I'm terrified

I've tried to convince myself that I'm not terrified, but it hasn't worked. I'm completely scared that M's little angel's health situation is going to mean that M can't be make our dreams come true. Perhaps that sounds selfish, and in so many ways it is, but I can't help but feel that my dream is in limbo, it's existence is now uncertain.

There was an odd sense of confidence when I finally realized that we'll do doing traditional surrogacy with donor sperm. As sad as I am that my dh or I cannot contribute to the creation of our future baby, I was also certain that as long as my medical conditions weren't involved in the making of a baby, it would be a success! The less needed I was in baby-making, the more productive it was going to be (or it is going to be, I'm still not sure what tense to use. Hence the terror). This moment, of the life-shaking fear that M must be feeling as her little one is ill, is the first that I've realized that we are truly dependent on 2 individuals to make us parents. I've always understood that intellectually, but it is the first emotional grasp that I've had on that concept. If something happens in M's life that needs her complete attention, surrogacy obviously cannot be her priority. I wouldn't want it to be her priority. I want more than anything for the doctors to call and tell her it's all been a mistake. Every test, xray, cat scan, and diagnosis have been wrong...and S is completely healthy. I don't want S to be ill and I don't want M to have to be under the stress of having so much medical uncertainty.

But I don't walk in M's shoes, I walk in my own, and I stand here shaking in my boots that there is yet another obstacle to jump over before I can hold my baby in my arms. Perhaps it's the lack of faith that I have in medicine, which is obviously founded in my own failed attempts to heal and exist for just a day as a normal, healthy, woman. Perhaps it's the fear that if it can stop me from being a mom, it will. Or, it may be the reminder that I truly have no control over my own parental destiny (or any destiny for that matter). I get it God. Aren't we done with the life lessons yet?

It's been quite a while since I've had the emotional breakdown that I'm having now. So far, I'm successful at drying the tears before my husband gets home, clearing my voice before I answer the phone, and smiling when I feel like screaming. I want to know why. Why do any little kids need to ever be sick? (Hailey, you are in my prayers always) Why any parents ever need to know the fear of losing their child? (Maria, your in my daily thoughts) and why God needs to continue to threaten my motherhood? I'm pretty certain that a hysterectomy, menopause at 26, male infertility, and every woman I know under the age of 35 being pregnant is enough of a reminder that motherhood is going to be tough to come by.

Is this what happens when you have hope? It's not over, I know I'm overreacting a bit, but this is opening a wound that has not yet healed.

I really am crazy

Tuesday night I began having hallucinations. I didn't know that's what they were until my doctor used that term, but I described them to dh as "a nightmare I couldn't wake up from". It was horrible. Afterward, I was exhausted and felt like I was drunk. Driving was a challenge and I couldn't work at all. All I could do was sleep (which is odd because I normally can never sleep). I'm relieved and frustrated to discover that a medication that has been given to me to help hot flashes has caused this. Effexor XR, which is primarily used for anxiety and depression, has been shown to reduce hot flashes. A few months ago I was put on it when they reduced my estrogen as a result of the ichemic colitis (the thought is that the hormones are causing blood clots which are causing the ischemic colitis). I had a very rough time going on the medicine and it's been hell taking it everyday, but I keep telling myself that it will eventually get better. Obviously it won't. Going off the medication is apparently as risky as remaining on it, so I have slowly began a system of weaning myself off of it. It was one of the scariest moments in my life so I hope to get off of this soon and get this out of my system. It's an extremely frustrating choice to decide which of the two shitty quality of lives I should live with, but clearly having hallucinations (along with every other horrible side effect of this medicine) isn't a reasonable option.

So yesterday I was living with the side effects of a miserable night of panic when I heard from M. Her youngest daughter, S, was very ill a few weeks ago with suspected H1N1. They ran some tests and a Cat Scan which showed thymus fullness with associated enlarged lymph nodes. Subsequent blood work was ran and the results came back on yesterday which indicated her LDH levels were elevated. The enlarged lymph nodes, thymus fullness, and elevated levels all indicated that something was obviously wrong and the chief concern was lymphoma (i.e. cancer). She was sent to Children's hospital for testing today. Thank God, her levels have began to decrease. We still don't have all the answers, but it is possible that it is/was a severe systemic infection. The levels decreasing seem to take the "c" word out of the picture. Thank. God.

Of course, the health of this little girl was the primary thought on my mind. Cancer and children are two words that shouldn't be spoken in the same sentence. It should never be. Once my mind began to wander away from the sole realization that this little girl may be very ill, I realized the implications this may have. My heart stopped. While M could be starting the fight of her life, I'll still be struggling with how to resolve mine. I've known about the joys of having such a connection to another family, but I had not considered the terror of having such a interconnectedness with them.

As naive as it may seem, it never occurred to me that M's life circumstances could stop my dreams from coming true. My motherhood is so dependent on her, I felt terrified for her daughter but just slightly less terrified for myself. I called my husband right away and we talked and prayed for S. And in almost the same time it took for me to realize it, my dh's heart skipped a beat. He realized, also, what this could mean for us. He said, "I'm so sorry honey, but let's just take this one day at a time." The story of my life. It's been years of taking things one day at a time and all of these days added together still have not produced a baby. My days begin and end with the comfort of knowing that in 238 days (give or take a day based on M's ovulation), all of this will be worth the wait. The tears, the medication, the pain, the rocky marriage, the tens of thousands of dollars, the fear, the loss...it will all be worth it. What if that 238 days turns into another year or two? I should know that I will survive, I should have confidence that God will carry me through the wait as He always has, but yet I looked for shelter and wanted to hide away from the thought that my dreams might be in limbo. I can't handle limbo any longer. This temporary moment of uncertainly has been an unwelcome reminder that I have no control over my ability to become a mom. I need to completely surrender to the rest of the world; allow the universe to align itself, and then perhaps it might allow me the honor of motherhood. Meanwhile, some teenagers are getting knocked up after drinking too much Boone's Farm last night. Why don't the planets need to align for them? Why do they get that control over their own destinies?

