24 weeks: viability, confronting fear and healing

*WARNING* this post starts out talking about pregnancy progress. If you are not in a good place, PLEASE skip this post. As always, there will be others. Take care of yourself first. In the meantime, here's a photo of two happy kitties who are more than happy to welcome you in to their cuddle circle and smoother you in love.

Today I am 24 weeks pregnant. A milestone I never imagined I would see. Due to a scheduling conflict, my bi-monthly appointments are on odd weeks. Hence no ultrasound this week. That said, the news from last week is everything looks great: Beats are on track and I've been told I should be a cervix model (which made both Grey and I pause and look not so fondly at the Dildo cam) as my cervix is holding steady at 3.8 cm. To prove the point, He-Beat decided to use my cervix as a hammock. Grey was quick to point out that he was accomplishing two goals at once: taking it easy while stressing me out. Little bugger.

These past fours weeks have been ones filled with lots of distraction. With the end of the semester has come stressed out students, final projects/papers and final exams, all of which has kept me very busy. But there's also been another element for why I've been neglecting this space. The truth is, after being a part of this community for so long, I'm acutely aware of what can go wrong. Particularly during the 18-22 week mark. Add in the fact that I've been experiencing a lot of abdominal tightening, particularly in the evenings or following moments I've over-extended myself, and it's been hard not to worry. The problem is, I felt like I couldn't talk about these fears here. The few times I've been brave enough to mention this to a couple ALIers, I've been quickly silenced with an "everything is fine, stop worrying" explanation. I understand where this advice is coming from, as these ladies have been through their fair share of heartache and really were trying to ease any anxiety. Still, it felt minimizing and shaming and I worried that opening up here about it would lead to an avalanche of the same if not berating comments about how I needed to get over myself and embrace this pregnancy. So instead, I've been working with David and Dee to get through this period. Granted, there have been moments that have been less than pretty, but using a lot of the tools I've learned over the last year to reprocess negative thoughts and to address anxieties, I've found that I've managed to keep the panic down to a dull roar.

In addition to all of this, Grey and I have begun tackling some festering wounds. I've spoken before about my frustrations and anger over family regarding how they've handle our journey, particularly my anger with Grey's younger brother Lucas. What I haven't talked about much is the discussions Grey and I have had about resolution. Last year when we talked about this, it became very apparent that we needed to come to a temporary understanding of how to handle all of this as it was becoming far too difficult to bear. Hence the agreement was minimizing discussion about Lucas in our daily conversations while not putting limits on Grey's relationship with him. For the time, despite it being far from ideal, it allowed us the peace we needed to address the havoc infertility, failed treatments and repeated miscarriage had played on our relationship as well as us individually. But since then, as we've healed and addressed a number of other more pressing issues, this one has made its way to the top of the list.

The thing is, I've been guilty about stalling on readdressing this issue. Mainly because I don't see a good outcome to talking this through. A big part of this has to do with my childhood, where I was strongly encouraged to stuff any negative emotions or hurts simply because my feelings weren't considered important or because to address them would cause hurt feelings in others. Hence I'm use to running away or being severely punished for voicing my hurts.

Because of this, I've developed a survival mechanism over the years of triaging what relationships are worth salvaging following moments of massive impasse. In most cases, the approach on my end has been to take a step back, assess the situation and the person and then to come back to the table to talk things over, the whole time with me being a nervous wreak. But there have been instances where someone has been so dismissive of my feelings or come across as so self-centered that it's become far easier for me to simply cut them out of my life. I don't like doing this, but in these instances it has been a far better and saner option.

The problem with this approach regarding Lucas, though, is that Grey has a strong relationship with his brother. Hence spending family events where I am clearly avoiding him and his wife are not a long-term solution, especially with the Beats on the way.

Two weeks ago, Grey and I decided it was time to tackle this with David's guidance. The first step being me drafting a letter to Lucas detailing all the anger and hurt I had been dealing with. Writing the letter was hard, leaving me emotionally drained and curled up in a small ball from all the crying. But what it did was provide a first step for our discussion about what the initial goals were with opening the lines of communication as well as allowed Grey and I to get on the same page for what the outcome of all of this could be.

