Journeys: the day after

waking to a flat cloudy sky

the long dark morning of late fall, the slowest dawn

a stillness

it hits me that it was not a dream

my grandparents used to live on long island sound, on a bluff with a view out over the water. one cold winter, the sound froze.

and where there had been motion, there was suddenly a jarring stillness.

yesterday when I came home, alone, my eyes moved to all of his places-- seeking a glimpse

the kitchen under the highchair

the strange spot on the shoes by the door

the closet

the bed

the bathroom rug

the tub

all night my eyes kept vigil, seeking the tell tale slink or flicker of him.

"I see his tail" Della said once. And then said she was just pretending. But in that moment before she confessed, my heart leapt, as if.

as if.

today, I am busy and grateful for the busy. but my eyes seek the motion that has always been. the quiet company. My friend Lorraine reminds me that he is here differently now, and "here" has expanded into everywhere. But my eyes and heart ache for the familiar, the furry presence, the small reassuring movements of breath and tail and whisker.

state of kate

It is wednesday. Doug is home for a few hours and is asleep with Della-- so I wanted to write a quick update on the state-of-kate.

First, a few shout outs-- beloved Kristin asked me to write a letter to my body a few weeks ago which she lovingly posted on her blog, trust tending. If you have not yet visited her blog, please do so-- she is a truly amazing person, writes beautifully and honestly, draws the way I wish I could. She is a soul sister, so please, go there and take a read.

Next--B of No News is not necessarily good news is Pregnant with #2 after her recent and first IVF for this baby! She has a new blog to document this new journey, and she is 43. 43. HEAR ME LADIES, 43. So, if you're looking for some good news, this is most definitely it.

Ok-- now both beloveds are awake, Della is clapping and talking. She has not pooped since sunday (not unheard of but holy wow there is a LOT of oatmeal in there)...

Not sure how all of those pieces of information fit together but,

ok

So-- the house sale hit a huge impasse when bank#1 rejected the offer (remember this is a short sale), appraised the house themselves and requested a much higher selling price. Huh. much higher. 30k higher.

***

days pass

***

it is now saturday afternoon.

so the miracle of the moment is that the house sale is back on as of this moment. Praying to the house gods...

I am in Maine and one of the many Sarahs up here has my baby for the next hour- so I've been like a crazed lunatic updating linkedin, quickly posting on my other blog (heartwork, remember that? so do I!) and now, finally here for a few moments before diving back in to work work.

I quit my day job wednesday, June 29th after 13 and a half years. I already had one contract lined up, and, since then, have secured another one, and a nice creative thinking project. I am not sure what will come next, but so far, things are BUSY and I am feeling a little overwhelmed with Things To Do. I'll be in NH monday-thursday each week (I realized I could not be here full time if I was going to do any work), and then in Maine each weekend until the end of camp when I'll be back in NH full time.

I cannot say what I am feeling since apparently I am the physical embodiment of mercurial. One moment I feel relatively calm, the next I feel panicked, one hopeful, one jazzed with anxiety... I do not feel rested or peaceful. And I don't (yet) feel jubilant. I think things were just too stressful for too long, and I feel very conflicted. I am having a very hard time letting go of my pragmatism in the spirit of a more holistic and happy life. This will take some time, I am willing to wait myself out, but need to keep making space for creativity. WonderfulDella is the most amazing teacher in living in the moment, focusing on whatever is right there, right now, needed or wanted.... immediacy, delight, wonder.

I am hoping for a half day a week to pour out what I am collecting and create space for creativity. It is very easy to just work through all available hours feeling as if that is what I should be doing above all else. So I need to watch myself, you know?

So-- Della is 8 months today, and I will write a post about that very soon. I miss you all, I miss this space, this type of sharing, this community. I am lonely for you all, I really am. My dropping out has to do with time, not interest. Single mothering of this particular little person is very intense and completely interactive. So, as of this week? Half a day to create. Let's see what happens.

If any of you have worked with a particularly good career coach or are good with titles, I need some help with what to call myself and my field of expertise. Please comment or shoot me an email icantwhistle at yahoo dot com.

other people's gardens

In my "note from the universe" today, there was a sweet message that basically distills down to this: why spend your time wishing for and wanting what other people have when you can discover and tend what you have that is truly yours.

