Some of My Favorite Things

26. Watching Hallmark Christmas movies while my dogs are keeping me warm

27. Wrapping Christmas presents

28. Watching Doctor Who with Josie

29. Preparing my Christmas Eve dinner menu

30. Turning on all the Christmas lights

31. Doing random acts of kindness for people

32. Leggings

33. Being able to curl my hair with a straighter (big accomplishment for someone like me!)

34. White Chili

35. My "Be Yourself Unless You Can Be A Unicorn" phone case

36. The smell of Christmas trees

37. Playing Super Mario Bros. with Nate

Griefsgiving

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I know most people celebrate and acknowledge this holiday, but I've never really understood why. It's a food holiday. It's the day when all your family gets together and pigs out on good (and sometimes strange looking) food. Some families even gather around the TV to watch football. But at the core of this holiday it's always about the delicious food coma.

Oh.
And giving thanks.

I always hated that moment right before the prayer over the food where everyone was required to go around and say what they were most thankful for this year. We give thanks or as I like to call it: Humble Bragging.

Now I don't want to take away from the people who actually are giving thanks for the good in their life. Their genuine gratefulness while sitting in the tension of life is always a breath of fresh air, but most of the time I find myself listening to the "truly blessed' going on and on about how "thankful" they are for this thing and that thing and how much they have to brag be thankful for this year. And of course we all know if it's said with a sweet smile and a "Praise Jesus" it's not at all bragging.

I'm curious about what it would look like to have a Griefsgiving instead of a Thanksgiving.

Haha. I know, it's not a good "happy holiday" name and really, who wants to be apart of that lame, tear filled holiday.

Well.... I kinda do.

I'd like to be apart of a circle where we aren't desperately grabbing onto things to "feel" thankful for or humble bragging. A safe, circle with real people with real problems who say "This year has been a real shit storm because of... And today I am thankful that I didn't scream at my wife/husband/kids/dogs/cats/hamsters, or reduce myself into a pile of shameful lies about my body, or drink myself into oblivion or cut myself."

How would it be to stand in a circle where we can literally be thankful for the huge life-changing moments we  have, but don't share with people for fear of revealing our dark secrets and having judgement passed on us.

A friend of mine texted me this past week and asked me how gratitude felt amidst my grief and sorrow.

I sat staring at the message for awhile surprised by the question. I wasn't surprised that she had asked the question...she's one of the few people who would be brave enough to ask that question. It was surprising because of how kind that question felt to my heart. Here amidst all this shit of infertility and grief and one beautiful person stood up in that mess and offered my heart a chance to breathe. A brilliant glimmer of kindness. Someone had been loving enough to address the elephant in the room.

I responded that while I knew that there were things to be grateful for, it all felt forced and fake when I try to name anything.  

Forced and Fake.

I don't think that's what giving thanks is supposed to look like and yet all too often it does. I feel like I can't stand up and say that I am thankful that I had the energy to clean the house, or didn't pressure myself about the future or what the holidays are supposed to look like, or that my battle with self-harm isn't winning, or that I am even breathing at this very second because I don't want to die. But guess what? That's exactly what I am thankful for this year. Those things are real and brutally raw and honest.

Infertility has stolen so much from me these past couple years. My heart breaks every freaking day. I can't go to the mall and not run back into my car sobbing because I saw a beautiful mother holding her tiny baby. I struggle every day with fighting for my life, finding worth in myself, and figuring out what is real and true. It's a battle I was sure I would lose and yet, somehow, I'm still here.

So while everyone celebrates their Thanskgiving, me and my husband will be wrapping our arms around each other, taking a deep breath before being surrounded by everything our hearts ache for and we'll be having a private Griefsgiving in our hearts.

It might not catch on as a real holiday, but if you want to sit in the grief and be genuinely honest I'll be here today, tomorrow, and hopefully every day after that. We'll give a tearful thanks for what's been lost and what we're fighting for today.