I'll be honest, despite Grey and David being hopeful about these first steps, I still am not. But then again this is no longer about me and me alone. And upon reflection of our meeting last night, part of me wonders how different my childhood would have been if half of the things we talked about had been exercised more in my family instead of issuing "don't judge" and "get over it" when hurt feelings were voiced or even defaulting to irrational rage when conflicts arose. Hence, despite my pessimistic tendencies, we're pushing forward with another meeting with David scheduled very soon to drill down a but more and hopefully come up with some sort of script that can be used for a conversation.

Surviving Mother's Day

First off, thanks for all the comments about my last post. I've read each one and reflected on all your advice. Amazingly enough, all of you reaffirmed the plan Grey and I have in place for any future contact. As much as it hurts to know that I need to go this route, I'm firm in my resolve to stop the cycle of madness that has been plaguing my family for generations. The particulars still need to be worked out on how, but one thing I'm learning is that time will help for clearing the path. One quick thing I do want to clarify is some disbelief about Dee's advice to send a birth announcement. I don't think she's suggesting this to the benefit of my family, but more so that we have control over what information is sent to them and to provide instructions on how to proceed. Still, it's not the route that will benefit our situation. Anyway, thank you everyone for your love and support.

Obviously, the recent discussions about family dysfunction have me reflecting more and more about this upcoming Sunday. In addition, finding myself in my current physical state has resulted in almost daily reminders about how I should be preparing for Mother's Day, including emails from advertisers about Mother's Day apparel, activities, jewelry and of course flowers. The result of seeing my inbox flooded with all of this has stirred up a lot of familiar unpleasant emotions and the desire to hide from it all.

Like many contemporary holidays, I've never been much of a fan of Mother's or Father's Day. It wasn't that I didn't love my parents nor that I didn't want to celebrate what they had given to me (despite the abuse, there were many things they did that allowed me to become the person I am today) nor the fact that I believe parents shouldn't be celebrated. But holidays like this tend to be focal points not only for materialism but they also tend to focus on the misconception that only those who give birth are parents.

Recently I came upon this wonderful post Em @ Teach me to Braid who really got at the heart of my discomfort. Em's point, which I think is a dynamite one, is that holidays like Mother's Day have become forums of exclusion for so many, from those living with infertility/loss, to those who have lost grown children and even those estranged from their families. What Em's post made me remember is that we have too narrow of a definition of "parent" in our society. That it's assumed that unless you fit into a very narrow model os family, you are automatically excluded from celebrating and being celebrated.

On top of all of this, I've also unfortunately witnessed many examples where people use these holidays as means of forcing others to pay attention to them. While I was an undergrad, I watched many young women go into full pout mode in the days leading up to Valentine's Day, insisting on material displays of affection from their significant others and then comparing memorized lists of acquired presents as a tool for measuring how much they were loved. I see an equally similar trend from people who I consider lackluster parents who insist on perfection for their day of honor, starting with breakfast in bed, to acquiring pre-specified gifts and even prescribed activities in order to fulfill their need of being the center of attention. Needless to say, it's a bit hard to stomach, making me question who and how we celebrate.

So, this year, seeing as how the rest of the world has decided that I somehow fit just enough into their definition as a candidate who can participate in this holiday, I've decided I'm spending Mother's Day celebrating the women of this community. From those of you who are newly diagnosed to those who have walked the infertility/loss road for far too long, to those who have resolved through adoption, successful treatment(s) or have resolved to live as a family of two, I will honor you. I will honor how you have fought for your families. I will honor how you've made difficult decisions about expanding your family. I will honor your courage for enduring side effects from treatment, surgery, painful shots and hormonally induced mood-swings. I will honor how you've supported and defended each other. I will honor how you have confronted fear and grief. I will honor how you have advocated for change and recognition from our society. I will honor each and every one of you.

Because in my eyes, you are all mothers. Whether you are holding your children or holding them in your hearts. Anyone who walks the path of infertility/loss has earned the title of "parent."

Finally, I'm reposting my attempt at a survival guide. Please feel free to add to this, modify it or use it as a template for creating your own version. As I still haven't found any survival guides that I really think are stellar, I would love to see what each person here comes up with.

Mother's Day Survival Guide:
Let it out. I'm going to start here, since most survival guides list this one dead last. Look, infertility/loss is hard. Very hard. So instead of suppressing the anger, sadness, frustration, worry, etc., do the one thing that so many well-meaning people will tell you not to do: just let it out. Give yourself a good 30-40 minutes to get the pain caused by this disease out of your system. Shed those tears, voice your worries, curse the universe. Write, exercise, scream. You get the idea. Because once you get it out, you'll feel better. You'll no longer have to worry about being sad the rest of the day because you've given yourself some time.

