WhatAboutNovember

Prayer. And sweat.

2012-02-09T16:43:00.003-05:00

I was talking to a woman at the gym earlier today, and she was griping a bit about how she's working so hard and not seeing much progress. She said she gained another pound (and I helpfully piped in the cliched but often true, "maybe you're just transforming the fat to muscle" which she knew), and yet doesn't seem to see any shrinking in inches. And this time I kept my mouth shut, because I've never been in my early fifties with menopausal hormones crashing in and the body changing, again, before my eyes and in my almost 30 years, perhaps I've finally learned to keep my trap shut when I don't know what I'm talking about. But then she said, "But hey. If I hadn't been working out, maybe I would have gained 3 pounds instead of just one."

And that just got the wheels spinning. Exercise seems to be a lot like prayer. Putting aside the myriad of comparisons to be made between physical and spiritual discipline, it just occurred to me:

Sometimes we pray and we pray and we pray... and nothing happens. And we say, "But God, I prayed and prayed and prayed and nothing happened."

And He says, "That was the gift."

Exercise keeps us from all manner of disease and illness and injury that we can't have known we're being saved from because they don't happen.

This is nothing new. No new revelation here.

Just once again, I'm marvelling in the gift of incarnation. Not even just THE Incarnation, but mine as well. I woke up in this incredible thing one day almost 30 years ago, this body, and it's infuriating and doesn't work right, and even the few systems I'm intelligently in charge of I don't run properly a disappointing percentage of the time. But I find Him here. In the first gift He ever gave me.

Nadia

2011-11-14T14:07:00.003-05:00

You would have been due a year ago today, child. You might have been a sturdy, drooling, adorable one year old today.

I mark this day, today, in some deep silent part of myself. I thought about telling someone, reminding someone, saying, "Hey, today is..." Today is what? It seems like a marker of nothing. But for you and me, my sweet lost little one, we know it's not nothing. I treasure you still, even if it's only me and your Father above who remember.

Everything is different today than it was a year ago.

I live in a different house, and your father and I have barely spoken in months. He has the little bunny I bought for you. I didn't fight him when he told me he was keeping it. He loves you and wanted it. And I surrendered it. I had as much choice in that surrender as I did in yours, and child, I miss you...

I grew up a lot this past year. It was a year of life lessons. But I would have rather been your mother than this much older and this much wiser.

We are told to give thanks in all things, and little one, believe me, I do. I'm thankful I had you those weeks. I am thankful that the God who gave me you and took you home is so near to me. I am thankful for the friends He has given me and the family He has given me. Your grandparents are uncle are amazing people and I am thankful that we have become so much closer.

Little one. I don't really know what to say.

I'm remembering you today.

The race

2010-12-02T09:07:00.004-05:00

We got up at 4:45. We left for the city at 5:15.

There were thousands of people milling around, waiting for the bathrooms, pinning numbers to their chests, warming up, chatting. It was exciting. I was nervous til I got there. Then, I just wanted to run.

The weather was perfect. The morning was perfect. Gorgeous. Perfect.

We were led to the start line in waves, according to our predicted finish times. I was in the purple group. And then we started running.

It took about 10 steps for me to fall in love. I felt great and the atmosphere was exciting. There were thousands of runners and even more spectators. The sun was rising, and around mile 1, I realized it was Sunday. And yes, there was more than a little Shabbat Shalom coursing through my veins.

Miles 1, 2, 3, and 4 just fell away. I felt mile 5, like I thought I would. There were a few ups and downs in mile 6, and at the water stop in mile 7, I asked what mile we were on. Seven was where I thought I was, and it was just about right. Mile 8 was as hard as I thought it would be, and there was a "Holy hell, who the heck put this here" hill in mile 9 that most people walked up. I muttered "Not walking a step of this" in my head and plugged my way up. The leg stretch, relief and exhilaration of the downhill on the other side made it totally worth it. I'd earned that downhill float. I almost cried when I passed the 10 mile mark. I'd never been farther than that before, and the satisfaction there went so deep. The realization that there was only a 5k left made me almost drunk through mile 11. Mile 12 hit like a train. The road curved back and forth, and the side-to-side grade made first my right leg and then my left leg burn. The sun was in my eyes and I got grumpy, wanting only to sit down for a damn minute. But there was that low steady voice in my head saying, "You've got this. You're strong enough. You've got 10 minutes of this left. Easy." So I put my head down, listened to what I knew was true, put one foot in front of the other and then the mile 13 sign was visible, the road curved up and to the right, and I started to hear the announcer at the finish line, the roar of a crowd and I ran. And I was in love again. Before the finish line even passed below my feet, I was in love. I was stunned at the finish line. It was one of the sweetest things ever.

I ran the whole dang way. All 13.1 miles. It was worth it every mile, even the ones that burned, the ones that ached, and the ones that about knocked me on my butt. I think the hardest ones were the ones I loved the most.

I am alive and it's a really good thing.

One thing that was amazing was that our bibs had not only our numbers on them, but our names. The race route was almost entirely lined with spectators, and so many of them cheered for you by name. There's nothing like hearing someone belt out, "You've got it! Good job!" at about the moment I was wishing I had one of my buddies running by me. We can stand in for each other sometimes and it counts. It counts more than I could have imagined.

I don't think about my own name much. But you know how it is. Or is there anything more encouraging than the sound of your own name shouted when you're about to drop over? Is there anything more comforting than the sound of your own name spoken by a person who loves you?

It was a great race.