I will continue to pray, both for S and for myself. For her health and for my sanity. For her strength and mine. For M's dream to be healthy and for mine to come to fruition. I will pray for understanding; why one ever needs to fear that her child might have cancer. And why one ever needs to fear that she may never be a mom.

Challenges

I've really been doing well with trying to learn and absorb the lessons that infertility is teaching me. I'm slowly learning to embrace our temporary childless state (emphasis on the temporary) and learn to enjoy these moments alone with my husband. I can see now, the deliberate actions of the Universe and the perfect pattern of events that will lead to my becoming a mother at the perfect time, with the perfect surrogate, to the perfect child. Despite my aggressive attempts to intoxicate myself with all these profound lessons, the Universe doesn't shop challenging me. What more must I learn? It seems only appropriate that there should be a limit to the number of intensely difficult events that one must endure in life. While I know such a limit doesn't exist, it still takes me by surprise when I find myself facing yet another.

After my "ischemic colitis" diagnosis while we were visiting M, which lead to a hospital stay after enduring a lot of pain, blood, and misery, I've been not feeling great. Nothing too horrible but I know my body enough to understand that I haven't been normal. Over labor day weekend they did another colonoscopy and the biopsies were normal. They know what the diagnosis is, they just don't know what is causing it.

Sunday night I woke up in a lot of pain and called the doctor on-call. I explained to him my medical history and he wanted to speak directly to my doctor (who is both a clinical and research expert in my disease) before he advised me. Monday a.m. he called back to say they had me scheduled for a colonoscopy on Tuesday. I immediately had to leave work to start the glorious bowel prep. Despite the raging hemorrhoids and horrible cramps I had anyway, the bowel prep went relatively smoothly. I went to bed at 10:00 p.m., ready for the colonoscopy the next morning. I made it until midnight at which point I woke up in extremely intense pain and the immediate sensation that I was going to pass out. I woke up my dh & told him what was going on. I was afraid to move, knowing I was going to pass out, but had to get to the bathroom right away. I crawled to the bathroom, went to the bathroom, and then immediately fell off the toilet and passed out. Dh caught me (he's learning now to not let my head hit the ground) and I was out for a little bit. I awoke and all I could say was "bucket" and he ran into our office to get the garbage can. I vomited so intensely for quite a while and then passed out again. At that point, we called the dr. on call and they told us to go to the ER. Because I have to be seen at the University of Michigan, our ride to the ER was almost a full hour away. When I started to get up off the bathroom floor to go to the ER, I realized I had gone to the bathroom while I was passed out and didn't even know it. My poor husband. I changed my clothes and got in the car. We had to stop on the freeway so I could go to the bathroom again, I couldn't make it to the exit. I've heard of people doing this before, but I've never done it myself, it's quite strange to have your pants pulled down as semi-trucks are driving past you. Thankfully, I'm not shy and it was very dark with few cars on the road.

We manage to make it to U of M without any major problems, although I cannot walk on my own and my ability to function is extremely limited. I lay down on a bed in the ER immediately as the nurses are asking me questions, I tell them, "I'm going to pass out now". I'm not sure she believed me because she didn't react, but dh knows that I don't say that unless it's really going to happen. I passed out while lying completely flat on my back in bed which something that is very rare to do as your body usually passes out to force you to lay down, but I was already laying down. They had a very difficult time reviving me & ended up having to give me some injection and oxygen to get me to wake up. Thankfully, that was the last time that I passed out. They temporarily cancelled the colonoscopy because I wasn't stable enough but then rescheduled it when I started to show signs on improvement. The colonoscopy proceeded and the anesthesia didn't work at all and I was awake for the entire thing. Of course. I was then admitted to the hospital for another night and released yesterday.

I'm searching really hard to find out what I'm supposed to learn through all of this. I've watched as one-by-one my organs have been removed as one disease after another is discovered. I never imagined that such problems would continue to expand through the remaining parts of myself. I simply can't imagine that there are great lessons to be learned from a colon disease? I suppose there must be, and i just haven't found them yet.

Alone

It's amazing to me that there will be countless people involved in making me become a mother but yet I still feel so alone. I would give anything if just for one hour my dh could live in my thoughts. If he could understand how it is truly impossible to get through the hour without second-by-second reminders of infertility.

I was speaking to someone on the phone in the surrogacy world today and she mentioned a sperm bank that I had never heard of before. When I checked out their website I was really liking their donor selection (a lot of PhD & MD donors, a lot of them tall, which are two main factors we are looking for) until I read that they are entirely anonymous. It's been known since April or so that we will likely be needing a donor, at which time I spoke with dh about all the factors we have to consider when selecting a donor and he replied with the infamous "I'll think about it" remark. So, nearly five months later, I ask him "What do you think about using an anonymous donor?" He replies "Yea, that sounds good. Can you scratch my back?" I just looked at him, I couldn't believe any decision regarding such an important aspect of our child begins with "Yea". I scratched his back. He asked what my thoughts were & told him. If we use a donor that will allow his identity revealed upon request of our child, our child will always have that option. Selecting an anonymous donor removes that as an option forever. We should keep all options available for our child. He replied, "Oh, ok, that sounds good then."

