How to get the WAND in 30 minutes or less... a tutorial

What is the WAND?
A hint...there is nothing twinkly about this wand. It doesn't light up or glow with happiest place on earth cheer. Although it might be made in China... Still unsure? Bibbity-Bobbity-Boo? No. How about ... I'll get you my pretty, and your Big Girl Va Jay Jay, too!

If you are still clueless about the WAND, JCK would like to educate you. Having left WAND virginity long ago, in a land far, far away, JCK has been WANDED more times than the average gal.

The WAND is a tool. A long, unbending object that aims to go where you would rather it didn't. Lest one be wary of contracting an anti-social disease, a condom is used. There is nothing life-like about this WAND. It is made of hard, solid, plastic, and is attached to a machine by a dangling wire. Can JCK hear an...**ooohhh****ooohhh?

Why would one get the wand?
Aside from "just for kicks," the WAND can be used during infertility treatments to gauge the growth and size of follicles (containing eggs) that occur after a rather large amount of hormones. This use of the WAND would be in the category of hope and excitement. As JCK knows well, if a miracle baby is at the other end, it is worth the WANDING. However, the WAND can also be used for other purposes. Say....for detecting fibroids or cysts. Fun stuff like that.

JCK believes in spreading the good news. So, JCK will take you through her experience. It is a story that is up close and personal. Otherwise known as getting the WAND.

The Dress Code:
Oh, golly, gee...what to wear? Of course it is up to you, but JCK prefers jeans over dresses for this type of experience. By the time you leave, you'll have had enough of a Wow Nelly! breeze across your buttocks, and won't feel like being free and easy below the waist. Running shoes are best for a quick exit when done.

The Prep:
You will be given instructions. Undress from the waist down, and put the "robe" on with the opening in the front. Open. In. The. Front. They do not exaggerate. The robe in question is still open in the front, after you tie the strings. In fact, it cannot attract more wind gusts than if your robe were... a sail. Indeed.
And, inevitably there is always that friendly sailor just outside the dressing room, so smile.

The Wanding:
You will be ushered into an understated room in shades of gray and pale gray. You will be asked to climb up on a cot with wheels, otherwise known as a stretcher. After the technician places a small sheet across your upright knees for modesty, otherwise known as WHY BOTHER?, you will be asked to lift your fanny to the sky so that she can place a rolled towel underneath your hips. This enables your nether regions to better salute the ceiling.

The Incorrect Way:
It is after you are in this comfortable position that you must pay attention, for the wand descends between your legs and halts at the entrance. It is most important to note that the WAND be at the correct entry point, for a lubricated WAND can go into a myriad of dark, happy homes. Yes. It. Can.

Excuse Me! You are entering my bottom!.... is a possible scenario.

Er...OOPs... So sorry... says the technician with 10 years of work experience wielding the WAND.

Hahahaha...Nervous laughter ensues.

Hark! Do not miss this opportunity for a mutual chuckle over the wandering, wayward WAND.

The Correct Way:
Once the WAND has the correct entrée, your technician will say, "Now, you will feel a little pressure.

It's not too bad, you convince yourself.

The word RAMROD comes to mind.

It is good to keep breathing. Perhaps you can reflect on what an amazing thing the vaginal canal is... So accommodating to a variety of ...WANDS.

Then, if you are lucky, the technician brings you back by saying, O.K. we're done. You will feel a little pressure as I take this out.

Again with the pressure! Oy!

Always ready to help, you will show off all of your hard work practicing your Kegel exercises. Finally they have a purpose! So, you help eject the WAND by the force of your own vagina.

The After:
All is well. It is over! You can shuffle to the bathroom, where you will discover that the WAND's lubricant has been applied with, perhaps...a spatula? Indeed, you wonder how much lubricant was utilized. You contribute to the downfall of the planet, by believing more is better when it comes to toilet tissue. Twenty minutes later you emerge. Somewhat drier.

You collect your clothes from the locker. You dress, throwing your clothes back on with careless abandon. You walk out through the waiting room, hoping it is just you who hears a SQUOOSH, SQUOOSH sound every time your legs separate to take a step. You make it to the elevator, sharing a ride with a variety of characters. All of whom do not look happy. Perhaps not a good time to shout:

How can they call it a WAND?!! Where's the magic? The glitter dust?

It is not a shared moment. Vacant stares. A quick exit to the street.