What I Grieve Every Day Because Of Infertility:

Seeing a positive pregnancy stick

Telling N that I'm pregnant

Hearing my baby's heart beat for the first time

Feeling N hold my hand while we look at our baby for the first time

Having a sonogram that showed us a tiny baby growing inside of me

Getting lots of sonogram pictures to post on the fridge and one in a frame for our wall

Finding out the sex of the baby

Sharing the news with all of our families

Picking out new names for the baby or using the ones we already have in mind

Having the cliche pregnancy announcement pictures taken. I always liked the one with the parent's shoes and then the tiny little shoes with the "coming soon" underneath.

Going baby shopping

Planning a nursery for the room upstairs

Dragging my pregnant body to baby showers

Feeling my baby move inside of me

Being annoyed that people feel it's okay to touch my pregnant belly without asking

People asking me about my pregnancy

Getting to talk about being pregnant

Capturing each month of my pregnancy in cute pictures

Deciding whether to breast feed or use formula

Holding my baby inside of my body for 9 months

Having N touch and talk to my big belly

Just being pregnant and all that it involves physically

Lack of sleep

Going to classes

Knowing that my family has all gathered together in the waiting room while I'm in labor

Labor

Holding my baby for the first time

The Fight For Life...

Choosing life and fighting to stay with that choice is hard. It's a battle that never seems to find an end.

In the past 2 years I've fought for different things. I've fought to dream, hope, believe, and trust. I've fought to keep going with trying to get pregnant even when there were no positive results. I've fought to stay calm during scary procedures and surgery. And finally I had to choose to fight for me. Fight to stay alive. I've had to put dreams in a cardboard box and place them in the storage room of my mind so that I can fight for life and not death.

I've put a lot of pressure on myself these past two months to heal quickly. I've fought against my grief and pain so that I can "get a grip" and "cope" better. And then I fought to stop numbing out to every single goddamn thing so that I can name truth about how I am really feeling. 

It's just one big fight that never ends. 

And all I can think about is how tired I am. 

How tired I am of fighting....especially when I have to fight for good things. 

N always reminds me how strong I am...that I've been fighting a long time...and I'm still here. 

I've been fighting in my late twenties to stay alive and not self harm. 

I've been fighting since my mid/late twenties to get pregnant. 

I've been fighting since my early twenties to deal my childhood/teenage baggage and fight the glorious fight of just being who I am. 

I was fighting in my late teens to believe that fairy tales did exist even though I was scared, lonely, naive, and just got a guy who wanted to get off and use me. 

I was fighting since my late teens to stay alive and not take the final exit. It had to get better, right? 

I was fighting in my late teens with an eating disorder, self-harming, and extreme self-contempt. 

I was fighting my whole childhood/teenage years to know if I was really loved and worth anything. 

I was fighting my whole childhood/teenage years with knowing I deserved to be seen and noticed and respected even thought no one else seemed to think that. 

I fought my whole childhood/teenage years to keep from drowning in the noise and chaos of parents who were fighting and screaming constantly. 

I was fighting when I was a little bitty girl to keep from remembering something horrible and traumatic that occurred because everyone trusted this person to be alone with me. 

I was fighting when I was born to stay alive and not die in NICU. 

My whole life has felt like one fight after another. Since the day I came into this world I have been fighting. And more often then not I wonder whether it's worth it to keep fighting. 

My heart is tired and broken, but somehow it's still alive and beating. 

It's strange. 

And I guess astounding.   

The Thoughts In My Head

1. Suicide. I have stared down this precipice several times during these past two years. I've struggled with it in the past and since those times I have never dealt with something so emotional traumatic that triggered all those thoughts...until now.

I read an article last night about how suicide is a completely selfish act and those that choose that path are completely selfish for leaving their loved ones behind to pick up all the pieces. I've had a few people tell me that. Some have said it in regular conversation and others have said it directly towards to my situation. Every single damn time I have heard "suicide" and "selfish" in the same sentence my stomach has always turned. I fight back anger and nausea at those words.

