SHOCK AND AWE.

So, my period was due three days ago. I haven't even let myself get excited about the fact that it was late, because I knew it was coming. All the signs were there: oily skin, crampy abdomen, sore breasts. It was like mother nature was trying to torture me by dragging it all out somehow.


This morning I wake up thinking, "good STARS just hurry up and start already! How long is this gonna take?"


Then, my brain kicks in. Oh yes, that annoying, obsessive Kristi-style worrying. I haven't peed on a single stick all month. So really I have no clue what is going on with my cycle. I don't even know if I actually ovulated this month! Obviously something is wrong. If I'm not having a period, then I'm definitely not ovulating, and if I'm not ovulating then I'll *never* get pregnant.


So, I wander into the bathroom, annoyed at the thought that today is Saturday so it will be two more days before Dr. Garcia's office opens and I can call and tell him: SEE I told you something was wrong, now I'm not even having a period!


Thinking that, of course I'll need "proof" of my statement when I call, I dig out my gigantic trusty bag of sticks and pull out a pregnancy test. Only the 7,452nd test I've peed on over the last eleven months. Or at least it feels like that many.


I've become so adept at the whole pee-on-a-stick-process (which is a true artform, by the way), that I can literally do it without even looking. And would you believe, that when I finally got done washing my hands and grumbling about my misery, I glanced down and saw a second line?


A SECOND LINE!


I blinked several times thinking surely my eyes are playing a cruel trick on me. But the longer it sat, the the more clearly I saw it. In complete disbelief I walked to the top of the stairs, and called down to James "ummm, could you come up here please? Like RIGHT NOW!"

Before he's even in the room I'm waiving that stupid stick in his face. We are stunned. Overjoyed. Terrified. All at the same time.


Thank you Jesus.

The wretched week of sadness

Oh yes, all the ladies know just what I'm referring to. Men, if you're hyper-sensitive to girly-stuff then please avert your eyes:

I started my *&$%@! period again.

I can't even begin to describe the heartbreak. I'm so over it. Every single day, I wake up and pee of some type of freaking stick. On cycle days 6-14 it's an ovulation stick. On cycle days 20-27 it's a lab-grade home pregnancy test. Some time between days 25 and 27 I usually collapse in anger and disappointment, throw the stupid thing across the bathroom, and bury my face in bed.

I have been doing this for TEN solid months now. And I'm done.

I have been begging James since May -- please, I need a break. The emotional toll is too high. Every month I get my hopes up ... the anticipation, the excitement, the hopefulness, and then inevitably .... the crushing disappointment. Months ago when I decided to name this blog Riding the Rollercoaster, I had no clue just how accurate that would be. I feel like I am on a never-ending rollercoaster of ups and downs. After a while, it becomes more than a normal person can handle. I WANT TO GET OFF THIS RIDE.

I need some time to relax. I need to throw away the calendar. To ditch the ovulation kits and pregnancy tests. I need my sanity back.

Hence, my repeated requests over the last several months for a "break". Just for six months? Three months? Something? I need to stop obsessing and get my focus back on life again. But my husband .... my dear sweet husband so desperate, so longing for a baby .... keeps begging me to give it one more month.

Well not anymore. I officially give up.

6 months and counting....

We are officially loosing our minds. Months of precise charting, ovulation kits, and calendar obsessing have come and gone. Still no baby. I am starting to think we are broken.

We knew this process would be a rollercoaster. That was a given from day 1. But I never expected the anxiety and overwhelming worry to be focused on the simple process of conception. Though, if there's anything I've learned over the past six months, it is that conceiving is anything but "simple".

We began fertility testing this month. Dr. Garcia has been running a series of blood work on certain days of my cycle to check hormone levels. So far everything is coming back within the normal range, so Monday he recommended that we have a semen analysis done on James. Fabulous, 'cause the poor guy isn't stressed out enough as is. Once that is complete he will begin more invasive testing on me.

So today I sit, on Mother's Day no less, crying and wondering why I'm again surprised that my plan and God's plan are two very different things. He has been so patient with me, teaching me this lesson repeatedly over the last two years. Of course, being the stubborn one, I've insisted on learning it the hard way. I know that He is in complete control of this, and I know that He has a plan. I guess I'm just grieving over the fact that it doesn't seem to be the same as mine. Once again. It's a bitter realization.

Adding to the sting is the fact that no less than SIX friends of mine have become pregnant since we began trying to conceive. No, it's not a contest. Yes, I am genuinely happy for them. It's not so much jealousy as it is a frustration that most people seem to take this for granted. They have no clue how lucky they are. Most are still in that blissful bubble of ignorance, having no clue what it feels like to struggle with infertility, or to hold your dead baby in your arms. I lived in that bubble once upon a time .... there are days when I wish more than anything that I could just go back there. To believing that bad things only happened to bad people and that pregnancy and childbirth were "natural" things that the body easily accomplished according to its design. I long to be one of those people .... like the friend who rolled her eyes and complained to me recently that any time her husband so much as WALKED passed her, she gets pregnant! Oh, pity, what a problem to have. Or the young woman I counseled at the PRC last week who's seeking her third abortion, and laments to me that its not her fault she's so darn fertile, what else is she to do? I find myself in these situations, listening to these complaints, and I have to really guard my heart against bitterness. I may smile and nod in empathy, but inside I'm wanting to scream.

