Over and over and over and...

There are many reasons why I blog- for support, to vent, to grieve, to celebrate.
There is pretty much one reason why I stop bloggin'- when I am stuck- Emotionally stuck by something. As I have been slowly returning to bloggin' I have realized there were two icebergs that I haven't been able or willing to face, and those icebergs are what kept me from bloggin. Because when I blog, I process things, and I just wasn't willing or able to face the icebergs.

The icebergs are starting to thaw-

Iceberg 1-

I started seeing a counselor in November. I had been wanting to start seeing one for a while- actually right after grad school. In fact, just out of grad school, I started seeing a counselor, and quit after the fourth session. I don't think she was very good - but I felt like she also was trying to tell me to grow up and get over it which I wasn't ready to hear yet either. I hadn't even started TTC yet when I started seeing her. I had my first miscarriage during the time I was seeing her. I stopped going.

Fast forward two miscarriages, two failed IUIs and I finally found the inertia (or desperation!) to start seeing another counselor. I have been seeing her 2-4 times a month since November. I mostly like her (which is good enough for me), but more importantly I trust that she is very skilled at what she does.

So, we have done some of the traditional talk therapy. I can tell she has let me grieve and been gentle not pushing me too hard, which I appreciate. And then, sometime this spring, her approach started changing. She started picking up on my times of depression, particularly around the loss anniversaries, and some of the raw, open wounds that are still very close to the surface and not healing despite counseling.

She asked if she could do an assessment on me for PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder. I shrugged my shoulders figuring it couldn't hurt to answer a list of questions. Not thinking it would really tell us anything.

The answers said quite a bit- even to me. I could see light bulbs of understanding connecting in my counselors nods. I could tell that she felt like she had really touched on something significant.

I will be honest, I didn't know much about PTSD and still don't. I know it is commonly association with veterans returning from war. Or victims of rape, or other abuses. But miscarriages? I never made the connection. And interestingly enough, to this day, since she brought it up, I haven't even consulted Dr. google. In part, I decided I didn't want to label this, or create expectations. And I didn't trust at first that she really knew what she was doing. So, I humored her. And I went along with her plan.

The plan, you ask?

At every counseling session, she would have me do a few minutes of some calming breathing exercises, and close my eyes. And then, from the very beginning, tell the story of my 2nd miscarriage. Recalling every possible detail, in depth. And when I was done, and the Kleenexes were all used up, she would have me start all over again. Over and over and over.

For the past two months!

We don't ever talk, she just listens as I tell the same story over and over. And at times she has me pause, and she asks questions, she gets me to tap into the grief, and the woundedness and recall the raw emotion I felt at the time.

And it has not been pretty.

I have wanted to quit from the very beginning. I came home after the first and second session and I told my husband she was a lunatic, uncaring, and cruel. it felt plain cruel.

I didn't think I was going to be able to continue on. I started dreaming of making up excuses in my head to skip sessions, I would have to talk to myself to convince myself to pick up my purse, grab the keys, and drive to the session each week.

At one point I even told her that I didn't trust that this process was going to benefit me. I told her, and yet she had me start from the beginning of the story all over again and just keep telling it.

And this is part of why I haven't blogged. It truly was one of the most grueling counseling seasons of my life. I thought many times about wanting to talk about this process of "de-sensitization" and the research she talks about that shows how it helps people heal from trauma. I have wanted to share what a relief it was to feel validated finally that indeed my miscarriages were traumatic. They weren't just losses, they were traumas- physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

And I am breathing again. And the change hasn't been subtle. Daily, I catch myself noticing something is a bit different.

She says that the desensitization process, the retelling of the story, is a way to start to own the loss. Acknowledging that yes this happened, and yes this is a devastating loss(es) that has shaped and redefined me and my life, but it is not all consuming. And in retelling the story, she says I am able to acknowledge this as part of the fabric of my life, but be released by the all consuming grip of grief and fear.

And she has been right. And frankly there is a bit of inner strength that bubbles up in me when I to realized that I faced the story, and as I tell it now sitting in her office, there are far less moments of feeling like I am suffocating, there are far less moments in which I feel like I will be sucked into the couch if I really share ALL the details. Instead, there is a subtle knowing that this will always be a wound I will carry, but I can also carry forward and be okay.

We have come close to being done retelling the 2nd miscarriage story. When we started this process many weeks ago, she had asked me to list my three most traumatic occurrences during the last two years of infertility and loss. Of the three, the 2nd miscarriage I had said was the least traumatizing. Soon we will be moving on the 2nd hardest event, and then on to the first. This won't be a short process, and I imagine I will relive many of the same emotions again, but for now, I am holding my head up a bit higher, trusting the new breath that is coming.

