One other short little comment.

My period didn’t come today. No, I’m not late, and she’s right on my heels as I have started spotting in preparation for the joyous (snort) event. But she didn’t come today. The 10th of the month. She broke the pattern! May 10, June 10, July 10, August 10…. but no September 10!

Sigh. It was so weird… and yet so cool. So long, cool pattern. I will miss you. *sniff*

AF has finally joined the party – fashionably late, of course. I say late, but in reality this is the first time my LP has been a normal (for me) length since I gave birth. But I’m still ovulating later than I used to. Consequently I had a pretty long cycle: 33 days. Which for me, when my pre-pregnancy cycles were a “perfect” 28 days, seems so long.

I was talking with Kel a bit about my cycles and noted that I remember that slightly longer cycles used to be my norm, back when I was young, naive, and didn’t really actually track my cycles – back before I ever went on the birth control pill. I didn’t write anything down, so the only way I knew when my cycle was coming was because it came on roughly the same day every month… giving me a 30/31 day cycle… maybe a little longer. It was a little surprizing to me when I went off the pill to TTC and found a 28 day cycle, but since it stayed like that for well over a year I just figured I had been wrong about what it used to be as a teenager. But now I’m thinking… what if I wasn’t wrong? What if this is my normal, and the pill weirded something out?

Not that it really means anything. If my infertility problem were as simple as that I’d be pregnant already, now that pregnancy “fixed” me. That’s obviously not the case. I just find it interesting. Maybe I’ll mention it to the RE next week… but I’ll probably have more pressing things to talk to him about regarding IVF.

PS – Cramps suck. Suck suck! Every cycle when I start cramping I moan and wallow and think about how labor was much more pleasant. That is not a lie. Oh, sure, the last hour of labor and delivery was much more intense. But the first 5 hours? Well, shoot. At least they came in short waves, and relaxing really helped. Nothing helps these cramps, and they don’t frickin go away.

Bring on the midol, man. Bring it on.

::

In work news I would like to reassure everyone that my second day was much easier. I wasn’t in nearly as sensitive a mood as I was the first day, so this time when the morning banter started up I threw my comments in. Car seats, baby toys, whatever. Which of course illicited a, “Oh, do you have kids?” My response has been honed to a, “I did. He passed away,” with a small, wistful-yet-pleasant smile. It’s not too shocking or blunt or emotional (which would cause people to take a giant step backwards), it’s short and to the point (as rambling also tends to be a put-off), and the smile lets them know that I’m okay with talking about it… but wistful enough to let them know that it is still, always, painful.

It can be hard to navigate the waters. For people I won’t see again, like a cashier or random conversation, it doesn’t particularly matter how I answer. I answer how I see fit, however my mood is at that moment. Sometimes I want to shock them. My son died – I’m not okay. Sometimes I just don’t want to open that door so I sidestep around it. But situations like this are hard, because it’s their introduction to your world. These are people I’m going to have to deal with daily for quite some time, so I want them to get the right idea – to know what I’ve been going through without being overwhelmed. I want them to get to know me… to get to know him. And I definitely want to leave the door open, because I do like to talk about him. It’s important to me that everyone recognize him as a part of my life. You can’t leave him out and still understand me. He’s a giant piece of my puzzle… without it the picture just doesn’t make sense.

I also found out that, at least for the time being, I’m going to be assigned to one particular station that doesn’t have any baby photos on it. I never brought it up, and the change in plans happened before I ever mentioned Devin. So I’m taking it as a stroke of good fortune in my favor and hoping plans don’t change (which they are apt to do). I feel a little better knowing that I can stake my claim, as it were… develop a rhythm, become familiar with one spot. I like the idea of personalizing it somehow. Maybe not with a photo of Devin… I’ll have to wait some time before doing that, to read everyone else and see if I feel comfortable putting that out there. But I’d like to bring in a little sheep or something.

::

At one point today at work one of my new coworkers asked if this was my first time working at this type of job. I said yes, and she commented that I was so much calmer than when she started. I just smiled and said that I don’t get worked up about much anymore.

It’s true. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, because a lot of shit has been going on at work (my other job). Stuff that, before, would have had me totally stressed out and very upset. It is not stuff specifically about me, however they are Big Deals, things that affect everyone. But I honestly can’t find it in me to even get anxious about it. Angry, sure – I get angry sometimes at the sheer ridiculousness of some of the situations that are occurring. But my anxiety level is so low I have to mentally prod myself to find out if I’m still alive in there. At the end of the day I just shrug and say, “So if this bad thing does happen, what’s the worst that will come of it?” Nothing I can possibly think of is all that horrible.