I drove into work today noticing that the snow was, rather suddenly, mostly gone after yesterday's crazy warm weather and a night of warm wind. The horses were out waiting for hay, all wooly from the long winter. Right now everything seems to be shades of brown, but when you take a closer look, all of a sudden you notice the rice paper leaves of the beech trees, or the russet branches in the apple orchard, the buds on the maples are rosy too, and the birch catkins are the palest cream. Willows are downright yellow, and in my garden? A riot of purple crocuses that look like the tiniest iris. And chives! Green fingers pushing up through the bad-mannered neighbor that is the creeping thyme.

So while there is mud and hibernating grass and heaps of fallen branches, sticks, twigs, acorns, oakleaves, and gravel covered stubborn heaps of snow.... there is color too. At 8 tonight the sky was light enough to see the outlines of the trees.

It has been a really horribly tough few weeks, but in between the crushing sadness, I have moments of something that feels like hope, and I want so badly to string those together to fortify my heart.

The house is not on the market yet, but it will be. I am up to my neck in paperwork, and if I never have to do another hardship letter in my whole life, that will not be too soon. I cannot tell you how awful that was. But

it was.

past tense. It is done.

Requests came today for more information, more things to fill out, more things to find.

It will get done, and I know it will not be a forever project.

There's a gift in all of this: losing the house means losing the reason I need to get a JOB, the all caps job that means long hours and bigger pay-- not that I was finding those options anyway with my weird niche expertise, my otherwise generalist nature, and my too-long-at-my-old-company. But now I am free to look at work differently, to look for something I want to do and can do well. Something or things I would enjoy. I am looking into consulting, into writing, into coaching, into...... who knows? Once the house moves on to its next owner, one who will love it for the obscene bargain it will be, I can move on too.

***

Della is 5 months old, laughter, light, babble, DROOL, wiggling arms and legs, pure and total delight. She is smart and strong and funny. She looks at me, into me, beyond me... she grabs and holds and drops things rather randomly. She loves things that rumple and crinkle, loves the taste of banana and oatmeal from my fingertips, she laughs out loud at her dad's funny faces, and her face lights up when she sees him. She is tender one moment, inadvertently maybe, a hand on my cheek, and my heart melts. Then she bites down hard during nursing, iron gums, and pulls back, and I swear and she cries and I feel horrid. She no longer cries when we sneeze, but looks alarmed when we laugh loudly. She talks and talks and talks which I love.

Me, I am under renovation. Half my hair fell out in clumps and is still coming out in wads that are alarming. I cannot tell you how shitty that is. I am having to have faith it will grow back. I am back in my old pants but lord, not my old shape. That's ok though, I figured the pants would never fit again, so it is like having a new pair. I am trying to do yoga each non work day. But it is more for strength than calm these days. Plank while wearing baby in bjorn. Strength under squish. Skin on face is wrecked from stress I bet, and I find I am healing slowly. I am sick again with razor throat then gloopy snot. I think though that this is part of some sort of old-life sloughing. As I move through this, toward whatever is next, I hope that there will be less sleepless obsessing, more time outside, more time breathing, more time creating again (not on the phone with banks please). I look forward to the garden, which is both my garden and someone else's. I will not plant new things here, but I will tend. And I will plant a container I think to put near the door, to leave for the next folks, or to bring with us if I choose, when we go.

As someone so wisely said a few posts back, it is impossible to hold on and let go at the same time, but I find myself trying to and rediscovering over and over that I have to let go.

110 days

110 days since Della arrived, screaming, certainly, and wildly PRESENT and ACCOUNTED FOR.

I cannot tell you how my heart has been split wide open

and my world has been rocked

and how nearly everything I thought about who I am, what I can handle, what I think or what I know has been questioned (not badly, but deeply)

and how, finally, after years of finding myself deep in the throes of self torture at 4am, now it is nursing time, a time when I stare at the amazing curve of her cheek, or the wash of eyelashes that seem to grow longer as I watch.

4am and I watch the sky for softness and imagine it might be snowing, or see pin prick stars, or the brightest sliver of moon.