And then there's the well-meaning inquiries that come from folks living in the bubble. Like the check-out girl at Publix yesterday who found herself in deep conversation with Gracie. She turns and asks me, "how old is she?". I respond, "she's four". Now, at this point, I could think of seven hundred ways for this lady to respond .... something about four is a fun age .... or oh wow I bet she really keeps you busy ..... anything. But instead, this total stranger feels the need to say,

"Oh, she's FOUR? Well it's about time you have another one, don't you think?"

So there I stood in the middle of Publix, trying to figure out how to respond. Am I supposed to say, "yeah, well, we DID have another one, and he died, and now despite months and months of trying we can't seem to get pregnant again. But thanks for asking!!" ..... SERIOUSLY HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO ANSWER THIS??? My mind scrambled for a moment but could only come up with - eyes down, head nod, "mmmhmmm", grab receipt, dash to the car before bursting out in tears.

Obviously this poor lady meant absolutely no harm with her comment. She's just in the bubble and she truly has no clue. She's certainly not the only one -- I am pelted with similar "hints" from people all over the place, well-meaning acquaintances and curious family, and now total strangers. When I take the time to think about it, I know I'm probably guilty of doing to same to someone else back when I lived in the bubble. But never again. Now I know better. I will never assume that someone has "only" one child by choice, or no children by choice. We have no idea what type of obstacles someone else may be facing.

See, the Lord is teaching me all kinds of things through this less-than-lovely experience. Maybe if I hurry up and learn everything quickly He'll let me off the hook with this one?

Sinking in

Well, so we're not pregnant. Yet. I must admit I was a bit surprised, I really thought we'd knocked it out of the park this month. lol. I'm okay with the negative result, maybe even a bit relieved to tell you the truth ... just worried that the more time that passes means more time for my head to really kick it into overdrive. I'm already thinking to myself that I don't want to get pregnant in January, b/c that would most likely mean delivering in early September around Isaac's birthday. I know that's silly, but that time is sacred to us in a way. And it's really difficult to imagine trying to mix celebrating one child's birthday and another child's death day all in the same week. The emotional complications exhaust me just thinking about it.

Our Christmas was wonderful, though the annual marathon of running from one place to the next was still stressful and tiring. But we enjoyed it nonetheless. We were really hoping to have some "big news" to share with our families that day, but since this month is a no-go, James and I instead secretly traded grins and giggles at the thought of having a little bundle in our arms this time next Christmas. Lord willing.

The last few days have been spent recovering from the busy-ness of the Holiday, and doing some work around the house. Friday night we finally moved Gracie out of her crib (though it was converted to a toddler bed), and into a "big girl" bed. I have to say it was a little sad for Mommy to realize her baby is officially not a baby anymore! And it was also hard moving the crib into the empty room in our house affectionately known as "the box room". It's basically full of boxes and junk. I had cleaned it out and began getting it ready for a nursery while I was pregnant with Isaac. But after he died I was too disgusted to look at that room. We began throwing junk in there and keeping the door closed. Many times since then I've had intentions of cleaning it out again simply because it's become an eyesore in its current state, but never could bring myself to do it. But this weekend I couldn't put it off any longer. We got the new big bed in Gracie's room, and poor James had to *completely* disassemble the crib to get it through the doorway, down the hall, and into the spare room. But seeing it set up in there now, all stripped down to the bare mattress in an empty room, floods me with sadness. Mostly because there is supposed to be a little guy sleeping in that crib already. And also because my heart yearns for another baby to sleep curled up in that crib. That must sound confusing. It is confusing, even to me. The way I feel looking at that empty crib really epitimizes my mix of emotions right now. On the one hand, James and I really want to add to our family again. But no baby will ever "replace" our Isaac. He is our first born son. Another baby will not change how much we love him or miss him. A hundred more children will never change that. When we are 90 years old with dozens of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, we will still miss our son. We will never stop missing him. And yet, the irony is, that if he had lived, there would probably not be a third baby for us.

Clearly my emotions are all over the place right now. Please disregard. Can I just blame it on the PMS this month?

The calm before the storm ...

Today my mind is racing, in true typical Kristi-style. That familiar anxious feeling - the heavy ache in my chest - is creeping over me. I've had lots of practice over the last year and a half dealing with this feeling. We've been through so many ups and downs (well, okay, maybe more than our fair share of downs!) over the last eighteen months .... that the anxiety almost seems like the norm these days. I've learned lots of little tricks to help me deal with these feelings when they start to overwhelm me: deep breathing, praying, shopping(!!), reading, etc, etc, etc. One of the things that has helped me the most during my emotional meltdowns is talking. Not the chit-chatty stuff ... I mean REALLY talking. About everything I'm feeling: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Getting it all out on the table has been so therapeudic for me in the past. And many times since our ordeal began I've had a near-obsessive NEED to TALK ABOUT IT.

