Plan in Pencil

Do any of your ladies remember getting to a point in your marriageable youth when you didn't want to make plans because you didn't know if Mr. Right was around the conner? 'Cause if he was better not switch corners at the last minute. Anyway, for a short while I was almost paralyzed by this thought because it meant so much to me to start a family, and I wanted to do it as soon as possible. But a wise person told me that I had to go on with my life and have a plan. But he said, "Plan in Pencil." Plan. Go full speed ahead, but do it in pencil. You can always change the plan if you need to.

We all know I practiced this preaching when I "planned" on serving a mission, got a mission call, changed the departure date three times and then got marriage instead.

Motherhood is also pretty good practice for this, but it is more about the daily plan. Remember my excitement for Quinn's first day of nursery at church? I picked the outfit, did a test run, talked to her teachers, got the camera ready and was ready to go. But in 18-month-old fashion she was sick with a cough, and the penciled plan was ... postponed. (I was not about to have her get pegged as the nasty, sick, coughing kid on the very first day!)

Pencil. Temporary. It is a nice feeling because you remember that you have a lot of the control over your life. Remember how my husband is in a rock band? We use a lot of pencil. I think I like life this way. When Tim was starting his big corporate job a few years ago, I had a panic attack because I felt like the job and the plan were all in ink. Forever. I hated it. Hence, I added the Chris Merritt clause which changed the plan to pencil. 8 months later... erase.... and here we are.

Tim has been talking about moving to the east coast. I'd love to. Sounds great. But I am going to plan on staying here ... in pencil. I will stay completely invested in the moment, the neighborhood, the job and my very wonderful friends and deal with the east coast if the official erase ever happens. (I liked to try and see him erase without me on board. Good luck, baby.)

Fertility is also all about pencil.

A favorite teacher once said in Winston Churchill fashion, "You have to plan, you have to plan, you have to plan, and you can't do anything without a plan." And like any good scholar, I researched the theory and added to it ... in pencil.

Infertility's Common Thread

Please notice the addition to the right sidebar of my blog.

The Infertility's Common Thread is a piece of pomegranate colored thread that women can wear on their right wrist during and after a battle with infertility as a silent sign of support to others who are struggling. It has always been really important to me to never forget the pains that have come with this struggle. (Of course, that was easier to say when i thought the struggle was over two years ago.) As I have explained before, infertility is by its very nature lonely, sad, confusing and painful, and I have brainstormed for months a way to feel more connected to people who understand. Anyway, I found Infertility's Common Thread, and I intend to be a big supporter. It was started on one woman's blog at http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/2006/09/history-of-infertilitys-common-thread.html

This is the mission statement:

Pomegranates, a longstanding symbol of fertility, serve as a strong analogy to those suffering through infertility. Though each pomegranate skin is unique in colour and texture, the seeds inside are remarkably similar from fruit to fruit. Though our diagnosis is unique—endometriosis, low sperm count, luteal phase defect, or causes unknown—the emotions, those seeds on the inside, are the same from person to person. Infertility creates frustration, anger, depression, guilt, and loneliness. Compounding these emotions is the shame that drives people suffering from infertility to retreat into silence.

In addition, the seeds represent the multitude of ways one can build their family: natural conception, treatments, adoption, third-party reproduction, or even choosing to live child-free.

The pomegranate thread holds a two-fold purpose: to identify and create community between those experiencing infertility as well as create a starting point for a conversation. Women pregnant through A.R.T., families created through adoption, or couples trying to conceive during infertility can wear the thread, identifying themselves to others in this silent community. At the same time, the string serves as a gateway to conversations about infertility when people inquire about its purpose. These conversations are imperative if we are ever to remove the social stigma attached to infertility.Tie on the thread because you’re not alone. Wear to make aware.

Join us in starting this conversation about infertility by purchasing this pomegranate-coloured thread (#814 by DMC) at any craft, knitting, or variety store such as Walmart or Target. Tie it on your right wrist. Notice it on others.

IUI Update: lying, crying and clomid

Warning: Graphic Fertility Update. Not for sensitive eyes or for the faint of heart. 

No more babies yet. Round two of the IUI didn't take. I found out on my birthday, which you could probably imagine as a horrible experience. But it wasn't as sad as some months. I've been on an amazing and relaxing summer vacation, so maybe that acting as a buffer between me and my true feelings. 