Acknowledge what you have accomplished. Living with infertility and loss is not for the weak. Anyone who's been on this path for any length of time has changed and will continue to be changed. Most of the time, this has only been for the better. You may have learned how to stand up for yourself, advocating your needs. Your marriage/relationship with your spouse, significant other, family and friends may have strengthened and deepened in ways you didn't know possible. You may have overcome your fear of needles. Whatever it may be, celebrate it. Take a moment or two to give yourself the acknowledgement you and your loved ones deserved for battling this disease. You've earned it.

Get out of the house. This one I can't stress enough. As tempting as it will be to spend the day in your pajamas watching bad TV, plan instead to spend the day doing some sort of activity. If seeing families is a trigger, plan a non-family friendly event. If being with family is a comfort, plan on spending some time. What ever it may be, get out of the house!

Celebrate the "mother" in your life. For those of you who have been reading this blog long enough, you'll know that my biological mother and I are not on friendly terms. That said, I do believe that Mother's Day is a time to celebrate those who have been "mothers" to you in some way. I also believe that one does not earn the title of "mother" simply by being able to birth a human being. There have been many amazing women in my life who have helped me become the person I am today. And I'm sure I'm not alone on this. So spend the day thanking your "mothers", be it spending time with them, shooting off a short email, or simply doing something that they taught you.

Distractions, distractions, distractions. I once read that an emotion lasts for about 10 minutes. The reason why people experience any emotion for longer periods is because they are "refiring" that emotion, be it with mental images or play inner dialogue. So like getting out of the house, find some way to distract yourself. Again, it's okay to be sad, frustrated, etc. But give yourself a break from all the madness too.

Treat yourself.  When all is said and done, Mother's Day is like any other holiday: sometimes just getting through is an accomplishment. So, at the end of the day, do something special. Take a bath, schedule a little "me" time, hog the covers. You get the picture. Reward yourself for making it through this day.

To all of you wonderful warrior women; those who dared to take this long journey toward motherhood: those dreaming of their children, those celebrating the news of a BFP, those awaiting results from treatment/a recent cycle, those making their way through the scares and doubts of pregnancy after IF/RPL. those mourning a loss/losses or news of a BFN and those holding their children, either in their arms or in their hearts. May there be a moment in your reflections/celebrations this weekend of peace. And may you all be wrapped in love.

To tell or not to tell . . .

Last week was one of mixed emotions. Grey and I are still over the moon from all the good news we received about the Beats, which has allowed us to start taking cautious steps towards preparing for their arrival. A strange thing to think about, but also something we're finding those around us in real life are embracing. But with all this good news has come the question those closest to us ask in a quieter and concerned tone: "Have you told your parents?"

Quick recap on my history for those of you who haven't been following from the beginning: I haven't spoken to my family in almost 2 yrs. My childhood was one that I don't consider overly unusual, but it's clear my mother is both emotionally and physically abusive and my father is an enabler. The "straw" that resulted in this lack of contact was when my mother pushed for Grey and me to adopted my second cousin after he had been removed from his mother's care due to repeated incidents of neglect and violence. When it became clear that they were willing to sacrifice me in order to support the family dysfunction, I knew it was time to remove myself from the madness.

Fast forward to present day. To my knowledge, my family knows nothing about that's happened over the past couple of years. No clue we underwent IVF, no idea about our losses and  certainly no understanding of all the heartache and the grief we've lived through. And they don't know about the Beats.

And I naively believed that as long as I didn't say anything, they never would.

Last week before the anatomy scan, Grey and I had our meetings with both David and Dee where this issue came up. The second I told them that I had no intention to inform my family about the Beats, but David and Dee gave me a look that said "um, but they're still going to find out." Probing this further resulted in a very panicky Cristy, as this wasn't something I had considered. After all, in my mind I had zero idea how they would find out. Outside of an uncle that lives in the area, who know all about the fallout, we've told no one about our news. But the further Dee and David pushed this point, the clearer it became that it really was a matter of time. That somehow there would either be a slip or, due to the internet, some hint that would lead to them discovering the Beats.

And that knowledge frightens me to my very core.