Aftercare Instructions:
You will go home and put a sign around your waist for your husband's benefit.

All openings have been filled. No WANDS need apply.



JCK hopes that this tutorial has been helpful.






******
It is to be noted that JCK is fine. There are no burgeoning eggs, nor things to worry about. All is well.

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EXHALE...an online literary magazine for women dealing with infertility, miscarriage, and infant death

Several years ago, when I was struggling with infertility, I felt incredibly alone. I didn't know anyone else who was having any difficulty getting pregnant. In fact, everywhere I turned it seemed that another friend or family member was pregnant...AGAIN. I dreaded invitations to baby showers, and felt guilty that my happiness for them was clouded by my unhappiness for myself. It was complicated...and even my husband, E, who is a very sensitive man, could not truly understand all of the assorted emotions that I was going through. Let alone the emotions brought out by the fertility drugs.

Last week I was contacted by the editor of a new online magazine called Exhale.

Exhale is a unique new literary magazine written for & by ordinary people who have faced extraordinary obstacles to getting/staying knocked up, or who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant death. Exhale is published solely online.

Exhale is a space for creative expression. We seek out the gritty humor and complexities of discovering that producing a child isn't as easy as your mother told you. Without succumbing to the belief that a person's self-worth and happiness are defined reproductive achievement, we recognize and validate the vast array of perspectives and emotions associated with pregnancy/infant loss and infertility issues.

The Editor, Monica M. LeMoine, had come across my artwork during an online search, and discovered a blog post in which I talked about how the act of painting had helped me during a very painful period of infertility. She asked to use one of my paintings for the cover of her magazine. I went online to Exhale's site and couldn't stop reading. It is a very impressive magazine, with top notch writers, and professionally laid out.

Then, there was a quick email exchange in which I said...Thank you very much, I'd love to be a part of this, but... are you sure you want to use one of MY paintings?! She did. And, so I am very honored to be a part of the current issue. Once you visit, you will be drawn in. It is an invaluable resource for women struggling with infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant death. If you know anyone on this difficult, lonely journey, please send them to Exhale. You will be glad that you did.

To see more of my paintings, please go here.

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Painting was a way that I could express the pain over my infertility

I come from a long line of artists. Painters, on my mother's side. My grandfather was an artist, as was his mother, and two of his daughters - my aunts. (My cousin, Charles Reid, drew the header for my blog above. Pen & ink first, and then he added color and digitized it.) Although my mother is not an artist, she has a gift of perceiving skin tones and seeing the nuances and variances in color. There is no blue, green, red or orange. She sees magenta and crimson...scarlet lake and blue geranium. My sister has inherited the family gift. Her eldest son appears to have the gift as well, which brings it to 5 generations. That I know of.

At a young age I realized I didn't have the family gift. Not only did I not have the family gift, but it appeared that I was much less gifted than the average student in art class. There was something about looking at an object and drawing it that I couldn't manage. Here is a bowl of fruit, here is a vase, here is... Art was intimidating. Daunting. The family gift was not dropped off at my door. Although my mom always embraced whatever I did. She was a supportive mom.

Nine years ago, after being married to my husband E for a few years, we appeared to be infertile. Thus began a cycle of hormone shots, inseminations, and then moving on to IVF (in vitro fertilization.) It was a gut wrenching process and every month my cycle continued to come with a vengeance.

One day, out of the blue, I felt driven to go into an art supply store. I chose a handful of acrylics, some paint thinner, brushes, and a large pad of canvas paper. At the time, we were living in a tiny guest house on the west side of Los Angeles. I set up a make shift easel with a piece of plywood, and I used clothes pins to hold the paper in place. When my brush first splashed color across the paper it felt right. I found myself wanting to paint often. And when I did paint, I lost myself... Coming back to earth 2 or 3 hours later.

Painting became a way that I could express the pain over my infertility. And, where I could escape from it all...

Soon a theme emerged. Having never been able to paint or draw anything that was recognizable, it appeared that I could do it! I could paint... vaginas. Quite ironic, really.

This shows the utter emptiness of the interior... Unending. Forever barren.


In this painting, there is so much pain that the edges of the torso and legs have burst into flames. The blood reflects the loss of hope. The amount of blood symbolizing the many cycles that have gone before.

