spring

As I look out the window and wish for sunshine, I am grateful that even without the sun, spring is in the air.  Some of the trees are budding, the magnolia trees by my school are ready to open, and the robins are back.  And I feel like I am back too, and the fog is clearing.  I haven't written a blog in a very long time.  I was worried I would have nothing more to write.  But in the last week, the need to write has brought me to the computer on a quiet, overcast and rainy Sunday morning.  The only sounds are the humming of the refrigerator and the energetic play of my hyper kitten, Willow, as she races from one room to the other.  It's been a challenging couple of months, but wonderful things have happened as well.  Michael started a new teaching job, we got a kitten, we bought a new house, and we had several visits to the fertility doctor.  We are very excited about our new place, and we move in at the end of the month.  Change.  Something we have wished for, and something we have manifested.  Our place is beautiful: close to the river trail,  near coffee shops and grocery stores, and is our first home we have ever owned.  It will be very sad to leave our mountain, our view, and our wonderful friends and landlords, Vivan and Lorne, who have become our surrogate parents.  They have truly blessed our lives with their friendship.  My health is starting to improve, and although I put my back out in February,  I feel much better than I did before Christmas.  And after multiple blood tests, (17 vials, to be exact) and a special ultrasound, Michael and I received the news that we are a fertile couple, and there is nothing preventing us from having a healthy baby.   Our journey to get pregnant and stay pregnant, is just life, and unexplained.  We had a wonderful meeting with the kindest, optimistic, and heartfelt genetic counselor, who assured us that it will happen.  It was such a relief to know that our struggles are unexplained.  The genetic counselor was surprised that I felt that way, because for some couples, it makes it more frustrating.  For me,  I felt free again.  Free to love the mystery.  Free to trust the universe.  Free to really believe.  Am I scared and nervous? Absolutely.  But, for the first time since Luka was born, I don't feel fearful of it not happening.  As much as I appreciate and am thankful for modern medicine,  sometimes the mystery of conception and birth is taken away by all the answers.  From my experience, we will never know all the answers to the beautiful gift we call life.  As we get ready for our move, and I think about leaving this beautiful mountain retreat,  I have been reflecting on the past four years.  We have made wonderful friends, shared and borrowed Sassy, our neighbour's dog, watched deer and bobcats go by our front door,  and watched beautiful sunrises and sunsets from our bedroom window.   It is in this home, that we conceived Luka and where she grew for nine months.  She was our greatest joy, deepest pain, and biggest gift.  And now,  as I wrestle with all the emotions of leaving this place,  I know we are beginning a new chapter in our lives.  The other evening after I came home from school, the storm clouds blew in.  Amid the rain and sleet, there was a moment where the sun burst through the clouds,  and created the most glorious rainbow.  As I watched it unfold, I gave thanks to the universe, for reminding me of the beautiful mystery of life, the beginning of change, and the opening of the door to all that is possible.

