Okay, here's the list. I decided to try pairing everyone off, as last time it gave everyone a chance to get to know their partner. Remember, all participants need to contact their partners within the next 24hrs. If you do not hear from your partner(s), please leave a comment here.
Leslie @ The Journey Through Life . . . and Teresa (Leslie, please leave a comment and I'll send you Teresa's contact info. Teresa, please visit Leslie's blog)
readyformymiracle @ Ready For My Miracle and marisa s (readformymiracle, please leave a comment and I'll send you Marisa's contact info. Marisa, please visit readyformymiracle's blog)
AG @ Zritel'nitsa and Court @ Our Pathway to Parenthood (AG, Court is currently in the hospital with severe OHSS. She has provided me with her contact info, so leave me a comment and I'll send it to you,)
So, about that reminder. Yeah. Been a bit distracted lately. But, we have a list of participants. Please check over it and let me know if I missed you or if you want to be taken off.
One final note: based on the comments, I'm thinking of renaming these as "ALI socks" instead of "Fertility socks." Thoughts?
Please let me know ASAP if there are any changes. Also, if for some reason your exchange partner is not responding, please, please, PLEASE contact me. Infertility/Loss is hard. Feeling left out of a sock exchange is just salt in the wound.
Saturday morning, I woke up early to help Grey stave off a headache. The stress and the grief from the news on Friday had brought on yet another potential migraine, so we both knew how important it was to tackle it early. Three cups of coffee and some tylenol later, we were sitting in bed talking about the events from the last 2.5 yrs. Together, we recapped everything that had happened, marveling at the journey so far.
I remember back before we decided to try for children imagining what it would be like to be childless. There was no better way to bring on the tears than to imagine everyone around me pregnant or cuddling their children while my arms were empty. Yet on Saturday, despite the fact that I was now living the thing I feared so deeply, I felt a sense of relief. Gone was the anxiety caused by this image of never being able to become pregnant. For the first time in almost 2 yrs, I felt peace.
The past few days, I feel myself waffling between moments of utter calm and moments of despair. On one hand, the jealousy I use to feel when seeing a pregnant women or couples with infants/small children is gone. On Sunday, I was able to watch a family play with their daughter while at a coffee shop, an activity that would have previously been a source of pain that was now something I could marvel at. At other moments, though, I find myself sobbing for what has been lost.
Something else has shifted, though. Something that I never expected. With the decision to halt treatments and the reflection on Saturday came the realization that both Grey and I have been playing it safe these past few years. We've stopped taking risks, be it in our careers, our home life and even in our extra curricular activities all in the hopes of building a family. Yes, stability is important for children. But too much stability leads to stagnation. Stagnation leads to rot, decay and regret. Stagnation leads to "what ifs" and lost dreams. Stagnation is a poison. And we were slowly dying because of this stagnation.
So on Saturday, we decided to start taking some risks again. For both Grey and I, our careers are our tickets to adventure. Grey is nearing the end of his postdoc and I am in a place of transition, where I could easily settle into a comfortable position. Instead, we decided to pursue our contacts in Boston with me hoping to line up a much desired postdoc. The position would not be easy, with me having to learn many new skills in a very short period of time, but the work is fascinating and it will open so many doors for the future. The interview is at the end of July.
In addition to the career, I made a decision that it's time to focus on becoming healthy. And I'm not just talking about being physically healthy. With the help of David and Dee, I've began delving into my childhood, reliving some of the more painful memories of abuse and neglect. For the first time, I started talking about what I actually had lived through, sharing my insights with them and Grey in the hope that we could work together towards finding a resolution and breaking the cycle. These first few sessions have already been challenging and there are moments where all I want to do is crawl back into my cave and pretend that all of this is a nightmare. Yet, I know I can't. I can't because I need to be healthy for the road ahead. I can't because my children deserve someone better. After everything I've lived through, I deserve a better me too.
