So the Baptism was a bit of a disaster for me. For one thing I am not Christian, and that specific church is a little bit… special. Think sing-song chanting bible verses. Very weird, very over the top for us. The priest’s words while sending the children to children’s church didn’t really put me in a great mood to start with: “Let us give thanks, children are G*d’s gift!”

And of course the service was all about how important being Baptised is to G*d and, my favorite line, “Those of you here who haven’t been Baptised may wonder why your life is so chaotic.” That just felt way too personal to me. I had far too much time during the service to just feel angry, thinking about Devin. By the time the children were all brought back in to watch the Baptism I wasn’t in a very stable mood and as the service wound to a close I found myself gripping the pew in front of mine, tears rolling down my cheeks as a little boy walked up and down the aisle beside me during the Eucharist (which, of course, we did not partake in). Den held my hand and passed me a tissue, which I used to dab at my eyes. I fought the urge to run out of the church during the final prayer. I held on, focussed on breathing. Wound too tight.

Everyone filed out slowly and I walked into the small foyer to find it crowded with parents and children stopping to chat. I (somewhat rudely) shoved through, banged out the front door, and ran into the parking lot sobbing. I just totally lost it. Den ran out behind me and held me for a few minutes while I cried. My son was supposed to be there. We were not supposed to be sitting alone today.

I settled down after that. It helped that SIL’s mom and grandmother both came over to give me a hug and tell me that it’s okay to feel sad and mourn our loss whenever the grief hits. They are really so very kind.

Afterwards we ate, I photographed (too bad I can’t post any), and the athiest side of the family marvelled at how they could be related to BIL.

It ended on a fine note. But boy I did not expect that kind of reaction from myself during the service. I thought I was just going to doodle in my notebook, roll my eyes at some of the G*d comments, and take photos of BabyH being Baptised. But I forgot about the children, and I didn’t account for what kind of toll having to hold myself still and stately for such a long period of time with nothing to do but think about those children. Fucking sucks, man.

Hangover + period = uggghhhhhhh. I got next to no sleep because the room was spinning and my stomach was upset. I knew my period was coming, so I suspected some of it was that, but I couldn’t really separate the two. Now I just feel crappy. Blech. I never used to get hangovers, before I got pregnant. This is bullshit! Hmph. (The cramps and general icky-ness of AF I am too well aquainted with.)

Yesterday while the men played horseshoes I held BabyH for a while, shifting her around from arm to arm, bouncing her and chatting to her while she watched with wide eyes, taking in the movement and shapes. Den glanced over at me and smiled, then walked over and said, “You look like a natural. You’re going to be the best baby momma ever.” It feels natural, you know? And she’s such a freakin cutie. I’ve offered to babysit her on one of the days that I’m not working and SIL is (she doesn’t start until September) and I hope they let me do that… her parents are going to be babysitting on the other days. I just would really love to have that time with her every week. I really want to be an active part of her life, to be Aunt Nat, the cool one, not just one of the aunts and uncles she sees at special occassions. I love that kid a whole lot and I hope she knows it.

Now excuse me while I lay down before we have to get dressed up and go to church for BabyH’s Christening (I am the photographer! Wheeee). I may be sick. Freaking hell, what a day to be hit with everything at once. (Den asked about breakfast. I looked at him like, “Dude, you want to wear it??”)

Getting drunk worked. I now feel pretty sick, actually. I may have to stop drinking if this continues to be the case… I never used to feel this backlash before I got pregnant. Now my body just does not respond well to alchohol. Ugh.

In the course of the evening we were all sitting around with good friends. One of them isn’t a close friend of Den’s, but a longtime friend of his brother – so, not close enough to know about Devin. I was saying something about religion to the effect of, “I’ve had some people say, ‘God saved my baby!’ – what, does that mean he didn’t like anyone else’s?” This friend, obviously completely clueless, said, “But yours survived! So it’s all good.” Den responded in a very matter-of-fact tone with, “Actually, ours didn’t.” The friend looked MORTIFIED. I think he mumbled, “Oh shit. So sorry, man.” Then stared at the floor for the next five minutes. Den and I looked at each other and proceeded to try to let the guy know that it was okay, that he didn’t know. It took a while to get him to re-join the conversation. I think we totally ruined his night. I’m pretty sure he was willing the floor to open up and eat him.

