Life has been going pretty good lately. Or rather, I’ve kind of been puttering along doing things, keeping busy, and nothing bad has happened or sprung to mind. To me this is positive. Productive. There have been ups and downs, though.

The good: I really enjoy the people I’ve been training with. When the trainer steps out we chat, and we seem to have similar interests and personalities. Even the trainer is really great, too.

The bad: We’re all going to different locations after training. Bugger.

The good: I seem to have gathered a nice little wardrobe for work, about 5 or 6 shirts that look good on me and are professional and polished. Grey slacks that fit well and are also very nice, and go with everything. I am very pleased about getting dressed each day. I feel so… mature. And not in that synonym-for-old kind of way.

The bad: It’s cold in the building! I spend all day shivering in my cute little short-sleeve shirts. I’m really hoping my new location will be a tad bit warmer, or I’m going to have to ditch my shirts in favor of long sleeves. Maybe I’ll just try to buy a blazer or sweater or something.

The good: Getting up early to have a shower has not been too hard on me, physically – I’m not falling asleep during the day or anything. I actually feel pretty perky.

The bad: Getting up at that hour puts me in direct conflict with Den getting ready. To those of you who don’t know, we have one very small bathroom with a pedastal sink. Den’s had years of getting his routine down to an artform, so when I come banging on the door saying, “DEN! I need to use the bathroom TOO!” it kind of screws both of us up. It was so much easier when I slept in until after he left.

The good: I do own a blowdryer.

The bad: It sucks. It’s a little travel blowdryer that worked just fine for the two times a year I ever needed it. But on a daily basis? Yeah, totally not good enough. It’s roasting my poor hair. I think I need a diffuser. And more speeds/settings. And some knowledge on how to do this. My hair hates me. (And I hate it. I want my pregnancy hair back, pronto. Whatever they gave me in the interim just sucks.)

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And lastly…

The good: I think Devin’s tree is going to survive!

The bad: I think only one branch of Devin’s tree is going to survive.

Sometimes being stuck in the middle is almost more frustrating than losing it completely. I hate having to just “wait and see.” It’s painful to drive up every day and see it there… I’ve been averting my eyes and trying to just not think about it. I really just don’t have it in me anymore. I can’t do anything more about it at this point, and I can’t handle being freaked out upset every day, so instead I just slam down the wall and cut myself off for the time being until I can decide if I should feel relieved or upset. Then I’ll go from there.

I AM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW I COULD SHRIEK!! I called BC/BS and confirmed that my employer’s plan number does cover infertility services including IVF/GIFT/ZIFT, no limits. I am so relieved I could seriously faint right now. I’ve been so damn scared that I got this job and was moving along nicely and was going to be told in 3 months, “Oh, that? No, we don’t cover that. We fall under this rule where…” And then I was going to run crying out the door. It wouldn’t be pretty. So this? THIS? So freakin’ relieved.

IVF is definitely on for Nov/Dec… Nov 16 is when my insurance kicks in. I could be pregnant early in the new year. I may start crying.

I’m exhausted so I’d really like to cut out soon as the diving is done and go to sleep (mmm, sleeeeep). But today at work I found on our intranet what their health plans are. Of course searching on the BC/BS website got me nowhere, so I’m going to have to call and hope they will tell me what the different plans offer in terms of coverage for infertility. I’m getting very nervous about it. I just don’t trust in anything – even if it’s the law. Even though this is a big enough company, based solely in MA, I just can’t help worrying that there’s some kind of loophole. Especially when I saw that they’re subscribed to BC/BS of New England, not BC/BS of Massachusetts. Is there a difference? Anyone who has one of those able to give me any insight here?

I don’t know what I’ve been doing, exactly, though I think I’ve been clenching my jaw in a truly spectacular way, but my jaw is killing me. My left side, right where my jaw hinges. I know my dentist told me that soreness there is from clenching/grinding, and it’s really no wonder that I’ve been clenching with starting my new job. All today it was really sore and popping every time I yawned. Then tonight when I ate dinner, I opened my mouth really wide to take a bite of something and just yelped as a jolt of pain hit me from my jaw there. So I can’t open my mouth more than halfway. Great, right? *sigh* It hurts.

