What Is Normal, Anyway?

* This post was written roughly a week before it was posted, when I just completed 37 weeks.


It's as if I tried to live like everything's normal.

We have contenders for names, but haven't really chosen one or made great efforts toward choosing one.

I haven't yet packed a bag for the Birth Center.

We haven't focused on reading books to learn about parenting or even pregnancy and childbirth for that matter.

I didn't maintain my exercise routine like I imagined I would.

I haven't made many physical preparations for natural delivery as I originally expected and planned to do.

I haven't knit one single stitch for the baby.  Not one.  I always imagined that the minute I learned I was pregnant I would pick up my knitting needles and not put them down until I had completed a layette, a stuffed animal, booties, a hat, and a blanket for the baby.

Instead, I picked up the TV remote, slept a ton, or went out of the house as a distraction.

I have spent most of this pregnancy distracting myself from the abnormal...even while the abnormal is a type of normal for our family.

We decided to pursue IVF just before we moved into a house that was damaged by our previous tenants.  We scrambled to restore a sense of order to it while DH was away in California for a month of training and prior to him leaving for Iraq. 

He left for Iraq just after we learned the IVF was unsuccessful and we had lost and were grieving the loss of 14 of 15 embryos.  We count them in our hearts as 14 children we have yet to meet.

DH deployed and a few days later I started another round of hormones for the Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET).

A few weeks after the deployment began, we had the procedure to transfer our one frozen embryo into my uterus. DH was there via Skype.

DH and I learned we were pregnant "together" over the Internet...a new kind of "normal" for us.

I went through cravings, morning sickness, mood swings, and physical changes in my own house, by myself, without my support system/partner/best friend/husband.

I often forgot I was pregnant when I was at home because DH wasn't there to remind me by making sweet comments that expectant fathers make to their wives.  Even after I started showing and could feel the baby move, I would forget for large portions of the day that I was pregnant because it wasn't part of what was "normal" in my world.

Copyright 2012 Rebekah Lynn Photography

Only when the baby moved or when someone outside of the house commented on my appearance would I remember I was pregnant.  I didn't have a husband doting on me at home, putting his face to my belly and talking to the life growing inside of me.  Our baby didn't really hear her father's voice until well into the 8th month of pregnancy.

My battle buddy, the cat DH and I had learned to love in spite of all of it's awful habits and personality traits...the cat God had used to test our metal, to strengthen our resolve, and to prove our dedication, commitment, and loyalty...the cat that had provoked me to cuss on a regular basis but over which would rise up in me a fiercely loyal defensiveness if anyone spoke an ill word against it...the cat family members insisted we get rid of if we were to have children...the cat that we had FINALLY rehabilitated, FINALLY convinced it was safe and not in danger in the world, that could FINALLY be around children and behave almost as a normal cat...this cat we had poured our time, love, and money into for seven and a half years...died.

Normal was slipping even further away.

I became ill with what felt like, looked like, and yet wasn't the Flu.  There was no one there to bring me water when I needed a drink.  No one to bring me something to eat, much less prepare it.  I ran fever for six days, by myself, in my room, yet I still had the other cat to take care of.

I seldom get sick.  When I do, DH is usually there to care for me.  It's also usually normal for me to let my fever run its course and for me to sleep as long as I need to without worrying about eating.  With the baby on board, I HAD to eat and I NEEDED to keep the fever down.  But, because the baby was on board, a simple cold that wouldn't have phased me normally, knocked me on my rear and had me bedridden for days.  I praise God for my mom who was able to go out of her way to stop by my house twice during that time to bring me medicine and to do what she could to set up my room where I would have to get up as little as possible. 

For once, the baby was constantly on my mind as I feared I wasn't staying cool enough with my temperature spiking so frequently, and I feared I was starving the poor child as I was unable to prepare much to eat or even stomach much of anything.  

Normal was the farthest thing from my world at that time.

I recovered physically and then the holidays came.  Not only was DH not here for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year, but my hormones were changing as I settled into a new trimester, my body was expanding as the baby grew, and I foolishly planned to spend every free moment of the holidays with family...first with DH's, and then with my own.  I don't even do that when DH is here to help me keep perspective.  I have no idea why I thought it would be a good idea in his absence.  Normal was non-existent.

The holidays were an emotional disaster for me personally and there were several casualties of my internal war who were deeply affected.  While I've recognized, repented, and done what I could to set things right again following the aftermath, there is still healing that will have to occur before any real sense of normal can be reestablished with some who were involved.  On a positive note, my relationship with my mother is stronger than it's ever been before and I'm excited for her to be involved with us as the baby arrives.  But there were deep wounds elsewhere that will require more than time for healing.

