And so it begins again-

CD1, finally.

I go in Thursday morning for my baseline, and I am seriously hoping that the evil cyst is gone and there aren't any new ones.

I'm not wanting to get my hopes up, it's been almost 4 years and my body just gets stupider and stupider every year. I can't count on anything anymore.



I'm down 20lbs, so I did make my mini-goal before this cycle started. Probably not going to help at all, but it makes me feel better. Like I've finally gained back some control from the beast known as PCOS. So that's something.

Hmph-

Nothing like a nightmare about a failed adoption to start the day... stupid brain. Because it's not bad enough I have nightmares* about infertility and miscarriages, let's add nightmares about failed adoptions to the list? Seriously though, note to self: before drifting off to sleep, don't dwell on how you're never going to be a parent. bah!

Last night I was crocheting the trim on some baby blankets, and my mind wandered to how much worse this Christmas season is going to be than it was last year. Because there will be another new baby, in that crowded house, and I just started crying. I don't want to live another year like this, I can't... I just can't. But I know, I know, we're more likely to be right where we're at than not. It would take a miracle for things to work out otherwise... and I don't put much stock in miracles these days.

My body is still messing around with me, I better see CD1 today or I am going to be livid. I am tired of the spotting, not spotting, spotting, not spotting, spotting, not spotting.... MAKE UP YOUR MIND YOU JERK. My lady bits hate me.

I have to take my dog Pokey to the veterinarian tomorrow. She has a lump on her throat, and she's been having trouble walking. She is old and very obese. But her issues are getting worse, she has a lot of trouble with the stairs now and getting up after she's been laying for awhile. Which is all the time, because that dog doesn't like doing anything. She just lays there, all day. The only time she gets up is to eat/drink/follow me, because she has to be in whatever room I'm in. If she can't get in said room because the door is shut, she'll lay outside it and wait for me. Sweet, yes. But when you have an unstable 100lb+ dog following you around the house, tripping over her own feet, and worrying that she's going to fall down the stairs again... not so cute. More nerve wrecking. I might have to move the baby gate to stop her from taking the stairs anymore. My poor girl. I love her so, it hurts watching her struggle like this.


* honestly, most of my nightmares are about zombies.

Stupid body-

So I'm still on my BCPs. And I'm still spotting. Yay me. It's went from brown to pink, and may be picking up. Boooo. Fine, I give up. I will go ahead and take my BCP tomorrow, but I'm stopping Sunday. I'm just trying to time AF so my CD3 isn't Monday, my doctor isn't in on Mondays... and I'd rather see her than one of their other REs. My new cycle should start promptly on Sunday then (but I'm not holding my breath on that, since my body is so uncooperative). If not... hopefully soon after at least.

So, any day now.

Please please please please let that nasty cyst be gone.



eta... I just realized that I've been blogging here for three years. Wow. Three years... I bet I've drove so many people absolutely nuts in that time ;)

I remember when I came here, needing support and a voice, hoping to help others like me by letting them know they weren't alone. It doesn't feel like I've been in this place for that long. I've changed the course of this blog, changed the course of my life, and soon I'll be doing that again. Shortly after I came here, I experienced my first pregnancy. And shortly after that, my first miscarriage. It was a very difficult time, and I couldn't even begin to imagine what followed.

Thanks to everyone who's been there for me. It really means a lot.

Really now?-

- Okay, so I took my birth control pill a few hours late today because I worked lastnightthismorning (graveyard shift is so confusing sometimes). And now, yeah, I'm spotting. What the hell?

I'm thinking this type of BCP just doesn't like me. I've used it before to get rid of cysts, and while it worked it also caused issues with spotting... if I'm remembering correctly. I think last time I ended up stopping it early too. I have a week left, but was thinking of stopping it a few days early... now, I don't know. I'm going to keep an eye on the spotting. If it picks up, I'm just going to ditch the pills and let my body do it's thing.

I swear, I feel like my body is just so stupid sometimes! I'm just frustrated.

- The new pregnant sister in-law (the one who hasn't even told us that she's pregnant yet) is still going post crazy with her pregnancy complaints online, without ever coming out and saying she's pregnant. It's really annoying me, so I hid her newsfeed on FB. I don't want to deal with that.