I cannot tell you what this year (now reviewed thanks to taxes, good grief) has meant for me, and how as I look ahead I feel a pull between panic (outright, abject, immediate) and some sort of longer term concern, standing on a melting ice floe, wondering what will come next.

Doug took a job that will take him/us to Maine this summer. This is an opportunity I might take advantage of to leave my current job even though it means financial hardship, (it is eventual anyway, and may be their choice come June no matter what I might hope for otherwise....) a clean break and a way for us all to stay together. I have done long distance. I have done split time. I have done two houses. I have done it and have no need to do it again, not right now, not with Della who changes every minute.

The house will go on the market this spring, after repairs are complete and the new roof is on. We will load our clutter into bags and boxes, and clean, and try to exit stage left with as much dignity and soul intact as possible. I know it is the right thing, but it is not the easy thing. This would have happened either way.

The baby is having a fussy day, an impatient day, and me, I am done with gathering papers for the tax guy

I did my best, it is not *complete* but it is as complete as I can make it. It is a big, fat envelope, and chronicles our last IVF, ultrasound by ultrasound. And even holding the amazing squirming beautiful stunning outcome in my arms, I still cannot believe it.

So, lots happening here, quick changes that came up and needed decisions, and some things put off that were needing attention, and here we are, adventuring. And me? Breathing into a bag.

I wanted to write about universal messages, about jumping off, about how a string of book reading and random emails came all saying the same thing-- about trusting, about jumping, about beginning.

Fairy dust

Snow on snow on ice on snow. The woods are full and branches heavy. There are frozen drops on the tips of all of the needles on the hemlock branches, and icicles as long as my arm hanging from all of the eaves. I am not sure there is much more beautiful than snow blown free with sunlight streaming in behind it, sparkling fairy dust.

But I am pretty much hating the new roof leaks, the bulging buckled paint, the orange edged stain that is creeping up and across the ceiling, and the feeling that the falling apart is outpacing our ability to keep it together.

It is the weather, I know. The confluence of snow and ice and melt and weight and the odd rules that water follows as it finds its way in. I spent today trying to focus on what is working, being warm and safe, being in the loving presence of my little one, being surrounded by such beauty.

The weekend whooshed by, and suddenly it is sunday night. I am facing monday with a knotted belly and a desire to stay up all night just to stretch the time between now and then. It feels a little night-before-exam-ish. I am looking forward to transforming this feeling into something else, something better, something life affirming, neutral even.

I have two meetings this week and hope to have another next week-- and two more to schedule. Babycare is hard to coordinate since we are not flush with options, but it is possible and I have to remember that and keep moving forward.

I keep having IDEAS and then, soon after, often soon upon sharing it, REASONS IT WILL NOT WORK come flooding in. Yes, I am guilty, I am the source of many of these self imposed smackdowns, but in all fairness, other folks are coming up with what seems to be effortless reasons why things won't work either. The economy is high on the list, as is the usual rule that organizations in trouble do not look outside for guidance or solutions. But, I will keep thinking. I have a new IDEA and am letting it marinate a bit. I'm hopeful that one of these will at least be the beginning, the priming of the pump, the thing that helps me move forward.

For now, hoping for time to slow.

Hoping this unbelievable cold stays outside and out of the pipes.

Hoping that a little epiphany will visit, perhaps not as a Shazam, but a slow unfolding. I sure would welcome either.

some baby pictures and reflections

A year ago (how is this possible?), I was beginning the last-chance-no-really-this-time-I-mean-it IVF cycle that ended with Della. I drove the route to Waltham on thursday, bringing a friend to a Dr down that way... I waved as I passed the clinic, simply amazed at what a difference a year makes.

This year I find myself mired in gutwrenching workstress and transitions, when all I want is to just simply revel in this beautiful baby and this truly miraculous turn of events. I don't want to be struggling with anything, you know? It is just very hard to let go of such a big (enormous) piece of my life and source of identity.

Every chance I get, I take a deep breath, re-center, refocus, gather myself, look at this amazing person and KNOW where my priorities are. NO matter what else is happening right now, coming apart or in the midst of the messy act of creation, this is exactly where I want to be.

I might continue to be a bit sporadic here while some of my bedrock comes apart and I allow myself at last to truly create a life that supports my heartwork, so I wanted to leave you with some images to tide you over for a bit.