the invisible line

It's been over a month since my last blog, and I have been avoiding writing even though there has been an entry swirling in my head for the past week.  It's been a challenging month, and I have been, and continue to be, through some real ups and downs.  At the moment I am in the constant flux of anxiousness and optimism.  If you don't know me well,  I can be an extremely anxious person.  Over the years I have conquered a great deal of my nerves and over analyzing mind.  But in the last month, my mind has decided it wants control, and my body is now in process of battling the ever powerful mind.  In the last month, I have started to see a counselor.  In our discussions, we came to the conclusion that the mind can be really cruel to the body.  It can tell us lies and can confuse our intuition.  I have also decided that I am a catastrophizer.  I am someone who allows my mind and imagination to only think of the worst situation.   I have always been a worrier, ever since I read my dad's 1960's medical encyclopedia's when I was a little girl, convincing myself I had every disease.  And now, after Luka's death,  I am worried that everything is going to be one big catastrophe.  Everything surrounding Luka's birth was supposed to be beautiful and peaceful, and it ended up being the worst thing that has ever happened to me.  So, I think it makes perfect sense that I would allow my mind to start believing everything important and meaningful that will happen in my life will be disastrous.  And so this has been the cycle of my thoughts for most of December, and now into January.  I'm working on staying optimistic, and there are days where I overwhelmingly feel that 2012 will be the best year we've had in a long time.  Michael got a new teaching job, which he is very excited about.  We met a wonderful new couple, who we just instantly clicked with, and I can't wait to get to know them more.  My friend Marie, is getting married on the beach in the summer , and so summer holidays will be an adventure down the Oregon and California coast.  We're starting the process of having fertility testing,  and it looks promising.  There are so many things to be grateful for, and to look forward to.  But there are some days where it feels like there is this invisible line in my mind which divides my optimism and my anxiety.  Some mornings I wake up and wonder which side I will be on.  It's those days where I don't want to get out of bed, where I don't want to face the world.  But I do.  Because life is too short to ignore what I've been given.  And the choice to face the day, gives me the opportunity to end up on the optimistic side of the line.  I'm working on it.  And there's nothing like a new kitten to help me remember to play, be in the moment, and take naps when you should be planning your school day.  Willow is our newest member of our household.  A new life to distract me from my irrational mind, and keep me laughing.  We adopted her yesterday, exactly a year and a half since Luka was born and died.  A perfect gift to remind us of how precious our daughter was and always will be.  I'm hoping that as this year continues, my heart and my soul will not only win the battle over my anxious ridden mind, but I will find balance and continued optimism.  And with all this work and healing, I hope the invisible line will become a positive one, and remain that way for nine months and beyond.

when life catches up to you

I've been at  home sick, and as I slowly get better,  I've realized two things.  My life needs a change, and I still desperately miss Luka.  Life has caught up to me, and in the last month,  my body and my mind, has finally said "enough".  Going back to work two months after Luka died was what felt right at the time.  I needed to keep busy, and I had some great things happen for me professionally last year.  But this year it feels like I am dragging my feet.  It seems like time is trudging along, and nothing ever seems to give.  It's like one obstacle after another, and I wonder if we will reach the other side.  Joy.  It seems so far off and yes, a million people will tell me to find the joy in the small stuff.  And I do.  I laugh and have fun at improv on Friday nights.  My friend Marie, is always a phone call away when I need a good dose of comedy mixed with cynicism.  I went to the Muppets, and remembered the simpleness of Sunday evening, when there was nothing in the world expect Kermit the frog singing the Rainbow Connection.  But I want that joy of anticipation, the joy of waiting for something amazing to happen, the excitement of what lies ahead.  This afternoon, I spent some time looking through the pictures we took of Luka when she was born, her little life and when she died.  I haven't looked at them closely in a long time.  My whole body just wants to hold her again.  I'm still in disbelief that Michael and I created a tiny human being. And I am still in disbelief that I had to let her go. My heart longs for her. There are days when it feels like yesterday and the pain is still as strong. On a positive note, we have an appointment with our first fertility counselor in two weeks, thanks to the amazing genetic doctors at Children's hospital. They referred us and got us an appointment.  I realize some couples wait months to see a fertility expert, so I am ever so grateful for this opportunity.  They reassured us that the problem is not that we are infertile, we just need to find a way to stay pregnant, and carry a healthy baby to term. I'm hoping that this path leads us to what we desire, but in the meantime,  Michael and I have made the commitment to make change in our own lives, whatever that may be.  I also need to start taking care of myself.  I threw myself into my job last year, because it's what got me through.  Now, it's time to start focusing on my mental and physical health. Michael and I talk about our future, and how we will look back at these two years of our lives, and say to ourselves, "Wow, we survived that.. can you believe it!"  I hope that conversation happens.  Maybe it's selfish to think that my life is so hard, when there are so many people going through so many awful things.  But I write this blog, because this is how I feel, in the moment, and it is part of my continual healing process.  I am grateful to all those who read it, and send their loving thoughts.  Thank you for listening to our journey.

