I am so thrilled, so relieved, so hopeful. This is the start of a new era. Maybe it’s a good sign of things to come for my family, bringing my child into the world with a new President.

Watching Obama walk out to cheers brings me almost to tears. I am, finally, proud to live here. I always knew I’d get my US Citizenship, but never felt excited about the idea of calling myself an American. Until now.

It IS time for change. For me. For all of us.

I am, however, disgusted with some of the questions on state ballots aiming at limiting the rights of same-sex couples – many of which are passing. It makes me so freaking angry. We may have made history tonight, but we still have a long way to go as a country. It is the large shadow on this momentous day.

GO VOTE! You have a chance to do something amazing here: let your voice be heard. YOU get to decide. This is what democracy is founded on, this is why we are free – because we all get a chance to speak up and let our voices be heard.

I know some of you are torn. I will ask you to look up the issues, read and compare, and ask yourself who you want leading your country. Who do you want to be the face of America to the rest of the world? Who do you want leading this country into its next era? Who do you think will start to repair what is broken? But please, PLEASE don’t shrug your shoulders and skip the vote. Educate yourself, then make a decision, any decision.

And don’t think that just because you are in a solid blue or red state that your voice doesn’t matter. It does! Like water droplets in the sea, they all blend together, but you need each individual drop to be present. And think of what is happening today, states are changing colors! Or at the very least becoming battleground states where they weren’t before. That’s because someone like you has spoken up, even though it goes against the grain – then another, then another. Every number matters. Every number counts.

I want to see a HUGE record being set this year, with the most voter turnout ever. I want this country’s president to be determined because we ALL spoke, not just some of us. Let’s show the government that we all care.

I am not yet a U.S. citizen – that won’t happen until next spring. I have lived here for 3 years, and will be living here the rest of my life, will be raising my children here… but I do not have a voice. So do it for me. Stand up for your rights proudly, the rights you are given as a citizen of this country. Don’t take it for granted.

Vote.

In a big DUH moment last night I realized why for the past few weeks I’ve been taking two hours to fall asleep and sleeping like crap: we removed the air conditioner. It’s too quiet. Or, rather, it’s not only so quiet that my ears are buzzing, but every little breath that my husband makes behind me sounds ten times louder. I can’t friggin sleep.

Apparently I need a white noise machine. I also need an air purifier, so maybe I’ll just get a noisy purifier and kill two birds with one stone.

::

My husband has a dog that I don’t really get along with. This morning when I get out bed I saw him laying on the floor and, for whatever reason, it just struck me. I knelt down and gave him a hug. You could see the look in his eyes go from wariness to confusion to happiness. He leaned over to lick my hand, and sighed happily as I scratched his neck and hugged him again.

It struck me then what a terrible bitch I have been to my furkids the last year. I was really tired when I was pregnant, so I didn’t spend much time with them. But at least when I was pregnant and tired I wasn’t mean. Since Devin died, I have to say, my patience with them all is at about nil. I just get so frustrated with all of them. I don’t want to hear them make noise, I’m tired of picking up things they knock all over, I’m tired of vacuuming daily to keep up on the fur. I don’t want to play. Quite frankly I just want them to go away.

And it wrenches me inside. This is not who I am. I vowed to do better for them than this. They deserve better. I don’t know how to get past this irritation level, but I need to start making it up to them. I need to spend more time with them.

Last night my little dog jumped up on the bed and I started playing with her. When she realized I was playing it was like she started glowing, the grin on her face was huge. When she’s happy she sparkles anyways, but you could just see the joy radiating from her as she mock-growled and smacked at my hand, dancing in place with her tail wagging furiously. I laughed so hard at her antics – real, deep belly laughs that I haven’t heard in a while from myself. It was brief, quickly over, but it’s there.

This evening when I got home both dogs whined as they pressed against me, so happy I was home. Den’s dog wantered off and I thought at first he had lost interest and decided to go back to sleep. But he went into his crate, then turned and came back out… with a toy. He brought me a present. It made me want to cry.

If we had even half the capability of forgiveness that they did, we would be saints.

On Glow In The Woods today there is an interview with Lorraine Ash, who wrote the book Life Touches Life. I have not read the book, but after reading the interview I am running out to buy it. I can see myself 9 years down the road, I can see myself being okay, being past this deep pit. And that’s a good thought.

