Excused Absence

it's been awhile with no word from this wifey.

apologies. 

settling in a new home and location is hard work. it's a job that i'm still plugging away at, but i can now see light at the end of the tunnel. there have been new friends, play dates, doctor visits, family walks, church callings and teaching, schedule switch-a-roos, colds, teething, lots of carne asada eating, baking, late nights, developmental milestones, phone calls to california, surfing, road trips, crazy thunderstorms, and falling in love with a new album by a favorite artist. as you can see we've been a little busy. 

in the midst of this a stranger showed up unannounced. at first it was quiet and subtle. then it grew noticeable but was kept in a corner, like a pile of papers waiting to be filed. suddenly it required my full attention. i was prepared for post-partum depression to hit but not this late, and not in this way. it has caused such a disturbance that it's hard to function some days. functioning as a mom has been no problem. but functioning as a wife, friend, sister, daughter? yikes. 

on side, but relevant, note: honestly... i took starting solid foods with birdie very, very hard. part of it i blame on post-partum, another part i blame on having to go through infertility, and the other part i blame on social pressures of being a mom. (and a new one at that!) d and i waited and waited for so stinkin' long to become parents that starting the solid-food milestone is just a tangible reminder- and a strong one- that her babyhood is quickly fading. pressure from outside sources to get her to eat three solid food meals a day seems, to me, intrusive and ..... commercial....? in the end- one la leche league meeting reassured my fears. so, while we'll sloooowly continue with solid foods but not make in a huge focus while she's still under a year old. 

for now my postings will slow down a little until i can get a better grip on this post-partum business. i have a few scheduled posts/ photo dumps that will appear next week in my absence. and despite all of this murkiness there have been so many bright, sunny spots. sweetness between our little trio, or with new friends, have made me stop and relish the moment. the following pictures are proof of that. 

1. a walk with mama and dog-dogs

2. all fancy-faced for church

3. weeeeeeee

4. my two best girls

5. lovin' our huge backyard 

6. one tooth... two tooth... and now we're on to our third

7. a very, very, very late night bath

8. a face i could eat up

9. less than a week away from being a 7-month-old

This Time

E, C and I in Yosemite around this time last year. 

This time last year... I broke down emotionally during dinner with my mom at a restaurant. It was hard to watch my mom find words of comfort to make everything all better.

This time last year... I had a really fun visit with e and c. (pictured) And was secretly wishing they'd start dating.

This time last year... I had random, crazy reaction to a medication I've taken before.

This time last year... all of the hard work that d did was wiped away in one injury.

This time last year... I kept telling myself over and over and over that everything happens for a reason. (right?)

This time last year... we were getting ready to move back to Oregon.

This time last year... we were surprised (understatement) to learn that a little bird was soon to be on her way.


This time... I am the happiest I've probably ever been.

This time... I'm counting down the days until I get to see e and c again. (11 to go!) And I'm over the moon, tickled, thrilled that they're now married.

This time... all of d's hard work and sacrifice paid off in a huge way.

This time... all I can think about is how things happen for a reason, and someone else knows of a bigger plan than I do.

This time... we're starting to plan our move to our next station in Mobile, Alabama.

This time... I have an almost 3-month-old (what!?!) birdie sitting contently in my lap as I type this, chewing on her soft, chubby hands.


What a difference a year makes.

I'm One of the 7 Million

Did you know that this week is National Infertility Awareness Week? Don't worry- I didn't realize it until earlier this week... but it's true.

I've been mulling over posting about this for the past few days. I've given snippets, glimpses and snapshots of some of our infertility issues but, frankly, I've always kept it pretty darn discreet. It's hard to constantly put yourself out there to others and explain the situation for the 500 millionth time when all you want to do is run away to just curl up in a ball and cry and not talk about it.

If you have a moment please look up the word "infertility." I won't go on a tangent to describe how much I hate how a person/ couple could ever be labeled something that seems so final. (But know that I do) Some doctors give this label to couples who have tried for over a year to conceive with no luck. Some couples will be fortunate to shed that label... others won't. For those who are at the child-bearing age, over 7 million of those couples will experience some form of infertility: female, male, combined or unexplained.