At some point in the midst of all of this, DH's unit said they were coming home.  Then they weren't.  Then they were, then they weren't again.  Meanwhile, my support group at church had the other unit's wives in it, rejoicing when I was sad and sad when I wanted to rejoice, as their husbands' unit was the counter-tug in our tug-of-war of who gets to come home and who has to stay.  When one woman whose husband is enlisted brought up the accusation that I couldn't understand something because my husband is an officer, I had to quit going to the group.  I had enough in my life working against me negatively to subject myself to such accusations and lack of support in the very place I was seeking support.

DH's unit was finally chosen to stay and I was finally able to rest in knowing when he would return.  There were some good days, but I was tired a lot and found it difficult to eat.  I learned I wasn't getting enough protein, so I found a new resolve to get more creative and was able to remedy the situation.  It's difficult to have the motivation to prepare ample, healthy food for just myself, especially when I'm already lacking energy.  Had DH been home, cooking would have seemed more necessary, and would have been easier because he would have helped either pick up groceries or taken care of the dishes...most likely both.  As it was, it was easier for me to eat the bare minimum after my pot of stew for the week ran out when I didn't even have the energy to clean the now-empty pot.


Word came that DH was coming home early and that we would be in another town for a couple of months just as the baby was due.  Hello, Normal!


I scrambled to get things in order, attended a birth class (sans husband) meanwhile dealing with the aforementioned aftermath of the holidays.  During this time, I learned of some very difficult news involving two of our closest friends.  DH and I were floored and longed to be there for them in any way possible, yet we were extremely limited in our options.  Fasting (from media, not from food) and prayer became the new normal for me.


Meanwhile, as my heart was aching for these dear friends, my life was suddenly a whirl of baby showers and last minute repairs and preparations on the house.  I attempted to get the nursery as ready as possible and make the house feel as put-together as possible, even though there was still much to do to restore what the renters had ruined.


Finally, DH was due to arrive!  Yet even that had its drama, requiring me to reschedule plans with the hotel at least three times.  And while I had trepidations of what it might be like for my husband to see me for the first time in 8 months and for us to be "reunited" (ahem) for the first time since becoming pregnant, at the 8th month mark, I didn't allow those concerns to overshadow his homecoming.  I looked forward to finally regaining a sense of normal.


But, as any good military wife knows, so much changes over a deployment.  Obviously my body had changed.  But the REASON behind my body's changes was going to be the biggest adjustment.
I was excited to have him home and couldn't wait for him to talk to the baby and help me feel pregnant, help me feel like being pregnant was normal.  Neither of us had had any idea how strangely difficult it would be to overcome seven and a half years of thinking of ourselves as incapable of being pregnant.  While embracing the fact that we were pregnant was not at all difficult, embracing the pregnancy and all that it involves as something WE were privileged to experience was beyond surreal and far, far from normal.

Copyright 2012 Rebekah Lynn Photography

So, here we are...in an RV my parents so graciously allowed us to borrow so our cat could stay with us, in a town three hours from my nurse-midwife and the hospital I originally expected to deliver at, three weeks a way from the 40 week mark, completely unprepared for what is to come.  As my friends who were due the same time as I am either have already given birth (prematurely) or are experiencing symptoms of labor, I am keenly aware of how much preparation for DH and me there is still to be done.  We have contingency plans in case our ideal plan of delivery doesn't pan out, and the baby will have all she needs when she arrives...but this is not where or how I imagined I would be at the nearing of our first child's arrival.


For me, it seems, "normal" is the lack of normalcy.  And trying to cling to my idea of normal only muddies the water and delays preparation for what is to come.


I am thankful to be expecting this child.
I am thankful DH is here to talk to her, to lead, support, and encourage me, and to physically represent God's continued faithfulness and steadfastness in my life.
Neither of us really knows what we will do when the time to birth this baby comes, but that's pretty much standard operation for our lives.  The plans we have set in advance often fall by the wayside and we usually have to adjust at the last minute to the way things actually pan out.  We are planning to prepare better for the delivery, in what little time we have remaining...at the very least, I will finally pack a bag ;-)  
But I've been reminded over these last nine months that, while normal is in no way overrated, it is not something that is always beneficial to cling to.  Part of why I love the life of being in the military, why I love marriage, and why I longed to experience pregnancy is because of the adventure of it all.  
"Normal" tames adventure, and let me tell you, this year has been one wild ride!