Below is a painting in which my chaotic thoughts poured forth... You have an image of an angel in the bottom left, symbolizing hope. Then above the angel, an embryo in a pure womb. Lots of blood. Breasts showing the feminine form, with the black hand prints of darkness making their mark.

I'm not sure when, in my cathartic painting phase, I did this painting or the one at the top in pinks and golds, but I like them. Their colors speak to me, still.


I painted for about six months. Suddenly, my need to paint just...stopped. I've never shared these paintings with my family.

It was to be four more years before I became a mother.

Looking at these paintings, touching them, feeling the layers of paint beneath my fingers, I miss it. Perhaps I'll paint again. Thank you Memarie Lane for your curiosity about my painting.


****Note: It's NaBloPoMo, what would you like me to write about?

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Because that is the art of blogging...

I've been struggling since I've been back from the BlogHer conference. Struggling to find words, to put coherent thoughts into sentences. My rhythm has been interrupted by ...questions.

Do I want my blog to have a focus?

Can I write posts in 300 words or less?

These bullet points were raised in one of the sessions, and I'm having difficulty with both of these things. I'm finding my head rearing back and a snarky voice saying, that's NOT me! I don't want to do that. Fuck that! These are both valid ideas/concepts in building readership and I see the point, but I like the feeling on my blog right now. It's not for everyone and it won't ever be. And, that's OK. Truthfully, I'm really writing for me. And if I start to write with these goals that are not mine, I'll feel hemmed in and trapped, and God forbid...pandering.

I love having readers. Who doesn't? But, I'm not going to go after them by writing what I think other people will like. If there is to be any art in my writing at all, it has to be somewhat free form - a platform on which to grow, stretch... and make mistakes. A place where I can be in turns - raunchy and temperate. Some days expressing my feminist perspective, some days speaking as a mom, and some days just writing about what kicks up my skirt. That is what blogging is for me.

Here is where I get to pull out all my paint tubes and smear them on the canvas. Perhaps it's as simple as finger painting or splatter art one day, and then if I'm lucky enough- soaring in a sculpture of words with my muse. I've had a few of those moments and hope to have more. For today, I'm going to have to give myself a lot of rope, because then I can swing from it, jump over it or use it as a noose. It all works. Because that is the art of blogging...



***Painting titled: Infertile by JCK

Circa 1999

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I used to hate Mother's Day

I used to hate Mother's Day. Hated it! Always....IT seemed to arrive during a period when I was most vulnerable. Another failed IVF. Another negative pregnancy test. Another dream shattered. Another friend or family member pregnant. The hope slipping away...

No one GOT it. Except other women going through what I was living on a daily basis. Other women who wanted to be a mother more than anything and whose destiny appeared to be barren. Infertile. Unable to conceive. My happiness for the other mothers in my life was there, but muted by what I didn't have. It was a separate piece. They were "the have's." I was a "have not." My capacity for loving my nieces and nephew was enormous. Yet, the cavernous place that housed my sorrow over not having my own children seemed endless and all encompassing.

I sit here now, writing this, watching GIRL & BOY outside riding their tricycles. Their little legs whipping around the pedals; their toys strewn on the driveway. I get up having to intercede on yet another argument. It is annoying and aggravating to hear their bickering. Yet, I get to hear it. They are my children. I. AM. A. MOTHER.

I'm thinking of BOY's birthmother. We haven't heard from her in a while and she's most especially on my mind today. She chose us to be BOY's parents, his forever family. She trusted that we would be able to do it. She loved him enough to want a better life for him than what she could provide. She was truly selfless. She did a mothering act. This loving deed helped to create our family and I will never forget that. Ever.

Things are different now. I treasure Mother's Day. The commercialism doesn't bother me. That feels other - at a distance from the pure joy in embracing this day. Sure, there are many times throughout the year that I can acknowledge being a mother. But, Mother's Day is a chance for me to stop, to reflect, and to celebrate the day. I don't know that I will ever take Mother's Day for granted. Or ever forget my first Mother's Day. The words, "Happy Mother's Day!" The calls. The cards. A sense of belonging to a club I had long coveted. One moment captured in a photograph, holding 6 month old BOY on my hip, the swell of my belly pregnant with GIRL visible front and center. There is a radiance about the picture. I can almost reach out and touch it - the happiness on that day.

