less traveled

Last night we went out for our row later than we should have. We hemmed and hawd about it, and then as soon as we decided on a yes, we ran down our oars to the dock as fast as we could, begging the light to linger.

The still water was black like ink. I felt a bit like a genie rowing in a bottle. You could see the perfect puddles push past the boat, its rim highlighted by the remaining glow of the day. I imagined myself a pen, my oars leaving the thoughts of the day written in an artistic calligraphy atop the glass lake.

I can still see the beauty.


...

Went to doc yesterday as I started leaking a lot of watery fluid. They wanted to make sure it wasn't amniotic fluid-and it wasn't. Everything continues to move along in the right direction. Our big 20 week ultrasound is next Wednesday.

Yesterday while I sat at my computer, I placed my headphones on my belly and played some of my favorite music. Our little one started moving and became quite active. I imagine a little dancing going on on my cervical floor.

S was given a book by a friend meant to read to the baby in utero and he finally did so last night. It was really touching. He put his mouth right up against my stomach and mumbled into my shirt. I wanted to laugh, thinking to myself, if it sounds that muffle-y out here, I can only imagine what version is making it to the babe, but I was so touched by how passionately he was reading that I let the laughter stay with me.

*the photo is of my dad and I dancing at my wedding.


I miss my father. I miss hearing his strong silly voice on the other end of the phone calling for no reason. I miss being able to say, "Hi, Pop," right back to him in a carefree, happy to hear from him kind of tone, and then, "I was just going to call you" because I really was just about to call him every time he'd call me. I miss sharing my life with him, the failures and successes. I miss baking my great grandmother's recipe of kolaches just for him and waiting to hear back the verdict about the latest batch. "More like a Kreppel kolache, this time, honey. Mmm, good."

I know it's time to call my step-mother and tell her that we are pregnant. I had wanted to early on, but I thought I should wait until the 3 month mark, and then the bad test results presented another reason to wait, then the wait for the amnio pushed it back again. Now there is nothing stopping me except the fact that I haven't called to check in with her for so long. We have always had a strained relationship, to say the least. I could write pages and pages on that and you would all be shocked to hear the details. Dumbstruck over why my big strong amazing father never really knew what to do about it. But, I forgave him, eventually, and I think I've even forgiven her, now. It's all in the past, and there isn't a darn thing I can do to change the course it took or how venomous it got. It wouldn't bring back my father. And honestly, I threw everything I had at it at the time, so I'm not sure what else I could've done differently.

Over the course of my father's last week, and then through the funeral planning, she began to soften towards me. Dad was now gone, and I no longer a perceived threat to her. I welcomed her kindness, and was surprised by it, and saddened that it was really possible, but hadn't happened until now.

She never really cared for any of our family's food traditions, except maybe the cinnamon rolls. Dad had a hankering for many things that I would never even think of eating myself (pickled pig's feet, pickled herring, head cheese, cow's tongue-yeck!), but there are many things that my grandmother used to make that I would do just about anything for, her poppyseed kolaches being first on the list. Any of her sweet bread items, really, would make any grown man or woman beg. The bucdha, the rolls, the hoska, the braided breads, the cinnamon rolls, and beyond that, her czech goulash, her zellie, her dumplings-oh, her dumplings, anything that she canned, but especially her beets (one of dad's favorites,too), and her pickles (can I just say, I would kill for a few jars of those pickles!)were all out of this world.

After she died, it took me 3 years to get a batch of kolaches that even resembled anything edible. I remember the year I finally thought I had something worthwhile that I could send to Dad. I didn't tell them they were coming. I'm sure between losing his mom, and the time that had passed since his last kolache, and the surprise of receiving an entire box of all sorts and kinds, was overwhelming for him in a way that I can only imagine now, after losing one of my own parents. I remember when the phone rang and he was on the other line, choked up and so appreciative. After he cleared his throat a few times he went on to tell me just how special it was to receive them, and that mine were more like his grandmother's than his mom's. I knew he was right, although I had tried os hard to get them to taste just like grandma's. Many years later I pondered that statement. I had tried so hard to make my kolaches taste like my grandmother's, but had she tried for many years to get hers to taste like her mom's? I stopped being so hard on myself after that and began to take it as a compliment, which was what my father had always intended. I sent him a batch every Father's Day and Christmas after that first box.

