Three Years Ago

One of our last pictures we took together before the deployment. Utah Lake, June 2011

 On this day, three years ago, I kissed my honey goodbye and sent him to war. I sent him to Iraq--to suicide bombers and RPGs and secret missions in secret places he's still not allowed to talk about. I also sent him knowing well that he may not make it home for one reason or another. He promised me he'd come back to me, but you simply can't make promises like that when it comes to war. It is war, after all, where there are people actively trying to kill you, let alone all of the friendly fire and many freak accidents. He's even told me himself that when his base would be mortared that it was a complete lottery: where one man had been standing, he'd be completely destroyed while the man next to him didn't have a scratch. That's the way war works: complete chance, freckled with miracles.

Alex was one of my favorite parts about the deployment. She is amazing. North Shore, Oahu, July or August 2011

 While Josh was gone, I spent six months with his sister. She is one of my very best friends, and we had some crazy adventures together in his absence, with banding together in Hawaii, escaping a crazy lady's house, hiking, swimming, and adventuring, living together again in Utah, and then nannying in Maryland. And being with even just one member of Josh's family made the days easier for me. I still felt connected to him in a way I don't know I would have felt otherwise.

Sunset on the North Shore of Oahu, July or August 2011

I talk a lot about the fun I had while he was gone--and there was a lot of fun--but the truth is that it was really hard too. We'd go for days without even emailing, and I would have no idea how he was doing. I couldn't leave my phone anywhere (just in case he called), and if I missed a call, I'd become so distraught that I would sob uncontrollably for way longer than necessary.I had absolutely no control over our relationship or the communication we shared. Ultimately, I was always afraid for his life. Wherever I was, whatever I was doing, in the back of my mind I was worrying about him. I'd make what-if plans in my head for what I'd do if he never came home, and I prayed every night that I wouldn't have to find out. Josh jokes that I just vacationed while he was gone, and I did a lot of that, but there was always the underlying feeling of dread and the sadness of experiencing so much wonder and beauty without being able to share it with the person you care about the most.

We didn't Skype half as often as I'd have liked, but it was amazing to see him when we did.

 The funny thing is that sometimes I miss it. And I know that it's normal for the soldiers themselves to experience nostalgia for war, but I've never heard of a wife wishing her husband would go back. Not because I want him to be in war, exactly, but more that I really enjoyed being completely independent while he was away, and sometimes I miss not having to tell anyone where I'm going or what I'm doing. Sometimes I miss shopping without the constant criticism of how much money I'm spending. Sometimes I miss having only my own messes to clean up. The truth of it is, sometimes I miss having complete freedom. Maybe that sounds weird, and maybe nobody will understand it, but it's true for me. And I know he misses it too.

He's a pretty cool guy, that Joshua.

The past three years have been filled with school and work. They've been spent trying to start our family and moving and beginning professional careers. They've been filled with laughter and love. They've also been filled with depression and heartache and the longing for something more. And, for six months, the last three years also consisted of my sweetheart being gone, training, fighting bad people, and our own separate independence.

Hottest steely-eyed killer I ever saw.

 And really, this post is just about saying thank you to my guy for being brave and coming home and putting up with me in the meantime. I know that I've had my imperfect moments all along the way, but I hope that the love I've got for you can at least cancel some of that out. Thank you for serving, and thank you for coming home to me.

-B

Stop Telling Me I'm a Mother

Okay, so before I begin this post, I just want to say that I am writing this from a place of love. I am not a bitter person. I have bitter days about this whole infertile journey, but I'm not bitter. I had my IUI a week ago and I'm currently just riding the monthly roller coaster that I've been on for three years. In short, life is good around here right now.

That having been said, all of these blog posts floating around about how "all women are mothers" really need to stop. And here's why: these posts have some fallacies in their arguments that inevitably leave someone feeling left out or in disagreement. Really. Stop patronizing us non-moms. We still have plenty of self-worth and identity in other areas. Don't tell me I have to be a mother when I'm still not part of that club yet. I get it that you're trying to make us feel included. I understand that it's just because you love us and don't want to be sad. But really. Just stop.

Does this mean adopted children can never truly understand their mothers' love for them?

