Tag Archives: ttc sisters

Never Say Never

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Last Wednesday was our ninth wedding anniversary. If someone years ago would’ve ever told me that we would be one of those couples that didn’t celebrate our anniversary on that actual day, I would’ve said “Never”. If someone years ago said we’d only have one child of our own on our ninth wedding anniversary, I would’ve said “Never ever”. Nine years later and one child down, my greatest advice is “Never say never.”

Because, well, life. Nothing has made me more aware of this than my journey to and through  motherhood. We celebrated the following evening instead because it was parent’s night at my son’s school.  Rather than have someone else put him down to sleep two nights in a row (which basically means letting him stay up way past his bedtime), we decided to combine the two. That’s life.

As visions of what I had anticipated life to look like with at least two kids float through my head, I know how fortunate we are to have our one.  He has made our life and understanding of it’s meaning exponentially better. While we are on a quest for baby #2, the reality is we are parents of one child at this point in time. One fucking awesome kid and infertility…which makes it uncertain if we’ll ever have another. That’s life.

To be perfectly honest, the night of our anniversary was what some seemingly would deem a disaster. On an early evening walk, my son randomly threw up his undigested lunch. As I scrubbed him down, in true mom fashion, I started running down the list of what could’ve caused it. No fever. No other symptoms of coming down with anything. Eating, sleeping, behavior all normal. Then it dawned on me, he had hit his head with a wooden mallet earlier in the day at my husband’s jewelry store. There was no lump, bruising or tears, but could it have been a mild concussion? Pretty certain that it wasn’t and that I had even thought to myself not-so-long ago that my kid would never have a concussion (at least not before age 3), I called the pediatrician. I figured better safe than sorry and wanted to run it by them and see what other signs I should look for.

Meanwhile, my husband had gotten stuck late at work. He gave me the ‘I’m leaving in 15-minutes’ text which was the green light to put the steak on. An hour and a half later, he walked into a cold plate of a once deliciously steaming meal and me half asleep in our son’s bed. Oh and a homemade card and unwrapped anniversary gift because we only had girl and baby wrapping. That’s life.

Now as a mother, my greatest parental advice for my expectant friends or friends who don’t have kids is never say never.  Literally the moment I think, or worse off, utter the word “never”, it happens.  My son has never had an ear infection.  Bam! Two back-to-back in a two months span.  We were never going to be that couple with a kid ending up in our bed more nights than not.  Becoming a parent?!  Medicated birth, formula feeding, driving around at 2 am with a screaming newborn, only giving organic baby food made from scratch, taking an antibiotic-if your answer to all of these now is “never”, do yourself a favor and heed my advice immediately.

Coincidentally as I was writing this post, I was eavesdropping as two older aged women, both evidently grandparents, conversed.  One went on and on critiquing feeding habits and bedtimes.  They went on to question if reflux was even a thing because back when they had kids that didn’t exsist.  Before changing their long winded topic, one of the two said one thing  that never happened in our house was kids in our bed-it was a non-negotiable. The more I listened the more I thought to myself, I just don’t get the “nevers”.  In the end, do they really matter if our children are happy and healthy?  Society is so quick to say never do this and never do that which causes us to have these rigid notions of what is assumingly the right thing to do.

For as long as I can remember the “nevers” were engrained in my head.  I’d never do this and never do that.  Would infertility ever affect me directly?  Never.  I would never have an only child.  And I could never truly wrap my head around why a single person would want a child.  As I noticed parents with apparently adopted children or learned of what gestational surrogacy was, I respected and admired it, but it’d never be for me.

Many years later, experience gained, and infertility ridden, I now understand why you can never say never.  One might end up adopting, or only having one child, and even being childless by a matter of circumstance and not choice.  I would’ve never had dreamt in my wildest dreams that I at some point might be faced with these options, or lackthereof.  I’ve learned to never say never because that’s life.

And what a beautiful life it is. The more often I remove the “never’s” from my words and thoughts, the more I realize that this is what life is made of. Both of us were un-phased by that day’s events and would emphatically say it was a nice anniversary because what we’ve learned over the years is its not always the most grandiose parts that make for the best parts of life. While the “things” are nice, they’re nothing in comparison to the “moments”. Nine years ago and childless I didn’t quite know that.

To Teachers in the Waiting

I’ve been MIA guys because…well summer. Busy days trying to cram everything in before it’s over and late nights causing us all to crash hard…making it a feat to squeeze in a blog post. But for me, summer is always a harder time for dealing with infertility.

As some of you may or may not know, I am a speech-language pathologist (SLP). Before having my son, I worked as a school-based SLP which meant I was fortunate enough to have summers off. And while summer months can be a perfect time to re-charge I also found they afforded me a lot more free time to focus on my infertility. There were more free minutes to google. More opportunities to research and read. No alarm wake-ups meant I could peruse Pinterest all night for nursery ideas and baby stuff. It also meant that my mind had more space to go to those deeper darker places, especially as August rolled around.

Here we are, the first few days of August. Back-to-school Staples commercials and billboards of tax free back-to-school shopping already have our stomachs nervously filled with butterflies thinking of the imminent end to summer days. And for anyone who works in a school and is struggling to get pregnant, it also means the dreaded going back to see who has since become pregnant from last school year.