And finally, we've begun preparing ourselves for the next leg of this journey. With our upcoming seminars comes a list of required readings about open adoption. I've ordered the books and we've downloaded the questionares. In addition, I've begun hunting for blogs and additional resources about adoption, hoping to glean knowledge about this process from those who have walked this road ahead of us.
On Monday, Grey and I celebrated our 8 yr wedding anniversary be staring at the crossroads. While most couples spend their anniversaries at a celebratory dinner, we spent the night making plans for the journey ahead and patching our wounds. At one point, Grey held my hand and looked deep into my eyes. "At least I have you," he said before he wrapped his arms around me. All I could think of was how lucky I was at the moment. And clinging to him, I promised him that we would always have one another.
I promised him that somehow, some way, it would be okay.
I've recently been getting lots of comments/questions about Fertility Socks. Again, the idea is not my own and those who are not familiar with them should read here and here. I will add one change to this exchange: it is open to anyone touched by infertility/loss. Though the original idea was to have something interesting to wear while in the stirrups (either as a conversation starter or to keep your feet warm in style) I've come to realize that we all could use a reminder that we are not alone, be it we are starting our journey, in the thick of it, or resolved and living with the memories.
Here are the rules:
1) Leave a comment below to let me know if your interested. This exchange is open to anyone who has been touched by IF/miscarriage/infant loss, be it you're currently in treatment, preparing for treatment, recently diagnosed, pregnant after IF, parenting after IF, pursing adoption, living child-free or even supporting someone dealing with IF.
2) Once you've received your recipient's names, please contact them within 24 hrs. Recipients, please response within 24 hrs too. This is incredibly important so that everyone has all the necessary information. For those who will be difficult to contact, please leave an additional comment with your contact information. I will not publish it, but it will help with making the connections.
3) Socks do NOT need to be handmade. Again, when I originally started doing this, I did it because I'm a crazy knitter who in addition to wanting to give something that was handmade also uses knitting as a form of therapy. Please do not feel that you need to learn to knit, crotchet or sew in order to participate. And there are some amazing sock stores out there.
4) If you can no longer participate in the exchange, please contact me immediately. Yes, life happens and unseen circumstances can require you to focus your energy elsewhere. (Trust me, I get it.) But please don't leave your recipient hanging. I'm more than happy to reassign, as long as I'm aware that you can no longer participate.
Deadline for participation is WednesdayJune 27th. I'll post a reminder as the deadline comes closer.
The past 36 hrs have been hard ones. The beta from today marked the end of a 2.5 yr journey towards pregnancy and biological children. There have been tears and anger. Despair and numbness. We both feel lied to, blaming ourselves and the world for this pain. Yet, in the end, both Grey and I know that this is the end. We've fought a good fight; it's time to let go.
The struggle for us now is grieving and saying goodbye to the children we wanted so desperately. These past few months, the image of them has slowly faded from my mind, but I never allowed myself to truly believe that they would not exist. Afterall, IVF is suppose to work; happy endings are suppose to happen following loss and struggle. Yet here we are at the crossroads, both of us knowing full well that we need to grieve this loss and bury them in order to move forward. That without doing this, our children will never find us.
How does one go about saying goodbye? Keiko Zoll posted about writing a letter to her biological child, while others have talked about doing something to mark the transition, be it with a memorial or some act. Right now my mind is clouded and healing needs to be the main focus, but I do want to do something for them. I'm just at a loss for what.
In 3 days, Grey and I will be celebrating our 8th wedding anniversary. It's bitter-sweet to think about us as a newly-married couple, full of hope for the future and sure of our family. How different we are now and uncertain. Yet how determined.
Tonight I'm holding the images of my sweet someday children tight, kissing them each goodbye. I know very soon that those images will be nothing more than a memory. A sweet dream that was never meant to be.
Thank you all for your sweet words and prayers. I've shown Grey all of your emails and comments, each of which have helped both of us feel less alone in the world during this time.
