The Eternal Guest Room

I recently had a dream that I took a pregnancy test and there were 2 pink lines. They were so vivid and the dream was so real that when I woke up I still felt like it had really happened. I woke up and thought I was pregnant.

Then I realized it was dark and I was lying in bed and I realized that it was just a dream.

But it felt so real that I felt like I had actually lost something. D could barely get me out of bed when it was time because an overwhelming wave of grief was weighing me down.

I’ve never seen two lines. I don’t know how that feels, to look down and see that and realize what it means. In my dream I was happy, and excited, but still in disbelief. I wanted to run out and tell everybody, but I was afraid to, because I knew the lines could go away.

Mostly, though, I was happy. D was there, and we were happy together, both staring at the lines, and overjoyed at what they meant.

It felt so real that I thought about peeing on a stick when I got out of bed, but I knew that would be a waste (way too early, and every other one has been a waste so far anyway). I went through the day quietly, remembering, tearful. I hadn’t felt such a strong sense of loss in a long, long time.

Most days, I do ok. But some days are still soul-crushingly hard. Sometimes having dreams makes it harder.

Since it’s been nearly a month since I went to Atlanta (and since I’ve blogged), I guess it’s time to write about it. I would have done it sooner but I’ve been so busy that the thought of figuring out how to size the photos correctly just made me push it off “one more day” – a lot of days.

It seems surreal that I went. We drove from Dallas to Atlanta on a Friday and from Atlanta to Dallas the following Sunday. The event itself was short – I think we were there for about an hour and a half. It was really focused on families, to the point where I almost felt out of place being childless, but luckily I was mostly prepared for that. It felt like most of the people there had already “resolved” their issues and had children (or were about 2 weeks away from popping one out). There were also a lot of groups – people who knew each other and had formed teams and had matching t-shirts and everything. And I got the feeling that most people were from the Atlanta area, although that’s just a guess (but I think I’m right). So in some ways I felt kind of like an outsider, which was not what I was really expecting, and I didn’t meet or even talk to anyone, which I had figured I would. But then, a lot of that probably has more to do with the fact that I’m really shy and am not good at meeting people.

So, I say all that not to say it was bad, but it wasn’t really what I pictured (though I really wasn’t sure what to expect). We waited around for awhile for things to start, and then they kicked it off and had several people speak – people who had gone through infertility, organizers of the walk, and some other people (it was a month ago, my memory is a little fuzzy). They did a butterfly release for a long-time doctor who had recently passed away. Butterfly releases are always a little funny to me – the butterflies have been asleep, then suddenly they’re shaken out of their box/envelope/whatever and wake up to fly (or hang out on the ground, or on people, etc.). But I like the sentiment behind it.

After people spoke, we lined up and walked around the park. People kept asking me “how long is the walk?” and I said, “um, like less than a mile.” They were picturing something like the long breast cancer walks, I’m sure. But it was super short, because a lot of the people there were either pushing strollers, walking with young kids, or carrying an almost-born baby. So we walked around the park, and my mom and I talked some, but mostly walked, and I thought about why I was there and what we were doing.

Quite a bit of money was raised for the Walk, and I’m guessing quite a bit of Infertility Awareness was raised as well. It was empowering to actually be doing something. I feel so much that I’m just sitting on my hands waiting for things to happen. This was a time when I could actually participate in something that hopefully makes a difference. I thought about the people who cared so much about me, and the people who had donated money to Resolve on my behalf, and I felt so humbled to have that kind of support. It’s not easy to be so open about this stuff but it’s worth it to feel so much love and support and I feel so much less alone. I may not have many any friends at the walk, but I have so many amazing friends and family members that are rooting for me, I have everything I need.

I’m glad I went. It was totally worth the 26 hour round-trip drive to be there for two hours and walk less than one mile. It also meant so much to have my mom there, walking by my side, supporting me and showing that she cares so much about me and what I’m going through. We had a wonderful day in Atlanta, going to places we used to live and doing things we used to do when we lived there.

I knew I was a little bit crazy for making this trip in the middle of the incredible busyness of my life right now, but it was totally worth it.