My beef starts with how mothers are wonderful for carrying their babies for nine months. I mean, of course this is a selfless sacrifice that many mothers make, but what about all of the women who become mothers through adoption? They don't carry their children in their wombs, but they take care of every other aspect of a child's life. Are they not also true mothers for their late nights cleaning up vomit from their child's bed or poop in the tub? Are they not mothers for the love they have for their children? Should they not receive credit for the hours of helping with homework or the boo-boos they kiss or the time and finances they invest in their children? Of course they are real mothers. They love their babies just as much as the next mother. And it would be ignorant to argue that adopted children do not truly know their mothers' love because they were never inside of their moms. While women who have fulfilled these qualifications are definitely mothers, even if their children have not survived to be mothered, I don't buy this argument in its entirety. This isn't the only path to motherhood.

The next issue I have is with the argument that all women are mothers because all women nurture and love. This article here was undoubtedly written from a place of love, but it leaves much to be desired in its argument. While I agree that most mothers are, by nature, nurturing and loving, motherhood is a club that not all of us women are a part of. Some women choose not to be mothers by choice, and others are in the same boat I'm in where we're stuck at the mercy of medical professionals and the grace of a higher power. In short, we aren't all mothers. We can be teachers, fun aunts, family, friends, or a myriad of other roles within a child's life--but we have never been handed a baby and been able to gaze at it lovingly with the knowledge that we will never have to give it back. We've never delivered a child or adopted one and known that we were mothers, ultimately responsible for the little life in our arms. That's what so many of us want. That's a key aspect of motherhood. We don't have that. That's another reason why we aren't mothers.

These articles have been written from a good place. They've been written in hopes to make some of us left out women feel included on Mother's Day. These don't make us feel included though. It feels fake, hollow, and incomplete. And, here's the thing: we aren't mothers on the other days of the year either and we tend to get along just fine. If you'd like to ease some of the sadness (that some of us may be experiencing) on Mother's Day, ask us what we need. I don't like to have gifts on Mother's Day because I feel like I don't deserve anything. I am not a mother! On Mother's Day, I like to spend time with my own mother. I like to go hiking. I enjoy reading. I'm even working tomorrow. It's not a special day for me this year. Maybe next year I'll have a baby and be in a different place. But this year I'm not. The attempts that everyone makes to have us feel included are sweet, but they make me want to simply remind them that I am not yet a mother and do not need any Mother's Day reminders. End of story.

So, if you gather anything from this post, please remember that those of us without children do not need to hear condescending half-truths. We don't need to be told that we actually are part of this club that we aren't a part of any other time of the year. And it's okay. Birth mothers? You rock. Adoptive mamas? You're amazing. Biological moms? I salute you. Step-moms? Thank you. Foster moms? You make so much more of a difference than you'll ever know. And to any other sort of mother who I've forgotten? I'm sorry. You're raising the future. Thank you for taking the extra time with your little ones and loving them a little more for me. All of society thanks you for taking your role seriously and doing such a good job raising your kids.

Happy Mother's Day.

An Untypical Saturday

An old wives' tale says that if you surround yourself with babies, your body will be irresistibly fertile. Does it count if I'm looking at pictures of baby myself? TBT (except it's Saturday...) to infant Bryn, circa 1988 AD.

My typical Saturday is spent either a) working, b) recovering from working the night before, or c) hanging out solo while my guy works. This is an ongoing thing, and I've come to accept that weekends are not always the times that I will see Joshua. And that's okay. But that's not what happened today.

Today was ultrasound day. So I dragged myself out of bed at 7:30 after working sixteen hours yesterday (and driving two more) and took a shower. And shaved. Because I think it's common courtesy to be presentable for the medical professionals that will be looking around down there. Whatever. Beside the point. Five minutes before go time, I had to wake His Highness up since he "just needs to throw pants on" (his words), and we were out the door. By 8:30. On a Saturday. I think we're growing up. Gross.