In our situation the problem was me. We started trying within the first year we were married but got serious about it once D had a big boy job. After months of negative pregnancy tests, our first anniversary, an out-of-state move, a new OB, months and months and months of fertility drugs, getting D tested, and then a final month of different fertility drug it was suggested that I have a surgical procedure to explore any physical problems not showing up on ultrasounds. I was nervous, as it was my first time ever having surgery, but I was optimistic: "This is something they just HAVE to do to rule out x, y, and z... everything is really fine," is what I kept telling myself.

Wrong.

Really, really wrong.

That night I learned that I had Endometriosis. And not just a little bit, either. A lot... enough to throw me into the highest category- stage 4. The worst part(s)? There are three:

#1. I was told that I'd never have children naturally. IVF would be our only option.

And #2: I didn't hear this from my doctor or nurse. I had to hear this from my own husband. I sat there and watched my absolute best friend tell me the absolute worst thing I could ever hear.

And, finally, #3: I'll die with Endometriosis. I can never, ever, ever get rid of it because it's a progressive disease. Unfortunately I'm one that has the disease but doesn't show a lot tell-tale symptoms of it. The diagnosis was shocking as much as it felt like my own body was secretly betraying me.

The next year was the hardest. More doctors, more treatments, more procedures, more medications and the worst part... waiting. Just waiting.

Laura Bush, who has dealt with infertility herself, has said: "The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful and some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only "I'm sorry for your loss." But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?"

The bulk of 2011 felt like I was standing in a deep, deep hole looking up at everyone else passing me by. The hole was dark, lonely, and extremely scary. It was hard to breathe but the air that was available was laced with what Laura Bush describes above.

What I've revealed about my own personal journey with infertility above is where I'm going to stop. Most of it is still too painful and fresh to go there. The rest begins to fade into Birdie-girl's story... which is only hers to tell. But I want you to consider one thing: watch your words.

Watch.
Your.
Words. .... to anyone (anyone) that's of child-bearing age.

Resist the urge to ask others when they're planning on having children. (Or when they're planning on having more.) Just. Don't. Ask... no matter how good your intentions are or how nicely/ politely you word your question. It's not your business... EVER. For those who have never walked in our shoes you have no idea how hurtful and invasive that question is.

However, if you do know someone who is trying to expand their family and having some setbacks please consider, carefully, the following:

1. Don't tell them to relax. If all it took to get pregnant was to relax I'd have more children than the Octomom. I really feel like I should receive a medal for not punching people in the face whenever they told me, "Oh you just need to relax." Seriously. Not only does saying that dismiss a person's feelings and the situation but it actually causes more stress and anxiety... especially in women.

2. Don't minimize the problem. Don't tell a childless couple that you envy how they get to sleep in, be more spontaneous or have more time to themselves. It's not comforting. I know many a couple or woman who would sacrifice every luxury in their life for just a SHOT at becoming a parent.

3. Don't say there are worse things that could happen. Every person has at least one thing or situation that would be the absolute worst for them to deal with. For as many as 7 million couples infertility is one of them. What's the worst for one person may not be for another.

4. Don't say they aren't meant to be parents. To me this is just plain cruel, especially if a person/ couple shares their infertility issues openly. In my opinion this phrase is the word equivalent of being punched in the face. Infertility is not a punishment.

5. Don't ask why (or if or push for) they are/aren't trying IVF or adoption. There are couples that are open to both options to building a family, some that favor one over the other and others that don't have enough information to consider either. Don't taint their perception or thoughts about one alternative route over the other. Much like the act of conceiving a child naturally, both IVF and adoption are equally personal ways to create, or grow, a family. Also like conceiving naturally- adoption and IVF carry their own unique set of risks, highs and lows.

6. Don't be crude or gossip. It should go without saying but don't joke about infertility. It's rude and inappropriate to tease someone in a very vulnerable position.