I took a few pictures and they’re pretty bad, but I wanted to have something to show you.

Part of the route:

Listening to speakers before the Walk:

The starting place! I liked the butterfly balloons:

A sign so we wouldn’t get lost on the walk:

Balloons:

In some ways I feel like I should say more, but I’m not really sure what to say. I’m so glad I was able to go. I just want to say THANK YOU to all of you who donated money – I am really touched by that, and it means so much. I appreciate everyone’s support, not only that but just the emotional support. It truly means more than I can say. You guys are the best.

Leaving for Atlanta in 6 minutes!

Well…something like that.

It’s Friday the 13th and we’ll be driving through rain, floods, and tornado disaster areas. Wish us luck.

In 11 days, I’ll be driving to Atlanta for the 2011 Resolve Walk of Hope. I can’t believe I’m actually going, but it’s official: I’ve registered, set up a page, and posted a link on my facebook profile to ask for funds. So there’s no backing out now! Not that I want to back out, but I had a potential scheduling conflict that has now been resolved (haha. resolved. get it?).

My mom is coming with me; I can’t even say how excited I am about this. Not only because I love my mom and have so much fun spending time with her and am really looking forward to having an entire weekend with just the two of us, but because it represents how much she supports me and wants to do whatever she can to help me get through this. It makes me a little teary, in a good way.

It’s a 13 hour drive from Dallas, so we’ll leave early in the morning on May 13, do the walk on the 14th, and drive back home on the 15th. Probably not the smartest thing to do in the middle of wedding season, but I feel like it’s so important and since it’s enough in my control to be able to do it, I wanted to do whatever I could to make it work.

I’m curious about what it will be like, and how many people will be there. I don’t really know what to expect.

But I’m excited to get to be a part of it.

Here’s the link to my page if anyone is interested or wants any more information:

http://tinyurl.com/3pkflbr

Last night I did something I haven’t done in a really long time – I came across pictures of a baby in my blog feed and burst into tears.

I feel like this longing will never go away, along with the pain. It seems like no matter how good I’m doing, I stlil have those moments.

Lately I have felt like I’ve constantly been on the verge of tears. I think I’m finally starting to admit that there is a very strong chance we will never have our own kids. I’ve always said it and always known it, but in the back of my mind somewhere I truly believed I’d eventually get pregnant.

Now I look around our house and think “this may be it.” There may never be children there; or at least not until we move out of it. I sit at our quiet dinner table and think “this may be what the rest of our dinners are like.” There may never be kids to laugh and talk with at the dinner table. I look at every aspect of my life and think “this may be all you have to work with.” There may never be anyone else.

I’m so tired. And that may be it; it may just be my overly tired, totally stressed out body and mind telling me these things. And I know IVF is coming up, but the first IVF doesn’t always work, and I don’t see how we could afford a second. The odds are against us. I know this.

I feel bad that I haven’t written or posted anything about National Infertility Awareness Week. I meant to, but I haven’t had a moment this week to get it together. I did post something about it as a facebook status; I got a lot of “likes” but zero comments. One person reposted it. I honestly wasn’t expecting more, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I do kind of wish it had done more. Maybe it got lost in peoples’ feeds with all the pictures of everyone else’s babies and kids.

I don’t know where I’m going with any of this – just trying to get some things off my chest, I guess. I think I’m too tired to think straight right now. I guess I just wish my life was different than it is now. And it’s hard that what I want is so far out of my control.

Lately I have really been struggling with feeling left behind.

First, there is the obvious – younger sisters having babies, people much younger and married a much shorter time than me having not only their first kid but their second, clients whose weddings I photographed long after mine making announcements, watching other peoples’ babies turn one, two, three, and then have siblings – etc.

And then there is the other – we were supposed to do IVF in February. Then we were supposed to do it in May or June. And now we’re pushing it back till late summer or early fall. And meanwhile, I’m watching all the other people going through Infertility getting to start their IVF cycles. Or, in some cases, finish.

