Attitude Adjustment

Some people wear their emotions on their sleeves, while I, apparently, carry mine in my hair. Anytime I am faced with emotional distress, or great life changes, I bust out the scissors or the hair dye.

High School graduation: cut 8 inches and black low-lights
19th Birthday: box dye black hair
1st year living on my own: blonde highlights
Boyfriend left on mission: platinum blonde
Break-up: return to redhead
Break-up, again (don't ask! lol): chop to chin
Happily married: grew hair out- longest it's ever been!
Miscarriage: emotional box dye job that, thankfully, didn't really go cherry black!

So, as I faced starting Femara again, I found myself falling into a black hole that I couldn't seem to get out of. I had worked so hard to find happiness after our loss, and I really was content for so long. But starting the process to get pregnant again just knocked me right out of that happy zone. I was feeling so depressed and my attitude completely sucked! I was grumpy and whined about my stupid ovaries incessantly. And, if I am honest, with my due date fast-approaching I am reminded that our baby isn't coming, and I don't think that will ever stop hurting.

When I woke up Sunday morning I did not want to go to church. I felt so tired from the Femara and I just wanted to pull the covers back up over my head, cry my eyes out and go back to sleep, buuuut I had done that the Sunday before. I forced myself out of bed and we walked into the foyer, late, just as the speaker was beginning her talk. We sat down, and immediately I knew that was where I needed to be. If sweet Camille had written that talk for anyone, it was for me. She spoke about trials and enduring in Faith; all things I knew. She even referenced a talk by Thomas S. Monson that I have read and used multiple times, but it was all hitting me like brand new information! My hardened shell began to crack... Oh, the Lord knows us so well. He knows just what we need to hear and he knows when we need a good butt kicking.

Well, more than ever, I was absolutely sick and tired of feeling crappy and sucking the happiness out of our house. I spent the rest of the day fighting my rotten attitude and trying to figure out how to get myself out of this funk. By Tuesday, I knew I needed a major attitude adjustment, so what else seemed more appropriate than a haircut?! Thank the Lord for good friends with home salons! My dear Courtney saved me in my desperation for change.

I lost 10 inches of hair and found my HOPE!

Cheers to being happy again!
XO

Nausea and Hot Flashes and Narcolepsy, OH my!

Nausea and hot flashes and narcolepsy, Oh My!

Yep. Welcome back, Femara.
Heeeeeerrrre we go, again!

Even though its happening, I still can't believe it. I can't believe we have to do this, again. I didn't think that this would be the hardest of all things to accept, but it is. And now, more than before, I just can't seem to accept that my stupid ovaries really don't work. (Man, I hate those buggers.)

I guess, I read one too many blogs or post-D&C forum posts about women who tried for X years to get pregnant, lost the pregnancy at X weeks, and miraculously got pregnant X months later on their own. Suddenly, I was creating imaginary, fairy tale, surprise pregnancy stories in my head. I knew it was silly, and would probably end in my great disappointment, but what can I say? I'm a dreamer. There are upsides and downsides to being so positive. The biggest downside is the disappointment.

Nevertheless, here we are.
Dreaming big, again.
Hoping, again.
Taking pills, again.
Peeing on sticks, again.
Getting poked with needles, again.
Going through it all, again...
Because we hope it will work, again!
Scared, because what if it's lost, again?

I'm filled with hope, because my only other option is to be filled with fear- fear of it working and being lost again, fear that it won't work at all. But I know I can't give in to those fears. I live in hope, because I tried living in fear and it nearly killed my soul. Living in hope is the only way to survive all of this. With hope, the savior walks beside me, lifts me up when I start to drag my feet and carries me when I cannot walk on my own. So, to keep him along my side, I continue with hope. Hope that, eventually, someday, somehow we will have a little one here with us. Hope that someday I'll see my husband holding a baby that is our own. Hope that I'll hear a little voice call, "Mommy!" and I'll be the one who answers. 

Femara is our hope, our chance.
And, really, being tired, nauseous and hot is no big sacrifice.

