A New Thing

Several years ago, I finally noticed that my life was not what it should be. I was depressed and I needed help. I wish I had had a better idea of what warning signs to look for, but I didn't. I thought I was fine. Seriously, I should have known that it wasn't ok to have mornings where it was hard to get out of bed. Where I needed to call Boy to help me put my underwear on. I just thought I was letting myself be overly dramatic, that really, I could do it, if I just made myself. I should have known that it wasn't ok to be getting upset every time Boy came home from work, and less ok that at one point I wanted to scream, "Could you please just stop breathing?!" because everything he did, even how he breathed, was irritating me. I just thought that I was hormonal, going through a rough patch in our marriage, whatever. The realization point for me was one morning while getting ready for work. I knocked the cats water dish with my foot and soaked down my sock. Annoying, but you just go change them, right? Nope. I broke down. Sat on the floor and bawled. Finally, my head said, "This is not ok. A wet sock shouldn't destroy you. Something is wrong." I met with my doctor and after a few hits and misses, found anti-depressants that helped me feel normal again. I used them for two years, and then slowly weaned off through much ups and downs as my body readjusted, eventually taking over and doing the job on it's own.
Ever since then, I've been terrified of heading down that path again. It stole my joy and my life. Turned my marriage into a burden. Took all my usefulness and made me nonfunctional. Every time I have a few bad days, it scares me. If things are feeling grimmer than usual, it scares me. If Boy feels especially irritating, it scares me. I know I struggled with depression as a teenager, hormones I suppose, and this deeper bout with depression was brought on by hormone imbalances (birth control pills) and stress. Now, I will never do the pill again, but guess who's life has been full of stress for quite a while now? Yeah, mine.
Boy has been looking for work longer than he's been out of work, and that's been since November. I don't know if any other hiring process is quite so stressful as within the church. I think they have more steps than other hiring processes and the waiting in between each step is often at least a month. So we are talking 5-6 months for the entire search to hire, or at least a month to find out if you've been rejected right off the bat. And the rest of your life in the meantime? It's on hold. You don't want to make any major decisions, commitments, or changes because you don't know what your life will be like in a few months. You don't know where you will be living, or how much income you will have, or if you will still be on hold. It's a sucky way to live.
The past year has also been full of dealing with, well mostly waiting on, doctors and hoping/fighting/despairing over trying to find answers as to why I've had so many miscarriages. Either one of these big things is a lot of stress. Together they are immense and overwhelming. Throw in a bad habit of going to bed late, with a little one whose struggled with his sleep this summer, resulting in some serious sleep shortage and we have a cocktail for disaster.
A few days ago I sat down with Boy to tell him how I'd been feeling. I was worried and scared. It seemed like I was spending a lot of time irritated with him and I was pretty sure it was me, not him or our marriage (although I'm not sure spending almost every second together for the past nine months has been that great for us. We love sharing everything and being together a lot, but we never have a chance to miss each other.) Also, I thought that I maybe wasn't being happy very often. I ended up breaking down, totally freaked out that I was headed towards depression and needing medication. He tried to calm me and said it wasn't that bad. He'd help me keep an eye on it, but I was doing ok. He prayed with me and for me, and I prayed. In praying many of the burdens and pain I've been carrying for years came out. My spirit touched again by Emerging Mummy and led by the heart of a child, I poured out that my heart was full of bitterness and cynicism and irritation, and I didn't want it anymore. I was tired of carrying it around. Despite the "coolness" of being a cynical Christian, and of being wary of emotional spiritual displays,and being too cool to be one of "those" ("Isn't Jesus great?!!") Christians, I didn't want it anymore. I was tired and broken and done. I wanted my heart to be full of him, and full of love, peace, and the joy he promises. I called and he answered. Somehow I felt freer, happier, and more alive. I also felt more connected to my husband than I had in months. Things weren't perfect. I knew I wasn't perfectly healed or over all I'd been feeling, but I knew he had heard me.
The next day I felt like nothing had changed. I was frustrated, irritated, and breaking down again. I felt dragged under, like things were actually worse than before. Talked with Boy and felt myself falling apart. "Where is he? Why can't I have the joy so many others have? Seriously. I can understand him not healing every cancer patient ever prayed for, not saving each baby I lost, not protecting every person from sickness or death, but when it comes to spiritual healing, why wouldn't he give that as soon as it was asked for? Isn't that what he wants most of all? Isn't that what Christ is all about? Why? Why can't I just have joy? Why would he deny that?" I don't remember all he said, but I remember his face and him voicing his fears that I would just give up. There have been many times I've struggled with believing God was really real, mainly because of wondering where the peace and joy were. I know that's not what I want. From the depths of my soul came, "I will not give up. I choose Christ. I choose joy." He promises these things and I will not give up until I have them. I will pursue them until they are mine.
There is no explanation for how this has happened, but these past few days have held more joy for me than the past year did. I've had moments of overwhelming, bubbling out of me, had to giggle out loud, joy. I've been more connected with my husband than I have been in months. I've initiated more kisses with him, than several previous weeks combined. Last night, we actually played together, wrestling and teasing like little kids. I can't remember that last time we did that. It's not been all sunshine and roses. There are times when the fear consumes me and I worry that none of it is real, I'm going down again, where is God and joy? There are times when I'm so irritated and frustrated I could cry. There are times when the cynicism takes hold and I think, "There is no way this job for Boy will work out. This doctor won't be able to help me, just like the others. This all has just been fleeting hope, and I will just be back where I started, wondering where God and his promises come into my life." But, I am finding ways to connect. I'm realizing how much I need quiet time, with no chance of distraction, times to walk alone and sit at the water, and be overwhelmed by God's Spirit. Each day is still a struggle, but if each has moments of joy, I am beginning to heal; to be a whole functioning person again, instead of pieces scattered on the floor. My heart has been a wasteland, but he is doing a new thing.
I choose Joy.
Isaiah 43: 18-19:
“See, I am doing a new thing! 
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? 
I am making a way in the desert 
and streams in the wasteland.”