I’m sure it’s pretty normal for someone who has been through a loss. I survived the worst that could happen… the rest is all icing. I find that my reactions to things are very skewed… tiny, stupid little things cause me to completely fall apart – if those small things involve Devin in any way (like his tree, is grave, or my cat chewing on some papers that I got from the hospital). But anything else I just take in stride. I shrug. Okay. I can deal with this. I do the best that I can… and the rest is just someone else’s problem.

This new job thing… I’m really enjoying it overall, because I just don’t have the anxiety that I used to have regarding getting a new job. I find myself joking around with my co-workers… even my superiors. Not being a smart-ass, but smiling and winking and laughing. I don’t sit there thinking, “Do they think I’m a moron? OMG I can’t believe I said that!” I just don’t care. Of course I would hope that they like me… but if they don’t? Is that really something I can fix? Or would want to?

And I’m sure a part of that is experience, too. The last time I actually got hired for a real job was back in college, when I had no experience in employment or life in general. I felt like an underling. I felt small. And now? Now I’ve graduated with a bachelor’s degree. I’ve worked with clients. I’ve held a job for over 2 years. I attained a title of Assistant Manager. I’ve spent time talking with the public. I’ve fixed computers and designed webpages and shaved cats and created a whole new filing system. I’ve accomplished things and I can no longer doubt that I am capable. So for me to get hired at an entry-level job doesn’t feel like such a big deal. I don’t feel like I’m entitled to anything more. I am not bored, either. I rather like the data entry and paperwork and following strict processes that have been in place long before I came – I don’t have the responsibility of creating something new and following behind fixing it. I can just do what I’m told to do, do it well, and go home feeling proud that I accomplished something today. Yes, I definitely enjoy that aspect of it.

I know this is not where I’m going to stay forever, I have aspirations of moving on and moving up. When that will happen I don’t know. But I am patient. I have no real plans… just ideas. I’ll see what comes my way.

Really, 26 isn’t so bad. I’m finally getting to a place inside my own head where I feel confident, and I’m still young enough that I have so much ahead of me. I really hope this is going to turn out to be a good year… to be the year that 25 was supposed to be for me. I am ready.

I am pretty much coming to the opinion that I really shouldn’t drink. Ever. At all. Between the feeling sick to my stomach (like, wanting to heave kind of sick) every time I drink even a couple (during the drinking!) to the headache and illness the day after, to the crappy weepy emotions it unlocks… well, the benefits are small, the downsides very large.

There was a party tonight – a retirement party of someone Den works with. It went pretty well, for the most part. But, of course, there was a newborn there. I carefully positioned myself to face in the opposite direction. I didn’t look. I walked clear of that area. But when the baby started crying during a speech I gripped the table. Den squeezed my knee to let me know that he was there and he knew.

There were also a couple of misplaced comments during the evening that were not meant to be hurtful in any way, but just reminded us of what we are missing. Comments about kids, about babies. Reminding us what we should have had.

At home, after lighting the candle and sitting in bed with my laptop, when I looked up to Den holding the candle and staring at it, as if saying goodnight to Devin, I choked. He crawled into bed beside me and I just lost it, sobbing. How could this have happened? How could we be holding a sheep and a candle, instead of our son?

I looked up to see a tear rolling down my husbands cheek. Somehow that hurts most of all. I know he must feel that way when he reads this blog, when he sees me crying… not just hurting inside, but hurting so terribly for your loved one’s pain, as well. It just kills me to know how much sorrow my husband must feel.

At work today I overheard someone talking with the pregnant co-worker. A boy, her first. That’s great, the other person said. Everyone wants a boy first. Then it doesn’t matter. Your husband must be so happy. Every husband wants a son to raise. That cut so deep. I turned to focus on something else, but I couldn’t shut it out. Denis and I lost the same thing, and yet we both experienced my pregnancy differently. We both had similar dreams and hopes for our son, but in many ways I will never understand what he has lost… will never understand his pain. It is so similar to mine, and yet different.

I am so glad he was and is standing beside me. He held me together. We could not stand alone. And yet I wish more than anything that I could spare him this. I wish I could make this right again, to heal his broken heart. But I know that I can’t.

I realized last week that I am not ready to be pregnant again. Mentally I’m ready. Emotionally I’m ready. Physically… not so much.

I have a vice, and it is not drinking or smoking or any of those such bad things. It is JUNK FOOD. And eating in general. I have been eating out a lot since I got my job (and the extra cash flow that comes with it). I have been giving in to my desires for Dunkin Donuts, McDonalds, whatever else I want. Chips, brownies, processed foods.