Today, I want to celebrate Motherhood in all its forms. To the women who are struggling with infertility and yearning to become mothers. To the single mothers who day in and day out struggle to make it work, and do, with grace and strength. To the men who lovingly mother their children. To the many women who have chosen a different path, that of being child-free. And to the ones who haven't chosen, I wish you hope and ...peace. Mothering comes in many forms. And I am confident that all of us - whether mothers of children or not, each of us, can and do nurture lives on a daily basis. We are all Mothers of a sort. And it is important to honor that.

Happy Mother's Day!


**Photo Credit: The Sculpture Gallery

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NaBloPoMo - Day 30- the unexpected gifts in life are the best of all...

GIRL made her appearance on a September evening in 2004. She was 10 days late. I pushed her out in 12 1/2 minutes. It was the day after my 43rd birthday. I missed having two children at 42 years old by 1 day. Our children are 9 months and 27 days apart. We like to round it up to 10 months so that it seems a little saner.

I was always scared of having a GIRL. Yet this GIRL has toppled me over. I adore her and struggle with her. She is her mother's daughter with a good mix of daddy's genes thrown in. Most of all, she is her own little person. She and BOY are everything to me. I am so very blessed.

We like to say that BOY brought GIRL to us. He wanted a little sister and he got one. We have been through quite a journey to become the family that we are today. I don't regret a moment of it. Well, maybe the Clomid! But, not really. I know in my soul that we were meant to traverse this path. That our GIRL would never have been born if not for BOY. And if our infertility treatments hadn't failed, we would never have had BOY & GIRL. And that is unimaginable. They are our life. Our greatest blessing and our biggest challenge.

BOY started walking when GIRL came home from the hospital! It was a bit nutty. Imagine trying to breastfeed and your other child is ricocheting off the furniture. You put the baby GIRL down and race over to rescue your little BOY, who needs you. He is not yet one year old. Then GIRL shrieks because of course she needs you. She is a newborn. You pick up BOY and race back to pick up GIRL. You wonder at your ability to cope. GOD must think you are a Wonder Woman. He must have gotten confused with that singing telegram costume you used to wear - the one with the leopard print and the whip. That wasn't Wonder Woman. That was ...something else. And so the race began...the first 2 years somewhat of a blur, yet we paused often for noting our great gifts. Our children.

We still maintain regular contact with BOY's birthmother. We've only seen her a few times since BOY has been born, but she has given us so much. And is our biggest cheerleader. She has taught us grace and courage. And we thank every day that she chose us to be BOY's parents- Forever. Sometimes E and I both forget that I didn't give birth to him. It is not any reflection on her, but just what happens when you love your children beyond what you could ever imagine. And the journey continues...

And so, my friends, that is the story of how we became a family. Thank you so much for sticking with me and reading along. I have so enjoyed your comments along the way. Our GIRL turned 3 in September and BOY turned 4 last week. They are the best of friends and have so much fun together, being so close in age. Every day is different, other than the continuum of feeling just a little insane. But, I look forward to the adventures ahead and know that there will be many. The unexpected gifts in life are the best of all...

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NaBloPoMo - Day 29- You are FRIGGIN' kidding me!!!

Late January 2004
BOY is doing great! It's been a couple of weeks since his cleft lip surgery. He sailed through it. The hardest part was handing him to the nurse and watching her walk away ...down the hall, holding our BOY and hearing him screaming for us. The surgery took several hours. When it was done, the nurse came and got us and we were in the recovery room just as he was waking up. He was thrashing around, confused with all the wires and tubes attached to him. I had a bottle handy and he guzzled it per his usual style. The surgeon told us that they used to do tube feeding and not let the babies use their bottles or nurse right away, but they found that the stress on the baby and the crying was far worse on the healing process. The first night was hard. He was really hurting. And the pain medication seemed to bother him. But, after that it has been fine. The surgeon saw him last week and may want to do another surgery as the lip is pulling up a bit. We think he looks perfect. But, then we did before the surgery. He is our little treasure. Our long awaited child. Our miracle.

I am so...exhausted. I'm up with BOY every 2-3 hours, joyfully for the most part, but I feel tired much of the day. I'm sure it is the combination of having a newborn and also the stress of his having to go through surgery at 7 weeks old. Our birthmother, T, signed the final papers yesterday! The birthfather signed his papers a couple of weeks ago. We only await the court finalization in 6 months, but it is done. We are the legal parents of this amazing, adorable and lovable baby. But, most importantly, he became a child of our heart the night he was born and placed in our arms. We are his forever family.