This Christmas, the first without dad, I baked a batch of cinnamon rolls for my step-mom, and I threw n a couple kolaches for the heck of it. I'm not sure who I did it for-her, or myself, or for Dad. I personally delivered them, a little afraid of how I'd be received. She genuinely enjoyed the gesture and I was glad I had made the effort. But, honestly, I haven't reached out much to her since, a few calls, then she moved, and her number changed, and she changed the joint email she shared with my dad, and, and, and, it just became too easy not to contact her. I felt deceptive, too, having our baby news, but too afraid to tell it, afraid I'd cave if I called and then, what if something went wrong? I just couldn't bear to make that phone call.

But, I know it's time. I have some hope that she may be happy for us. My biggest hope is that she may say something about what she thinks dad might have said, but it's also my biggest fear that she won't. I hope that on some level it will allow more healing.

I need to make the call, it's all a part of the recipe, I think. And then, I need to bake a batch of kolaches.

My early morning row this morning had me quietly cutting through the fog in my boat
I love the rhythmic cadence of the movement; it’s like making music, really. This time of year is always magical to be on the water, as the air temperature drops below the water temperature and you are swallowed up whole by the rising steam.

I haven’t felt this relaxed or fulfilled on the water in a long time. Maybe because I haven’t felt like rowing, haven’t felt like doing much of the things I love these last few years, really. It’s been a rough go of it, the IF, losing my dad, my cancer scare, my mom’s cancer and then her heart attack. I would make myself do it, try to trick myself into finding the beauty in it, but I seldom did, until this morning.

With each stroke, my world quickly became less and less discernable, and slowly as the shore began to fade into the fog, so did my own darkness. I felt light, the stroke felt easy, effortless. There were no landmarks to remind me of where I was, I just glided along in my new foreign surrounding, and then suddenly, there it was, the undeniable beauty, the feeling I hadn’t felt in so long, there it was spilling over from my heart right into my boat. The feeling was strong and powerful, just like I had remembered, the scene no longer felt strange or foreign, either, but so familiar and comforting. These were the moments that used to make me feel alive and joyful, and there I was, right in the middle of all of it.

There were many days and nights during my IF struggles that I wondered if I would ever feel like me again, or if that girl had been swallowed up whole by endometriosis. Many times I would answer that question with a hopeless no, and some days hearing that in my head was more than I felt I could bear. Who was I if I couldn’t enjoy my life?

This morning I realized the answer has always been yes.

As I looked over and saw my husband rowing beside me, I knew it was a morning to cherish. We won’t be able to do this early morning row together once the baby arrives. These mornings over the next 5 months deserve to be savored and truly enjoyed.

We had a fantastic weekend. S and I had a lovely date night on Friday night-went to a new winery (don't worry, I didn't drink). S did a wine tasting and then we bought some cheese and crackers and sat outside under a beautiful summer sky that was highlighted by a gorgeous sunset that let to a full moon rise. There was live music that filled in the spaces and cozy fires burning in stone hearths around the grounds. We sat cozied up and felt lucky to be outside taking it all in with each other.

Saturday we attended a funeral of an exceptional 90 year old woman. IT was sad, yes, but also inspiring to celebrate a life well lived. At one point there was a standing ovation to her for just that. The church was full of people of all ages. She touched so many peoples' lives and we were lucky enough to be 2 of them.

We then went home after running some errands and worked on our house and finished up some projects outside. We had a dear friend over for dinner and cake and ice cream, of course, to celebrate his 61st birthday. Sunday we woke up, had a lovely row on our lake and were greeted by my mom and niece as we came into the dock. We did a little shopping for my niece and then went boating and swimming together. My niece wanted to try kayaking, so we taught her how, and she was off! She did a great job! IT was such fun having them there with us. My mom hasn't been for a visit for months, and little E has never been to our house, so it was fun to show them all the progress and explore the park together. We lured them in with dinner to get them to stay a little longer, but couldn't quite convince them to spend the night. (well, my mom, anyway E was all over the idea of staying as long as she could.)

It was so enjoyable. It wasn't filled with angst or worry. It wasn't filled with longing or fear. Instead, it was full of love and appreciation for all we have in our lives. A perfect couple of days.
..........

On the baby front, I feel like my stomach doubled in size this weekend. It's a strange thing to watch your body being transformed. Some days I find it a little terrifying, while other times I am full of wonderment and joy. It is a transformation, for sure. One that has you questioning everything about your life, the future of your relationship, your identity. An amazing process, really. I wish I could talk to the me on the other side right now. I know I would have so much advice for myself. I just wonder what it all would be. It won't be long before I meet her. The me that will be a mother. It is such an exciting mix of emotions.