Here's the worst case scenario: come late summer or fall, my family learns about these two. Cue my parents and anyone else who's feeling righteous hopping a plane and arriving on my front stoop. Suddenly, instead of focusing on getting these two here safely and in healthy of a state as possible, Grey and I are thrusted back into the dysfunction, fighting off the insanity from those who decided long ago that infertility was a just punishment for me and Grey for not playing the game. Trust me, I've been down that rabbit hole one too many times and the only situation where it gets any beter is when I've given in and allowed myself to be the whipping boy.

The past week I've been trying to figure out what to do to prepare for when my family finds out. Initially Dee suggested that I simply send them a birth announcement, similar to when my sister sent her wedding invitation. But the problem with this approach is that it opens the lines of communication. And I'm not ready to deal with the madness that is involved with going down that rabbit hole. To do so means I have to sacrifice my family, these two wonderful beings who deserve so much more. So that leaves only a second alternative, which is to prepare for the storm. To fortify the ourselves for the backlash that is sure to come when they learn about this.

Still, I'm unclear exactly how to do this. How to manage it all. As I told Dee, I was so happy with my orignal idea; this new knowledge hasn't been sitting well at all.

Anyone with any thoughts or advice, please leave a comment. I could use it.

20 weeks: Gender reveal and preventing preterm birth

Once again, here's your friendly pregnancy post warning. I'm seriously considering stealing Belle's idea of post images of Jaxson and Daisy as warnings for these posts so that 1) people who would prefer to skip these can know to bypass and 2) to spread the kitty love. Anyway, please, please, PLEASE skip this post if you are not in a good place right now. There will be others to come very soon about my recent therapy sessions, which I'm sure you'll find all the more entertaining. Take care of yourself first.

Today Grey and I woke early and made our way to the university for our 20 week ultrasound. I've been very nervous for this ultrasound for a number of reasons, the first being we would determine whether our luck was holding and if both babies were healthy. Both Grey and I have witnessed how birth defects or genetic abnormalities can alter an expectant parent's existence. And though I've met some amazing people with equally amazing children who lead full, beautiful lives, the initial devastation of these diagnoses is not lost on either of us.

The long and the short of it is that both Beats are not only cleared for any birth defect that would have been detectable, but they also had zero soft markers. I'm still floored by this news, as I truly was expected at least one or two (which is common even in healthy babies).

The ultrasound tech was amazing, sweet talking each Beat to get all the necessary images she needed. Somehow she managed to convince a very stubborn Beat A to flip over in order to get a better view of the beating heart. Grey quickly declared her the baby whisperer.

Then came the icing on the cake: Beat A is a He-Beat; Beat B is a She-Beat. After 3 yrs of infertility/loss, we could really have cared less. Still, the news brought tears to both our eyes.

After all the measurements were taken, the ultrasound tech checked my cervix. As of today, it is 4.2 cm long and not budging under pressure. The MFM physician overseeing the ultrasound was clearly pleased with all of this, declaring everything "beautiful."

After the ultrasound, Grey and I wandered down to a part of campus we both were familiar with to grab some breakfast and process/spread the news. For the first time in a very long time, it was evident both of us were relaxed, just living in the moment and all that is to come. We haven't had a breakfast like this in years and it was nice to just be with one another, not worrying about all the other details in life.

After breakfast, it was back to the MFM clinic for an appointment with our care providers and to talk some more about genetic testing. At this point, they don't recommend a quad screen for us, but emphasized that we should think all of this over. At this point, we're both leaning against doing this screen as there is some uncertainty of the results with twins and we're fairly comfortable with the results we have so far. Still, it's something we need to explore.

After that and getting some additional information, our perinatologist poked her head back into the exam room when I had finished dressing and asked if we were interested in participating in a study that would help prevent preterm birth and stillborn.

Side note: For those of you who haven't already, please go support MissC as she prepares to walk for March of Dimes. I don't need to make much of a case for why supporting this organization is important, but one thing I will say is that in addition to a need for funding for this research, access to patient samples is greatly limited.

As soon as I was dressed, the study coordinator who works for the Global Alliance to Prevent Prematurity and Stillbirth came in to talk with Grey and me. The goal of the study is actually to build a repository containing samples and information from women who have both high risk and normal pregnancies. This repository would be available for researchers for such things as the discovery of biomarkers to identify women and babies at risk for preterm birth and stillbirth, to create screening tools for potential adverse pregnancy outcomes, to generate diagnostics as well as treatment and prevention strategies and even for determining the cause of these conditions with hopes of prevention.