Oh. Finish times. I went into it with a 3-tier goal. Anything under 2:05 would have left me delighted. Anything under 2:10 would have been satisfying. Anything over 2:17 would have been disappointing. I finished in 2:04:57. :)

Without a doubt, one of the very best things I've ever done.

Nerves

2010-11-17T19:45:00.003-05:00

It's Wednesday night. On Sunday morning, I'll run a half marathon.

I'm nervous. It's not like it's something I've never done before (but it is - I haven't). It's not that I think I'm going to fail (I don't). I know I'm allowed to walk a tenth of a mile here and there if need absolutely be. But need, real need, won't be. I've run 10 miles before, and I know I can do another three on top of it. I know it'll hurt, and I'm prepared to deal with that. I know where to file away the "ouch" and the "tired".

I know which voice in my head to listen to. The one that says low and steady, "You are stronger than you think you are. You are ready and I'm proud of you and you can do this."

I just want to be there. I want to shiver in the early morning chill. I want to stretch my quads and touch my toes and line up my playlist. I want to hear the siren and take the first step. I want to feel the first two miles fall away and know I have another 4, easy, before I hit another wall and have to "easy", "breathe", "drop your shoulders", "look at the sky", "breathe", "breathe", "breathe in now", "breathe out NOW". I want to be in that moment when I remember the choice I've already made to run the whole way and choose again, when it hurts, to do it. I want to be a body moving, carrying a mind, sorting out the wrinkles in a soul. I want to taste what all this work is for. I want to be stunned at the finish line.

I want to be there.

And when...

2010-11-14T00:06:00.002-05:00

And when I look at myself today, I find that I am drastically different than I might have been. Every now and then I have moments like this. I remember almost 2 years ago, I went on a trip with my brother to VA, and I realized while there who I really was at that point, and realized who I might have been had things worked out differently, and I realized that the two different possible "me"s would hardly have even been able to converse.

And today I find a similar experience in my hands.

I would have been due today.

Instead, I am lean, leaner than even my wedding day. I bought new bras today because the girls have shrunk with all my running. I am capable of running ten miles.

I have new virtues, and I'm coddling a new set of vices as well. Those are the biggies - bigger even than defined muscles and disciplined endurance. The who I am has changed over the last seven months for good and for ill.

I want a priest and I want a blanket.

Today I'm missing someone I never got to meet.

Maybe two someones. Maybe I'm missing the me I might have been as well.

The body

2010-09-28T14:29:00.003-04:00

A few weeks back, I took my stepkids down to my brother's Nazarene church. He's a youth pastor there, and he was preaching that Sunday. Before I go any further, I have to say, his sermon was brilliant. My baby brother has turned into quite a guy, and I'm very proud to know him.

And while there, the wheels started to seriously turn. I've been mulling it over ever since.

One thing that was weird was how foreign that service felt to me. I grew up in an Anglican church, then went Evangelical non-denom for quite a while before quitting church (though not the faith) altogether for a while and then becoming (though not official yet) Orthodox. It was strange to struggle to find goodness and truth in a church, but I did in his. Struggle, that is. And find it, actually, eventually, also. I told myself over and over at the beginning that it's not for me to be a connoisseur of churches, that all goodness and truth is God's goodness and truth, and not to miss it by it being buried in a bunch of "stuff" that I just don't understand anymore. But it was hard and uncomfortable and foreign, and so much of what they assume is so far off the mark as to be downright harmful to a person trying to learn to love God and neighbor.

But the first thing that hit me is this. We sang the song "Breathe" which at one time was a very meaningful song for me. And I have to say, my heartstrings immediately shot down to a little town in Virginia to a woman who is very far away and so very very dear to me. And I said a prayer of thanks for her - for who she is and who she is to me. She is a giant in my life and in case you're reading this, B, I love you. Consider yourself hugged. But my dear friend, that song is empty for me now. God is simply not so far away, and I can't pretend He is, and I won't imagine He is, and I couldn't sing a song that created more space than it had ever diminished. Desperation is not an emotion I experience when it comes to the presence of God.

And that was the first stunner.

And then I started thinking about what redemption is, and how it happens. Or rather, how it's happened for me.

And I've come to this. Bodies are very important things. Holy things, even.

I sat in the church, listening to my brilliant brother, with my stepson under one arm and my stepdaughter's head on my lap, and I thought about the miracles that were nestled up next to me. It is hard to parent them. It's not what I imagined in all my rosy daydreams, and stepparenthood is not what I had planned for myself. I wanted my own children. (Silly thing, I had to lose one to learn that she would have only been "mine" in a very limited sense. She would have always been God's first, her own second, and mine only third, and only for a while.) But those two little people in those two little bodies are absolutely essential to my working out my faith with no small amounts of fear and trembling. They are the rolling pins that are working out so much of the selfishness and impatience that wrinkles me up inside.

And I thought about my own body, and what I know about it, and how I'm learning to forgive it for failing me, and love it for carrying me, and be in amazement at how much it can actually do. I ran 5 miles yesterday - the last one for fun. For fun. My body has yet to give birth to a new life. But it is presently birthing itself, and it's amazing to watch.

And I thought about the Body of Christ that I am finding growing up around me. I don't have a church right now, but I am surrounded by the Church anyhow. My friends are incredible people, and each random one of them is absolutely beautiful.

The body is a holy thing. I need to remember that these days.