A few days later

O.K., this seems totally insane, but I think I missed my period in December and this month, too. I've been so focused on taking care of BOY that I've been oblivious to my own body. And my boobs are KILLING me. This is ridiculous. I am not EVEN thinking that I might be pregnant. That would just be ...well, besides impossible, it would be just...well, impossible. ....

I am NOT going to go to the drug store and spend $15 on one of those pregnancy tests! Dammit. I've spent enough on those stupid tests over the years. This is just me being overtired, taking care of a newborn...

My period has never been this late. Oh, for the love of GOD, I guess I have to go get one of those tests. This is laughable. I have a 9 week old infant and I'm going to the drugstore to get a pregnancy test.

So, I have the pregnancy test. I feel like an idiot. An overtired, vividly imaginative and ...did I say overtired and sleep deprived? insane woman.

I guess I should take the test. E's on the computer in the office. BOY's asleep. Now is as good a time as any. It is certainly not going to turn pink. There is NO way that I'm pregnant. Well, we did have that spectacular night...mmmm, well, I guess it is possible. For another woman. In another life.

I peed on the stick. I'll check on it in 5 minutes. HOLY SH*T! It is turning F*cking PINK!!! Forget 5 minutes!!! You are FRIGGIN' kidding me!!! Sweet mother of GOD! Bollocks! Crap! F*CK! I've got to go show this to E. Maybe it isn't pink? Maybe I'm just so tired that my eyes are deceiving me.

I walk into our office.

E, can you look at this, please? Is this PINK?? I hand him the pregnancy test. It is friggin' screaming PINK.

Yes, it is pink, he says. It is pink.

He looks at me like a deer caught in the headlights...

To be continued...

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NaBloPoMo - Day 8 - RRRIIIINNNGGG, the timer of failed infertility treatments

December 2002

I'm often asked by friends who are still on the infertility treatment roller coaster how I stopped. How I got off the ride. I don't think there is a simple answer. I wish there were. It would be nice if you could just pull a switch. If there was a magic number of treatments and if you didn't "succeed" in getting pregnant you would hear a RRRRIIIINNNGGGG!! and know you're done. The TIMER OF FAILED INFERTILITY TREATMENTS we could call it. See, I'm not completely healed. I'm shouting in blog speak.

There wasn't one turning point for me. Although before the last IVF cycle E and I had talked and decided that it would be our last hurrah, [God, that actually sounds like something fun], it had been building for a while. A series of small deaths along the way. The little deaths. Those tiny embryos full of hope - fragmented, cracked. Would it have been different if we had had perfect grade A, no fragmentation 4STAR embryos? Maybe. As I've said before, you start out small -baby steps and before you know it time has passed and you're going under general anesthesia and having eggs extracted from your ovaries. And the Science is so amazing and the fertility clinics are hopping with hope. And you see the happy couples everywhere. Or the illusion of them.

The time that I took to just live and breathe and not be an infertility patient was a life saver. I devoured books on everything from loss to adoption to living child-free, with some good trashy novels thrown in. E said that he really needed the time and I feel very blessed that he did. It gave me the time to really think about what I wanted. Was it more important for me to have a biological child than to not have a child? And it is not. I feel that my life will not be complete until I become a mother. I have so much love to give and the beauty of adoption is that it may take a while, a long while, for your baby to come to you...but, your baby will come to you. And I'm going to be a mother. And that is a wondrous feeling. After all the almosts, I'm ready for the finale.

To be continued...

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NaBloPoMo - Day 7 - there will be a baby at the end of this story, by GOD

October 2002

So...here we are celebrating our 7th anniversary and instead of the 7 year itch, we are going to embark on new territory. We are going to become parents! WhooHOOO!! Yes, it is true. We have decided to adopt. I am terrified! And ecstatic! All at the same time. We just finished a weekend intensive workshop on open adoption at the adoption agency that we chose. There is SO much to do. We have to fill out a list of forms about a foot long, have physicals, letters of reference to our character, have our home inspected, meet with a social worker and answer very personal questions on parenting, have our income verified, write our autobiographies, get finger printed for a criminal background check, and plunk down money. Oh, and minor detail...write a Dear Birthmother letter that will stand out from the 250 letters from the other waiting families that are also registered with our agency. No problem! Normally, I would be highly offended by the fact that not only have I had to go through multiple infertility treatments with my legs spread-eagled and my body a scientific experiment - a.k.a., a human pin cushion with anger issues and hot flashes, but now we have to PROVE ourselves. Now that we are embarking on adoption, we have to "prove" that we will be fit parents. So, I could be very angry about that. But.... I am NOT because... I am just so DAMN happy that finally, finally I will at the end of this road become a mommy. It may take a year, maybe longer. But, it WILL happen. There will be a baby at the end of this story, by GOD. There will. AMEN. HALLELUJAH.