But I did become a crazy person for a few hours when I called the nurse and lied to her so that I could get for aggressive treatments for next month. Not really my style. I told her I started on Friday, when I didn't start until the next day. She would have given me the medicine without the lie. So basically I risked my eternal soul for nothing. It wasn't worth it. 

But when I tried to justify it, Tim pointed out that the last time I got close to lying (OK, lying) was also for my children. It was for Quinn in the hospital after she was born, when the nurse wouldn't let me take her home until she had "two more good feedings." This was a total farce because she was perfectly healthy, already on a schedule, and had just eaten right before the nurse told me this. So, I did what any self-respecting mother would do. I went in there an hour later and overfed my baby, and then I went back and hour after that and hid behind a screen with my sister. She lied to the nurse for me and told her I was nursing back there. It was proud moment in my motherhood -- the moment where I truly became Quinn's advocate at all costs. 

And in general I feel like I have every right to be an advocate for this unborn, un-conceived baby, but I guess I found my limit because I felt horrible about this lie for days. I eventually called and made my peace with the nurse. I really am crazy. But at least now I am crazy and at peace ... sort of. 

So, the actual update for this month is that I am on Clomid. This is a first for me, and I am a little nervous (mostly because of the lying fiasco but whatever). When you take Clomid, you take one pill on days 3 through 7 of your cycle. I started yesterday and have three more pills to go. The goal of the Clomid is to help your ovary ovulate. In some cases the ovary the ovary will get over stimulated by the Clomid and will release two eggs -- Twins. But this is not actually that common. Most multiple births from fertility drugs come from a different drug that is administered through injections. But still, there is a whole list of side affects to using Clomid, but hopefully the only one I will get is a baby. Seems that worst case says I might get moody, fat or dizzy for five days. I can do anything for five days. So far I have not felt any differently except that I had a sharp pain for like 10 seconds on my left side yesterday. No biggie. I am in it to win it. So whatever. 

Another more urgent goal for trying the Clomid is that I think it might make my cycle shorter. I'm trying to fit two more inseminations in before Tim leaves for tour on Sept. 15. By then it will be time for more tests that Tim does not need to be around for. But as long as we are talking about bad news -- my UVU medical insurance will run out at the end of June which means I need to be pregnant by mid October or so. Yikes. I'll find a way to make it work. I always do. Or -- I guess -- God does. 

A Women's Waiting Room

A detailed rant about all my tears today and the ups and downs of womanhood.

So I sort of had a break down today, but I got to share it with some strangers that gave me some perspective. I went in for my second IUI procedure. I left the house in a bad mood with a seemingly horrible, unfix-able and unfair problem AND very mad at my husband. I got halfway to the freeway when I realized I forgot both my phone and my book. I couldn't turn around because of the nature of an IUI, and I couldn't call Tim to say I was sorry as I had planned to do moments after leaving the house. I also couldn't call any of my sisters or girlfriends to help me work through my issues. And, to top if off, I knew I didn't have a good book to read while I would wait at the doctor's office for over an hour.

When I got to the appointment, the receptionist sent me straight to the business office to pay my bill in full. This was a shock since I had voluntarily called two days before and payed last months bill, and when I called they asked how much of my bill I wanted to pay. I had payed it all, of course. I kindly explained to the horrible person at the counter that I just pain this same amount two days ago, and I had not planned on paying it again right away. I started to tear up and she started to argue and bring a neighbor in on the action. I told her to forget it. I paid the bill while she continued to give me attitude. I still didn't have my phone, and I really needed to talk to Tim to complained about this big mean woman and to tell him how much I love him.

I found a seat in the waiting room and surrendered to a Parenting Magazine (although I am a die-hard Parents Magazine reader.) Within minutes a very happy woman walked in with her 7 week old, her 1-year-old son and her mother. I wanted to puke on them. I tried to focus on my magazine, but I welled up a few times if I thought about the woman at the counter, the woman next to me, my unsolved sadness at home or my overall crazy stress.

A few minutes later a girl my age walked in and tried to explain something to the receptionist. She stopped to cry a few times, and I realized she was having a miscarriage. I started to bawl. I just cried right there in the waiting room. I had to. It was just too sad. There was just too much sadness in the room. I could feel her energy, and it overwhelmed me. I tried to clear myself up, but I just kept remembering her pain. I'd look at her, and I'd start to cry all over again.