Needless to say, after being a part of this community and witness people I love live through the heartache of lossing a child, giving a few extra milliliters of blood, urine, undergo a couple more vaginal swabs, giving up some placental cells, cord blood and filling out a few questionnaires was a no brainer.

Tonight, as Grey and I are looking to the future, we are also taking a moment to remember all we've been through and the way it's changed us. Not once over the past few months have I not woken up without a silent "thank you" passing my lips seconds later. We both know how lucky we are to be where we are today and to have the support from such an amazing community and loved ones. Today's news is an even stronger reminder of that.

A new type of emotional rollercoaster

This space has been quiet for the past few weeks. Far quieter than I ever intended. Part of it has to do with work stress and lack on energy on my end. But the other part has been me dealing with issues that are usually not ALI-friendly. Issues that usually result in hateful comments or rants.

Before I go any further, I need to state very VERY clearly that I am in no way ungrateful for this pregnancy. After 3 yrs of TTC hell, which has included multiple rounds of IVF, isolation from family and friends who have been less than supportive, being lapped, enduring thoughtless questions and comments from the general public and pretty much giving up on the idea of biological children, not a day goes by where I don't stop and thank the Beats for deciding to stick around. This past week those moments have become all the more frequent, as I can finally feel distinct pops and flutters indicating movement from both of them. Believe me, the tears always following these reminders because I know how lucky we are to even be here.

Despite all of this, though, the past week has been one filled with panic attacks and feelings of isolation. In my own little world, I know Grey and I are managing things the best we can. But then I step outside and immediately begin feeling overwhelmed.

First off, there's the reality that I will officially be unemployed come July. Try as I might, there's really no way around this fact and as much as I know that the time at home will be beneficial for the Beats, I'm still freaking out. To date, I have not been without work for more than 3 weeks in over 18 years. I'm use to being self-sufficient and providing for my family. In addition there's the fact that I enjoy what I do and how dynamic the environment is. So dynamic that being out of it for any length of time can make it difficult to re-enter. Hence the additional level of fear about becoming irrelevant and outdated. The long and the short of it are that I'm working actively to put mechanisms in place so that I can prevent all of this. Still, it's scary to know that so much is up in the air and try as I might there's really nothing I foresee the outcome of all of it.

Then there's the logistics of being a pregnant infertile. Of straddling between being on the road of resolution while still having one foot in the trenches.

On Saturday, Grey and I met with Tina, her husband and E for breakfast. Grey and I first met E last year, during a much needed period following our second miscarriage and when we were making decisions about our journey to parenthood. It's amazing how much this little girl has grown and I spent most of our breakfast unable to take my eyes off this beautiful child. One thing that equally amazed me was that Tina had been so insistent on seeing me. I assumed wrongly that this pregnancy would be hard for her, as she was never able to have this experience, and didn't want to subject her to yet another bump. Yet she was filled with warmth and advice as we watched E color and charm all the waitstaff, talking about milestones, daycare and local resources for new parents.

Though the breakfast on Saturday was a fun one, it still resulted in Grey and I reflecting about past decisions later on that evening. Seeing E brought so much joy to our hearts and spurred us both to begin preparations for the Beats. But it also left my heart heavy. This feeling that something was still missing.

Prior to infertility/loss, adoption was something Grey and I had talked about, but in the manner most couples do. "Oh sure, we'll adopt one day" we chimed when asked about family building plans, but the reality was that we had about as much knowledge of the process as your average person on the street. We didn't know about the hurdles, the false-assumptions, the heartache and the stress. Nor did we understand the unique opportunity this process provides to build family, the joy and the love that can grow.

Seeing E brought all of this back to both Grey and I, reminding us how much we wanted to adopt. And with this realization came the fear that we may never be able to. That with all the logistics of caring for the Beats, of recovering from the financial drain caused by fertility treatments, that by moving forward with our careers, we will always be viewed as undesirable as candidates by any adoption agency. And that by not being able to move forward with this option, our family will never truly be complete.

All of this has come with the knowledge that we are far from being out of the woods with this pregnancy. The Beats are healthy and my body is behaving at the moment. But the fear of losing them still persists, knowing that my body has failed before. So on top of all of this, during a period when I know I should be over the moon and preparing for their arrival, I'm finding myself wrapped in guilt. That I'm neglecting our miracle twins and jinxing everything.

At this point, I'm at a loss for what to do. The moments of panic have slowly been subsiding now that I know I can talk with Grey about all of this, but the truth is that I feel very much alone at the moment. I feel crazy for feeling this way, for not being able to fully embrace what I have. Maybe it's just a sign that I need to be smacked.