My voice started to get louder, my patience shorter, and my words stronger. How do you just vacillate between those two options so easily? Haven't you considered these options? What exactly did you mean 5 months ago when you said that you would think about it? Was that simply a rhetorical statement meant to appease my sense of urgency? When were you planning to think about it, as M is pushing our baby out of her vagina? When our teenager is walking across the stage receiving his high school diploma? Perhaps neither of those times, perhaps you would put off thinking about it until I unilaterally make the decision which frees you from any further obligation toward that particular topic. And then, when we need to have discussions with our child about his genetic background, I'm sure you'll assume that I'll handle those discussions also because, afterall, I'm the one who decided to use a particular donor.

"What would you like me to do? I can't think like you. How do I think like you?" Ahh, perfect question my dh posed. So, I thought briefly, how does he think like me? How do I think about such things? I propose:

Divide the day into 15 minute increments. 5 minutes of those 15 are completely dedicated to thinking about a baby. It can be any variety of baby related topics. You now have 10 minutes left. A diaper commercial will come on TV, so you change the channel and the local news is talking about a potential "labor strike" at a local manufacturing plant. However, since you're me, hearing "labor" makes you think of a baby, which makes you think of M, which makes you think that you can't believe you are putting another woman in pain for your benefit. It makes you think about how you'll ever repay her. Speaking of repaying, how the hell are we going to fund this surrogacy journey? Back to the labor. We should write a birth plan now. I wonder if M knows if the hospital she's working & will deliver at is surrogacy friendly. I wonder if they'll give us our own room. We should include that in the birth plan. I wonder if both of us can stay in the room with her if we can't have our own room. What if she needs a C-section, will she still have one of those big labor rooms? Speaking of C-section, we should get M some help after the baby if she needs to have a C-section. That's enough, I'm turning the TV off. I should do laundry. I wonder if I can make my own laundry detergent that is safe for the baby, like dreft. On my way to the laundry room I walk through the office, the unsigned surrogacy contract sits inside a special folder on my desk; dozens of infertility, surrogacy, adoption, menopause books sit on the bookshelf. That can't be normal for a 26 year old. Oh, and about menopause, here comes another hot flash.

15 minutes is up. Repeat daily in 15 minute increments until you're a mother. That, my husband, is how you think like me. Now, you must devise a plan to still function as a semi-normal human being and fulfill all other adult obligations while having a brain that is incapable of thinking of any thought without somehow connecting it to our baby.

************************************************************************************

It's not him, it's me. It's not normal to be like this. Seriously, not normal. It's actually part of what is so depressing about this situation...I've turned into a person that doesn't live a normal life. Everyone is pregnant right now and that is not helping. I thought I had triumphed over the "everyone is pregnant" stage last year when both my bff and 2 SIL's were pregnant at the same time. But, it's happening again. My neighbor is pregnant with baby #2, a very close family friend is publicly discussing her readiness to begin "trying" (if she only knew the depth of that word), another family friend is pregnant, my cousin just delivered (and no one wanted to tell me she was pregnant so I found out at a family function when they said her mom couldn't make it because Erica had just delivered. Delivered what?, I asked), my bff's brother & wife are pregnant, even M's SIL is pregnant. Everyone is preparing for a baby and I'm arguing with my husband about which other man's sperm we'll use to try and make our baby with another woman's eggs. It's too much to wrap my head around at times...

2 years

Yesterday, J and I celebrated our 2nd wedding anniversary. Everything is a matter of perspective, as I reflected on the reality that it was *almost* our 1 year anniversary. Dh & I were engaged in February 2007 and had an entire wedding planned, from the string quartet to the Cinderella pink linens, for July 12, 2008. We wanted a long engagement as I finished my master's degree and we spent more time together, as we had only dated for 9 months prior to becoming engaged. In May 2007, just 3 months after our engagement, I started to have severe ovarian pain (which was the only reproductive organ I had left since my hysterectomy a year prior) and after several doctor's appointments and finally our first RE appointment we learned the endometriosis and PCOS were becoming too much for my ovaries and they would soon need to be removed. We were encouraged to proceed with IVF immediately if we ever wanted to have a biological child. The very next day we cancelled our wedding. I called every vendor and explained to them the situation and most gladly refunded our deposits. Simultaneously, we began planning a wedding for just 12 weeks away while also making arrangements to begin a gestational surrogacy journey with an agency in Illinois. For so many reasons, including my ever-failing reproductive system, the journey had to end and our hopes of creating a biological child between us were forever shattered.

I was certain that we would immediately adopt, I was often awake in the middle of the night putting away the wedding planning material and looking up adoption agencies. For the first time, I needed to be a mother more than I needed my next breath. We returned from our honeymoon and as the Fall approached I finished my last semester of my master's degree along with PhD courses I was taking. We decided I wouldn't continue with my PhD, as I didn't want to leave my baby during the time I needed to be in class. A day after the end of the semester, they removed my ovaries. I felt even more empty than before, I was reproductively non-existent. There was nothing that proved I ever held the potential to become a mother but yet somewhere I was convinced that longing would show if they ever cut open my heart. I would have never admitted to being depressed during that time, but looking back now I realize how serious it was. I tried to cope with my infertility but the severe symptoms of surgical menopause kept me from focusing on anything at all. I was incredibly thankful that I had decided not to return to school, as I know I wouldn't have been able to manage. The next year was a blur of hormone starvation, true insomnia, and dark depression. There were 2 adoption situations that were right on our fingertips and then stolen away from me. I wanted a divorce, I wanted a baby, I wanted my uterus. I wanted everything I couldn't have.