I have put on 4lbs… the 4lbs I worked so hard to take off. I feel gross. So one day last week I was looking down at my ever-widening thighs and thought to myself, Shit. I can’t get pregnant now.

I had several goals to attain before getting pregnant. One was going to Six Flags (haven’t yet – the weather is crappy crap), since I’ll be pregnant all next summer. And one was getting in shape so I could start off my pregnancy healthy. Not that 4lbs is a big deal, but to me it is. I want to be prepared.

So. After tonight I think I’m going to have to buckle back down and take those 4lbs off again before December. I can do that… that’s 3 months. No problem.

But food? It is so good. I love food. Sigh.

PS – We have the next RE consult on Monday early AM. Yippee, yipee. Not that I’m expecting much, but still. Hopefully we can set a plan in stone, or at least in wood or something less-than-liquid. This IVF keeps me going forward.

Tonight at a party I got into a long discussion with a family friend about politics and religion. He happens to be very conservative and Christian… I, of course, am extremely liberal and Athiest. But, despite what your first image may be of this discussion, it was actually very pleasant. He’s not the kind of person to talk over you or try to convince you by being loud and pushy – he listened to what I had to say and took the time to try to explain his position. It was really interesting to me. Even though I still disagree, I have always enjoyed the psychology of it all, the finding out others’ beliefs and motivations. Not just what they believe, but why they believe it. And I enjoy giving people things to think about – and being given something to think about. I do not go into these discussions to change someone’s mind… I go in to learn something about the belief system, and something about the person themselves. I find it fascinating. Frustrating, sometimes, but fascinating.

So I figured this would be a good time to finally do Glow in the Woods’ 6×6 for September.

1 | Do you feel as though a higher entity/supreme being/energy force has a presence in your life? What do you call it, and what makes you feel it exists?

Basically, no. In some ways I feel there is an “energy force” that surrounds us that is life itself, but I do not believe it is a being or entity or any time of sentient or organized thing. It’s just… life itself.

2 | Describe, in a word or two, the nature of your spiritual self before and then after the loss of your baby/babies.

This is a hard one because I don’t think my spiritual self has changed much. Before I knew things logically. After I had proof that it really was random and unexplainable and there isn’t a doubt in my mind.

3 | Do you pray, even if you wouldn’t call it praying? To whom? What for?

I talk to myself a lot, actually. Out loud, or in my head. I don’t believe there is anything listening. But I feel like I keep a running blog entry as I go about my life. In a lot of ways it’s habit. In another way it’s trying to remember things, I’m composing what to write down and keep. Sometimes I just have to say it out loud. Do I believe someone is listening? No. But for the same reason I blog: even if no one listened, I still need to write. I need to get it out of my head or it will explode. So sometimes I just speak it out loud, just to release it from inside me.

4 | Is there a particular line of scripture/teaching/sentiment that you find particularly helpful? Or is there one that’s commonly referred to but is unhelpful?

No, not really. There are some quotes that I like – like the one at the top of this blog. But it’s not that it really helps me work through things. It’s more that sometimes other people have said more eloquently what I feel. And I find pretty much any scripture unhelpful, since in order for it to have meaning you need to first believe in the god it refers to!

5 | Did your faith offer rites, rituals or teachings that acknowledged your baby and your healing? If not (or if you didn’t seek it out in an organized fashion), what rites, rituals or mantras have you adopted as your own?

Well, Athiesm is rather the lack of faith, so there are no prescribed rules or rituals or procedures. I did find that the concept of a memorial service was very helpful, even though it’s not something I would have expected for myself. It was non-religious in every way, but I simply needed people to show up and recognize our loss and our suffering. There is nothing else that we have adopted, really. Just little things that have meaning only to us, made up as we go along.

6 | Some people say that in a foxhole (a desperate, life-threatening situation), there are no atheists. You’ve been in a foxhole. Discuss.

Yes, I’ve been in a foxhole… and I still am an Athiest. I guess that whole idea is kind of shot to hell. But really, as I’ve talked about before here in my blog, I find my lack of faith comforts me. I do not need to reconcile my previous beliefs with this terrible thing that happened. I do not need to understand why a loving god would do this… I don’t need to come up with explanations. My belief is that there was no reason. Aweful things happen just by chance, and we just happened to be that person it happened to. Maybe that would make some people upset. I find my peace with it. We are not special. We were not singled out. We were not punished. It was a random pattern and we were on the wrong side of it. That is all.