Well, things are moving right along. I've started ordering things for the nursery. We live in a state park by a lake. It's a lovely woodsy environment, so I've had my eye on a few things that I've been wanting to get for the nursery. After the results came in on Friday, I started ordering on Monday and things have begun arriving in the mail. Exciting.
I picked out a tree wall decal and some original prints of some woodland critters to adorn the walls. All things you would find around our home;squirrels, fireflies, foxes, owls, etc. I don't want pink or blue, besides we aren't going to find out the sex, so a neutral room is in order. Something subtle and not overdone, but fun. The color of the walls is pretty much the same as the color in the tree decal, but a lighter hue and a little warmer.

Take a look at the recent purchases.

I can't stop crying.

The nurse called. I could tell I didn't recognize her voice, so immediately I felt guarded, and a voice inside my heart said, "This is it". When she said where she was from and why she was calling and asked if I was in a place where I could talk, my heart began to race, I sat down, and braced myself. She said, "Are you ready for some good news this Friday morning?" I couldn't talk. I couldn't answer. I just started sobbing.

"All the chromosomes look great. You've had a really long wait and now it's time to celebrate."

There are no words to describe how I feel right now. All the fear, all the worry, all the energy trying not to feel any of it. And now, now I have a healthy baby, and I feel like I've hit life's big jackpot. How did I do that? It's bigger and better than finally seeing those 2 lines, it's better than telling S that we made it to the other side, this is better than anything I have ever felt.

I can't stop crying, I'm so happy. And relieved. And grateful, so very, very grateful. Oh, my, I don't believe it. I just do not believe it.

It IS time to celebrate. It is time to embrace this miracle. If I could just stop crying...

I did get in touch with my nurse, the one that called me with the initial bad news and who, then, over the next 48 hours spent a total of about 6 hours on the phone with me. She was very willing to call over to the lab for me today, but the results are not in. I knew I would've heard something if they were, but again, I am not a patient person by nature. Another week, she said, at least.

I've really done pretty well up until now. But, now? Now I am crumbling. What kind of crazy distractions can I come up with until next week? Any ideas?

Dinner went OK. I'm glad I did go and not cancel. It was still difficult listening to her talk about her son and how wonderful it is to be a mom, and then discuss her new pregnancy, again, all the while not knowing the outcome of our treatments. She never asked about it or how I was doing. I could chalk this up to the fact she just doesn't know what to say, but it was still just awkward. She knew we had gone on a few trips recently and knew we were still planning one last big hoorah trip this fall, all without knowing that my recent trips have been escapes and distractions to help get us through the waiting, and that the big trip was to hopefully be our celebration trip and baby moon. But, she made snide comments about not being able to run off on a big trip because of her son and now her pregnancy and she openly gushed about that and how wonderful her boy is and what a great age and oh did I tell you about the amazing things he's doing? There's the sting. Doesn't she realize I would have gladly stayed home the last 4 years from any trips with my own son that I could never conceive. Instead I smiled and told her how lucky she is.

Finally at the end of dinner I did blurt out that I was pregnant. We left the restaurant and went for a walk while I tried to explain to her what the last 6 moths have really been like. She was surprised and happy for us, but again, her way of trying to connect to me just gets me angry. She actually said she knew exactly how it felt to be me because they had actually had to try for 4 months to get pregnant this second time, and then she finally decided to chart a month, and then it worked. Really? You know how I feel? Are you kidding me? You charted one month and it worked for your second child?? I was at a loss for words and I didn't want to come off sounding angry and bitter, though I was, I was. So I opted to just smile and nod.

So now she has heard the news she thinks it all melts away and everything is back to normal and totally fine. I wish it were that easy. But seriously, will any of us ever be the same before this torturous roller coaster? I do believe we are different, and hopefully closer with our partners, if we are lucky that it didn't tear us apart. We are stronger and wiser, but we won't be the same.

She immediately decided we should all get together and go celebrate. I told her that until my results come in I don't feel like celebrating, and that it's still hard to hang out with her family right now. She looked hurt and a little confused when I told her that. I tried to reassure her that it's really no one's fault, it's just a side effect of infertility, and with time it may heal, but I need to focus on my situation right now, that I want to go through my pregnancy on my own ( selfish girl, please don't let lightening strike me down). In the end I still don't know if she got it. Most of her comments made me feel like she was way off base, and I know in my heart that it would be really hard to understand if you were given the storybook route to try and grasp that there is also a nightmare path out there for some of us.

