Monthly Archives: November 2015

Thankful for those little things….

I had a tough day yesterday. It overwhelmed me and I got angry and frustrated. The disappointment came when we learned in an email from our fertility center that they have cancelled our third round of IVF. They said we are going to have to delay it for at least two to four months, due to complications from an estrogen imbalance they have found that I have.

In some ways, I am not surprised my body is imbalanced with all of the drugs I have had to put into it over the last few years. I will need to be on progesterone and a birth control for several months to rebalance things. (I cannot tell you how hard it is to have to go on birth control in the middle of trying to conceive – having to swallow pills that stop the very thing we want most.)

I had been preparing for our next round of IVF. I re-read all of my fertility books and two files worth of fertility notes. I re-stocked our cupboards with foods and supplements that help, all of the weird and wonderful things – acai berries, goji berries, beet juice, queen bee pollen, maca powder. Like almost every month, I counted forward in my head nine months to see when we would give birth to the baby we conceived this month. An August baby – visions of sunny walks pushing our newborn in a pram. Now, we will need to wait until at least February or March to try again, bringing me closer to another birthday without being a mum. Birthdays can be hard when going through this.

Yesterday I cried so much my eyes became filled with feathery red vessels and I gave myself a headache from all of the tears. This is all so confusing and disappointing. My husband, Jeff, is great. He came home from work and held me in a big bear hug. We know it is going to be ok. It is just another hurdle in our path, another wave to ride up and down, a few more months in the grand scheme of things. I went to bed sad but trying to appreciate the little things. We had our Christmas lights installed along the eaves of our roof yesterday and we added three trees strung with small golden bulbs this year too. They looked so beautiful twinkling like little stars in the inky blackness outside. That made me smile.

*deep breath*

Today is a new day and I woke up with gratitude on my mind. When I feel struggle, pain, sadness, or disappointment in my life – as we all invariably do at certain points – I have discovered some things that help me out. Physically, I find that fresh air and exercise are some of the best remedies. Stepping outside to feel the warm sun on my face or brisk wind on my cheek. Getting my heart-rate up, the blood pumping around my body and endorphins rushing. These things naturally improve my frame of mind.

I find consciously working on my mental state helps too. One way to do this is to look for gratitude and things to be thankful for each day. Starting by getting out of bed and saying “I am so grateful for this new day.” Then noticing and feeling thankful for the little things that make us smile throughout the day- my soft robe, my warm drink, the birds chirping outside, a flower opening its petals, the person helping to pack my bags at the grocery store or letting me out at a junction – things in nature and human interactions. Being conscious of life’s small pleasures makes us feel good.

I jumped out of bed and was thankful for all the opportunities this new day holds. I enjoyed a great breakfast of eggs, muffins, and avocado with my husband. The sun was shining. I threw on my new blue down skirt and went outside. I instantly felt better – the outdoors, nature, God. I put on a backpack and decided to walk the 5.5 miles that would take me there and back to the grocery store, to pick up my Thanksgiving meal ingredients. An errand, exercise, and some vitamin D – all covered. A storm was due in this afternoon, but right now the sun was shining and the outdoors beckoning.

I smiled as I walked along – at the sun, at the view, at the tall grasses golden in the sun’s rays; I ran my hands through them. I stood tall, I breathed, and I gave thanks. I am so fortunate for so many things. This is going to be ok. I strode on. I came across shards of a broken brown bottle on the path and smiled as I swept it away with my foot, piece by piece, so as not to cause anyone a flat bike tire – a good deed. I strode on. I laughed as a truck went by and honked its horn and two guys waved (my new skirt)! I smiled as I saw my friends at the grocery store. I smiled as I passed fellow walkers and bikers. I smiled as I marveled at the icy white crystallized layer on the partly frozen river, the water lapping underneath as it moved forwards on its journey, determined. I felt the sun on my skin, smiled, and strode on.

The way back was harder. I was starting to question my decision to walk so many miles and carry 14lbs of groceries on my back. The pumpkin seemed to be getting heavier and heavier with each step. My leg muscles were feeling the strain. I wondered whether a bus was coming past soon or a kindly neighbor might stop and offer me a ride home. However, I had my mind set on this journey and I was going to see it through. I can do it.

