Finding a Balance

Hi. My name is Theresa. I have catastrophe brain. I am a catastrophe-brain-aholic. (I also consume a bit too much sugar, while we are confessing things)

On birthday morning my alarm went off at 7 so I could give myself my injection.Then I loaded up my ipod and took the dogs for a walk while I rocked to some recently downloaded Ace of Base. (On a side note – I had the cassette tape of their first album in 1996 and listened to it SO MUCH that I literally wore the tape out and had to get another one) After a couple trips around the block I dropped them back home and walked some more on my own. The sun was shining and I thought to myself that having to kick my activity down a notch to walking once I start stims might not be so bad. The slower pace allowed me to be more observant. I stopped to give a dog a belly rub. I stood and watched a butterfly land on a flower and just hung out for a minute before flying by me and away.

I was getting dressed thinking about how I might start my birthday blog post about how peaceful I felt when the phone rang.

It was the skydiving company.

As soon as I saw it I knew what was coming.

Canceled due to weather. My huge mess finally scheduled on the last slot ON MY BIRTHDAY skydive wasn’t happening. And not only that, they didn’t have any spots open next weekend. Meaning: no skydive before IVF.

Without thinking much about it, I confessed to the lady that I was scheduled for a procedure in September and couldn’t jump after August. (I felt slightly guilty about this admission later, not knowing what the outcome of this was going to be for sure). She took pity on me and the fact that I was choking back tears and squeezed us in for next weekend.

So I can still do my skydive.

But at the time it didn’t matter – all that inner peace and zen I had an hour ago? Gone. I was annoyed that the plans were ruined and annoyed that I hadn’t thought of a back up plan.

I finally decided to go shopping. Bryan and I keep some separate finances and so his gift to me was spending money – because in all the craziness of infertility among other things, I’ve been a nut about money (ok ok, I’m always a nut about money) recently. Even shopping I couldn’t quite relax. I’d pick up clothes I like and Bryan would encourage me to buy them and I just couldn’t because “this sweater is$40!”. (Though I did manage to chill a bit later and had decided to say screw it -went back for said sweater and didn’t like it once I tried it on later anyway. True to form I found 2 sweaters and a tank top at a different store for the same price as the one I was fretting over…old habits die hard)

Sigh.

We had thrown together some last minute dinner plans and found 8 people willing and able to join us. Unfortunately, the waiter totally sucked, kept forgetting things, and when he brought out birthday ice cream, put it in front of the wrong person. Then, at the hotel, the fireplace didn’t work. (Yes, I know its August. I was cold) And I left my Ipod there. (Its whereabouts are still currently unknown)

Annoyed, I declared once the night was over that this birthday “kinda sucked”.

Going backwards a bit – a blog friend of mine a couple of nights ago had sent me a tweet about a difficult yoga pose that was causing her some frustration. The elusive Crow – a difficult balance pose. I went to yoga once a week in college and that was one of my favorite poses. I can manage to get into it and hold it for a few seconds. I tried it Sunday morning and found that while it took a great deal of concentration, I have some decent muscle  memory.

I fell out of this the second he snapped the picture

I sent this picture and she asked me what muscles I used more…my abs or my arms. I thought about it and realized I wasn’t sure, so I tried it again. I said it was really a mixture of both in combination with the placement of your legs to find the right balance….some pun intended.

Fast forward. This morning I got out of bed for my  run – that I so happened to time perfectly with the sunrise. Stopping to watch the sun rise over the Charleston Battery I found myself not really caring any more about the sucky birthday.

Life, birthdays, yoga, infertility. It’s all about finding a balance. Of muscles, relationships, plans, of the good and the bad.

No, I didn’t get to skydive. Yes, the waiter at dinner sucked and yes the day as a whole didn’t go at all as planned, but it didn’t suck. I still got to spend the day with my husband who so sensitively gave me a perfect birthday present, had a good time hanging out with those who could come to my last minute birthday dinner and make fun of the waiter, and ended up with 60 some odd birthday messages on Facebook. Will this new found insight keep me from having catastrophe brain in the future? Probably not any time soon, but I’m quickly learning that very few things are true coincidences.

This is before I realized my Ipod had gone AWOL

And just because I found this to be absolutely hysterical today:

Everyone have a good day and shit

The “Not Quite 5k” 5k (and a lesson in strength)

Three months ago I said I was hanging up my racing shoes for awhile.