"How dare you think of leaving this earth and not think about the people you will leave behind. Do you even know how devastated it will leave them. Did you even think about what they will have to go through after you willingly leave. You are so selfish to do that to them."


How dare I do that to them. How dare I, who is completely devastated and broken and ripped apart, someone who sits in the darkness every single day, who fights to stay alive every single second, someone who is scared and alone, how dare I not think past my own immediate pain and think of someone else's future pain.

I want to state that I completely understand what people are really trying to communicate. I know that it is their heart crying and breaking at the thought of losing you and they want need you to know how loved you are and how they cannot think of living through life without you.
So why can't we just say that?

Why can't people cry and hold someone's hand and say:

 "I love you. I know that everything is so dark right now, but I need you to know that I am right here. You need to know that I love you so much. Please choose to stay a little longer. Please stay for you. Not me. Stay because you are worth it."

Stay because you are worth it vs Stay because otherwise you are selfish


Suicide is such a complicated matter. There are two sides.
One side contains the person considering/committing suicide
and
the other side contains the people who will be/are left behind.

I've been on both sides of the spectrum.


Currently I am walking away from the precipice. It's never easy to walk away. When everything is dark and painful, you can't see past what's beating you down. You can't think of other people. You can't always think about how your death will leave them feeling.
It's almost like blood is rushing into your ears leaving you unable to hear anything except what's happening in your own body. But we fight. We fight for one more second, one more minute, one more hour, one more day. We live to fight another day. And sometimes we can't fight anymore.
At the precipice we have two options, life or death.
Which one will we fight for today? Which one will win today?

As for me, I'm choosing another day of life. Actually I've chosen a few more months of life. I don't know what happens after that...I've given myself the freedom to not worry about it and to cross the bridge when I get there. As for today, I fought for life. Life for me. Not for someone else....just me.
That doesn't make me selfless... I'm not choosing to stay for other people....honestly other than my husband I can't even begin to care what other people think of my life or death. I'm being selfish. Today I fight for me.



2. Finding My Voice.
I don't think of myself as a strong person. I can be strong when I need to be, but I've never associated it along with my identity....along with who I am. But in the past two years, I have found a strength that I didn't know I had. It's not a loud strength and it's definitely not there every day. It pops up in the strangest moments and spurs me on towards whatever lies ahead. The places I've seen it show up the most is when I am being hurt or taken advantage of.

These past two years have slowly marched me towards standing up for myself regardless of the cost.
I will not stand by anymore and let people walk over me. I will set boundaries and hard, severe ones if need be. I will let my voice be heard even when it threatens the peace.

My voice.
It's has always been kept quiet and defeated after years and years of training and conditioning. Yet these two years have given my voice a courage I can't even begin to grasp. It's hard to explain. All I know is, I have changed and my voice has changed and I won't be steamrolled anymore by anyone.


3. God.
Unknown to anyone, expect my husband and counselor, my faith has taken a sharp detour of a cliff. I have been left hanging on to a god that has left me feeling unheard, unseen, abandoned, worthless, etc. While other's around me seem to be holding onto a secure faith that "God will work things out for the best.", "God is always here with us.", and  "God is in control of everything."  I have been seen all those things violently shredded in front of me.

Some people go through hard times or tragedy and come out stronger in their faith...never doubting their God and his infinite power. They encourage those who are hurting to dive into "The Word" and "Seek God"... "He will show himself if you are listening.".

My whole life I have tried to see who God really is. I've shed old views and picked up new ones. I've felt connected and disconnected to Him. I've always trusted that He cares about me...that He loves me.
These past two years have shaken me to the core. I've listened and sought and wept and fought. I may see small things here and there, but overall I have been left confused and angry.
Apparently I am dealing with a "crisis of faith".