Training is still going just fine. I’m still enjoying it and find myself looking around thinking about my future there – as in, I can picture myself still there in several years. I may take a couple years off to raise our children, but I do think I’ll be going back for the long term. Depends on how the actual work goes, of course – my stress level could go up quite a bit once I’m at my post, but they prepare people well and I will be shadowed for a while until I feel comfortable.

To be honest, I find myself just not worrying as much as I would have before (before I became a deadbaby mama). Perspective. I’m not nearly as mousy and nervous as I ever used to be. I was always worried about saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing… and maybe part of it is simply maturity and coming from a position of strength at my current job. Now I make sure to dress well and prepare myself, and then I walk in knowing I can handle whatever they throw at me. I was joking around with the girls today – nicely, of course. But I find it quite astonishing that I’m able to do that with people I just met in a situation like a brand new job. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I don’t care, as it’s obvious I do care to some degree and take steps to prepare, but I am not paranoid. It’s a really good feeling.

A friend of mine on a forum was talking about needing time to focus on herself after her baby loss before pursuing their next step. Now mine was forced upon me, as was hers, and I’m not quite as positive about it as she appears to be, but at the same time I do recognize that I think it is good for me. Even though the waiting kills me on one hand, on the other it’s giving me some time to get back on my feet before diving into a pregnancy-after-a-loss – something I know is going to be very stressful of its own accord.

In the bathroom at work today, while washing my hands, I glanced in the mirror. Even with makeup on my face just looks… older. I don’t know if it’s my skin starting to age a little bit or if it was just the effect of the weariness in my eyes from everything I’ve gone through, but I was quite shocked. I’ve never been afraid of aging, I’ve never worried about lines or sagging or getting old, and suddenly today I could see in my mind’s eye my face as it might look in 30 years, 50 years. It scared the hell out of me. It was like someone whacked me on the back of my head and I realized, all at once, that I will get old someday. I’ve been living in the naivete of youth. It’s not even that I worry about where it’s going, exactly. It’s just that I realize from experience that certain things, once lost, can never be gained back. Time changes things irrevocably. I’m not so sure I’m ready for that.

First day of work went well. I walked out feeling very positive, looking forward to my future. The people were nice, the bank seems like a very good place to work. Training is going to be extensive, before they ever put us near the teller line, which definitely is a good thing. Training is like school – which for me is fun. I found out that my insurance will indeed kick in the day I am eligible. Now I just need to somehow verify that it does actually cover IVF – I’ve been kicked by the universe too many times to take it for granted that the law will actually come into play, even though there seems to be no loopholes for it to be ignored. We’re getting closer.

I am glad, however, that I waited this long to get a job. I could probably have done it a month ago, but not before that. Having to be around people who don’t know, having to be cheerful and positive… it’s hard, at times. Actually what I had the hardest time with was concentrating. I kept thinking about other things, wondering if people were going to ask about children and such. I actually do that a lot while driving, which is a little scary… but I’ll suddenly blink and realize the last thing I remember doing was two streets ago. This attention thing is getting better with time, but it’s just now getting to the point where I think I can perform a professional job to an acceptable degree.

I think I’m going to like working two very different part-time jobs. I like the change, the challenge. I would do well with a full-time desk/paper job, but right now I enjoy the one job I have had and it looks like my other job will be enjoyable as well. Different, but good. I like keeping my brain busy.

I came home and played WoW. Drained my brain, sapped my energy. Zoned out. Watched some olympics. Not much left over. I like it that way now.

First day of work – orientation – is tomorrow. I am nervous, but not freaking-out nervous. I have my clothes layed out, new shampoo and soap ready for an early-morning shower, my paperwork in a folder beside my purse. I’m ready to go. I just keep telling myself it’ll be like a fun class – I get to learn something new. And they pay me for it.

This is also the start of my 3-month countdown. One foot in front of the other.