It may sound selfish or ill-natured, but I can assure it’s neither. Rather it’s a culmination of all this built up anticipation of getting pregnant over the summer when we could “just relax” or have extra time for monitoring and bloodwork. Most women who work in schools have been trying for awhile now. Originally the plan was to get pregnant with a spring baby as to not have to go back until summer when he or she was at least six months. Then it got revised to a summer baby and then to any time of the friggin year because I just want a baby NOW. And then here comes August and it hits us smack in the face when the whispering of pregnancy news echoes through the halls and the emergence of glowing faces and rounding bumps burns the sting a little more.

Even now, having overcome infertility and having not gone back to work/school, it’s as if my internal clock knows. Looking back Summer 2013 was the toughest point in my journey. I feel as if somehow my body, my brain, and my heart can’t forget that and all remind me around this time of year. Currently in a very different chapter of my life than then and in the very early stages of our journey to baby #2, some of those same emotions are surfacing. While these “bad infertility days” as I call them are very few in number and mild in nature they still remind me of where I was four years ago. It feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago all in one. It’s almost as if it’s subconscious; as if I’m not really sure if my eyes are welling up because of that, but what else could it be?

For that reason, I can’t help but think of my teacher friends still in waiting.  There’s a disappointment in going back with having nothing changed and yet an eagerness to get started as it feels as if you’re moving ahead at least.  And yet, all you feel is stuck.  It’s as if the rest of the world is moving forward and you’re trapped in the same space in time.  You’re no closer to having a baby than you were when you left for summer break.  Baby limbo is a hard place to be as seasons change and transitions occur.

In this season of change, I, myself am experiencing a huge transition as my son goes off to preschool.  While it will be an adjustment to say the least for us, I know it’s time and we are both ready for this next venture.  I’m grateful for our days spent over the course of the past almost three years. We’ve grown together.  We’ve learned together.  And I can’t help but get teary-eyed thinking about what have been thus far, the greatest days of my life.

With this, August is once again filled with the anxiousness and eagerness I’ve always known it to bring.  As difficult as it may be to start another school year, remember that like my son and your students, you’re resilient.  Not even infertility can keep you down.

Four Simple Words

Earlier in the week, I ran into someone I know. We don’t know each other all that well, but well enough to stop, kiss hello and chit-chat. We know about one another’s kids through Facebook and definitely have circles of friends in common. When we went to embrace one another, we started with the normal ‘haven’t seen you in awhile’ and ‘you’re kids have gotten so big’ banter, and then she said “I pray for you.”

Four simple words with such a profound meaning. She went on to say she follows my posts and reads the blog {so if you’re reading this right now, know how much those four simple words touched my heart}. We went on to other topics, but I couldn’t wait to run over and tell my husband what she had said. I couldn’t wait to share that incredible gesture. He responded of course with gratitude, but he was not nearly as affected as I was. It had almost stopped me in my tracks. Maybe because every night with our son we pray for others who are struggling, some we know initimately & others we barely know. But it never crossed my mind that others out there were doing the same for us. Sure I’ve been told that before, but never by someone outside of my close circle and never so raw and genuinely.

Her words spoke to my heart and it came to me. Quite often, I get messages or am asked personally how someone should respond to their friend or loved one struggling with infertility. I’ve read some other bloggers’ pieces addressing the topic and could go on and on for days about things not to say. I have always wanted to come up with some advice of my own to blog about, but wasn’t quite sure I had the answer myself. Or at least I didn’t until the other day. You see, four seemingly simple words can have such an incredible impact- “I pray for you.” “You’re in my thoughts.” “I’m here for you.”

At Wednesday’s infertility meeting, I brought up what had been said to me and how it warmed my heart. I opened it up to the group to give their input about what they found to be most touching. Essentially, it was not advice that was wanted, but rather some validation or words of encouragement. Through our own experiences, here are some additional things someone struggling with infertility would like to hear.

• I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.
• That must be so devastating/painful/unbearable.
• You are so brave/strong/inspiring.
• Don’t give up/quit/lose hope.
• You will be an amazing/incredible/fabulous mom.
• You deserve for this to work.
• I am sorry you have to go through this.

There’s nothing magic about these phrases. They seem pretty standard, right? But how often do we offer advice (“Just relax…”, “My mother’s sister’s dog’s friend did IVF, “Have you tried XYZ?”) instead of just validating the way the person is feeling. You’re angry because your cycle failed? You should be-I’d be pissed. You’re drained from all of this? I don’t know how you do it. I wouldn’t even be able to function. You cried when you heard so-and-so who never wanted kids is pregnant? If I were you, I would’ve cried too and drank myself into oblivion. You declined an invitation to a baby shower around the time it would’ve been your shower if you hadn’t miscarried? Good for you. That’s not selfish-that’s called taking care of yourself.

The greatest way you can support someone struggling with infertility is to do just that. Support them, encourage them, reassure them that their feelings and actions are warranted. Check-in with them. If they told you they have an appointment in July, they want/need/crave your text to say thinking of you/hope the appointment went well/how’d you make out?

It may appear at times like we don’t want to talk about it.  And on some days that will be true and we will gently let you know.  However the majority of the time, it feels good to talk about it.  You may ask, “How are you?” and get a simple “Good.”  But if you suspect that behind that smile we are in pain, press on.  “How’s everything going with trying to get pregnant?”  Chances are a bottle and a half later of wine {unless we are in the midst of a cycle} we will still be going on about what we’re dealing with.

There’s an understandable uncomfortableness when it comes to talking about infertility.  It’s a sensitive, and often seemingly private topic.  Avoiding it altogether, though, does nothing for us, the ones struggling, and you, the ones wanting to offer support.  If not acknowledging  it in conversation, a simple text, holding of the hand, or hug can help too.