I cheated a little. (though in my defense I have cut down considerably mileage wise and have followed running restriction rules with the exception of last month)

As posted previously, summer running is not my favorite. The fact that this particular race falls in June is unfortunate. Hosted by Floyd Brace, the Sweatin’ For a Reason 5k benefits wounded warriors  and the company itself helps many of the kids in the clinic where I work by fitting orthodics and prosthetics. Even though I’m not a Physical Therapist, I still see the benefit for these kids and so it was a cause I really wanted to support. As an added bonus, the race is nearby.

registration tables

I ran this race last year as well during its first year. It was a small but nice race through a local neighborhood with some really beautiful Oak Trees.

that’s my shadow on the bottom right

I told myself I wasn’t going to “race” this one, but as I am inherently competitive by nature, I raced it anyway. However, I wasn’t honestly expecting much considering that I haven’t done much distance running and have had this asthma cough that I can’t seem to kick for the last 3 weeks. Regardless, it was nice to be in a race again – and how could you beat this?

this photo is completely unfiltered – meaning I actually took a decent picture all on my own

Right off the bat I could tell this wasn’t going to be my best race. In addition to my ridiculous lungs, I’ve also spent the last several months attempting to fix my running stance, and this was my first attempt at maintaining a decent speed for more than a mile or so. (For the record, I managed to stay on the balls of my feet for about 2.5 miles before I couldn’t concentrate on both breathing and stance). At mile 2 my watch read 15 minutes and some change though, so not bad. I hit a wall though near the end and nearly stopped to walk, but a song came on that helped push me through. (newly downloaded “Titanium” by David Guetta feat. Sia) Imagine my surprise when I was a mere hundred or so feet from the finish and my watch read 20 minutes. Imagine even more surprise when I crossed the finish line and the clock read 20:50- by far my fastest run EVER.

I lived my moment (literally) of glory until I asked a friend how he did, and he showed me his watch said the distance said only 2.8 miles.

Crap. It made sense though because in order to finish that quickly I would have had to pull off a 5 minute mile. My fastest known mile is 6:30. In other words, not possible. Figuring my pace and entering the correct distance, my time would have fallen somewhere between 22:45 and 23:05 – still not bad all things considering. Turns out when they were doing the course, they “left off a little loop somewhere”.

Clearly the person who measured the course was not a runner.

he beat me - butthead

During the awards, the category was announced for the Phoenix Athletes who participated in the race (who, I believe, were also wounded warriors). Not only was I beaten by a guy with a prosthetic foot, but there was another guy walking the entire course with a prosthetic who hasn’t walked more than a few feet in months. We drove by him still walking the course as we headed home.

The perseverance of those guys amazes me. These are people who have suffered a major loss and came back to not only start or keep running, but to kick all of our butts along the way. They didn’t let this loss knock them down. That isn’t to say they didn’t suffer, but ultimately they didn’t let their loss beat them. I wish I had thought to take a few pictures.

I  hadn’t expected a lesson in this race, but there it was. And I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been feeling more discouraged lately. There is loss in infertility. (and no, I am not trying to say its anything like being a wounded warrior) The loss of hope, the loss of a plan, the loss of the kind of life we imagined, possibly the loss of the family we all desire so much. In many cases, there are the losses of miracles.  If these guys can suffer a loss, (both literally and figuratively) and come back fighting, we can too. This isn’t to say we won’t suffer, but ultimately we can come out stronger, too. That last song that pushed me through the wall suddenly took on a whole new meaning.

I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose

Fire away, fire away

Ricochet, you take your aim

Fire away, fire away

You shoot me down, but I won’t fall

I am titanium

You shoot me down, but I wont fall

I am titanium

The Right One

A good friend of mine got married this weekend.

Without getting into too much detail about her personal life (because that’s her story to tell, not mine), as I said to her once “you’ve been through a lot of crap to get to this point”. But through all of the crap she found her happy ending, and in the time she has been with this man she’s been the happiest I’ve seen her.

As someone who sometimes lacks the ability to be truly happy for another person while wrapped up in this infertility misery (and I don’t mean that I am not happy for them, I’m talking about the “I think I’m more excited about this than you are” kind of happy), her celebration and my self imposed break from stressing came at the right time.

She tripped over many relationship rocks, but always managed to steady herself, and at the end she found the person she tripped over all of those rocks for. The one that made the wait worthwhile. I felt lucky to be able to be a part of this journey, and of course the wedding was fabulous.

Ready to be a maid of the bride

Rockin out the pockets

Oh there was a wedding? I came for the cake

Sharing some of the love

Bryan and I had a blast dancing like maniacs and our silliness carried over to the car ride home where we made up fake lyrics to real songs.  The backstory on this one was that we passed a couple of girls eating Frostie’s on the way home.

To the Tune of “Total Eclipse of the Heart”

Once upon a time I had a frosty in here

And now its just a straw in a cup

Dunno what I did

I must have just sucked it all up

I was warned to give credit where credit is due : Bryan made up the second line.

And in response to a “DUI Crackdown” sign on the freeway – to the tune of “The Final Countdown”

It’s a DUI Crackdown

Wee ooo Wee oooo

Wee ooo Weee ooo Weee

(like police sirens)

We are 29 and 35 with a combined age of 12.

