Grading

I'm sitting at Starbucks, grading papers (and surfing the Internet, which is much more fun), and I wish I didn't have to assign grades. It's painful grading a student with learning differences, tallying the total, and writing "F" at the top of the paper. I don't think my students often realize the struggle I endure to give them the grade they deserve. Instead, the complaint is "Mrs. Bird grades too hard." At moments like this (midterm time), I wish I taught in a world where students were so eager to learn that grading became a frivolous, meaningless activity. A world in which students read Austen and Dumas (or any author!) for fun and wrote their thoughts daily. A world in which math didn't exists. (Sorry, math-friends.)

All this teacher-introspection and evaluation of my students causes me to think about my little girl. Will she be a brainiac? An avid reader? A bit on the slow side? Lacking common sense? A music prodigy? A gal who can't hit a note if her life depended on it? A fan of chic lit or sci-fi? A movie-reviewer? Possess a sense of direction? Get lost from the door to the driveway? Right now, all the many pieces of her are unknown, and the reality of the possibilities excites my heart. I will have the opportunity to know a whole new little person while she discovers her likes and dislikes, her strengths and weaknesses. My hope, my plan, and my expectation is to take her as she is--learning differences, an IQ of 180, or just an average girl. I'm so glad that I don't have to grade her on a scale of 1-100. I'm sure I couldn't be fair at all.

I'm Back!

Back from the land of walking pneumonia. Back from coughing all day long. Back from the "embrace the fatigue" blog that I last wrote--it wasn't just fatigue after all.

I must say it's good to be back in time for Christmas. I've been reading through the Christmas story, paying particular attention this year to Mary's perspective as she experiences motherhood for the first time. Her attitude of trust and submission in the midst of the most abnormal pregnancy ever acts as a reminder to me about my attitude of trust through a fairly normal pregnancy. I've found that during this season of my life, I must entrust my body, my marriage, and my parenting skills to Someone greater than myself.

The first, my body, because it's fickle; sometimes it acts as it should, but most often I find that it operates as it (or the baby) sees fit from day to day. Such a range of fatigue, hormones, and symptoms can be frustrating if I'm not willing to take each day in stride. My marriage because I've begun to realize that I will relearn Tim in an entirely new role--as a father as well as my best friend and lover. I expect that we will develop a deeper bond with one another through the crazy-love experience of parenthood, but the change (any change, for that matter) is still a bit scary. And finally, my parenting skills because I don't know what the heck I'm doing. :) I'll start by loving her wildly, beyond what I once thought possible. From there, I'll need help to find the balance between doting and condoning, spoiling and over-protecting.

I figure though that if a 14-year-old girl could be the mother of God, then surely He'll help a 28-year-old be a decent mother to Macie. Merry Christmas, my baby girl. I'll SEE you next year.

Embrace the fatigue

The sun is shining for the first day in the past week or so, and I am about to trek outside with my midterms and sit and bask in the Vitamin D while I edit them. Macie is draining me today, a disappointing fact since I assumed that the second trimester would be full of frolicking around school, shopping, and building the nursery in my spare time. Ha! My doctor reminded me sweetly that every pregnancy is different, and even though one friend told me that she had MORE energy in her second trimester than BEFORE she was pregnant (is that really possible????), that's not the reality in which I live. But I accept this as part of mommy-prep and as a necessity to help my baby grow, grow, grow. My motto today: Embrace the fatigue. The end result is worth it.

Squirming

Each day I feel Macie--yes, that's her name--squirm and wiggle, and I've found that no matter what difficulties I'm facing or what anxieties are swimming in my mind, this movement gives me pause, a moment to relax and delight in my baby girl. I spoke with a friend about this strange sensation recently, and I recalled my many fears of being a mom. In fact, I would say I was probably one of the most fearful, non-parents out there. Illogical fears and some not-so-illogical fears kept me so preoccupied that I wondered if perhaps parenting just wasn't meant for me after all. I guess I'm writing this to encourage anyone who has experienced similar emotions about this experience that carries with it so many unknowns. I've noticed that as Macie grows, my worries about loving her and caring for her diminish. I'm sure I'll never be entirely free of mom-concerns, but I am thrilled to see how much the reality of her overshadows the unrealistic anxieties of motherhood.

You're a Girl!

To My Baby-Girl Bird,

First of all, you were so worth the wait. The tests and tears and pokes and prods can never compare to the joy of seeing your eyes and heart and bones, the container that holds your personality and attitude and smiles and frowns, all the beauty of you. So many people are excited about your arrival, and without your awareness, you are being asked about and texted about and talked about by family, friends, students, and everyone else to whom I announce your arrival (including the waitress at Olive Garden last night J).

In honor of finding out more about you and spending almost every moment thinking about you, I want to share with you some of the hopes I have for you.

I hope you giggle at silly, random things.

I hope you cry with those who cry.

I hope you laugh often at yourself.

I hope you pick flowers and make dandelion necklaces.

I hope you eat blueberries and strawberries from a field.

I hope you let go of petty grudges.

I hope you race to the ocean tide—and finally catch it.

I hope you never know the meanness that popularity can bring.

I hope you choose honesty rather than ease.

I hope you love ice cream the first time you taste it.

I hope you know God’s love early and never doubt it.

I hope you play tea-party with daddy on a regular basis.

I hope you are angered at injustice and fight for the weak.

I hope you know far more joy than sorrow.

I hope you run to mommy when you’re knee is skinned or your heart is broken.

I hope you trust the incredible support-system all around you.

I hope you meet a man as good as your daddy (but not until you are 35 J).

I hope you love life and live deliberately.

I not only hope this for you. I have a feeling that though you (and your parents) will make mistakes, the heart of your life will be all this—and much more.

I love you,

Mom

My Favorite Picture of Baby Bird

Venti Calm Tea Misto with Soy

I'm sitting in class right now, waiting for my students to finish reading the last Chapter of The Scarlet Letter. I had hoped to read it aloud to them, but I am sick. A coughing, sneezing, congested, "am I wetting myself?????" kind of sick. I never thought about the ramifications of that during pregnancy. Now, I worry about how being ill might affect my baby. Now, I can't take most meds and instead just work through it. Now, I call my mom at 6:45am and ask more questions than I already would normally. Now, I'm easier on myself as a teacher, drinking my Venti Calm Tea Misto with Soy and ichatting about the book with my students. It's all I can do right now. All of this leads me to believe that this may be part of the prep for being a mom myself. Concern for my child, questions for my mom, less of a focus on work and more on home. Being a mom. Hmmm... What a nice thought, even with all the new (cuter) baggage that I carry with me on this journey to motherhood.

Pregnancy Is Weird

Okay. So I really thought that pregnancy was like this: throw up, get a belly, suffer through delivery, bring home baby. Now, I wonder how many other millions of misconceptions I have. Instead, I've found that pregnancy is like this:

1. Wake up with achy legs because I've tossed and turned from side to side all night (in an attempt to avoid sleeping on the back or belly)

2. Go to the bathroom and discover a bloody nose because apparently every blood vessel in my body dilates during this miracle-of-life-making

3. Get dressed, attempting to find a cute outfit that still covers the belly

4. Walk down to the car to go to work and then just sit for a moment, attempting to catch my breath (apparently rising progesterone has something to do with this)

5. Go to work and suddenly need a bathroom visit in the middle of class (when it's desperate, the poor children are left to fend for themselves for a few moments)

6. Sneeze while I'm working in my office and suddenly wonder if I've just gone to the restroom on myself (not completely yet, thank goodness)

7. ALWAYS forget SOMETHING (like turning in grades or a meeting)

8. Stumble over my words during lectures and grade the kids' papers incorrectly, obviously because my baby is becoming a genius and needs my extra brain power (not leaving me much to work with)

9. Finish my work day full of energy and arrive home (after an entire 5 minute drive), about ready to pass out from exhaustion. Nap or no nap, depending on the evening, but still tired and ready for bed by 10pm either way.

10. Go to sleep, prepared to wake again every two hours in order to get up and visit the bathroom once again. I assume this is my body's way of preparing me for 2am feeding (and 4am and 6am, etc...)

These are not complaints because I paid a little over $1000 for each of the above observations. Thus, they are merely noticeable moments in this strange world in which my body has been hi-jacked by a (currently) navel-orange-sized little person. But I know that these minor weirdnesses will be worthwhile, so in the meantime, I'm glad to share this body -- this oh-so-strange and changing-day-to-day body -- with my little fruit-sized wonder.