Everything at the ultrasound went well. I've got a big egg in each ovary, and neither of them had ovulated yet, which is good because I was on cycle day 14, and this is usually a day 12 kind of thing, and I had been worried that we'd miss our window. I was prescribed my Ovidrell again and told to administer it "right away" so that I'd be able to have my IUI done on Sunday (since I don't have to work). So, we drove over to the pharmacy and picked up the prescription. We administered the shot in the car, all "meth-style," according to Joshua. I don't know much about meth besides my extensive viewing of Breaking Bad, but I'll take my popo's word for it. Anyway, yeah. That happened.

 And then we decided to go and get some breakfast, because by now it was 10:30 on a Saturday morning, and we were in Salt Lake where our options were endless. While we were stopped at a traffic light, Josh saw an older gentleman walking with a cane and carrying a big, heavy box. Josh told me I needed to get in the driver's seat because he was going to go help the man. I drove around the block, since we were in a left turn lane, and when I found Josh and pulled over, he told me we were going to give the man a ride. It turns out he was trying to get downtown (and was way up by the University of Utah). He was new to the area and was returning a Christus (*spelling?) statue to Deseret Book because his church had told him they'd reimburse him for buying it, but because he just moved he needed them to do it right away since he'd skipped buying furniture in order to buy this statue. It was a really sad story, and I was happy to drive (Jack from Friendship Manor) downtown. And when Joshua had walked him inside to Deseret Book and helped him with his statue, we set off again in search of breakfast.

We ended up at the Corner Bakery, which was amazing. Eat there. Maybe not every day, since their french toast is like coffee cake, but at least once. It was so good. Afterwards, we were on our way over to the Gateway mall so I could show Joshua the Urban Art Gallery when I witnessed a drug deal. It was ridiculously obvious. (Who the heck literally buys drugs off of the street corner??) Part of me wanted to yell at the drug dealer and buyer and just let them know I'd seen them, but mostly I didn't want to get shot, so I just told Josh about it. We laughed. Because when you're married to a cop, sometimes that's what you do when you see a drug deal go down at 11:00 on a Saturday morning. Seriously, the kid must have woken up and though I could sure go for some heroin right about now. I just don't get it. Anyway, the gallery was awesome, and Joshy and I got to share some fun moments. Tomorrow they're opening a Star Wars exhibit, and I'm pretty sure Josh is going to talk me into breaking the sabbath to check it out. Whatever. #yolo #AmITrendyNow ?

Let's end this thing, because it's late and I'm a little old lady who should go to bed at 10:00 every night. Anyway, I'm going in for my IUI tomorrow. And then I won't know anything for two weeks. And I think it's kind of rude and tortuous that that's how it works, but whatever. I hope this works, because it's been three LOOONG years of trying, and it's getting old. I'd like to move on with my life or freaking start my life, but I don't feel like I can as long as I'm holding my breath to see if I will ever have a family.

So here's to answers and self-discovery and random acts of kindness and laughing at the things in life you can't control or change. Here's to sunny Saturdays and naps and new sheets of 800 thread count Egyptian cotton heaven against my skin. And here's to tomorrow. May it be even more wonderful than today.

My Corner of Crazy

 Hey amigos! Long time no see, eh? I've just been a crazy worker bee to bring home the money to my honey so we can stay afloat. (I actually think it's working right now too!) That therapeutic boarding school where I work? It's amazing. I love my job every day. Each day is an adventure preparing me for who knows what that I can only assume I'll have to deal with once again when I have teenagers of my own.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about today. Actually, I have a confession I really wanted to make: I don't know how this story is going to end. I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to build my family in a biological way. I don't know if I'll ever adopt a little baby to be mine forever. I don't even know where this story is going right now. And if I had to guess? I wouldn't be able to. I have no idea. My life can still go a million different ways. And you know what? That's okay.

Yup. I said it. I've finally gotten to the point where I'm okay with the fact that I may not be able to control my future. I don't know if I'll have children. I don't know what I'm going to do when I grow up or who I'm going to be. And isn't that its own kind of wonderful?

I've had three events cause some pretty significant paradigm shifts for me this week. Though small on their own, they've each impacted me significantly and reminded me of a few different things.

