Looks like an early winter… for us.

It has been an early winter in a lot of ways.  The failure of my second IVF heralded the leaves turning gold and crimson in February already.  Losing my little doggy Amber saw them breaking loose and floating to the ground, leaving the grand old trees naked in the wind by April. 

And it really has been an early winter.  It got cold rather suddenly. Before we had a chance to shop for leggings and leather jackets, there was a distinct bite in the air.

I haven’t had a lot to say recently either.  After my own personal early winter, I was rather unsure of my next move.  I was reading at Mel’s post about a favourite book of hers.  She read all but the last page, fearing that after the last page was read, the book would be over for her forever. ”I loved this book so much that I always refused to read the last page because I thought that if I didn’t read it, the book didn’t end. I am terrible with endings.”

I suppose I feel the same about treatment at the moment.  The longer I leave it the longer it won’t be “the end” for me either.  The idea that I still may be a mom is more appealing to me than reality at the moment.  I am getting plans together rather slowly for blood tests and such, but drawing it out as long as I can.  I am delaying the inevitable, really.  I mean the outcome is the outcome, whether now or in six months.

I am just enjoying not thinking about it, is all.  I guess I didn’t want to bore you either with the non event that is my life at the moment.  I am not one of those people that fills the awkward silences.  I am ususally the person that creates them.

The good news is that we got a new puppy so that Jasmine wouldn’t be the only four-legged ”person” in the house.  Our new addition, Emma, is a chocolate mini dachshund, and she has already stolen our hearts.  She is cheeky and confident, unlike Amber who was timid and so gentle.  I am glad they are so different because it helps me to remember Amber for her own special qualities. 

I will post some pics soon, and keep you updated on the progression of my eternal blood tests.

I have been slow to comment - although I have been reading your posts. So I don’t expect a flood of comments.  If you read and move on, that’s okay with me.  As long as you’re still out there.

My Jar of Marbles

I am so overwhelmed by all the love and compassion in the comments to my last post, about my precious little “fur”baby Amber, who died suddenly and without cause on the 2nd April.  As with all of the sad and difficult times, it was you who got me through it.  When I felt completely gutted by life, you sent me a gentle hug or a prayer.  I am “surrounded” by some very special people, and I am eternally grateful that you share my story and my life, though we have never met.  Thank you for checking back here as often as you do, and for being a constant in my journey.

Life without Amber has been an adjustment.  They say that times heals all wounds, and that is true.  It gets a little easier day by day, although there is a scar, not visible, but as painful as all the others I bear.  We planted a tree of remembrance, so that Amber won’t be forgotten.  Although seemingly cruel, life goes on, and it must.  Life is crazy, it is painful and it is the most beautiful gift.  I have heard it described as a large jar of marbles, each marble representing a day.  Every day we take out a marble and throw it away, it cannot be regained.  And life is like that. Once the sun has set on a day, it is gone forever.  We need to really live each and every day and make the most of the “marbles” we have been given.  Look at the clouds as you drive, enjoy the music, smell the flowers, breathe with purpose. 

We are so lucky to have each other (fellow IF’ers), our spouses, our family, our pets, our neighbours (however annoying), our domestic workers, our colleagues, our friends, our acquaintances.  Everyday that we connect with someone we are blessed. 

We become so wrapped up in our problems that we miss the bigger picture.  I see poverty every day.  The lady who sits on the side of the road and cooks corn in a drum over a fire, with her toddler sitting by her side.  She is there when I drive by early in the morning, and still there when I drive home in the afternoon.  There are people all around me who will never own a car or a real house.  They have to walk across town to use the toilets, or walk 4 or 5 kilometres from the taxi rank to work, and yet we get upset when they are twenty minutes late.  These people greet me with smiles, they never complain.  I am so fortunate, and I am only starting to really appreciate my life for what it is, and what I do have as oppposed to what I don’t.

Amber has indeed left a very large empty space despite her size, but she has opened my eyes to the possibilities rather than the obstacles, and for that I am very grateful.  They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, and now I realise how full and happy my life has been despite all the accompanying disappointments.  Thank you Amber, my sweet little dog, for all the good times.  I won’t forget you.

Amber

fam·i·ly [fam-uh-lee, fam-lee] –noun

1.	parents and their children, considered as a group, whether dwelling together or not.

2.	the children of one person or one couple collectively: We want a large family.

3.	the spouse and children of one person: We’re taking the family on vacation next week.

4.	any group of persons closely related by blood, as parents, children, uncles, aunts, and cousins: to marry into a socially prominent family.

Family can also be construed as a group who have very close bonds and perhaps live under the same roof.  We might regard some of our blogging sistas as family.  Close friends, servants, even pets can be family.

This week I lost one of my family.

She came to us in the autumn of 2005.  She was no bigger than my hand, bony and shivering.  The runt of the litter, I have to admit that I had no idea what to do with such a tiny bundle of fur.

With lots of love and nurturing she grew stronger. Her little body filled out and her personality emerged.  She was in love with kitty, following her around everywhere and giving her lots of kisses.  She and Jasmine became firm friends despite their size difference.  She crept into our hearts and that is where she has remained.  She loved to be cuddled and was very affectionate.  She warmed the hearts of everyone who knew her, children and adults alike.

Being as small as she was, she could be exceptionally nervous. At least once each year she suffered a serious bout of gastro enteritus, which landed her up in hospital.  She always got better fairly quickly and life went on.

