Shopping Buddy

We just returned from Target, where Evie had me in stitches:

M: That's a cute sweater.

E: Oooooh! Try it on!

M: (laughing) Ok!

E: BUY IT!!!! BUY IT!!!

Matt is in trouble!


And now for a picture dump:

the proud artist

Not so sure about riding solo...

This entourage accompanies us wherever we go. She can NOT leave the house without that pumpkin purse! 

Cutest mad face ever.

The corn pit at Hill Ridge Farms was a HUGE hit. She was laughing the whole time...

...until it was time to get out.

bad news.

This will be my first blog entry in which I'll find it very difficult not to curse. Those words just feel the most fitting right now. 

We had our first monitoring appointment yesterday and it didn't go well, to say the least. I had been really excited about it because my belly felt so full--a great sign! I'd endured several nights of shots that I'd given to myself (my personal nightmare, for those who are unaware of my former phobia of needles), and now came the fun part. It would be our first indication of how the rest of the cycle would go. So the ultrasound began and the only thing visible on the screen looked like a large black mass. Where we should have seen lots of little follicles, there was just a giant void. Oh ovaries, aren't you clever with your perfect little metaphors. Turns out that instead of having lots of small to medium sized follicles as we would have expected, I had one mega follicle. Not good. In IVF, there are a whole series of hurdles you have to overcome and I busted on the first one. The cycle was cancelled. I was really upset about that, but it got worse. As my doctor later explained, my body's response was indicative of ovarian dysfunction, diminished ovarian reserve, and poor egg quality. Something we've suspected, but this sealed the deal. I've continued to whittle down my status until I've found myself in the most elite class of infertile women. That accomplishment doesn't feel as good as you might imagine. I'm crushed and feeling completely disheartened. 

I don't know what we're going to do going forward and I need to know. I don't do well in limbo. My doctor says he wants to wait to see how this cycle plays out before deciding next steps, but that's not going to work for my sanity. Yesterday he told me that I can convert to either an IUI or timed intercourse for now. My response was, "it doesn't matter what we do, it's not going to work." I guess he thought I was joking because he laughed, but it's true. Tomorrow we have an IUI scheduled, but I'm just going through the steps. I need to know what comes after that. If the odds for conceiving with my new diagnosis are as bad as I'm anticipating, maybe it's time to throw in the towel. It would be heartbreaking for me to give up on something I want so desperately, but I just can't keep doing this. Physically, emotionally, and financially, we can't afford to keep going if the odds aren't in our favor. How bitterly disappointing this process can be.

Yesterday someone told me, "it's not like you've lost something; you just haven't gained anything." I think it must be an impossible concept to grasp unless you've personally faced the inability to have children, but it reminded me of a quote from Laura Bush that really spoke to me:

The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I’m sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?

portrait of deep gratitude

We have Evie, and words can't express how thankful I am to have that little girl. I am profoundly grateful for her and that has carried me through some really difficult times. Separately, I would love to have more, but obviously I will shift that focus if need be. Figuring that out is our next hurdle. 

Preschool Update

Monday and Thursday mornings are hard. Really hard. I know Evie will adjust to school eventually, but in the meantime, it's been rough.

Evie's first day of school went about as expected. She was a ball of nerves all morning, but hid it well until we made real moves to leave the house. Then the pleading and crying began. As we walked into the school doors, we overheard her reassure her Minnie doll with, "It's ok, Mittie. Don't be scared." I had a lump in my throat, but was determined not to show emotion because I knew that would make it even harder for Evie. Incidentally, I'm not very good at following my own orders. When we got to the doors and she began sobbing, I began to cry too.

I headed off to Burt's, never so thankful to be taking on a project in risk of missing its deadline. The frantic pace was a great distraction. When it was finally time to pick her up, my heart sank at the teacher's report: "It was a rough day. Evie hid a lot and cried off and on all day. She was too upset to eat lunch and hid under the table while everyone else ate." Evie's report was similiar: "I was newvous, not happy. I don't yike it. It was too youd (loud). I missed Mama!" She's been requesting the video I made for her first birthday pretty much constantly. "Mama, can we watch me when I was a yittle, yittle, yittle baby again?" It's fascinating to me that a 2 year old can be nostalgic.

Thankfully, the reports have been slightly more positive each time, with Evie enjoying crafts and music class, though she will completely deny this when it's time to get in the car to start another school day. The mornings haven't gotten any less heartbreaking, so hopefully that will also improve with time.


Tomorrow is a big day. I have my baseline ultrasound to begin IVF and if everything goes as expected, I'll start injections tomorrow night! Then if everything goes smoothly, I'll have my egg retrieval in a couple of weeks. Absolutely crazy. Matt and I have been putting a lot of thought into the embryo transfer and have decided that if we are lucky enough to have high-quality embryos, we'll only transfer one. It reduces our chance of success from 70% to 55%, but we also wouldn't have to worry about the risks that come with twins. It's a really difficult decision to make, but hopefully it's the right one.

Oh! And you guys are really good at praying and sending happy thoughts! The day after I posted my last blog, Matt told me that his trial was postponed until January! What a huge relief.

Here are a few Evie quotes that made me laugh:

Matt and I were talking about doormats and where we should get a new one and Evie cleverly points out that, "We don't have a doormat! We have a Man-Matt!" Good one, Eves!

Staring in the potty: "Mama, poo poo and pee pee are BWEST FWIENDS!"

After seeing a Christmas tree in the background of 101 Dalmatians: "MAMA! IT'S CHRISTMASTIME! WE GOT TO PACK UP AND GO TO CHRISTMAS! COME ON!" That was about a week ago and she's still randomly saying that we need to pack up and go to Christmas because it's, "far, far, faaaaar away." Let's go!

My parents' cat Emmy was put down last week at age 22. Even though this cat was not at all loving to Evie and basically just slept all day, Evie loved her and would talk about her pretty much constantly. I tried my best to explain to her about death and heaven, but I could tell that the concept was too big for Evie to grasp. Yesterday she asked again where Emmy was and I went in to the spiel and when I was done, Evie said, "Yeah. Emmy was really die-ey."