I just hope now I can have a little breathing room from her. I do feel better that I was direct and asked for what I need right now. I do wish that she understood and that we could talk more openly about it, that I could actually lean on her for support, but I have come to terms that she is just not that person for me.

...

I am starting to go a little crazy with waiting for the results. I put a call into the hospital just to make sure by some miraculous event the results didn't come back early and are sitting on a desk waiting to be given to me somewhere while I bite my nails down to nubbins. I haven't heard anything back.

I've talked to you about her before(you must read that post to really have an understanding of the rest of this bitter post). My very fertile friend that I've been trying to avoid like the plague. The last time we met for lunch she was saying how she was mad at her husband and wasn't going to try for a second baby for awhile. Hmm. OK. Then she was calling again wanting to have us all over at her house for an evening, but I redirected to lunch with just her and I to avoid hanging out all night with her son, I know, I'm terrible. I just had a hunch she was going to drop the "I'm pregnant!" bomb on me again. So, we tried to schedule a lunch, but it was always around a potential land mine date, like my transfer day-what if there weren't any eggs to transfer? I'd reschedule, then it was on my first beta test day. Reschedule. Then my second beta test-nope, no good. The day of my first ultrasound? Ummm...no. The day after they called me at work and told me that my chances of having a baby with Trisomy 18 were ridiculously high...let's see, sorry, can' t make it. OK, then, how about the afternoon of my CVS test? Won't be able to. Any day between now and the amnio? I think I'll be out of town, somewhere with my head in the sand. Oh, Ok then. But, by now she was really starting to get peeved. So I caved, thinking that I would have had my results from the amnio in 2 days- I carefully scheduled it for, well, tonight.
Last night the phone rings. It's fertile myrtle. She wants to discuss where we will go for dinner and then chat. Isn't that what the dinner is for? Now mind you, she has no idea I'm pregnant. Last she knew we were past one failed injectable cycle heading into our 2 WW of another failed injectable cycle with the IVF plans on the horizon. Again, I don't think she tries to be insensitive, she just has no idea how to be supportive through this. She is quite frankly clueless about it all. So, before we hang up she stops me and awkwardly blurts out that she is pregnant-5 months and wanted me to know-that and how hard the pregnancy has already been. Great. That means the first month you tried to get pregnant-BAM! it worked. The second time you tried you also got pregnant on try number 1. Good job! Way to go! And now, I'm in this pregnant purgatory of sorts and you have been trying to tell me while I was going through IVF and every moment after not knowing where or how we are doing? Really? I think this might finally push me over the edge.
On one hand I feel terrible for feeling any of this because I AM pregnant. I'm a lucky one. A very, very lucky one. I may not have a live baby at the end of this pregnancy to love and to hold, but I did get this far. This may be the only time I am pregnant. I want to enjoy it as much as possible, every bit of nausea and bout of fatigue, the round ligament pain stretching- I get to feel it. I do. I am blessed. But I am also scared as hell. And it hasn't been an easy road to get here.
For whatever reason she has been The One for me. I think a lot of us have One. The girl that you come across in your IF journey that just pours salt on your very raw gaping open wounds. Her presence, or words, or stories, or inability to say the right thing, just stings.
I think it is finally time for me to tell her. I need to come clean. I need to explain that infertility can wreak havoc on the best of us. It can beat us down to such a low level that we hardly recognize ourselves. It takes its toll not only on us, but on our loved ones, our work, and our relationships. And for whatever reason, some survive and some don't. Our friendship isn't going to survive it. And I'm sorry.
I don't even think I can tell her that we did indeed get pregnant. I can't begin to explain to her why I couldn't shout it from the mountain tops like she did the week after her HPT. She was blissfully ignorant. None of us will have that luxury. If, if , if we do get pregnant we will all have, to some extent, a tentative pregnancy. Oh, we'll be joyful, yes, indeed, but in a cautiously optimistic I don't want to jinx this sort of way. How can we not after all the disappointment we have faced along the way? How do we not protect our hearts just a little? I think it's called survival.
I guess I shouldn't lump everyone into this category, that's not fair. Maybe had we had good news from the outset I would have aleady begun to heal, but it just feels like more of the same. Except I don't fit in anywhere. At this very moment, I am not technically infertile, but I surely don't feel like I'm really pregnant. It's a lonely place that is ridden with guilt and yet filled with hope. Who am I to complain? I apologize for the whining. But that green eyed monster has a hold on me today, and it's not pretty.

16 weeks today and holding our breath.