To be continued....

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NaBloPoMo - Day 5 - hope, reassurance and possibility

February 2002

The metal chair felt really cold and hard, or maybe it was just because I was so nervous. And excited. I grabbed E's hand, always SO warm. We were here! I looked around at all the other people in the room. Most were couples, but there were 2 single women. So many of us wanting to become parents. So many wanting a baby. On the wall were photo collages of happy families. All kinds of families. It was one of the things that had attracted me to this agency rather than the others, when I had attended the RESOLVE conference back in September. The openness. And the hope. It was a good thing as the energy wafting off all of us was desperate for hope, reassurance and possibility. Suddenly the nervous chatter died away as the facilitator walked into the room and over to the white board. And she wrote:

Myths About Open Adoption

To be continued...

Note: this week is National Infertility Awareness Week

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NaBloPoMo - Day 4 - ramblings on a winter's eve

January 5, 2002

It has been more than six months, yet we don't have any concrete answers. I have imagined myself living child-free. But, it is like a shoe that doesn't fit. It rubs and chafes and gives me blisters.

Today is the first afternoon in a very long time that I've enjoyed. I'm pretty relaxed considering the ping ball machine I call my emotions over the last year. Now I sit outside on the patio, inhaling the scent of the freshly mown grass - the last few minutes of daylight lingering here. I wish it could last longer - yet nothing lasts. Except the yearning for a child. When I am in the throes of this - when I am not incapacitated by a migraine, when I actually can think in a clear, concise way - I can imagine that this too shall pass, or shift or change. I am tired - look in the mirror and shrink from my reflection in the glass. Could this be me? Fine lines caress my face and the silver in my hair ravages across my scalp.

So, I sit here and try to cling to the surety that I have a place in this chaotic world in which to take up space. That I can sip my glass of red wine - Beringer, Vintners Reserve? 1999 - No, Founders Reserve - whatever the hell that means. Our dogs, sit here with me. All of us savoring the last dregs of daylight - before the onslaught of darkness and cold. It is winter, yet a heat wave has descended over the last few days. Life feels calm in this moment, except for occasional background sounds - a cacophony, love that word - of barks from the dogs next door.

I need to start exploring who I am now. Not who I could have been or who I could be if only this were to happen... but, who. I. am. now. ... And so my thoughts ramble on .... I get dizzy with my own yearnings and dreams. What is it that I want? Truly I want to quit my job - to be able to make a home and write and paint... and be a mother. Somehow. Part of me is very frightened at the thought of my becoming a mother. Will I be able to handle it? Will I do it well? Do I really know what I am getting into? I am sure not. Does anyone know what they are getting into? This is life - a journey, full of twists and turns and shocking surprises - some good, some bad.

People who always want more are never the happy ones. They're always looking ahead - for something better to come along. The truly happy people, satisfied people, blessed people are the ones who look around and love what they have. They laugh a lot, without holding back. They dance - they rejoice in the moment. The moment is now. Grab life with both hands! Hold on honey, the ride is gonna be bumpy. The moment is here if you see it. But, you have to see it and you have to act upon it. Facile words, yet I continue to muddle through.

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NaBloPoMo - Day 3 - Which way do we go?

July 8, 2001
It's been a month and I feel a little less battered. It seems that there are happy pregnant women everywhere and some of them are my friends. I hate the fact that I can't be 100% joyful for them. It's not that I don't feel happy for them, but each encounter, each baby shower seems to break my heart into yet another piece. And who can I talk about it with? Would that be fair to dampen their joy? To turn it around to be about me? No, it would not.

It's not that people don't care. They just have no idea what to say. My step-mother told me that I could create a life with children in other ways, that she had not had a child, but had found satisfaction in working with children. But, that is not MY path!!! - I wanted to scream. Her comment made me angry and it felt insensitive. But, that is what she knows and I think she was trying, in her way, to help me.