Welcome to those from ICLW. First time visitors can find information on our journey under the TTC timeline. And for those interested in Fertility Socks, yes I'm planning another exchange for the very near future. Stay tuned. Brief background on me: 2.5 yrs on the TTC wagon with a diagnosis of unexplained infertility in January 2011. 3 failed IUIs, one IVF, two FETs and 2 miscarriages. I'm currently in the tail-end of our final FET prior to moving on to adoption.
First off, we're back from our mini-vacation!! I've been drafting a post and will update you all very soon about our adventure (and for those who are wondering, yes there are photos of orcas). Thanks to everyone for the virtual swift kick in the bum to book the trip. It was very much needed.
Today, Grey and I had our first appointment with the marriage counselor. This past week, both of Grey and I have been reflecting on everything that has happened during the last couple of years. Infertility and the miscarriages, though a big part, hasn't been the only stressor. There's been work stress, home stress and stress caused by family. On certain days, I really wonder if I've been blowing all of this out of proportion, creating my own drama. That maybe I just needed suck it up and all would be okay.
Within the first few minutes of meeting David, both Grey and I were reassured that we were not drama queens. That indeed, we were dealing with a lot of external stress. That miscarriage isn't something one just "gets over." In short, he gave us hope by reassuring us that what we were feeling was completely normal considering the circumstances and he believes that we already have the foundation to emerge from this stronger, not only as individuals but as a couple. Our work is just beginning, but both Grey and I walked out of David's office feeling lighter and hopeful. We haven't fucked up our marriage beyond repair.
Some of David's observations made me reflect on loss. Not just whether something qualifies as a loss, but also how we as society respond to loss. Many people in my day-to-day life look at me in horror when Grey or I tell them everything we've been through. Mo recently wrote a very raw post talking about the train-wreak everyone wants to pity and how debasing pity is. I can relate a lot to what she wrote, as my losses are not simply restricted to my inability to conceive/ stay pregnant. I lost my entire family last year, with my mother making it very clear how worthless I am to her. I lost the safety of a home, being surrounded by neighbors with questionable character. I somehow managed to graduate only to be put into a holding pattern about my career due the economy and fertility treatments. And then I lost my embies due to not one, but two miscarriages. And, even now, I grief for my babies that I will never hold.
The problem with living as the train-wreak is two-fold: first is the pity. I'm completely with Mo on this one; I would much rather people actively hate me than pity me. Being the center of a pity party is such a debasing thing for anyone, but the added pain comes when people use you as a barometer for their own lives. It's the opposite of the pain olympics knowing that people are using you to lift their spirits.
There's another level, though. People usually fail to see the beauty outside of the train-wreak. In May, I learned of another blogger, CGD. Over the past couple of months, I've followed her journey as she is navigating a divorce on top of infertility and an uncertain future. Her journey is a hard one, but the thing that continually shines through is her grace and strength. When I read her posts, I don't walk away thinking "wow, I'm so lucky," I walk away thinking "Cristy, you can do better."
Today as I was commuting to work, I muled over the thought that maybe, just maybe, something good could come out of all of this. I've talked before about the creation of villians, wondering if all of this would break me leaving behind a haggard witch. And then I was broken, shattered into a million pieces. But, in place of the villain, I find that I'm slowly emerging just like the mythical Phoenix from the ashes. Somehow, I'm finding strength daily to move forward and a lot of that has come from finding others who understand, who write openly and honestly about their journeys. Not because I can feel better about myself, but because I learn from them that I can do this; I can do better.
On Friday I meet with Dee. We will continue to tackle my demons, but following the events from this past week, with new purpose. At 33 yrs of age, I have experienced more loss than I wish on any human being, yet I'm still standing. Still, this is not enough. I need to find joy again in life, despite the fear and the pain. If not for myself, then for Grey and our children, both the ones we lost and the ones we will find.
This week, Dandelion Breeze is hosting a Bloghop with the theme of "HopE, suPport & wiShes." Our posts are suppose to discuss something that has helped us along our IF/loss journey.