The hardest part about this week is that I have NO idea what my schedule is looking like. My orientation is the “figure out what days I’ll be coming in for training” day, so until tomorrow I’m completely clueless as to what they need/expect. It has made it very difficult to make any kind of appointments or plans for work or shopping or anything at all really. And that is hard on me, mentally. I hate not knowing. I hate leaving things to chance. But so far I’ve been okay with just letting go and waiting until tomorrow. It’s an accomplishment for me.

One of the appointments I made was for a therapist. The woman at social services had given me a name and I left my contact info after being told the therapist was on vacation. I didn’t expect to hear back from her in a while, much less on a sunday. She’s booked for a few weeks, but given the work scheduling uncertainty that’s just fine with me. I have an appointment for September 8 or 9… I forget which. She sounded nice. I’m still just very pessimistic about how someone is going to be able to help me at all. I’m an introspective person, I examine and work through my thoughts right here. I can certainly see how a therapist would be helpful for someone who didn’t already do that… but me? Regardless, I’ll go and see what will come of it. Maybe I’ll be pleasantly surprized.

Den was talking to me yesterday about planting a maple tree in our yard. I think we’ve come to an unspoken compromise on the tree issue… Den really wants a fruit tree out front, not too big and bearing fruit. I really want something long-living, green, and bigger. So we’re going to do both. If the cherry dies (my opinion is still out on that one) we’ll replace it. I do like the idea of a cherry tree, I like what it symbolises… and it really was so pretty in bloom. A maple tree isn’t nearly so showy. And, damnit, I got used to the idea of a cherry tree and I want a cherry tree, damnit. So we’re going to choose somewhere in our backyard for a maple. We always planned on planting more trees out back – nice ones, planted with concious thought instead of the forest of ugly pine trees we have right now. So this will be the first step.

I’m pleased with this compromise, but it has been rough emotionally in accepting it. One of the lessons that has gotten hammered into my head over and over again this year is that you can’t plan things. Or, rather, that you HAVE to be able to adapt. It’s never going to work out exactly how you sketched it out in your mind. I had this picture in my head of our yard with the cherry, and my scrapbook with the yearly updates. Not getting pregnant when I planned to was another hard zig-zag in my life plan. Obviously losing Devin was the biggest, most devastating. But all of them required me to re-adjust myself, required a period of adaptation before I realized that life was going to be okay in the end. My scrapbook is not ruined because the tree won’t be the same. I will still be a mother, even if it wasn’t at 24, or 25, or 26. And my life is not completely worthless without my first son present. This is not an easy lesson for me to learn.

As I drove to the grocery store today I noticed a large tree in someone’s yard. It was dead. This huge 50-60 ft tree, magestic limbs… all completely devoid of foliage. All trees die. Even the huge ones, even the strong ones. I thought about our choice to memorialize Devin in a tree rather than something permanent. We could have chosen a more lasting memorial. But then it wouldn’t have been living, breathing, growing. I would not have been able to watch it bloom and grow taller every year; I would not have been able to watch it branch out unexpectedly in ways that only living things do. In exchange for all of that we get a finite life span, a risk. It could live 30 years, it could die tomorrow. But to me the risk is worth it, it is befitting of my son. And if it dies we will replant and try again.

Please go over and give a new friend of mine some support at her blog, Hot Mama Bear. She lost her baby just 3 weeks ago and has started a blog to help work through it. I know how wonderful this community can be, and I hope she finds some comfort here in blogland.

Remembering Sally Ann. The world is a darker place without her spirit here with us, with her parents where she belongs.

You know what I recently realized? Devin’s 6-month birthday comes only days after my own birthday. Suck suck suck. And here I thought my birthday was going to be a bad one in any case, without considering the timing issue on top. I think I’m just going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

This is the first year, ever, that my birthday makes me really upset. And it’s not because of the age. It’s simply that, for many months, I really believed I’d be celebrating this year with a baby. Turning a year older, now, means absolutely nothing to me but a reminder of where I am not.