This winter my life began to turn around as I learned to live with the existence of my marriage and the absence of my hormones. I began to feel hopeful that after a year and a half of marriage, we had agreed to start the adoption process in January 2011, just 2 years away. It seemed like an impossibly long time but I knew that I couldn't rush him, he wanted time to enjoy our marriage and despite my confusion (as I wasn't finding much to "enjoy" in the midst of my baby hunger), I knew that he had only known our marriage to be filled with sadness, rage, and obsession. I owed it to him to give him the most normal marriage I could. I knew it wouldn't be perfect and the obsession wouldn't erase itself but hopefully would slowly fade with him. I had hoped the dark depression would become a muted sadness and the fueling rage could simmer to a mild anger. I began to hope; hope that the rest of a journey to parenthood wouldn't be as difficult, hope that the next year and a half of marriage could be filled with more love, and hope that my life could become more clear and less clouded with all that has been wrong. It was at the moment that I allowed myself to have the slightest bit of hope that our world forever changed.

A bit of adoption research sparked the interest in embryo adoption which peaked my curiosity about surrogacy which made me realize that traditional surrogacy is what my heart needed. I didn't need to have a genetic child but I did need to watch my baby grow, to hear its first heartbeat, to welcome its entry into the world, to hold it first, and spend 9 amazing months thanking God that there is someone willing to risk everything to share with me the miracle of life. I met M in February, we decided we were meant to be together just a month or two after that, and now we have the relationship I've always dreamed of. We're forming the basis of a solid, healthy, committed friendship and next year at this time, we hope to be pregnant. We hope. We believe in hope. I believe in hope for my marriage, my life, and my path to becoming a mommy.

Today, my note from the Universe read the following:


One of the trickiest things about life, Sara, is that, at times, it happens so slowly.

Yet... if... it... happened... any... faster... you'd... already... have... everything... you... ever... wanted... without... learning... to... enjoy... the... ride.

Beep, beep...

The Universe

How true. Happy Anniversary J.

Sperm donor, anyone?

As if it's not enough that I cannot carry or create a biological child, my dh cannot either, unless we do IVF with ICSI. It's an option that we've seriously considered. It's so tempting to create a little baby with my husband's gorgeous red hair or attractive 6'7" frame. We want to create something together, not individually. We also are in love with M and cannot imagine doing a journey without her. I feel so confident that our journey will be filled with love, trust, and mutual compassion. I want her to create a baby for us, and no one else. So, we move forward. Dh doesn't want to have anything to do with the donor selection process. I hope that changes, but if not, we've agreed that are requirements include a solid educational background, tall (just for fun), and willing to be located by our child if our child chooses to one day.

This is tough. It's tough to absorb, I really can't believe we're both so broken.

Emotional ADD

Is there such a thing? I'm certain I must have it. I cannot be at peace with a single emotion for longer than just a few minutes. I was going to post yesterday morning that I was feeling renewed from dh's & my conversation the prior night. There is a reason for all these sick infertility jokes that God keeps playing and I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Then, yesterday I had an encounter with an old acquaintance, Shannon, who used to be very close to me and discovered that she is pregnant. She went through 7 IUI's and 4 IVF's before she was able to conceive. I was genuinely happy for her, but so sad for myself. Her journey has come to an end and she finally achieved the goal that she set out for. I tried to trick myself into thinking that I will also achieve the goal that I set out for: becoming a mommy. But then I wonder if I'm just twisting my thoughts to convince myself that motherhood was my primary goal. I just don't think it was, I think pregnancy was my primary goal. Do any of us really start off on our journey to parenthood and say that all we're searching for is a baby? If so, why do we continue with the medical interventions that could fail and the surrogacy journeys that pose risks? Why don't we all just jump to the most sure path to motherhood, through either adoption or foster care? That would make us mothers...guaranteed! (I'm not trying to diminish the feelings of anyone who has had a failed adoption, but the reality is that if you stick with adoption long enough, you're bound to have a baby). We don't all jump on the adoption bandwagon because our end goal involves so much more than just parenthood. I've known since I was 22 that I would never carry my own baby but yet there was still something more that I sought out than just motherhood. I needed a bond with the woman who would carry my baby in the way one needs oxygen. That was possible with adoption, but never a guarantee, and it was less possible that I would have that bond from the beginning. I can know thank God, and my husband, for not allowing me to rush into the adoption process as I wanted to for the past few years. I feel that it would have given me the more important part: a baby. It also would have denied me the parts that I needed most, not as a mother, but as a woman.

I was distraught last night after finding out about Shannon's pregnancy. I felt so guilty that I wasn't happy for her. I have the most incredible woman willing to make my parenting dreams come true and I still can't be happy for someone else's pregnancy? What is wrong with me? Will I ever be able to fully feel joy for someone else when they announce their news? I have the best situation that could possibly be available to any woman without a uterus, why shouldn't I be happy for Shannon that she now has the best situation available for anyone with a uterus?

After a few dozen crying sprees while J was cutting the grass, and a few more when he came back inside, I was ready for an emotional intermission. I simply needed a rest from any thoughts, good or bad. That's when I received an email from M. We are in the beginning stages of working on our contract and I had emailed her a document with all the possible fees and compensation topics and she was replying to my email. I had simply stated the topics and she would fill in the fees. In the beginning of our relationship I had asked her about her base comp because I needed to be sure we could at least afford that before I allowed myself to become too invested in the relationship. We hadn't had any further discussion about fees since that time. Her reply was heartwarming, humbling, and so gracious. I know, as does she, that she could charge anyone else a lot more than than she's asking us for her compensation. She truly is what every intended parent wants in a surrogate, she understands the emotional and financial heartache of infertility. This path to parenthood will still be expensive and we're still challenged everyday on how to afford it but she is easing the burden on us tremendously. I don't know how I ever will repay her for her kindness.