I have decided to just shed everything...I don't really know if I am a "Christian" or not anymore.
I do believe that there is a god out there. I believe that he does exist. I believe that Jesus died and rose again. I didn't choose to believe those things lightly...I've sat with it for awhile. I mean, I can't really figure out anything else if I don't decided whether or not I believe those core things, right? So deep inside of me, I feel that these things are real and so I believe that.

Past all that though, I am totally over it.
I haven't darkened the doors of a church in months. I don't know if I will ever go back. I don't know where any of this will lead or end. I just know that slowly I will figure it out and figure out what I believe regardless of what my friends or the general populous believes.

I have some other thoughts on this subject, but for right now I'll leave it here....

Happiness.

I'm sitting here in the quiet surrounded by a half lit/half dark room. It's been another day of me sitting on the couch watching YouTube videos and Netflix bingeing. It's not unusual behavior...in fact...it's becoming the new norm in my life. The safety and quietness of my house contains my tears and pain without the questions or strange looks or the need to pretend.

This weekend I've had to pick myself up and push myself out the door with the desire to not miss the time offered to me by a friend. And on Monday night I gathered up the strength, slapped a smile on my face, pushed down the pain and went out to celebrate a dear friends birthday, but even up until all those moments I was wrapped up in blankets in the dark.

I don't feel happy.

Yet, when I post on Facebook or Instagram I look happy...and truth be told in those captured moments I was as close to happiness as I could possibly be.

I look at my face in the pictures from Monday and this weekend and good god, I look so happy. I want to run back and just sit in those moments forever. I even cried last night about how I just wish "I could be happy again."

I remember what true happiness feels like...it's just been a really, really, really long time since I have felt that deep in my bones. It's weird to me that I can feel some happiness...a temporary happiness and then as quickly as it was there it suddenly disappears again. Small moments that I make sure to snap a picture of so I can look back and puzzle over the smile that desperately is trying to mask the overwhelming pain I feel.

I wonder how it looks to other people who might know all or some of the pain I'm going through. Does it puzzle them that I can write/cry/isolate myself, but suddenly show up in a picture looking full of life and happiness? I feel conflicted between hiding forever in this darkness and not wanting to miss the life events of other's around me. Goddammit. I feel shame for looking/feeling happy and then coming home and stripping my clothes and mask off and falling into a depressed heap on the couch.

I lied about how happy I was. Or did I? Fuck if I know what's what anymore.

Am I happy? No.

Was I temporarily happy in those moments? Yes.

Why should I give a crap about what other's think? Because I'm afraid.

I just want to be happy again and not have this pain touch every part of my heart. I want to look at events and pictures and know that I was really truly happy in those moments and that I came home feeling elated and refreshed. I want to not push down the pain in a desperate attempt to show up as fun, carefree Mal so that no one is made uncomfortable by me or because of the feeling that if I miss showing up to this then I'll never get the moment back again.

Does this even make any sense?!
Screw it. It's back to Netflix for me...

Social Media & The Ache

Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and Twitter are just some of the social media outlets everyone uses on a daily basis. We can upload our lives with just a single click and create hundreds of boards ranging from our favorite celebrities to inspirational quotes to diy projects.

It's highly addictive and quite fun! 

On Facebook there are so many pictures of kindergarten/high school/college graduations, engagements,  weddings, pregnancy announcements, births, birthdays, etc. We "like" the pictures and celebrate with the customary "Yay!", "Congrats!", "So happy for you!". 

On Instagram we are surrounded by more pictures that say: "Look at my awesome relationship with my significant other", "Look at how healthy I eat", "Look at how much I work out", "Look at my cute dog/cat/bird/fish", "Look at how cute my baby is", "Look at my bestest friend", "Look at all my awesome adventures", etc. We tap on that little "heart" to like the picture and may or may not add a comment.   

On Pinterest we are greeted with hundreds of pins that show us what our friends are interested in right now. At this moment, my feed is full of recipes, all things concerning babies, vacation spots, nerdy things, home decorating ideas, more baby stuff, fashion, and a few more recipes.   

We love to show off who we are and what we are thinking about! I mean, come on, who doesn't.