Studies indicate that the levels of depression and anxiety in infertile women are the same as cancer patients. Am I here to compare the two? Am I saying they’re the same? Absolutely not. All I am saying is that there is a significant emotional component that infertility entails, much like any disease.  But your words can have such a phenomenal and lasting impact.

When I reflect back on my journey, I’ll never forget those in my life who’d remember an appointment or send an encouraging quote my way.  Even now, I appreciate when someone checks in to see how things are going and where we are at.  So thank you for being there then, thanks to those of you following along now, and thank you for those four simple words.

Unblocked

I’ve admittently had writer’s block recently. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to blog; it is just that I’m not quite sure what you need to hear. Being “out of the game” so to speak makes it a little more challenging to journal. So I reached out and am so appreciative of the response I’ve gotten. I even started to draft on a few of the topics suggested to me, but then it happened…I was unblocked.

Let me start off by saying, for those of you already blessed, two is magic. At least for us, it has been. Since he’s turned two, Mikie has slown down a bit. Everything I used to cram into two hours of nap time I can sometimes tackle while he’s “reading” or playing independently in his toy room. Two also means there’s a lot more activities we can participate in on weekends. Discover the Dinosaurs came to the Convention Center in Hartford, CT last weekend and just happened to be the best experience yet. There was so much for him to do and explore and he was old (tall) enough to enjoy all there was to offer.

I couldn’t have been more impressed with the event…or more unblocked. I was surrounded by pregnant people. Literally every female there was pregnant in some capacity, new little bump to full-fledged this baby might fall out if I have to run after my kid in that Dino-jumpy. No matter where I turned there was another pregnant mom. So much so, that my pregnant sister-in-law who went with us turned to me and said “Literally everyone here is pregnant.”

Literally everyone except me. It’s not that I’m even completely at that point of bump envy. I swear, I’d be the first to admit if I was. I am currently awaiting the arrival of my niece and nephew just months apart and know that will be the “fix” I need. Yet, that’s all I needed to spiral back into the midst of infertility. Just being surrounded by pregnant ladies was enough to make my head start spinning. My mind started racing and analyzing…her first looks so much younger than Mikie…oh my God she’s on her third in the same time I’ve had one…should I already be pregnant?…have I let too much time gone by? The plan in my head started to get the best of me. Where I thought I’d be and where I am are different. And I am wholeheartedly okay with that until I’m physically reminded. Moments like that can bring me back to infertility in an instant. So much of infertility is letting the plan in our head affect our present. For minutes, I let that happen.

Then, I had to reel it back in. Infertility has robbed me of so much. I wasn’t about to let it rob me of living in the moment and enjoying this experience through my son’s eyes. I had to consciously take in what was around me and react differently. Don’t get me wrong-it took looking for other parents of only children and seeing expectant moms of 4+ year olds to remind me it’s all going to work out. But I was able to do it. I was able to rid myself of the anxiety that surrounded me and enjoy the day with my miracle child.

In that moment, I was reminded why infertility never escapes us even when we’ve overcome it. I recognized why secondary infertility must come with so many layers and how sometimes the plan in our head is our own worst enemy. I also realized how strong I am and how far I’ve come. Granted I have my son, but a year ago I started feeling the angst of infertility. My brain started trying to dictate to my life once again, to no avail. This might sound crazy, but instead of going church week after week (or most weeks-church going with a two-year old aint easy) and praying for another miracle baby, I started to dialogue with God differently. Rather than ask for another child, I started to ask that my heart be full with the one I’ve been blessed with. It is not that there aren’t daily reminders of this; it’s moreso that my heart had been unsettled. I’d say that at least the last 8 months or so I have felt that fulfillment-that my heart is at peace . While I would love nothing more than to grow our family, I am grateful for our son and so excited for the anticipated gift of our niece and nephew-which will be the closest thing to me having a newborn if I never get to experience it firsthand again. I’d be lying to you, or more importantly myself, if I said I didn’t still drift into nursery design and christening planning daydreaming. Something in my inner-core tells me it will happen again for us. I am faithful and am positive. Yet, just like last Sunday at the Dinosaur Experience there are times when I am tested. There are times when I feel weak and vulnerable and let infertility get the best of me.

In the end it’s about finding the balance. There are times when I’m blocked because I am so busy enjoying the infertility baby I’ve been given. Then there are moments, in which, I am reminded all too well that we are one in eight and I’m suddenly unblocked.

Hello From the Other Side

Whoa I know! Who’s this girl posting twice in one week?! It’s just your standard new year overachieving which I’m sure will subside by mid-February 😝. Let’s be real-by way sooner than that!  Truthfully, though, I’ve had a bit of a writer’s block the last few months. It’s been three years since we underwent IVF and thus even longer since we started our infertility journey. Sometimes being out of the fertility intervention game means that I’m not sure exactly what you need to hear at this moment that will resonate you. So any topic suggestions would be greatly appreciated please!

Pondering this got me to thinking that it might be interesting to read what your future holds, once you’ve beaten infertility, or are on the other side of it so to speak. Of course, just like every journey to parenthood is different, so too is the aftermath. I can only speak to what life after the birth of our IVF miracle has been to us. Much like the struggle itself, I’m sure the post-infertility-battle is pretty similar in terms of emotions and outlooks.
Here are 1️⃣0️⃣ things to know about being on the other side of infertility.