I thought of a recent book I read, Cheryl Strayed’s ‘Wild’ and her journey to hike the Pacific Crest trail. I thought about how hard it would be to hike all of those miles. Then I thought of the strenuous 4-day, 60-mile hike I did as a teenager with friends in the Welsh mountains, as part of our Gold Duke of Edinburgh award. I thought of it hailing sideways on us, of us toppling about with our huge backpacks carrying all of our supplies and camping gear, of us sliding on wet rocks, as our hands and feet tried to grip their mossy surface. At times during that epic hike, I had wanted to quit, but I did not. I did not stop then and I would not stop now.

I thought of seeing an acquaintance, Jim Harris, on the news last evening, of how he is making a recovery from a ski accident last year that paralyzed him from the waist down, of how he is learning to walk again, one foot in front of the other, of his perseverance and determination. I placed one foot in front of the other and thought of him. I thought of that tough year I had teaching in an inner-city school in London, of the stress and strain, of the late nights planning in the dark of my classroom, my only company the sounds of the cleaner’s vacuum. Of getting home and needing to continue working, of waking up and doing it all over again, of it making me poorly and run down, and how it nearly broke me. I persevered. I overcame. I showed resilience. I thought of how, in hindsight, these struggles were preparing me for this fertility journey.

I thought of a poem I was read by a friend earlier this year, ‘Learning How to Float’ in The Book of Awakening, by Mark Nepo. It describes someone learning how to swim and struggling in the water, arms and legs frantically straining and flapping. It teaches us that struggling is exhausting and when we stop struggling, we float. It is a beautiful poem, read it here. I picture myself on this fertility journey struggling amidst it all – all the yearning, trying, appointments, procedures, injections, information. The energy and effort it all takes. I see myself flapping and fighting in the deep end of the pool. Then I realize I do not need to struggle. I breathe. I need to let my inner strength and peace, and the love and support of my family, friends, and God, support and uphold me. The poem shares “The essence of trust is believing you will be held up if you let go.” I need to stop struggling. I picture myself calm and afloat in the water. The poem seems applicable to so many of our human struggles.

As I walked on, I adjusted the weight in my backpack, stretched my shoulders back, and took a deep breath. I realized my thoughts had moved on from overcoming my short hike and heavy load, to thoughts of how I overcame the bigger hurdles in my life thus far. And how being thankful for the little things – our Christmas lights, a walk, a blue skirt – had helped me be thankful for the big things. To be thankful for my health, being able to exercise, the place I live, the beauty that surrounds me, of not having a stressful job, and having the freedom and flexibility to volunteer and help our community, to write, and photograph, while also doing the things I need to do on our fertility journey.

I thought of the quote from my last post about the arrow, and realized it is just being pulled back a little further, before propelling me forward into new, great things. I realized when things are getting us down we need to stop struggling, we need to relax, calm, and trust. We need to be thankful for the little things, let them make us smile, put one foot in from of the other, and carry on.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Lydia

I am thankful for the pretty christmas lights that guide me home.

Thinking thankful thoughts today on my hike. I am thankful for my health and ability to exercise, the beautiful place in which we live, and my little blue skirt :)

I am thankful for the sunshine and views.

I am thankful I made it home before the storm came in.

We Are Ready For You

Two years ago I wrote about ‘Our Journey to Parenthood‘. Now two years later, and four years of trying to conceive, our journey continues. It is a journey of highs and lows, and incredible insights. I believe sharing our raw emotions and lessons we’ve learned is how we connect as humans. It can be hard to stay strong and positive in our faith and relationships during these challenges, but through love and support we can. These are my latest thoughts on our journey….

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To Our Dearest Child,

There is scarcely a day in recent past where I have not thought of you – your long eyelashes resting angelically on your cheeks as you sleep, the movement of your lips gently suckling as you think of your next feed, the soft downy hair on your head catching the sunlight, the tiny pads of your fingers and toes. Your image is in my mind and heart, a constant companion and reminder you are not yet with us. Some days the void is more apparent. We dearly want you here – to hear the sweet sound of a child within our home, to feel you in our arms – to fill us with your presence. We are ready for you.