disappointment

Another month gone and not pregnant.  The roller coaster of waiting, anticipating, hoping and then pure disappointment. I can't do this anymore.  It has become an obsession and my life is all about conceiving a child.  Yesterday,  Michael and I decided it is time for some investigating about why we're having trouble getting pregnant and staying pregnant.  I'm not sure why we we've been avoiding it, but it's time to meet Dr. Fertility, whomever and whatever that may be.  I'm nervous, because I never wanted to be "that" couple, but we are.  The anxiety every month as we wait for my cycle to reveal a positive pregnancy test, is enough to send us both into a deep depression when it instead comes up negative.  Really, these tests are to torture women who are very aware of their cycles.  We have way too much information these days,  and in a must-know-now society,  early pregnancy tests just perpetuate the instantaneous need to know the moment you are pregnant.  Whoever invented the home pregnancy test must be very wealthy.  So, now we wait for a referral to a fertility specialist, which could take months.  My question, is do we keep trying during that time?  Am I willing to risk the disappointment?   In all of this searching and longing, we also have come to the conclusion that we are in desperate need of some change.  We have never been people to stick around one place for a long period of time.  I'm itching for an adventure.  If it's not going to be a baby adventure, then maybe we need to take a big risk and do something completely out of the ordinary.  Overall, life in the past few months has been disappointment after disappointment.  I am grateful for all my friends, my wonderful home overlooking the valley, and a job that pays the bills.  But something is missing.  Something that makes my heart sing when I wake up in the morning.  I think I deserve that feeling.   Right now I feel like I'm living in the no-thingness, which I know I need to embrace, and allow the energy to flow the way it needs to flow. This too shall pass.  We can't give up hope.  The universe might be providing a challenge, but what it doesn't know is that Michael and I aren't ones to give up.  I will hold my baby in my arms before I am forty.  All I ask is for the universe to keep letting in the glimmer of light, and the strength to believe that it will happen.

we won't forget

Today is International Remembering our Babies day and women and men around the world are thinking and remembering their children they lost, never held, or only held for a short time.  It was a beautiful sunny day, and in tribute to Luka and in her memory, Michael and I went for a walk with Sassy.  The light was golden with a touch of indigo, and to make use of Michael's new iphone, we made a little movie of our adventure with Sassy.  This is how I spent my last few months of pregnancy, walking with a yellow bundle of energy.  Walks with Sassy have been integral in our healing process, and so here is a little taste of the joy she brings us, while surrounded by the natural beauty of our mountain home. 

giving

It's a wet Thanksgiving morning.  The rain has moved in and by the looks of it, it is going to be around for the rest of the week.  Time to start taking my Vitamin D.  I'm about to peel potatoes, and prep the turkey for the oven; getting ready for the big feast we will have tonight.  It's been a busy week, and I am thankful for this extra day off, to do laundry, go to the gym, and relax with my husband.  Michael and I have been getting back on our feet after the miscarriage and leaving it behind us.  Time to move forward.  This week we had a lovely visit with my friend Katie and her husband Jeff.  It had been two years since I saw Katie last, and when Luka died, it was so difficult to not be able to hug her, and spend time with her.  On Thursday evening, over good food and beer for the boys, we shared laughter, memories of old times, and photos of Luka.  It was amazing how raw the emotion was from both Michael and I.   It was wonderful to share the story of our daughter, and the joy and memories she continues to bring us.  Katie is pregnant with her second child, and I was able to feel her belly and feel the baby kick.  It was such a beautiful feeling, and it brought me back to being pregnant with Luka, and the joy I felt as she moved around inside me.  I so want that feeling again.  Lately my conversations with Michael are centered around two things.  The possibility of conceiving again and carrying to term, or beginning the adoption process.  We always end up going back to the strong belief that I will be able to carry a healthy child to term.  During the miscarriage,  I was convinced I wouldn't try again.  It's amazing how you forget, because now my desire to conceive again has deepened.  How much of my body am I willing to give?  Getting pregnant is truly about giving your body to a process that is never guaranteed.  And so many women do it over and over again.  In the last few weeks I have read and heard about women, who have miscarried again and again, and still go on to have healthy children.  I don't know how long I will be able to continue to give, but I have a profound need to succeed, and to fulfill my soul's desire.  Tuesday night is Glee night on television, and last week as the show ended with one of my favourite Coldplay songs, I was moved to tears. A wave of longing came over me.  Longing for Luka, longing to hold her, be with her, and kiss her soft skin.  The whole experience of losing her is still so surreal, and it's completely overwhelming when you don't expect the memories to flood in.  But they do, and then they pass.  Life continues.  And on Thanksgiving day,  I think of all the women who give their body to carry a child.  I think of those who have lost, those that want to give and are not able,  and those who have watched their children grow and become adults. Without women, none of us would be here. I am honoured to have a body that can give and grow life.  I am thankful that I gave my body to grow Luka.  Without her presence in my life,  I would not be the woman I am today.  And I am willing to do it all again, and again.  Because, somewhere in the deepest part of my soul, I believe it will all work out and I will hold a healthy baby in my arms.  I am now going to prepare Thanksgiving dinner, to give thanks for all the wonderfulness life brings, and to thank all the people in my life who give me friendship and bring me joy and laughter.  Happy Thanksgiving!