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Disclaimer - Depression and faith have a very real connection, but in NO way do I think that if you are depressed it's because of lack of faith. My faith could not save me when I experienced long term depression before, and I am very grateful that anti-depressants were available. Depression is a condition that can eat your soul from the inside out, but it's also a medical problem. Sometimes faith can carry us through and I have seen God heal those struggling with it. Sometimes it can be managed with a good diet, sunshine, and exercise. Sometimes you need counselling. Sometimes medication is needed. More often than not, it's a combo of these things. If you think you may be depressed, please talk with your doctor or counselor. They can help you come up with what will work for you. Please don't suffer alone trying to ignore it, or "just get by." I am still trying to keep an eye on how I am doing, and am constantly reevaluating if this is just a blue period where I seriously need more sleep and less stress, or if it is pointing to a greater problem.

Still Standing Still (as my heart aches)

Exactly two months ago, we finally got in to see a gynecologist. The plan was to ask for testing to see if we could find a reason that I have five miscarriages. It didn't go how we hoped. We did the month of cycle monitoring, and then had to wait another two weeks for a follow up. That was today. The result - pretty much the same thing that went through at the first appointment - only less professional.
He came into the room, told my son to get off the "couch" and told me I had to sit there. Um, there's a reason I'm not up there already. I hate sitting up there. It makes me feel like a child. It makes me feel more vulnerable and less like a person with rights. We're already a bit crappy at speaking up for ourselves, so we shuffle around to our "appropriate" seats. I'm really not sure why this is an issue since Bug sat up there last time, and I definitely did not. But, maybe it has something to do with the young man standing in the corner, who we haven't been introduces to. I have to only assume he's a student doing some shadowing, since I get a glimpse of a McMaster badge hanging around his neck. Now, I have nothing against a student being in this appointment, but surely it would only be common courtesy to introduce him and make sure we are comfortable with his presence. Whatever.
He asks me how I am, what can he do for me?
"Um, I would like some testing, please?"
"Well, I see you are not pregnant."
No kidding. Didn't we have this conversation already? I'm not going to try until we can rule out causes of the miscarriages.
We are interrupted by his yelling at my son to sit down. Excuse me? Where exactly do you get off? Boy politely asks him if he having a bad day, because really he wasn't like this last time. He says no he's not, but this isn't the place for tots. He should be in the waiting room and not getting into my things. You mean the completely sealed package we immediate took away and move him away from? I try to explain that I need my husband with me and we haven't got anyone to leave Bug with, so here he is. He dismisses the issue.
We return to the frustrating circular conversation about whether or not he can do some tests for us. One moment it seems like he can, the next not. Essentially he says he has to have proof to report to the government on why he's ordering the tests. Without proof, he can't order them. There are no miscarriages and no reasons to do testing.
He says if we are "afraid" to get pregnant, that that is a different matter and we can check that everything is ok. What does that mean? What's the difference? At the end he tells us he can give us a referral for genetic testing "on patient request." (What does that mean? It won't be covered?) We accept it, cause it's all we've got right now, but it's not enough.
I'm looking at a clinic in Toronto, and so far it sounds ok - they have a specialist who is researching repeat pregnancy loss, but I'm so nervous that we will drive all the way down there, with hope for help, only to be told the same thing, "Sorry, nothing we can do without proof."
I was so anxious about this appointment for exactly this reason, and now it's staring me in the face. I'm still not moving forward. It took me ages to decide to do this, ages to get the appointment, and nothing. I have to start a new route somewhere and try to keep hoping someone will do tests without us obtaining more "proof."