So, I feel very alone with it all. It is complicated. It is unbelievable that my heart can still keep breaking, but it can. And it is so hard not to wallow in a self-pity party. I feel isolated right now, as I don't know anyone else going through this. The wonderful women I met on Babycenter 2 years ago, our "Club Meds Group," all 12 of them are now pregnant or have become mothers. Except for one other woman and myself. 10/12 succeeded. They've been amazing, yet they don't know what to say.

I never though that I would go as far as IVF. You start out with a small pill called Clomid, that turns you into a lunatic and before you know it your husband is jabbing you in the ass with needles. You find yourself taking bigger and bigger steps until suddenly you are there. And then when it all falls apart, when all of the shots, and the monitoring, and the driving an hour each way to the clinic, and the praying doesn't end up with a pregnancy - you wonder how you ever got here. We told ourselves that it was worth spending all the money - just to have a precious baby in our arms. Now we have the debt, yet the debt in our hearts is much greater. Was it worth it?

As I come up for air, I am feeling just the slightest tickle of hope. It feels good not to be going through treatment. It feels good to make love just for that reason, although we gave up on getting pregnant on our own long ago. I am beginning to feel human again. Sad, but human. And with the little bit of hope is the feeling that I will find some peace with all of this.

E and I have agreed to take an official break for six months on discussing where we go from here. We are giving ourselves time to feel things out. Do we pursue adoption? Do we remain child-free, but make peace with that and have a fabulous life together without children? Time will give us the answer. But, since I am a woman and he is a man...our reference for time is quite different. So, while he continues to put the mourning behind him and live life now, I am going to start gathering information on adoption and read a book that was recommended to me on choosing to be child-free after infertility. I'm not sure which path we'll choose, but hopefully that will show itself to us. Meanwhile, I'm trying to just take it one day at a time.

To be continued....

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NaBloPoMo - Day 2 - the end of the IVF road

June 2, 2001

I'm so sorry, said Dr. B. So very sorry. Small words carrying heavy weight. We can try again, when you are ready, he said. Ready? If that was all it took, I would have been pregnant months and months ago. After I hung up the phone I sat still, unable to move. Then I got up and looked in the extra bedroom. The extra bedroom, perfect for a nursery, in the house we had bought to have a family in. It stood empty, mocking me. As if an automaton, I picked up the phone and called E. And sobbed. No baby once again. After 5 IUIs, 3 fresh cycle IVFs and 2 frozen, it was over. Although I had told E that I wasn't sure I could stop, now I knew that I could. That I had to find some peace. That I couldn't continue to put myself through a procedure that in the end, made me feel like a guinea pig and as far from being a mother as I could possibly feel. Time to regroup. Time to just stop thinking and breathing and living wanting to get pregnant. Like every single one of our precious, fragile embryos I was fragmented, cracked, and my hope had withered. Gone.

We both needed time to heal. I knew that E was in pain and I couldn't comfort him. There was nothing in me left. It was time to start living again. To rejoice in what we had. Yet, all I could focus on was what we didn't have.

To be continued...

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NaBloPoMo - Day 1 - excerpts from an infertility journal

Today is the 1st day of NaBloPoMo. The challenge is to post every day for the month of November. I've been doing a lot of thinking about what I will do. Should I just do the same 'ol, same 'ol or should I attempt something a little different? I'm often asked how is it that we have children so close in age. I would like to tell the story of how we became a family. I hope you'll stay along for the ride. So, this is the story of how we ended up with a BOY & a GIRL 10 months apart.

Excerpts from an infertility journal

May 19, 2001

My darling, dearest 9 embryos. You are each so precious. I love you all. Please be little fighters. E and I welcome you with open arms. Fight embryos - fight to survive. Are you the precious little soul that has been wandering around looking for your parents? We welcome you. I am ready to put you in my womb. It is up to each of you to divide and progress as best you can. God, please help our little guys. Divide, divide, divide... Your little souls need not wander any longer. I welcome you to my side. 9 little embryos. My dear sweet little miracles. I treasure you. I am imagining you dividing beautifully. I imagine you 2 celled, then 4 celled, then 6, then 8, 10 and 12. I imagine you in your round perfect circles of cells. Each cell meeting each other. Each embryo growing into a precious one. I can imagine you, baby from my embryos. I snuggle you. I smell your baby smell. No obstructions, nothing to prevent you from growing into your glorious selves. 12 celled blastocysts circling in my womb - finding that special place. This is a new beginning. A time for change.