Why are you not yet here? Is there something more we can do? You are in our thoughts and decisions. We anticipate you being here. A small smile spreads on my face as my eyes scan our living room. We chose our furniture with you in mind, our side and coffee tables with rounded edges, “So, when we have a child they won’t hurt themselves on sharp corners” we told the salesperson. I look out of the window and see the area we leveled for a swing set, just as we did in our last house. I worry about the tree blocking my view to keep an eye on you and check you are safe as you play, but I imagine I will be outside playing with you much of the time. I raise my eyes to our second floor and see your bedroom door. We have painted your room for you and had the carpet repaired. We received a crib that our niece and nephews used, and your Dad and I built it together last year. “Build it and they will come!” your Dad always says. We are ready for you.

Is there a lesson we must learn before you arrive? Your Dad and I have learned so much over the last few years. It was hard when we were first married – each of us adjusting to putting the other person before ourselves, being thoughtful, communicating clearly, and making decisions as a team. We are both stubborn and headstrong. There was anger and tears at times, but there is also so much fun and joy. Oh, how your Dad makes me laugh – his smile, his energy and enthusiasm. We have come such a long way and grown so much. We are a better team now. We appreciate each other more. We have a deeper love and respect for each other. I am thankful we have had this time to learn and grow before you arrived. There will be more learning and growing to do, I know, but we are ready for you.

The last four years have been an unforgettable journey. The day we decided we wanted to bring you into the world, and all that has passed since. I picture your Dad and I on a boat, riding the waves of hope and disappointment, up and down, joy and pain. Sometimes your Dad is the captain and sometimes I am, taking it in turns to row or bail out water, keeping us afloat. We see our destination. We move towards it. We are ready for you.

This is not a journey of sadness though. We have so much to be grateful for and have experienced great joy on the way. We must remember this. So often it can feel like we are in limbo, waiting for something to happen, waiting for you to arrive. I used to cringe when people told me several years into our fertility journey, “Enjoy life while you can, before you have children” – thinking they had no idea how we felt. Now I realize we must enjoy life now, we must remember to be in the present, not in a constant state of waiting. I look around me and my heart is glad. We are so fortunate. Our lives are rich with the blessings of amazing family and friends, of travel and adventure, of professional and personal success and fulfilment. I look out the window at the beauty that surrounds me, of all that God has given us, and I am so very grateful. We appreciate each day and each blessing. But, as I bring my attention back inside I notice once more you are not here to enjoy life with us. We are ready for you.

Life without children can be hard (as it surely is with them – I have no disillusions of that). Our society often seems designed for families. It is expected of us. We tend to define a female in her role as a wife and mother, for women who choose not to bear children, or those of us who struggle with it, that brings immense pressure and judgement. Childless couples can be met with surprise and suspicion. We feel the need to explain ourselves. There is upset and shame involved in not being able to deliver a baby. You can feel responsible, even though there is nothing you have done or can do to change it. Your Dad and I are so thankful for the overwhelming support we have had – the wonderful family and friends who have sustained us on this journey. They make a great effort to include us in activities, even if we are the only ones without a baby strapped to us on a hike or without a toddler at the park. They identify with us in other ways, as they did before. Sweet child, you are lucky to have the best support network of children and adults, who are all ready to love you, as they do us. We are ready for you.

Our family, friends, and God have kept us strong during our fertility treatments over the last two years – four IUI (Intrauterine Insemination) procedures in 2014 and two IVFs (In Vitro Fertilization) in 2015. We focus on the power of prayer and positive thinking through these. Your Dad was, and continues to be, the best husband throughout. He will be an amazing Dad too. I cannot wait to be a family with the two of you. During IVFs we had to drive to the clinic nearly every day for ultrasounds and blood tests. We did injections each night too. I found it almost impossible to stick a needle in myself, especially the 1.5” ones. Luckily, your Dad did them for me. He is very caring and patient towards me; he held my hand, rubbed my injection sites in small circles, spoke in soft whispers, encouraged me, and calmed me. At the appointments, we monitored the follicles growing, hoping that one of them would contain you. We are ready for you.