So, to try to distract myself, I looked up to another corner of the waiting room. I noticed another woman my age sitting 7 seats away from her husband. They were trying to quietly talk out a fight they were having. She was clearly out of her mind with anger and grief at whatever he did. I heard her say, "But you knew I was upset, and you didn't even try to make me feel better." It was like a script of mine. I wanted to hug her. I understood. But I could feel her tension. It made me cry. I just wanted to tell her that nothing is that bad. He'll understand later and say sorry so she should just enjoy her ultrasound.

I tred to focus on my magazine, but I keep looking at the miscarrying girl, the anger girl, the happy new mom, the wonderful Grandmother. I thought about the horrible woman in the business office, the nice receptionists, the woman who wheeled in her brand new stroller while staring endlessly at her new born. And in that moment we all represented womanhood at various stages of life (or on any given day.) It is intense to be a woman. We're everywhere. We're a little crazy. We're that Garth Brooks song, "She's Fire and Ice." We go through everything. We endure. We overcome. We cry. We laugh. We try. We learn. And Sometimes we just wait. So I just let my tears pour out every few minutes, and when I finally got to the procedure room and the nurse asked me, "How are you today?", I just said "fine" in a not so fine voice like Eeyore because that is truly how I felt.

When it was all over, I rushed home to apologize to my husband who I love so much. I sped all the way, and I when I threw open the front door, he said, "Hey, Mommy's home, Quinn. How did it go, babe?" And he had no I idea I'd left in a huff or that I had not taken my phone.

Oh, Ladies. It is just exhausting sometimes.

IUI Update

For those of you following the IUI experiment, the first month officially failed. Thanks for all of your thoughts and prayers. It really helps to know that you are all rallied behind us whether silently or not. Fingers crossed for this month. I'm saving my pennies and trying not to become a crazy person. It is hard but doable. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger and all that junk...

Thanks again. You make all the difference.

IUI for Father's Day

The following blog with be written in formal Fertileeze, a language women use when talking about fertility so their men won't run and hide. Read at your own risk because I can only be so cryptic:

So, we decided last month to start trying IUI. It cost $220 and basically rocks. But we thought this month was a lost cause because Tim was going to be in Japan when I would receive my LH surge. Well, turns out the calendar was off, and I got my very first positive OPK today! It was quite exciting because I am just not used to any kind of positive result after peeing on a stick. Cross your fingers. The procedure will probably happen tomorrow -- On Father's Day -- and we are hoping for the best. I'll let you know in two weeks.

If you are interested in knowing more about this super personal process, check my other blog jillfellownewfacts.blogspot.com where I will spill it all in the name of new knowledge and hope for others.

Fertility from the past

I was watching "Little House on the Prairie" on Sunday like I always do after church. The episode was the one where Caroline has baby Grace, her fifth and final child. Her fourth baby was a boy who died 4 years before. The episode was emotional. It touched briefly on how little women back then knew about what was happening to them. It also dealt, of course, with grief and death and wanting a boy to help your husband on the farm.

Anyway, I thought about women in this time period, and it really caught my attention. I could say more, but my point is that I found this interesting little Web site with the history of how women, motherhood and fertility have been thought about and understood medically and socially since the pioneer days starting in 1600.

Check it out:
Fertility History Web site

Infertility: Who do you talk to?

Warning: Men hate to hear about Fertility, so if you're reading... you've been warned and should just stop reading.


So, ladies, as most of you know I am totally laking in the fertility side of life. Ever notice that we hear so much more about fertile Myrtle and not nearly enough about the pains and successes of the rest of us?

I get it. It's personal and sad, and we think we're alone. But does it have to be this way? I think the silence just perpetuates the sadness.

I've been a lot better during this round of infertility than I was the first time when I turned into a complete crazy person, but I still have hard days. And I still find it fascinating that this is the only issue in my life that is hard to find the right person to talk to about.

My husband does what he can, but as I have said... he is no woman when it comes to talking and sharing.

And all my friends are in their child-baring years like me, which just causes a lot of chances for awkward moments.