7. Don't complain about your pregnancy. This was one that I hated the most. When you're dealing with your own personal infertility issues just being around those who are expecting or have kids is hard enough. Infertile's are trying their best to figure out how to function around these types of people in general. While we understand that pregnancy has discomforts and raising children is tough you should still never, ever vent your feelings to a person with infertility and expect them to comfort you. Again, I know many a person who'd give up every single thing to have a SHOT at a gaining a pregnancy stretch mark, or pull an all-nighter with a sick kiddo.

8. Let them know you care. While we only revealed to close friends and family what we were dealing with I so appreciated every text and phone call on days when I just had a simple blood test or shot. A simple "good luck today" or "thinking of you guys" or "you got this" goes a looooong way. (And to all those who did that I cannot thank you enough!) Or send a small gift to let them know you care: my cousin once sent me a beautiful card and meditation cd to let me know she was supportive. Did it cure everything? No. Not even close. But, I love her to death for the gesture and I enjoyed using what she sent.

9. Remember them on Mother's and Father's day. For me this was the worst day of the year. It was always the longest, hardest day to get through. Let them know they're not forgotten or ignored.

10. Support their decisions. Plain and simple. If you can't support them then don't say anything or politely excuse yourself from the conversation. The last thing infertile couples want to deal with is how to make everyone happy. Their happiness comes first over anyone else's.

D and I both know how extremely lucky we are to be able to drop the "infertility" label. How our little Birdie-girl finally made her way to us is equally a miracle as it is comical. Every day that I struggled with infertility I always tried to figure out why we had to go through this. To this day I still don't know. Was there a reason? Was it just a challenge that life hands you? Did we need to gain something? Who knows.

I do know that I will always silently cry for those who are struggling with infertility. I do know that I appreciate every kick I feel, every back ache, and every stretch mark. I do know the strength of my marriage to D. And... I do know how deep my love for our little girl goes.

Bruises

I mentioned in this previous post that it took D and I three years to conceive. That's a long time. Although, for me, it felt more like 1,095+ days. Looong days. It wasn't just 1,095+ days, either. It consisted of days being so consumed by the fact that it was taking a lot time, wasn't going to "plan," what-ifs, when do we draw the line, and the how far are we willing to pursue this? On top of that I majorly went through all stages of the grief cycle.

Yep... all 1,095+ days.

The time from September 2010 up until a couple months ago seemed to be the hardest. For the first time ever in my life I couldn't even be near a baby nonetheless look at one. There have been a couple times that I've had to drop everything and leave a store because I saw one while grocery shopping and just couldn't handle it. Even hearing one cry from across the store could trigger my anxiety level in .5 seconds.

And don't even get me started on baby showers.

Ingrained in my head was the idea that it things weren't working because I didn't deserve it. I know, I know- so not the case. It took medication and working with a counselor to retrain my brain to not feel that way. Then- ever so slowly- I took a huge leap and met up with a friend who had a little one. It was a success... a small one... but I'm glad I did it. I ripped the large band aid off and exposed my open wound.

Now that I am pregnant I've found myself in a strange place. Part of me is over the moon. Part of me is in disbelief... still. Part of me still feels the infertility bruises. I wasn't one who simply stopped birth control and was pregnant three months later. I had to work for this. Hard. The part that feels the bruises is worried that it could all be taken away as fast as it came. I feel as if this is the crappiest thing about infertility- in one way or another it never leaves you.

During those 1,095+ days I never allowed myself buy anything baby related if it wasn't a gift for someone else. In fact, the baby section was an area I frequently avoided in stores. Occasionally friends would hand me down a few things but 90% of the time I would end up donating the item. (Minus a couple things) I always thought that I would buy up a storm if we ever became pregnant. Well... at least something to commemorate the pregnancy. But, no. I've actually avoided it. I can look and browse but something has held me back from buying. That really bothered me.

Once again... I braced myself as I ripped off the band aid exposing a re-opened wound, hoping that the fresh air would do it some good. I popped into a local children's store and made my first purchase: a little cream snowsuit.