- But don't think me a totally bitter person (Maybe I am, but shhh!) I am working on baby blankets. After all, going to be an aunt again, and a great-aunt too... man, that feels weird to type... so, look. It's keeping my hands busy-


It's a simple basket-weave baby afghan, but it's nice and thick. It works. I took it to work with me because sometimes it gets quiet in there at night, and someone asked me if I was expecting.

I kept my reply simple, but still... No, never for me. Always an aunt and never a mother.

Passing the time-

Well, I have one week left of birth control pills. I'm considering stopping them a few days early, but I would feel guilty if I stopped early and the cyst was still there. But the rational part of my mind is saying that a few days isn't going to make a difference if it still is.

I'm really hoping that sucker is gone. I've never had that happen on a natural "cycle." My body doesn't usually do anything on a natural cycle, not ovulate, and certainly not get a cyst. I mean, I get little classic PCOS cysts... but nothing this major.

I do worry. I mean it should be gone, it shouldn't be an issue. But what if it's still there? I really don't want to think about it. Another month of BCP, possibly another laproscopy? Ack. It should be gone though.

I hesitate to look for my sharps container. I didn't dig it out before last appointment, which was just as well since I couldn't use it. I have trouble believing I'll need it this time. My body is so stupid.

I want to do this cycle, but part of me just feels like the universe is screaming STOP at me. I mean, a cyst? Really?! I reached a place awhile back where I pretty much assume now that it's just not going to happen this way. My eggs, and his sperm, are just not the right combination. I mean, even on the rare occasions they connect... it still leads to failure. I suppose it's just as well that this is our last cycle for a very long time.

I can't help but hope, although I hate it. I don't want to hope. I don't want to think about it. I want to let it go, all of it. I just can't. Part of me hopes this final cycle will be lucky, that I'll get pregnant and this time we'll have a living child. That part of me is so stupid. We're at war. See, that hope is just wishful thinking. Most of me is based here in the cold reality of my life: almost 4 years, 3 miscarriages, no living children. The odds aren't in my favor, and don't I know it. I've hoped so much in all these years, and I've gotten so little in return. Why should now be any different?

I feel defeated. We've fought a long hard battle, we even won small squirmishes here and there... but we've lost the war.

In a couple of weeks, it will officially be 4 years. Not 3 years and 11 months like it is now. It will be 4 years. 4 years of love, 4 years of hope, 4 years of pain, 4 years of hell. It'd be fitting if we're able to go through this coming cycle, if we don't get sidelined again. Our last cycle, possible forever, on our 4 year anniversary. If. Who knows if we'll even be able to.

And of course, now I worry about what's going to happen to me when we do stop. I stopped for like three months and I get a giant cyst... I never had to worry about monitoring my PCOS before infertility. I didn't even know I had it. Now I'll have to make the decision to risk more cysts and stay off BCPs... or to go on them and hopefully prevent them... and also give up all hope of pregnancy. Really, the choice is simple. I go on BCPs. I don't have to live with hope, I don't have to live in fear. That's what I want, right? But to close that chapter... to live knowing that there's no chance at all while we save money and research options? It's what's best, I know, but it's hard to think about. I just spent 4 years trying... to knowingly prevent, willingly prevent... it goes against everything I've wanted all this time.

I have so much to think about, so much to process. And we're just waiting to do this damn cycle, this final hurrah. I don't count on it working, but how I would love it to. I just don't feel like it's in the cards.

One more week.

Until then, I'm just passing the time. I'm probably not doing it in the best manner either... I'm crocheting baby blankets for pregnant family members. It keeps my hands busy, which is good. But it certainly doesn't take my mind off things, does it?

So much-

For almost a month now, I've suspected that SIL2 was pregnant. She's younger than SIL1 (SIL1 had a baby last September). No one in the family has said anything to us, but due to the miracles of FB I confirmed it the other day. She didn't post on her wall, but MIL and SIL1 had commented on SIL2's Fiances wall, so the comments showed up on their walls (is that confusing enough?).

Anyway, yup, she's pregnant with number two. And due to the miracle of FB, I know they heard the heartbeat the other day, and she's due October 8th, and SIL1 has the family bassinet if they want it and plenty of hand me downs. So, all the family (and FB) has known since the beginning of February actually. And they still haven't told us.