And, I'm just now coming to this. I think I've figured out a way to better explain why that song fell so flat for me. When God is searched for only in a certain set of experiences, and even when those experiences are so carefully constructed and perfectly presented, we certainly may find Him, but we only find a part of Him. How can we expect to find the fullness of the infinite in only one of the gifts He has sent? We can't. And we will be left unsatisfied, desperate. We are found, saved, redeemed, made whole, made joyful, made ourselves, made His when we seek and find Him in all the gifts He has sent. He is certainly in the the wistful beauty of a sunset and the power of a song. But He is also in the drops of sweat that roll down our back, evidence of the body that is breaking and being made new. He is in the friends with the wrong background and the wrong lifestyle choices. He is in our bodies, the Body of his Church, the body of gifts he sends, and (Christmas is coming!) His own Body. We are complex creatures and can no more survive on one kind of spiritual nourishment than we could survive on only apples, healthy and delicious and good as they are.

God is not so far away.

O world, as God has made it
All is beauty
And knowing this is love
And love is duty
What further may be sought for?
-Robert Browning

Living with the absolutely idiotic

2010-08-20T10:18:00.002-04:00

Or rather, living in the absolutely idiotic. :)

Backing up a little bit... We're allowed to "try" this cycle. All that means is that we're allowed to do what we've already been doing all summer, which is absolutely nothing to prevent pregnancy. Really, we've not been holding our breath. We were instructed that for two cycles we were to be absolutely vigilant about preventing pregnancy. Abstinence at certain times, and protection at all other times. Friends, with our combined fertility, having sex at all is having sex with protection. If 33 months of concentrated effort has yielded us nothing, I'm pretty sure we're good. Haha.

But we're "eligible" for the next IUI now.

But anyhow, we're on cycle 3 since ye olde miscarriage, but because J might (read: he thinks he will, but his wifey is pretty certain it's not going to happen) take a group to Italy next May, and if it worked right away, I'd be due in May, we're waiting one more cycle.

This cycle, if last cycle is any indication, will end in approximately 3 weeks and a day or so.

I'm on CD 18 right now.

Enter the idiotic.

I do not want 41 day cycles and I am irritated at this body of mine.

That's all. :)

Permission to Fail

2010-08-14T20:43:00.005-04:00

Granted.

Bits and pieces of this post have been popcorning around in my brain for the past several days. Maybe weeks. I'm wondering if I can make this make as much sense here as it does in my head.

So for a long time, back in the day, in my earlier life, I thought I had to be perfect. I thought it was expected of me, and that was partially true. There were sources of that expection. I was one of them. The pressure from that intense self-scrutiny had me turned so far inward that I imploded on a fairly frequent basis. It also made me fairly self-absorbed. Funny how self-loathing is self-obsession in an ugly dress.

Thankfully, I had a lot of the shell that I had built around myself shattered for me. There's no such thing as a pleasant shattering, but as my good friend Gandalf says, "not all tears are an evil."

But, you know. Old habits die hard. That sort of thing. I still have a very hard time taking criticism. If the bathwater isn't sparkly, perfectly temped and fragrant, I'm strongly tempted to just toss the whole dang tub, baby included. (I'm the bathwater and the baby, you see...?)

There came a point, perhaps as recent as last fall, when I realized that I had to give myself permission to fail. I'd been moving towards that point for quite some time, mind you. There was the day some 5 years ago when I traded in my GPA for an apron and went to work waiting tables. I still occasionally feel from some sources that my only redeeming move was to have married a professor. At least I still have some "status." Whatever to that, I say.

But I think it was last fall that I actually articulated to myself the principle that had already blown the lid off my life: "You are allowed to fail." In keeping a house, raising children, learning how to be a wife, etc, I had to literally give myself permission to fail at one thing per day. Perfection is not a goal I can reach, and insisting on it in myself was going to set me farther back from real virtue than an honest, trip-and-fall, approach to the daily grind of loving ever could.

That doesn't mean that I don't strive to be the very best me I can be. On one hand, I strive. On the other hand, I say, "Relax." Life is a thing that must be carried with both hands.

So what got this whole train of thought out of the station was an invitation that bounced and bounced and bounced around inside my head. "Hey, why don't you run a half marathon with us in November?" November. The month that sends gong-like reverberations of "ow" vibrating through my chest. Not to mention the 13.1 miles that constitutes a half marathon. Surely not. Surely not. I run 3-4 miles three times a week. I do not cover vast distances.

But it's to benefit Connor's House. I believe in this project, and I love and admire the people who started it. And I realized that I can certainly walk 13.1 miles. And I can certainly run 4 miles. So between now and November 21, I can probably work up to, say 10 miles. The fundraising isn't contingent on running the whole way. I can walk any or all of it and they still get whatever funding I raise. I can fail and still achieve my real goal.

*nibbling lip*

And then a funny thing happened. Giving myself permission to fail took the pressure off. I signed up. I have a training plan in place, thanks to my fantastic brother in law (BIL).

And I think I can do it.

And I'm pretty sure I'm going to run across that finish line.

And I'm pretty excited about it.

BIL and I talked a lot about running in the past 2 weeks. Enough that other members of the family learned to roll their eyes and wander off the moment we got started. But we view running in much the same way. It's almost sacramental. The more you use your body, learn it, get to know it, and use it in an amazing way, the more it gives back. It shouldn't be a surprise. We kneel to pray. We fast to prepare. Our bodies teach our minds and souls things all the time. This is yet another activity has become a grace-bearer in my life. Perhaps I'll write another entry about it sometime.

But I guess what I'm trying to say is that by granting myself permission to fail, I've given myself the freedom to not lose sight of my actual goals.