God, I don't understand. Please, send us people who will help, and who will do so with compassion. Please let us be able to find some answers without having to first get "proof."

Lost In the Dark

Lately I've been feeling like I'm failing at everything, but especially at being a mama. I think it's probably tied into how miscarrying affects my feelings as a mother (not being able to protect them and take care of them = major mama failing), and also because being a mama is my biggest role right now. There are also so many other stressors in my life right now, that so little energy is left for this role. I find myself short on patience and ideas and energy. I'm snapping more, saying "no" a lot, and giving so little time to this one that needs me. I feel like I'm forcing him all the time. Gently forcing, but forcing none the less. I can't figure out how to teach and guide and convince him to do the things that need to be done - like eat and sleep and tidy - without just saying, "You have to. I'm sorry you don't want to, but this is what we're doing," which wouldn't be so horrible if it didn't turn into a fight half the time. I don't like to physically struggle with my son to get his diaper and pajamas on, and constantly bring him back to the bed crying, because he doesn't want to sleep, he wants to play; or tell him again and again, "Eat. Eat. EAT. It's supper time. You need to eat," and then deal with him saying at bedtime, "I'm hungry," and knowing that it might very well be true, because he didn't actually eat that much at supper, but now he really needs to sleep, and if I let him eat, he'll end up being overtired and not sleeping very well, except if he really is hungry he won't sleep well either. (ahhh! deep breath)
Anyways, I'm super struggling with the whole discipline (as in teaching, not as in punishing) thing, and I'm not really sure how to figure it out. I'm frequently drawn to the "let your child express themselves/be their own person/work with, not against" style of parenting, but occasionally it does seem to go too far or have a very humanist view point. I very much want my parenting to be Biblically sound (not in the "you must spank you child" kind of way, cause I really don't think it says that), to honor God, and to teach my son just how much God loves him, but I can't figure out what that all means or how to do that. So I have these two ideas about parenting that I think should mesh, but no idea how do either one, let alone put them together. My lack of energy and patience is not helping.
I feel like I'm hunting for gold, except I only have this vague idea of what a mine is, I've never heard of a pick-axe, and my headlight is on backwards. As I search through this semi-darkness, stumbling around, I can only hope I'll do more good than harm, and perhaps someone who's been this way will pass by and offer a helping hand.