Making Faces

This week has been a tough one at work, as a couple of recent events about a faculty member has unfolded in the media. However, last night while Tim worked out and watched the Rockets downstairs, my mom came over and took me to Target to spend some of my birthday money (and her money too, of course). We perused the baby section, enjoying browsing amongst the oh-so-adorable one-sies and tiny shoes. After choosing a few gender-specific items (more girl stuff than boy, so we'll see how that goes), the "Big Bang Theory" season one, M&Ms, and a frozen pizza, we went back to my apartment where we talked profusely and laughed loudly and ate delightedly. While we watched the season and my mom gave me a back rub, she said, "You need to laugh like this every night. Just come home and laugh."

I realize that she's completely right. Laughter is sweet relief to a drained spirit. I remember being particularly reminded of this at points in my life where I would giggle and then realize that I couldn't remember the last time that happened. So today, I encourage all of us to find at least one carefree moment to chuckle out loud--at a film, at a comment made by someone else, at the strange situation we may find ourselves in, or simply at ourselves. Surely we can always find one characteristic about our unique personalities with which to amuse ourselves. If all else fails, make faces at yourself in the mirror.

Resurfaced

Many readers know that my relationship with my dad is sadly strained at the moment. Typically, I go throughout my day, occasionally thinking or speaking of him, but often focused on my work, family, or friends. However, my birthday last weekend brought up a grief that resurfaces on occasion. The thought that my child might not know someone whose life deeply influenced mine offers a difficult reality to face. Although no easy answers exist in a situation like this, I do know that grief is an inevitable part of the process, whether the relationship ends in a happy reunion or a sad separation. I find that embracing the sorrow allows me to move forward unlike the results of avoidance or distraction. A friend brought a song to my mind recently, and I would like to share it as a tool that comforts me as I work through this array of complex emotions. May we all know the comfort of being held. The YouTube link is below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOufqWodFNo

A Day Away

Tim and I left Sunday to visit old college friends and to stay in good ol' Santo, Texas, a town that makes me feel as if I've "gotten away from it all." At the end of the street where we are staying is a Santo Market, a mercantile that sells a pound of sugar for $5 a pop, and across the street is First Baptist Santo, where I'm sure a good percentage of the town attends church each week. Here, I am reminded to slow down, to stop in the doorway and enjoy the cool, fall breeze, and to appreciate the life-long friends who invite us to stay with them. We've been here several times pre-baby, and the feel of the place is always the same. Only this time, baby Bird came along for the ride (and it feels like a looooooong ride now), and as I watch my friend's eleven month old toddle around, I think of what the day will be like when our baby is doing the same. It seems so far away, but the consistency of Santo mocks the fast pace of our lives. Eleven months old will be here before I know it.

A Gymnast?

The above file is a short video from our ultrasound this morning. Baby Bird is upside down kicking and moving around. My most beautiful keepsake so far!!!

The below video is from a couple of weeks ago.

NYTimes is Funny

The site www.alittlepregnant.com alerted me to recently published articles in The New York Times.
Click below to see a short commentary that ran in today's paper:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/14/opinion/l14babies.html?_r=1&sq=IVF&st=cse&adxnnl=1&scp=1&adxnnlx=1255550628-05NgEdo1S+4Zr8yvvm2NAg

This was my favorite part of the first comment:
"Your front-page article is a good place to start increasing the awareness of the very real risks parents face in the choices made around assisted reproduction. Insurers, too, could play a key role by offering full coverage for single-embryo transfer, with marked reduction or even elimination of coverage for multi-egg implantation."


HA! Those who have done IVF--or any type of fertility treatment--will find the humor in that statement.  Insurers pay???  Money???  To help with infertility???  Certainly it's not their responsibility to cover a medical condition that affects 10-20% of the population!  (Insert sarcasm here).  I realize that some states (15, I believe) do cover (or partially cover) infertility treatments, but that means 35 DO NOT.  In fact, I just did a search on Texas, and technically, it's considered a "covered state."  However, the exact statement under "Coverage" says "No coverage required.  Insurers are only required to offer IVF."  It's like dangling a piece of chocolate in front of this pregnant woman and snatching it away as soon as I reach out my hand.  


I would be happy with any type of infertility insurance coverage--single-embryo transfer, double, triple, fifty-zillion, whatever.  I'm sure most infertiles would appreciate the same.

Acrobatics

This morning I woke up at 5am, fairly startled out of bed by radiating pain throughout my torso.  My chest and back were on fire with what I'm assuming was the worst indigestion known to mankind while my upper stomach ached and rumbled.  A couple hours later--after losing some of last night's dinner, taking eight Tums (I almost lost count), and resting on the couch--I felt a bit better, though not well enough to drive to my doctor's appointment this morning.

That's where mom steps in to save the day.  After working a 12-hour shift, she turned around from heading toward home, came and picked me up, and took me to the doctor.  I had decided to just skip it in order to stay on the couch with my knees pulled up around my abdomen--why does that always seem to help with tummy issues?

However, after arriving at the doctor's office and speaking with the doctor, who said this could either be a stomach bug or just pregnancy-related (joy!), mom and I were both a bit relieved.  We felt even better when they inserted the probe to check on baby and found it facing us and moving around to get away from the pressure of the probe.  It's acrobatics did more for me than those 8 Tums ever could have.  I knew in my head that babies move around in the womb, but I admit that I didn't really believe that it happened this early until I saw it's arm and leg buds kicking and punching.  Although this statement might seem somewhat narcissistic, I was also amazed to see that it does all of this moving and heart-beating and squirming without me controlling anything at all.  This little life is sustained without me watching it every moment.  It's heartbeat still beats whether or not I'm taking notice of it.  For me, this picture acted as a good reminder that letting go, not attempting to control everything, can offer great blessings in the end.

EatonWeb Blog Directory

Juggling

At the risk of being "facebook-y" and listing the details of my day (a characteristic of the online program that one of my bffs HATES), I offer concrete evidence of my (and all other infertility-related pregnancies) unique pregnancy juggling act:

6:45 am: Wake up (I know it's much later than some of you early-risers)
7:30 am: NHS E-recylcling meeting (don't ask)
8 am: Prep for class
8:45 am: Teach second period
9:45 am: Go home and shoot up (not near as fun as it sounds) and pick up Tim for the adventure to No-Man's Land
10:20 am and on and on and on 'til forever: Wait at doctor's office to meet new Ob; love her; give samples; be poked and prodded; hear the heartbeat--amazing!!!; lose the parking ticket and pay an entire day's cost (it felt like we were there the entire day anyway, so why not?)
1:15 pm: Missed 5A class and my lunch break; Back at school with my Jamba Juice liquid-lunch (threw in an oatmeal cookie too--baby will be as sweet as sugar); monitor library during 5B
1:40 pm: Give notes on "Canterbury Tales" and attempt to make Chaucer fascinating
2:30 pm: Discuss American Romanticism and mold young minds into loving 1850s literature as much as I do (at least I tried)
3:15 pm: Begin tutorial and have a student turn in a paper--5 weeks late.  Oh well.
4 pm: Go to Gugliani's, a little Italian place near our house that Tim thinks my pregnant belly is obsessed with.  I suppose he's right.

This week, I only have 39 pills, one patch, one tv ultrasound (so fun!), and one more doctor's appointment.  Infertility definitely makes for a unique baby-experience even once the baby is made.  I guess I hadn't realized how much work would come after the hysteroscopies, egg retrieval, and embryo transfer.  I guess I'm in for a shock when baby arrives, although I'm sure Baby Bird will sleep through the night and overall be the perfect child ;) --unless he/she is like I was.   Oops.  Should have thought of that before asking the lab--and God--to make a mini-me.

Regardless of the unique infertility pregnancy experience, I do know this: the meds, the unbalanced schedule, the jabs at my underworld, all of it becomes worth it as soon as that baby's microscopic heart appears on the screen.  I am grateful for ALL my pregnancy-weirdness.  No complaints here.

Time to Rest

I said to my mom today, "If I could just know that I will be okay after the baby is born, I think I would have a peaceful pregnancy." Reading over this comment now points out how silly such a statement is. Why worry now about something I have no power to change in the future and which will not be near as troubling as the scenarios I create in my mind, based on extreme stories I hear? Unfortunately, that's the problem with anxiety--it's illogical and deceptive.

I had coffee with a friend recently who admitted her fears--which mirror mine. She looked at me and said, "I'm afraid to have a baby because I'm afraid of postpardum afterward." Another friend who is struggling to conceive tried to convince me (and herself, I believe) that "Maybe I'm just not meant to have kids . . . and that's okay." (But from experience, I know it's not really okay.) I know exactly how these women feel. I think that anyone who yearns for a child and then watches the stick tell them "Nope, not even close" each month struggles with some of the same kinds of fears. I admit that I even believed for a year or so that perhaps God wouldn't give me a child because I would be a bad mother after it was born. Lies, lies, lies. All lies.