I had a friend tell me the other day that she is jealous I get to peek at my eggs once in a while, and while I was initially bugged (because I'd much rather be fertile than have monthly vaginal ultrasounds), it gave me a little perspective. Huh. My situation isn't really so bad. I mean really. At least my ovaries are producing eggs. At least my ovaries work. At least I ovulate. And my husband has sperm that are usually able to come hang out around the right time of the month for our three or four day long dance party. And maybe I'm not getting pregnant. But I am getting closer to figuring out why not. Because as the months progress and the treatments don't work, I have fewer and fewer causes it could be. This whole infertility thing may last the rest of my life, but at least I have a Reproductive Endocrinologist who listens to me and isn't rushing me into anything. Seriously. This could be worse.

I just switched houses at work today (we have three locations) and had a chance to work with a co-worker who I'd never worked with before. We were talking about ourselves a little bit since the girls were in a cycling class (that I am really excited to do next time!) and she mentioned the fact that she was pregnant when she and her husband got married. She said they'd already been engaged for a while when they found out and that their little buddy just hurried their wedding along a little. And then she talked for a little bit about how it's been a struggle to get married and become a new parent in the same year. She encouraged me to enjoy my time with my husband while I can because children can be their own kind of challenge when they come around. And, since this was our first real conversation, I didn't really feel it appropriate, so I didn't mention the fact that I am infertile and I've been trying to get pregnant for three years or the fact that I'd give pretty much anything to have a baby these days. But you know what? She's right. I haven't really been enjoying this time with my husband because I've been stressing about the impossibilities that I face and the what-if's and the maybes and the worries that accompany all of that. And I forget that my guy really is as wonderful as they come and I'm creepy borderline obsessed like crazy with that boy I call mine. And sometimes I forget it. How can anyone forget something so great? Maybe life just makes you forget sometimes.

This weekend, in Pleasant Grove, UT, very near where Joshua and I shared our first basement apartment after being married in 2009, an infant's corpse was discovered in a woman's garage. Upon further investigation, six more infant corpses were discovered by police. This story makes me sick. So so sick. For some reason, a woman decided that her only option seven times was to hide her pregnancies and murder her children immediately following birth. What a crazy crazy world. And you may be thinking, what the heck could you have learned from this? And I swear to you, under other circumstances, who knows? I could have been that woman. My life could be so much worse. I cannot even fathom being in her shoes, but I can sure try. And I'm telling you, the only thing that could ever drive someone to do that is complete desperation. And while I feel personally affected by this story (because, for freak's sake, I would gladly have raised every single one of those babies), I can't judge. I'm currently the crazy girl who tracks everything that goes on in her bedroom, and I used to be the freak who took her temperature every morning in addition to charting her cervical positioning and cervical mucus along with any other "pertinent" information, most of which was about my moods and breast sensitivity. And while this may seem like comparing apples and oranges, we're all our own kind of crazy.

And what do I want you to take away from this today? Embrace your little corner of crazy. Because perspective is a powerful thing. Today I'm the girl with headaches who's wearing pink jeans, rocking her bandaged arm from having blood drawn again, snuggling with her mutt-pup, and listening to Arctic Monkeys on repeat. I'm enjoying my wavy long hair and the fact that my bangs are close to being grown out again. I'm the girl who drives too fast with her sunroof open and always gets conned into the "upgrades" at Jiffy Lube because those dang mechanics are so convincing. The one who's watching all of the "kid snippets" on Youtube and laughing hysterically at Season 3 of Bob's Burgers that recently arrived on Netflix. I'm the one who works with troubled youth and loves it more than any other job because I'm making the world a better place one girl at a time. I'm the one with the stoic stare and the logical argument, the one who plans out everything she does, strategically, deliberately before doing it. The same one who wants to write novels and live on the beach for the rest of my days. Yup, that's me, in a nutshell. That's my recipe for crazy. And, do you know what? It's all good. Because my kind of crazy is okay for today.

What does your little corner of crazy look like today? Are you free as a bird or a worker bee? What's your soundtrack? And how does it look? Because for me, my kind of crazy is looking okay.

Random Thing: If you are pregnant and not sure of what your options are, please consider adoption. Because I know I'm not the only mama-to-be with no baby-to-be yet. And if my little corner of crazy doesn't seem right for your impending bundle of joy, there are so so many other families who are looking to build their families through adoption as well. Open, closed, whatever. You can pick. But please, if you're thinking about pretending it didn't happen and whatever goes along with that, please choose life. Please think about the future for that little baby.