This is carrying over into my parenting too. We spent the last 2 weeks on vacation in NJ, and my stepson was a major challenge. He was negative, mouthy, mean, contrary, hyperactive. Ugh. This child is a good child. He's a sweet boy. He's always had traces of what we saw while away, but never so much. The actual details of how he was/is is subject for another post. It's too much for here. But both of my sisters in law, who were enormously helpful in their observations and suggestions, were also so encouraging. At the same time that I felt like I was falling on my face, over and over, when it came to dealing with him, they kept telling me how good a job I do with him. "What?" "But you don't know," I kept wanting to say, "You must not have seen when I failed here and here and here." But they saw something else. I'm still not sure what, but I do know one thing.

I know that before he left our home last night to go back to his mother, he came over to give me a hug. He usually bounces over, gives my knees the obligatory squeeze, and trots excitedly out the door to go see her. It's fine - he's supposed to be happy to see his mother. I don't mind that. But it always stings a little too. But yesterday, he wrapped his arms around my neck and didn't let go. Even he seemed surprised at his own reaction. He just held on. And we chatted a little bit about what he was feeling. "Are you excited to see mommy?" Shrug. Nod. "And you seem a little sad. Are you sad to leave too?" Nod. "You know what? I think that's OK. It's exciting to see Mommy after so long. But it's OK to be a little sad to leave too. You'll have a great time with Mommy and we'll see you in a couple days. I love you always." Nod, "I wuv you too." And then he went happily trotting out the door.

What if life turns out to be like that? What if it's just fail, fail, fail, fail, fail, fail, until you find that, somehow, unbelievably, all the grace-bearers that seemed to hint at another interpretation of all those failures were right? What if all the fairy-tales and folk lore are right? What if there really are pots of gold at the end of the rainbow? What if they're in the puddles along the way?

(This can't be completely right. But I think there's something worth hanging on to here.)

Heaven and hell

2010-07-05T13:10:00.002-04:00

Heaven.
My brother is getting married on Saturday.

Hell.
I will be wearing a strapless teal dress in front of 250 people. I was so white as to be blue a week ago. So, I purchase a 6-session tanning package. I burn the first day. Can't go back the next. Then, I run outside twice, read outside in the sun, and then stand around outside at a picnic. All in different shirts. I have 5000 tan lines and look a little like Neapolitan ice cream. Not the plan. Sigh.

Hell.
I ran my second 5K this past Saturday. My time? 32:14. That's a steady 10:20 mile. I actually ran a steady 10:20 mile. No speedy gonzales presto-chango-ing into the tortoise. No walking. Solid running. Two thirds of the course was up"hill" (not uphill in a car, but DEFINITELY uphill running). It was over 75 degrees out by the time we finished. This little sissy indoor air conditioning treadmill with the TV on runner had shin splints from hell for 2 days after. They're gone now.
Did I say hell? I mean heaven. Planning my next one for September. I'm gonna do it in under 30 minutes next time.

Hell.
The thing my husband used to be married to has been stealing money from us via the kids school tuition for the last several years.
Heaven.
She committed fraud (and possibly tax fraud) to do it. :) The smile? Finally, someone is going to tell her "No. You can't act like this." And it might even be a judge.

Heaven.
The people in my life.

Hell.
My cats are fighting like raccoons. They are where I go when I get stressed. I am experiencing way too much anxiety about this.

Hell.
Peeling wallpaper off the bathroom walls. UGH. I'm ready to never do that project again in my whole life.

Heaven.
The way the finished bathroom will look. :)

And there it is. Life as it currently stands.

Back to the CDs

2010-06-22T11:12:00.002-04:00

And here I am on CD2.

It's hard to ignore that I would have been 19weeks yesterday.

But oh well. Water over the dam, under the bridge, spilled milk and all that, right?

So we've got one of the two mandatory cycles down.

But the good news is that my body did it all on its own. That, I suppose, is something deserving a small smile.

Things that I can (and cannot) fathom

2010-06-17T19:54:00.003-04:00

I may have mentioned that we had our priest over for dinner last night. While he was here, I was able to ask him about a question my brother and I have been chatting back and forth about. It's something I have some experience in and have dealt with before, but experience makes it no less hard. Namely, forgiveness. It's easy to forgive someone who asks us to. Or it ought to be. Love always hopes for restoration. But how do we actually, actively, deliberately forgive someone who does not ask for it, and who continues to harm?

In my life presently, I'm talking about the Ex, the "Un" I mentioned a few days ago. The harms just keep coming and I walk a very fine line between anger and hatred. I don't want to fall from one, which is just, into another, which is never, at present, just.

He used an interesting image. He said, "Imagine that every wrong she does you is like a flaming arrow. It's going to hurt. It's going to burn. Of course it is. And of course you're going to be angry, and of course you might rant to J. But you have to let those little fires go out." Don't keep fanning the flame. In one sense, we have to keep a record of wrongs. We have to keep track of the relationship, especially when it comes to the kids. But in our internal life, we have to leave each rock thrown wherever it lands. We can't pick it up and carry it with us. We certainly cannot throw it back. And we must actively hope, not only for our sakes, but hers, that the arrows and rocks stop coming.

I can fathom that. I can learn to do that.

I have a harder time with the dictates of biology. My stepdaughter started her period this week. She is nine. Nine. She still believes in the tooth fairy. She is in every way a child and yet nature already makes it possible for her to bear one. WHAT? Does that sounds incredibly young to anyone else? I mean, I'm no yardstick of normalcy. I was sixteen. But nine?

I feel like a baseball bat just collided with my head. Not in a painful way, but in a sit-down-on-a-step-and-let-my-head-spin-for-a-sec way.

Now really, where in my mind do I put that?