I am still remarkably angry and I don’t think it’s going to begin to abate until I get pregnant. I feel other things, of course, but most of all I am just angry and frustrated. There’s no better way to put it. When I see babies or baby-related things – even if it’s announcements from people who have been through the grief of a stillbirth or other loss – it makes my insides crunch together like someone is sitting on my chest. But it’s not just weight, it’s the tears and pain of frustration.

I realized that this is – and probably will remain – the worst period in my life. I do have the knowledge that IVF works, which is one piece of information I did not have before Devin existed, but still. I am dealing with the overwhelming grief of our loss, and the grief of infertility, and the frustration of not being able to cycle right away.

The combination is trying to kill me, I think. It is hard to keep my head above water. I almost feel like the early grieving was much easier… at least it was much more linear and understandable. I took time off, I grieved hard and whole-heartedly. It was a bottomless pit, but at least it was just one pit and you know you’re stuck in it. Now I feel like I’m navigating a minefield. I get out, I fall in, I sidestep, I blow up… it makes no logical sense at all sometimes, and I’m pingponging around. I’m trying to hold on to hope, but how do you really encompass something positive when you feel so goddamn angry all the time?

No wonder I’m trying to drown myself in work. Maybe after I get pregnant again I’ll be able to back off a bit – when I have something good in my present that I can experience. When I’m pregnant I’ll want to stop and savor those moments, that knowledge. Right now every time I stop I think about how I’m not pregnant, do not have a baby.

I know there are other things in life out there. Other good things – probably things I should think about more often. But quite frankly right now I just can’t. The pets piss me off more often than not, the house is a disaster, being social is a hit-or-miss activity. I’ve come to the conclusion that for this month of November I’m probably going to just feel shitty, and maybe I should just accept that and let it be. Just one month. December will be different, for better or for worse. But for right now I’m tired of picking myself up out of pits and falling back in. I’m bruised. I’m sore. I’m tired. And maybe I’m just going to curl up in the bottom of one and take a nap. I’ll deal with climbing out later. I am giving myself permission to just feel shitty.

3 weeks until my last birth control pill, then another 4 or 5 days until stims. That’s all. I’m setting a note on my calendar, each sunday is one more week down – one week closer to feeling better.

Today is housecleaning day, nothing exciting to write about. So I figured I would share some photos through the years. My journey being me.

First, some baby photos.

Bald.

3 years old

5 years old, with my little brother

::

And then my journey into/through adulthood…

So far everything still seems on track. A couple of calls from the nurses today, the first one saying that they want me to start Lupron on the 16th, and take my last BCP on the 19th. And I said wait no no, insurance doesn’t start until November 18th or thereabouts! So they’re having me stay on the pill an extra week (or so). It’s a very tight line we’re walking. We have to start stims by November 29 in order to get on the clinic’s calendar before they close for the year. My insurance starts November 18. We may be paying for Lupron out of pocket, but I hope we can get the rest of it squared away before starting stims.

I am excited, but nervous. I think this pretty much lays out my year to come… I suspect I really am going to have to take it one step at a time. Right now my concern is getting the insurance approval. Then, when that is sorted, I’ll start worrying about my eggs and getting a good embryo. Then I’ll worry about it sticking. Then, if/when I do get pregnant I’ll worry if there’s a heartbeat… worry that something is wrong during the diagnostic ultrasounds… and then, of course, the big worry that at some point the baby’s heartbeat will simply stop for no reason. There’s just too much to worry about, there really is. So I set my sights on the first thing in line, and focus solely on that. Right now: insurance.

I am scared. I am scared that this won’t work. I know that this will not be the end of the road – far from it, we’ll just do it again – but I really need this to work the first time. For me. And I am just terrified that this time we’ll get no embryos.

Oh, I got my sonohysterogram scheduled for next friday morning. Not ideal in terms of work, but it’s what they can get me so obviously I’m going to take it. Thankfully my boss is totally fine with me taking time off for this stuff, she said I can come in early to make up the time lost or just take the time off, that’s totally up to me. She seems very supportive and I am enormously appreciative.

Today is the one-year anniversary of the silent birth of Callum, C’s son. She wrote a post about that day. You don’t need to say anything…. but you need to read it.