I hate that bruises of infertility may never fade away... but I also love how infertility has made me immensely grateful for the little one that is to come.

There Are No Real Words...(Especially)

...to describe seeing the following image:

Especially on a Saturday afternoon after unpacking your entire house. Especially on a whim. Especially when I had an extremely special dream about this type of thing two days before I tested. Especially since there was a reason why D got hurt and had to come home. Especially after three long, painful years of trying. Especially after being diagnosed with a progressive disease- one that I can never get rid of, was surprised to learn I had, and one that is one of the main causes of infertility. Especially since I had become used to saying the word "infertility"... a word that I despise. Especially since I went through six months of hell in the form of a shot, seven rounds of Clomid, two rounds of Femara, had surgery, and went through nine months of terrible depression/ therapy/ anti-depressants.

The whole previous paragraph was worth it after thirty seconds of the taking the test. All the stress, fear, anxiety, anger and sadness disappeared as D and I stared at each other, with disbelief, and said, "What do we do now!?" I would do it again. In a heartbeat.

I am a daughter by birth, a sister by blood, a wife by marriage and, now, a mother by God's grace.

Six weeks

Party's Over

Earlier this evening I was stalking browsing facebook and I found out some new information from a status update of a friend. Quite honestly the information stung me. Hard. It's interesting that information like this should still sting because, logically, I should be used to it by now.

Cue the pity party!

The next hour consisted of me preparing for the party, figuratively. I put up the decorations, filled the air with music, sprinkled the counter tops with finger foods and put on my best party dress. Then I waited for people to knock on the door even though I know people are not coming. Yet, I anxiously walk around the house asking myself what's taking people so long to arrive.

Then, somehow, I came upon more information about this friend's status update and I froze. Vaguely- there was no longer a reason for me to consumed by my pity. I ache for this person and hope I never have to deal with the same situation.

So. I turned off the party music. I carefully took down and packed away the decorations. The food was placed back in the fridge. I took off my party dress and threw it in the hamper. Finally, I turned off the porch light and locked the front door. The pity party was officially over.

While I'm enjoying a hot shower tonight I'll be reflecting upon the following words, that were spoken at the most recent Relief Society General Conference. I'm hoping that tomorrow's General Conference will give me more peace and comfort and that it will do the same for my aforementioned friend.

"...God is fully aware that you and I are not perfect... this drives us to create expectations for ourselves that are impossible to meet...everyone has strengths and weaknesses...it’s wonderful that you have strengths... and it is part of your mortal experience that you do have weaknesses... please remember also to be compassionate and patient with yourself..."

- Dieter F. Uchtdorf

15 Snippets

1. D had his last day at Cape D on May 27th. (Insert me having a huge sigh of relief from getting out of that hell hole... pardon my language.)

2. We went on vacation to SUNNY & WARM California! 

3. Drove the old Saturn into the ground... literally and figuratively... 
      .... 3 days before we had to drive 14 hours home. 

4. Bought a "new" car to make aforementioned drive home. Helloooooo car payment and strict budget! (And quick shout out to being *official* adults and having a dependable car.) 

5. D started training in the Airman Program to become a rescue swimmer. Better schedule plus new station plus cool training equals a happier D and Wifey. (And happy dog-dogs, too) 


6. Crashed new car. Had an awesome anxiety attack, awesome head injury, awesome ambulance ride, and created some awesome damage to the car and property. I'm THAT awesome. Extremely thankful for full-coverage insurance, friends that will drop everything to be with you, and accident forgiveness.

7. Celebrated our anniversaries: 7 years together and 3 years married!!! 


8. Celebrated D's birthday


9. Sadly, said goodbye to great friends that moved and said hello to creating new friendships. 


10. Because of number 6- I'm grateful for D's motorcycle. (That, my friends, will be the first and last time you will ever hear me say that!) 


11. Creating a new at-home routine while preparing to move in T-minus 4 months-ish... while remembering to not have tunnel vision in certain areas of our life. 