On Failing and Contenment

Finding myself struggling today. I've actually been struggling for a while now with feelings of failure. I think it's pretty common with those that have trouble carrying a child. Not being able to carry out this basic, intrinsic function can leave a women feeling less than, and incomplete, and not enough, and well, broken. It does a pretty good job on your self-esteem, often causing this feeling to flow out into other aspects of your life, and can make a gal feel like she's just not good at anything and is constantly failing. Well, at least that's my experience anyway.
I've been feeling like I'm failing as a wife, a mother, a home maker, and well, just being me and taking care of myself. So many days are made up of randomness, disorganization, and problems. We started this family schedule, but have we managed to actually make it through a day on the schedule? Maybe once. I'm gaining weight, not getting the exercise I want, and spending far too much time online. Boy is supposed to have time to work on some writing he is doing, but it's constantly being overrun by the family things that don't end up staying in their scheduled place. Bug is not eating well enough and spending far too much time watching television, which I can see in his whining and inability to imagine something that's not from his favorite show. Wow. Just writing this out is making me feel terrible. Of course, that's probably also partly due to the fact that it's twenty to twelve and I'm still up instead of in bed, where I should have been about two hours ago, since I am so short on sleep (therefore also everything else) lately. To sum up - I've been very miserable lately and feeling like I'm not good enough at anything.
In reading some posts by Emerging Mummy (If you aren't reading her, you should be. Her writing is beautiful and inspiring.) like this one, I've been realizing that my life is seriously missing some joy and contentment. I am certainly not happy right now. Here's the part I'm struggling with today - scripture tells us learning to be content is important, but I'm pretty sure how we are currently living is not very God honoring. How do I have contentment and welcome joy in, while realizing there are things in my life that need improvement, especially when considering trying to fix most of these things is incredibly daunting (like so overwhelming it keeps me from moving daunting)? How do I strive for a higher goal while still being content with how things are? I know I need the peace of contentment, but I also know that things can't go on as they are and changes need to be made. I'm currently so messed up inside, and this internal struggle and lack of answers is making my brain feel like it's bouncing around in my skull trying to get out. (It makes you understand why little kids have temper tantrums, because I'm getting closer and closer to wanting to throw things.)
The best I have tonight is the very real situation that I need far more sleep than I'm getting. First step - go to bed on time! Second step - seek God. That's all I've got. I need to find some way to make sense of this all, and they say he has the answers. Of course, even that seems daunting right now, and I'm really afraid that I'm going to fail at that too. Trying to make daily time for God has been difficult for several years, and I can't figure out how to make it work.
Somebody pray for me.

Sometimes Caring is Not Sharing

Do you have one of those people in your life that truly cares, but always seem to have the wrong concerns? I do. She's sweet - sometimes overly so, but at best I can tell, it's not fake. She's soft spoken and gentle, but manages to rub me the wrong time and again.
This morning she asked how I was doing and so I told her about our weekend, and poor Nod, how he got hit by a car, has a broken pelvis, missing teeth, paralyzed tail. How surgery would be $5000 and not a guarantee of anything any ways. How we're keeping him crated, letting him heal, anxiously keeping an eye on his intake and output. How it looked like a long hard recovery, but that he was doing well and showing good signs. (We are actually a bit nervous today, because he needs to pee twice a day, but hasn't since last night - he's shown he can, but if he keeps it in, he'll get an infection.) 

So, I shared all this with her, and then listened in some shock as she went on this little trail about how it's so difficult to let them go, hard to judge their quality of life, hard to balance between their peace with God and wanting their presence with us. ?!?!?!? Are you trying to tell me I should put my cat down?! What the heck?! I think I just sort of nodded in shock and moved away when there was an appropriate time.
She is also the one who told me, with oh so much concern, that I shouldn't let Bug sleep with me, he'd never learn to sleep on his own, he'd have so much trouble being independent; and told Boy that we really shouldn't let Bug go without shoes, it was dangerous and hazardous, and he would catch MRSA, and die. (she didn't actually say die, but...) She also told me about a fertility clinic that a daughter of a friend went to, and wasn't it a a great clinic, and I should look into it, and - next week - here's a print off from their website (cause maybe I don't know how to use the internet...?) Cause apparently I really need to do this (despite the fact that I told her I didn't want to travel to Toronto right now, I was going to stick with my doc, but thank you). Bleh.
Later, she came to let me know that she put Nod on the prayer list for the morning. She really does care, but gosh, it's so unhelpful.

Friends Are Friends Forever

I <3 Twitter. I've learned the twtspk (a lot of it anyway). Figured out how to share pictures. Followed hashtags. Made up hashtags. Joined Twitter chats. And made connections. I've been on there for about nine months now and I've met so many amazing people. I don't know what it is about Twitter, but the community on there is pretty fantastic. I suppose it's not the same for everyone, but that's been my experience, and it seems to be the experience of most of my "tweeps." The majority of the gals I know (and yes, they are basically all girls, with the exception of Boy, and a fellow barefooter I follow - who I may just drop [sorry] because he doesn't tend to respond when I tweet him, oh - and a couple of "famous" folk I especially enjoy) any ways... the gals are mostly "members" of the infertility community and they continually come around each other to support and encourage in whatever stage they are at, whether it be the infamous "two week wait," starting a new procedure, dealing with a "BFN" (big fat negative pregnancy test), going through a miscarriage, or, wonder of wonders, celebrating a "BFP" (positive test).