As we all know, however, lies come in a variety of shapes and sizes and appear in a multitude of different circumstances. Ladies, let's find the truth, speak it to one another, and learn to live and walk and breathe it daily.

Baby Bird's Heartbeat

The little flutter in the middle of the whiteness (best seen in the last 3 seconds or so) is our baby's heartbeat. 153 beats per minute. Whoo-hoo!

I'm Finally Awake . . . for a few minutes

Those trying to call me have been getting voice mail a lot lately because I feel as if I'm either working or sleeping. This is part of the reason I haven't written an extended post in a while. I'm just plain tired. However, I was reminded by a friend at school today that it's important to keep detailing this emotional journey--the highs and lows--of fertility. A couple of observations have become thought-provoking issues for me at present.

The first follows:

A couple of weeks ago, I found out that two friends are pregnant. I recently met these sweet women and am still getting to know them, but I found their sensitivity endearing as they sought to find out where I was at in the process/how my very early pregnancy was progressing, seemingly to have an understanding for whether or not they should tell me their good news. When they did tell me, I felt excited for them, and for some reason that is difficult to pinpoint, I felt, as I often do, relieved for (while at the same time envious of) women who do not struggle through fertility medications/treatment/endless time like we did. However, I certainly didn't feel as I would have expected, like I was part of "the club" of pregnant women everywhere. Instead, I felt like an outsider, like I was hearing their news outside the walls of the security that comes with knowing a child is growing healthy and stable inside. My experience has been marked with such uncertainty that it is difficult to relax and enjoy the ride even now. I called a friend who also went through fertility treatments. She was melting and making new crayons with her daughter, and upon taking a moment to chat, she identified immediately with my feelings, reminding me that the experience of my friends has been far different from mine and will therefore bring different thoughts, struggles, and feelings. As Tim often reminds me, "Our journey has been different all along. We can't compare ours to someone else's."

The second introspective experience was this:

We toured a children's hospital labor and delivery area this past weekend in order to help select an Ob-Gyn (I've just been seeing my fertility doctor up to this point). While sitting in the small room with an uncomfortable-looking bed, I realized how REAL this was. One of my friends once said after her delivery, "I can't believe they gave me this baby to take home." Those were my thoughts in that moment. In eight months, God-willing, this tiny, scary, hungry, beautiful creature is going to ride home with me and then stay for about 18 years or so. What have I gotten myself into? In the vein of honesty that I try to cultivate on this site, I'll say that since then I've been a bit anxious. Thoughts of: What if I have postpardum depression? What if I'm too exhausted to take care of baby? What if I have to be cooped up all day with a screaming infant? Alone? Without adult conversation? As I write these fears, I smile because most likely I will deal with an aspect of all of these, and just like any other anticipatory anxiety, the real experience will not be nearly as awful as I fear. And if it is, I will walk through that too and come out on the other side. Thankfully, the struggle through infertility--as well as other life issues--has taught me that I can walk through tough times and come out stronger because of the support system that surrounds me.

Thank you to everyone for all of your support these past few months. Your words, thoughts, and prayers are so appreciated. I have another ultrasound Thursday, and I'm sure I'll once again post another pic of our little blueberry-sized miracle.

Another Baby Bird Photo-already the obnoxious parent :)

Baby Bird is the long stick-looking part, not the round circle.  It's amazing how from one week to the next, we can actually see the baby.

One Little Heartbeat

We have a heartbeat at 6 weeks and 3 days pregnant! AH!

First Pictures

I promised a couple of weeks ago that I would upload pics from the embryo transfer--of the babies, not me (I look rough).  The above picture is of our two embryos that were transferred on August 13.  We call them "Boboli #1" & "Boboli #2."

The below picture is of my uterus (fun, eh?) and of the microscopic embryos enclosed in an air bubble (the white spot next to the white arrow).

Babies first pictures--looks just like me and Tim. :)

Almost Time!

We should have news to share by the end of this week--hopefully sooner rather than later. Yeah!

Why the switch?

Some of you may notice that in earlier postings, I talk about adoption occasionally. Then, I switched to fertility talk as our focus becomes more and more geared towards making Bird babies first. I wanted to take a moment to clarify why exactly this switch happened.

It's not because we no longer want to adopt, and it's not because we "want to have our OWN baby first." We believe that adopted or birthed, any child God grants us will indeed be our OWN, meant to be in our family. Instead, we are chosing to go the fertility-route now for some very simple and not very exciting reasons. First, we our young (and with my PCOS, this is a definite plus) and second, third, and fourth, we feel it's easier (relatively speaking), less expensive (believe it or not), and faster (yep, believe that or not too--of course, depending on the length of fertility treatment) than the international adoption we want to one day pursue.

After walking happily down the adoption track for several months, I kept feeling that the simplest way for us to bring home our baby Bird at this point in our lives would be to try to make one in a lab before we cross the far-away seas. :) At some point--perhaps sooner than later--I believe that we will walk that road and dream about our far-away miracle once again. In fact, I actually already long for that child too. The most important point to me, however, is that Tim and I are in complete agreement, whether in the fertility office or the airport terminal. IVF is where our agreement has brought us, but we are willing to shift gears again as new information and new direction leads.

For now, though, I feel I can only focus on getting one Baby Bird at a time. (And with 12 on ice, that may be no small undertaking). Happy baby-making/waiting!

Still Waiting

Yes, still waiting. If it's driving you crazy, how do you think I feel? :) Today I went to the doctor for more blood work. I see them almost every other day at present.

I thought that in today's blog I might answer a question that a friend recently asked me. "So, are you hopeful or are you just waiting for the bottom to fall out (as it seems to do periodically)?" Followed by, "How will you feel if it doesn't work?" Because we've known one another since childhood, she can ask tough questions like this.

My response was quick although I was only a couple of days into the process, still on bed rest in fact. "It would feel like a miscarriage," I answered. It would feel like loss. It would feel ten times worse than the day I drove to our new Houston home from Galveston in the pouring rain, sobbing because the blood work came back negative. It would feel like the quiet moments of whispering baby names back and forth with Tim had been stolen from me. It would feel like part of me fled with the loss. And then, after time passed, it wouldn't hurt as much, and I'm sure we'd try again.

I have another dear friend who lost her son around 35 weeks before doing IVF and delivering her beautiful, healthy baby girl a couple of years later. The strength of her words despite the tears that form anytime he is mentioned teach me that each sadness can be used to build an inner fortitude that stands solid despite the next discouragement. I've heard this referred to as the ministry of disappointment.

I do not write this (rather dismal) entry because I expect disappointment. On the contrary, I am extremely optimistic at this point. Instead, I write this to provide an inside glimpse to anyone who may not have experienced loss of a baby-hope. It might benefit us to all be more sensitive in our comments or to learn when to just be silent and grieve a while until the time for smiles returns. For though weeping remains for a night, rejoicing comes with the morning. Come, rejoicing, come.

Just a chat

This morning I went into the doctor's office for my second follow up appointment. No news yet, of course. (Basically, I'm at the place where most people wouldn't be really even wondering whether or not they were pregnant except that I saw two tiny dot-babies placed inside me.) As I sat in the waiting room, surrounded by silent, strong women, I was struck by the fact that we were all sharing a similar struggle and yet none of us felt comfortable even looking into one another's eyes. Is there something shameful about this process? Is it so private that it becomes secretive? Is it so difficult that we'd rather only whisper about it to the people we love?

I would have completely avoided eye contact (as is the unspoken fertility waiting room etiquette) except that a smiling, young black woman who was practically glowing (really) looked me right in the eye and whispered a polite greeting. In the past three months in that waiting room, I don't think I've ever had that response. Sitting across from us was a woman staring intently at her magazine of choice. A moment later, another woman--this one thin, white with long, blond hair--entered the room with a pained expression on her features. She hadn't even yet signed in and she looked as if she might cry at any moment. As she sat nearby, she made the fourth corner of our silent little female fertility party.

I broke the ice, looking at the friendliest face first. She seemed happy after all. "Are you finished with all your treatments?"

She nodded and smiled the grin of the finished. "I'm in my two week wait."

"Me too," I answered, happy to have been warmly received. Within a few minutes I found out her story, using the lingo that all fertility females know just like our ABC's. Day 5 transfer. 25 eggs. 19 fertilized. Ended with "only" 17 embryos. "Only?" I asked, aware that the women sitting near us may not have dreamed of every being that lucky. But this gal was only 26, an embryo herself in the world of fertility.

"We tried for a while, and then we decided to adopt," she said. "We went through CPS and had our little boy for a year and a half before he was taken back to his mom." She said it with the socially-expected non-emotionalism, but I could tell that baby was hers heart and soul. Still, she seemed cheerful, saying that she just wants what's best for him.