Yes, she really is this cute.

Happy New Year!

Happy new year!

I'm glad you liked the last post's poem. I LOVE it and need to remember to go back to it again and again as my courage flags.

And thank you all for the advice on pumping and going back to work. You really helped with strategy and I feel like I can do it. I will pump one extra each non work day and will have plenty to top up the bottles for the days I am at work. I keep feeling like I need to have enough frozen for the apocalypse, but perhaps I should stop thinking like that! (no kidding katekate).

On new year's day I celebrated with a hike up my hill with Miss Della-- not all the way up the hill but close. I followed moose tracks up the trail, slipping and sliding (me), so it was important to go slowly and pay close attention to where I put each foot. Pine needles and tiny pieces of leaves and bark and other tree parts peppered the snow. The moose tracks went all the way down to dirt in many places, the thaw of the day widening the hoof prints to enormous proportions.

My heart was pounding, I was sweaty all the way through all of my clothes, and it felt GREAT.

I stopped when I realized that I was pushing on as a matter of pride,legs heavy, and a very special baby strapped to my body. Pushing onward was silly, I was done. So I stopped for a while, looking out through the trees at the mountains on the far side of the valley, enjoying the soft light (ohhh my) and the peace of being in the woods with nothing but the sound of my own breath, my own heart.

Today I met up with our lovely sprogblogger, got to gawk at her amazingly peaceful bountifully cheeked Henry (gorgeous baby) and just kick back and be my own self in the midst of her amazing library/barn. Honestly, what a great day. Della was fussy as she often is, and had a hard time nursing, so I danced around the room, checked out book titles, and jiggled myself into near oblivion. Then, a major blowout diaper (good lord) and all was better. (Thanks for the handmeovers!)

We're home now with a peaceful and probably overstimulated Della, and I, for one, cannot wait to go back again. Thank you SB! We had a wonderful time!

How fun to have her in the neighborhood. How lucky am I?

Della is 2 months old today, how is that possible? Eyelashes and beautiful smile, hands that reach for toys, and a very busy forehead as she takes it all in with wide gray eyes. I am so honored to be part of this, to be able to watch, to jiggle, to soothe when I can, to witness, and, when possible, to facilitate. She is truly miraculous.

2 months. Time has simply been woooshing by at an insane rate.

I go back to work on monday, down to two days a week now in my ever-shrinking job (better than zero which I feared), and I will simply do the best I can both there (as I always do and always will) AND I will do the best I can with my own future as I create it and as it unfolds. I want so much to create something GREAT and affirming. I'm working on some ideas and hope that they start to coalesce into something coherent. Instead of waiting, I am going to take some action and see what happens. I can always change course if I need to. I want so much to do something I am very good at and enjoy. So...

Tomorrow my mom comes for a few hours, and while she is here-- I will set up my new/old ebay computer in a more comfortable place, put some software on there, and begin.

I wish us all the bravery we need to move forward in the direction of filling our lives with things/experiences/people that we love. Even a small step is a step in the right direction. I think I'll go read that poem again. I could use it right now!

sisterlove and kevlar underoos

My sister is here and has been since thursday- a love fest, so helpful, so wonderful, so incredibly supportive as I am absolutely flailing after the worst work week yet.

Truly- after a particularly awful exchange, I almost quit, and had to do everything in my power to make myself stay.

Toxic, abusive, acutely uncomfortable- I cannot believe how quickly this has gone to complete hell- and here I am facing a Monday and my whole day today has been accompanied by fluttery nerves and anxiety about the week to come. This sucks my life force to the point it is hard to even have the energy to do research, to find places to apply, to imagine doing what needs to be done. I want to come home and crawl into bed.

But I can't. I am trying to get my resume together. Any of you work with a remarkable job coach you can suggest? I am in need of creativity with knowledge of technology-- input is welcome.

So as long as I can, I am working in parallel-- which is necessary-- trying to stay as long as I can while looking for work. But I do not know how to take care of my emotional safety. I don't have a thick skin, and find myself near tears much of the time. So as my dear friend Jane used to say, I am going in tomorrow wearing the emotional equivalent of kevlar underoos, and I sure hope I do better with self protection than I did during the disaster that was last week.