Which is why, when she got a rash on her tummy last Saturday, we didn’t worry too much.  Then her heart started to beat really hard and her face started to swell slightly.  Despite these symptoms she was her usual spritely self, chasing Jasmine around the garden and full of beans.  We took her for a check up just in case, and she was admitted for some basic treatment.  That was the last time we saw her well. 

In the days that followed, her body and face swelled to twice the size, she had to have a feeding tube, drip and a catheter to help her function.  We went and sat with her so she could sleep peacefully (knowing we were there was comforting to her) and massaged her swollen body to try and reduce the swelling.  When we said goodnight to her on Tuesday I was sure I would wake up to good news that she was on the mend and almost ready to come home.  The Hoff and I went to work as usual with a view to visiting her at lunchtime when they were finished with the blood tests.  (We figured that the more we visited her, the quicker she would heal) I got a call at about 9:30am to say that her blood pressure had dropped and she was getting cold.  We rushed back home.

Upon arriving, we were told to wait.  After about a ten minute wait, we were ushered into a room where we were told the bad news.  Our little Amber was gone.  After attempts to save her, her little body gave up and she closed her beautiful brown eyes for the last time.  Our baby had died without reasonable explanation.  When got to see her, she was lying peacefully with a blankie over her.  It looked like she was sleeping.  It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, leaving her there.  It just felt wrong.

Rest in peace little one - I look forward to seeing you again one day, to hold you and rub your tummy and kiss the top of your head.  You went too soon, we weren’t ready and our hearts are heavy and aching.  Our home is empty without you in it.

Amber 2005-2008

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow;
I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain;
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush;
I am in the graceful rush.

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.

I am the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

 

To Fet or not to FET, that is the question

It’s been hard to think about coming here.  I have so many thoughts and none at all.  Surrogacy, adoption, donor sperm…  FET, a third IVF, life after all of this….. with a baby…. without.  It’s mind-numbing.

I finally had to face my demons on Easter Friday whilst walking through the mall looking for someplace to have breakfast.  Coming towards us from the opposite side was… wait for it… my neighbour!  And her new baby!  I choked, my chest started to close and my mouth went dry.  I cracked a sheepish smile and squeaked a hello.  And you’ll never believe it: the baby wasn’t half as scary as I had made him in my mind.  He was cute and tiny and sleeping angelically in his pram (stroller).  It was almost nice.  The weird thing is that these people are blissfully unaware of all the emotional baggage that comes with struggling for years to conceive, so the conversation was light and whimsical.  Which was fine.  Really.

On the IF front, I have re-checked my thyroid and prolactin, for a laugh.  (Still waiting on the results)  I am still undecided about the FET, and I am taking my time deciding when we will do it.  I guess you could say that I am prolonging it so I won’t have to feel sad again so soon.  Not ready for that yet.  Also, once the FET is done and dusted, and is hasn’t worked (hypothetically) I am not ready for a future with no Lucrin, stims or daily scans.  I am not ready to just fly by the seat of my pants with no big expensive Plan D, E or F in the curtains.  So I am delaying the FET for as long as possible right now. Maybe May or June or even July - when I am good and ready. 

Please pray for Charne, who got one embie and is hoping for a 5 day transfer.  Also Annie, who has lost her baby at 7 weeks.  These girls are both South African as far as I can tell, so they are my homegirls, and they both need your prayers right now. 

Under the radar..

That’s where I have been flying lately.  I am still not sure how I am feeling about everything.  I still have not plucked up the courage to go and see my neighbour’s new baby.  I just can’t do it.  I am not good at hiding my feelings and I am afraid that if I pop over there all cooey and gooey, she will see right through me. 

As I was driving into our complex a few days ago, there were two moms sitting on the grass with their flocks of babies and toddlers around them.  When I drove through the gate one of the moms jumped up and rushed to her toddler, who was on a push bike, to usher him to the safety of the curb.  I felt a stab.  I should be sitting there too, making small talk and discussing how little sleep I get etc etc.  And yet I was in my car, driving down to my house where I would be greeted by my dogs.  I have become that woman with the dogs. 

Like I said in my previous post, I am okay.  I just have bouts of sadness.  They come and go - and then come again.  And then go again.  You get the idea.

I have halted adoption and surrogacy investigations for now.  I realised that I was gathering the troops for a war that may or may not occur.  For now I am going to focus on my impending FET (whenever that may be) and should that fail, I know I can start on plan B or C.  I have also realised that when the Hoff has had enough of IF, he switches off completely, whilst I go on a crazy baby acquiring mission.  He starts to withdraw from the process the more involved I become.  So once again I am thinking that just laying off for a while would be ideal for both of us. 

As soon as we have figured out how we will be financing the FET, we will start the proceedings.  It is fruitless for me to torment about my age and the fact that I may only have children well into my 30’s.  That just gives me a feeling of panic and impending doom.  You know how it is, you rush to fall pregnant by December, so that at least it is still in the same year.  When that doesn’t happen, you figure that at least if we conceive in January or February it’ll be a late 2008 baby.  When that doesn’t happen, you panic because the chances of having a live baby in the same year start to dwindle.  You panic because you can see another birthday looming with a barren womb, an empty home and an even emptier pocket. That’s right about where I stand at the moment, and yet I know that no amount of obsessing is going to change things. 

So we’ll take it a day at a time.  See where this crazy path leads us next. To those of you who have “stayed tuned” - thank you - it means the world.