they're, there. their.

Once upon a time, I had a brain that could multi-task. Or so I thought.

That was before sleep deprivation, estrogen fluctuations, and prolactin and oxytocin changes. Now, my brain is mush. Mush.

I'll get up to do something - say refill my water glass. And then I'll notice that the washing machine has stopped. So I'll put the glass down in some random place, and transfer the clothes to the dryer. Then I'll notice the cat puke on the floor, so I'll try to clean that up while holding Elodie. Then I'll remember I need to defrost something for dinner. Thirty minutes later, I'll still be thirsty and have no idea where my glass has gone. Worse yet, I won't even remember what it was I was doing in the first place. By the end of the day, there will be 6 partially consumed glasses of water spread throughout every room of the house.

When I write these days, it's scary. I commit errors that are my own pet peeves. Substituting "they're" for "there". Or I'll spell something wrong.

Forget having a conversation with me. I'm half-listening, I promise. But should a random, seemingly important thought pop in to my head, I'll forget everything you've just told me.

I've even gotten in the car and turned the wrong direction because I forgot where I was going. Fortunately, I have managed to fasten Elodie into her car seat each time.

The grocery store is a joke. I'll forget all the essentials, but manage to walk out with some completely irrelevant item that I never knew I needed.

I started this sentence yesterday. I have no idea what else I was going to say.

Just a little scatterbrained. But so, so happy at the same time. And just realized this is (published) post 400. Crazy.

wordless wednesday

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that dreaded day

The day when all infertiles probably stay in the house.

One year ago to the date was my "official" pregnancy test for the clinic with Elodie. My doctor called me himself at nearly 10:00PM to wish us congratulations. Last Mother's Day was the second test - my first normal-range normally-rising beta hCG ever.

We certainly didn't observe Mother's Day last year. Who knew if those little numbers were really going to turn into a baby? But they did. And here we are. And somehow I made it to mother.

But I want to make wish today for those that aren't here, yet. I want you to make it here. To get your positive or your referral. To take your baby home and expand your family.

jumping the shark

A year ago, this blog jumped the shark. I peed on a stick and got a real second line.

All television shows do it eventually. Well, not the pee part. Though having children (think Mad About You ) often marks the decline of a good show. Or when Ross and Rachel finally got together. It's that moment where the show loses that edge - in the case of Friends it was the chase that kept the show interesting. Sometimes it's easy to pinpoint the moment or episode; sometimes it's not.

For my blog, it was that Wednesday morning that I decided to run out to the grocery store and buy a box of FRERs. All of which had those previously elusive second lines by the time I was done with them. It's sort of sad, but the angst and failure were a vital part of what kept my story interesting. The possibility of success keeps you on the edge of your seat waiting for another post; the actual success, while initially interesting, just doesn't captivate in the same way.

Don't think for a second that I'm going to stop blogging. There are no sponsors to make happy, so I'll write for myself for as long as it helps me in some way. Besides, I'm always disappointed when my favorite bloggers choose to stop (not that I'm anyone's favorite blogger). I like being able to read beyond the birth story - the birth isn't the end, after all. I'd like to think my story gives a little hope to women out there with one or two or three or four failed cycles.

So we jumped the shark. The ratings dropped. But there's still a story here - one that won't end for a long time.

4 months

Elodie's 4 month appointment was today. Her height and head circumference both increased well; her weight, as I suspected, did not. 3rd percentile for weight (down from the 10th at 2 months), 25-50th percentile for length (up from "below the 25th"), and 25th percentile for head circumference (the same).

There's so much and so little to say about it at the same time. She's had a good week or 10 days of eating lately, and she looks a little plumper to me than she did a week ago. But there's so much ground to make up for - it's impossible.

She eats when she wants to eat. And when she doesn't want to eat - she doesn't eat. Period. I'm exhausted by this issue. And I'd like to bury my head in the sand about it for right now.

The fun stuff? She's really discovered her hands in the past week. She clearly grabs things, moves things, and touches things now. She's vocalizing more. She laughed last week - a real laugh. I haven't gotten another one, but I know they are coming.

My heart was both heavy and light in different moments today. The worry is intense. The pleasure in watching her reach milestones - in watching her do things today that she couldn't do yesterday - is phenomenal.

But I'll certainly take this roller-coaster over the infertility roller-coaster any day of the week. Exhaustion, frustration, and all.

3 years

I started this blog three years ago. I was pretty naive - I knew something was wrong, but we hadn't been trying to conceive for that long - about 10 months at the time. I thought I'd start the blog, pop a few clomid, and BOOM be pregnant.

I never thought we'd do IVF at that point. I just didn't think we'd need to go there. I thought we were too young, too healthy, too "normal". Silly, silly me. About 10 months later we started our first IVF cycle. And a year later, we were still at it.

Three years of blogging. I've never so much as kept a journal for more than a week, so it's quite the accomplishment. Some of the bloggers I started reading are still around, but many have either stopped blogging or have sort of just disappeared.

I plan to keep writing, though I know it's not the same as it used to be. It can't be. I can't write about how horrible infertility is - it's in the past. I can only be thankful for where I am and where this life is headed now.

366

Three hundred sixty six days. One leap year.

Every infertile blogger reminisces about the one that worked. That finally, finally, finally, finally, finally worked. That's one finally for each transfer. And oh how I needed that cycle to work. I know we need every cycle to work, but I really needed that one to work. I needed her to stay. And she did.

May 1st of 2007, she was a little ball of cells.

She was one of these. I always imagine she's the one on the right.


And the often written, "What a difference a year makes."