12. Kicked the addiction, working on crocheting a blanket, lost my L weight, evening walks with pup-pups, cooking more from scratch, couponing, and working on hair bows to sell in a SoCal boutique this fall. 


13. Became overly excited to watch our fish have more babies only to become traumatized by watching fellow a tank mate devour a baby fish viciously. VICIOUSLY!!! Resisted the urge to put the guilty fish in time-out. Also, somehow we have (at least) 5 new baby snails...? Hmmm... 


14. Insomnia is, slowly, getting better. 


15. Had my first two rolls film developed from my Diana F+. (See Facebook album) Very pleased with the results! 

That's all.... for now. 

 

Killing You Softly

Tonight* is no different from any other night. It's coming up upon midnight and I'm still awake, with a slim chance of falling asleep within the next hour. (Maybe even two hours) I know exactly why I have insomnia but that's a whole other blog post that will not be published anytime soon. 

Like I said- tonight is not different than any other night... true... but it dawned on me today that this is the sixth consecutive month that I've had to deal with insomnia. 


Six months. 

The first three months I stuck it out as best as I could. Don't get me wrong- it was really difficult. It's hard enough to try to calm yourself down, or to find a stopping point in your day, to get to a point where you're ready for bed. Then you wait... and wait... and wait. Then nothing. Nothing happens at all. 

The late night news comes on.... nothing. 


The block of re-runs starts... and nothing. 

Once I hit the "paid programming" hours I'm torn between lack-of-sleep frustration and the fact that, yes!, I do need a device that is a strainer AND colander in one. Dang it! My purse is in the car! 

Three months of sleeping in until 11am and scheduling my life later in the day became old fast. Insert Unisom. It works very well. The latter part of the last six months has been easier because of it. 


Prior to the past six months I never had insomnia. Sure, I've had some nights where I'm stuck counting sheep, but nothing that touched the beginnings of insomnia. While I was counting sheep my mind naturally starts to wander in and out of various thoughts. This is what I dislike most about insomnia- besides the not sleeping part- .....the fact that your mind doesn't turn off. At least for me. 



At this time of night all of the thoughts from the day flood my brain. "Did I say the right thing? Should I have handled ___ differently? Why did I forget dog food? What if __ happens? Will I remember to thaw out chicken breast in the morning or should I write myself a note? How long until ___ ... and what if ___?"

This picture hangs in our spare bedroom. It's by Michael Sieben- my (well, our) favorite artist. In addition to being a great, unique artist Michael is a pretty awesome guy. D bought this picture for me for my birthday awhile back. He even had it signed!. It's one of my most favorite things that he's ever given me.

The small head represents the thoughts that keep you up at night... they kill you. Slowly and softly. These past six months have been killing me ever so slowly and softly. The anxieties and worries contribute to the insomnia, and the insomnia cues the anxieties and worries.

Outsiders reading this post might be thinking, "Crap! What the heck has her so worked up?" To which I say, "Ha! Take a seat while I explain..." In all honesty the worries and anxieties have a more of a dull, quiet presence than a complete roadblock in my daily functions.

Will the insomnia ever end?

Yes.

Hopefully, yes.

The past week or so has been getting slightly better. Bedtime is coming in sights at 12am instead of 2 or 3 am. I've been dreaming more at night and have been able to recall bits and pieces of them the followling day. Instead of nesting myself on the couch I've been finding myself heading to the ACTUAL bed. Even reading for a little bit makes my eyelids heavy.

I know that insomnia will go away eventually. I also know that the anxieties and worries will still be hanging out, too. They just won't be sharing the couch with me while order a strainer AND colander at 3 am.
--

*I published this post the following day.

For the Invisible Ones

 Pics via google images

Today my thoughts are with the invisible ones. 

The ones who had, but lost... however the loss happened.

Those were born to be one but are still not.

Maybe, someday. 


Soon. 


Hopefully.

Those who desire so strongly that if one were to drain that desire from their blood they would wither away... like dust. 

This one is for the invisible ones who did everything they could to get through May 8th like it was just a normal day. 