 Okay...I can think of a few people. ;-) But more often then not we like to post, like, and share everything.  

I wonder though, how do we really feel about all of this? 

I know that it can't be easy for my single friends to see all of these dating posts and engagement/wedding pictures. I know that it can't be easy for any woman to see pictures of skinny girls who just finished a workout or is now eating more rabbit food. I know it's hard to not have contempt for the gorgeous #nomakeup selfies (I mean really?! How is that even fair?). I know that it's heartbreaking to see every pregnancy announcement, especially the precious little sonogram picture, and it's hard to see happy mommies posting all their cute baby selfies.  

All these things make "the ache" in our heart hurt a little more. It reminds us of how much we are longing for something and how once again someone else gets to enjoy what we hope for every day. We wonder whether those things will ever happen for us. 

Yes, we are happy for those around us. I don't want to take that away from anyone. 

But I do not want to forget the silent pain we all go through. The ache that is frequently ignored and dismissed by social media every day. 

Today I am sitting in a quiet house, still in my pjs with a heart full of unfulfilled longings. I scrolled through all my social media feeds and felt the ache widen so I closed it all down and decided to write what was on my heart. 

If you feel the ache after scrolling through your news feeds, if you feel forgotten or lonely, if you wonder if God is even listening to your heart, I want you know that I'm here with you. 

I'm sitting in the ache and I see you. 

Hope...

Hope invites you to a place at the table. It's precious, tender and gives you a sense of belonging. Hope fills your heart and mind with dreams and longings. Hope is sometimes synonymous with happiness. When you feel hopeful, you feel happy and vice versa. Hope is redemptive.

But...

Hope is also the very thing that makes your longings ache without comfort. It is fleeting and time sensitive...you never know when your hope will "dry up". Hope makes a fool out of our hearts. Hope lets in dark lies that whisper a sweet song in our ears. Hope is a dangerous thing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


One week from now we'll see if all the medications I've been taking, the "special" injection, and the sonogram to check on my follicles have helped. Tomorrow I go in for another progesterone test and then a week after that I go in for a pregnancy blood test. That scares me.

I've never gotten used to seeing a negative on the pregnancy strip. And now for the first time I'll be waiting for someone to call me and tell me whether our dreams have come true or not.

I'm terrified.

I want to hope that this is it. With this phone call we can breath and dream and plan and cry some happy tears. I want this to happen so badly. I want the phone call to tell us that God has shown up for us in a huge, miraculous way.

One phone call can change our life.

What's going to happen?
Do I dare to hope that something good will finally happen?

Multiple Choice

When you ask me how I'm doing do you mean:

A) You are serious and actually want to know exactly how I am doing?
B)Asking because you want to see how good I should be doing?
C) Asking to be polite, but not really interested in the realness?

When you ask me if I've taken a pregnancy test because my period is late do you realize that:

A)   I'm now going to shut down emotionally.
B) I have taken more pregnancy tests then I would care to admit and taking one more and seeing a negative (again) is heartbreaking?
C) You make me feel stupid for sharing this personal thing with you.

When you ask me if I've considered adoption do you realize that:

A) You have asked an insensitive question?
B) You have completely dismissed my longing to give birth with my own body?
C) Yes, we have considered it and yes, we would like to adopt regardless of getting pregnant or not.

When you ask me "Are you feeling better yet?" do you realize that:

A) I did not stub my toe or catch a cold? I did not get pregnant once again.
B) That question makes me feel like you are rushing my grief to be over with?
C) You have dismissed almost 2 years of my grief and heartbreak in one question?

Do you realize that when I share something personal about my infertility experiences:

A) I do not want you to share it with others (no matter how small or big). This is my story to share.
B) There are no other options than (A).

Do you realize that when you flippantly say "Don't worry about it. You'll get pregnant.":

A) I want to shake you hard and slap the shit out of you?
B) This is so hurtful and inconsiderate to my pain?
C) You have no right to say this because it may never happen and all it does is shame me and my body.