When this young woman and I discovered that our transfers were approximately 45 minutes apart on the same day with the same doctor, she asked another standard question. "Have you been checking your levels?" Of course. And we compared ours. Similar, as expected.

The magazine woman was called into the doctor's office, leaving us with a triad of fertility females. Although the pained woman had interjected occasionally, she began to share more of her story eagerly after the smiling woman and I had talked for a while. She's almost forty, had a successful IVF, and lost the baby at two months. She had no embryos left over to freeze. "It's so frustrating to start from the beginning again," she said, her eyes downcast. Her husband is out of town, so his sperm is on ice, ready and waiting for the next fertilization.

"I'm so sorry. I could tell when you walked in that you were having a hard time." Simple words, but she seemed ready to hear someone who knows what this is like to look her in the eyes and apologize for her body's betrayal of her desires.

At one point during the conversation, I joked that we should start a support group, and I received a few chuckles, even from magazine woman. Perhaps that extreme isn't needed, and maybe eye contact, a grin, and a sincere "I'm sorry. This really sucks, doesn't it?" is all that's needed.

So, to any woman (fertility females or not) who is reading this and struggling through her own difficult place (with a man, a baby/child, a boss/job, an adoption, or your own body), let me take a moment to say "I'm sorry. This really sucks, doesn't it?" Now, let’s go forward together.

We’re strong women after all.

Rested

If I am not rested by now, I never will be. 72 hours of bed rest later, and I am up and around somewhat. I'll be returning to work for in-service this afternoon, and tomorrow all my little (and bigger-than-me) kiddos will return to start a new year.

On Thursday we arrived and dressed down completely in surgical gear. Tim had to wear a full blue-paper body suit that caused me amusement (particularly because I was loaded up on Valuum). They lead us to the operating room, and Dr. Gill came in and informed us that we had 12 "perfect" (yes, that's the word he used!) blastocysts. The procedure wasn't painful as they transferred two blastocysts, and Tim and I were both surprised at the emotional connection we felt to the little blobs that looked like "Boboli" pizza dough and carried our DNA.

I'll be visiting the doctor every other day beginning today to do blood work and ultrasounds as needed. Now we wait.

Amazingly...It's Time

I received a call from the doctor's office today letting me know that I am scheduled for an embryo transfer tomorrow at 12:15pm. Two embryos will be transferred into my uterus while Tim and I watch on the big screen; I will then recover (with my valuum and IBProfen) for 45 minutes before heading home for bed rest. It's surreal that the time is finally here, and I welcome the distraction that my work day brings from obsessing about the procedure. Thanks for all your thoughts!

Update

We received a call from the doctor's office yesterday, and 21 of our 22 eggs fertilized. They will grow until Thursday morning (although several will most likely not make it until the Day 5 blastocyst stage), and then the doctor should have a good idea of which two embryos will be the best options to implant. I am currently taking progesterone in oil shots along with a variety of other hormone meds, and I think the shots make me more sore than any other shots I've taken. I'm also continually fatigued, but as a friend (who is also a new mom) just told me today, "You'll be tired for the next 18 years." Guess you have to start sometime.

Tomorrow I'll be preparing for bedrest and Wednesday I'll be back at school for the first in-service day. I'm excited about Thursday because Tim and I will have the opportunity to watch the embryos be placed in the uterus and then receive a picture of them just chillin'. :) I'll try to post the picture a few days after the implantation. Thanks to everyone for your encouraging words and support!

Hatched

This morning was my egg retrieval, and I was more loopy and in pain than the last two hysteroscopies. I kind of felt as if someone had kicked me in the ovaries. Pleasant, huh? Tim, Sarah, and my sis Lindsay are taking good care of me by turn though, and right now I'm relaxing on the couch, drinking my Gatorade and watching Sense & Sensibility.

When I walked into the surgery room this morning, I noticed a long bin on wheels with a clear top. It truly looked like the incubators in which farmers place eggs that are ready to hatch into baby chicks. And that's where my eggs went, ready to be hatched. The nurse told us that the eggs and sperm incubate (separately, I believe) for approximately four hours before the sperm are injected into the eggs, making tiny embryos. So, depending on when exactly you believe life begins, you might consider Tim and I semi "mom" and "dad" by 2pm today. :) crazy weird!

So the announcement is that I had 22 eggs total, although some of these might not be mature or may have passed maturity, etc... We'll know more tomorrow after they have been fertilized. Over the next few days, I will be resting and preparing for three days of bedrest starting Thursday most likely. Let me know if you have any suggestions for bedrest activities or movies!

The "Whatever" Gene

I just took my Lupron shot, and I'll take one more at 9:30am tomorrow morning. After that, my body will do what it must to begin the ovulation process before the egg extraction on Saturday. I am hoping they can retrieve 15-20 eggs. We'll know soon!

I was talking with my sister Lindsay tonight, discussing our extremes: me, the planner and sometimes "freaker-outer" extraordinaire; her, my cool, calm, and always relaxed younger opposite. As we pointed out these differences, I told her that I hoped my baby got the "whatever" gene, the one that allows him/her to relax and let life come and go and just be.

Tim definitely has this gene, and it must be somewhere in my gene pool if my look-alike little sis has it. I'm thinking baby has at least a chance. But, hey, there must be some good in the "do-it-now-or-I-will-do-it-for-you" gene because baby probably wouldn't have a chance of getting on this earth if the "whatevers" just let life be. :) At least that's the way I make myself feel better.

Moody Me

The past couple of days have been quite a ride, especially for Tim, who has to bear with my laughing hilarity one moment and my sad anxiety the next. But no, I'm not crazy (at least not yet). It's the hormones. (The hormones offer a variety of excuses!) My estradiol is very high right now, and although I don't completely know what that means, I am assuming it contributes to the whirlwind that is me at the moment. I am hoping to take my "trigger" shot (Lupron) tomorrow night.

However, we received good news today. I can stop one of the injections, so I'm down to only two per day, and we will most likely proceed with the egg retrieval on Saturday. The embryo transfer would then most likely be the following Thursday. The reason for the delay between the egg retrieval and the transfer allows the embryo to develop to a Day 5 blastocyst, which will be more likely to implant and grow in my uterus. Of course, all is subject to change, but as of today, it looks as if I will be on bedrest from Thur-Sat, August 13-15, before resuming light activity.

I am super girl

I visited the doctor again this morning, and because they decreased my injection dosages, I now have 20-25 follicles total.  They are measuring between 12-14mm.  When they reach 16-18mm (which I expect will be in the next couple of days), then I know I am close to the egg retrieval.  The latest date I expect that to happen is this Sunday.  

The past few days I have felt tired and occasionally a bit nauseated, and my tummy is bruised and sore from constant poking and prodding (I'm up to three injections a day right now).  I'm thankful I have another week and a half of summer to take naps as needed.  

Tim is really afraid of needles (like "I'd rather just pass out right now than have to look at a needle" kind of afraid), so I've been giving the injections to myself.  Yes, I am super girl after all.  He is pretty funny though when he stands a few feet away from me, trying to cheer me on with phrases like "Go, Kristen, I'm here for you" (all the while looking away/running away as needed), while I take a deep breath and poke and prod at my stomach.  At least there's some fat there to absorb the pain :).

Hope to post news of the egg retrieval soon!!!

An Entire Flock

Yesterday the doctor decreased my dosage because my levels were a bit high, and this morning I went in for another ultrasound and more blood work.  While we were there, the doctor told us that I have 15 follicles on each side.  Basically, Tim and I could potentially have a flock of Bird babies in our nest. (I know that's cheesy, but if you can't be cheesy with baby stuff, when can you be?)  Most likely, some of these follicles won't grow enough to make the cut, but it looks as if we might meet our 20-egg goal.  We'll know more in the next few days.  

If you're a science-minded person and are interested in seeing what the follicles look like (not my person follicles, though if I had a picture, I'm sure I'd post it :)) on ultrasound, here's a link: http://www.victoriafertility.com/uploads/image003.jpg  The follicles are the black, bubble-looking circles.  The goal is for these to grow between 16-18mm before breaking them open and extracting the eggs.  (Sometimes I feel like I'm a chicken when I talk about these things.)

So far I don't feel very effected by the hormones except that I am more tired than normal.  But who can complain about excuses to nap without guilt?  

On a separate note, I went to an acupuncturist yesterday because it's supposed to help with relaxation and fertility (some people claim it helps with the blood flow to the uterus, etc...).  It did seem a bit strange laying in the dark with needles stuck all over my body (though it didn't hurt) for 20 minutes, but by the time I finished, I felt ready for another nap--so relaxed and peaceful.  I recommend the experience.