This method of coping has served to cause some major issues from time to time among those people close to me, who are the unfortunate recipients of my constant emotional babble. I understand that must be hard for my loved ones! Some have tried to be supportive, and others not-so-much. But very early into my grieving period I began to feel like a major burden on some of my loved ones. So I began seeking out alternative ways of fulfilling my need to talk through my emotions. I joined an online support group, full of other fabulous women who had endured the same pain that I had ... women who had that same obsessive need to VENT. Turns out we are really good for eachother!! I thank God for finding this small circle of women who I now call my *friends*, they have been my lifeline on many days. Another way I have learned to satisfy my need to cope is through writing. Never considered myself much of a "writer" before ... but I've learned that doing so can really soothe a tattered soul without burdening those you love with your emotional junk. And SO..... here I am: writing. The need just overcame me today so strongly that I suddenly created a blog profile and began typing. But why, why, WHY, you may be wondering, would I be feeling so anxious at this moment?? It's because of the big secret that I've only shared with one person (outside of my "BabyAngels" group, that is).....

James and I are trying to have a baby.

Phew, there it is. One sentence, so exciting, and yet scary as all @*%* at the same time! We haven't been "trying" long ... this month was our first attempt in fact (TMI, I know, sorry!) ... but apparently it's been long enough for my annoying personality traits to step in, and so begins my worry process. James is gone today picking up a goat (ask me again after Christmas and I'll explain why!) ... and so as Gracie and I sit here watching "Woody Woodpecker" (her new favorite), I'm suddenly compelled to write. Again. Since I have a feeling I'll been doing a lot of writing over the next 9 months (God willing), I decided a blog would be a good idea. I have no idea if anyone besides me will ever read it, or if I'll ever even INVITE anyone to read it for that matter. But right now I'm needing a personal place to unload all of my emotions - the excitement, the worry, the paralyzing fear .... especially knowing that in the months to come (God willing) there will be many more emotions which surface.

At this point it's too early for James and I to know if our "efforts" (*wink, wink*) this month were successful in producing a baby. We are hoping to know for sure in the next day or so. We are both so giddy with excitement and anticipation that we can hardly see straight! But the practical part of me is stepping in today and taking stock of just how hard this is going to be, whenever it happens. James and I are not naive - we've been through the preconception consultations with all the specialists, we've read the statistics, we've analyzed all the potential outcomes, and we know without a doubt that with another pregnancy we will face a MOUNTAIN of emotional, physical, and spiritual difficulties. For a very long time we were too consumed with fear to even consider trying again. But as time has passed we've slowly found ourselves at the point where the desire for another child now outweighs our fear of what we'll endure in order to get there. James, in fact, is so giddy with excitement, he's been on cloud nine since we made our decision to try again. I think he's going with the "let's not think about it" approach. That works well for him.

But me .... well, I was once a biology major. Despite my sometimes emotional and sensitive nature, I'm actually quite analytical and fact-based in my line of thinking. I need scientific studies, I need statistics, I need raw data. I need to read an article by some obstetrical genius proving that a woman with my medical history can have a perfectly normal healthy pregnancy. No, I haven't begun reading cover to cover The New England Journal of Medicine in my spare time yet, but I'm close. For months I have scoured hundreds of articles detailing all the risks and possibilities, I've made lists and asked so many questions that my dear doctors have begun joking that I'm 3/4 of the way done with my medical degree at this point. My former obstitrician even told me she'd give me a job working at her practice as an OB-educator. I think she was only half kidding. I've even dubbed myself an "info-maniac". It's that OCD part of my personality which I try to control, but in situations like this I actually find comfort in having ALL the information. It's the unknown I can't handle.

So, there's risks. Every pregnancy has risks. How bad can they be, you ask? Well, some background: I have a history of pre-term labor (PTL), marginal placenta previa, grade 3 placental abruption, and last year was diagnosed with heterozygous type III Protein S Deficiency. With a subsequent pregnancy, these are the risks according to all my doctors. With the first two, they've attempted to quantify my risks, with all the rest they will only tell me "increased risk" or "high risk":
1. PTL and/or another pre-term birth: 25%
2. Another abruption: 17%-20%
3. Placental previa
4. IUGR (Intra-uterine growth restriction)
5. Pre-eclampsia, common for women w/ blood clotting issues
6. HELLP Syndrome, a very severe form of pre-e
7. Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation (DIC)
8. Stillbirth
9. DVT (Deep vein thrombosis)
10. PE (Pulmonary Embolism)

There are additional risks associated with the medications I will be injecting during the pregnancy ... but they are much less serious than those above.

Typing that list scares me. Anytime a condition can (rarely) lead to your death, and/or the death your baby, it's scary. But I do believe that God is the ultimate Healer, and my doctors assure us that with careful medical treatment a healthy outcome is attainable. Right now I'm holding on to those things for reassurance. We're either really confident, or really crazy. I'm not sure which. Regardless, I know we're in for quite a roller-coaster ride! But it's like they say: With great risk, comes great reward. If there's a healthy baby at the end of that rollercoaster, then the risks, the fears, the pains and sacrifices ... won't mean a darn thing at that point. It will all be so worth it.