This is my complete lack of shock.


My own sister, she's going to be a grandma in a matter of months now. That's right, I'm going to be a great aunt. I still can't wrap my head around that.


Speaking of which, my sister called me today. She bought a book about infertility, but when she got it she realized it was geared more towards her religion than mine. So she kept it, and put it in her bathroom (where her boys couldn't get it) and she read it. She said it made her cry. We talked some about it, and what I was going through, and she seemed to understand it all a little better. Before, she really didn't get it at all. She'd listen, but she didn't understand how I could just "give up"... but today, it seemed like we made a better connection.

When I got off the phone with her, I felt like crying. Sometimes people talk with me, but none have ever actually made the effort to understand. But she did. We've had so many differences over the years, so many falling outs, and for once she actually tried to look at things from my perspective. No one else had went that far. I post things on my FB hoping some of them would read it, but that was certainly no guarantee. When we've tried to talk to some of them they always just brushed it off with "Well, someday something will work and you'll be great parents." Which I always felt was a cop out, a way of ending the subject. And they never brought it up again, and never seemed interested in hearing about it. So I was left alone with dumb silence. But for once, just this once, someone heard me.

It just made my day after such a rough month.

She also let me talk about my miscarriage, something not many people do. We talked about our dead babies, her still born daughter and my miscarriages, and how hard it is. She talked about waiting 24 hours to deliver, knowing her baby was dead. And I talked about my week to two weeks where I waited. We shared sadnesses and battle scars. We talked about differences between our situations, and how we couldn't imagine how hard it must be for the other one.

Dead babies... who ever thought it would be a sibling bonding issue.

It sounds really weird, or morbid, to say that it was a good conversation given the subject matter, but it truly was. It was a nice change from the absent conversations I often have, the turned gazes, the changes in subject. Sometimes you need to talk about the raw emotions with another person who is really, and I mean really, willing to listen. And I think it was good for us as sisters, because we don't talk often and things have been difficult since our last falling out.

It was really good, and meant more to me than I'm able to express. I didn't expect it, and I've been in such a funk because of the apathy I meet everyday relating to our struggle. I've been faced a lot lately with so many people who just don't seem to care at all, who think everything is fine... it was nice to know that not everyone is looking the other way while we suffer, and someone remembers what we've been through.

Missing-

Two years ago was the worst night of my life. I've been mourning off and on all week, since last month... since it happened really.

Two years ago I finally miscarried our second pregnancy after a very long drawn out process. I started bleeding on February 17, and the ultrasound showed a gestational sac like it should. My beta was right where it needed to be, and it rose. But after a week on bed rest, there was barely any growth. A week later, no growth. My doctor confirmed my miscarriage. And almost two weeks later, my body still wasn't letting it go. I took medication to induce, which led to the absolute worst night of my entire life. That night still haunts me.

Today, I am just chilling at home away from the world. We did venture out earlier, we tried to catch a movie... missed it... planned on catching another one, and missed that too. So we gave up and went home. It wasn't a total waste though, we did hit the book store and I got some books that made me happy; a cook book, a large book of Alice in Wonderland illustrations (to be framed and placed in my art room... and maybe someday in a nursery, should we ever be so fortunate), and a crochet book called Creepy Cute Crochet. I have a feeling I will fail miserably when I try to make any of the little cuties, but I'm going to try anyway. It was good to get out, but just as good to be home now.

I've been bawling off and on all week, and today I've found a strange calm. Grief is weird like that. It hits you hard and you get knocked to your knees sometimes... and you cry until you have nothing left to give. But then you pick yourself up again, shaken and hallow, but you get back up just the same and go on. Maybe it's just me. I don't count on this mood lasting, and I don't count on it not, but right now I am sad but okay. Well, as okay as anyone can be given the circumstances.

I should feel good today, by all rights. I got some nice books, I'm down 18lbs, I put on a pair of shorts that were really snug last summer and they're loose today, and it's truly a beautiful day out, the sun is shining, the sky is clear, it's almost springlike... if it were any day but today, maybe I would feel good about today. I'm not feeling horrible, but over all this there is a heavy memory that still haunts me. This sadness that I can not dislodge from my soul.