When they retrieved the eggs for IVF, I went under general anesthetic. They retrieved fourteen the first time and nine the second. The doctor told us we make excellent quality embryos so we are very hopeful. Both times after several days, they implanted two embryos. I was awake for this. We watched the process on a screen. I could not stop smiling and exclaiming my amazement to see the embryos transferred, dancing their way up the catheter where they would be placed in my womb, their new home. Throughout this journey, we are increasingly awed by the miracle that is conception and life, and bringing you into this world. The embryologist gave us photos of the beautiful perfect little cells. We prayed every day for them to take and implant or “Throw down their anchor!” as your Dad said fondly. We had hoped they would become you. We are ready for you.

We prayed about and visualized the embryos strong and healthy. I pictured myself with you, a baby, in my womb, growing each month, imagining myself looking in the mirror at my rounded figured and smiling. I pictured holding you in my arms. I created a vision board, I sketched myself with two babies, our two embryos, and I said positive statements every day. We were calm and optimistic. I imagined all of my loved ones sitting in a circle alongside us, smiling, supporting us. We are ready for you.

I was so sure that we had conceived you, that when people who knew we were in the process of IVF would say, “If it doesn’t happen this time, it will be ok, it will happen next time.” I would get angry. I did not want that to enter my psyche. I did not want to consider any possibility except that you were already growing in my womb. It upset me. However, unbeknownst to me at the time, I needed to hear their words, as sadly these two attempts at IVF did not work. We were devastated. It was worse than failing to conceive on regular cycles, as we were more physically, spiritually, and emotionally involved than ever. I told your Dad that I knew we both had a great inner strength, and that tenacity and perseverance were strong character traits of us both, but why were they being tested? It seemed unfair. We felt that this process had brought us so close to each other and that we had learned to support and balance each other better than ever. We had more to learn, but we are nearly there. We are ready for you.

If we could bring you into this world through trying, you would be with us already. In other areas of life when there is a goal you are after you can control it somewhat, through energy and effort to succeed. We have tried so hard, but bringing you into this world is not an area in which we have power. I get confused sometimes about how much is in our hands and how much is in God’s. Many people believe it is all in God’s timing and control. There is also the idea that God wants us to work at things too and not just wait for things to happen. We will continue to do what we can, and continue to learn the power of patience, trust, and prayer. Waiting is part of the process of what God wants us to be. We feel we are getting closer. We are ready for you.

We are getting ready to start our third IVF treatment at the end of the month, unless by some miracle we have conceived this month. We are optimistic and hopeful it will happen, and we will bring you into this world. We both dearly want to be parents. We have learned so much on this journey. We have learned to enjoy and be grateful for where we are at in our lives, without feeling in a state of waiting. Your Dad and I have learned to love, appreciate, support, and respect each other in new ways. We have gained a greater appreciation of God, and our family and friends, whose love and support upholds us on this journey. We have learned to be patient, trust, and have faith. We know when you enter our lives you will teach us new lessons too. We cannot wait to meet you our darling child. We are ready for you.

Your loving Mum
x

Images in my mind of of a sweet baby – their fingers, toes, eyelashes, lips.

Ovulation stick – I get excited to see my ovulation peak (based on LH surge). I cannot wait to see the positive sign on a pregnancy test too :)

Some of my IVF drugs arrive in the post.

Injection time – one evening’s supply of injections for IVF

We have ultrasounds every other day or daily to monitor the size of the follicles. The follicles look like large dark spheres on the ovaries.

Getting ready for the embryo transfer. Jeff is such a supportive husband and is going to be a great Dad.

I looked pretty excited and happy as they are about to transfer the embryos to my womb.

The embryos are transferred from a dish into a catheter to be put in my womb. It was amazing to see them dancing up the fluid ready for their new home.

My body feels like a pincushion. Targets are drawn on either hip for the nightly progesterone injections.

The vision board I created with daily positive mantras and pictures. I wrote a post on visualization here.

Making a wish by the statue of St. John of Nepomuk on Charles Bridge, Prague. It is said to come true within a year and a day. I imagine you can guess what I wished for!

Making a wish by the statue of St. John of Nepomuk on Charles Bridge, Prague. It is said to be a very sacred place and your wish will come true within a year and a day. I imagine you can guess what I wished for!

An inspirational quote a friend shared recently – something great is about to happen…

LydiaKluge.com

Reflections and photographs of life, travel, and adventure.

Monthly Archives: November 2015

Thankful for those little things….

We Are Ready For You