Oh. I ovulated 12 days ago. Right smack in the middle of a 3-day "stint" (if you catch my drift). My doc would throttle me if she knew. I was told in no uncertain terms that we were to avoid such a thing. In my defense, virtually none of my typical preovulation symptoms showed up. Aside, ahem, from the "drive" that brought about the "stint". :-D So I didn't know it was coming and didn't know it had until a couple days later when my temperatures started to rise. Eight days later, I registered a significant temperature dip. It's risen every day since then. I've been tracking my temperatures for a year and it's only done that twice. Once led to nothing. The other was on February 28th. I'm only barely hoping and not really expecting anything. But, well. you know how it goes.

Sigh.

It feels like second best. But hey. :)

2010-06-16T23:36:00.003-04:00

Hey M! GUESS WHAT?! No, not that. Not this time.

But we had Fr. Nicholas over for dinner tonight. About 15 minutes before he gets here, J casually says, "So, we'll tell him we're ready to be chrismated?"

I was chopping things. I am glad I only froze, and didn't start jumping up and down.

:-D

We're going to be Orthodox. For real.

Oh yeah, and M, there's a something I want to talk to you about. I was trying to wait until you were huge and pregnant before requiring you to play another major role in my life, but J went and mucked the timing all up. You're partially off the hook.

What a funny blog. It's more of a letter, isn't it?

I don't know when. We don't have a date. But I've been ready for this for at least 3 years.

Oh, and B. Wanna drive up for it? Just for fun?

Just wanted to put these somewhere...

2010-06-16T16:30:00.002-04:00

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself." - CSL

"A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is... A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in." - CSL

It turned into a post on insanity

2010-06-13T12:27:00.004-04:00

You might have noticed a certain crumbling in my last post. There's no more of that going on. Heh. Not that certain people aren't still infuriating and certain losses aren't still making themselves known from time to time. But I'm feeling better about it. Thankful for that.

Had an encounter with the Unwoman. (J's ex. If you've ever read Perelandra you'll know why I call her that.) I don't even know how to begin explaining the conversation. Basically, we need to get the summer schedule with the kids nailed down. (Nailing anything down is something she balks at. She always wants the option to change her mind, so we never know anything about her schedule until the last minute. It's a bastardization of the notion of liberty. She wants to have so much freedom that she can't choose anything, lest she be obligated to live by that choice. But then, of course, she can't ever actually do anything. She'd be a fascinating case study. In a book. Have I mentioned that she is a real live, diagnosed Narcissist?)

So she and J have been screaming over the phone at each other. Because they can't talk about anything.

So J and I decided that we would take another tack with her. Basically, I talked to her for about a half hour the other day. The approach I took is not typing fodder. It would take pages. But it worked. But I left feeling like a nuke had gone off in my brain. It defies explanation - the way she sees the world. I have never, ever, ever seen anything like it. I basically took every insult and insanity she dished out. Every bullshit nonsense totally crazy thing she said, I granted. And we were "allies" by the end. But, she is in charge of this alliance, don't you forget it. *roll eyes*

I used to be manipulative. I squash that tendency in myself every time I see it. But I played her. And I hate it. But what are you supposed to do with someone who will not use reason? She would deny the sky is blue if she thought it would suit her purposes.

I made the mistake at one point of saying "we", referring to J & I regarding the kids (like, "we have them on this date"). She informed me in no uncertain terms that, "There is no 'we'. This has nothing to do with you." I said, "But I am married to him." And she said, "Maybe you're 'married' to him, but this has nothing to do with you. There is no 'we'. You're not mentioned in any of the paperwork and you're not one of their parents."

sigh. Silently granted. (But REALLY?!?!?)

Have I mentioned that she has told the kids' friends to call me Miss (maiden name)? That she refuses to use my married name when she talks about me?

OK. Here's an example of just madness. My brother is getting married in 3 weeks. The kids are in the wedding. She was wanting to get the kids after the wedding on that Saturday. I'm like, "well, the reception might not be over until late." And the conversation went like this, verbatim.

Un: Affronted: "See? I don't even know when this this will be over. Nobody has even told me when the reception is going to end."
Me: "Well, I don't know when the reception will end."
Un: sneering "Nobody ever knows when the reception will end." Like I'm an idiot.

*blink*

Ugh. Anyhow. Enough poison. At first, driving away from that conversation, I felt so sick. Like I'd just bathed in something vile. Badness that is as deep as hers is bewildering.

But now I'm feeling more empowered. There's something about seeing evil so clearly that's almost a comfort. It's clear what it is and what it isn't. And it's so ugly that there's no question of being drawn in by accident. She's been personally attacking me for weeks and I'm not gonna lie, it gets stuck in my head. I start wondering, almost. Or at least responding. When I dress the kids in the morning (or help them, rather) I found myself saying to myself, "See, their clothes are just fine. They're not all wrinkly or full of holes. They fit. They're clean." Which is the opposite of what she's been saying to me via text message for weeks. She actually brought a change of clothes to my stepson's school and changed him in the middle of the day because the dress shirt and khakis I'd sent him in weren't good enough. And I know she's wrong, but still, I found myself wanting to justify myself to an insane person.

Having spoken to her, face to face, for even 20 minutes has cured me of that.

I hadn't meant to write all of this. But here it is written. Maybe some things need purging?

The other crazy lady is still refusing to pay me. *pursing lips*

I changed the blog background. Years of brown were fine. But hey, why not pink for a little?

I have more to say, but methinks this blog is long enough. Maybe another time.

The days have gotten progressively better since Wednesday.

Pieces

2010-06-09T13:51:00.002-04:00

I am having a hard time.