Stay tuned for Iceberg #2 that is thawing- this is plenty for one post.

bloggin'

It's been nearly two months since I last posted. I'm not sure exactly why. It just has gotten hard to post here. I continue to read along, but I have gone quiet on commenting as well.

I find myself not posting here because I don't want this place to only be about the darkness and I tend to be drawn to bloggin when I have stuff I need to dump. And life isn't actually all bad right now. I find myself not posting because I don't know where I am going on this IF journey. This blog was started as we began to navigate TTC after our miscarriages. But we are no longer working with an RE. We no longer have a plan (or the option of) saving for IVF or adoption right now. And while I want to still be TTC on our own, to be honest, that just isn't actively happening either right now.

I feel like what hyper active dog must feel like, tethered on a leash staked into the ground, that just keeps running and running in circles until it has worn itself out. That is where I am at. All paths toward parenting that are within my control have been explored and ruled out as options right now. And I am just tuckered out and trying to come to terms with living life without knowing the plan. I think in part, coming back to this blog reminds me of the energy spent running in circles, only to not feel any closer to the goal.

To be honest, more often than not I think I subconsciously spend a lot of energy convincing myself that parenting is not really the end all, be all. Convincing myself that it really isn't what I want. I know that is just a coping mechanism, but that's how it goes right now.

But then I witness some of the most beautiful moments in the lives of women I don't even know, but whose perseverance amazes me. The birth of Natalie's beautiful daughter, seeing Stacy's healthy pregnancy with her long awaited lil' girl Lily, and Katy as she is preparing to welcome her 2nd child. All of whom have endured more loss than humanely imaginable. I have been lurking on some of their blogs and many others even before I knew the pain of miscarriage, heck some of them even before we started TTC. And I am reminded what this journey is all about. And I hope that in whatever is around the corner in this next chapter of our journey, that I can find their kind of patience and perseverance... and hope.

Anti-depressant and Marriage counseling

How's that for a heavy blog title.

Anti-depressant- my counselor asked if I might consider exploring is an anti-depressant would be right for me. Ugg. DH brought this up several weeks ago as well (unfortunately, the timing or manner in which he brought it up wasn't good, and it led to an all out fight- tears, cussing, the works.) Sigh.

I know I probably should at least talk to my doctor. I loathe the idea of making the investment of time it will take to find the right drug and wait until i've been on it long enough to even know if it will work. And then rinse and repeat. I don't like the idea of being on one while ttc. are we even ttc any more? who knows.

But I know that my "blueness" is now probably more than just normal grief associated with all of our losses. Grrr.

I don't like this. But it is time to be a grown up and deal with this- or at least explore my options.

Marriage counseling-
I brag about my marriage here. I talk about how I have the best DH in the world. And yet, I finally had to come to admit that this journey we have been on with IF and losses has taken its toll. Things have been rocky lately. Longer than just lately. Hard to say for sure- it just feels like it creeps up and in.

Usually when we have tough spells, they are brief, we find a way to reset and come back to who we really are, and even at times we end up a bit stronger in our relationship. But that hasn't been happening. And for the first time in our marriage- we both have been a bit scared by the fact that we haven't been able to find our center again.

I brought it up to my counselor yesterday. And she asked how long I have felt like we have been having this tough spell. I said it's hard to know for sure, but probably since January/February.

"Since you decided to take a break from TTC."

Duh. But of course. It made so much sense. I hadn't even considered the similarities in the timing.

when we were TTC, there was a purpose, a shared mission, a common goal. And now, now the grief and discouragement just settles in deeper and deeper.

She encouraged seeing a counselor together. And it was a good reminder that by acknowledging that we probably could benefit from marriage counseling, we're not admitting that we are failing or even in crisis. rather it is an acknowledgment that we could benefit by having someone walk along side us, and carry a bit of this very heavy burden we've been shouldering.




Update on the phone call
Nothing really to update. We called our friend, let her know that we'd be interested in at least asking some questions if her friend (the boys' aunt) wanted to. We haven't heard anything. Which is fine. We did our part in opening the door for conversation. And I have found myself spontaneously and without effort gravitating to praying for her and the boys often. For everyone involved, it is a tough situation. As as tough as it is for the Aunt to be raising the boys, I also can't imagine making the decision to initiate a conversation around having someone else adopt them. How would you ever pick up the phone and start that conversation?

A phone call

I got a phone call from a friend today.