stormy weather #2

I'm sitting at the computer watching a wind storm blow in across the valley.  The leaves are whirling through the air, and the rain is coming down in buckets.  I miss a good storm.  It rarely happens here, and I always feel so lucky that I get to watch a storm brew from the top of the mountain.  I have had my own storm brewing for the past week.  My emotional state has been completely up and down, and it's been a bit of a tumultuous week.  Now that the miscarriage is over, I've been trying to get back to my normal life, but it hasn't been as easy as I thought it would.  School has been challenging.  I have great students, but teaching a split has provided me with some interesting experiences, and I am trying to sort it all out.  There were many days this week where I left school feeling incompetent, and not sure if I could make it through the week.  My thirty-seventh birthday was on Wednesday, and I was glad to welcome a new year, but am really beginning to feel the ticking of the clock.  I know I'm not old, but in the world of fertility, I am the dreaded over thirty-five, approaching forty.  There are pregnancy books specifically written for getting pregnant and being pregnant if you are over the thirty-five mark.  It's so degrading and discouraging.  There are so many women my age having babies, but it seems like we are looked upon by the medical world as "risk-takers," because of our age.  This week, Michael and I have started opening our hearts and conversations to the next step in this crazy journey.  I want to believe that I still can become pregnant and carry a baby to term.  But, there is the underlying fear that it won't ever happen.  And so I fluctuate between exploring adoption, versus trying again. It is constantly cycling through my thoughts.  And then today, as I stood in the checkout counter as Superstore, a young baby began to cry. I don't know where it was coming from, but it continued, and it was almost as if the whole world went into silent movie mode, because all I could focus on was the crying of the baby.  It was the tiniest cry, but it filled the room, and I was taken right back to hearing Luka cry in the hospital.  I watched as a woman rounded the corner of the canned vegetable aisle, and the crying grew louder.  I just wanted to pick up the baby, and comfort it.  I remember holding Luka, as she cried, knowing that she was hungry and I couldn't feed her, because she was too weak to suck, and my milk wasn't producing.  As I tried not to sob in my line up, I watched the woman pick up her child, and the crying immediately stopped.  Suddenly, I was brought back into the world of Superstore, the beeping of the checkout counter, the buzz of activity, and I began to place my items on the conveyor belt.  Life goes on.  However, in that moment, I understood how deep my desire is to be a mother.  I'm not sure when or how it will happen, but as I drove up the mountain, I made the decision to persevere, and I won't let my age stop me.  I will hold a child in my arms before I am forty.  I will.  The wind has calmed down outside and the sun shone for a moment and created a beautiful rainbow in the valley.  Storms never last, and I know that next week is a new week.  Like the storm, this too shall pass, and somewhere in this journey there will be a rainbow, with a pot of gold, just for me.