Copyright 2012 Rebekah Lynn Photography

Frozen Embryo Transfer-FET

Let me begin by saying, I was immensely blessed to have the company of my two dear friends G and A as I went through this procedure.  I cannot say enough what a blessing they were to me.  I realized in the middle of the procedure that I needed their presence in the room...that if they hadn't been with me, I would have been a puddle of tears instead of the loopy, valium-induced-calm self that I was able to be.  They assisted me with anything I needed before, during, and after the procedure, and waited on me hand and foot when we got back to my house. Truly I am blessed by their love and friendship.  So, G, and A, THANK YOU!!!

~~~

Words cannot describe how amazing the experience was for us during our Frozen Embryo Transfer, but I'll do my best to find the right ones.

Monday morning, I awoke with a prayer on my heart: "Lord God, please place your hand on this embryo as it thaws and keep it safe and healthy through the thaw."

All I've been able to think about for weeks is whether or not the embryo would survive the thaw.  I had not even begun to allow myself to think about, or even pray about, whether or not the embryo would implant.  I couldn't, until I knew the embryo survived.

When the embryologist came in and showed me the picture of our embryo and described it's condition to me, I could sense that he loved his job.  I got the impression that it would make his day for me to ask him as many questions as I could think of about what he gets to do as an embryologist.  I smiled, wishing I had the time to think of questions for him.

When he told me that there was no evidence of any cell damage to our embryo, and that he couldn't even tell that our embryo had been frozen, an image came to my mind of the hand of God covering our embryo and overseeing the thawing process Himself.  I was overwhelmed by how completely God had responded to the prayer of my heart.  He not only safely thawed the embryo, but he went above and beyond and prevented any damage, and made it so that an experienced embryologist was unable to tell it had ever even been frozen.

But the blessings didn't end there!

It turns out that, although the clinic was in the process of attaining wireless Internet that week, it was not up and running.  I had brought along my computer on the off chance that they may have it so that I could attempt to bring my DH into the room via Skype.  I decided, since I had my computer with me, to see if there were any unprotected wireless services in the area.  Sure enough, there was a dentist office nearby that graciously, though unknowingly, allowed me to access their wireless Internet while I was in the pre-op room. (*Note-a FET is not an operation, but it's performed in the same room as an IVF which is an operation, so the room they prep you in for both procedures is the same and called the "pre-op" room)

I was able to reach my DH via Skype prior to the procedure, but wasn't sure I would be able to access the Internet I was borrowing all the way back in the procedure room.  So, I uploaded (downloaded?) Skype to my iPhone and ran a few test calls to DH.  No luck.  It would not work on my phone.  I tried several times to make a good connection with him on my iPhone and it didn't work.  I decided I should be thankful he was able to be with me before, and that I would be able to contact him immediately after, but that we would still try bringing my computer into the room anyway.

On the way to the procedure room, we lost the Internet connection.  But after a few minutes, I heard the Skype ring on my phone!  I answered it, but there was no response.  My image was showing up, and the phone said we were connected, so I just assumed DH could see everything even if he probably couldn't hear it.  About three minutes later I heard my sweet husband's voice say, "Hello?"

I was beyond excited!  I was thrilled!  He could hear us, AND he could see what was going on.  There was no delay, no scrambled words, no garbled images, no freezing of the screen.  He was right there with us every step of the way, having conversations with the doctor and seeing everything as it was happening!  To me, this is also nothing less than the hand of God intervening and responding to another cry of my heart.  We never have such a perfect connection on Skype, and for it to have even worked on my phone was astounding.

Then another amazing thing happened!

When the embryologist put the image of our embryo up on the screen, it was in the process of hatching!  The energy of the room changed immediately when we saw this on the screen and I could tell it must be a very exciting thing!  (Keep in mind, I was on Valium for this and I was a bit stoned...my reasoning skills were greatly limited.)  I learned later that it is critical for an embryo to hatch in order to be able to implant, so this was a very good sign.  Also, as I reflected on it after the Valium wore off, I realized this meant that the embryo was still living and growing and healthy!  

(I realized as I played the video back later that the doctor actually pointed out this fact to me, but apparently I was too stoned to process it.  

His words were: "So it's looking really, really good. It's not only re-expanded, but it's already hatching.  It's beautiful, isn't it.")

And to a woman who longs for assurance that this just might work, to a woman who has been living with infertility for seven and a half years, even under the influence of Valium, it was a beautiful sight to behold, indeed.

The morning of the transfer, I wore my #hope t-shirt.  I have only worn that shirt twice before, and the last time I wore it, my hopes were nearly extinguished at a pool party.  But the morning of the transfer, I awoke with hope in my heart and with two key verses swirling in my mind from the day before.

"Now hope that is seen is not hope.  For who hopes for what he sees?  But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." (Romans 8:24b-25)

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1)

I know without a doubt that God heard my heart's cry, that He safely thawed our embryo, that He arranged for my husband to be "with" me, and that He graciously allowed us to catch a glimpse of how He "weaves us together in the secret place".  My heart is filled with quite a bit more hope this time than it was last time, even as I try to guard it, knowing that it may not yet be our time to rejoice.

If we become pregnant as a result of this transfer, our hearts will overflow abundantly with joy!  If we do not become pregnant as a result of this transfer, our hearts will certainly break, but we will still have comfort.  I will know without question that the God of the universe, the God I serve, is still good, still God, and still with me.  My hope is not in having children.  It is certainly something I hope for, but my hope is in knowing that I have been adopted as a child of God.