She and her husband both work at the same place my husband and I work. They have adopted two kids (international adoptions) and so a common interest was the catalyst for the friendship, and while we don't know each other really well yet- we really enjoy the time we have spent with them so far- a few dinners, walks during lunch break at work. She is one of the few people I have shared pretty openly with our journey - the miscarriages, the fears, etc. She is an IFer herself and just understands.

She called me at work- we have both been busy and barely seen each other lately. She apologized in advance that her conversation was going to cut right to the chase and we'd have to do lunch to do the true catching up that we were overdue for.

She had just come from a long talk with a friend of hers. The friend is also an employee at our company. I recognize her name, but don't know her personally. This friend recently, and unexpectedly, became the temporary guardian for two little boys, 2 and 3 years old, when their dad died. As much as she longs to keep them connected in the family, she is not in a place to raise them as her 4 kids are already grown adults. Sounds like there are no other family members either.

She wants the best for them. A family that could adopt. My friend thought of us.

My friend apologized for the out of the blue phone call. But as unexpected of a call as it was. It also felt a bit, well, I don't know- it just didn't feel as crazy as it sounds when I type it. It felt like at the very least the spirit was whispering "Listen." Listen to the unexpected ways in which I work in your life.

Is it of interest? Worthy of at least some consideration? I would be lying if I said no. My curiosity is peaked. (A post for another time- because I know that might sound exactly opposite to the recent mood of my posts-) Is it crazy? Unrealistic? Probably.

But at least for the weekend, I will listen. Maybe "this" isn't anything. Maybe it is a piece of the journey that we are meant to ponder and move on- but even that is a stepping stone along the path of where this road may take us.

My prayer is just that I may listen well.

The end of anniversaries

Today is the anniversary of one of our d&c. But I feel that hopefulness might just be around the corner.

While is is a tough anniversary, it marks the end of a long long series of anniversaries. Both of our pregnancies were in February (one in '08, one in '09) so all of our anniversaries of our BFP, blood draws, u/s, confirmation of blighted ovums, and finally d&Cs happen from February, throughout March, into April which brings us to April 8. The last significant anniversary date of our two miscarriages. The next dreaded anniversary is not until October (when both our EDD were to be).

So, maybe, just maybe, I'll reconnect with hope again. And embrace all that Spring is meant to be about in the coming months.

It's about time

I've been playing ball on a womens team for a couple of years. They have become, and are becoming, good friends. I enjoy the outlet for healthy competition, and they are a good group of women, and we truly enjoy each other.

But even in the safe community of friends, words can sting.

One of our teammates announced she is pregnant. As an infertile the sensors go up, even before the words are spoken. We know the non verbals that signal the announcement is coming.

And as our team congratulated her, one of our team mates said, "Well, it's about darn time one of you finally got pregnant."

I know what she meant. i know she meant no harm, but oh how it stung ...and stings. She is the only one on the team that has a child, and her daughter is almost school age. So I know what she meant- it has been years, and no talk of babies in this group of friends. Until now. So I know what she meant. But...

I think of our two losses- I want to scream out "But I was pregnant too!! Two times, I just never could tell you, because they came in to my life, and left, all too quickly and with far too much pain." I want to scream it, but I know I can't. Cause society doesn't give space for the pregnancies that came and go all too quickly. But I was screaming it inside, longing to have our little ones acknowledged too.

I left the game pretty quickly afterwards, but not quick enough that I would make anyone take note as the chin started to quiver a bit. A few tears fell as I drove home. But some clarity also came in that exchange tonight.

I realized how much I want that.

I realized that I am not done trying to achieve
"that". I want the chance to publicly celebrate among a community of friends that care for me and I care for them. I want the chance to honor the life within me. And to find some healing for the lives within me that came and went too quickly. Silently slipping into the darkness, never to be celebrated publicly. Two lives that I loved so much, that changed me forever, and I never got to share them with anyone.

I have been beating myself up a bit lately on this whole adoption thing. Adoption is something I have always envisioned for my family. And yet, I am so completely blocked right now that I just can't bring myself into a mental space where I can fathom pursuing that path right now. I can't summon up the excitement anymore for it. And tonight confirmed that for me. It confirmed that I am not ready to walk away from the chance of getting to someday announce those two little words to a group of friends and to get to celebrate with them about the life that is within. that someday will be in my arms.

I want that. And even if it takes more time, effort, and money than I would have liked. It is what I want. And I won't regret it.

Lord let it be.

Oy

I am on day of being fully full-time at my job after my job share colleague took a long leave of absence.

Oy- the job is exponentially expanding by the day. I'll admit I like the distraction for now. But I also second guess the decision some days. Time will tell I guess. I just keep telling myself it is only temporary.