1️⃣ People will still ask you when you’re having another, even if they know about your struggle TTC #1.

Its not something that I mind at all personally.  I just find it kind of funny that immediately after you have #1 {which took a bigilllion days/months/years} people are already wondering when you’re gonna pop out #2 and they almost always remind you not to let too much time go in between kids.  If only that were in our control right?!

When people unknowing of our situation ask if and when we’re having more , I usually just say “Hopefully if we can, but we have significant infertility issues.”  I love when that turns into hearing their own personal infertility experience, which you’d be surprised how often it does!

Other times, I am sure you can guess what they say!  “You never know.  Sometimes people have to do IVF with their first and then they get pregnant on their own.”  🙄 Insert my thought 💭:  Yes, that can happen, but not for us and our issue.  Moral of the story is people still say stupid shit when you’re on the other side and even when they know about your infertility.

2️⃣ You will refer to your RE as the closest thing to God.

Because he or she is, right?!  They got you pregnant, despite X, Y, and Z (fill in the blanks: PCOS, DOR, Endometriosis, MFI, Unexplained Infertility).  Ironically our doctor is Dr. Gad Lavy of New England Fertility Institute (http://www.nefertility.com) so my husband always jokingly says, “In Gad, we trust.”  Can I get an amen 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼?

3️⃣ You will want to help anybody that says they’re dealing with infertility.

Even if you overhear a complete stranger in front of you at Starbucks, you will feel inclined to tell them that you’re an infertility success story.  You can’t help yourself because you remember all too well how stories with happy endings helped you keep the hope alive.  You want to do that for someone else.  And, those times, when you feel embarrassed, or don’t have the courage to speak up, or you were in a rush because you didn’t want your baby to fall asleep in the car before making it home, you’ll stew over it all day long.

Not only will you want to help them, but you’ll want to “fix” them too.  You’ll spew off your doctors names and numbers, ask if they’ve underwent an HSG yet, and basically put your RE hat on because by now you’re an expert.  Then you’ll give your email and contact info if they ever need anything because there’s an unspoken bond between infertiles, even if you’re perfect strangers.  No matter if you’re in the midst of it or you’ve overcome it, we stick together.

4️⃣ Talking about your struggle with infertility is less emotional.

Before becoming a mom, it was really, really hard (borderline impossible) to utter the words pregnancy, baby, infertility… without tearing up.  You’re just a constant ball of emotions that could unravel at anytime.

On the other side, it’s alot easier to talk about your battle, the ups and downs, and ins and outs of your struggle.  It’s still a heated subject, but I can get through it tear-free usually.  Sometimes the happy tears flow.

5️⃣ You can still instantaneously put yourself back in that place.

When you hear or read something someone’s saying about their trouble getting pregnant, you can immediately put yourself in their shoes.  It’s like you’re  flooded with all the feelings you felt when you were there.  You can feel that same fall-to-your-knees despair you did the day you found out you were 1-in-8.  That same lump -in-your throat nervousness will overcome you when you think back to waiting on results and Beta day.  Pictures of BFN’s, waiting room selfies, and follicle monitoring ultrasounds will still get you every. single. time.

6️⃣ Words still hurt and pregnancy announcements still sting.

Maybe it’s just me, but I’m pretty certain I’m not alone.  Even after becoming a mom and having my turn, pregnancy announcements or hearing someone say they’re starting to try again still jabs me a little.  I think it’s less to do with the other person because honestly I’m so happy for them.  I think, just like the initial go-around, it’s more just having a little pity party for myself.  Like, I wish it were that easy for us.  I wish we could have an oops or just decide to try again and fall pregnant.

The thief of comparison still rears its ugly head too.  For example, if someone posts that they’re pregnant again I can’t help but think to myself that they’re first is half of my son’s age.  It usually involves some social media detective work and calculating, but I can’t help myself.

7️⃣ You’re like rain man with the dates.

I barely can remember what I did two days ago or someone’s name that I run into shopping.  Yet, I can, without hesitation, spew off every significant date of our journey.

October 14, 2014: received diagnosis of Azoospermia

February 20, 2014:  Egg Retrieval & TESE

February 23, 2014:  Transfer

March 10, 2014: Beta Day…

October 24, 2014: Birth of our baby boy

8️⃣ You cherish every moment because you’re not sure you’ll ever get the chance again.

Don’t get me wrong, sleepless nights, teething, and tantrums can ware anyone down.  Yet you recognize the pure blessing every waking (& sleeping) moment is that much more.  Not only will you never get that moment in time back with your little miracle, but you don’t know if you’ll even get the opportunity to experience it with another baby.  So, this helps to put things in perspective when you’re up to your ears in shit and spit-up.  It also makes you spend more money because what if I never have another to put this romper on?!  I gotta get it now before he’s too big for it. 💸💸💸

This too shall pass, but at the same time you wish you could put it in slow motion.  Every milestone, achievement, glance at baby toes, and every time you go to pack away stuff they’ve outgrown is a moment you don’t take lightly.

The best advice I was given for my wedding day was to every once in awhile, take a step back to look around and take it all in (Thanks Jen 😘)!  The same applies for mommyhood.  Every once in a while, usually during the most ordinary day, I take a step back to savor these precious and all-too-fleeting moments.

9️⃣ You will be able to reflect on your infertility journey in a much more meaningful way.

