injection cycle with IUI begins, but an ultrasound shows the right ovary (a.k.a the wrong ovary) is responding and the left ovary (a.k.a the correct ovary) is quiet, so the cycle is cancelled.

September and November 2008
We have our first and second IUI, but sadly both are not successful.

December 2008
We decide to take a break a much needed break from fertility treatments.

May 2009
We prepare for our third IUI and learn that we no longer have 100% coverage. It is now reduced to 50%, which means dipping into the savings. The IUI is not successful. Our RE offers us a 4th cycle since I have a history of responding well to the meds. We decide to do one more cycle, one last time.

July 2009
We prepare for our fourth and last IUI and it is by far the best cycle we've had since starting injections. The left ovary produces 3 follicles and the right ovary is completely quiet. Everything goes by smoothly.

August 2009
14 days post IUI (August 3) I take a pregnancy test and its negative. I have a blood test taken that same day and my HCG is at 5. I'm pregnant, but not pregnant enough for it to be a viable pregnancy. The next morning I wake up cramping and bleeding. Because the HCG number is so low, the RE calls it a chemical pregnancy and offers another cycle.

September 2009
We decide to stop further fertility treatments, and instead redirect our focus on other ways of building a family. However, before I can come to terms with our new "plan" I will need to work through some issues with the help of a counselor.

May 2010
We picked an Adoption agency and our application has been approved. We are now getting on to various tasks on our to-do list (clean out spare room, make LifeBook of us, scheduling Home Study).

August 2010
Our LifeBook is complete and turned into the agency. We have found an agency here to do our Homestudy and have begun the Homestudy process. Operation Clean Apartment has begun. Also we "graduate" out of Grief Counseling.

December 2010
Our Home Study is officially complete! We are now waiting to be matched with a birthmother.


August 2011
Surprising match with a birthmother through a mutual friend. Things look really promising as both birthparents are supportive of the match. Contact local agency to help with birthparent services and reliquishment. We are excited.


September 2011
Two weeks before the baby is due, birthfather changes his mind, birthmother doesn't feel confident about adoption anymore. Adoption is off. We are devastated.