Yesterday, we realized that many of us have another thing in common - lack of close friends in the places where we live. We chatted and dreamed about living in a community all together, bringing these friendships in closer and being able to support each other in person (grow a garden, raise some chickens, keep a cow - there was also mention of flowers, a tractor and booze - we're all set!). It's a pipe dream, but I was humbled and honored that they all wanted to include me. It's so nice to be liked and wanted, you know?

Unfortunately, it got me wondering - would they continue to like me so much if they met me in person? I don't have a great friend history. I've always had a hard time making friends, and occasionally the people I thought were friends, really didn't care all that much about me. I've struggled for a lot of my life with feeling like people would really rather not have me around, like I annoy them. I've had very few truly trusted friends over my life - actually I can count them on one hand - and I don't have any here and now.* I don't really understand it, but it makes me wonder - would they still like me if they met me?
I like bubbly, energetic people, but they are usually not drawn to me. I'm sort of shy, and don't often say a lot, except when I say too much.  I am a perfectionist, and it tends to make me overly critical. The bad things stand out to me so much more than the good things. I can find the bad in anything. I have an overly strong urge to correct, which I am slowly learning to temper. I am too sensitive and it's not unusual for me to be emotional. I can usually control my words, but my facial expressions are another thing. I don't change directions or plans easily and I NEED to know everything that is going on. I procrastinate terribly, and I think of all sorts of lovely things to do for others, but rarely actually do them. I want to, but I'm bad at making myself actually do it, and I get nervous. I don't have a lot of guts. I'm always afraid of what other people think and how they will respond to me. I have the hardest time approaching people I don't know really well about almost anything - to say "hi," offer help, ask a question. I tend to be an observer and not a participator. On Twitter it would be so easy for me to sit back and just read, interacting only occasionally. Sometimes, I have to push myself to respond, to put myself out there, to share my thoughts, to encourage, support, and love. It's totally worth it, but it doesn't always come easily to me. Plus, I'm always afraid I'll say the wrong thing. (And apparently I have self esteem issues.)
And, in this community I wonder how I would fit -with my beautiful little boy, and my ability to get pregnant (although not stay pregnant). Would having me around be hard? Would they resent that I had a son with no difficulties? Would they be ok meeting me along as he wasn't there? Would I be an outsider because I have responsibilities to take care of him, and not the freedom to whatever, whenever?
I hope that we would still be friends in real life. I have great appreciation for all of these ladies and the love they show one another, they way they share their lives, their pain, sorrow, and joy. I hope that they would see in person the same things they see on Twitter - the love I want to give, the kindness I want to show, the heart I try to reveal. I love to laugh and dance and sing. I have a good sense of humor, even if it's often a little sarcastic. I'm loyal to a fault and quick to forgive. I'm honest and trustworthy. I value my friends and have a heart of generosity towards them. I have a gentle heart and hate to see anyone in pain.  I cherish my friends and always try to treat them the way I would want to be treated.
I would love to meet some of the online friends I have made - infertile community or not - and I hope it would just strengthen our relationships, bringing us closer together.

*I do have a few dear friends who are still dear to me, but we've grown (moved) apart a bit and don't talk as often as we'd like.


By the way - bonus points for anyone who can tell me what song that title is from.

Finishing New York

(This is a post I began while we were still in New York. I'm going to try to complete the thoughts.)
It's been a long day again today. We didn't sleep very well last night. The single king sized bed (eta - when rearranging the bed for our second night, we realized that this "king" bed was about a foot shorter than our "king" bed at home. No wonder it felt so small) didn't really fit the three of us and Boy ended up spending a large part of the night on the floor. We were also so overtired by the time that we made it there that we had trouble falling asleep. So we weren't really ready to get up when Dune started bouncing on us at seven. So began our first full day with Boy's parents.

It was a very bouncy bed!