I'm waiting now to hear from my doctor again.  He will decide if I should change my dosage and when my next appointment will be.  I'm so glad we are finally running full ahead with the procedures.  I'm ready for this Baby Bird.

Ready, Set, Go

Today was the first day of injections, and we are on the fertility road once again.

(A few specifics for those who have been through such an experience and are interested in numbers: My appointment this morning offered the wonderful information that I have no cysts, my uterine lining looks healthy (7.2mm), and I currently have six follicles on each side. Today, I began taking 150mg of Follistim and 150mg of Menopur.)

I am hesitantly excited about the process, and I expect no side effects from the hormone injections for another week or two (hopefully!). I take hormones shots again tomorrow night and then check in with my doctor Thursday morning to find out how many little follicles are growing (the follicles house the eggs that will make half of Baby Bird). This week I'll be working at school (every now and then), preparing for my "little" 15-17-year-old darlings who will greet me bright and early August 18th. I'll touch base again on Thursday after I hear my results.

Tuesday's the Magic Day

So tomorrow I have two appointments.  The first is at 9am for an UltraSound and blood work to ensure that NOW is the proper time to proceed with hormone injections.  After all this waiting, please let it be!!!!  I will also find out whether or not I need a cysts aspiration on Wednesday.   The second appointment is at 3pm to learn about the injections and to receive dosage information I assume.  

Not surprisingly, on this the eve of a new treatment, I have been rather anxious, asking questions like, "What if it doesn't work?"  and then countering with "Oh my gosh, what if it does work?" Basically, my brain doesn't want to give me a break either way.  Ah well.  Despite the questions and concerns, I am excited (such a complexity of emotions, I know) about once again being proactive on this baby quest.  I'll try to update tomorrow after the appointments to let everyone know if we will indeed be proceeding as planned.  

Thanks for all your happy baby-thoughts!

All I Can Say Is . . .

Wow.

http://news.aol.com/health/article/72-year-old-ivf-pregnancy/571249

Back on My Feet

So, for some reason (or a variety of reasons) the second hysteroscopy experience was relatively easy.  Dr. Haddad told me that my uterus is ready--never thought I'd write that--and that it's time to proceed.  I relaxed and slept for several hours after the procedure (and after a shot of Demerol for mild pain), but by the next morning, I had visitors: Suzanne and her IVF-beauty Kennedy.  By the time Sarah D called to come over and "take care of me," I was getting a delux pedicure and ready to go out to lunch and shopping.  

Of course my body couldn't let me get away that easily, so Sunday morning at about 4 am a 24-hour nasty stomach bug hit me and I spent most of the day unpleasantly.  The bright side: I lost a couple of pounds!  (As The Devil Wears Prada film states so eloquently, "I'm one stomach flu away from my goal weight.")  I figure I should get as much weight off as possible before I have the baby-excuse of eating for two.

Now, I wait until next Tuesday, July 28 when (hopefully if all goes well!) I go in for my first appointments--Day 3 UltraSound and BloodWork at 9am and then back at 3pm to learn about the fascinating world of injections.  

As promised in an earlier posting, I'll outline what the month should look like:

Day 3: above

Day 6: Ultrasound & Bloodwork (US & BW)

Day 8: US & BW

Day 10: US & BW

Day 12: US & BW

Day 13: US & BW

(A series of injections, ranging from 1-3 shots per night in addition to other pills, throughout this time)

Day 14: Nothing to eat or drink after midnight

Day 15: Egg Retrieval

Day 16-18: Grow, Babies, Grow!

Day 18: Embryo Transfer

Day 18-20: Bedrest (Sidenote: I think I'm dreading this part more than the waiting to find out if I'm pregnant.  Please feel free to suggest activities (or schedule visits to my bedside) during bed rest.  I won't have any anesthesia to make me drowsy, so it will just be me and my pillow/couch wide-awake and hanging out for three days!!!!)

After bed rest I continue US & BW every couple of days and know for sure a few weeks later when we see a heartbeat.  If it works, I see my fertility doctor for the first trimester before transferring to a regular ObGyn.  If it doesn't work, I make a consultation with my doctor to either try again or we start looking for our little Bulgarian, Armenian, Khazak, AnyKind of baby (and I eat tons of Phish Food, drink lots of margaritas, and cry for a few weeks--but I'm not focusing on that outcome right now.)

Think of us as we move forward and please be in touch!

In Touch

Thursday is my second hysteroscopy, and the BIG question on my mind is whether or not I will finish this fertility treatment before school begins again.  If all is clear, I think I should be able to start the hormone shots the following week.  Strange how I am so looking forward to injecting myself with meds that will most likely make me feel like staying in bed for a couple of weeks.  Oh the complex emotions of fertility!

However, it's been lovely to have a couple of weeks practically hormone free.  I have energy.  I've worked out twice.  (I know it's not much, but it's two times more than the past month!)  I spent time with my family in the pool this evening.  And, thankfully, I enjoyed Old Town Spring, the Premium Outlets at 290, and many snacks out with one of my bffs Lindsay (from Canada, O Canada--what aboot it, eh? :)) last week.

I know that feeling better is a product of many different factors (many medical), but I believe that one factor that cannot be overlooked is the support system that girlfriends offer--no matter what stage of life in which they currently reside.  Whether they've just had a baby, have older children, dealt with infertility for years, have recently married, or are fancy-free single gals, my support system has been deep and wide.  Last week reminded me that those friends, the ones walking through this experience with me, remain invaluable and a necessary part of this experience.

I heard someone say once that everyone is either headed into, out of, or are in the midst of a difficult experience.  My exhortation for the gals perusing this texts are to take a moment and think of that one friend (or handful of friends) willing to listen to incessant ranting or obsessive talk about those struggles you may be facing or may soon face.  Have a coffee with her, call her, or send an e-mail asap.  Above all, keep in touch and hang out regularly.   You need one another. 

Reproductively Challenged

I believe what Charlotte in Sex & The City states boldly when she says, "We're not infertile.  We're just reproductively challenged."  

During this waiting game, Tim often reminds me that we simply have a few issues, so we visit a doctor to sort them out.  Sounds simple, and yet nothing about the process feels simple.  The knowledge that any given day the entire process could be put on hold or stopped is hovering in the back of my mind recently (most likely because that would mean that I would still be doing fertility procedures early in the school year), and yet I continue reminding myself of what I believe firmly--that God determines my days and times.

I am hoping to have my second hysteroscopy--to make sure all the scar tissue is gone--next week and then move forward into an intense month of shots, ultrasounds, blood tests, egg retrievals, and embryo transfers.  In a later post, I'll detail the exact schedule for the month, so those who've never been through this experience can see just why it's always in the forefront of "reproductively challenged" people's minds.  Thanks for reading, and please feel free to pass this site onto anyone you know who may be sharing a similar struggle.  I'm just starting to meet people my age going through this type of life-craziness, and I think it's important we connect and remember that we are never alone in this adventure.

While I'm Here

I thought I'd take a moment to reflect on some of the positive points about the waiting room, detailing what I'm most enjoying about this time of rest.

1. Naps (pretty much daily)

2. Not much energy to work out (thank you for the break, hormones :))

3. Cravings without guilt--particularly for chocolate shakes (Tim reminds me I'm not pregnant yet, but I've decided I'll just have an 11-month pregnancy)

4. Reading, reading, reading (currently: Shopaholics series for fun reading; about to start a new memoir for book club: open to suggestions; recent short story: "Hills Like White Elephants" by Hemingway (still attempting to uncover the many layers); also LOVED The Millionaire Next Door for nonfiction financial advice)

5. Writing: I'm taking an incredible Memoir writing class through UH's InPrint and I'm attempting to write about my own journey daily

6. Berry-picking with a dear friend: Yes, I am truly a farm-girl at heart.  I've brought home a mound of blackberries and blueberries so far

7. Watching movies/hangin' with bff Sarah

8. Hanging with my family--thanks Lindsay for keeping me company (and driving me to the Galleria so I wouldn't go stir-crazy) after my surgery; I love you too, Mom, Katie, & Cody ;)

9. Sleeping in (I thought it appropriate to begin and end my list with my favorite activity and the one that I will most miss when baby is finally here :))

Two more weeks

After the hysteroscopy the doctor told us that fertility treatment would be pushed back two more weeks.  Two more weeks isn't that long.  It's the time period of Christmas break, the time period between May day and Mother's Day, the time period until one of my bffs from Canada comes to visit.  It's not that long.  

But for some reason, when you're already in the waiting room, two weeks feels like a set-back.  Imagine waiting a couple of hours for a doctor to see you and then being told only another forty-five minutes.  When daily life of job and errands and family calls, another forty-five minutes might feel like an eternity.  Thus it is with fertility treatment.  At any point, we might encounter such a set-back.  If my next hysteroscopy goes wrong, if I don't respond properly to the hormones, if the doctor finds something (who knows what else is left to find?) unexpected.