I was going to show you the new purse I got, but then I got these put on my car:

I was a little nervous, at first, putting a decal on my back window like that. But then I realized that I talk about it with everyone anyways. And it is about awareness. Many people don’t even know what stillbirth is. If they see this my window and go home and look it up, well, next time they encounter someone who lost a child they’ll be one step closer to being understanding.

(Both purchased at October15th.com)

Nothing new, but I took a picture of me wearing my necklace, too. (I didn’t realize I had so many freckles on my chest.)

Last night at the party Den’s dad asked me, “So with this new job, it has insurance right? Does that mean you get another two tries?” I leaned forward and replied, “Actually, from what I’ve read, I get unlimited tries.” His face looked shocked and then so excited. “Really?? Oh my god. That’s terrific. Wow, just… oh I’m so glad!!” He also asked if we have any left over from last time to put back or if we have to go through all of it again – he nodded gravely when I said no, we have nothing left over. I was a little amused that he even knew that much about IVF. It seems the family members remember more though I thought.

Other family members were checking in with me to make sure that the insurance is still going through and asking if we have plans to do another cycle. They’re all so excited. You can tell from their voice, from their face. They cannot wait to hear good news for us and they all understand the struggles we have been through. They know it requires a lot for us to get pregnant.

Maybe some people wouldn’t welcome the questions, wouldn’t want everyone knowing when we will be going through it. But I appreciate it. I appreciate their support. I know they all care so much.

If, light forbid, we have another loss they will all be right beside us, crying with us. And when they day comes that we birth a live child they will all be gathered in the hospital room to greet that child, crying with joy, knowing how very much it required for him or her to arrive.

Today I bought a blanket. I saw it when I walked into the store, hanging with other throw blankets. It was cream and blue and brown, in a mod circle pattern. The first thing that hit me was that it was something I would have bought for Devin’s room – it would have matched perfectly. My step faltered with the thought, but I turned and headed straight towards it, instead of angling away. It was so soft when I touched it… so perfect for a baby. That sealed the deal. I bought it.

I took a nap with it today. And at night when I rolled into Den’s arms for our nighttime snuggle I pulled it with me, clutched tight under my arm.

I told Den that it was the kind of throw blanket I would use to put down for a baby to play on… for Devin to play on. I paused and grabbed Sheepie, and sat him on the blanket.

There’s still sitting there, Sheepie and the blanket, between my husband and me on the bed. I look over, touch the soft blanket, and smile. He would have liked that blanket.

I was nervous all night, dreaming up bad images of today’s appointment. What if the doctor told me I had some weird, rare chromosomal problem? Or if he didn’t think we could start IVF when I want to? I just don’t want anything to delay this, and I don’t want any more bad news.

I walked in feeling a little flustered, with my list of questions on my clipboard and that article about oocyte maturity and an extended period between trigger and retrieval. I was as prepared as I could be, given the circumstance.

At first I let the doctor tell me about the lab results: everything was normal. Every single damn test we’ve ever run has been normal (and trust me, there have been a lot of tests throughout the infertility and then after the loss). I have no choromosomal abnormality, I have no blood clotting issues. And all of the other myriad things they tested also came back normal. I just nodded – relieved, but it was also what I had expected. I guess once I got there I didn’t really expect anything to be wrong… I must have gotten all the fretting out at night. I really don’t think they’re going to find some sort of smoking gun for my egg maturity issue, not with the tests that they currently run.

When we started talking protocol and what to do next time, that was my cue to pull out the article. I handed it over and said it was something that looked very promising. The doctor looked a little caught off-guard. He said, “It’s not often that I have a patient giving me an article to read.” But he didn’t look offended at all, just surprized that I did that much research. He read the article summary and flipped through the data and said it looks very promising – certainly something to try. We talked briefly about the risk of early ovulation, but we both agree that the risk seems small at 38 hours. He said when they first started doing IVF they experiemented with different time frames… 34, 36, 38. They settled on 36 hours as being having the most success with the lowest risk for the average patient. He said that maybe they need to change it for people like me, who do not fall into that average patient category. (So if this works I could be setting a whole new precident for people with my issue!)

He looked over my protocol for the last two cycles and said that it looked like the first one was a bit too high on stims, but the second cycle – the one I got pregnant on – looked good. I had a good response, and it worked. So he wants to do that same protocol with those same levels again – but with the 38 hour interval between trigger and retreival, in the hopes that matures more of my eggs. He mentioned that another option would be doing an antagonist protocol instead of the lupron (agonist), but he seemed satisfied with my response last cycle.