Yay us. Bringing death and depression everywhere we go since 2008. Sigh.

I feel like I should come with a warning sign. “Hi, I’m Natalie. Just to let you know, we had a baby who died. … You may now resume normal conversation.”

Yelling at the universe to hurry it up finally worked: period is on its way. Cervix was open this morning and when I checked just now I see a streak. I am amused in a not-so-amused kind of way… I’m heading to the pool. Can it hold off for a few hours?

I somehow think it’s going to hit in full tomorrow. Now Natalie, you would ask, why are you so sure of that? Because the dates. Cycle 1 started on May 10, Cycle 2 started on June 10, Cycle 3 started on July 10, and tomorrow is – you guessed it – August 10. WTF kind of pattern is that? Months don’t all have the same amount of days in them!

So yes, I am heading to a friend’s now, with booze, and I am going to get drunk and let my husband drive me home.

God I’m such a sap. I’m watching on my DVR the Olympic Opening Ceremony and I just got to the part where China enters.

The announcers spoke of the 9 year old boy, Lin Hao, who was in the earthquake a few months ago. He freed himself, then went back to pull two classmates from the rubble and carry them to safety. When asked why he did that he apparently said, “I’m a class leader, a hall monitor. It’s my responsibility.”

And here I am, sitting on the couch crying. Sheesh. He’s the cutest little boy, too.

The sheep – the stuffed sheep given to us as a gift after Devin died – lives between our pillows on the bed. Sometimes he falls down between the wall and the mattress; sometimes he sits up between our heads as we sleep. He’s always there.

Den frequently reaches for him when we are in bed. He holds him, sits him down on his chest, looking at it with far too much sadness in his eyes, knowing why the sheep is here. Today he said to me, “This sheep always makes me sad.” He sighed.

I looked over a few minutes later and Den was asleep… the sheep laying across his face.

::

The lawn and garden center called me back today. The tree expert agreed with the woman I spoke to, that it’s a fungus and needs this spray. I went to pick it up today, along with a sprayer and some fertilizer for later. She said the tree sounds like it will survive, though we may lose the main stem branch – which is sad in its own right, since Den picked this particular tree out because of how nice and strong and straight that main stem was. But it will live and that’s all that matters to me. She did say that if not treated it most certainly would have died.

I got two calls from arborists I called… neither service this town. I have a call in at one other arborist company that I haven’t heard back from yet. I’m getting rather pissed. Especially since at least one of the companies I called say on their website that they service “the valley area” and “western MA.” So perhaps they should have been a little more specific and I wouldn’t have wated their time and mine.

I read up a little on tree diseases. It’s depressing, to be honest. Makes me wish we chose a pet rock, instead. It’s too scary to have something live. There’s too much that could happen to it. How could I invest so much of my heart in something so fragile? It feels like I’m just begging to get hurt again. Maybe at least a pine tree that will grow to 100′ and live for 200 years. As long as it outlives me, right? But a cherry tree? How long will that last? Not long enough, I suspect. Not nearly long enough. It should live forever, to make Devin’s mark upon this world everlasting.

I have built myself back up again after our terrible loss, but I have built myself up using that tree is a foundation. Devin’s handprints; Devin’s photo; the tree… these are the things that I cling to, the concrete base to my sanity. If one of them should break I will come tumbling down. I cannot afford that right now. I teeter on my platform.

::

I cheated. I looked at the calendar. I wish I hadn’t – or, rather, I wish I hadn’t needed to. I started thinking AF was overdue and I had to look and remind myself that that was not the case. I am incredibly idiotic sometimes. How many times does one have to run into a wall before you stop running? My period should arrive Monday-ish. Although I have bets in that it will arrive Sunday afternoon, when I am at BabyH’s christening at church.