Fertility Drugs, Ultrasounds, and Unsinkable Hope

Hey all!

I had my ultrasound on Friday and wanted to update anyone who was curious. So, here's the deal: Femara=Awesome. At least, I liked it way better than Clomid. Femara's worst side effect was that I felt a little goofy after taking it. Like my equilibrium was off. So I just didn't drive within so many hours after taking it. That was a pain because my work hours vary, so I couldn't take the medication at the same time every day. Eventually, I moved the time I took it to right before bed, and that seemed to help. And the longer I took it, the less weird I felt after taking it. So that was that.

At my ultrasound on Friday, I got to take a peek at my eggs and saw that I have two mature ones (one was WAY mature, measuring something like 30mm), and there were three little ones, one at a 16 that may have had time to get big enough for fertilization, but it wasn't likely. In a nutshell, everything looked great!

Then came the freaky part. My doctor gave me a prescription for Ovidrel, the HCG shot that makes your body ovulate. The rationale behind the shot is that because it boosts your body full of hormones, it causes an increase in your progesterone production as well (and makes you ovulate). And if my issue is low progesterone, it may help that. Also, we were already planning on using it for my IUI. But if you missed it, my IUI was cancelled for this month because of our work schedules conflicting too much. Our schedules and hours really are terrible. It makes it very difficult to plan appointments in advance. But that's shift work for you! If infertility has taught me anything, it's that flexibility really is a necessity in life.

So, on Friday night around 9:00, I gave my stomach a good ol' alcohol cleaning, took a few deep breaths, chickened out, and made Josh stick me with the needle. I was too scared to do it myself. Surprisingly, the needle itself wasn't the part that hurt. It was preloaded with my prescription and everything, and the needle was really tiny. The injection hurt when I could feel it pushing into my stomach, but it wasn't terrible. The injection site has been sore and feels bruised, but that was it. I haven't felt any different or weird, but the insert for Ovidrel has the funniest side effects (gas, hiccups, uncontrollable bladder, etc.).

And that was it. And if you're wondering, having a doctor prescribe you with timed intercourse is about as sexy as it sounds... But, until next month, we'll do what we've got to do...

In other fun news, Josh's Clomid prescription has been upped to every day instead of every other day, and his mood swings remind me of my own. I feel bad that his pain causes my happiness, but how many women can honestly say that they know their husbands understand hormone-induced mood swings? I know mine does. And I feel for him because I get it too. We're a hormonal mess around this house right now, and that's okay. Somehow it works out.

And if this month doesn't work, guess what? We'll just try again next month. And we'll keep on trying until we decide to do something different. Right now I'm mentally prepared for three IUIs and no in-vitro, but we'll see. The crazy thing about this human existence is that we are always changing and growing and it never stops. If you're lucky enough to have a little baby, please give it a tight squeeze, kiss those chubby cheeks, and remember how lucky you are--how there are millions of people like me who would do anything to be in your shoes. Don't forget it. Your worst day is someone else's daydream. I'm just going to keep doing whatever I can to make my daydream a reality. And in the meantime? Please keep praying for us. We feel it in our lives every single day that you do. We love and appreciate all of it. Let's cross our fingers and toes and hope I have some good news in a few weeks!! And if I don't? Next month is still a blank slate and we'll figure it out as it goes. But I promise to keep you updated, as always!

-B

Femara, IUI, and Livin' on a Prayer

Oh, hello world! It's been forever, hasn't it? Well, hopefully that hiatus will be the last one I take, because I sure miss writing! Life has been crazy and weird around here. All of our friends are pregnant or have newborns, I've been working like crazy with my crazies, and I totaled our 4Runner. Haha, all in a day's work, really. I'm fine--absolutely no injuries--but I am in the market for a new vehicle. Hopefully within the week I'll have a shiny new car.

In infertility news: absolutely nothing has happened--yet! My sweet Josh and I went to the doctor for a second opinion a couple of weeks ago, and we learned that we probably won't be getting the answers we seek. That was a bummer, to put it lightly. To put it heavily, I might have cried into a cheeseburger and embarrassed myself in a restaurant. Infertility will make you do that sometimes.