I was supposed to be right alongside them, for better or for worse. I was supposed to be going through it with them. But instead they start their pills, continue with their shots, talk about the sizes of their follicles, and I’m just sitting there, with nothing. No progress, no hope, nothing to show for all the years behind me.

I’ve even been left behind by the Infertiles.

I know a bunch of people doing IVF in May/June and I just keep thinking that should be me. One girl from my support group started her IVF when we had originally planned on starting ours and now she’s pregnant with twins, and when I see her I think what if that was me?

I’m just sort of here. I’m jealous when they all go “oh wow, there’s a bunch of us doing IVF in May and June!” I want to be one of them. Because I think I’ve hit the end of my hope for ever having a baby the regular way.

I know that it’s best for us to wait a few more months, but I still feel left behind. The best thing I know to do is stay as busy as possible and not think about it, which I generally do a pretty good job with, but I still feel this nagging pull in my heart when I think or hear about it. I’m not wishing away my summer, because I have things I’m really looking forward to, but I’m so ready to get to the next step. Whether it works or doesn’t, I want to get on with it.

The desperation creeps in. Slowly at first, gradually building, finally all-encompassing. You want a baby so bad you’re willing to try anything to get one. Anything.

First it’s harmless – silly stuff, really. The things everyone knows, everyone tells you, if you let them. Legs up after sex. Just relax – take a vacation, don’t even try for a month, just stop thinking about it. Get really drunk. Check, check, check.

Then it gets a little weirder, you search a little harder, spend a little money. Pineapple cores. Mucinex. Green tea. Red raspberry leaf. Special fertility vitamins. Baby aspirin. Grapefruit juice. Evening primrose oil. Maca. Etc., etc., etc.

Pick your cocktail. Someone tried this and someone else tried that, so you try them both, along with the rest. All of this possibly on top of fertility treatments and shots and pills.

And nothing happens. So you move on to the next phase: acupuncture, herbs, fertility spells, maybe even a chiropractor. The bills start piling up. But you can’t stop: this next thing might be THE thing.

You hear it and think it and say it over and over again: “I’ll try anything, anything at all,” because you’re desperate enough and you know it.

But you keep going, giving into the desperation, because this might be your magic bean, your golden ticket, your key to the whole screwy mess.

And then it isn’t.

So you try something else.

The desperation is consuming. It clings to you like you cling to it. It’s cruel; it gives false hope. It keeps you coming back for more. “Sure,” you say, “I’ll try that. After all, it won’t hurt anything.”

Just your bank account, and your spirit when it fails. It surely looks irrational and ridiculous from the outside. People will think I’m silly and wonder why I bother – many will wonder why we don’t “just” do IVF.

I had a warm spinach salad and a glass of warm water for dinner. Not because I wanted them, but because it might make some sort of difference.

I am desperate. I’ll try anything. Anything at all. I can’t even begin to explain it.

*Disclaimer: I haven’t actually tried all the things listed above – just most of them.

I am trying so, so hard to be ok. Of course, the harder I try, the more stuff seems to be thrown at me. Or at least that’s how it seems.

But I try not to dwell on those things. (Too much.) I take time to grieve them – get a pizza, have some wine, listen to sad music, don’t do any work for a day – and then try to move on. This weather is helping. Winter gets me down and Spring makes me breathe deeply again. I see the sun and hear the birds outside my window.

I know that we might still have a long road ahead. IVF keeps getting pushed back and back and back. But I can’t keep putting my life on hold and so I try to get on with it, and be ok.

Life is busy now, and that helps. I don’t really have time to be sad. A big part of my job is to focus on the happiness in other peoples’ lives, and that’s been hard these past years but I’m trying to get past that.

I’m also feeling hopeful. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing; at this point it helps me get through the days but I’m afraid that at another point it will grind them to a halt.

I’ve been listening to a fertility teleconference this week and they talk a lot about trying to gain control. I’ve felt out of control for years and there is comfort in trying to regain some of that. More on that in another post.

As soon as I figure out how to work my new scanner I’ll share my polyp pictures. They’re pretty interesting and actually may hold some answers. I know you’re excited to see the inside of my uterus! Who wouldn’t be?