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I am sorry I have had little more to say recently, and it’s not because I have been holed up in my bed sobbing for days. I have actually been working… a lot. For the first time in my life I find it preferable to spend my entire concious day working, then coming home and watching some olympics before going to bed. This week I’ve had the dubious pleasure of shaving some cats, microchipping some cats, filling out a ton of adoption and intake paperwork, etc. Life at a sanctuary is fun. It’s certainly unique. As Den said to me the other day, “Not many people come home and say, ‘I shaved three cats today at work.'”

This seems to be a very good time to immerse myself in work, because we are in the middle of a big transition and there is a ton to be done… and much stress to be shared. I seem to be the only one not affected by the stress flying around between my coworkers… I simply have a very different perspective on the whole thing. Okay, so we don’t get this paperwork to print by that date. So? We get it done the next day. We’ll deal. So the others are stressing and I am just plugging along. I really enjoy working on paperwork and systems. Busy work. I really really enjoy busy work.

So life hasn’t really been bad lately. It hasn’t been good, either. It just… is. Tomorrow I have an adoption clinic to go to, to help my boss, and then I prepare for my first day of training on Monday. I’m already having nightmares about that… the same stupid shit, I dream that I woke up late, or that I forgot and showed up on the wrong day, or whatever. How irritating. How come I got to skip all the cool pregnancy dreams, but get vivid crappy ones when not pregnant?

Life right now is a dog chewing on something at my feet and a cat curled around my neck. How can you feel bad with a cat purring in your ear?

I’ve been watching a lot of Olympic coverage. I don’t remember watching much of the previous Olympics, even though for the last winter and summer Olympics I must have been here in this house. I vaguely remember flipping through some things. But this year it’s become a routine for us… we come home, eat something, turn on the Olympic coverage and watch until we absolutely have to turn it off and get some sleep. It’s enjoyable. It’s something for us to do together.

I still have serious doubts as to whether or not that tree is going to live. I walk out there every day with an air of disappointment and despair. I’d beg it to live, but I’m far past the point where I believe that good will or intentions prevent bad things from happening. It will either die or it won’t, and there is little more I can do about it at this point. I am following the instructions. I’ve done what I can – the rest is up to the universe and how bad 2008 is going to suck overall.

The top half of the tree was just laying on the lawn beside the rest of the tree where the arborist left it. Initially I was going to toss it in the woods, though I also had a very strong wish to throw it in the woodchipper with a scream and many tears. Instead, today, I picked it up and carried it inside. I sat it on my desk behind my monitor, half a tree. I cannot decide if it is comforting or depressing. But I know I can’t quite let it go right now.

I aleady have plans to plant a new tree. Originally it was an “if this tree dies” plan, but I’m thinking I might do it anyways. I get sad thinking about how a cherry tree only lives 20 to 30 years – something we did not know when we planted it. (Note to others: do research before planting a memorial tree. Apparently fruit trees, while very symbolic, aren’t exactly the best choice for this.) So I’ve been thinking about a maple tree of some sort…. I’ve always loved my parents’ variegated maples, and we have a huge, gorgeous japanese maple that we both adore. Den doesn’t want a huge tree in the front, so I’ll probably pick somewhere out back. I really love the idea of a tree being around long after we are gone. As long as it outlives me. My children can deal with it then, and it won’t really matter. If this cherry dies, Den may very well want to replace it with a new fruit tree, and I’m totally fine with that. I’ve had to get used to the idea of two trees, but this whole ordeal has forced me to accept what I did not want to… to view things in a different way.

After thinking about all of this for a little while today I went out back to my small vegetable garden (which doesn’t hold much anymore, and is getting a little overgrown) to look at the small japanese maple trees I re-planted this year. Every year we get tons of seedlings sprouting around our yard from the big tree, and this year I finally hunted down some good ones and transplanted them to a safe corner of my garden where I can nurse them. The smallest ones started this year; the larger two I rescued from quieter spots in the yard where they had been left undisturbed since their sprouting last year. I thought to myself, wouldn’t that be fitting? A tree that sprouted last year… when Devin’s little egg was just turning into an embryo. Possibly a good choice. So I will watch these little trees and see if I want to choose one of them. But I’m still quite fond of the idea of a variegated maple – we do not have one of those yet. Either way I will decide next year… on his birthday, or his due-date-birthday (because March 6 may still be too early to plant a new tree).