Similiar to numbers 3️⃣-5️⃣, being on the other side enables you to look back on your struggle.  In some ways you see it exactly as you had experienced it and in other ways you see it thru a different lense.  Dare I say it, could the wait have been what we needed?  Could it had been a lesson we needed to learn?  Was it all just God’s plan because he needed extra time creating our baby and molding us as parents?

I’m still not sure and flip-flop back and forth on my feelings.  I do know for certain, though, that I was destined to use my struggle and success story to help others in the same situation.

1️⃣0️⃣ It’s so worth the wait.

Bottom line.

What I’ve learned most from being on the other side is that infertility changes you forever.  Even after you’ve overcome it, it never escapes you.

 

 

 

New Year, New Feels

{Starting the year off on the right foot with my Pineapplade Pineapple + Grenade Courtesy of Bucketshoes}

Holy crap, guys, has it really been a month since I last posted?!? That’s the longest since I’ve launched the blog. Between my x-mas shopping list for the southern part of the state (not much of an exaggeration), organizing and attending various holiday festivities, the baby’s first fever and the hubby working ’round the clock 🕰(#retailwifeproblems)-oh and chasing a two-year-old all day errday, December had me like 😳🤒😰🏃🏼‍♀️⚡️🏎🆘. No excuses, just letting you know where I’ve been.

So that brings us here to January! A new year brings all the new feels. Seriously, I’ve been like this odd merge of the energizer bunny and an overdue pregger with the purging after a three-day hiatus of jammies, Nick Jr. 24-7 & non-stop medicine. First ear infection for the babe, make that a double, and then catching some sinus/ear thing myself. Thanks, winter-I ain’t mad at ch’ya though. I actually look forward to January and February because in my head I think things are going to slow down and there will be more days at home staying cozy. Thus far, 2017 has been great to us. We’ve enjoyed catching up on family time, visiting with out-of-town relatives, and starting some new projects. New year goals are re-doing our living/family room space, getting more organized and simplifying (I mean that’s a standard every year gotta make the list thang), new venture to expand On Prayers and Needles and finally get the support group up and running…and dun, dun, dun…the moment some of you may have been waiting for-starting the process for baby #2.

I’d be lying if I said this hasn’t been part of my plan since Mikie’s arrival-maybe even before. I’d really love to do an IVF cycle sometime in the late spring/early summer. But then reality smacks me right in the face. It’s January and we haven’t had any infertility related appointments since we graduated from our RE in April 2014. Should we have? Most certainly, my husband should’ve had a post-op follow up. We should’ve had him continue on the hormone therapy. We should’ve probably been monitoring all along. But that shits hard. It ain’t for the faint of heart and we were finally pregnant, then finally parents and who wanted to be bothered with appointments, bloodwork, and tests?

We should’ve, would’ve, could’ve done a lot of things differently knowing we wanted to try for at least one more. But we didn’t. If you’ve ever faced infertility, you know why we didn’t. Once you’re finally expecting you want to savor every single second of the experience. You’re literally, as with any expectant couple, on cloud-9 and by no means were we going to let infertility strip us of that too. Then there are those incredible first days in the hospital as a family, followed by months and months of new beginnings, new milestones and pure joy. The last thing we wanted to think about was our infertility. I wish I could say out of sight, out of mind; however, at least for me, it’s always been there in the back of my mind.

The old me might have felt guilty saying that. I might have even apologized for still wanting more. Yet, I’ve come to realize that that is not something I should be embarrassed to say. If a fertile couple wanted a second child, nobody would give it a second thought, so why should it be any different for us? Yes we’re blessed beyond belief and immensely grateful for our miracle child. But yes, we are allowed to want to grow our family, or at least give it another shot-well shots if you want to speak literally.

The biggest issue is that my husband and I have the same final destination, yet as one of our besties put it we “have two completely different approaches about how to get there.” We’re a good team because we always want the same things and have a common goal, but he’s the dreamer; I am the realist. He creates the ideas and I execute them. I’m type-Aish and he’s somewhere in C/D land if that’s even a thing. He’s the procrastinator and I’m the ahead-of-deadline meeter . A perfect example is since re-enrollment for insurance was upon us, I called the insurance company to ensure our coverage and which of his meds and procedures were covered. That would’ve never even have crossed his mind. And usually thats okay and it works for us, but in the case of TTC baby #2 it doesn’t. I can make the appointment, but he has to go (which he hasn’t TWICE since November). I can do all the legwork, but if he’s not there it’s basically pointless.

I know many of you are probably reading this thinking if he really wants another baby he wouldn’t have cancelled. And I get that-it’s even crossed my own mind. The truth though is that he wants it’s just as much as me. I’m certain of that and anyone who knows us personally can attest to it, but infertility sucks. It’s sucks the life right out of you. From that first appointment comes a daunting sequence of events that vaccums you into a deep dark hole. He doesn’t want to go there. He knows it’s worth it. He knows there’s no other option. He knows he’d do it a thousand times over just to get our sweet babe, but he knows what it’s like. In some cases being familiar makes it easier, but, at least for us, that’s not the case.

I can’t help but to forgive him because I know he doesn’t want to jump off this happiness ship we’re on to start drowning, and maybe sink. I know where he’s coming from, but I also know if we want this, which we do, you can’t get from point A to point B without ever starting out. From my perspective, it’d be so much easier if we were proactive so that it didn’t get to that point when we wanted a second baby yesterday. So it’ll be interesting to say the least to see how and if we get there this year.