I mentioned starting BCP in November and his comment was, “Do you need BCP?” He said usually the pill is used for women who don’t ovulate regularly… I do, so I don’t really need it. I shrugged at the time, but after thinking about it I think I want to do the BCP again for two reasons: one, because it’s what we did last time it worked (and I’m loathe to change too much in the fear of totally screwing it up), and two because my cycles have been longer… and delaying the december cycle by a week could very well mean a transfer on Christmas day. Umm, I’d rather avoid that. So I think I’ll request to do BCP again, and I don’t foresee an issue with that – he made it sound like it’s up to me.

In order to get insurance pre-approval for IVF I’ll need a sonohistogram after the loss (to make sure there’s nothing left in there that could impede IVF) and my Day 3 bloods. Since I’m on CD4 today I had the bloodwork done today so that’s out of the way. The sonohistogram will have to wait until next cycle, since I’ll be away next week when it would be done. So next month I’ll call with CD1 and schedule that. The nurse said that “most women say it’s not as bad as an HSG,” that there’s not the same pressure – but it’s the same catheter. I twitched at that. The pressure didn’t bother me… it was the goddamn catheter that killed me. Oh well, hoping for a better experience this time?

And once that’s done it’s a case of waiting for insurance to kick in (Nov 16, remember) and we’ll be doing stims and retrieval/transfer in December! 2 months left to wait!

Please spay and neuter your cats. Dogs too, but I see cats as being more of an issue; there are laws about dogs running loose. There are no laws for cats.

I work for a non-profit. We rescue cats. We take in surrenders and pick up strays; we take in pregnant cats, very angry cats, feral cats, old and sick cats. We take them in, we patch them up, and then we try to find them homes. And there is one undeniable truth: a lot more people want to give us cats than want to adopt one. We have cats who have been living at the sanctuary, cared for by us, for over 10 years. There are so many kittens out there, young cats – they can walk down to the MSPCA and be greeted with litters – so why would they want an 8 year old cat who needs a bit of medicine? And most of our cats don’t have overwhelming health issues, either. Some do, sure – and those ones we don’t even list as adoptable. But the ones who are simply old? Or who have been diagnosed with FIV? People pass them over time and time again.

Our organization is getting our name out there. We’re adopting out more cats than we were before. But you know what we’re getting a lot more of? Phonecalls. “I found a cat. It’s in bad shape.” “I have to move, the landlord won’t let me keep the cat.” “My son is allergic, I need to get rid of my cat.” Over and over and over. Multiple calls every single day.

And what gets me most is the sense of indignation these people have. I realize that they have busy lives and there are probably more important things going on than a cat. But they get pissed off when we tell them we can’t take any more. We’re full. Full. We’re privately-funded, upkept with volunteers. We can’t afford to take in any more. We can’t afford the food, the vet bills. And we certainly can’t afford to take in several new cats every single day.

Trust me, it’s not because we don’t care. We wouldn’t be doing this thankless job if we didn’t care. It’s not that we don’t want to help these people – we do. We want nothing more than to take in every unwanted cat. But we physically can’t. And these people say to us well, what am I supposed to do? And we say… we don’t know. There are other shelters in the area. They’re full too. The SPCA will take the cat… because they euthanize probably more than 90% of the cats they take in. That’s a lot of dead cats, people. I couldn’t do that job. But someone does. And they’re probably sick of it.

It astounds me how many people think they can give up 13 year old cat and someone else will “find it a good home.” They walk away with a clear concience. But the truth is, that cat probably died at the hands of a stranger. It probably was a very nice cat, a very friendly cat. There’s just too many nice, friendly cats.

I am frustrated… beyond frustrated. I am angry. I am sad. I see the war raging over abortion – little bundles of cells that could become something. Potential life. And yet here are real creatures – real, live beings with thoughts and feelings, who are scared, who hurt, who want nothing more than to be loved – left forgotten behind an abandoned building. You think they WANT live like that? Hungry and alone? Yelled at and chased by the business owners who don’t want them there? Hit by cars, killed by coyotes? That’s no kind of life for a domesticated animal. As independent and snotty as cats are – and yes, I love them, but they are snotty – they are domesticated. They depend on us. They are spoiled creatures who need us to take care of them.

I just wish people would think ahead. And I wish people didn’t see our organization – which is trying hard to help those cats who are truly in need – as a get-out-of-jail-free card when they no longer have the time to deal with unwanted behavior.

The economy is bad. People are in rough shape. I understand that. It’s just fucking depressing. There’s only so much we can do. At some point we have to admit that we can’t save them all by ourselves.