May 20, 2001

We have 6 fighters now. 6 sweet little embies. I imagine your fighting spirits, your little souls wanting to come into my uterus. Your father and I welcome you. Don't let the little fragmentation deter you - continue to divide. You six are meant to be inside of me. When Mitch called with the good news of all of you - I dropped to my knees and sobbed and thanked God for each and every one of you. I know that you are here because of our prayers - the prayers of all of our family and dear, dear friends. This is the time. It is meant to be. I imagine becoming a mother. I imagine you growing inside of me. Each of you is so cherished. Let the fragmentation stay on the outside. Let it not increase. I pray for each of you to be golden and beautiful. And your daddy and I want you so, so much. More than anything in this world. I long to be your mother. To be pregnant with you. My lining is ripe for your implantation. I imagine you nesting there.

May 21, 2001

Today is transfer day. Go embies! Go my little team! It only takes one. One special embryo. I am ready to become a mother. Are you ready to come into my life? Things went very well today. 5 of you raced in and 1 rebel decided to give it a second shot. So now I am honored to have six of you in my tummy. I will lie here and honor you and make myself a cozy haven for you. How I long to meet you. Dig in little guys. Dig in. I imagine your wonder. I will become pregnant this time. I am ready to receive this blessing.

May 23, 2001

I feel you all in my tummy. I love walking around knowing you are inside of me. I love you all so very, very much. Your dad does, too. We have wanted you so very long. Years and years and ... years. Today I can move around and do small things. I don't have to stay lying down. I feel you there making a difference this time. Right now I am pregnant. I am pregnant. I want to feel your little flutters. I want to see your little sac on the ultrasound screen. I want to see and hear your heartbeat.

May 24, 2001

Dear God. I am feeling so scared today. Somehow the reality of returning to work has me all in a tizzy - worrying about the outcome of this invitro. I don't want this to be an IVF attempt anymore! No, I want this to be it! To be an IVF success story. I am so very frightened. We have told virtually everyone this time - all family, friends. And this is not a bad thing. We need everyone's prayers. I need to focus on today, this morning. Take big breaths and feel the prayer circle around us. It is very strong and loving. I deserve to be a mommy. Is this what it is about - the doubts? Somehow I think that a miracle can't happen to me - to us. It can. It will. I am pregnant. I am pregnant. I am pregnant. Please God, show me the way to motherhood. I have never, ever wanted something so much - so precious.

May 28, 2001

I have been avoiding you these past two days. Feeling angry, already. Betrayed. I don't feel pregnant. I went and looked back from our old records from the 1st IVF. We transferred 7 embryos. 6 were 4 celled and 1 was 8 celled. All heavily fragmented. Last fall, our 2nd attempt, we transferred 6. Our fragmentation is less this time. 5-10% fragmentation. Today I said to E that I didn't know if I could stop IVF - if it doesn't work this time. If we are not pregnant, will I be able to say O.K., time to move on? I don't know. How do you stop when you want something more than your heart and soul? How do you decide that this is the last time? Then what? Adoption?

May 31, 2001

This waiting is killing me! It is so very hard! There are hours when I feel like YES, this is it. This is different and I am pregnant. I've had really strong cramping that actually hurts, very low - just above my pubic bone. Also my breasts are more tender than I remember. The progesterone - blast it- can cause these pregnancy-like symptoms. It just sucks. I am wearing an additional estrogen patch - so that could be causing me to have symptoms. See! I question and double-question everything. No wonder I feel completely whacked out.

June 1, 2001

Dear God. I'm counting on you! How is that for blatant begging, praying, down on my knees - anything that would help you to know, but you do know how much I want this baby - our baby. Please God. Let these things that I've been feeling be true. Tomorrow morning is the test date. By tomorrow afternoon I will know. E is working tomorrow, so I will be here waiting by myself. I have mixed feelings about that. Of course, I would love for him to be here - waiting with me. But, as of right now I feel O.K. to wait for the call by myself - although I am also petrified. It feels so good to have some hope. I never felt this hopeful. It is possible that I could be pregnant right now.

To be continued...

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