This is why I must take each day, each appointment, each procedure as it comes, attempting to live my everyday, beautiful life in the meantime.

Baby Blocker

Last Thursday, I underwent a hysteroscopy, and the doctor found a bit more than he expected during the procedure. In layman's terms--the only way I understand it--is that the doctor found scar tissue (a septum) running along the top of my uterus, preventing implantation anywhere the scar tissue touched. I consider this good news because I feel that I have another problem checked off my list. In a couple of weeks, my doctor wants to perform another hysteroscopy to ensure it hasn't returned, but he said he is 99.9% certain that it is gone for good.

I wasn't in much pain after the procedure, but the general anesthesia did exhaust me and cause me some stomach issues, though the drugs were wonderful in the moment! I found myself frustrated that I couldn't get up and live my life the day after the surgery, but Tim and my mom encouraged me to rest as long as my body demanded.

Although the experience was by no means fun, I did have a couple of humorous moments after coming out of the anesthesia. The most memorable was minutes after I awoke as the doctor explained details of the procedure and began answering questions about resuming normal activity. In my medicated state, I asked when Tim and I could resume the baby-making. The doctor smiled and asked, "How long would you like?" My answer: "I like sex." True and to the point, I suppose. I guess I liked the happy anesthesia as well.

Things I wonder

I wonder . . .

*if our baby will have my green eyes or Tim's brown (Probably brown if we adopt from           Thailand :))

*if the grand total for our babies will cost us more than our first home

*if we will choose a funky name or a traditional one

*whether baby will cry or sleep most of the time

*if we'll someday want a house with a yard instead of a trendy loft like we prefer now

*if I'll become addicted to caffeine for the first 6 months

*if we'll have twins

*if baby Bird will be kinda chubby :) (I kinda hope so)

*if I will ever give birth or if we will just adopt

*if we'll give in and go to Disney before our kids are out of strollers (like we promised one 

another we would never do)

*if our family will look alike--even just the same expressions or smile--no matter how 

many are adopted or biological

*if I'll want to stay home instead of work

*if I still have a long wait ahead of me

Stress levels

As many of you may know, I enjoy planning my life according to my specifications (aka, I'm a control freak).  Although I've often wondered why God would choose to allow the struggle of infertility for someone like me, I am starting to believe that it is precisely because I long to be in control.  Because with infertility, I have NO control.  None. Nada. Zip. Zero.  Sure, I can choose my doctor and I can choose the procedure, but I have no say in the ultimate results. 

On an earlier blog, I wrote that the level of stress during infertility treatments is similar to the level of stress of someone with cancer or another long-term illness.  I've listed some sources for such information below:

 http://www.drmalpani.com/book/chapter32.html

http://www.integris-health.com/INTEGRIS/en-US/Specialties/FertilityInstitute/YourFertilityJourney/Stress.htm

http://infertility.about.com/od/copingwithinfertility/u/copingstress.htm

Many fertility doctor Web sites provide such interesting and useful information.

I have recently come to accept this level of stress as a reality.  I assumed that because I have a wonderful doctor, a supportive family, kind friends, and viable treatment options, I should be able to "just relax" and enjoy the ride.  But instead, my anxiety has only increased as I've walked further into the world of medical technology.  And you know what?  That's okay.  It's normal, and instead of trying to push aside my questions and concerns with a chipper attitude, I am learning to accept and even embrace the fact that I wish I didn't have to do this, that this was never my ideal or even a happy second-choice, that I long for the outcome all the while hoping I might forgo the physical necessities that provide it.  However, I believe and hope that this is God's plan for us, that He is honored as we walk this difficult road, waiting as He controls the outcome for us.

Tonight

Forgive me for not writing for the past week. Although I'm out of school for the summer, my stress has ramped up a bit as we begin to make decisions regarding fertility. Our new doctor has begun scheduling new tests and procedures for the next month, so I'm sure I will learn more fun facts about the crazy world that is my body. :)

I will try to keep the blog updated as we proceed, but I find that often a new step, test, or procedure is an emotional one--more so than I expected. I appreciate all of your prayers for peace, wisdom, and direction as we jump into this summer adventure.

Also, I found another adoption agency, and we are looking at Bulgaria and Armenia through them. Their Web site is located at http://www.hopscotchadoptions.org/pages/armenia.html if you are interested in a sneak peek. Hope to be in touch again soon.

Quick Post

Hello all,

Just wanted to write a quick post letting you know that I received an e-mail from the adoption agency we are most interested in.  We do NOT need to own our residence in order to adopt from Bulgaria.  That was the only known obstacle in our way, so the roads seem clear now to go ahead when we're ready.  Yeah!  Oh--and Tim told me last night that Bulgaria sounds like our best option.  2 yeahs!

Fertility Options

For those curious about the great wide world of fertility, I thought I would take an entry or two to explain some of the options available.

The first option is to take a medicine called Clomid and to chart basil body temperature and hormone levels in order to help achieve ovulation.  Couples perform the rest of baby-making on their own.  This was the easiest and cheapest (and my favorite) option.  We began this last May and tried three rounds of Clomid before Hurricane Ike happened to our Galveston mansion and pulled us off the baby-track for a few months.  Before we began this process, we had "tried" to get pregnant on our own for about a year and a half (although we were totally in denial that we were trying. But, as "Marley and Me" so poetically states, "if you've pulled the goalie, then you're trying.").  Specialists recommend trying for at least a year.

The second option--the one that we tried in April--is IUI, or IntraUterine Insemination.  There are two basic types of IUI.  The first medical option is for the woman to take Clomid to help ensure ovulation within a certain time period.  The second option is for the woman to "shoot herself up" with tons of other hormones.  We chose the latter.  I think I had 4-5 different injection cycles/medications to take during that month.  I was amazed when the medicine arrived in a large white box, and I was further amazed when I was actually able to fill a syringe and inject myself.  Necessity enables the conquering of daunting tasks.  Hormone levels tests help the doctor determine the most likely time of ovulation, and the male's "collection" is inserted in the hope that egg and sperm will meet and make a beautiful new bundle.  IUI has a 25-35% success rate when all goes well, and doctors will usually recommend no more than four procedures.  They run about $2000+, depending on insurance and cost of medication.  Although the success rate seems low, it actually allows couples to have the same odds per cycle as traditional fertile couples.

The third option--and the more aggressive option--is InVitro fertilization.  From what I understand, the woman is asked to take even more hormones and be subjected to even more tests in an effort to ensure that her body produces healthy eggs and is ready for implantation.  Once several follicles are ready (usually around day 13-14 of the cycle), the woman is placed under a mild anesthesia while the doctor extracts as many eggs as possible.  The eggs are then shipped to the lab where they are either placed in a petri-dish with the sperm, in hopes that they will flirt and hook up :), or the specialists actually chooses one sperm to inject into one egg in order to leave less to chance.  The embryos grow for about three days and then two (or more, depending on the quality of egg, age and health of patient, craziness of the woman/doctor, etc...) is transferred back into the woman, and she is placed on bed rest so as not to jostle any babies out.  jk, but I don't really know why she's placed on bed rest, unless to help ensure implantation of the embryo(s) into the womb.  Success rate for IVF is about 60%, depending on age, quality of egg/sperm, etc... and costs is $10,000+.

That said, no announcements as to what we will be doing in the upcoming months.  Still speaking with doctors and performing tests at present.  Fertility is certainly a long (and expensive, if you haven't noticed from my other blogs :)) process.  Hope to have baby news--fertility and/or adoption--by the end of summer or by the fall at the latest.  I did, however, want to offer some insight into what we have been learning and pondering for the past few months.  And, I'd like to make an obvious comment as my conclusion to all of this medical babble: Babies are indeed a miracle.  Thankfully, God is a miracle worker.

Money, Money, Money

Thanks to Donald Trump, the song "Money, Money, Money" has been made popular to a new generation. It's also the theme that's been ringing through my head as we edge closer and closer to the big idea of advanced fertility treatments and adoption. In honor of this reality, I've listed a couple ideas that cause me a moment of amusement as I watch our bank account ebb and flow.

*Instead of bragging about achievements in the never-ending-my-kid-is-better-than-your-kid-game, I think I'll just make my child wear a badge that says, "My baby costs more than your baby."
*Instead of blue or pink wallpaper, I'm considering covering one entire wall with oh-so-lovely black and white receipts. (Besides, it'd be a good way for baby to learn math early.)
*And instead of considering twins as an overwhelming option, I would just consider them my best-ever "two-for-one" deal :)

Let me know if you think of any other benefits of spending tens of thousands of dollars on baby Bird--besides the fact that there will actually be a beautiful baby Bird someday. I know that's so worth trading in my shopping money for a while!