A little background - I love Boy's parents. I know they love us. But, it's like they are from a different culture. We simply don't speak the same language and even simple gestures have entirely meanings to each of us. They really don't get why we choose to go barefoot, that Dune and I can't eat milk products, why we prefer to avoid chemicals, the way we parent, and more personally - our personal expressions (eg. tattoos, no suits, despite the the fact that Boy is a pastor), and my very particular taste in food.
I fall into the picky eater category, and I know some people (like the IL's) see me as just being difficult, but it's really not that. It's truly difficult for me to eat other foods. I try occasionally. As I've gotten older, I've pushed myself to try things that weren't on my "normally eat" list and some things that were way beyond that (food is not supposed to be foamy and green. I don't care.) But, when it comes down to it, there just isn't a huge list of foods I enjoy eating, and that list got significantly smaller when I took dairy out of my diet. I know that this makes life difficult for others (try having me over for supper), and I always feel horrible about that, but there are times when I would truly prefer to go hungry than eat certain things. Not too long ago I read an article about highly sensitive kids that made me realize my food preferences were part of my sensitive nature, that it was actually "normal" for me. It doesn't really make life any easier, especially when dealing with people who see it as more of a character flaw, but it was like this little feeling of freedom to learn that.
So, mealtimes were stressful, not at all helped by the fact that Bug has a habit of taking off his shoes the moment he enters a building. (oh no, barefeet! how horrible! whatever shall we do?!) Activities had stressful moments since we all had different ideas on how and when to do things. And, 75% of all interactions involving Bug were stressful. Please don't ask my son what he wants to do if we aren't actually going to do it. If you want him to answer a question, give him a moment to think and respond, don't just keep rephrasing the question every two seconds. Don't tell him something might happen that you know won't. Don't say, "maybe there'll be pony rides" when it's highly unlikely. Don't tell him, "tomorrow we'll do this exciting thing," he doesn't understand tomorrow yet.  And, above all, DON'T step over my parenting/discipline and do things your way. If I am right here handling the situation, you don't get to step in. Bleh. I'm getting tense just thinking about it, and it was weeks ago.
I hate conflict, so we never actually addressed most of these issues (Boy touched on the outright lying to Bug), we just tried to parent around them. I don't really know what was the best way to handle it, although if there had been more than two times they overrode my parenting, we would have had that discussion, because even once is really not okay.  We will have to see what happens when we get together in the summer...
Bug enjoyed most of the trip - seeing the dinosaurs, playing at the Children's Museum, watching the polar bears at the zoo, enjoying his first hockey game on tv (how do I have a sports child?), but at the same time he wasn't so sure about this staying in a hotel room business and asked at least once a day to go home.
Of course, the whole point of this trip was a stressful one. I don't think I ever mentioned, but we went to NY to meet the IL's because my father in law was there to do some testing at Slone-Kettering's cancer center. He has melanoma that has spread to his lymph nodes and liver. His current treatment is chemo, but it generally has very little effect on this type of cancer. If he qualifies (and he does, we just found out today!), he will be able to receive a new drug that is just finishing it's trial phase. It's likely not a cure, but would make life better and longer for him. So having this test and result hanging over everyone added to the stress of the occasion. (one of the reasons we didn't make a bigger deal out of their frustrating interactions with Bug)
Good points - I got to see New York! Far from all of it of course, but I saw the Empire State Building out my window, Central Park and the zoo, the American Museum of Natural History,

impressive stores like Tiffany's and Saks, famous sites such as Rockefeller Plaza and The Plaza Hotel, and well known streets like Broadway and Madison Avenue.

One of these days I'm going to actually make an online album of all the pictures!
So the great things helped balance out the stress, but this experience took a lot out of us. It took us almost a week to prepare for the five day trip, and about a week and a half to de-stress and re-energize. I'm glad I had a chance to see this famous city, but we were all so glad to be on the train home.

Step One

I'm not sure I even know where to start right now. It's been a very rough couple of weeks. The trip to New York was so stressful and took ages to recover from. Then, over Mother's Day I got sick, which passed to Bug (his first time really being sick, and it made us all miserable), which then passed onto Boy, who was sick for ages. Nobody was getting enough sleep and we were trying to take care of each other - it was a horrible week. I felt like I was never going to get my energy back and be in a decent mood again.
Finally, I began to regain some balance (it really is amazing what just weeding a patch of land can do),