I don't have any sage words for how to get through IF and/or loss. Frankly, I'm still trying to figure that out myself. But what I do know is that if I'm going to keep hope alive during this journey, then I need to seek out reminders.
My current one involves visiting a local Buddhist temple to spin the prayer wheels.
According to the plack on this shrine, each wheel contains 1000 prayers for peace and love. Spinning the wheels releases the prayers.
I'm not a practicing Buddhist, though I one day hope to study and learn more as I think this is a beautiful religion. But, with each IVF cycle, it's become a tradition to walk down to the temple and spin all 44 wheels. In the past it was for our embies.
This cycle though, as I walked around the shrine spinning the wheels, I also thought of this community: all those in treatment and those who are waiting for the next round. For those that had BFNs and those with BFPs who were hoping for healthy pregnancies. For those who those that had experienced loss, be if their first or their nth. Those those waiting for news on DE or surrogacy and those in the adoption process. For all those still on this journey to expand their family. All this done in the hope of finding hope and even bargaining with it for an end to this madness.
Transfer day. A day that everyone going through IVF/FET waits for with baited breath. Since my last miscarriage, I haven't really allowed myself to think about this day. Partly because I've been grieving the loss of my last pregnancy. Partly because I've been scared to think there could be a different outcome. Over the weekend, both Grey and I have struggled with finding hope for the cycle; seeing a positive outcome. Grey especially has had a hard time, since a co-worker recently gave birth and now his workspace is filled with images of her and her new daughter. Happy for the co-worker, but in pain from the reminder of what we've lost.
On Sunday, a phone conversation with MissConception and reading Dandelion Breeze's recent post, snapped me back to reality. On a side-note, if you haven't already, go send these women some love. The news of Dandelion Breeze's most recent IVF/PGD cycle not working is heartbreaking. MissConception is still working through grief from the loss of M&A while trying to embrace her little Raspberry. Both of these women are amazing and inspiring individuals, but they could use the extra TLC right now.
What I was reminded of (directly from MissConception, too) was that despite the grief of loss, there can be hope. Dandelion Breeze's suggestion of finding non-traditional therapies reminded me that despite the fact that nothing is really changing during this FET on the medical end, there have been lots of chances for this cycle. I started seeing Dee regularly to work through my grief. Grey and I started putting together our adoption plan. I started acupuncture (which I love!!!). This cycle is during summer break, meaning I'm a bit more relaxed. And Grey and I are on the same page. Even though we are both struggling, we are struggling together.
The end result of all of this was the realization that I needed to lower my guard and openly admit some things. I can't be continually steeling myself for the worst, as it will negate any possible good from coming from all of this. So Monday evening, I set out to prepare for this FET.
I started by sitting down and making a list of things I hope for. This may sound silly, but I've spent a lot of time focusing on what I fear. Fear of a BFN or another miscarriage. Fear of never being able to carry a child to term. Not once since April have I allowed myself to be hopeful for this cycle.
The truth is, I want this cycle to work. As much as we've been preparing for adoption (a route we now know we will be taking no matter what), I want to carry Grey's child. I want my embryos to survive the thaw and to become pregnant, but I want more than a BFP. I want to see a heartbeat, to watch my belly grow, to have my husband hold this body while it is carrying his child and ultimately to see a baby with Grey's eyes and my nose.
In addition, I started doing things to help my body prepare. I quit caffeine when I started the Crinone (for some strange reason, progesterone makes being caffeine-free easier for me), I started the Circle+Bloom program again, I've been loading up on water to counter the effects of the Doxycyclin and I bought a pineapple. Actually, I bought two. Grey used the first one to make Pineapple stir-fry. I have no idea if pineapple actually helps with implantation, but pineapple is in season so it can't hurt.
I've also been trying to distract myself. Reading has helped with this and I need to pick up my knitting today. The night before the FET, I made pies. Probably not the best activity at 10 pm the night before FET, but I needed a distraction.