Our Diaper List

Most people have heard of "The Bucket List," a list of things to do/places to go before one "kicks the bucket."  Tim and I, however, have added a new twist to this idea and have instead made our diaper list, a list of things to do/places to go before one has to change diapers/carry diapers everywhere.  I thought I'd share my diaper list today, since I am hoping (God-willing) to be pregnant with that little diaper-needing bundle in July.

1. Go to D.C. one more time--March 2009 DONE!

2. Have a mixed drink or glass of wine at least once a week

3. Pedicures just to pamper myself

4. Write my next book (at least the rough draft)

5. Workout and lose weight (10 pounds off so far!) before I have to pack on the pounds

6. A night out at the Melting Pot (kind of goes against the "lose weight" point, I know)

And if we don't conceive in July and adopt first instead, I will be able to add "Trip to Disney World" (hopefully) and "Trip to Europe (or Asia?) to pick up baby."  There's always a bright lining.  Just need to search for it sometimes. :)

Friends, please post if you have any additional ideas or a diaper list/bucket list of your own.

Summer Sun

Today, I celebrate the last day with my students, and although I am thrilled to be finished with another school year, saying goodbye to students who have annoyed and frustrated and humored me (and become absolutely lovable in the process) is always bittersweet.  However, I am looking forward to the summer and to the potential it holds.

Tim and I plan to visit regularly with our new fertility doctor over this next month in the hope of starting a new treatment cycle in July.  Simultaneously, I hope to continue the process of choosing our country and adoption agency, so we will be prepared for adoption whether we start the process in the fall or in a year or two.

I am also hoping to find hours and hours of time to write this summer, keeping in mind that it could be my last summer as a footloose, fancy-free non-mom.  Such a good reminder that while I wait, I should choose to enjoy every moment.  I know I'll sometimes miss my moments of solitude when little feet are running circles around me.  And if you're reading this, my blogging friends, please let me know about your summer plans.  I'd love to touch base and get together! (For J: California here I come ;) I wish)

Expecting . . . Hope

The conference call offered further insight into the Bulgarian program, but one fact was a little disappointing.  Bulgaria requires that adoptive parents own the home in which they live, and as many of you know, we have a delightful seaside beach cottage in a tropical locale with our name on it (insert sarcastic laugh here).  I asked the program coordinator if it would be enough for us to own a home, even if we are currently renting it out.  She said that our mailing address must match the deed to our property.

Although I already knew the answer, I asked Tim if hiccups like this would just be part of the process.  Of course.  For now, I guess this leaves me wondering what God is up to.  I could blame the stalls and unexpected news on bad timing, the economy, our house-buying naivety, or mere coincidence, but so much of our journey has been so orchestrated that there must be a plan (and I know it’s not my original proposal).

So, we wait.  I mean, really, how wrong would it be if I started a blog entitled, “Our Waiting Room” and then everything worked out perfectly within a few months? J No, my friends, I think this blog will be around for a few years, until all of my little ones have been brought near from across the globe and are tucked in safe and sound in our (new?—maybe now J) home, and I’m a changed woman who has learned the intricate art of patiently waiting with expectant hope.

Comparisons

"Don't compare our journey to someone else's."--Tim said this to me last night after I finished telling him about news of a recent friend's pregnancy.  Inevitably, even happy news such as this carries with it questions such as, "Why hasn't that happened to me yet?  Am I doing something wrong?  Would I not make a good mother?" Logic and time have enabled me to brush away these questions quickly by now, but Tim's words helped as well.

At the risk of seeming simplistic, I felt like I understood in that moment that my journey is my journey.  It's unfair for me to judge another person's as easier or more difficult.  Instead, I must accept the place that God has brought me, trusting that His timing is perfect and that His purposes for me are good.  With this trust comes the realization that regardless of the longevity of  the struggle and regardless of the disappointments along the way, the journey will lead me to God's perfect plan in the end.

Choices, Choices

I talked to an old friend over the weekend, and she told me she was reading the blog every day--my biggest (and only) fan, I'm sure :)--(Thanks, A!). But in case others out there are reading too, I thought I would take this opportunity to explain a few details about where Tim and I are at in the adoption process.

It's taken months for us to arrive at a place where we feel almost ready to make a final decision regarding the country and type of adoption.  Tim asked me to wait until June to finally ask him where he feels led, and I've got a count down (7 days!) until I can "pop" this important question.  So, I will preface this entry by saying that any of these thoughts and plans are subject to change.  I decided at  the beginning of this whole journey through infertility that I would allow myself to change my mind as much as needed.

We have explored three different adoption options: domestic, foster-to-adopt, and international.  All three of them afford different pros and cons, and our decision is certainly not the right fit  for everyone.  Instead, we are seeking to find the route that makes the most sense for our family.  Tim and I decided that domestic adoption through an agency would not be the best fit for us at present because in the state of Texas a birth mother cannot sign adoption papers for at least 48 hours, thus leaving her the option--a well-founded option--of changing her mind.  Please note that research shows that this is not a common problem; however, we felt that after ALL of the uncertainties of infertility, this was not an uncertainty that we want to intentionally face.  

Second, we seriously considered foster-to-adopt, and this may still be an option for us in the future.  However, if we adopt our first child, we would prefer a solid time-table for a baby, and unfortunately, the foster-care system does not offer this.  It might be three months (if we were extremely lucky) and it might be a couple of years.  Again, with the uncertain time-table we've already faced with infertility, we prefer to have a more-solid plan. (Though we attempt to realize that nothing is truly certain).  

Thus, we are left with the beautiful option of international adoption, which I feel is fitting for the desires God has placed in me.  I actually felt the call to adopt during a trip to an orphanage in Mexico as I saw a baby who had been abandoned in a sewer because she had a cleft palette and a club foot.  I left that trip with a desire to adopt that has only grown as the years have progressed.  

I felt a bit overwhelmed as we first started exploring the realm of international adoption.  Realistically, there is an entire world out there, and we are supposed to find the one (or two or three) children for our family???  Glad that God is ultimately in charge.  So, as I began researching, I found that about half the countries were closed to Tim and I because of  our age (requirement: 30 years to our 27 years).  Another few carried financial concerns because of the enormous cost ($40,000-$60,000).  Others had trip-travel times of a month or more, which would be difficult since we both work.  That left a handful from which to explore.  

An important feature I then looked for were trends in adoption rates, and after literally months of research, I am most interested in Bulgaria.  They have recently (as of 2008) begun processing numerous applications, and they are even considering lowering the adoption age from 18 months to 6 months.  Now, I'm on the quest for an agency, and I hope I've found it with Little Miracles.  If anyone has any info regarding this country or agency, I'd be happy to hear advice.  Also, if you'd like to see a video of Bulgarian children at an orphanage in Sofia (the capital  city), here's a great link  http://www.littlemiracles.org/index.php?page=programs&progid=11 .

We have a conference call about this program on Wednesday evening, so I will try to update with any additional information after that.  It's all a process to find our precious baby.  Thanks for all your prayers and support!

"I will call her Sarah"

Because my siblings and I are so spread out in age (me: 27, sis Lindsay: 21, sis Katie: 16, bro Cody: 13), I have great memories of babies and children in the home.  One memory that came to mind yesterday was right before my youngest sister was born.  I was eleven and Lindsay was five.  Lindsay loved stuffed animals and she loved the name "Sarah."  Thus, ALL of her beloved stuffed animals were called by her beloved name.  (Sarah the Sea Otter--from Monterey Bay Aquarium--was her favorite.)  So, when my mom began discussing names for her  third daughter, Lindsay was quick to tell her feelings on the matter.  "You may name her Katie, mommy, but I will call her Sarah."

If my life was a book, I would consider that moment a foreshadow of a dear friend who would become my surrogate (only-slightly) older sister (Sorry, Sarah :)).  She is practical and loyal and hilarious, and she, along with my family, has been a constant source of encouragement for Tim and I as we navigate the scary journey of infertility.  She allows me to discuss babies, babies, babies.  She listens to me change my mind and then change it again.  Bulgaria, IUI, Thailand, In Vitro, Kazakhstan, Clomid, foster care. She offers insight I hadn't yet considered.  And above all, she doesn't judge me regardless of the decisions I make.  Thank you to all the dear friends who continue to support us in the journey.  Your words of encouragement are so appreciated.  

Toddlers to Teens

I am a high school teacher, and at times as I teach my class, I have a sudden realization that the cute, tiny bundle for which I wait will one day grow into one of these taller-than-me, hilariously obnoxious seventeen-year-old boys or one of the beautiful, talkative, heartwarming sixteen-year-old girls. Amazing how that happens.