Anyway, what prompted me to write this post was at one point during the reception, I overheard a family member say that my friend had said something to the effect of (I’m paraphrasing here) “I’ve been in love with him my whole life, I just had to wait for him”. While it was a rocky road to get there, he was worth the wait.

It dawned on me then that this is much like what the infertility journey is about. It’s a long, drawn out, rocky and painful wait. Like failed relationships you get your hopes up that this is the one and when it isn’t it’s a hard thing to recover from. Sometimes you feel like giving up. Sometimes you wonder if it’s meant to be at all. She watched friends marry just as I have watched friends have children wondering if your number will ever be pulled, if you will be the last one in your circle, trying to fit awkwardly into the conversations about relationships and children. It’s a lonely feeling.

But she waited, and she found him. He was the right one.

My biggest congratulations, my friend. You deserve it. And I couldn’t be happier for you.

I still hope to not have to the be the last, awkward one trying to voice my opinions about things I haven’t yet experienced regarding child rearing, but I know that one day it will be my turn. Many people say that the child chooses us.

It will be worth the wait.

It will be the right one.

Show me a Sign

I think we all look for signs.

That’s not what I meant (pinterest.com)

I think regardless of religious beliefs, when we are faced with a tough decision or a fork in the road, we look for signs on which direction to choose. Do I turn left, or right? Do I go back to school at 35 and change careers, or stay where I am? Do I buy a house or keep renting? Do I take job A or job B? At some point you prayed or otherwise asked the universe for a sign.

That’s not quite it either (pinterest.com)

A week has gone by since Bryan dropped his “my endo thinks this is going to work” bomb. This decision is proving more difficult to make than how to pay for the IVF, because at least the financial part could be figured out with a plan. Part of my brain screams why NOT try to see if you can save the money and get pregnant naturally? And part of my brain (the negative, though I like to refer to it as realistic) screams stick with the original plan because statistically your chances aren’t great and IVF gives you the best possible chance.

Sigh.

I’m not going to lie, I’m not typically a big pray-er (i.e. the act of praying, not to be confused with prayer), but my issues lately have been the opposite of concrete and logical (and impossible to solve with a spreadsheet) and more along the lines of flipping a coin or playing rock, paper, scissors. I’m having to do things like trust my instincts, have faith, and believe in things I can’t necessarily prove. (HA!) It’s messing with my usual order of things and it’s messing with my plans.

I mentioned this in my Valentines post briefly, so if you’ve read it already, sorry but you get to read it again (the option of skipping ahead is also feasible). Bryan cooked dinner for me and we had planned to eat outside on the patio and enjoy the nice weather. We don’t make a habit of praying at meals.  We talk about finding a church but continue to sleep in on Sunday mornings (well, he sleeps, I run). Our efforts have been lackluster. But for whatever reason Bryan starts praying before we eat. When he’s finished, I throw in my own “please help guide me in this decision” (he’s left it up to me). Bryan cheesily goes “send us a sign!”. I laugh at him, thinking I’m pretty sure that’s not the way it works. I get up to get salt and come back out. Not two seconds later, it starts to rain.

Ever since then I’ve been trying to figure out if that was some sort of sign. I’ve admittedly googled “rain and fertility” and “rain and signs from God” and have kind of fallen short. Some sites say rain is a sign of fertility. But I’m still not sure what that would mean in terms of our situation. Does that mean we are becoming fertile on our own? Or that IVF will increase fertility? Part of the problem with “signs” is that you can find ones for almost every situation and twist them to what you want them to mean. I’m trying to not do that. Heck, it simply could have meant “the earth is thirsty”, or “maybe you should drink more water”, or “you might want to go inside and eat instead”.

It could have meant nothing. Could be completely coincidental.

Truthfully, after the week has gone by I have the feeling more and more that I’m going to cave and agree to wait it out, with a time limit, and probably a relatively short one. A friend of mine asked me recently if I get a pang in my heart every time I see a pregnant woman.

I do.

That pang is what keeps me from making the commitment. Though logically I can explain to myself that it’s only for a couple more months and that it doesn’t mean IVF is off the table. Those extra couple months might actually put us in a better financial situation with hubby becoming self employed. And in fact, while doing the original research on the FSH, I found a study where it didn’t help sperm count, but DID result in a higher pregnancy rate for those pursuing IVF. Bryan’s next analysis on the FSH is scheduled for April 1 – about 6 weeks from now.

I have one more week to decide.

I still don’t know if that rain was a sign, but I think it was. I think it means something, I’m just not sure what. If I think about it, I remember connecting rain to fertility. And I found some evidence of the belief that rain is a sign of fertility. Maybe not on our own. Maybe the FSH will merely assist in the success of the IVF at a later date. I guess in a time of needing to trust my instincts, instead of researching and analyzing, I should go with my first feeling in response to the rain:

Rain is a sign of fertility. I feel like I’m being told to wait.