I feel ya, girls. 

I was right there with you, too. 


Comments turned off. 

Rehab

We're outrageously slightly addicted to Safeway's artisan blueberry muffins. 

The picture of D above shows $25 worth of muffins. 

We seriously considered buying all of them. 

After a- literally- 10 minute discussion/ debate... 

... we left with one box. 

.

.

.

.

.

Okay, okay... two boxes. 

.

.

.

.

.

And someone might have gone back a few days later for another box.

.

.

.

.

.

... Alright so MAYBE it was two boxes. 

Let the Record Show

Today I'm putting on my big girl panties and dealing with it.

Well... at least talking awknowledging processing it.

Here's hoping that 2:00pm comes quickly today and that I maintain composure until then.

And that's all the information I'm willing to share.

(Hey I got to have some sort of control with an out-of-control, ongoing issue.)

Iceberg

Over the last few days I've been stalking reading other blogs as they do their last post/ recap of 2010. It got me thinking about what I would post if I were to follow suit. 

Obviously I made a decision on the "if" part since I am currently typing this up.

A few select people know that I don't blog about e-ver-y-thing. I'm not that blog that boasts heart-on-her-sleeve posts. I so admire those that do and often times I've considered turning that way. I guess I cannot because it's not who I really am. This blog is intended to keep family and friends updated on the doing's of the D & Wifey household. It's strictly the tip of the iceberg.  

2010's tip-of-the-iceberg included: 
- Maintaining new friendships
- Going out to lunch and dinner... a lot
- Exploring the area we live
- Adding a new member to our family (Ruca-roo) 
- Traveling to and hosting family and friends
- Getting settled a little more in our branch. (And a new calling, too!) 
- Cooking, baking, crafting, crocheting, and all things creative
- Rooting for the Packers games 
- D going surfing... a LOT! 
- Crazy, crazy, crazy weather

Etc, etc, etc. 

As mentioned above- there are a lot of things that I do not blog about. Things that are very personal and what I would consider beneath the surface. Many- if not all- will be listed in a very, very vague way, but I'm writing them as a way for me to remember all that happened if I ever decide to look back on this blog. 

2010's beneath the surface: 
- Faced two of my biggest fears
- Learned that family (in another state) will literally drop what they're doing to be with me 
- Watched more marriages end than begin
- Has never been more grateful for amazing health insurance
- Found out that I have friends that are willing to let me be crazy
- Certain shots still make me black out but others do not
- Found those who have walked the same path that I'm just starting on
- Was reminded just HOW strong my marriage to D is 
- Unwillingly joined two statistics for women... and will always be apart of them
- Out of those two statistics I'm a "rare" one
- Side effects suck
- Every day can be a complete struggle 
- Watched D tell me serious news that I never wanted to hear... and thought he was joking. 

Yes, 2010 was a tough, tough year. Here's hoping that 2011 holds more up's than down's, more waves for D to surf, more Mexican food than I know what to do with, and laughs and good times with our family and friends. 

Two Sisters

Faith walks before me, 
Holding up her lamp
As I try not to stumble in the ink-dark hours before the dawn. 
Her light illuminates 
One step and then another. 
Beside me, Hope, arm linked with mine, encourages and steadies
Sometimes in the tedium, 
Distracted by the pain, 
My mind begins to wander, then my feet. I hesitate. 
Unsure, I look to Hope. 
Her hand takes mine. 
The touch reminds me of another hand held out to me, 
One pierced and scarred
Yet oh so tender
Lifting me and blessing me when I had fallen and despaired. 
Remembering, 
I move ahead
Buoyed up by Hope, who sees the end with perfect clarity. 


By: Larry Hiller

Back to my continued blogging break...
 

Two Second Break in My Continued Absence

"Faith in something greater than ourselves enables us to do what we have said we'll do, to press forward when we are tired or hurt or afraid, to keep going when the challenge seems overwhelming and the course is entirely uncertain."

- Gordon B. Hinckley

 (Italics & bold added)