I'm  armed with caffeine, a fan and FAITH.
XO.

Not bitter. Just annoyed.

I promise, I'm not being bitter. I really did give that up...

Having a pity party isn't being bitter. It's just throwing a quick tantrum and then moving on. So, that's all I'm doing. I just need to throw a few things, have a fit, and then I will be just fine ;)

In taking slow steps back to the trial and error of infertility, I asked my doctor's office to draw my blood to see at what level my progesterone is hanging out these days. Of course, I knew what the answer would be: my pesky progesterone has returned to the low, single digits (must be double digits to maintain a pregnancy, e.g. my progesterone was a 40 when I got pregnant with Boston)

Was I surprised? No.
Was I outraged? Not really "outraged," just reallly reeeeeallly annoyed.

I think what is even harder than accepting that Tyler and I will not have a baby at the end of July, is accepting that I have to go through all this crap again! I feel like going back to the infertility clinic is doing a walk of shame of the worst kind, like worse than a bridesmaid walking home in an unzipped dress with one shoe on. I was so excited and confident about my pregnancy with Boston, I walked out of that office like they would never see me again, "Peace out ladies! I'm dooooone!" I just can't believe I have to go back.

After I accepted the loss, I got my head wrapped around this wild idea of my body learning to do what it should and miraculously getting pregnant on our own. Now that I know that isn't happening, I feel so defeated... and mad.

I'm mad at my stupid ovaries and my stupid uterus. I'm mad that they just can't get into gear and work like they should. I even yelled at them. I told them they sucked and, unless they wanted to experience my wrath, they should get their act together and start working. They responded by giving me a period... how kind. Of course, of alllll they things they can do! *major, teenager style eye roll*

ANYWAY. I threw my fit, and I'm moving on. Tantrum over, I swear.


Wish me luck with my ovaries!
XO

My first Mother's Day

Well, my first Mother's Day was definitely different than I would have imagined at the start of the year. Everything about this year is entirely different than what we expected when 2014 began.

I had imagined celebrating my first Mother's Day 7 months pregnant, impatiently awaiting the arrival of our little Baby Boston. But instead, I woke up with the most clear reminder that I was NOT pregnant. (I've decided that starting your period on Mother's Day is the most painful slap to the face there is.)

I had been having the most fun visit in CA with my family for my first nephew's first birthday. I was too busy having a blast to think about what the morning of Mother's Day would feel like. I didn't give it much thought. But then, I woke up and realized how hard it felt. I had my moment as my parents drove me to the airport. After opening my first two Mother's Day cards from my Mom and sister-in-law and broke down in the car. I kept my sunglasses on and cried in the airport while I waited for my flight, and I cried when the JetBlue flight attendant said over the intercom, "We would like to wish all the Mothers on our flight today a very happy Mother's Day."

Ty picked me up from the airport, and as soon as I got in the car he handed me a card and gift, and said "Happy Mother's Day, babe." Tears again! but happy tears. He thought of me. He looked at me and I knew he didn't see me as broken. He looks at me and sees Boston's Mommy. My heart was overwhelmed. Tyler King is too amazing. I can't believe I am so lucky!

I don't hate Mother's Day. It is a hard day for infertiles and those who have suffered loss, but I think Mother's Day is one of the best holidays. Mothers should be celebrated for all they do, how they serve and sacrifice for their families. And I'm grateful, even though I don't yet have any children here on earth to celebrate my motherhood, that my sweet husband, family, and friends made sure to remind me that I am still a mother. I gave Boston a home for 3 months inside my body. He became part of me, and my heart grew with more love than I knew it could possess. I am his Mommy, and I get to celebrate Mother's Day because of those 3 months that changed my life forever.  

My love and prayers go to all of those struggling to start families and those living in the wake of loss. Motherhood doesn't solely apply to those physically caring for children. It is a celebration of women everywhere! Mothers, Grandmothers, Aunts, Sisters, Cousins and Friends who influence and love any children in their lives. 

I hope you all had a Happy Mother's Day!
XO