First, there's all that. Which we hardly need to go into, because you already know. Oh, but today I found out another dear friend of mine is pregnant and due in November. Thrilling, and I'm truly ecstatic for her. Truly. But I'm not going to lie. I got in my car and cried.

Then, there's J's ex wife. She is giving me fits. Personal attacks on me, using the kids, harming them to get at us, etc etc etc. She is evil, and far beyond the misfortune of a few months ago, she is the greatest thing in my life that makes me wonder about the justice of the universe. How are such people to be tolerated? How does God go on, watching them, unblinking? I'm buzzed. I know the anwer to that. But I'm angry, strike that, furious, and I'm hurting, so stuff bubbles out.

Then, there's this crazy woman I do work for. The long and short of it is that she's not paid me since February and is presently withholding that money until she gets out of me all the contacts, data, etc, I use to do my job. I know she's replacing me from other sources. Not from her. I don't care. She's a pain in the neck and I'm up for something new anyhow. But she's like a lite version of J's ex and I'm slowly going mad dealing with the both of them.

And my kitties are at each other's throats, literally. They're my babies, and one is always trying to kill the other and it's breaking my heart.

I am not a conflict-happy person. I feel totally under attack from all sides and I'm tired.

So again I say,

give us this day our daily bread...
and forgive us our trespasses...
as we forgive those who trespass against us...

Resolved

2010-06-03T09:26:00.002-04:00

I've been going in for blood work every Friday for the last... how many weeks? Six? I'm not even sure really. I'm not sure why they wanted to monitor my hormone levels so closely, but they wanted to be certain of when the pregnancy had "resolved", or when my hcg levels were below 5. Recall, they were at 70,000 on April 14th.

My results from last Friday are 4.6. The pregnancy has "resolved". For the first time since the end of February, I am no longer in any way pregnant.

I'm not sure why they call it "resolved".

I don't really want to talk about how the sadness lingers still, though not constantly. I don't want to sit here for too long and say how hard it is to pass silly landmarks in time. I don't like to realize that I'd be showing by now. The word "missing" is one that hardly needs saying.

So I'll say that it's nice having my energy back. That's what took the longest. Between the hormones and the sadness, all of April and most of May has been a bit of a whammy. But, I can finally run without thinking seriously of just laying down on the moving treadmill. I actually ran 2 miles on Tuesday. I haven't done anything close to that since my 5k at the end of Feb. I've signed up for another 5k on July 3rd. There's a half marathon in November that I might shoot for. Being honest, I don't care a whit for it at the moment, but maybe by then I will.

We start trying again in September.

Blessed

2010-05-07T08:42:00.004-04:00

I had to have more contractions induced earlier this week. Severe pain over last weekend brought me to the ultrasound room again on Monday. There was still a huge piece left to pass, and my body just couldn't get it to go on it's own. Contractions all Tuesday night and I think it's finally over.

I'm generally OK. Still quite sad, but taking day by day by day, and finding mercy every morning and comfort when I need it.

But. A dear friend of mine found out on the same day I did that she was pregnant. We were due the same day. She found out last night that the baby had died at 9 weeks 3 days.

Ache.

And yet we both find ourselves singing this:

I would be remiss if I failed to mention that we have been friends since 5th grade, but we didn't speak for 5 of the last 6 years. We failed each other, miserably, deeply, my Junior year in college. We were fully reconciled this past fall, and the resurrection of this friendship is one of many big reasons that I believe that anything can be redeemed.

Three years ago

2010-04-29T15:41:00.006-04:00

Three years ago today I was on a plane heading to Savannah, GA, with my brand new husband.

Three years ago yesterday, I walked down the aisle and got the best gift ever: him.

Nadia

2010-04-25T12:34:00.004-04:00

I've not been feeling very "wordy" lately. But I want to mark this all down, in case I want to remember someday, and today is not a heavy day so far, so perhaps this is a good day.

I've been thinking a lot about loss. I've been lucky so far in my life. All my grandparents are alive. My parents, sibling, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends are alive. I've not suffered any sort of loss that would require this sort of grief process. So I'm finding it surprising. It's very weird how I can go days and be fine, fine, fine, and then suddenly ka-wham I'm not fine. And sometimes the not-fine sticks, and sometimes it just keeps rolling by.

I'm looking at this experience and I'm glad I chose to go this route. The medically induced otherwise natural miscarriage route. I'm still glad I didn't have a D&C, even if I'm still bleeding and cramping 8 days later. I'm proud of myself last weekend. I drove for over an hour through one nearly constant contraction. My mom said to me the day after, "I don't know, but that sounded a lot like labor to me. If you ask me, if you can drive through that, you'll be fine when there's a baby at the other end." Hwah. Yeahhhh. *flexing biceps* (although the biceps were the most unaffected set of muscles, haha)

An hour of hellish driving. 7 more hours of Vicodin-relieved cramping, heavy bleeding, and sleeping. 7 more days of bleeding. That's the losing.

That's the easy part.

It's the loss that presses in at unexpected moments, keeps rolling, keeps emphasizing its own finality that's hard to carry. The losing was over quickly. The loss is a road that disappears over the next hill.

(Thankfully, though, my body doesn't seem to be about to drag it out ad infinitum. I went in for bloodwork on Friday, and while my hcg was over 70,000 last week, it had dropped down to 10,000 a week after the miscarriage started. 1000 would have been awesome, but 10,000 is OK. It's a good indication that I'm looking at weeks, rather than months, before my hormones drop back to 0. Yay.)