I went to Target today to scrounge the dollar bins for some kid related toys and games. I'm going to FedEx M and the kids a package next week. I'm making each of the kids a small "travel bag", with a tote filled with activities and snacks to keep them occupied on the drive to the zoo. She has 3 girls and 1 boy and I tried my best to make the boy's bag different and unique. Each bag has animal crackers, a water bottle with a straw (color coordinated to match the color of their bags, it's so cute!), coloring book and crayons, candy, window stickers (to stick on their car windows). The girls each have lip gloss and the boy bag has a magic game and some type of puzzle. I'm including a card to M and her dh along with a gas gift card so the cost of their trip can be totally taken care of. I also ordered M's graduation gift today. She recently graduated from nursing school and her party is the end of June. Thanks to some help from some former nurses I found a stethoscope that I had personalized with her name on it. I can't wait to give it to her. 2 weeks can't come soon enough to meet her!

The little blessings

Last Tuesday we flew home from Disney World and we weren't home long until I was abruptly reminded that we're definitely not in Fantasyland anymore. Two days prior to our departure, my evil SIL contacted me to inform me that my second evil SIL was in labor. Fuck you. I knew my MIL was picking us up from the airport and surely we'd have to hear about it. Through 2 years of therapy, dh & I have worked on how to respond to people when they say things that are knowingly hurtful. He's had a conversation with his mom before that we really prefer not to hear about people's babies, even if they are our siblings, and although we understand her excitement it's just simply not possible for us to be excited and it's painful to hear so we politely request that she not mention it. Of course, that is just too difficult for her to comprehend and my dh avoids conflict the way I would avoid another term of George W as President, so he of course hasn't offered any further polite reminders to his mom that we simply don't give a fuck about anyone else's baby right now.

As predicted, we pull into into the garage and she reaches for her cell phone while saying "Do you want to see a picture of your new niece?". I remained silent, in fact, I think it was one of the short moments in my life that my brain actually rested. We had rehearsed similar scenarios in therapy and at home before and dh & I had agreed upon a certain response. Not necessarily a specific set of words, but generally the rules were that he would respond (not because I'm too shy to respond but he knows I won't play very nice) and he would be firm in saying "no" and exert some type of "what the hell are you thinking" comment and remind her that we've already talked about this and we are never interested in hearing about anyone's pregnancy or baby until we are standing in front of her with serious bags under our eyes from dozens of delightfully sleepless nights from staying up with our own baby. He didn't respond. He was silent. She showed us the picture. I was livid.

Today, after a few month hiatus from joint therapy sessions, we rejoined with Susan the therapist to discuss this incident. I am convinced that if he chose not to respond at such a critical opportunity that he must not understand the depth of my grief and the intensity of the pain his mom inflicted. The therapy appointment was relatively uneventful until I said I wanted to see him angry with his mother. If we were in a bar and someone had punched me, he wouldn't just stand by and allow it, he would be pissed! This is far worse than being punched so why the hell wasn't he mad. Susan started to ask him questions about anger and at one point he said that no one has ever made him as angry in his life as I have.

After we returned home, I was in the bathroom doing my usual crying-before-I-wash-my-face-for-the-night routine and it hit me. I always try to find the reasons behind all this bullshit that God puts me through. I'm convinced I'll have a stronger marriage, that I'll treasure my baby more, I'll be a more attentive parent, I'll have a shared empathy with millions of people, I'll gain an overwhelming sense of compassion toward other woman. I never realized what the benefit was for my dh. Why was he picked to go through all this hell with me? I realized it there, in the bathroom, mid-cry. Yes, I make him more angry than anyone ever has, but it's because I force him to deal with this. He can't avoid it and pretend it doesn't exist like he has with any other difficult time in his life. He has to acknowledge it, understand it, accept it, and learn to live it. I came running out of the bathroom with tears running down my face to explain to him my newly understood rationale for his misery. He smiled and he knew it was true. He told me that although his anger for me is more intense than anger he's ever felt before, so is his love.

I wouldn't infertility as a method to teach anyone a lesson, but, I am infertile and while I'm here I am definitely learning quite a few lessons. I'll take it. I'll take a tearful embrace with my soul mate as we both realize that there is a reason for this misery beyond our understanding, and today, God has given us enough of a taste of understanding to satisfy our appetite for now. Thank you.

Why I'm thankful it's mother's day

...because once it's over; all the tv commercials will stop, I'll no longer hear the radio advertisements, no one will ask me what we're doing for the big day, I can drive down the road without seeing a billboard reminding me to buy flowers or chocolate, and most of all because I will be able to reclaim the smallest morsel of my sanity back as I've clearly lost it during the most difficult time of year.

I hate mother's day. I speak to so many infertile women who say that they cannot wait until they become a mom so they can spend their first mother's day celebrating. Of course I don't know how I'll feel when that day finally arrives, but for now, I do not intend on celebrating mother's day. It is a day filled with immense pain for millions of people and I cannot ignore that and simply celebrate with breakfast in bed and a pot of flowers. Christmas is probably the second hardest holiday to celebrate when you are involuntarily childless, but it is no comparison to mother's day, because in the darkest moments of scraping together a reason to celebrate Christmas I can still celebrate the birth of Jesus. There is a reason for the holiday aside from Santa Clause and Christmas presents. There is no other reason for mother's day, there's no alternative celebratory reason I can conjure in my head, it is a day for mom's and if you're not a mom and you want to be, it is hell.

