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

A Time to Weep and a Time to Laugh

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:...a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;" Ecclesiastes 3:1 & 4


First, I wasn't sure how to post about our joyous news without causing pain to my fellow infertiles still "in the trenches," so I waited.


Then, the nausea hit, along with the Random Moments of Comatose Sleep, so that I found it difficult to get myself out of the house, much less find the wherewithal to make sense of the thoughts inside my head for a blog post.


About the same time as the nausea hit, actually that same day, sadness seeped into my world over people I care about deeply, and a blog post about our joy seemed not only inappropriate, but was nowhere near the forefront of my thinking.


In one day, I learned of two people I care about deeply whose hopes were dashed.  One twitter friend who has had a major impact on me learned that her final attempt at IVF had resulted in a BFN (Big Fat Negative) and, based on certain circumstances, it seems (for now at least) she has no further options.  Another IF friend I know in real life had a situation that was drawn out over the course of the last week and a half, but that day I received the news that she was miscarrying.  Her pregnancy was a non-medicated pregnancy (meaning no help from a doc), and she was exactly the same number of days pregnant as I was.  She is one of my dearest friends, and my heart was torn in two.


Her situation became more complicated, and it was discovered that she had an ectopic pregnancy.  The entire week and a half was a heart-wrenching roller-coaster ride of emotions for all of us.  Even DH, half a world away, was full of sorrow at the news of their loss and the drawn out process of getting medical closure, and we grieved together over Skype, praying for our dear friends.


In the midst of that, another twitter friend went in for a routine ultrasound at 9 weeks, only to be told that there was no heartbeat.  I was dumbfounded.  My heart paused and I couldn't breathe as I read her tweet: "It's over. No heartbeat. I feel numb."  I flashed back to the day I had read her joyous news of her BFP (Big Fat Positive) and I remembered watching her heart melt and unfold each day as she embraced the joy of her pregnancy.  I was heartbroken for her, and I immediately imagined myself in her shoes.  She was two weeks ahead of me.  I had just, the day before, heard and seen our baby's heartbeat and had scheduled my own 9 week sonogram.  I was stricken with grief for her and fear for myself in the same moment, and I wept for her and prayed.


In the midst of all of this, there have been lots of prayers and lots of weeping.  People keep reminding me to enjoy each moment of this pregnancy (and I am enjoying it), but my mind and heart keep turning toward those still "in the trenches" of this journey through infertility, toward those suffering loss and attempting to find a way to pick up and move on, even as another battle scar forms on their hearts.  There have been moments in the past two weeks where I have asked God why these dear friends have to go through more pain when they have been through so much.  I am reminded that pain serves a purpose and, in the hands of God, hearts that go through it not only receive peace but they become stronger.


But it still sucks.  I'm sorry, but there's no "nice" word I can think of to describe how sucky it is.


In light of the suckiness of the pain of infertility, I desperately long to be mindful of those still waiting on their BFP.  I'm also very much aware that this week, this day, may be my last day of having the joy of this particular little life growing inside of me.


So, I have been hesitant to post on this blog, not knowing what I could say to express my joy without rubbing salt in the wounds of my readers.  I have been tentative in my tweets on twitter, trying only to answer questions about the pregnancy rather than volunteering information (although, if you follow me on twitter, you may have caught a glimpse of what I call my Incredible Hulk side coming through in response to every day circumstances...I don't have a very good filter on my brain lately).


After our sonogram, DH was eager to post the news of our pregnancy on Facebook.  Prior to the sonogram, we had agreed together that we would post on Facebook after we saw the heartbeat.  But I had not yet reached a dear infertile friend to let her know we were pregnant, and I did NOT want her to find out via Facebook!  After I was able to get a hold of her on the phone, she and I had a good visit and we both cried together as I reassured her that her tears were completely understood, and she reassured me that her tears did not diminish the joy she felt for me.