Strawberry Rhubarb with a buttermilk pie crust
And finally, I packed Polaris. I no longer care what people think about me carrying this bear.
My security blanket
Tuesday was a packed day. My first acupuncture appointment was at 9 am, so Grey and I were up early to make sure I had everything that I would need for the day. Following the appointment, which helped relax me like never before, we stopped by a local French bakery to pick up some tarts for the clinic staff. After working with all of them for so long, I figured we were long overdue for a thank you gift.
And then it was time to go downstairs to prep for the transfer.
Socks from Tami-Scrabble at Submerged. Everyone got a kick out of them
Finally, the embryologist was ready with her report. And to my astonishment, we learned that our two 3AB embryos had survived the thaw and one had been upgraded! So we were transferring a 4AA and 3BB. *No photos this time. The University decided the clinic does not need a camera to photograph embryos.
The rest of the day was spent promoting implantation. Following the second acupuncture appointment which was immediately after the transfer (and which I managed to sleep through), I spent the rest of the day on the couch trying to out-sleep my nurses.
Movement is not an option
Today I'm home again, taking it easy. Despite everything else I *should* be doing, MissConception words of wisdom of "being a Mommy to these snowbabies" has been foremost on my mind. And with the news that they managed to survive despite the odds, I'm taking it as a sign that I need to do my part and give them every possible chance.
Somehow, someway, I'm finding hope again. Despite the fact that we've been here before, I'm praying for a different outcome.
In the spring of 2003, I answered an ad to rent a room in a house with a group of women. I remember the interview with each of the roommates, with my kitties in tow to determine if there was a fit. To this day, I still believe the only reason I got the room was because of my cats. My year in the Mint house was life-changing: not only did I meet Grey, but my time living with musicians, dancers and women who were artistically focused gave me a new outlook on life. It was during my year living in the Mint house that I met Jen Wood.
I'm not going to talk about Jen as a person. Her story is her own and I feel that people need to met her, spend time with her in order to learn what an amazing individual she is. What I will talk about, though, is her music. From those first chords, it's always touched a special place in my heart. Though described by some as melancholy and bare, her music does cause people to pause and contemplate. I witnessed first hand as the room has gone quiet when she plays, the audience swaying to and fore to her haunting melodies. During my year in the Mint house, my room was located directly above her's. Being a musician, it wasn't uncommon to hear her practicing and working through new pieces in the middle of the night. I can't tell you how much I miss hearing her music fill my room and the living room, singing me to sleep. Some of my most vivid dreams have been to some of her songs and I suspect her music had a similar effect on my furbabies. Even today, when I play some of her songs, I see a peace come across Jaxson's face, as he use to sneak down to her room as a kitten, simply to be in her space.
A couple of years ago, on a day trip together, Jen brought her recent demo for an album she and the Trio had been working on. Many of the songs were in their raw format, but were beautiful none the less. The one that stuck with me, though, was "Pills." The intro rang true and always makes me laugh. But the lyrics from the rest of the song, though beautiful, were not completely clear to me. Because at that moment, I was happy in life. And I couldn't understand being in a place where one would be so lost. Until now.
Yesterday, I was able to locate the video for "Pills." Reading the lyrics again made me realize how timely this song is, particularly the promise of "You won't be there forever."
Pills by Jen Wood
Today I threw away my pills
against my family doctor's will. They said they would make me smile but instead I feel nothing, nothing at all.
I see that look on your face wondering if I'm okay. Mother need not to fear. I promise to stay near.
You won't be there forever. You won't be there forever You won't be there forever
I can learn to trust. I can learn to scream. I can learn to say yes if that's what you need from me.
You can learn to trust. You can learn to scream. I can learn to say yes if that's what you need from me.
You won't be there forever. You won't be there forever You won't be there forever You won't be there forever
Many years ago, I was a moderately active rock climber. Here in the Pacific Northwest, we are lucky to have a number of areas within driving distance, so the summers were spent traveling to the various climbing areas, camping and scaling as many of the routes as we could in a day. Though there were aspects of the sport I still don't like (the gorilla nature of many of the younger guys and the lackadaisical attitude from many of the new climbers about learning proper technique; both of which lead to witnessing many incidents that would classify as Darwin Awards), there were parts I loved: the community, the need for communication and teamwork and the importance of patience.