~~~~~~~

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.  For by it the people of old received their commendation.  By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible." *

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.  For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.  For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.  For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.  And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.  For in this hope we were saved.  Now hope that is seen is not hope.  For who hopes for what he sees?  But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." **

*Hebrews 11:1-3

**Romans 8:18-25

Blood Clots, Friends, and the Sound of My Blood

Three nights ago, I was at my in-laws' house and a strange thing happened with my left leg.  We were sitting on the couch looking at blue-prints for their new house when suddenly my left leg was swollen, throbbing, slightly purple, and going numb.

I adjusted my leg several different times, finally propping my left foot up on the ottoman (footstool).  Ten minutes later, the swelling went down, the throbbing stopped, the original color returned and my leg felt fine.  I mentioned it to my husband when we chatted that night (via Yahoo! chat), but he was not concerned.

Normally, such a thing would just be a strange phenomenon and I would think nothing of it, but in preparation for our upcoming Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET) I am having to take estradiol, which is a hormone that has the potential to cause blood clots.  

I am healthy, I don't smoke, I don't have a history of blood clots, so the chances are slim that I would have an issue.  Normally, the concern for blood clots is far from my mind.  However, my leg also does not normally swell up suddenly and go numb.  So, I have been a little more aware of my legs and their behavior the past couple of days.

Last night, while visiting a dear friend in a city a few hours from where I live, my friend and I went for a walk.  It was truly just a stroll around the block.  However, halfway through the walk, my feet were swollen and throbbing and my hands were so swollen it was too painful to let my arms swing by my side.  These things are also incredibly unusual.

I propped my feet up, once inside, then went to bed a little while later, exhausted.  As I lay there drifting into sleep, I noticed that my lower left leg felt like it was bruised, so I reached my hand down to touch it and my leg was very tender.  But there was no bruise, and I had done nothing that would have bruised it.

I made a mental note to tell my DH when we were able to chat next, and I fell asleep.

This morning, my DH was able to call me via the telephone.  The connection was terrible, but it was wonderful to hear his voice!  I told him about my leg feeling bruised the night before and his tone changed.  He asked a few more questions, and based on my answers, he mentioned that I might want to go to the hospital to have it checked out.  He also indicated that since he wasn't here and able to truly assess me that he wasn't certain I should go.

So, we agreed that I should call the fertility clinic and speak to a nurse.  I called the clinic this morning and left a message.  She spoke with my Reproductive Endocrinologist, and he said that I should definitely go in to the emergency room to rule out a blood clot.  He told her to convey to me that it's highly unlikely that I would have one considering my age and health, but that with the symptoms I was having (which I have not described fully here) it would be best for me to go in to be certain.

So, my friend drove me to the military post hospital here in town, and I received excellent care from the emergency room staff :)

When I described my symptoms to the nurse, he was concerned, especially when he learned that I had been in the car for long periods of time many times recently and what type of medication I was on.

The doctor, however, was not as concerned.  His face actually fell when he heard my description of my symptoms and located the points on my calf that I described as tender. I could tell that he was clearly unconcerned and it felt as if the tests he ordered at that point were simply a formality for his own protection.

I felt a bit stupid, but my friend reminded me of the importance of being cautious and advocating for my body, taking care of it, especially in light of the importance of future events (the FET).  Which also reminded me that I had been encouraged by my husband (a PA) to go in, and had been instructed by my physician to go in.  So, even if the ER doc thought that I was a waste of his time and taxpayers' money, I believe it was still the right decision for me to go in.

The doctor ordered an ultrasound of my leg, and it showed that my circulation from my foot was good and there were no clots.  I must say that the sonographer (x-ray tech, whoever) was very nice and did a great job.  AND, I must also say, that my blood flowing through my veins sounds super cool!!!  It's amazing! 

Now, lest that ER doctor (a 3rd year med-school resident) be slandered, I should inform you that he was very nice, very knowledgeable, and very thorough.  I should also let you know that I conveyed my perspective of the doctor to the nurse, about how I felt like he considered my case to be a waste of time and why I felt that way, and the nurse (who was spectacular) had a heart to heart with the doctor.  

Afterward, the doctor came in prior to discharging me and had a completely different attitude and demeanor, took the time to talk to me like a person instead of a warm body, and displayed the fact that he can not only handle constructive criticism, but that he has a teachable heart and is willing to admit he's not perfect and adjust his behavior to apply things he's learned.

So, Kudos! to the nurse named "Cowboy" at the hospital for caring enough about the patients to listen to them and the resident docs to take them under his wing.  Kudos! to the doc for doing a great job and for redeeming his reputation by showing he actually does care.  Kudos! to my amazing friend and her husband for allowing me to dominate so much of their time today and to my amazing friend for sitting with me for hours and talking sense to me when I was prone to be dramatic and nonsensical.  And Kudos! thanks and praise to God for providing for my needs in a town that is not my home, for blessing me with friends that love me unconditionally, and for keeping me safe and healthy.