On much more positive notes, I am lying here with my feet on my sister who is reading aloud to her youngest (such a Treat, there is almost nothing I love more than being read to), and today marks week 26 of this amazing journey. The baby has been moving wildly between times of rest. I am feeling SO LUCKY even when folks tell me I am mammoth. I am so lucky. And mammoth. But lucky is winning even if it is not quite as noticeable from 100 yards.

And tomorrow my darlin' is home to share the evening with me.

I wish I could just revel in the good stuff, and trust me, I will try.

My next journaling workshop is starting August 13th-- please pass the word! The last one was awesome.

the Catheter, the Speculum, and the Wand

Honestly, it is hard to know what to write after yesterday's fabulous news of Sprogblogger's positive, and then Eileen's too! Damn ladies, almost nothing makes me happier than when one of us gets (and stays) pregnant. It delights me and fills up my heart. Thank you!

I had a shit day yesterday besides all that bliss, felt off kilter and spent the day chasing myself in circles. Got really badly lost in Boston, long stupid story, got found, got two, count'em two, hystosonogram catheter threadings, two. Why two? Because it hurt so badly the first time she stopped part way during attempt#1 in hopes it was in far enough. Nope. So, out it came, and in the next one went (you know, along with its friends, the Speculum and the Wand)-- that time, it went as far as it needed to, I was hot pink and sweating, and then, it was a bunch of wand waving, and hip lifting, images taken and printed and then I was done and outta there with a "cavity" that was pronounced "beautiful" and "open" and "clean" and my lining is tri-whatever and all that is Very good stuff.

Sore, and glad that is over.

So, next step, ovulation planned for this weekend (saturday night, say, around 2am--ha! yeah, no.) Then monday afternoon's meeting with Dr. O, where I need to remember the test results are objective, but the interpretation and conclusion are often subjective and all that. But really? I am curious about the results AND the interpretation. Hope I do not cry.

10pm

Gosh, 10 already, I feel like I blinked and here it is, late, night, time for bed.

I moved an inch today, called boston IVF, called to see if I can just get the testing done we talked about back in August when I met with Dr Oskowitz, their doc who specializes in older mom wannabes such as myself.

So, I called, left a message.

Several hours later they called back- kind but not warm, and yes, they found my file and oh, my referral ran out friday. So, I needed a new referral. And, as such, I need to make another appointment for another consultation. Which is fair but annoying since, gosh, friday?? But I was barely ready to call today. So, waiting is ok. (waiting is ok, waiting is ok, waiting is ok, waiting is ok...)

So, I have a new referral, they will call with an appointment time and day sometime for mid January. My next cycle starts this weekend. But it will come and go, no tests. That's ok, but I was kind of hoping I could sneak up on this.

Why Boston IVF? you folks have all been wonderful with suggestions, and Boston IVF was in the running for the top 3 and a place I'd already made contact with and been examined at... So I figured I would start there. Next will be Fertility Centers of New England.

So one inch forward, some more waiting, and some time for breathing. If I look at this the right way, I will have a few moments between now and then when this is not the first thing I think of each time I wake in the middle of the night, the first thing I think of in the morning, or when I pause or stumble... I want a break, even if for a little while, but I also want so much to be on the other side of this.

Sending weblove to Sarah at Dreams and false alarms for her shitty recent loss, and for Illanare for hers, and sending love to Sprogblogger as she is on the cusp of her IT WILL BE SUCCESSFUL transfer, and to Traci and her monsters, love to Nic who is healing and Mo who is on the cusp of a CCRM adventure and Elizabeth whose days are filled with love and uncertainty and K with her two and Dawn and her one and Beth who I will meet sometime soon I hope and Kate who is impatient and Kate who is sunflowering and Melissa and Michele and Phoebe and Eileen and Billy and Jules and Jem and t and Elle and Onward, and Backseat, and Whatif and one pink line, and Pundelina, and Maredsous (missing you!) and bb and Meinsideout, and Joannah, April, Sarah, Sassy and Serenity,Megan and Jenn (miss you and hope you are healing!) and Maddy and EB, music maker and Magsy and scifi, and future mom, and Amber and Dirk.... all of you I wish I could read more often...and I hope to catch up soon.