We are three years in. Three years of infertility is so so hard. And going in to see a specialist, hoping for more answers and then being told that you may never get any is its own kind of heartbreaking. And so, in typical Moody fashion of taking our time, three years later we're finally making some grown up decisions. This next month, we're going to do our first round of intrauterine insemination. Intrauterine insemination (or what we infertile couples call it, IUI) is intimidating because I feel like I'm admitting that I really can't do this--that I really do need help. And I don't want help. I want to be able to do this with just my husband and me, the way it's supposed to work. But without any more conclusive answers, this is the next step. And I want a baby! So that's that. It was IUI or a laparoscopy to decide if I have endometriosis, and I opted for this one first. We'll get to the laparoscopy later if it's needed, but hopefully it won't be.

What is IUI, you ask? Well, let me break it down for you. Here's how the procedure will work for us:
Cycle days 3-7: I take Femara. Yup, no more Clomid for this girl. I had some uncomfortable side effects from Clomid and would rather not go back on it if possible. Femara is very similar but hadn't been around for quite as long as Clomid. It's not supposed to have as bad of side effects though, so that's a plus!
Cycle day 12: I go back in for an ultrasound. Anyone want to just write my clinic a check for $250? Because for the 5 minute long probe session, I really feel like the clinic should be paying ME! Anyway, they're going to check my eggs and all that yadda yadda, just like they did while adjusting my Clomid dosage last year.
Cycle day 13-ish: I get to have a shot! This shot will force my body to ovulate within 48 hours. Sounds like a party, right?
Cycle day 14: Josh will deposit semen at the clinic where they'll "wash" it (meaning they separate the sperm from the proteins surrounding it) and then deposit it directly into my uterus via a catheter. Not the most romantic way to do it, but I've tried the romantic way long enough. Obviously that doesn't work for us.
Cycle day 15-?: wait. Maybe tests to find out if it took? Probably just wait. And overanalyze everything. ;)

Fun facts:
1. We will be using Josh's sperm. This child still be biologically be both his and mine, if I conceive.
2. The trigger shot to make me ovulate also causes my body to produce more progesterone. So if that's our big issue, it should be helped with the shot!
3. I won't know right away if this worked. Just like every other month, I'll be waiting to find out, just like everyone else. And when I do find out, please be considerate and let me elaborate when I'm ready. It's all right to ask, but if I'm vague, it's probably on purpose and I don't want to talk about it right then.
4. Twins are a very real possibility with this.
5. There's only about a 10% success rate of IUI working at this clinic. I may be a lucky one, but I may not. Please don't tell me you "know this will work." I love your enthusiasm, but no one really knows.
6. If you're the praying type, we would love to have a prayer said for us. If you're a temple goer and have a chance to add us to the prayer role there, we'd really appreciate it. Not the praying type? We always accept good vibes. Keep 'em coming, please!

Anyway, this is really happening! I'm stressed and heartbroken and worried and scared, but mostly I'm open and hopeful. I'm receptive to the fact that this may work, and I'm accepting of the idea that it may not. I'm trying to focus on the positive, and I'm hoping that with all of our family and friends praying for us, maybe we'll get our own miracle. A girl can dream, right?

-B

Six Weeks in!

So, I'm six weeks into living healthier, and I am feeling great! I've already lost over ten pounds, and I'm hoping to lose about twenty more (though not before this challenge is over). My clothes fit better, I have more energy, and I'm all-around feeling better about life. I'll be honest, there are many days that I don't make it into my living room to work out (or the gym, or outside, or whatever), but even on those days, I'm drinking more water and consciously eating healthier than I ever have before. I mess up once in a while and eat sugar when I shouldn't or eat within three hours of bedtime, but mistakes are a beautiful part of humanity, and I'm okay with that.

In case you aren't familiar with the weight loss challenge I'm currently participating in, go here to learn more about it. If you've decided to follow along and join in, how is that going for you? I know I'm only a third of my way to my goal, but I'm so glad I'm doing this! Anyway, I just wanted to check in and let the world know that I'm still breathing. In fact, life is pretty great over here. :)