what happens when you do yard work barefoot

and I had to begin to prepare for my appointment with Dr. O - the OB/GYN my family doctor had given me a referral to. When? Oh, back in January. Yes, he had a four month waiting list. So maybe I should have been prepared earlier, but really, I just prefer not to deal with stressful things until I have to. Plus, there have been so many other things going on, that I just felt like I couldn't deal with this yet.
So, at the end of last week, I sat down and wrote out my whole story, and I mean the whole thing. From the beginning of always having very crappy periods, to my first miscarriage, my endometriosis diagnosis, my healthy pregnancy, my easy periods after pregnancy, my next four losses, my trial with progesterone cream, my ovulation pain, and finally, my increasingly worse periods, again. I marked down all the important dates, listed specific questions I wanted to know about any test we might do, tried to gather info on what tests might be good to start with or might have not have heard of yet, and did my best to not be anxious about the meeting. It was just to talk after all.
Bah. So how many of you are thinking, "Well, that was a waste of your time?" Cause you'd be right. Any of you who aren't thinking that, can I have your doctor, please? I really wanted a chance just to tell my whole story, because I know it's all connected. I wanted a doctor who I knew was really listening to me and taking into consideration all I have experienced and learned. I'm not entirely sure such a doctor exists.
It went sort of how I actually expected it to. He asked a handful of questions - how many times have I been pregnant, how far along were the miscarriages, when did they happen, and oh - did I have any proof? Because apparently, if I don't have medical records to back up my statements, they might not actually be valid. My four pregnancies that are based only on HPTs might have been false positives. (What?! Am I just that clueless? Cause really I thought it was incredibly difficult to get a false positive. Like, you had to be intentionally adding certain hormones to your body...?) He was calm and professional throughout and not quite as horrible as he sounds, but it's not possible to nicely say, "Your babies, whom you deeply grieved, might have been imaginary." He then tried to explain that it was possible that despite my monthly ovulation pain and bleeding every twenty-eight days, that I might not be ovulating and having regular cycles. So, he wants to monitor my cycle for a month (or three to six) - do blood work and ultrasounds through my cycle to see what my ovaries and hormones are doing. Hopefully, one month will tell him what I already know, cause there is no way I'm waiting several months to even talk testing. Especially since he tells us that having five miscarriages would put me in a "high risk" group that would likely need to do chromosome testing - something that takes three to four months to get the results. Ugh. I knew this was going to be hard, but this is even more than I was expecting.
Somewhere in there, his words made me begin to wonder if he was going to have me try to get pregnant so that he could see what happens. I'm really hoping that was just my perception, because I really can't handle that. I can't do this again without a plan, without an idea of why my babies are not staying alive. Even if he doesn't think I've had five miscarriages, my heart knows, and it can't handle another attempt without hope for a different outcome.
Before we left the office, we sent up contact info and blood work dates with his administrator. She was happy to inform me that doing the ultrasounds would let me know the best time for "trying." Um, honey, I know when to try. Trying isn't the problem. Getting pregnant isn't the problem, staying pregnant is. "We won't be trying these months."
"How come?"
"From my perspective (notice that I, at least vocally, give allowance that they could be right), I've had five miscarriages, and I just can't do that right now."
"You might not have."
Slam, bam, thank you mam. I think I'll just go home and cry now.

(Giant SIGH) At home, totally drained, I try to work some of this out, sharing it with a few who care about me. Out of their love and caring, three separate people let me know I need to find a new doctor PRONTO. I get this. I would likely give the same advice to anyone in this experience, who also had a different medical system. I don't feel like I have many options. In order to see a new doctor, I would have to go back to my family doctor and get another referral, which would most likely take another three to six month wait for an actual appointment, and no guarantee that they wouldn't say the same things. While writing this post, I actually looked up fertility clinics in Ontario (the closest of which is about an hour and a half away). I would still need a doctors referral, but they say they try to see clients within two weeks of that, which would be great, but - their initial task is to do a month or more of... monitoring! So I wouldn't be in a much different position. Plus, their site makes it sound like all blood work, ultrasounds and other procedures have to be done in their clinic, requiring several trips a month to the city (with a three year old - or at least almost three!). So, I'm sticking with this and hoping I'm not making the wrong decision. I do feel a little bit better knowing that the top docs will do the same monitoring. I feel less disregarded knowing that.
I have been praying about this, and will continue to do so, trying to trust that God leads our path even now. Hoping that he will make sure we are with the right doctor and will receive the right tests and treatments. God, give me wisdom to make the right decisions, to take care of myself and my health, and grant me trust in your provision.