In preparation for our upcoming Facebook announcement, I reposted a twibbon from resolve.org on my profile picture, just to refresh people's memories that we have been struggling with infertility, and to remind them that chances are extremely high that they know someone who is suffering silently through infertility.  An acquaintance I have as a friend on Facebook, "liked" not only the new picture with the twibbon and a blip about infertility, but also the link to resolve.org that I posted.  Since she seldom, if ever, "likes" anything or comments on my page, I went to her profile page and immediately all the facts and signs came flooding to my mind to confirm in my heart that this friend is infertile.  Suffering silently, as far as I know.  I then learned that her sister had suggested she talk with me about IF, although she hasn't yet. 


This new information made me even more hesitant to broadcast our news via Facebook just yet, and I sent a text message to someone who could convey to this girl's sister that she had my permission to tell her we're pregnant, because I do NOT want her finding out via Facebook!


Here I was, aware of this girl, her age and circumstances, and yet it never occurred to me that she, too, might be infertile.  Yet I was the one posting a link, informing people that they probably know someone who is struggling through infertility and aren't even aware of it.


I would LOVE to talk with her about infertility.  I would LOVE to be an in-real-life support for her through this journey!  The question is, now that I'm pregnant, would she really want to talk to me?


My infertility hasn't gone away because I happen to be pregnant.  This sounds crazy, I know, especially to those not dealing with IF.  One response I have received to that statement was, "Well, right, because you don't yet have a living child in your arms."  To which I responded, "Even if I had a living child in my arms, I'm still infertile.  It still takes medical intervention to bring about pregnancy in me."


One thing that HAS happened as a result of this pregnancy, which totally caught me off guard, is that my infertility has suddenly become less about me and more about other people.  Getting to experience these things I thought I would never experience makes me more mindful of those who still long to experience these things.  There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not thinking about one of my IF friends' circumstances, whether I check twitter that day or not!


I'm a little bit afraid to post our news on Facebook, because I'm afraid of what my response will be to the people who assume we waited on purpose (not that I've kept it a secret, people just don't really pay attention on Facebook).  I'm afraid of how I'll respond to idiotic blanket statements or cliches.  I'm afraid of how I'll respond to people who bring up the infertility issue and grossly misrepresent, or show their complete lack of understanding.


I have found that lately I don't have a whole lot of grace to extend to people in my Incredible-Hulk-like mentality. ("You won't like me when I'm angry.")  It's not that I can't tap into the source of grace, or that grace is unavailable to me to extend.  I find that I have lost my desire to extend grace to certain people, and I am quick to respond as I feel a situation warrants. If a person is behaving like an idiot, instead of trying to see the good in them, or trying to figure out the motive for their asinine behavior, I'm more likely to simply call them an idiot.  Not behind their back, like I might have before.  But within ear shot of them, or even directly to their face.  (And when I use the word "idiot" here, I'm keeping it PG.  There are other words I've been using on a regular basis of which I'm not proud.)


So, in a nut-shell: 

• I'm enjoying this pregnancy, but am even more aware of both how fragile it is and how many people there are still hurting and suffering through the loss and heartache of infertility.  
• I am not anxious to post on Facebook for various reasons, but don't want to rob DH of his joy in this, especially as we are not together to celebrate.  
• I have limited patience and am not very nice while being flooded with new hormones.

And finally, I am simply trying to figure out where I "fit" now in this realm of infertility.

If you're one who prays, please pray that I find that balance, to be able to still encourage and support those waiting on a BFP that results in them getting to hold and raise their living child; that I will feel the freedom to enjoy this pregnancy fully without fear, without apprehension, and without guilt; and that I will not punch people in the face or cuss them out (as is often how I imagine my response), but that I would instead extend grace and even educate people along the way (you can pray that that "education" would involve a lesson in humility on their part if needed...that I'm okay with) ;-)

May the God of the universe hear and respond positively to each of you in the cries of your hearts and give you strength, and may he help me know when to laugh and dance as well as weep and mourn!

~Julia

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