Thus, with the school year coming to a close (and this "oh-my-gosh-that-baby-will-grow-up-one-day" realization fresh on my mind), I'd like to dedicate this blog entry to a few of my favorite (or at least most-memorable) teaching moments over the past few years. (Names of schools and students have been omitted to protect the innocent.)

*The day one of my senior boys dropped a metal bucket from the second story onto another boy's head. The injured party ran up to me, blood dripping from his head and asked if he could go to the nurse. Really, did you have to ask? He dripped all the way across the building but was most upset about getting a red stain on his clean shoes.

*The entire month that one of my students who was born with only one arm convinced me that his other arm had been bitten off in a shark attack. Thanks for that.

*The Open House Night at which the parents arrived one-by-one and noticed the other parents already sitting in the room. They kept exclaiming, "I didn't know he was in here too. We asked that they not be put in the same room. I'm so sorry!" I didn't understand at first. A month later, the apologies were well-deserved.

*The day I walked into the room and asked a student to complete a task. As I turned to go, I heard her mutter under her breath, "She is ruining my life." Yep. That's my job sometimes.

*The day one of the only black students in the school convinced an aging (and somewhat eccentric) librarian to put up a sign proclaiming that "Today is Hug A Black Friend Day." I had to explain the problem with this.

*The day the senior boys super-glued all of the locks in the school, so no one could get inside the buildings.

Just a few of my faves. I'm sure more will come to me later on. (Teacher friends/aka those who work with kids: feel free to add your own delightful moments!)

Also, a shout out (I know I'm a nerd) today to Tim--five years ago today I committed to love you and walk with you through highs and lows. I cherish every moment. Here's praying for 55+ more. Love you.

Bulgarian Babies

I am a planner & a control freak.  Not a surprise to many people who know me.  So, imagine my personality type combined with the uncertain future of fertility.  One doctor says we have a chance at conceiving one way; another says with certainty that the option would be a waste of money.  One adoption agency touts a two-year wait for a toddler; another claims just a year for the same age. With all of these choices and uncertainties, it is  easy to become overwhelmed--but that's where my control-freakness helps keeps me sane.  I always have a plan and an end-goal in mind.

However, I also must realize that my plan may fail, change, or be adjusted in some way.  An option that seems hopeful one day may be denied as a possibility the next month.  Likewise, a "never-would-agree-to" possibility may seem feasible in the light of new information (or new desperation).  Thus, I attempt to remain  open to whatever plan God has called T & I to, and I strive to allow "my plan" to morph into "thy will be done."  Whether that's tiny-baby-powder-scented-infants or toddling-two-year-old Bulgarian babies.  I know that either option will be the perfect plan in the end.

Today I feel . . .

Today I feel happy again.  There are several reasons I feel happy today: We met with another doctor who offered some hopeful news, though we are still considering options at present.  Also, I'm sure some of  the "crazy-woman hormones" (that caused me to yell or cry over insignificant matters and at the same time think, "what am I doing? what am I saying? why is poor Tim looking at me like that again?") have washed out of my system by now.  And, finally, I'm sure another reason I feel happier again is because I'm back at school--post swine-flu-scare--and I've had time to absorb the fact that the last fertility treatment didn't work.  It's hard to explain the let-down that came with that knowledge.  I don't imagine that it is as devastating as a miscarriage, but it must be a similar loss of the expectation and hope that accompany a potential new life.

So, today I am looking forward to . . .

*an evening spent eating dinner out and talking with T

*followed by a quick workout (as opposed to the 2.5 hour workout T will get while watching the Rockets)

*and tomorrow a nutrition class with a friend (after my eating out the night before...hmmm...)

*a lovely day spent with my mom just to celebrate her and finally

*a Sunday of rest (and maybe seeing mom once more) while T heads to the Rockets game (go yao!)

It strikes me as humorous to see my weekend list above because who really knows what God has in store for any of us at any moment?  But, thankfully, he is with us in the big and small, the amazing and the mundane.  I am often comforted by the truth that the Psalmist says, when he states, "My times are in Your hands."  How true.

Just Try and Relax

Just Try and Relax . . . the statement seems a bit oxymoronic, doesn't it?  After all, if I'm trying anything, I'm certainly not relaxing, and if I'm relaxing, what could I possibly be trying to do?

And yet, it's what I hear (and tell myself) often as I proceed through this saga of injections, tests and ultrasounds coupled with multiple adoption agency sites full of pictures of babies in  Korea, Thailand, Russia, Bulgaria, and the list goes on . . .  

"Stress doesn't help fertility chances . . . just try and relax."

"Don't think about it anymore . . . just try and relax."

"Open up a bottle of wine and let it happen . . . just try and relax."

The words echo in my mind again and again.

Last night, I read an interesting statement on a fertility doctor's Web site.  The statement basically said that the level of stress in fertility patients is similar to the level of stress cancer patients endure as they go through treatment.  I read another statement posted on a fertility blog in which a contributor wrote that no one would ever tell a patient with a potentially incurable illness, just try and relax.  I am by no means claiming that fertility and cancer issues are the same; however, the stress of visiting doctor after doctor, the frustration with a body that will not perform as designed, and the disappointment (and almost inevitability) of bad news is intense and perhaps slightly comparable.

Because of the high stress level, I realize that I must demand less of myself.  I must allow myself moments to cry, the opportunity to say no to helping with an event, and permission to feel however I happen to feel in that instance.  Otherwise, I will live in constant stress and be forced to keep convincing myself to "just try and relax."

Babies, Babies Everywhere

One day I woke up and babies were swarming around me.  Before that day, I occasionally noticed them and smiled sweetly with my arms crossed (no, I don't want to hold your baby).  But after that day of swarming babies, I saw them everywhere.  As I glanced around a restaurant, my eyes traveled from child to child to child, some tiny, some chubby, some with large ears, some with toothless grins, some screaming, some giggling, some cuddling, and the list goes on because the kids never end!

These children are such a blessing to watch, but at times the mother's can be a bit insensitive as they complain or comment on their little gifts.  So, for those women out there who are blessed with this abundance of babies, babies everywhere, please be aware that some women are not so fortunate.  Some women expect and hope and pray just as much--or more than--you ever did and instead receive the ministry of disappointment to teach their souls.  

Because of this inevitable disappointment for someone fighting for a child, please, ladies, let us choose our words wisely.  As an example of what not to say, I'd like to offer a couple of my favorite comments from well-meaning, lovely women who were only trying to encourage.  The first was from an acquaintace who had tried to have a baby for about five months--yes, a whole five months!--and claimed that she had almost given up hope.  She then proceeded to inform me that when she finally trusted God, she found out she was pregnant.  She hoped that her message would encourage me, but the implication seemed to me to be "Are you trusting God?  Are you sure?"  The second was from another woman who told me about her friend who stressed and struggled to get pregnant.  She was 21 and had been trying for 6 months before she found out she was pregnant.  Please, use sensitivity when speaking with women who have struggled YEARS with such issues.

Such comments are offered with good intentions, but I just wonder at times if we (and yes, I'm including myself here) think about our words before we offer condolences to the hurting.  Perhaps it would be best to sit in silence and mourn with our aching friends rather than offering ignorant words like "your maternal hormones will surely kick in if you start adoption."  Maternal hormones????  What are those???? My fertility doctor hasn't yet mentioned those as a treatment option, but if she ever does, I'm sure I'll try them.  But for now, I wait and try to learn from my own experiences about when to speak and when to remain silent.

Waiting

During this past month, I’ve considered writing a blog for two reasons: first, for my own therapy (which is sorely needed) and second, because of my hunch that many women are struggling through the same emotional turmoil and mood swings (thank you, hormone shots) and might benefit from reading about a woman who might be just a little crazier than themselves.  

I’ve been trying to have a child for almost two-and-a-half years, and I have been fighting for a child for about a year.  I make the distinction because my husband and I decided to “pull the goalie” (as the movie “Marley and Me” states so delicately) but claimed at the time that “we weren’t really trying” to have a baby.  I’m not sure who we thought we were fooling.  After a year and a half of failed attempts even though “we weren’t really trying,” I went to the doctor, knowing by that time that I had PCOS and wondering if my husband might have issues as well.  He did.  Since then, we have been through the Clomid challenge, numerous tests, and IUI.  During that time, we also began looking seriously into adoption.

Today, I feel no closer to a having a child than I did a year ago or two-and-a-half years ago, except that I know more about fertility and adoption, and I have practiced, though not yet perfected, the art of waiting.  I hope that in these pages I may express some of the roller coaster moments I have experienced and perhaps encourage women in their own personal waiting rooms.