If I don't reply to a well meaning message of support: 

A) It does not mean I don't appreciate it. Quite the opposite. It's just that some times I feel a loss of words and a simple thank you feels impersonal and distant. I apologize if I don't respond...sometimes I feel to defeated to offer anything back.

When you say "You're so lucky to not have kids." or "You have no idea how hard it is.":

A) My heart feels physically stripped bare and beaten.
B) I would love to feel how hard it is.
C) No, I am not lucky that my body cannot give me the one thing I want most.

When you talk about how birth control is to blame for infertility do you realize: 

A) How hurtful that is? I took it for almost five years. Are you saying that it's my fault I'm not pregnant? If so then you need to go have a talk with Jesus. Stop being insensitive and uninformed!
B) That by saying this you show that you have not done any research about infertility and are just saying things you have heard or read on the internet.
C) bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. bleep. bleep. bleep.


I know it's hard to understand, but:

A) Every day is painful and hard. There are few good/easy days.
B) I want to be a mother so much. There is no erasing that ache.
C) I need support and love. It's lonely in the ocean of infertility. Very lonely.
D) I rarely ask for help, but that doesn't mean I don't need it. I do. Desperately.

Some Of My Favorite Things...

14. Eating dinner with my hubby on our north porch

15.  Baking chocolate chip cookies

16. Watching people fight over my cookies. (not a euphemism! haha!)

17. Listening to my Lana Del Rey album over and over and over again

18. Logging into Hulu and seeing that my queue is packed full of new episodes

19. Cuddling with my puppy

20. Going on walks with Nate and the puppy

21. Therapy Shopping

22. Listening to Disney music

23. Chips & Salsa

24. Watching The Walking Dead with Liz

25. Pinup girls

26.  Saying bad words

Travel and Books

I have always wanted to travel.

I have been to a few places in the US and stepped outside to Puerto Rico and then in the complete opposite direction to Victoria, Canada and Prince Edward Island. I have a whole list of places and sites that my heart and eyes demand to experience.
Someday I will travel to every dream destination and soak up every moment.

Until then I must content myself with my fond memories of other worlds. These worlds are contained in every book I have ever read. My books have been a means of magical transportation since I was a little girl.

As a child I can remember living with orphaned siblings in a boxcar and solving crime with a girl named Nancy. I was friends with twin sisters in Sweet Valley and helped Miss Rumphuis plant lupines all over the countryside. On Rass Island I cried jealous, angry tears with another twin sister while we struggled over our insecurities of adolescent life. I was guided to a strange world by a tiny private detective named Lewis O. Ladybug and later I greedily ate Turkish Delight with a little boy while we rode with the White Witch.

It was a turning point in my life when I traveled to a small village in England to watch a small boy, by the name of David Copperfield, grow up. From then on the classics took me to Pemberley, Barton Cottage, Uppercross, Hartfield, Thornfield Hall, Limmeridge House, The Shire, and Green Gables. I ran with the likes of Lord Henry Wotton, Lady Chatterley, Dr. Jekyll, Mrs. de Winter, Jo March, Sir Percy and Giovanni and Beatrice. I became obsessed with Poe and his morbid, mysterious world. I let Christie take me by the hand and show me how crime was manipulative and evil, but in the end it didn't matter whether you were a French man or an old woman, crime would be solved.

Once I exhausted myself on traveling in the classics I decided it was time for a more modern era. From this point on I went on adventures where I was an amateur bounty hunter from New Jersey, a British beauty who has a major addiction to shopping, and a ruthless heiress who wanted land more than anything in the world. I witnessed the majesty and tragedy of King Henry VIII's court and gently walked through the life of a Geisha. My letter came from Hogwarts and I spent seven amazing years in a magical community. I found out that I was a demi-god and learned to outwit even the most cunning Gods. And lately I've sat in the great hall of Winterfell, grieved when my Khal died and rejoiced when my dragons helped conquer cities.