But I'll say this. I have a friend at work who lost a baby 3 years ago under very similar circumstances. She named what she imagined was a daughter. I've thought about this and I don't see there ever being a time when I refer to this lost child by name. I don't think I'll ever hear myself saying, "Back before (name) died." Or any such thing. I talked to J and he wasn't keen on the idea. He said, "What if you give it a girl name and you meet it someday and it's a boy?" Men. :)

But this child gave its mother something in the short time it was here with us. It gave me hope. And hope is a virtue traditionally depicted in the feminine form. So in the deep places of this mother's heart, I have named her a slavic name (I studied Russian in high school and have always loved the language) which means hope. It's a small whisper of thanks, a nod as I aquiesce to the dictates of biology, and a reminder, always, to hope.

(And if it was a son, I hope he forgives me the sissy girl name. (Haha. Makes me think of that song, "My name is Sue. How do you do?!"))

Moving on

2010-04-20T09:15:00.002-04:00

It's over, and that's a relief, really.

It's very odd to consider that a month ago I was pregnant. Technically, I was pregnant 3 days ago as well. But to be pregnant with what you believe is a live baby is very different from being pregnant with what you know is an empty space. Not physically different. But different. I miscarried at 10 weeks. But that was a fluke. I lost that little life at about 5 or 6 weeks. I guess what I'm trying to say, badly, is just that it's weird.

But it's over now, and that is a relief.

What follows is blood work til my hcg gets back to 0. Then, 2 cycles where we're not allowed to try. Then, we go back to the IUIs. Each cycle will likely be about 6 weeks, give or take. So that's 12 weeks til we can try again. Three months. July, probably August.

I'm going to say it. Only once. This sucks.

I'm trying to figure out now what I'm going to do with myself between now and then. I've started running again, so perhaps a few races are in store. I'm just hesitant to do long races outside in the heat. (sissy) (I know) But I'll probably do them anyhow.

I need to get my house in order. It's a disaster. That'll probably take all 3 months, hahaha.

Maybe I'll paint the bathroom! (yes, that warrants an exclamation point. It's been needing paint! since I moved in 3 years ago)

The time will pass.

But that's part of the problem. Time keeps on passing.

The beginning

2010-04-17T18:36:00.002-04:00

It's started.

I took the pills this morning. It was supposed to take 24 hours to take effect, but lo, it started 4 hours later. As I was at the baby shower for a good friend. 70 miles away from home.

I was terribly irritated that I had to leave the shower early. I became less irritated on the drive as the cramping came in like a hurricane. 1200 mg of ibuprofen didn't touch it. I talked to my mom on the phone the whole way home about heaven knows what. Sometimes just about breathing. My mom was precisely what I needed her to be and I'm so thankful she was there.

When I finally got home, I downed a Vicodin. I am in love. :)

Even with all the pain, I'm so glad I decided to do it this way. It sounds stupid, because the baby died so long ago. But whatever is left of it is still my child, and I'm glad I'm present and awake as it goes. I saw a little clot at one point and I actually talked to it for a moment. It sounds like madness, I know. But it feels very cleansing.

Maybe it's just the narcotic talking, but this is physically far worse and emotionally far better than I imagined it to be.

(humming) everything's gonna be all right... rockabye... rockabye...

Pang

2010-04-16T10:12:00.003-04:00

What a lovely lovely morning it is here. Sunshine and warm and gorgeous. My kitty is playing with half a plastic easter egg, her favorite toy, and the house is full of her happy yowls.

It's a good day.

I feel a little heavy and sad today, but it's expected and OK. It fits. I opted to put taking the medication off until tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to having things over with. It'll be good, in the end. :)

I'm glad for the extra ultrasound, actually. When the doctor called that morning, I didn't expect, really, to find a baby there. I'd seen the pictures last time. I knew there was nothing there. But the extra reassurance is nice, in a way. I'm a little frustrated with my body for, once again, not doing anything "right", but on the other hand, I smile a little because I feel like if there ever actually is a baby in there, my body will hold onto it like hell. We'll probably have to bribe it to give it up after 9 months.

So there's that. Another pointless post. But there it is.

I'm going to go read a book outside. :)

Really?

2010-04-14T20:40:00.002-04:00

I mean, really? Stop it. Yes, you, body. You. Stop.

So bloodwork yesterday, just to see what my body is up to, trying to figure out why I haven't bled yet.

For some reason, the trip home from the blood lab triggered waterfalls of tears and hiccups. Here's why, I think. Why the tears and hiccups.

(Pardon me while I meander.)

I think I'm handling this whole blighted ovum thing fairly well. I mean, I hate it. But I'm doing OK, overall. Have you ever heard of the palaces of the mind? It's a medieval means of memorizing large quantities of information. The idea is that you assign different topics different rooms and then assign each thing to be remembered a place in the room. It's more complex than that, but you get the general idea. Amazing stuff. These guys memorized entire libraries with this method.

It makes sense to me, because I often remember things, events, etc, in a location-based way. I see things in my mind, and that's how I remember them.

But anyhow. Remember that day, 2 weeks and 2 days ago? Yeah. That day. I've managed to stuff everything sore and sad into the ultrasound room in my memory. Lunch, where we talked about how big the baby would be. The walk from the car to the office. Those moments staring at a silent screen in a silent room. J's face. All those sore-don't-touch-it things are in that room in my memory. And I keep the door shut. I'm not repressing it. I'm keeping it there, where it's safe, and I don't have to trip over it every day. But sometimes that door just starts to swing open...

The blood lab unlatched the door. It swung open. I cried for 2 hours then grabbed myself by the collar and dragged myself to my workout and into the rest of my day. That was yesterday.