New year, new feels. I can’t help but feel positive and hopeful that this will be the year I will be pregnant again. It’s how I’m wired to think, just like I’m wired to want to plan it in my head. It makes it a little easier knowing you’re all here though, following along on our journey. I think having this support and community will make our second time around different than the first and for that I get all the feels 💞🍍😍🙏🏼😘👭👶🏼✨.

Share Your Story

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What has amazed me the most since launching this little baby blog of mine last February, is how just sharing your story can make the difference for someone. If I run into someone or get a message and they commend me, I almost feel silly. All I’ve done is put our journey out there to give someone who’s in the trenches of infertility some glimmer of hope. It’s really quite a simple thing; yet as they say, “Sometimes the simplest things, can mean the world to someone.”

I have to admit, in the midst of our struggle, I was not always so forthcoming with information. However that was more to protect my husband’s privacy. Truth be told, I needed to share/discuss/vent/scream from the rooftops, that we were going through hell and might not even come back with a baby, but that was not his wish. I respected that and kept the details to a select few, which was one of the hardest parts for me. I wanted to talk more about what we were going through for so many reasons.

Mostly, it’s not good to keep it all bottled up inside. It just lends itself to a breaking point, which I had my fair share of. I vividly remember having a complete breakdown during a family spa day after the holidays. We were anticipating our next appointment before the end of December and it was as if I had kept it altogether for the holidays and just couldn’t take another second of putting on a happy face. Some minute thing set me off. I broke. I fell apart. I was embarrassed. I felt weak and guilty. I thought I hope these people {my husband’s family and extended family whom I am extremely close to} don’t think I’m nuts, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. Holding it in without discussing what was really happening and what I was really going through became too much. I had my go-to people, even some that had dealt with infertility to talk to openly but I wanted these people-the people I was around 24/7, holidays, birthdays, etc. to know what my days and nights were like (as much as someone who hasn’t experienced it firsthand can). The constant stream-of-consciousness playing in my head became too much and I needed to get it out.

Opening up and sharing your story is cathartic. Even though I’ve been much more public about our struggle after the birth of my son, there is still something so therapeutic about putting it out there. In hindsight, I’ve come to realize that even just pen to paper can be rejeuvenating. I wish I had journaled more, documented more details, chronicled the steps more closely and more often. Definitely will the second time around…

Sharing your story can be a scary thing. You’re afraid of opinions, judgements, and possible backlash you’ll receive. You’re not looking to be pitied or for your friends to avoid you about pregnancy/baby/mommy things. Sharing your story is more something you need to do for yourself. It’s almost invigorating, the sense of relief when you put it out there. You’ll find you will receive some nice gestures, such as prayers and lending ears. Then will come others who have been where you’ve been or are in the midst-some you may know about and others that leave you shocked. Yet, just by you telling your story, they’ll feel comfortable enough to confide in you about theirs.

On a larger scale, being open about infertility gets the dialogue going. It shows that all of us 1 in 8 are united in spreading awareness and promoting advocacy. It will help to relinquish the stigma and isolation associated with infertility and the more stories, the more arsenal we have for legislation to cover IVF and other fertility treatments.

I understand and respect the choice to remain private about your struggle. It’s a very delicate matter, but I strongly recommend that in some capacity you share your story. Whether that be keeping a journal, writing it in a letter that you throw in the ocean, or sharing your story on social media. Maybe there is a friend you’ve been contemplating talking to or an acquaintance you know who has been through IVF that you can reach out to. Creating a TTC/infertility-related Instagram account is also a good way to share what you’re going through, while keeping it private from people you may know personally. If you’re not at the point in which you’re ready to go “public”, write your story to me onprayersandneedles@gmail.com. It’s completely confidential and you can remain anonymous if you so choose. Along the same lines, if you have any questions/concerns/are in need of advice, support, prayers, I often put anonymous posts on my Instagram @onprayersandneedles. I’d be happy to post about anything fertility-related for you.

I just know how powerful sharing your story can be. If not for yourself, do it for someone else in whatever way you feel most comfortable. I can assure you, though, that it will be a turning point in your journey. As much as it can mean the world to someone else, it can change your own world too.

MFI: Male Factor Infertility, Major Female Issue or Both?

As if infertility isn’t hard enough to deal with, it’s seeming more and more that Male Factor Infertility (MFI) is the primary or sole cause. From experience, I can attest that MFI adds a whole other layer to deal/grieve/cope with. It may as well also stand for Major Female Issue.

Traditionally speaking, infertility has always been thought of as a female disease. For decades, it was even uncouth to suggest that it could be the male partner with infertility concerns. While the majority of women still blame themselves if their lady parts aren’t cooperating, it’s less taboo than if the problem lies within the man. As women, we believe that we should be capable of conceiving and carrying a baby to delivery. An inability to do so can be heartaching, damaging, and cause feelings of uselessness.

Manliness, however, seems to be judged based on what you’re working with down below. So much of guy talk revolves around how you work it that even young boys hone in on the social expectations of what having man parts means. It becomes a standard measure of how much of a guy’s guy you are. Therefore, when MFI comes into play it can be a huge blow to a guy’s ego and even their identity. There’s a shame and inadequacy that goes beyond that of a female in my opinion because as women there’s so much else that plays into our femininity.