I may not have travelled to actual physical places, but through my precious book I have travelled to many places that maps and roads cannot carry you to.

I have never understood how people do not like to read. I love it with a passion. Reading is a magical conduit to great and beautiful experiences. You can join the characters in their adventure or you can become the character for an even more emotional experience. In my humble opinion, if you don't like reading then you are most assuredly doing it wrong.

There are cities both known and unknown and far away worlds waiting for you to explore and all you have to do is "take a look...it's in a book..."



"But you don't have to take 
     my word for it..."

Grieving Infertility

It has been 20 months since we started trying to conceive and I'm scared as we continue through this year with very little hope and few answers. In September of last year, we got our first diagnoses of infertility. My heart felt like a knife had been plunged into it as that tiny box was checked by my doctor. In that moment I just wanted to shout "Stop! Stop and take a second because this is a huge, emotionally hard moment for me.", but my voice got caught in my throat.

I have spent every month hoping, praying, and grieving.

Hoping that this month will bring us good news. Hoping that my body will regulate itself and do what it's supposed to do. Hoping that I can plan my pregnancy announcements. Hoping to experience pregnancy and all that it contains.

Praying for more hope and peace. Praying to see a positive instead of what feels like a death sentence. Praying to see that God cares for my heart and desires. Praying so hard that my heart is screaming and aching. Praying that the infertility tests reveal something. Praying that we can figure out why we can't get pregnant.

Grieving every negative test. Grieving each loss. Grieving the ache in my heart. Grieving the delay of my dream. Grieving every time I see baby pictures on FB and Instagram and every where I look. Grieving the intense loneliness. Grieving all the emotions that wreck my body and mind.

In the past year and a half I've had countless blood work tests and ultrasounds. They found cysts on both of my ovaries, but my first doctor didn't diagnose me with polycystic ovaries. I had an HSG done last year and was told repeatedly throughout the process that I had a tiny cervix and it was causing great difficult to get the procedure done. After all that intense pain, they said everything looked good and I didn't have any blockage. Once again, there was that "Oh see! Everything is good!", but I didn't feel happy. I just saw that I still don't have any answers.  I had more lab work done to see how my hormone levels were doing and despite the fact that my progesterone levels were incredibly low, my doctor continued to say it was nothing to worry about and just to keep trying.

We had N tested also and everything seemed find with his little guys. I won't lie and say that I wasn't disappointed. There was a part of me, whether right or wrong, that hoped that it was an issue on his part and not on mine. I wouldn't blame him at all. It would be a simple issue at that point. But so far everything was pointing to me...and I felt shame and blamed myself...even though I knew I shouldn't.

The next appointment consisted of saying that maybe I had endometriosis, but we would have to do surgery to figure that out. The plan laid before me was simple: do the surgery, TTC for six months, then try artificial insemination, and if all that failed then my doctor would send me to a fertility specialist. I left feeling so discouraged...so hopeless. I sat in the car and wept. I hate going to doctors appointments alone and in that moment the loneliness was crushing.

It took several weeks of strong signs pointing me to a certain direction. The direction of what my heart and gut were screaming: "Jump ship! Be true to what YOU want." So I did exactly that. I cancelled my next appointment with my doctor, called and cancelled the surgery plans, and called up a fertility specialist. Three months later, everything my first doctor had ignored was carefully looked at by my new specialist and I was diagnosed with PCOS. I've been taking Clomid and another medication (which I'm stopping because my body feels horrible on it) to help my body ovulate and do what it's supposed to.

And now I must keep waiting. Wait to see if my body does what it's supposed to do... wait to see if my hormones regulate... wait to see if this time I'll get pregnant. I'm hanging on so little hope right now.

We're coming up on our 7 year anniversary and two months later I'll be 28 years old. I never thought this is what life would look like. I never thought deciding to have a baby would end up looking like this. It feels like a slow death to my heart.
 