I am to follow up with my Primary Care Manager (PCM) in about a week to have another ultrasound of my leg just to be certain there wasn't a clot hiding in my lower leg.  (The week gives it time to travel into my upper leg, if there's a clot, where it can be located by ultrasound.)  Apparently an ultrasound is only done from the knee up on the leg if a clot is suspected.

Thank you to those of you who were so kind to express your concern via twitter!  I appreciate your concern and support.  What a privilege it is to be uplifted so frequently by this community.  Kudos! to you all as well!  ;)

Blessings,

Julia

Hormones, Deployments, & Babies-Oh, My!

I'm sitting here in bed beside my sleeping husband.  Today is our last full day together.  He will not lay beside me again for a very long time.


We have done our best this past month to make memories that will give us boldness to face this time apart and to help bring us through the first few weeks while we settle in.


I think we've done a pretty good job.  Making memories.  We've had quite a bit of fun the last few days reliving the memories of this last month together.  While I'd love to hash through them all again here, I will instead focus on two moments that were not particularly comfortable, but will stick with me for quite some time.


Over the 4th of July holiday, my husband and I travelled a few hours North to spend time with my siblings and their families.  We were daily among a total of ten of the dearest children I have ever known.  We love being with all of them and were blessed to have had this opportunity to spend such quality time with them before my husband leaves.


The night before we left, our family asked if they could pray for us before we all went to bed since the two of us would be leaving before anyone else would be awake.  It was a blessing and I was reminded once again, as I listened to the prayers, what an amazing gift we have been given to have such a supportive family.


After the prayer time, we all said "goodnight" and "goodbye."  I found myself in a conversation with one of my nieces (age 5) and one of my nephews (age 8) that went something like this:


Niece: How old are you?
Me: I'm 33.
Nephew: WHOA!  You're older than my mom!
Me: Yes.  Yes, I am older than your mom :-)
Nephew: (gears turning in his head)  And you don't have any children.
Me: No. No, we don't have any children.
Niece: (interjecting while Nephew processes) When are you going to have children?
Me: Well, I don't know :-)  We're surely trying.
Nephew: (with a look of concern, spoken with pauses) Do you think, maybe, God made it, so that you and [your husband] can't have children? (the concerned look remained)
Me: Yes, Nephew, that's exactly what I think (I smiled, he nodded- still processing the thought)
Niece: But you're going to a doctor! (spoken with enthusiasm and a smile)
Me: Yes, we are.  We're going to a doctor to get help to have a baby.


And as quickly as the conversation started, the conversation ended.  I love how easy it is to have conversations with children!  There's no pretense,  just straightforward conversation.  
And what a precious conversation that was to me!  My 8-year-old nephew took a moment in a day to process the reality, the weight, of the fact that we don't have children.  There are few adults that can, or will, do that!  This is a memory I will treasure.


After we returned from our holiday trip, we felt obligated compelled to drop in on a gathering our small group was having so DH could say, "goodbye."  Also, a friend's husband was home for R&R and DH wanted to see him since they'd be moving before DH gets back.


It is extremely hot in Texas this time of year, so the gathering was actually a pool party.  We did not wear bathing suits as we only intended to stay long enough to say "goodbye" but I would have been much more comfortable in something other than blue-jeans.


However, the discomfort of wearing blue-jeans in the heat was nothing compared to the emotional discomfort I felt about ten minutes into our time there.


Let me set the stage: 

• DH and I had limited time together and I was keenly aware of that fact and did not want to share him with anyone, much less a bunch of people I'm still not fully comfortable with...
• We had just returned from a trip to Austin for a baseline ultrasound appointment at which DH had to sign papers to give me permission to transfer our frozen embryo and/or have a fresh IVF cycle using his sperm while he's away...
• I had worn my #hope t-shirt for the occasion, but was feeling pretty hopeless in light of the fact that my favorite person on the planet was about to be taken away from me for who-knows-how-long...
• And (just for good measure) I had been taking estrogen (you know, the hormone I often describe on twitter as "not a happy hormone"), so on top of being emotional about my husband leaving, I was also dealing with hormonal mood swings and hot flashes.

So, my friend (the woman who was the maid of honor in my wedding, whose husband we were there for my husband to see...the one woman in that group who actually knows the depths of who I am) came up to me holding her third child while her other two children swam in the pool.

My husband had gone off to visit with the guys and I was standing beside a tree trying to avoid getting sucked into any conversations, but I was glad my friend came to say hi.

We had a lovely chat in which we commiserated over the woes and angst of being apart from our husbands, and I was encouraged.

Yet in the midst of that conversation, it was as if in an instant, a world out of focus came into perfect clarity.  (It was like something out of a movie when a person's lost and in danger in a crowded place, disoriented, and all of a sudden they clearly see their enemy standing with their sights set on them.)

I was standing there in my #hope t-shirt, my friend beside me holding her infant, two women beside the pool with their new-borns laying in the shade, children FILLING the pool, pregnant bellies in bathing suits walking around the pool, a visiting grandmother cooing at a baby, toddlers walking past me to get food from their parents.