It goes like this: You know I'm trying. I know you know. You get pregnant... it's a good thing I didn't tell you how I really feel. Now that I never shared, I can just drop off a gift and smile real big and maybe it will make everything go by smoothly.

Or how about this? What if I decide you are the one to share with? I finally hit the wall, and you are there. I tell you exactly how badly I hurt. You cry. I cry, and the next day, Yeah!, you're pregnant. Looks like I'll find a new confidant because it is just weird for both of us now.

Or even worse, after my big break down and my vulnerable moment.... Yeah!!! I' pregnant, and now I just feel like a big baby. Now I showed you how crazy I really am for nothing.

None of those options seems worth it, so we just keep quiet.

But whenever I need to talk, all of these scenarios run through my head, and I feel like I have no one.

I'm luckier than most because I have an open personality, and I have a few best friends who are honest about these ackwardnesses. Bridget just came out and told me one day that if I got pregnant, I should not expect her to be happy right away (as she geared up to try again after her two miscarriages.) And my dear Lindsay sat me down after I had been trying to get pregnant for 5 horrible months and told me she was going to try for number two. She told me it was ok to cry. I did ... in front of her and at home. I cried before she got pregnant (the next day) and after. And I will always be grateful for the honesty and love of these two close friends.

But it still doesn't make the problem go away. Who should you talk to? Who will always be there?

My mom thinks I'm too poor to have another baby, so she won't really be listening if I chose to talk to her. My sister who is the best listener I know is having a baby on Wednesday, and I believe with all my soul that she should not have to listen or care about me right now. Plus, she is fertile as hell and can't really understand.

Then anyone you choose is probably going to say something like, "Oh, the minute you stop worrying about it, you'll get pregnant," "It just takes time" or "Oh, you'll probably get pregnant next month."

And there is always the added problem (which isn't really a problem in the end) that for most women with fertility issues, they actually could get pregnant "next month," and since you know that, it is hard to open up. You just wait. And wait.

But eventually, even if it is only for a moment each month, you will hit the wall. You are not wired to keep in this much pain, which is one of the reasons why, of course, you turn into a crazy person.

So, I don't have a complete solution, but I do have some ideas, friends.

Old people and strangers. This is who you should talk to.

They don't have to be that old, but women who are no longer having children can be great to talk to. Now, a lot of them aren't, so be careful. But a lot of them are.

One time on a horrible day, I ended up at my neighbor's house. She's an older women who has several children raised and out of the house. I was at her house to pick up a check for a neighborhood event, and I started asking her questions about the pictures on her wall. She pointed to her kids and starting telling me their ages. There was a 6 year gap from one child until her pair of twin girls. She gently and subtly let me know that the pain of those 6 years was nearly unbearable, and that she sees her twins as the miracle that healed a huge part of her heart.

A few days later a little cat walked into my life and (no joke) because of that talk with Gretal, I was able to see the healing powers in that miracle. I completely changed my life and perspective.

For the next several months, I knew that Gretal was there across the street, and that if I hit the wall, I could go open up to her. I never did. I never needed too, and I think it was because I knew she was an option for me. I wasn't alone.

Just yesterday, I talked to my husband's aunt about her own years of baby making. She had her fair share of trouble. She is not super emotional, but, again, I knew that if I needed to talk at a later time, she will be there.

Strangers are great, too, because they tend to go away. They can be there in the moment, and they can't be there to get pregnant or judge you or gossip about you the next day.

They don't always know what they are talking about, but when you find the right one, they are Golden. I met a friend a few weeks ago on plane who had the same problems I did getting pregnant with her first. We both loved to talk it out and to work through some of the emotion that was still lingering.

I ask strangers all kinds of questions. If they have kids ages 10 and 3, I ask something like, "That is interesting. Did you choose that age difference or was that how life workout for you?" I love the peace and strength I get from their answers, and I find that just like I need to talk, so do they.

Obviously, fertility is huge. I have tons to say about the process, the worry, the reasons, the logic, the medicine and the gospel, but that is all for another day.

In the meantime, here are a few sites that offer places to talk and get more information:
Two of Us for Now: Web site for infertile Mormon couples
Fertility Plus: information from patients for patients
Resolve: A national organization that I am thinking of volunteering with




Quinn at 10 months. My miracle and my inspiration.