You know what is somewhat depressing in a weird way? When you get a bug up your butt to finally go through your medical records. So you pull out the envelope you’ve been saving for a rainy day and you finally get to see all the lab reports and IVF history they had in your file. And you realize… I already have all this written down. I flipped through pages looking for some lab report I didn’t yet have notes on… nothing. E2? Progesterone? Prolactin?? Have all the results, already written down, organized and filed by date. In fact… I think my IVF file contains more info than theirs. And mine is neater.

So much for seeing something life-altering in those files.

Even more irritating when you consider I took an hour to find this stupid envelope with my file copies in it. I did the thing where you start where you think it’s going to be, spiral outward with increasing frustration, start trashing your vehicles pulling everything out because maybe it’s lost in there, go back through the house with a flashlight looking under the damn couches and behind cabinets, and then… find it right where you thought it was going to be in the first place. On your desk. But it was a different color than you remember, so your eyes slid right past it the five times you looked on the desk. Yeah, that thing.

But one thing is missing from this file: the fertilization report. The one thing that I really wanted to see. Why wasn’t that in my file? Do they even have a fertilization report? This requires more research.

I stared at the blood with confusion, before it dawned on me. I suppressed a squeal of relief and excitement – I didn’t figure that would sound quite right in the bathroom at work. I nearly teared up.

My period! It has arrived a couple days before I expected it, which puts me perfectly on-course. The impact of it hit me shortly: this is the unofficial start of IVF. This is the start of my suppression cycle. I start birth control pills tonight, and lupron in three weeks. The time draws near.

I spoke with my new boss today about the upcoming cycle, our plans. I told her how the son we lost was an IVF baby and that in order to get pregnant again we need to go through it again. I wanted to let her know that there may be some days I’ll come in an hour late, and I may have to miss a day for retrieval. I don’t really know exactly what days, just that it’s coming. She waved her hand and told me not to worry at all, to take whatever time I needed and just let her know when I find out what days.

I am very grateful. I have done my utmost best to be the best employee I possibly could under the circumstances – to not miss a day, to never be late, to always help when something needs doing. I schedule all my appointments for the days I work at my other job (which is far less time-structured). It has been a juggling act, what with the teeth and the car and the chiropractor and the allergy appointments. (There have been a lot of appointments in the last month.) But I wanted my new employer to know that this is the kind of person I am.

I have been getting positive feedback, and I am feeling more at ease there. The women are nice. The job isn’t too hard or too easy. When I’m busy the days go quickly, and I apprecate that. (When it’s not busy they go slow – I have been reading books.) I am even able to make some phone calls and plan out my week when I have downtime – a luxury I’ve never really had at a job before.

The pregnant coworker is still pregnant and it is wearing thin on me, I think. Not her, she is perfectly nice and understanding. It is all the damn comments. All the customers comment about her, talk about baby things. All the coworkers too (though that is a little easier to handle because I can jump in, as they know my background.) And it’s not like I’m being pushed to tears. It’s just that after 3 hours of customers exclaiming to her that it’ll be “any day now” I start to get a little worn down and frustrated and tired.

But I am glad I got to know her before she leaves on maternity leave, because she is a nice girl. She seems to get it in some ways more than the others. She said I will be the next pregnant one at the bank. I think everyone there has been very understanding, really. Oh a few comments that you know were coming from the right place but come out all wrong, but not too many.

I find myself wanting to take the pregnant one aside. I want to hold her hands and say, Ignore all the comments. Try not to think about the time. He will come when he is ready. Cherish this time you have, waiting. He will come soon, and when he does you will wonder if you are ready yet. It’s okay to be scared, but don’t let it overwhelm you. Take a deep breath. You are woman. Many women have done this before, and you will too. You are strong. You will never be the same again – you will be stronger. Rest. You will need it. Hold my hand, I am here with you. I wish I could infuse her with strength. I wish I could lighten her burden. I wish I could tell her of the joy and wonder of childbirth. I wish I could help her.

Is this what a calling feels like?

Mostly I spend my time picturing me there, working, pregnant. I can see it.

I still have hope. Real hope, now. I knew I probably wasn’t going to get pregnant on my own – some people call that pessimism, I call it realism. I have come to terms with that and moved forward. And now we finally come to our real chance. It may still come up negative, but this December we stand a 50-50 chance of actually being pregnant. And right now that’s the only thing that really brings the spark back into my eyes. Real hope.