I am not kidding when I tell you that I looked around in a slight state of panic, desperately seeking one adult among the group who was not a parent!  

I was standing there beside a tree, my husband far from me, and the reality that THIS group of people is the group of people I'm supposed to fellowship with over the course of possibly a year or more WITHOUT MY HUSBAND, and I have NOTHING in common with them! (Now, of course, that is an exaggeration.  I do have things in common with them.  But at that moment, the two things that mattered most to me-my husband leaving and not having children-were the commonalities I was looking for.)

In our group, there are three couples besides us who do not have children.  One couple thinks they may be infertile (which is NO consolation), one couple is a blog post of it's own, and the other couple called us the day after this party to tell us we had missed the announcement at the party because we left early, but they wanted us to know they are pregnant.

Thankfully, we left very soon after my moment of panic.  Thankfully, we left before the big pregnancy announcement.  Thankfully, I have had time with my husband to myself since then.  Thankfully, we have a frozen embryo and the opportunity to transfer him/her in the near future.  Thankfully, we have frozen "swimmers" in case the FET is a bust.  Thankfully, even in my husband's absence, I am not truly alone.  And thankfully, I have this day ahead of me to spend with him.

The sun has finally risen and DH's alarm just went off (not to mention this blog post is forever-long), so I will close.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.  If you think of us this week (and are one who prays), please pray for us as I'm sure we'll need it.

Blessings,

Julia

Embracing Reality

Apparently there's a limit to the amount of stress a body and mind can take.  My assumption is that when an individual has reached their limit that the evidence manifests itself in different ways.

My mother has tried to convince me since the first month of my marriage that my DH and I are under more stress than most people, and that this "excess" stress we are under is the underlying cause of our infertility.  I have always disagreed with her.

I still disagree.  I can't say that we are under more stress than most people, especially since different things stress different people in different ways.  For example, it stresses me out (and I mean STRESSES ME OUT) to go watch a movie in a theater, whereas most people consider going to the movies to be a leisurely activity, even relaxing.  Yet I find going to the grocery store to be relaxing, while most of my friends consider it a stressful chore.

Now, I will agree with my mother that the stressors we have been subjected to the past nine years are much different than what many people face, but just as not everyone was designed to be a biophysicist or a race car driver, not everyone was designed to live a life in the military.

Everyone, I'm convinced, has SOMETHING in their lives that is unique to their situation.  But we all adapt and cope and learn to juggle the "everyday normal life" things with the bigger stressors that have the potential to overwhelm us.  And while some amount of stress is a good thing and can make us stronger, every once in a while we find ourselves in a place where we could seriously use a break, or else our bodies (and even our minds) will break.

My body and mind have started giving me signals recently that I'm at the threshold of what I'm currently equipped to handle.

When our IVF cycle failed, I was truly okay.  By the grace of God, I had (and still have) an inexplicable peace about the timing of everything and the fact that we didn't get pregnant.

We met with our Reproductive Endocrinologist and constructed a timeline for our Frozen Embryo Transfer, and were actually relieved that we needed to wait a month because it meant we would not have to plan for sonograms in the midst of our vacation.

A few days after our two-week-wait was over, Aunt Flo showed up and it was time to start Block Leave.

Block Leave marks the countdown to deployment.  It's the time given by the military just before a deployment for the soldiers to have an extended vacation to make precious memories before they have to leave for a year.  

Now, a strange thing happened after DH's first deployment (which was 15 months).  Shortly after he returned, I began waking up in the middle of the night and also in the mornings, not knowing who he was or why he was in my bed.  I would often get out of the bed and move to another location, or I would use my feet to push him out of the bed.  I was never afraid of him, just very confused about why there was a man in bed with me, and unsettled to find myself in that situation.

The memory lapse would last anywhere from a few seconds to over a minute.  After a period of time, I would always remember who he was, but it still felt weird to cuddle with him, or even let my feet touch him, after I realized what had happened.

This continued for several years.  Until one day, it occurred to me that it hadn't happened for an entire year.

Enter the present.  The day we received the news that our IVF had failed, I awoke from a nap beside my husband and didn't know who he was.  

That night, around 12:30, I awoke and again did not know who he was.  I got up to use the bathroom (the whole time wondering if my embryos were floating inside of me or if they had reabsorbed) and after about a minute was finally aware of what was going on.  That same morning, as he was kissing me on the forehead before he left for work, I awoke and was startled because I didn't know who he was.  It only took a few seconds that time for me to recognize him.

I have always assumed that the original manifestation of this strange occurrence was tied solely to the deployment.  I just pushed it aside the first year, and only grew mildly concerned the second year, but also pushed it aside because we were going through major life changes.  Then, when we were free from the episodes for an entire year, I figured maybe my brain had sorted everything out.