J set his alarm this morning to wake up early to head to his mom's. I had previously told my mom that I wasn't interested in doing anything, to which she replied, "It doesn't get any easier?". I'm not exactly sure why she thinks that extending the length of time that I remain childless will somehow make this day easier. I'm actually glad that he went to his mother's, it's a big step in our marriage. Last year mother's day was a big fight, he insisted we see his mom and even though he offered to go without me, I felt that would only make it worse. We took her out to breakfast together and the waitress asked me if I was celebrating the day. I don't look pregnant and there wasn't' a child seated next to me, but she still felt she needed to question my motherhood. I should have replied, "Oh, my! I totally forgot, I left my kid in the car, thanks for reminding me!". I think "sensitivity" training should be a requirement for every workplace. What if my baby had just died? What if I just had a miscarriage? What if I was...gasp!!!....never going to be pregnant for the rest of my life because my uterus and ovaries were stolen from me? Perhaps not the best question for the waitress to ask. So, J is at his mom's. The only condition I had, that he completely understood, is that he go to see her at a time that the rest of the family isn't there. I would definitely feel like the one who had been left out and as any infertile woman knows, that's a terrible feeling when you're purposefully missing from an event because you're the crazy woman without a uterus. So he woke up early to bring flowers and bagels and spend an hour or two visiting. I haven't broken down crying yet, instead I'm rather numb to the pain. I'm exhausted that I have to endure yet another mother's day.

I'm the type of person who plans everything and I plan as far out as I possibly can. When we have an upcoming vacation, I get very excited to bust out the luggage and start packing things slowly so that I can be sure I've packed every item I may anticipate needing. It's not unusual for me to begin packing two weeks in advance of our departure. We leave on Wednesday for Disney World and I haven't even dug out the luggage from the basement. I've been waiting patiently to pack everything today. I love Disney and it is the only constant in all my years of infertility that can make me smile no matter what. It's rather bizarre because the place is constantly filled with millions of adorable children but it is a childhood memory that I relive every time I visit. My parents took us to Disney every year of our life and I've sense gotten my dh hooked and we go as often as possible. Last year we bought annual passes for the first time! So, today I will spend my day childless and packing for Disney World. It will be a mix of depression, euphoria, and anxiety.

I'm afraid to put my thoughts into writing...but I'm nervous about M. Maybe it's been the impending holiday that is making me more sensitive that usual and I know she's been extremely busy with school and then one of her kid's birthdays this week, but we haven't emailed much at all. I just know that so much is riding on this relationship that I'm going to over analyze everything. She's busy and I know that. We're not planning to TTC until mid to late next year, so I'm sure she doesn't feel like it's critical that she emails me everyday. Of course, I would love to get an email from her once a day, but she has a life to live and 4 kids to raise. I need to relax. It's like the beginning stage of a relationship where you've already fallen too far into love but yet the relationship is still too new for any type of "where do we stand?" type of talk. I will text her and wish her a happy mother's day, she will be the only person receiving that wish from me.

Notes From the Universe

I subscribe to daily "Notes From the Universe" that are delivered to my inbox every morning from this website. The notes are written by one of the contributors of The Secret and always inspire me to think differently about my circumstances. Today's note was exceptionally profound. It read:

A flower doesn't turn toward the sun because it needs to, but because it wants to, and so the process is effortless and joyful. All things considered, Sara, what do you WANT?

-The Universe

I began to tear up when I read this note. So many times, as not-so-proud members of the infertility community, we consider all of our options as sub-par simply because they are not the way we dreamed of conceiving our children. Those who are trying IUI for the first time wish they could just make love in private to create their baby. Once IUI fails, those who consider IVF have let go of the hope that pregnancy with come naturally and they are frustrated with the tens of thousands of dollars that it costs to make a baby. For those of us who result to using an egg donor, surrogate, or both feel that we would give anything to carry our own baby and we long to feel the kicks inside our being that we know we'll never experience. We all spend too much time looking back while trying to move forward. There isn't any circumstance that allows for safe and successful travels when your eye is always looking the rear-view window as your vehicle plunges forward. Infertility is no different.

When dh & I attempted a GS journey almost 2 years ago, using my own eggs, I'm not sure I could ever get over the fact that another woman would carry my baby. No doubt, I had immediate love and gratification for her but I still couldn't help but be overcome by my own grief. Today is a different day. This journey with M is different, I feel overwhelmed with her generosity and I wonder every day how I will ever be able to express my thanks to her but my grief interferes less frequently. I realize I'm infertile and I don't have a uterus to carry a baby or an egg to make one, which leaves me with choices. I used to think those choices were all terrible options because none of them allowed me to carry my own baby. Today, however, I realize the choice I want is to make a baby with my husband's sperm and another woman's egg. I want her to carry our baby, nurture it, allow me to sing to it and anticipate its arrival. I want this. It's not a default decision when all others have been eliminated. It is my choice and that gives me hope, power, and satisfaction beyond what I ever dreamed possible. I choose surrogacy, it didn't choose me.

Shut up, Oprah!

I adore Oprah, she truly is one of the most remarkable people alive. She is generous and pure in ways that I believe we all should be. Everyday I DVR her and truly enjoy my time to watch her show. She makes me cry, laugh, and challenges me to be a better person. Today, however, she pissed me off.

Her show today is basically about the "realities" of motherhood. Moms are confessing some of their deep confessions about how overwhelmed they are as mothers. One mom admitted that she actually forgot to feed her child dinner, another admitted that instead of bathing her children she'll have them go in the hot tub instead hoping the bubbles were enough to make them clean. One woman actually admitted to having a favorite child, someone lets her kids eat pizza for breakfast at least twice a week. The most difficult confession to hear was the woman who said the day she had to go shopping for a mini-van was the worst day of her life. I would give anything to be shopping for a min-van right now! I can't wait to get behind the wheel of a van, complete with the "Baby on Board" sign and packed full with baby paraphernalia and a screaming baby in the back. I can't wait!