I'm not really sure what else to say right now... There just seems to be a lot of grief in my heart lately. Whenever someone says "How are you?" I always smile and say "I'm doing good!", but what I don't say is "I'm sad. Really, really sad."

Some Of My Favorite Things:

1. Cool summer days

2. A captivating book

3. Dark Chocolate

4. My mother-in-law's brownies

5. The way my husband kisses me when he gets home from work

6. Clothes that have just been pulled out from the dryer

7. Obsessively watching a new show on Netflix

8. Disney movies

9. Playing Nancy Drew games

10. Enchiladas ...Pretty much all Mexican food

11. Margaritas

12. Spending a rainy day inside, under a blanket and reading a good book

13. The beach

"As soon as you stop thinking about it, then it happens." 

I seriously hate this quote.

It's something people offer others in order to be "helpful". It's one of those annoying placating phrases that they say when they have nothing else to offer.

I've noticed that the only people who say it are those who already have what the other person is longing for or they can't even possibly understand because they don't have it. Regardless it's always said by someone who hasn't ever felt that ache. I have never heard someone who is in the tension and feeling the ache ever offer those words to another in their situation.

Wonder why?

Because those are shitty words that make a person feel shame because their ache is too deep to just "stop thinking" about it.

I wish I could just stop thinking about wanting to have baby. I wish I could stop thinking about the fact that I have been trying for almost a year to get pregnant without any success. I wish I could stop feeling this overwhelming sadness and ache. I wish I could stop thinking about how badly I want to be a mother. I wish I stop feeling the ache every time I see the babies in my family and my friend's babies. I wish I could stop.
According to that phrase then maybe I will become pregnant if I just stop thinking about trying to get pregnant. Wow. My mind is blown.

If only it were that easy.

If only people would stop and think, "What if I were in their position? How would my heart feel if those words were offered to me?"

There is a huge gaping hole in my heart.
It widens more everyday.
My heart aches from its core.
The ache brings tears.
Sometimes there are enough tears to drown a city of mice.
And other days my tears are as dry as a ghost town.

There is a huge gaping hole in my heart.
Every crushed hope leaves a chasm of devastation in its wake.
My heart struggles to continue on this beaten path.
A scream catches in my throat.
The bees in my stomach sting harder.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Its getting harder to breathe.

There is a huge gaping hole in my heart.
I'm tired of hearing nothing.
Or hearing a no.
Or whatever you call this.
I'm beat up.
I'm bruised.
I'm tired.
I'm lonely.
I'm here.
I'm present.
I'm trying.
I'm numb.
I'm pretending to see light in darkness.

There is a huge gaping hole in my heart.
Why does everything hurt.

I came up with a list of possible titles if I were ever to write a book or more specifically an autobiography:

Never Trust a Skinny Baker

The View From a Short Girl in High Heels

Cupcakes, Boobies, and Other Fun Things

Memoirs of a Book Whore

Dear God, Am I Related to Santa Claus? 

From Closet Nerd to Preppy Geek

Cupcake Drunk 

Save a Bookcase, Buy a Book

Awkward Turtles, Little Cows

Dear God, Are You Sure I'm Not An Elf? 

Let Me Slap the Stupid Off Your Face

Yes. I Am Laughing At You. 

Please Get Out of the Bathroom. I Have to Pee. 

More Ramblings...

I felt like it was time to start blogging again. Writing a new story in this safe place felt right and keeping the same name was perfect for me. I feel like no matter how much I might change I will always be a Confused Muse and I will always ramble. I get a funny little picture in my head when I say my blog name and it makes me smile. So the name stays. 

I haven't kept a blog lately because I just haven't had the time to write. Another reason is that I'm afraid of being really honest in my blog and people might find it, read it, know my business or think that it's about them. I'm at the point now that I'm going to just say "Screw it.".  If no one finds this blog then great. If some one does, fine. If you read it to be nosy, oh well. If you get mad, too bad. If you get offended by my language, I'm sorry.  

I'm tired of hiding my words. 

Move over bitches. 

The Confused Muse is back.