This time, I found it strange that this resurfaced IMMEDIATELY after we learned that the IVF had failed.  True, we are facing an upcoming deployment, but then why would it not have started happening sooner, when I began taking note of the signs of the deployment?

When I posed this question to DH, he made an astute observation.  The one full year that I was completely free from these episodes, was the one full year that we took a break from fertility treatments.

Being a PA, he suspects that the massive amounts of hormones, and the giant hormone fluctuations could have some connection to it all.  Being a former psychology major, I suspect it has to do with emotional stressors.

Truly, I believe that it's probably a combination of those two things.

At the moment, I'm not exactly sure what to do about it.  I mean, I realize I have resources and options for help available, and I do plan on sorting through those options and finding a suitable plan.  But it's not like this can be fixed in the next several weeks before he leaves, and this time is precious (not to mention we're galavanting around the country, traveling).

So, why even include this as a blog post on a blog about infertility?  Well, for one thing, it's a very strange and unsettling thing to go through, and it helps a little to get it off my chest instead of acting like it's not a real thing I'm dealing with.  It's a little bit embarrassing, and I realize I'm taking a risk in sharing it (kind of like how it's difficult to share about IF b/c of the potential well-meaning advice when all you really want is empathy).

But, I'm also sharing it because I honestly thought I'd have a more intense reaction to the news of the failed IVF than I would have facing the reality of my husband's deployment.  For a girl who at one point wanted to be a mom more than she wanted to be married, it's oddly comforting to realize that when push comes to shove, the idea of losing my husband brings more angst to my soul than knowing that I'm not yet pregnant.  It's also oddly comforting to see that my desire for my husband and my desire to be a mom do not have to contend for a place in my life.  They each belong there and each remain with an intensity that sometimes overwhelms me.

I will find help for this strange way my body and mind have made it clear to me that I can use a break.  But I will also embrace the reality that is shining through.

The Wait is Over: Peace in the Pain

I forget sometimes that Twitter is not my blog ;-)  I'm on Twitter so frequently, ranting about my day or updating people on the latest happenings, that sometimes it feels like I've actually updated my blog.

My apologies for leaving you all hanging in the middle of my two-week-wait, when clearly that has long since passed!

Sunday, June 12th, was the day we had the blood work done to find out if we were pregnant.  We got up early, drove to Austin, had the blood drawn, ate a nice brunch, and drove home.

I was extremely tired from all of the progesterone in my system, and more than a little grumpy from all the other hormones, so I took a nap while DH read his Nook for a bit.

When it was finally time for us to page the on-call nurse for the results, DH asked if I would please take an at-home test so that if it was negative we would not be hearing the news from a stranger.

I complied because I honestly didn't care one way or another.  I wanted him to have the buffer if he needed it.  I just wanted to be done with the waiting.  I was fairly certain that the results would be negative.

And they were.  The pee stick showed a negative result.  A minute and a half later, we got the confirmation from the on-call nurse that the beta was in fact <1.  I thanked her for her time and tried to sound reassuring in my tone because I can only imagine how incredibly difficult it must be to be the one who has to give couples such difficult news.

The phone was on speaker, so I didn't have to relay the information to my sweet husband. He held me and we cried.  I cried for him because he was so completely heart-broken.  I did not have any sad tears about the loss of the embryos, and I wasn't sure why.  (I realized later that I had truly mourned their loss when we got the embryologist report a week earlier.  I had lost hope that day that they had survived.)

DH and I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with each other, hashing through the emotions and implications of the failed cycle.  We notified his parents and my parents of the news through a phone call, and we texted and e-mailed the rest of our friends and family, asking for some time to grieve.

I was blown away by the realization of the perfect timing of every detail (as difficult as the details of the day were).  I'll spare you a running recount of events, but it was amazing to me to see how specifically spaced out each event was in the course of that day.  It was very comforting to me because I could clearly see the hand of God all over our lives, and I had a peace wash over me regarding His timing for our family.

I shared that with my DH, and although it didn't ease his pain that day, over the next two days, he too was able to see the same perfect timing, and it also brought him comfort.  He commented that while the events that make the perfection of that timing clear are incredibly sucky, difficult, and/or frustrating, it's BECAUSE of how difficult those things are that we're able to see the perfection in the timing.  (Irony was an extremely difficult concept for me to grasp in high school...I suppose God is making sure that I get a full grasp of it through hands-on training.  lol!)

We have one beautiful frozen embryo in the blastocyst stage.  We have scheduled a Frozen Embryo Transfer for the month of July.  This month is devoted to shrinking down the remaining follicles on my ovaries, and making memories prior to DH's deployment.  He will not be able to be here for the transfer since we are having to wait until July, but we are trusting God's timing in the midst of all of this.