A guest on the show said that after she gave birth she had to mourn the loss of her old self. Mourn. The. Loss. of. your. old. self.? I would love to get a chance to speak to that woman & tell her a little bit about what its like to lose yourself and then mourn that loss.

They had a mini-clip after commercials about "What no one ever tells you about motherhood" here are the some of the answers...it's comfortable to feel the underside of your boob on your belly, baby boys wake up with woodys, it's so difficult it is to be a mom but no one will tell you because if you knew you'd never do it, you might not love your baby right away, you will hate your husband...

I'm so angry I don't even know where to begin. I think Oprah needs to do a show about "What No One Ever Tells You About Infertility."

A new day

Actually making a baby related purchase yesterday temporarily paralyzed me with a strange feeling that I did not recognize myself. I have never been able to just 'let go' and be ridiculously optimistic that everything will work out the way it is supposed to and that is exactly what I am trying to do. However, I've also never experienced the deep depths of depression that a tragic circumstance such as infertility can bring. Perhaps it is because I've seen how twisted my life became in the midst of infertility that I can now force myself from entering that space again. I cannot give myself permission to emotionally follow the ups & downs of doctor's appointments and new bits of information as if each one is either life-ending or life-sustaining. I've done it before and I know the outcome is not good. While it's inevitable that I will be have emotions regarding whatever the latest doctor's appointment tells us, I cannot become those emotions. I can experience them, validate them, and then understand that they do not (and cannot) control me. I'm thrilled to be back into the world of surrogacy, a world that I thought was off limits once I had no genetic contribution to make, and I cannot let this journey tear me down like the last one did. I refuse to let it.

I confessed to dh today about the purchases I made last night. He thought it was 'nice'. He's such a laid back guy. Nice? He clearly didn't understand the volume of importance that making a baby purchase holds. I emailed M to tell her my confession also, her response was "I'm glad you are realizing that this is really going to happen-you ARE going to be a mommy." She left me speechless. I wonder if she knows how powerful those words are, particularly coming from the woman who holds the power to make me a mommy. We have became such great friends in the past few months. It's wonderful too because we're both able to be ourselves...we complain about our husbands, talk about work or her schooling, the extra-long winters were having. I feel like I know her far beyond the morsels of surrogacy that exist within her. That is just a part of her, of course, that is the part that brought us together and the part that connects us in ways that no one else could but I do not believe it is the part that sustains our relationship. She is someone I would be friends with even if she hadn't offered to carry our baby. I think that is the most important part of our relationship. It's amazing the change of perspective that I've had since finding a path to parenthood that I love as much as I love this opportunity.

Assumptions

This morning, after some passionate lovemaking that we did to a plastic sterile cup, I rushed dh's sperm to the hospital for our first SA this year. When I arrived, I told the receptionist that I had sperm in between my boobs and I couldn't wait to register, they had to take the sample immediately. Luckily, we live about 10 minutes from the hospital and this hospital also takes our insurance and the SA's are covered 100%! So, I'm sure they'll be seeing a lot of me. Anyway, she looked at me like I was crazy, clearly she doesn't understand why someone would drive around with sperm in between their boobs. Thankfully, a supervisor was standing nearby and heard my request and immediately took me back to register and take the sample. She was very friendly and prompt. I was prepared for the inevitable "how long have you been trying" question, and I'm actually not quite sure how I should answer that, but she didn't ask. She did, however, say "good luck" as I was leaving. Her assumption being that we are trying to get pregnant. I'm relatively certain (although this is an assumption on my part) that she didn't assume that I'm praying for those sperm to be strong and healthy so we can use it to impregnate another woman. It made me think about all the incorrect assumptions I hold about other people. It is in moments like these that I realize, despite my passionate hatred for infertility, I am a better person because of it. I am, at times, a bitter, resentful bitch because of the struggles of IF. But in moments like these I realize I am a stronger, wiser, and more compassionate person because of it. Since exploring the option of traditional surrogacy, seeing a pregnant belly has become easier for me. Considering adoption has allowed me to have compassion toward pregnant teens because one day, I may need one of them for my own chance at motherhood. (Sidebar: I have compassion for most pregnant teens, excluding some, explicitly excluding Bristol Palin) Receiving thousands of dollars in medical bills in the mail from IF treatments, I have a deeper appreciation for my job and education that allows us to be able to afford the chance to try. There are few things in life I know for sure, but one is that the desire to become a mom is not limited by the ability to pay for it. Unfortunately, for many people the reality of becoming a mom is limited by fiscal restraints. That's bullshit. We live in the wealthiest nation on earth (is that still true?) and our citizens are left motherless because they don't have 25K to 'try' for a baby or another 35K to adopt. Bullshit. I digress.

When was the last time you felt joy?

I was thinking last night about surrogacy and babies and how infertility has changed me into a person I hardly recognize. I had a faint recollection of joy. Do you remember joy? I wonder if I will ever feel it again. Will the day my baby is born via surrogacy be filled with joy or will my happiness be tainted because I'm not the one lying on back recovering from bringing life into this world? I don't know what the actual definition of joy is, but I've always considered it "happiness untouched". The experience of being happy without any aftertaste of sadness. There always seems to be an aftertaste of sadness in my life since infertility.