In our case, what was initially thought to be the problem was my inconsistent ability to ovulate. It turned out, though, that MFI was the main concern with why we’re unable to coneveive naturally. Thus, I experienced both firsthand. Mind you, anovulation is fairly common and easily treated, so I didn’t go through any guilt or self-worth issues. I figured, like anything, if it’s broke, fix it. Yet when I learned the news of my husband’s diagnosis I felt as if the world was coming crumbling down on me. It wasn’t that it just meant there was a possibility of never having a biological child, but even more in that moment, that I had to tell him something was “wrong” with him.

I don’t even like using that term in quotations because in infertility, blame is the root of all evil. There’s no sense in placing blame on who’s fault it is because either way you can’t do it without one another. Don’t get me wrong, are there moments in which “I wouldn’t have to do this if it weren’t for you” thoughts happen or when you’re tempted to pull the “blame” card out in the middle of a fight? Of course, because we are only human. However, avoiding ever labeling one another as the issue is crucial. That, mixed with the associated emotions of struggling to get pregnant, is a deadly potion for any relationship.

Yet, the question comes up more often than not, “Is it you?” Or “Has your husband been checked?” We found it helpful to come up with a blanket statement in the beginning before we were comfortable disclosing the details. “We are both having issues but are seeing a fertility specialist,” usually was enough to keep the inquiries at bay.

I vividly remember asking my poor husband at 6:30 in the morning, before I left for work one day, what I should say. I offered to say it was all me because, lets face it, that’d be easier. In fact MFI is also a Major Female Issue because I believed that wholeheartedly~that if I were the “problem” it’d be simpler. I wouldn’t have had to lie or keep the details of our diagnosis secret. I wouldn’t have had to be vague about what was going on. I wouldn’t have had to worry about scheduling, and doctors appointments and relaying the information because I’d be the one there. (My husband felt more comfortable going to his urologist follow-ups without me; I’d attend the “major” ones and all appointments with our RE.). I could be the one doing all the leg-work, all the tough stuff and he could just be on the side-lines to support me. I would be the only one having blood work, shots, and procedures which physically, mentally, and emotionally seemed more manageable.

Instead, I had to prod to get him to go to the the doctor. I had to pry to get more answers and plea for him to ask the doctor my questions. I had to watch him inject himself with meds that insurance wouldn’t cover and repeatedly be anxiety ridden over semen analyses. I had to tread lightly between being too over bearing and not attentive-enough all while trying to ensure that he was okay. That he didn’t blame himself or worse off think I did. MFI adds a whole other layer because besides worrying about yourself, or you as a couple, you’re constantly worrying about him as an individual. How is he coping? Is he as sad as I am? Is he about to reach his breaking point? When will he say enough is enough? Does this consume him the way it does me? Why can’t he talk more about it? Why is he sleeping and I can’t? Is this what’s keeping him up tonight?

That’s what love is, though, worrying about another more than yourself. And while he may not have been as open or chatty about it, his actions said it all. They said that he loves me so much he’d do anything to have a baby with me. They showed me that he was selfless and willing to sacrifice it all, even some of his dignity, if it’d make me happy. They showed me that he was more “manly” than any guy I’d ever met and if guys were as half a man as he, the world would be a better place.

Fertility is hard. I think in some ways MFI can make it harder on you both. It has shown me though, that having a family was just as much a priority for me as it was him. MFI forced my husband to get to that place mentally where I had been for a long time. He had finally come to realize my longing and felt the same fears, grief, sadness that I had. Just in the way that it has shaped me as a mom, infertility also shaped him into the amazing daddy he is. What an example for our son to see what it means to truly be a man.

A Letter to My Son as He Turns 2

 

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{One of my fav pics of the two of us // 5 months old}

To My Son on Your 2nd Birthday,

It doesn’t seem possible that the best day of Mommy and Daddy’s lives is that far behind us; it seems more impossible to encapsulate in words all that I feel as I watch you become a two-year-old right before my very eyes. But just like we do everyday for one another, I will try my very best.

I always say that from the very first moment I held you in my arms, I was so proud to be your momma. I would’ve never imagined having the chance to experience that same sensation every. single. day of your life. Do we do time outs and attitude changes? Do we do “No thank you’s” and “excuse yourself”? Of course, but yet still everyday when I put you to bed I’m so proud of the little boy you’re growing to be.

You’ve learned so much over the past year, from walking and talking, to counting and colors. What I’ve loved watching most though is your special spirit emerge and your unique personality shine through. You’re non-stop with the exception of your Nicky-Nicky (aka solid 2-2.5 hour nap).  Your face lights up when you see the ones you love most. When you’re uber excited about something, you scrunch your nose and put your hands under your chin which always makes my heart smile. Our days are mostly fun-filled and jam-packed with activities like library, music and your current fav, ball class with your BF Paulie. Yet, the best times are when I glance back at you in the car and I catch you staring at me as if to say “I adore you,” or we slow dance to country music in the living room. I especially enjoy when it’s bedtime and you say “Mommy stay.  Me lay rocking chair.” You never cease to amaze me with the things you remember, the way you connect with others, and how you’re always even-stephens. When you hold daddy’s hand, you hold mine & when you cuddle with me, you make sure to lean over to squeeze dada every once in awhile. My heart explodes when I hear you say “amen” during prayers and I love the way you wave to our church when we pass by.  I secretly love when someone talks about the pool and you say “Me cry mommy” because you don’t want to be away from me even for a short time. The way your laugh is contagious and how you understand our humor is beyond your years.