And to all of you who stopped in to offer suggestions and to let me know who you are-- sharing three little words-- how wonderful and heartfilling! Thank you so much for playing along.

Kate, tired but hopeful, resilient when not falling apart, ready, waiting.

stunned lull

My sweetie was brave for me today and called and canceled the Dr. appointment on the 21st. I know he spoke with our nurse. I also told him I was not able to hear that she thinks we're doing the right thing, so he has not told me about their conversation which is good. Because, honestly? I am not ready to hear almost anything at all. He did ask them for a copy of our records since our pregnancy in March and she will be sending them.

To be honest, I am not even sure what we are doing. Or if we can even do whatever it is we want. Not one thing is certain. We are not in rampant information gathering mode. We are in sort of a lull. A stunned lull. A lull where you know you need to get up and get the laundry out of the drier since it keeps buzzing but you can't quite haul your sorry ass off the sofa. Like me, right now. A lull, by definition, is not action packed. It feels nearly impossible to pick up the phone and just call, just ask, just schedule. It feels impossible to add to my summary document of our journey so far the details of our cycles since the pregnancy. I read websites and wonder if my lining was ever made with 3 stripes of anything. I never saw it, they never said. And if that is some sort of entrance exam for a shared risk DE program like the one in bedford, I am not really ready to fail again like that. So we read a little, write for information, and then sit in a stunned lull.

Thank you all for the kind words and support and suggestions. I am still not ok. I feel like shit about this and just want it to be different. Giving up, moving on...yeah. I am not sure I really can. But honestly, logistically, financially, spiritually even, maybe I have to, at least a little, at least from what we've been trying or how we've been trying.

I want to get a whole lot more energized for whatever is next, a little less defeated/deflated. I am so afraid if I even call for information I will cry.

We made plans today, fiscally inappropriate plans, to go away for a few days in January to someplace warmer and potentially sandy and salty that requires an airplane ride or two. This feels good and bad. Good because gosh darn, sandy and salty and warm? that sounds Good. Bad because of the money (modest but still).

But now I have something concrete (or sandy) to look forward to in January, and something good in February (a writing workshop and meeting friends in real life one of whom I only know through here)...

And now I am heading away for a few days of work related diversion- I travel tomorrow and come back saturday late. So if it is quiet around these parts, no worries. Yes, I am retreating, but I have the cover of a work project to lend plausible deniability.

My 10 seconds today: my moo cards came. I love half of them rather passionately. They feel wonderful-- truly, tactile lusciousness. Smoooooooth. And I decided if I waited to know who I am to declare myself, I would be waiting forever. So I wrote at least some of what I know to be the truth: I'm Kate, enthusiastic intuitive wonderer.

If we all introduced ourselves by who we Are instead of what we Do.. ever wonder what's your real title? No, not the cynical one, or the self berating one, or the one that labels your thighs or your uterus. Want to leave a few words about who you are? I'd love to hear them. Please be nice and imagine you're describing a little of your highest and best. And none of us will imagine that your three words are the whole you, we'll know the truth, that they are just a window, a peek, a little diversionary voyeurism. Feel free to be anonymous. It is kind of empowering. Try more than one.

Another of mine? Olympic level laugher

letting go

I am

and I am not

There is a moment we all know, when you take a step and realize the ground is not where you expected, and you hang in mid air waiting. The only thing you know is that what you thought was going to happen (or maybe even knew was going to happen) is not happening. And that, quite unexpectedly, you find yourself hanging in the great inhalation that is the in-between, not this, but not that.

I am in between. I am not where I was, and not yet where I will be going.

Letting go of my big PLAN is one of the hardest things I have ever tried to do. It is a death of sorts of an idea and ideal, a big dream, my heart's desire. I had a one track mind: this way, it said, go this way. Go with all of your heart and soul and energy, and I did. I new about other options, spoke about them, thought about them, but knew that I would play this one way all the way through.

And then I took a step, and the ground fell away, and here I am.

In a nod to empowerment and in not becoming victim-ized by this whole shitty thing, we've chosen not to try to do the IUI up there this month (what if I call and they say no? or if I go and they want to talk? I simply will not be able to handle it). We've chosen not to go to the meeting with the doctor on the 21st just to hear it is over in person (an added stress and heartbreak I do not need to put myself through). We're choosing to stop in a "we didn't want to be your friend either" defensive sort of way, but also in a way that lets us feel we are making the choice. We know that they are truly doing what they believe (and probably is) the right thing. But this shattered me. And so I need to do something different.