I just want it to show up. Now. Soon. I am prepared for it now… and I beg for it to come now, while I am braced, rather than give myself some time to relax a little. Why does it do that? Why does it always wait until you let your guard down? Then it’ll get in a nice uppercut while I’m looking off to the side. Freaking bitch.

Just saving this for later… a book(?) about cells and meiosis.

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/bv.fcgi?rid=cooper.section.2484

Yes, most of that is greek to me, too. What I do understand is that my eggs aren’t proceeding through meiosis properly. Something isn’t triggering properly to cause meiosis to resume, like it normally would. The hCG trigger (fake LH surge) is what is supposed to do that.

Now if I could just figure out how to make this information useful I’d be laughing.

I decided we’re going to hire an arborist to take care of the tree. Screw this, I’m not fooling around with it. If it was “just a tree” then fine, I’ll play around with it. But I’m terrified I’m going to screw up, and I am seriously worried at this point about what that would do to my mental stability. I really had an unpleasant mental freak-out this afternoon, complete with weeping and rocking in the fetal position and a strong desire to start smashing things. Some wispy thoughts of quitting everything and running away back to Canada. I really think I had a bit of a mental break with reality, and it was very not cool. (Only Kel got to see most of it, and I actually erased a couple sentences from the email I sent her, lest she’d freak out and call the cops to come check on me. I know better than to say some things, even in the midst of a really really bad day.)

So. That is the plan. I’ll talk to the “expert” at the local home and garden center to see what I can do in the meantime, I already have an email in to a local arborist, and then I’m going to pray (no, not to g-d… how far gone do you think I am?). Please let this tree live. Please let this be soon enough to reverse the damage already done.

::

I am left feeling a little dazed from the day. Just having trouble focussing on anything. Yesterday I was pouring over research; today I have to read the same sentence three times, and I realize I still didn’t quite get it. It’s just that my brain has turned off… perhaps in self-preservation.

I have hopes to do more with the research… and I have ordered copies of my records. Not because I am going anywhere else (yet), but because I want all the data to go over before my appointment. There is still more I want to look at and hopefully will come up with a good plan. It occurs to me that perhaps it’s strange that I’m coming up with my own protocol for IVF, and normally I like to let the experts do what they do, however I am not very encouraged by the doctor’s shrugs and inability to suggest, umm, anything. I really wish I had a biology background. I’m bummed that the college doesn’t have the intro biology class in the evening this semester or I’d definitely be in it.

Oh, and about IVM – in vitro maturation. IVM involves removing oocytes very early in the cycle, after only a couple days of medications, then maturing them in vitro. This is certainly a promising avenue of research for people with oocyte maturation arrest. However there are two problems with it that have made me scratch it off my list. First being that it is still a new procedure and the summaries I have glanced at cite that results have thus far been disappointing. Currently we were able to get SOME mature eggs out of my body harboring them, and I would hate to take a step backwards. It is something I would consider if we had NO current options, for sure, but right now I think the best success will be found in making small changes to what we did last time. The second major problem is that it is experimental, and thus not covered by insurance. I do hope they are able to make progress with it, however, and find a way to help those women who have total oocyte maturation arrest (no mature eggs). Currently in those cases the only solution is donor eggs.

There are a lot of unimportant things in this world. When my bosses were freaking out and I had extremely tight deadlines, I shrugged, got to work, and finished what I could. I did not worry. It wasn’t a big thing.

What is a big thing? Devin’s tree is a big thing. And that tree, it is dying.

I cannot handle this. I CANNOT handle this. I went to the garden store with photos begging for help. She’s going to pass it on to their expert tomorrow and let me know what to do about it. But I am terrified – TERRIFIED – that it is too far gone already.

I am scared what will happen to me if it does die. I can tell you it will not be good.

Today I printed out that article on delayed hCG and oocyte maturity and poured over the details. And then, when I was done that, I looked up the articles it referenced, to see if any of them would be helpful to me. I spent a while looking things up, downloading, jotting down notes.