You’re a lover of trucks, tubbies and all-day snacking. You’re a giver of huggies, “I love ooo’s” and smirks before you do something fresh . You’re obsessed with Paw Patrol, Dora, reading Little Blue Truck, and playing outside with “me girls” down the street. You’re a creature of habit like daddy and a galavanter like me.  You can’t live without your wuby, hot dogs, lollipops and park trips. And your day isn’t complete unless you have a breakfast appetizer in bed watching your programs and daddy screaming “Not-so-fast”, “Hi-yah” and “one last time” as he shuts the lights for bed.

I can’t live without the sound of your voice calling my name, the touch of your hands on my cheeks, and the look you give me that tells me you know you’re so loved. You’re my day date and daddy’s mini-me. In all the time we spent waiting for you,  I couldn’t have envisioned a more perfect and precious son for us.  You, my child, are so special that every night after I kiss the “crown on your head”, I close your bedroom door and thank my lucky stars that I get to be your mommy.

May your soul always be this pure, your spirit this free, and may your heart always be this full.

Happy 2nd Birthday Baby Boy!

Lucky 8

 

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For as long as I can remember, 8 has always been my lucky number. It’s no coincidence that my husband proposed to me on 08.08.06 at 8 something in the evening on a sunset cruise. And just this past Tuesday we celebrated 8 years of marriage. It felt nothing short of lucky this anniversary, as we toasted over Moscow Mules after our first getaway sans baby 🙌🏼 {we both now agree it was long overdue & did us good}.

This post may seem far removed from infertility but in all actuality it’s very much relevant. You see I’m one of those that still believes in the sanctity of marriage. It’s something I dreamt of as little girl and then even more as a smitten teenager. I planned in my head it would happen sometime in my twenties ✔️ to my soulmate ✔️ we would be settled in our careers ✔️ become homeowners ✔️ and then a few years later start our family 🚫 repeat again ~three years later 🚫 and again if it was right 🚫…and live happily ever after.  The more and more I connect with others in the TTC and infertility communities, the more and more I hear how I’m not alone in this so-well-thought-out mentality.  That’s partially why I felt inclined to write this post.  It’s a hard nut to swallow when your life’s plan doesn’t seem to be going as you envisioned; while you’ve been blessed with your significant other, have built your nest, and possibly even have landed your dream job, having to wait to start your family can be devastating.  Moreover, it can impact all the aforementioned positive things you have going on in your life and have already checked off the list.

Eight years of marriage has taught us many things:  commitment, compromise, priorities, communication,    conflict-resolution (all which are still a work in progress 😝).  It’s also important to be one another’s biggest fan, best friend, and better half.  My best gal pals love my “marriage isn’t rainbows and Louis Vuittons,” drunken quote, but truthfully my husband and I always say the key to marriage or any long term relationship is getting through the ruts and falling in love over and over and over again.   There are days, weeks, maybe even months where you’re both ‘meh’.  It may not be anything, just the day-ins and day-outs of life.  Or it may be something tangible like the loss of a job or infertility that causes the rut.

It’s difficult to work past those times and those deadlines in your head telling you you’re almost 30 (or in your 30’s or almost 40-the age is irrelevant) and still childless.  I can recall our fifth anniversary as a poignant moment when the realization that my life’s plan had gone awry.  It had been just shy of a year from our diagnosis. I know a year seems minuscule and in comparison to others TTC journey it is, but if you’ve ever “tried” getting pregnant even just months of seeing one line on sticks, without actually being infertile, can be devastating.  I had imagined at least having one baby by five years of marriage and the evil plague of comparison had gotten the best of me.  Many of our friends who had gotten married around us or even after us were on #1, #2, or even #3 and here we were five years later basically in the same place as we had started.  See, I didn’t realize then how five years of marriage may have been what we needed to indulge in ourselves and evolve as “us”.  We went to Newport and had a nice, romantic getaway, but the infertility was still there and it was heavier to bear than usual.  My husband and I decided to re-new our vows at the same church where JFK and Jacqueline Kennedy Onasis wed.  It was a special and intimate moment that I am glad we chose and have committed to do every five years.  All my prayers, though, didn’t go to us; they went to sending us a child.

Thanks be to Him, we became parents a little over a year later.  Albeit, three years longer than my plan.  In the last couple of years, we have both strived to be the best parents to our little guy, learning and evolving as individuals and as a family more each day.  There has been so much joy and happiness since Mikie’s arrival that I can honestly say these are the best days of our lives. That’s not to say there haven’t been little ruts along the way.  With so much of our emphasis on him, it’s easy to put us to the side.  However this anniversary we are in a different place, or at least I think I am in my head.    This year, the lucky 8, I didn’t find myself squandering in the plan.  It was less about what we’re going to do and more about look what we’ve done.  I wasn’t thinking about where I had planned to be relative to where we are.  I wasn’t analyzing and comparing.  I was there, present in the beauty of what 8 years looks like.

Is baby #2 always in the back of my mind? Of course and I’d be lying to all of you, and more importantly myself if I said I didn’t have a plan (in the vaguest sense you can with IVF) in my head for that.  But after 8 years of marriage {like I’m some veteran lol 🙄} I can at least tell you newlyweds that while the plan may not always go as you had hoped, it can turn out even more beautiful.  Sometimes we focus on those big milestones: the engagement, the wedding, the big 3-0, first baby, 5th wedding anniversary without seeing how important the in-between is.  8 is a seemingly insignificant number, but it feels lucky to me and turned horizontally means infinity, so here’s to us, babe, from our 8th anniversary until forever.

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