The thing is with rock climbing, if you stay with it long enough, at some point you will end up being hurt if not killed. A twist of an ankle can result in not only a strained ankle but also potentially a fall. And one injury or very close-call can end it all, which it did for me. Following my accident in 2009, I've put away my climbing shoes. Initially it made sense: Grey and I were starting our journey to expand our family. Considering there is no known history of infertility in my family, we naively assumed that this would be the easy part, hence rock climbing no longer fit into the equation. But as time has gone on and now, 2.5 yrs later with multiple BFNs, three failed medicated IUIs, IVF, FET and 2 miscarriages, I'm beginning to regret the decision to give up an activity that I loved all in pursuit of a baby.
Some of you may suggest getting back on the rock, but that's not the point of this post. What I want to focus on instead is the correlation I can draw between rock climbing and our IF journey. Especially considering the events of this past week.
Ladies and gentlemen, Grey and I have not been doing well. The emotional rollercoaster is in full swing here and both Grey and I have been riding it. This past Tuesday, Grey and I went back to our clinic for our baseline for FET #2. I've talked before how much I love my clinic, as the staff and REs are absolutely amazing. And the appointment went smoothly: both ovaries are quiet, lining measures at 10.1 mm and E2 levels at 396. Still, the second I walked into the waiting area, I knew I did not want to be there. That as much as I have grown to know and love each of the providers there, this place has become one associated with so much pain. And so I did what any grief-striken person would do: I sobbed like a baby. I cried for all the failure, cried so my lost children, cried for having to do this all over again. And I cried because I fear losing the dream of pregnancy and biological children. And when I looked up, I found Grey crying too.
Despite the good news from the appointment, the arrival of the new flooring (which has completely transformed our condo from a low-end rental to a place that civilized humans would actually want to live in) and the optimism from all those around us, both Grey and I are afraid of what is to come. Tuesday has a number of hurdles all it's own as our embryos need to survive the thaw and determining how many will be fit for transfer. Then there's the 2ww, ending with three different outcomes: BFN, BFP or miscarriage. And though I now know it's possible to become pregnant, I also have never gotten past the 5 week mark nor seen a heartbeat.
In a strange way, our attempt at fertility treatments has become a climbing problem. In the climbing world, there are routes where the most difficult portion of the climb or "crux" exists not at the top of the route, but at the beginning. Initially, we were having problems becoming pregnant, so it was assumed that this was our crux. Then there were the miscarriages, with us running into an unexpected crux. And with those loses came the sudden drop back into pain and despair, feeling the full weight from the impact of hitting the ground. The frustrating part of this is that there is no one that has an explanation for how to get past this point. And so we sit at the bottom of the problem, tending our wounds while trying to map out the moves that need to be done to get through.
There's a lot hanging on this FET. Failure will not instantly kill us, as many are quick to point out, but it will cause more harm than many are willing to admit. Though Grey and I are communicating, both of us are grieving, which is evident in our mannerisms and our isolating ourselves from others. Even blogging has become difficult and I've found I'm distancing myself more and more from the community, which I have no explanation of other than I feel defeated. There's also the reminder that even if all of this works out, we are both forever changed. Finding our children, be it through pregnancy or adoption, will no longer revert us back to the state we were in 2.5 yrs ago; something family and friends naive to this process are hoping for. Instead, we are hardened to the world and problems of those who easily obtain what we've broken ourselves over. And it scares both of us.
But not moving forward isn't an option. To put all of this on hold in hopes of "getting to a better place" is simply putting off the inevitable, increasing our fears of the outcome. To not move forward means more madness, increased fear and ultimately regret. In the end, we are picking the lesser of two evils, running full speed into a vortex vs. freezing to death in this IF induced winter. At least with the vortex, there is the hope of coming out on the other side. So, we try again, the entire time being aware that we once again may have to brace for impact.