I had this plan, you see. A plan that this cherry tree would be His Tree, and I would take photos of it every year for his scrapbook, that we’d take photos of us with it, our future children with it. That it would be a thread running through our lives, a way for him to be with us. We started this year. I took photos of it of us with it, I made scrapbook pages. The very real possibility that it won’t be there next year, that we’ll have to start again with a new tree, leaves me feeling so lost. I need something to cling to, goddamnit. I need some kind of thread that will carry me from this year to the next. I cannot start fresh every year. That takes all the meaning out of it.

Dear Universe: YOU SUCK. You took my fertility, you took my son, and now you’re taking his damn tree, too. Throw me a fucking BONE, will you please.

I am very, very angry, and I do not like feeling this way. I miss the person I used to be… naive and foolish as she was. At least she was happy. At least she believed that things could work out for the best. I feel like I walk around every day with a 50lb weight strapped to my back. I just feel like weeping because I am so damn tired of not being able to stand up straight.

We lost half the tree today. I say lost it today, but in reality it was already dead – I was just trying to convince myself it was going to be okay. I had an arborist out to look at it, who quickly determined that the top half of the tree was dead, and promptly cut it off. The bottom branches are still looking good though – he said it’s very promising.

I came inside, freaked out, starting crying hysterically. I shot off a couple of emails during which I realized this has just gone too far for me. I hate to speak it because I know it’s going to freak people out, but I feel myself edging too close to becoming suicidal. I’m not there yet. But I’ve been thinking too much, too scarily, in the moments that I freak out and I just can’t keep doing this anymore. I need to do something about it or I’m worried about how far down this is going to take me. It’s not that I want to die – I just want to stop hurting. Losing half that tree felt like having my heart ripped out all over again. Stabs of pain right from my temple down to my toes.

I dug through my pile of papers from the hospital to find some of the lists they gave me with bereavement resources. I called social services, said I need to find a therapist of some sort who who has experience with child loss. I was referred to someone. Unfortunately they’re on vacation for the week, but I should hear back next week. I might put in some more calls tomorrow, I’m not sure. I also don’t even know what I’m looking for… therapist? Psychologist? Psychiatrist? Who knows.

I just feel so discordant. Most of the time I feel fine (as far as “fine” can be, less than 6 months after your baby died). I’m capable, I’m productive, I’m social. But all it takes is a crack… one little crack in my armor. And I fall to pieces. I fall into that pit. I lose it. I don’t feel strong. I don’t feel strong at all.

When I told my co-worker what my schedule will be like this fall she said, “That doesn’t leave much time off.” “I know,” I replied, “it’s on purpose.” My goal for this year is just to get through it.

I’m completely bloated and burping up a storm. It’s aweful. Ugh!! AF sucks.

With AF right in my face I’ve been staring at the calendar trying to envision how this is going to go, when we’re going to get to do IVF. I become eligible for health insurance 90 days after starting, which will fall mid-November. Now I’m assuming it’ll take a week or two to actually get coverage, so I was thinking I’d be starting my BCP cycle with my December cycle, and end up with my IVF cycle – with retrieval and transfer – in January.

But I’m thinking here. I know an IVF cycle has to get pre-approved by insurance. So I can’t order meds until I get approval. But… can I do BCP before? I can pay for BCP myself, that’s not an issue. Would insurance consider the BCP cycle part of the IVF cycle? I think there’s a good chance I could get that in. Retrieval and transfer in December. September due date. There’s no way, even if I did do retrieval and transfer in December, that I would actually know if I was pregnant or not by Christmas. But it’s a step closer.

I don’t even know why a couple weeks matters so much, but I just. can’t. stand. the waiting. It sucks so effing bad and I just want to get pregnant again. Devin’s 6-month birthday is coming up next month, which depresses the hell out of me, and the only way I can see actually enjoying this Christmas is knowing I have an embryo inside of me… a real, honest chance at this pregnancy and baby thing.

I’ll add this to my list of things to talk to the doctor about. It’s a long list.