So, internet lovelies, I live in southern new hampshire. I am looking for a clinic within relatively easy driving distance that you or one of your beloveds has felt good about- DE yes, shared risk yes. Logistically we are trying to avoid cycling far away (Shady Grove) since it is going to be very hard and we are trying not have this be any more difficult than it has been or has to be. But we need a shared risk option because of the expense.

So Boston-ites, suggestions are welcome. Leave them here in the comments or send me an email icantwhistle

at

yahoo

dot

com

warnings of places to avoid are welcome too.

Thank you for your incredible support always.

Fucking IF is just one loss after another for me. And I am so so so tired of failing.

Thank you for any suggestions and recommendations. While I am not there yet, I sure as hell want to be able to hit the ground running.

surfacing

Cramps finally are calming down, thank god/goddess/all-that-is. They were really, really hard this time around- my usual megadose advil did not make a dent, and the persistent pain really wore me down. BUT I am better today! And Maddy made me laugh with her comment. I think suckitude and fortitude may be friends actually. Things suck, but I'm still in the game.

I am finding it hard not to be aware that the 9th, looming, my would have been due date. It feels impossible. I read about Onwardsandsideways fabulous 38th week. We got pregnant at the same time, and where she is feels like a foreign land. I ache for that possibility that truly wasn't, and for my easy projection then into this upcoming holiday time with big belly and then baby and a new year beginning with our bigger family. And it feels like a dream I had once. Not like a real thing that truly could have been. And yet, dream or not, it cuts pretty deeply, you know?

Speaking of dreams, I dreamed of babies last night, one could type and had written this whole short story in tiny question mark delimited fragments like this: One could type? and? the whole story? was in fragments?

And it was weird to read it, since I kept thinking: MY BABY WROTE THIS. I also dreamed of my last high school, of visiting for some sort of movie watching reunion thingy, having one very foamy beer (I do not drink at all in real life), getting woozy drunk, and kissing some random guy named Eric who does not actually exist, and needing to leave before in-dorms but realizing I was too drunk to drive and not entirely sure where I parked anyway. The stars were amazing as I wandered about looking for my car, that I do remember. So my point? My dreams are not all portentous. Most are just brain barf.

And now, speaking of brain barf, I feel like babbling here for a while- I guess this means I am surfacing. So this? This portends well.

suckitude

Yup, I need to confess this out loud and right here: this one, this negative, this one hurt more than many others have. Maybe not the other real IVF since that just felt so right. But while so many other negatives sucked, there were tears and then I moved forward. Maybe this one is so hard because of running out of time. Maybe it was the misleading twinges and cramping. Maybe it is the pre-tenderness of my bruised and battered heart. Or our lack of sufficient credit and time left to explore options... The feeling that time is whooshing by at breakneck speed.

Not being able to do anything but an unmedicated IUI this cycle is also hard-- it is always easier to have the distraction of a complex protocol. So I am temping again (Maddy, I don't bother temping when I am on progesterone support since it makes my temps nice and high and holds off my period, so I find it very misleading). I will take mucinex. We will test for the LH surge. I have asked for an IUI.

But, yeah. I got to dance with my old friend acute grief for a while and while it is nice to be led around so masterfully since I know so well how that goes, really? I am ready for something else.

I am trying very hard to not drown in this. I am succeeding except sometimes when a wave washes up and pulls me under. I almost feel like I am watching it happen.

But I'll be ok. Last night around 2 I woke up crampy (gosh this period has some major butt-kicking cramping), and the moon was far in the western sky, up behind some popcorn clouds, and it was so lovely. And in moments like those, I just feel the joy of it. And this part of me, this part of the katemosaic, this part is so good.

Thank you all for your wonderful and kind support and frustration on our behalf. It means so much to hear you roar and shake your heads and fists and feel this is unfair: Thank you.

Sending love to all of you out there in limbo right now (Jules, and Sassy, and Scifibaby) I am so sorry about the in-betweenness. I think that sucks extra.