I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me sad. At first, it broke my heart a little. I was starting to see pregnant women and NOT feel the pang, knowing we would be en route soon. Since this latest issue, it’s returned.

The logic part of me is screaming at me right now. The part that knows the statistics and the studies. The part that thinks about the 65% chance vs who knows what chance. I’m testing my read of my own instincts here, because logic won’t work. I suppose that in the grand scheme of things, evidence for or against that doesn’t matter. Googling for hours isn’t going to answer my questions of what the rain means. Researching IVF success rates isn’t going to make it work.

What matters is what the rain means to me.

I still have a week left, but I think I know what I’m going to decide.

I will probably keep looking out for signs

P1nt3r35t.com 

Have You Seen My Brain to Mouth Filter?

Have you ever noticed that sometimes, the things that annoy you most about other people are things you do yourself?

I tend to say what’s on my mind. I’m honest. Do your jeans make you look fat? I’ll tell you. Did you say something stupid? I’ll tell you.

This particular quirk can be good. It can also cause trouble.

I like to say that I lack the filter that most people have that keeps their mouth from saying exactly what the brain thinks without first reviewing the consequences. A friend of mine says she can usually tell when I start a sentence with something like “I don’t mean to be rude, but…”

Case in point:

Recently, a coworker said a family member wanted to move. Since the economy is not in the best place, it was asked what she would do with her house should she move. Apparently she paid cash for her current home, so selling would not be as much of an issue for her as it might be for others.

I? Opened my mouth and said: “Must be nice” (thinking it must be nice to have cash to pay for a house!)

To which she replied: “Not really, it was from a life insurance policy from when her husband died”

                                                                      *facepalm*

(I totally need this necklace….Pinterest said it came from etsy.com but I couldn’t find it)

Yeah that was not one of my finer moments. In my defense, my brain didn’t put the connection together. I forgot about the death in the family and I wrongly assumed that meant they were just well off. Then I felt like a real @$$hole.

Interestingly, I often get annoyed by comments that are made to me regarding our trying to have children. My personal favorites are: “Why don’t you just adopt?” Why don’t you just do IVF?” and “Just relax and it’ll happen”. I’ve vented to fellow infertiles about the crassness of such comments and wondered (mostly in the beginning when I was nothing but bitter) why people don’t think before they talk. I feel stupid even writing this because sometimes I can be the worst offender.

A pregnant friend of mine recently told me that someone at a store said to her recently “you look like you could go any day!” to which she thought to herself “man some people really have diarrhea of the mouth”

Ugh.  I? have totally said something like that before. Because I don’t know what it’s like to be or feel pregnant and so the response to me is totally innocent. To me, a pregnant woman looking like she’s ready to give birth soon just means “hey a baby is coming soon”, and not “you look horribly big oh my gosh how do you stand up straight?” I honestly think that the bigger the belly is, the cuter it is. It never occurred to me that the comment might be slightly offensive.

*light bulb!* Perhaps that’s how others’ feel about my situation? I’m sure that in my non trying to conceive days, I’ve suggested options like the ones that so annoy me now. Because at the time, I had no idea what that really meant. At the time, I was just trying to be helpful. The only thing I knew about those options was that they were available. I had no way of knowing of the emotional connection, heartache and stress that surrounded them.

So sometimes when I get annoyed now, I feel hypocritical.

I generally feel as though people have good intentions. You can’t possibly filter everything for fear of offending someone or we’d all be silent monks, but there has to be some ground rule for knowing what to say when you have no idea what to say.

(I <3 you humor section of pinterest)

I haven’t figured it out yet. From experience, I can say that it can really kinda depend on the day. If I’m in a good mood, suggesting adoption or IVF isn’t a big deal. Other days its more upsetting.

Not much help, is it?

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve installed a brain to mouth filter that does work on occasion.(I’m still working the kinks out) When I don’t know what to say, my first route is to try to say something funny (see above rabbit picture). If that’s not appropriate or would just sound crass, I try to stick with something like “that really sucks” and offer to help if I can. Because you know what? It does suck. Or offer the person an ear, because sometimes that’s more helpful than you’d think. Plus then you can get an idea of what’s really going on before making comments. Note to self.

I still get annoyed sometimes when someone tells me to relax (seriously? the plumbing has to be working…relaxing is not going to make that happen). I still roll my eyes sometimes. I’m sure there will be vent posts that sound completely contradictory to all of this. I’m sure I’ll still mutter to myself “must be nice” when someone exclaims “we weren’t even trying!” I’m not perfect, but I understand a little better.

I’m still learning.