Be On Your Toes, Angels

Services have just wrapped up in Atlanta for my beautiful Aunt Jane, who passed away suddenly last week.  And while I hope that the heavens prove a peaceful and happy place for her, I also grapple with the selfish sadness and fear of finality that death brings.  And curious observation of what is left behind.  I suppose that's what a legacy is...the emotions that swim in the wake of a departing ship.

In general, I wasn't very close with my Aunt Jane.  I saw her much more often when I was a kid, and I thought she was so beautiful.  SO smart.  Really clever and, above all, so funny.  She amused Marlie and I - and was amused BY Marlie and I - constantly.  I remember her dry, quippy humor and sarcastic observation so well that I can summon the sound of her voice and the look on her face just like that <snap finger>.  Her short, feathered blonde hair and that crooked mouth that barely moved when she spoke...just like my Grandpa's.  I have such vivid memories of visiting her in my Grandparents' living room that they may well have happened yesterday.

People used to tell Marlie and I all the time that we looked like Aunt Jane, jokingly saying we could be triplets.  Though, in a heartwarming way, I can't say for sure now if it was "people" who said that, or just my Aunt Jane herself.  But my cousin Tony called the three of us Barbie Dolls, so at least one other person kept that joke going. :)

My Aunt Jane's legacy is a bit tricky, as my distance from her throughout my adult life leaves me drawing from a shallow well of direct and personal memories which, lucky for me, are happy and admirable.  But for my parents, and my Uncle, that well is much, much deeper.  I know that my Aunt Jane is not the perfect person my 8 year-old mind cemented into my memory.  How could anyone live up to an 8 year-old's vision?  So much of my experience with her life is indirect.  I know she could be as troubled and difficult as she was intelligent and witty.  As much a good conversationalist as a pain in the ass.  So on this day, I toe the line of holding my own personal memories dear, while appreciating the whole of the woman I barely knew, who was a daughter, a sister, a partner, and a friend to many.  The Barbie Doll, and the Human.

As my sister said the other day, alarm bells are going off in Heaven. Look out everyone, you've got an adventure on your hands.  Grab your wits and your smarts, cause Aunt Jane is going to find Grandpa and seek out some debate.  Better be on your toes, angels.

The Baby Battle

The "why" behind the absence of promised posts on this blog is my own web of issues that I won't bother you innocent readers with, but I've found myself in a desperate need to write and share, so here I return.

What brings me here?  The hard fought but highly unsuccessful Battle for Baby that has been raging on in my body, mind and life for 9 months now.  Not that magical nine months where you battle to harbor and birth a baby, but my shitty 9 month "supposed to be fun, but actually not fun at all" battle to CONCEIVE the baby.  You guys, this fucking sucks.  And for anyone out there who is going through the same thing, let's be hopeful lunatics together.  If infertility hasn't affected your life, take a quick moment to say "thank you" to God or the cosmos, but then bring your hopeful lunatic self here anyway cause I welcome all brands of crazy.

I don't hate women who are pregnant or have kids.  Well, sometimes I do.  Every month when the Period Witch comes to visit, I hate all women who have conceived.  But only for a few hours.  Then I'm much more likely to look at you like, "How on EARTH did you DO THAT?"  I know we all know that creating life is a miracle, but no really....with the sliver of a 24 hour window each month, it's amazing that ANYONE EVER GETS PREGNANT!  Good on you, humanity.  Life will find a way. (insert footnote for Jeff Goldblum, yes!)

I've got a long story that starts in January of 2015, but let's not get SO personal.  I'll just say that no babies showed up, and by January of 2016, I was starting fertility treatments at a WONDERFUL, AMAZING place called Reproductive Partners in Redondo Beach.  It was all hope and positivity.  Matt's numbers were solid, a miracle in and of itself considering he is a survivor of testicular cancer and resulting surgery and radiation.  My health was A+, thank you very much, and I had no reproductive issues.  I was even told that, at age 36, I was considered young for their office.  For the win!

But, it's September now, and still no babies have wanted to show up.  I'm nice, potential baby!  Dammit, I'm nice! (insert footnote for Ouizer from Steel Magnolias, yes!)  To date, I've had 7 unsuccessful interauterine inseminations.  3 with clomid, 3 with injections, and one IVF that was converted to insemination, when I failed to create enough follicles during the stimulation phase.  Or, for those of you versed in the lunatic "infertility speak," I've been TTC for 21 months, with 3 IUI/clomid, 3 IUI/Gonal-F, and one IVF/IUI w/Gonal-F & Menopur injections.

The period witch flew down on her evil broom this weekend so I find myself at the very beginning of Attempt #8.  IVF Attempt #2.  I feel hopeful, but the last 9 months have exhausted me in every way.  I have felt, at times, angry, sad, confused, tired, optimistic, cynical, lost, lonely, and HORMONAL.  I'm telling you right now, and this is solid advice: If you find yourself in the Zombie Apocalypse, and you need some ladies who are READY TO FIGHT, go grab some women from the Reproductive Partners waiting room who are on Clomid, Gonal-F, or Menopur medications, or especially weed out those taking progesterone injections with inhumanely large needles, and build your army.  YOU WILL NOT LOSE.  I dare a zombie to attack this crazy mob.

And I say "crazy" with a great deal of love, for myself and anyone else who is doing this.  The journey of infertility is full of traps.  I feel lonely and frustrated and sad, but the medications throw me into such a roller coaster of hormones and symptoms that I'm not myself, and can't grasp the things I usually grasp to deal with problems.  They are fleeting, and unstable.  So I feel crazy and moody.  And yes, I know the whole "You think you're hormonal now, wait until you get pregnant!" reaction.  Well, damn, when I'm pregnant at least the hormones are because I'm PREGNANT and not because I'm taking a bunch of medications TRYING to get pregnant, but then NOT and my it was all useless and, by the way, really expensive.  So thanks for the joke, but waiting to get pregnant is all I've been doing, so how about you make me laugh with a funny cat video or, better yet, baby goats in pajamas instead.  BOOM.

I appreciate the many faces that pregnancy and motherhood can take.  I have heart for women who can't get pregnant but want to, and heart for women who can get pregnant, but don't want to...and everything in between and around.  There are dozens of reasons and emotions for any situation and I am in awe of the mere idea of parenthood.  I feel very lucky that I don't have any major health problems that prevent a good chance at pregnancy, and lucky that Matt and I can afford 9+ months of treatment.  I have it harder than some, and far easier than others, and I respect my place in the mix.

And mostly, I'm lucky for an incredible core group of family and friends that give me amazing advice and endless support, and help me talk myself out of feeling like a failure, or like less of a woman, every month.  It's so hard to think that my body was made to accomplish one thing, evolutionarily, and I'm not doing it.  But I still have a lot of hope.  I have no reason to believe this next round of IVF won't work, except for the 7 reasons that have made my other attempts unsuccessful, but since I don't know what those reasons are, we'll just line 7 question marks against a wall and unleash a firing squad on them.  Goodbye shitty unknown reasons!  FIRE!