New York, New York – Here We Are

So as we neared the end of our many long hours on a train, Bug began to reach the end of his amazing patience. He was becoming just too antsy to stay in his seat. Really, he did remarkably well. He'd been on the train for eight hours and now he just wanted to move around, at least be in a new spot. It was a bit difficult that the new spot he chose was the middle of the aisle, but we just did our best to make sure he moved before someone was trying to get by.

When we finally got off the train, we were so eager to get outside. Bug wanted to ride in the stroller (being ready to fall asleep) and no one was thrilled to find we had three flights up to ground level. Sunshine at last! After some finagling with luggage and which direction to go, we began our walk to the hotel.
Made it to the hotel, and first disappointment - our room is on the third floor. Second - there is no such thing as away from the elevator. Third - this room is half the size of our bedroom, and the tub is half the size of our tub. No robes, no room service, no chair to sit in. Poo. I won't (well, maybe) complain too much since we aren't paying for the room and I know how much it costs. :o But really, it was difficult to realize that a large portion of our time will be contained by this room. Bug goes to bed about 6-6:30 each night, meaning we are here with him after that. It will be interesting to see how this plays out. I may be blogging a lot more this week. :P
Bug was asleep before we'd passed a few minutes walking, and stayed out like a light until we tried to change him at the hotel. Some nursing and he was out again.

 He's already woken once since then, so I'm wondering if the poor eating habits, and over-tiredness will make this a frequent wake night. I guess we shall see. I'm also worried about the bed. It's king size, but at home we have a king and a crib pushed next to it, so when Bug wants his own space, it's not an issue. I'm a very afraid that he will sleepily scootch over to "his bed" only to find himself fallen on the floor. Not cool. I really don't know what to do about it. Normally, I'd push the bed over to the wall, but the arrangement of this room doesn't allow for that. I have had one incident where he has fallen while we were sleeping in a strange bed, and it has made nervous about it happening again. Plus, there are these lovely built in nightstands that he will likely hit his head on on the way down. Those I will try to pad with pillows, but so far it's not working very well.

Alright, I'm so tired now, I've got to go to bed. We shall see how this goes. I can hear the never ending traffic and many conversations floating up to our window, and while I could happily people watch for ages, I don't really want them in my sleep.
Overall, It has  been interesting to mesh the really cool, "I'm in New York!," and look at the architecture on these buildings, and the street vendors, and the shops!, with the  fighting against the flow of people, dealing with so much second hand smoke, and the foreignness of the city.  So it's super cool, but I kind of hate it at the same time.

New York, New York – Here We Come

Ok, so if you have a better choice, don’t choose the wake your child at 2:45 am to drive for three hours and then get on a train for nine.  Unfortunately for us, this was the best choice. I’m so tired.

 Bug is doing remarkably well despite having asked several times to go home. He loved the novelty of getting up in the middle of the night, thank goodness – I was prepared to have to deal with a screaming toddler upset about being disturbed from his sleep and not being able to get his precious “sidey” to resettle him.  It did mean that he didn’t go back to sleep for an hour and then he slept only briefly. So he’s working on a deficit of about four hours - eight hours of sleep instead of his usual twelve – we are so going to run into problems later.

 He was also a big fan of seeing and getting on a train, even though he is getting bored with not having much freedom to move or climb. (He really wants to climb stuff. He’s climbing my arm and sitting on my shoulders as I write this.) We brought along some books, stickers, new activity books, and snacks to keep him entertained. He’s enjoying the occasional walk up and down the aisles with his Daddy, and hopefully that will be enough activity until we can get off.

 So far, I think we are doing pretty well for traveling with a toddler. Only one meltdown when I flushed the strange train toilet instead of him (apparently the whole car could hear his piercing scream, lovely), and a few moments of frustration. He’s generally calm, coming to me to nurse when he wants some quiet time. I am feeling pretty comfortable with nursing him here, whether it’s the privacy the seats afford or the knowledge of how much he’ll need it, I’m not sure, but he’ll have his sidey whenever he needs it.  

We are now half way through the train ride, and I’m grateful for how well things have gone. Happy early morning wake, non-crying car ride, easy border crossing, arrived for the train early, and a reasonably content Bug. Also, a previously very stressed Boy has calmed considerably is working to make this ride as easy for me as possible. I’m sure that all the people I asked to pray are doing so. Trips are never this smooth for us.