In the mean time, if you are one who prays and are wondering how we can use prayer, you can pray that the thawing of the embryo will be successful on the day of transfer and that the embryo will survive the thaw.  You can also pray that we will make the most of each day that we have remaining together and that I will not be in a funk.  While I was not at all depressed about the failed IVF, I have found myself battling depression at the thought of being separated from my husband for another year.

Thank you for your patience with my own imperfect timing.  Thank you for your support through your comments and through reading this blog.  And thank you for your prayers.  You are greatly appreciated!

Blessings,

Julia

An Anniversary Post

Three days ago, my husband and I celebrated our ninth anniversary.  And by celebrated, I mean we went out in T-shirts and jeans to a BJ's Restaurant, had a casual and early dinner, then went to spend the evening with friends.  Both of us have been so focused on this two week wait and the upcoming deployment that we basically forgot about our anniversary until the night before.

I awoke Wednesday morning as my husband was preparing for work.  He called out to me, "Happy Anniversary, Babe!"  I walked into the bathroom where he was getting ready to shave, kissed him on the cheek, and sleepily said, "Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart.  Even if we never have children, I'm thankful to have you as a husband.  I wouldn't want anyone else in the world."  

I turned and walked groggily back to bed and slept most of the morning away.

That moment in the bathroom was one of my favorite parts of that day.

Eleven years ago, my attitude was quite different.

I recall a day in which the subject of children came up between the two of us before we were even officially dating.  We both talked about how we wanted to have a large family and I was surprised that he wanted to have as large a family as I did, even though I had not told him how many kids I'd love to have.  When he busted out the number "12" in answer to my question of how many kids he wanted to have, I was blown away b/c that was the number in my heart.

I was so passionate in that discussion, and apparently in future discussions we had, about wanting to have many children that my Sweetheart (now my Dear Husband) felt compelled to ask me what I would do if we couldn't have children.  He asked if I would consider adoption.  

I told him that I certainly wanted to adopt, but that I wanted to have children biologically as well.  This was not answering his question completely, so he asked again, "What would you do if you found that you couldn't have children?" 

I am appalled today at what my answer was to him.  I remember telling him very sincerely, "I'm not sure, but I can tell you this: We better not find out whose fault it is, because if it was mine I'd be devastated and if it was his, I'd regret that I married him."

Wow!  What a little...UGH!  If I could go back in time and slap myself, I absolutely would!  There were so many occasions when I had such a pig-headed attitude (like the time I told someone that the day I dated my DH is the day pigs fly, or the time I told my DH that I'd be mad at God if I knew that God was going to make me like him in the future!  Ugh!  I don't even know the appropriate word to describe the person that I was).

Well, thankfully, God loves me too much to leave me the way I was, and he's done quite a number on my heart.  

You should know that my DH asked me that question in various ways at least a dozen times while we were dating.  So many times, in fact, that I actually asked him if he had some information about himself that I needed to know.

We had only been married a year and six months when we decided to stop using contraceptive.  The interesting thing is that I don't remember at all caring about who was to blame for our not being able to conceive.  I just remember being so disappointed and frustrated that it wasn't happening.

I remember, too, being concerned that we might get so consumed with getting pregnant that our marriage would suffer, so I communicated with my DH regularly on what I was thinking and how I felt, what my concerns were and what I thought we should do.  From the beginning, we were a team in dealing with Infertility.  And from the beginning, it was our goal to keep the desire for children from trumping our marriage.

So, we took breaks.  In seven years, we've only had five procedures (with one year of a holistic approach-which makes six "procedures," I suppose) to try to get pregnant.  I spent a year charting my cycle before we tried medical intervention.  But we only pursued the medical intervention because I was having so many issues with my cycle, and my options were to either take the birth control pill or get professional help.  By God's grace, we have been careful, thus far, not to let the desire for children consume our marriage. 

There was a time when I would have never considered having fertility treatments.  There was a time when I thought I wouldn't be able to love someone anymore if I were to find out they were the reason I wouldn't be able to have children.  I am so thankful for a husband who loves and fears God and who is able to love me when I'm at my worst, who is able to be so patient and tender as he trusts that I will not be at my worst forever.

I eventually came to a place where I realized several things:

• My marriage is more important to me than having children.
• My dream to have children is still alive in my heart, and will happen, someday, someway.
• God is the author of life, and it is his alone to give and take away.
• God has used every single time in my life that I have been angry with him to teach me more about how he loves me, his faithfulness, his forgiveness, and his grace.
• God has used every single trial I have faced in my life to strengthen me and to get rid of disgusting parts of who I am (like the attitudes I described above).
• I am blessed beyond measure to have the husband that I have been given and I treasure him more each day.

So, I am thankful to be able to say with my whole heart that regardless of when, if, or how we have children, I am THANKFUL to have been given the privilege of being married to my husband and I have NO REGRETS that I married him.  

I still sit in awe, sometimes, when I think of how he had seen me at my absolute worst on numerous occasions and was still willing, and even desired, to marry me.

Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart!  May this be only the beginning of a long and fruitful life together!

~Julia