Den came up behind me and suggested I take a break. “You should take a break before you crash. You do that, you know.”

I looked at him blankly and blinked. “That’s why I need to get this done before I crash.”

“Well, maybe you could avoid crashing if you take some time off from the researching….”

I stared at him. He stared back at me.

He sighed. “I forgot who I’m talking to.”

I went back to reading.

::

He is not wrong, though I see it as less of a “crash” and more as me reaching the end of my objective and moving on. This is how I do things. Maybe it’s not entirely healthy, but it’s effective. I’ve learned to take advantage of it and push until I reach the end. It’s how I clean. It’s how I learn. It’s how I get things done. I have tried doing a little at a time, spread out so as not to overwhelm me. It just doesn’t work well… I waste time, I get confused, I totally lose motivation. I do my best work when I’m kicked into high gear, invested thoroughly into whatever project I’m doing.

I am also doing everything I can to avoid thinking about where I’m at in my current cycle. I have not touched my chart – or opened it – since our appointment. I have not written anything down. I have not checked my cervix. I have not counted days on the calendar. This, I realize, is my way of avoidance. I figure if I stuff enough things into my brain it won’t have the time or capacity to be conjuring up images of a surprize BFP.

Staying focussed on my IVF cycle really has done me a world of good. It’s shifted my mental energy over and set my sights on the future. I am now working towards something, not just drifting aimlessly waiting for “something” to happen. I now have a timeline I can work with. I have some real hope.

I remind myself that it could take two cycles to get pregnant again. That would suck, but it would not be the end of the world.

I’m really struggling with the idea that I won’t be pregnant before Christmas. And thinking that it’s possible I might not even be pregnant by Devin’s birthday. I know, I know – stop worrying about things until they happen. But we’re not getting insurance until mid-november, and knowing insurance it’ll take some time to kick in, so hopefully starting IVF in December. Transfer in Jan or Feb. :( This makes me so upset. Maybe in a few years it won’t matter so much, but the waiting just really seems to magnify our loss. A whole year without Devin, and without any baby. If we’re not pregnant by his birthday… I just don’t know what I’ll do. It won’t be pretty.

Before I was mourning my loss, and hoping I wasn’t still infertile. Now I feel all the old anger and frustration of being infertile come rushing in on me on top of the loss grief. It makes me so damn angry. I can deal with one. I can deal with the other. But for fuck’s sake, don’t give me both at once.

This is why I bury myself in research. No time to sit and feel sorry for myself… and it allows me to have hope in this, that this will all work out. I need to keep busy these next three months, or I am going to go insane. Oocytes and embryos and hCG and meiosis… so very much easier to think about than the fact that I do not have a baby.

I want my little boy so bad. I want another little boy. And I know I will be happy with whatever I get – sex seems like such a petty thing to be upset about – but oh holy hell I want a little boy so very badly. Not to replace Devin, never to replace him. But I got used to it. I looked forward to it. And seeing Devin’s little brother toddling around would help heal my heart a little bit.

It’s been 5 months today. It hurts less. It’s become more of a dull pain. Always there. You kind of get used to it, in a way… you forget how it felt like to not have this ache always with you, tucked in your pocket next to your heart. And it feels more unbelievable every day. Speaking of loss becomes commonplace. The world is so different now… my world is so different. I say things like, “I want at least two live children,” and, “After we lost Devin.” There’s only a slight pause now. It becomes a part of your vocabulary. Your life gets re-defined in a major way and, somehow, us humans get used to it.

I don’t like to think about time, at least not beyond planning for the coming week, and yet it seems to take up a good portion of my thought processes. The time since Devin died, the time until IVF. Sometimes I forget, and then I see something, hear something… how BabyH is 2 months old. That means it’s been 5 months for us. I look at BabyH and realize how she’s changed already. Time is forward, time is cumulative… time reaches towards her future. For me time diminishes, it takes away. Time takes me further from him.