ICLW

If you're here as part of ICLW, welcome! (If not, you're still welcome! And you might want to check out the ICLW list, since it includes a lot of great blogs.)

It's been a year since I participated. Last time, I was new here and still reeling from a miscarriage late in the first trimester, after TTC for a while. I'm still trying. This past year, I've tried IVF both with and without stimulation. In fact, I'm in the middle of a no-stim cycle now. The Timeline page has more details, and the Index page has a list of posts that may be a good starting point.

Whenever I start listing the TTC facts, a rebellious feeling kicks in. But wait, I want to say. There's more to me than lab results and treatment lingo!  Except ... there hasn't been much more lately.This is all so draining, important, and time-sensitive that it's easy to forget how I also love reading, photography, spending time outdoors ... and some other stuff I can't seem to remember right now.

These past few years, mindfulness practice has helped me to maintain some balance. So has gentle exercise. So has connecting with other people, even (especially) when I just want to curl up into a ball. Really, anything that gets me out of the worry-loop in my head and out into the world tends to help.

Lately I've realized what a habit it's become to rein in my dreams and shut down my feelings. You know—it's the idea that if we don't acknowledge our desires, we won't be disappointed when they're not fulfilled; if we don't let ourselves feel joy when it's here, we won't miss it when it ends. But avoidance doesn't work. It just sucks the energy and motivation out of life. Instead, I'm exploring ways to stay open to hope without clinging to one specific outcome.

Anyway, feel free to look around, make yourself at home, and comment on anything old or new. And best of luck on your own journey!

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ICLW

If you're here as part of ICLW, welcome! (If not, you're still welcome! And you might want to check out the ICLW list, since it includes a lot of great blogs.) I signed up for a second time because last time was so worthwhile.

You can read the basics of my infertility journey here, and my first post explains why I started writing about it.

What's new this month? I'm still sitting out the recovery time after a miscarriage, which means there will be more than a 5-month gap between my last cycle and next. I have mixed feelings about the next.

On one hand, I wanted to start trying right away, because last time (almost) worked and that was awesome—it felt like a miracle. Also, there's just no time to spare; I have severe DOR, and it's probably time to move on to the most aggressive options.

Which leads to the mixed feelings. Surely I'm not the only one feeling discouraged, afraid, and overwhelmed sometimes? When those feelings are at their worst, I want to curl up under the covers and avoid dealing with anything else that's painful (enough already!) ... even if there may be rewards beyond the pain.

So last weekend, in my best kind-but-firm "mom voice," I had a little talk with myself about the avoidance habit. It was an infertility intervention—a name I borrowed from this post at The 2 Week Wait, which says:

I know firsthand that it's easier to hope that things will work out somehow. That maybe next cycle, somehow, I'll get pregnant if I pray really hard or maybe I'll get pregnant while I'm in Disney World or maybe I don't have a problem and I just need to eat more chocolate.

No one wants to have an IVF. No one wants daily blood work or to be regularly intimately involved in vaginal sonograms. It sucks, it's not fun and it's not the way you expected it to be. The fact is though that if you're not getting pregnant, this is my personal urge to you to fight. Fight hard. See another doctor, get another opinion, be your own advocate and don't waste time avoiding what may be the very thing that can help.

That last sentence was just what I needed to hear. My own "intervention" involved several days of medical research and financial planning. (I've done all that stuff before, of course, but it's been a while.) It helped me separate feelings from facts. (Both are valid, but it's important to understand which is which.) It was unpleasant. It was also necessary. I now have a much better list of things to consider and to ask my REs.

So that's what's new. When I'm not obsessing about TTC options, I'm probably thinking about fostering options or just trying to maintain some sense of humor and perspective. Feel free to look around and comment on anything new or old. I'll pay you a visit in return. Sharing this journey with and learning from others has been one of the main forces helping me stay sane.

Happy ICLW!

ICLW Thanks

As my first ICLW comes to an end, I'm already looking forward to the next. It's been enlightening, healing, busy, and fun. I found some wonderful blogs to follow and got so much food for thought. In fact, there are ideas for many more posts swirling around in my head now, along with topics to research, questions I should remember to ask my doctors, etc.

I even managed to, you know, keep up with the commenting part. It shouldn't be a surprise, but secretly I wondered how this week would go, since it turned out to be busier than expected when I signed up. And, as always, the regularly scheduled depression was there to interfere.

I tried to comment on every blog that I read and to go down the list randomly, not just picking situations that seemed to have the most in common with mine. And I'm so glad. Before, I might have turned away from those who wrote a lot about their supportive spouse, pregnancy, or existing children. (Sorry—it's just a self-protective thing.) I might have resented women whose TTC odds seemed better than mine. And I would have missed out.

Because here's what I learned: we're ALL struggling with pain and fear, just in different forms. Yeah, we know this. But it's one thing to know intellectually and another to read about it in depth, day after day. Those people who "have it better" than me in one way or another? They also spent everything they had on multiple IVF cycles / have a husband who's away from home on military deployments / have a child with a serious birth defect / have a high-risk pregnancy / fought infertility for a decade / need major surgery to correct a uterine problem / lost babies to miscarriage and stillbirth / just lost someone else they loved / and many more situations than I can list here.

So I bow to those people—to all of you—for living through what you have and for sharing your example. Thanks for getting me out of my own head (see link above!) and making me feel at home.

ICLW Welcome

If you're here as part of International Comment Leaving Week, welcome! (If not, you're still welcome! And you might want to check out the ICLW list, since it includes a lot of great blogs.)

This is my first month of participating. In fact, it's my first month of blogging, so I should probably introduce myself. You can read the basics of my infertility journey here, and my first post explains why I started writing about it.

Because things have been difficult lately, my posts are going to be on the serious side. Please don't hesitate to comment, though. Serious does not equal unfriendly. I really like connecting with others, and I still like a good laugh (even if I'm usually not the one to initiate it these days).

Thanks for stopping by.

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