Tuesday is coming. And with it the knowledge that once again we will begin a journey in a very similar fashion with the hopes of a different outcome. Each hold has become second nature and the first bolt is in sight. Now, it's just a matter of reaching it and locating the second one.
It's amazing what can happen in a week. So much movement and yet so little. My mind has been a whirl with all of these events and both Grey and I have been processing a lot.
- Our meeting with Dee was a chaotic one. Initially our intentions of getting some information about moving forward with the adoption process revealed that we are both struggling with being at the crossroads. Dee ordered us to find a marriage counselor to help deal with this. After a couple of fasle-starts, we have some leads and I hope we can proceed very soon.
- Speaking of adoption, we found an agency! Luck would have it that we managed to secure the last available spot for a pre-adoption seminar in August (next seminar would have been November). We currently have a stack of paper work we need to begin working our way through. At least our evenings will be filled.
- You're probably wondering where this leaves us with this upcoming cycle. Grey and I are on track, with our baseline ultrasound coming up on Tuesday. The emotions surrounding Tuesday are mixed for both of us: Grey is feeling very hopeful; I feel numb. At least the despair that was exacerbated by the BCPs is gone, but I don't feel any hope either. In a lot of ways, I feel like I'm just going through the motions, expecting nothing along the way. It a strange place to be.
- Despite feeling numb, I have been taking additional steps to help promote a good outcome. I found an acupuncturist at the beginning of May and have been ending my weeks laying on a table, meditating while having needles stuck in various portions of my body. It's become something I look forward to and I have noticed an improvement in my mood following the sessions. That and I love the acupuncturist. No matter the outcome of all of this, I may have to continue seeing her.
- I've been having dreams about green nail polish. Strange, I know. I think it's time to get my toes painted.
- Grades are submitted and I'm officially focusing on mentoring research students. And I'm wishing a had a quater of their energy. Mine has been terribly low and I have no explanation for why.
- I've begun hunting for postdocs in two different cities. I don't want to reveal too much at this point, but I have a very strong lead in one city while the other has resulted in nothing. Grey and I are flying out for a wedding in July located in the city with the strong lead, so I'm planning on mixing business with family and interviewing the lab then. In the meantime, I need to start working on applications for grants and reading over the papers from this lab. It's been terribly exciting to know that this may all come to fruition.
- On the home front, Grey and I bite the bullet and are replacing our carpets next week. I'll write more about our condo in the Pigeon Palace soon, but the carpets are a project that needed to be done 6 years ago when we first moved in. The idea that we are ridding ourselves of a major source of stress and smell has both Grey and I feeling lighter. We're also making plans to reface the kitchen cabinets (6-9 months). If all goes well, we'll final have the home we always wanted. Just in time to move.
- Grey and I have turned a corner. Grey allowing himself to grieve for this last miscarriage has opened the doors of communication. He's talked openly about how scared he is for the next cycle, about how much it hurts to be on this road. He's also talked about how confused he has been as we've been taking steps to begin the adoption process. We've been having multiple discussions clarifying our intentions and laying out a plan. He's feeling a lot better and more hopeful for the future because of this.
- We booked a cabin for a mini-vacation. We're leaving the weekend after the transfer and plan on doing nothing but sleeping, relaxing and exploring. My hope is the sea air will do us both some good. That and I'm hoping for a chance to see my first Orca pod. After 10 yrs in the Pacific Northwest, I've never seen them. And yet I dream of them. Strange, huh?
After many blissful years of marriage, my husband Grey and I decided to toss the birth control and take the plunge into parenthood. What we've encountered instead is a diagnosis of unexplained infertility and an inability to stay pregnant. Now, after two losses, a failed FET, a diagnosis of APA syndrome and an early delivery & NICU experience, we are finally parenting our miracle twins. This is our story.
