I joined the ICLW gaggle this month after forgetting to sign up a bunch of times. I figure I should post a little something for the folks swinging through since I’m not an avid updater so much as someone who likes to take a long, slow time developing a piece of writing that is rich with personal meaning. And sometimes, I just freak out, like yesterday (because I had to start taking progesterone again, working in conjunction with this high-stakes waiting to turn me into a mental patient) and also because the treatment process, wearing on as it has, is sort of killing me slowly. I might be kidding, but I’m kinda not…I’m totally strung out and exhausted.
As for me as a person, I teach middle school English, which not unlike infertility, is its own comedy of errors. I derive great joy from working with kids–this seems to surprise people, who often grunt with pity and disgust when I tell them what grades I teach–and my labors yield a discernible pay-off, so in those ways it’s really quite different from trying to make a baby, which generally consists of me running myself around in circles with zero reward. I am married to an incredible man who makes me laugh every day. I met him at work 10 long years ago, where we shared a 10’x10′ room doing case work for disabled people and their families. We were not well paid, working in a position where it was our job to perform the impossible task of connecting families to resources that were underfunded and overburdened, all the while jumping through the hoops of a managerial staff that was ridiculous enough to star in their own comic strip–a scene from Office Space, really. B earned my friendship with his humor, and he won my heart through his compassion and sensitivity when I found my brother was suddenly battling a very aggressive form of cancer, and I had to take time away from grad school to help manage his care. Since then he has been a rock, a set of wings to make me light when I’m heavy, a doter and a spoiler, which is a serious treat for a girl like me as I am self-made from extremely humble beginnings. He will be an incredible father one day. In my spare time I love yoga and running, taking pictures of beautiful places, some of which are in our own backyard, cooking meals that prompt big smiles and uncontrolled moans of contentment, hanging out with my emotionally unstable dog, and (I admit it) watching the Real Housewives because their antics make me seem rational and calm.
This blog is…basically about me trying to not lose my goddamn mind while trying to have kids. You can check out the whole twisted tale of frustration and wasted energy under “My Journey.” I just got back from Colorado today–after the big storm delay–from banking my 3rd stimulation cycle for CCS testing; this really accounts for IVFs 5, 6, and 7. I am lucky enough to have generous fertility coverage, all of which is now spent, that enabled me to keep trying. As we speak, my 12 embryos are 4 days old. I don’t know how many of them are still alive (scary) or if any will stay alive until Friday (terrifying) as my issue is clear egg quality despite all the doctors who crooned again and again, “You’re young! Don’t worry: you’ll get pregnant.” If nothing comes of this crazy CCRM multi-cycle escapade, we will have to move on from OE treatment. If we’re going to bright-side this whole thing, which, honestly, is a tendency that kind of annoys me, I’ll say that “fertility tourism” lured me to some places and into some life experiences I likely would not have otherwise pursued–2 trips to Chicago, scores of weekend days in Manhattan, and 4 trips to Colorado. Just this past weekend I skied the Rockies, which is unbelievable since it was only the second time I’ve ever strapped on skis; the first time was about 2 weeks ago in Vermont. We hiked (by grace of snowshoes) over hills, through canyons, and across frozen lakes in Rocky Mountain National Park on Monday. So I’ll leave you with that (and some pictures) because I’m tired and travel-worn and want my jammies post-haste.