Join the movement: Find your voice

Since the beginning of history, the shame of infertility/loss have been tightly linked with the blessings and joys of fertility and child-rearing. The Bible is filled with stories about infertility, such as Rachel and Leah, Hannah, Rebekkah and Elizabeth. In ancient Greece, Hera and Artemis were regularly prayed to by women seeking resolution. Even fairy tales are filled with examples of infertility, with classic tales such as Snow White, Thumbelina and Rapunzel. In all cases, the stories are the same: the heartbreak of longing for a child mixed with feelings of shame and unworthiness.

The 20^th century was an era of vast technological change. With the industrial era came the invention of motorized vehicles, space travel, modernization of medicine and advances in agriculture. It also brought with it advancements in fertility treatments. In the age of molecular biology, scientists were able to devise a method to join sperm with egg outside a woman’s body. Following the birth of Louise Brown, fertility treatments continued to be improved upon, with the introduction of new drugs, modifications to optimize protocols and invention of techniques such as intra-cytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI) and preimplantation genetic screening (PGS). By July 2012, more than 5 million babies had been born through assisted reproductive technologies, allowing for people who would previously have been unable to achieve pregnancy and bring home biological children.

Despite the leaps and bounds made by technology, though, infertility, loss and adoption remain very taboo topics. In many cultures, couples facing a diagnosis of infertility or repeat pregnancy loss are often shamed into remaining quiet or are met with platitudes such as  “relax,” “go on vacation,” or “God’s will.” Too often, infertiles/RPLers find themselves isolated during a time of intense trauma and grief. Nevermind talking openly about all the grief and the pain caused by this disease as the discomfort of others far outweighs any solace an infertile/RPLer would hope to find.

The problem with this model, though, is that by not talking about infertility and loss, the myth of deserved shame and grief is perpetuated. By remaining silent we encourage the 7.3 million people in the US alone (1 in 8 individuals) who are facing this trauma to live in the shadows.

Like many ALIers, following my diagnosis with unexplained infertility I chose to remain silent. A lot of my decision had to do with preserving my pride, as I didn’t want to be viewed as a whiner. The few who I did confide in were quick to reassure me that my inability to become pregnant was simply due to me being stressed. Yet as time went on I knew we were missing something. After all, Grey and I were doing everything we were suppose to without success while others we knew continued to find themselves accidently pregnant following misuse of birth control or under the assumption that it couldn't happen that easily. It was following my sister’s tearful announcement that she too had an “oops” that I knew it was time for a change as remaining silent about our situation was not only hindering my ability to process the trauma that is infertility, but was actually exacerbating my grief.

Since coming out of the infertility closet I’ve found a community filled with men and women from all walks of life who not only understand, but who have been able to support Grey and me during moments when others were unable. Through writing about all the failed treatments, our miscarriages, the uncertainty and the myriad of emotions, Grey and I both have been able to not only heal, but also find the strength to continue on our quest to expand our family.

Most rewarding has been learning how sharing our story has impacted others. Discussions with others about our journey has always resulted in someone pulling me aside to tell me that they’ve been on this road too, resulting in extended conversations about their path and all they’ve been through. In addition, we’ve found that those who might otherwise be blissfully clueless about the ALI world have become more sensitive to those around them, modifying their behavior under the realization that seemingly benign questions about family planning are truly not.

The movement to bring awareness about infertility and loss is not a new one, with the early pioneers blazing the trail and choosing to talk not only about their journeys but the need for support and understanding. It was because of these pioneers that the advances in medical treatment exist, that RESOLVE exists and that the ALI community exists. Without these pioneers, we’d still very much be in the dark-ages.

Still, there is work to be done.  Despite treatment options, few still have the means to access this care. Equally so, many suffer silently assuming that they are alone in facing the trauma that is infertility/loss. By joining the movement, even in the simplest ways, we are changing the conversation. Instead of hiding the scars of infertility/loss, having the courage to show them and talk candidly about how they’ve made us stronger promotes this change. Joining the movement doesn’t mean one is required to tell their full story to strangers. Even today, I find myself assessing the situation before I launch into my TTC timeline.  But what it does mean raising awareness, such as posting about NIAW on Facebook (and maybe even using some of Keiko Zoll’s headers fabulous headers), it means refusing to allow the myths to continue by correcting someone gently, and it meanreaching out to someone who’s struggling. Even the acknowledgment that infertility is a disease affecting 1 in 8 individuals in the US (1 in 4 globally) reaches this goal. No act is too small for this cause. No action is without meaning.