In anticipation of our urologist appointment in under 2 hours (it can't get here quick enough), I called our insurance company to see if they cover semen analysis. To my delight, they cover them 100% with no copay! Of course, they exclude millions of other infertility related procedures because our medical community thinks fertility treatment is a convenience not a necessity, but I digress. I thought for a minute that I was experiencing just a tinge of joy, we've saved a few hundred dollars for each SA we do, no exclusions, deductibles...there's no catch, just "Yes, we cover them at 100%". Definitely something to be joyful about. And then I thought that normal people who experience normal joy would never be joyful about insurance coverage for infertility treatments. 10 year ago, I would have never been joyful about such coverage but today I experienced it a bit. I didn't think about how I wish they covered uterine replacements or the entire costs of surrogacy (since they won't be paying for my pregnancy), I didn't feel sad that we're needing an SA to use my dh's sperm on another woman instead of me. I was just purely joyful for the coverage. I'm thankful I was able to experience that joy for a brief moment, although I see it only speaks volumes about how much infertility truly has changed me. Joy...over insurance coverage so someone can run tests on my husband's sperm? I've set a new, much lower, standard for joy it seems. Infertility causes us to create new normals. I no longer think of sex when someone says that she's "trying to have a baby". I think of IVF, ICSI, laboratories, IUI's, morphology, and no intimacy at all. That is my new normal. The same holds true with joy. Joy can no longer be happiness untouched because all my happiness with forever be touched by infertility. I must redefine joy for my new normal of a life.

How much is that doggie in the window?

I decided I should test my emotional strength last night. My very dear friend had been keeping me updated all day long on the progress of her labor. She called at 4:00 to tell me she had a C-section and delivered a little adorable perfect baby girl at 1:05 p.m. I avoided her baby shower and avoided her as much as possible throughout her last trimester and I know she really wanted me to visit her in the hospital. So, when Jason got home we called the florist and ordered an arrangement of pink flowers delicately arranged in a crystal baby block. As I arrived at the florist, Frank (the owner) was there. He and his wife did all the millions of flowers for our 2 day wedding celebration. I hadn't seen him in a few months. He handed me the arrangement of flowers and with a smile on his face told me that he & his wife are expecting their first baby girl next week also. I faked my happiness. I should have known at that moment that God was trying to tell me this was too difficult for me. I should stay home, hidden under the covers, safely protected from the fertiles of the world. I didn't listen and we proceeded to the hospital.

When we turned the hallway corner to head toward the maternity floor I had a flood of memories that temporarily consumed my thoughts. The day I had my hysterectomy the regular woman's floor was full so they put me on the side of the hallway dedicated to labor & delivery. As I was walking the halls for 2 days after surgery I was walking alongside new mom and their bundles of joy. It was hell.

Jason & I kept walking and the nursery was located on our left, I stared at the floor as we passed it trying not to catch a single glimpse of all the babies. We arrived at my friend L's room without seeing a single baby. It was a miracle! I was so relieved. I gave her and her dh a hug and offered my congratulations. The baby wasn't in the room and I didn't want to ask about her, but I figured that's what this whole event is about, so I asked where she was. Apparently her body temperature was a little low and they put her in the nursery under a heat lamp, I imagine similar to the roast chickens that are sold at the grocery store. I said, "Oh, I'm glad they're able to get her warmed up". And then it happened...her dad said, "She's in the nursery. Don't you want to go see her?". Well, actually no I don't, but how do I tell a room full of strangers that I came here praying I wouldn't have to see the baby. So, we followed our same path back toward the nursery but this time I was forced to look in. There was a large section of glass and actual steps that you had to step up on in order to view the babies. It was an observatory of sorts, the most bizarre display of children I've ever encountered. I stepped up and glanced at all the babies bundled tightly in their bassinets. I felt like I was peering through the bakery cabinet at a Cake shop...which one do I want? I didn't have to analyze my selections long to know that I'd take any of them, all of them in fact. The crying ones, quiet ones, the black, the white, the ones with no hair or too much hair, the boys and the girls. I would take every one of them and bring them home with me. I am convinced that I would love each one of them with more passion than any of their fertile mother's could love them. We stared at her baby briefly, she was simply perfect, and then we returned to visit L.

Shortly after we returned to the room, the baby was brought in. Apparently her temperature had risen and the nurse explained she had little mittens on her hands and a hat on to keep her warm. L asked if I wanted to hold her, I insisted her family hold her first. Her sister picked her up immediately and after what seemed like only a few seconds, she passed her off to me. As I was reaching for her, someone said, "Be careful, they are contagious". Everyone laughed.

I held her for a few minutes and then passed her off, I then said that L should get some rest so we'll be on our way and we left. The moment we turned the corner from her room I began to uncontrollably cry. I thought it was a somewhat acceptable display of emotion because maybe everyone will think that someone died during my visit to the hospital, which isn't entirely a lie. I think part of me died in that room...or in front of the baby display...or at the florist. Will I ever stop dying?

On the sperm front we have an appointment on March 16th.

Sperm Problems

I wonder what the record is for a single couple having a number of infertility issues? I'm pretty sure I'd hold a strong competition! I have or had: PCOS, endometriosis, adenomyosis which left me without a uterus or ovaries. We've also talked with our RE today and dh has some major sperm issues, which makes surrogacy just about out of the picture. So, are we seriously going to pursue surrogacy using donor sperm & donor eggs? I doubt it. And, we can't do that in India for sure because the laws require one of us to be genetically related to the baby. I guess India is definately out of the picture. We could do traditional surrogacy in the US with donor sperm but I think that legally complicates things quite a bit. I like choices-I don't like when they are all taken away from me. I'm mad at God today.