This year I encourage to find your voice. Join the movement.

To learn more about infertility and loss, check out these resources from RESOLVE:

      http://www.resolve.org/infertility101  (Basic understanding of the disease of infertility.)

·       http://www.resolve.org/national-infertility-awareness-week/about.html (About NIAW)

Seeing the forest

First off, I want to take a moment to extend my thoughts and well-wishes to everyone located in or who has family/loved ones in the Boston area. Grey and I have spent the last 24 hrs connecting with people we care about there and the stories we've watched unfold have sickened both of us. To everyone living with this tragedy, you are in our hearts.

Since my last post, I've been taking some time to reflect on all the comments as well as the events in the aftermath. It's taken me a lot of time and energy to get to a place where I can reflect, as there's been a lot of anger over all the bad news. Through all of this, one message has been consistently clear: somehow we'll survive all of this. It may not be pretty nor will it be as planned, but there will be good things that will come. It's just a matter of seeing the forest for the trees. Problem is, I still can't see the forest.

It's probably no secret by now that I struggle to see the big picture in life. Too often, I find I get caught in the details, or at least the less than favorable ones.  This is actually one of the things that drives Dee crazy with me, as I'm quick to discount hard work towards goals or other good aspect in favor of focusing on failure and hardship. I can't begin to count the number of sessions where she's sat across from me, giving me a look of pure frustration when this happens. Still, old habits die hard, with me wanting to focus my time and attention on what's been lost, failing to see what can be gained.

Sunday night, after picking Grey up from the airport and spending a car-ride home in tears over being frustrated, I managed to calm myself long enough to remember a section of Patricia Irwin Johnston's book about crisis.

Source

Currently there is some debate about this, but a popular interpretation of the Chinese symbol for "crisis" is derived of two characters: one that means "danger" and the other that means "opportunity." Ms. Johnston uses this interpretation in the beginning chapters of her book to make a case for how the crisis we face while dealing with infertility/loss can bring opportunity through resolution. The wisdom in all of this, though, is that these lessons are not limited to expanding one's family.

As I sat with these thoughts, I began to think about why recent events bothered me so much. After all, Grey and I are acutely familiar with failure and rejection, why is it that this time I wasn't getting so caught up in this news? And that's the moment I decided it was time to be brutally honest, revealing a part of me that I'm not very proud of.

What I'm about to write is surly going to anger many, as I'll seem greedy and ungrateful. I know for a fact that the me of a year ago would be slapping the me of today if she saw this. But in an effort towards mapping out my train of thought, here goes. Back in December, when David had me doing visualizations, I decided to take the exercise to a whole new level. Instead of simply focusing on the cycle working, focusing on the positive outcome, I also decided to visualize the life I wanted to have. So in addition to watching my future children playing, I also visualized them coming into work with Grey and I. I visualized them being a part of the culture we worked in, interacting with other children who had parents who were scientists. I visualized both of us being successful in our careers, easily making the transitions that were needed. So when the news came in January that this cycle had not only resulted in a BFP, but that both embryos had implanted, I began to hope that maybe all of it would come true. After all, we had suffered for so long that maybe, just maybe we would finally be able to move beyond it all.

Needless to say, getting my hopes up only to part of them come crashing down threw me. I truly thought that after all the writing, the scrambling, the hours of discussion and the plans that something would come through. After all, this arena is what I knew. Granted, I knew the risks, but I never expected the rug to be completely pulled out from underneath us. Hence, I've been focusing on the trees. The trees that once held promise that have been stripped, girdled and even uprooted. Those beautiful trees that I planted and tended to that are now gone.

My issue at the moment is that I'm failing to see the forest. Sure, I logically know that it's there and that with death there is the possibility of new life. But my heart still isn't in for letting go what was lost. Thankfully Grey has been the one taking charge of the situation, viewing the ending of this postdoc as an opportunity to move forward with new and exciting things. He's making plans, networking and viewing being kicked out of the nest as an opportunity for freedom and to soar. More than once he's admitted he's frightened for what will come, but he's also excited to finally be free of the obligations of training. It goes without saying that I envy his strength and wisdom. Especially since I feel like I'm failing my family as the one bit of stability I had been building is gone.