Today the doc calls me. She says, "Um. Your hcg levels are enormous." Like 70000+ enormous. Like normal for a 9 week pregnancy. "We're going to need to see you today."

It could be anything, we say to each other. Immediately, the entire month of November is before my eyes and the 14th is a date that doesn't make me want to curl up in a chair for days. But we also know there are other things my body could be busily building, and we don't say those things to each other.

So for 4 hours, J and I wonder again.

And when we get there, the doc asks all the normal questions. "Are you experiencing any pain?" (Does daily cramping, breast pain and exhaustion count?) "Are you experiencing any emotional or physical abuse?" (We both laugh and I say, 'Aside from what my body is currently doing to me?')

Then, up on the table with me. Stirrups, dildo-cam (thanks, V, I steal this from an older post of yours), silence.

And there it is.

The sac. It's bigger than last time, and measures exactly right for 9 weeks, 2 days, which is where I thought I would be.

And there's still nothing in it.

My doc's eyes welled up with tears. Mine didn't. J let it roll off his shoulders. I watched him again, watched the fear of the bad and the hope for the good wash off his features.

The doc talked to another doc, consulted, showed pictures. There were wispy things in the sac this time, but they did some magical color thing to the screen and determined it's just blood.

There is definitely no baby. And my body, damn the poor thing, is industriously building a nest for nothing. "A" for effort, but put the pencil down, honey. This is not a fight that can be won. You could build for three more weeks, but hush, hush, and let it go.

I will get some pills tomorrow that will cause the cervix to soften and the uterus to contract. I have Vicodin prescribed because the size of the sac could cause some significant cramping. It's expanded, you see, just like it should. And it'll be harder to pass now.

What is there to say, really?

2 weeks

2010-04-12T10:14:00.003-04:00

I'm 9w1d pregnant. Technically. Thankfully, aside from a few pesky remaining symptoms, I don't feel it. It's less of a headf*ck that way, and I'm thankful for it.

We'll talk to the doc today or tomorrow to figure out what to do since it hasn't "passed" on its own yet. I know my inclination, but we'll see.

It seems like 2 years ago that we sat in that little room. It seems like a dream, almost, that I was pregnant with a baby at any point. But I was.

And I'm hooked. I so want that feeling back. But I want to keep it next time. Duh. Seems obvious. But it needed saying for some reason.

One thing that's making this so much easier (and I think I've said this before) is that we have something back that had all but gone: hope. I feel like there's a really good chance that it might actually happen again, and maybe not in the too-distant future. There's no way to know, but having a strong suspicion that the wait might end someday makes the wait easier to take. A little.

I'm unwrapping my heart from November. Aside from hoping that I can be sick and miserable again by then.

This is a very strange experience.

These days

2010-04-05T13:50:00.002-04:00

God was just so nice to me. A friend I've been wanting very much to see is coming into town. I'm actually blubbering like an idiot about it. :)

Comfort comes, it does.

I was sitting in the car a short time ago remembering this time last week. We'd had lunch and were killing time in a book store before the appointment. Then we drove to the office and I took J's hand and said, "Ready to go see our little blueberry?"

I look back and I'm surprised that at no time was I surprised. I don't even remember a moment of understanding. There was just stillness on that screen, darkness, and I slowly just knew. I cried before my brain even kicked in.

Last week was weird. There were solid days of "This will be OK, we can do this, and there's hope for the future, finally." And there were days of just tears tears tears.

I told J that really, if this cycle, this Jan 30th cycle, was going to end in blood, I would rather it be this than just another period. And I still mean that. We have something back that had all but withered away: hope. There is no fear in this, and that makes it better in a way.

But there is just loss. Loss that just sits on my chest like a rock. And the days are getting harder because the loss is not new, does not sting, does not throb. It's just emphatic.

I'm not going to lie and say I don't ask why. But it's so personal. I'm thankful, in a way, because God has rarely felt so near, and so personal to me. And there are times that there comes bubbling out of me, "How could you? How could you let this happen?" And it sounds like anger, but anger is often just the voice that pain uses. Anger wants an answer. Pain isn't looking for information. Pain doesn't mean the questions it asks. It's looking for something else.

And I do find what I'm looking for. Every time I turn around, it seems. It does not give me back that baby, cannot give me back my baby, and God I wanted that baby.

It's exactly like CS Lewis said, "When I lay these questions before God, I get no answer. But a rather special sort of 'no answer.' It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate gaze. As though he shook his head not in refusal but in waiving the question. Like, 'Peace, child; you do not understand.'"

I don't need to understand. The concrete facts are solid before me and I don't need an explanation. What I do need, though, is being poured out in bucketfulls.

They say it's Pascha

2010-04-03T21:07:00.002-04:00

There's this rumor going around Christendom, and that's that tonight is Pascha.

My favorite night of the year. You might recall, I started counting the days down to it immediately last year.

I'm just not feeling terribly Pascha-y.

I haven't fasted. Not even today.

I lost a baby this week. And my body still hasn't caught on (aside from being able to stomach broccoli again - I'd lost that ability for several weeks). And I'm riding this absolutely wild emotional rollercoaster.

Yesterday was fine. Today, not fine.

We're going anyhow, to be sure, and I'm sure I won't regret it.

But yeah. This is a "I need a hug" day.

I suppose, looking at it objectively, that today is the perfect day for Pascha.

Holy Friday

2010-04-02T10:59:00.004-04:00

These are my favorite days.

Heaven bends so near. There is nothing that cannot be borne these days.

shhhhhhh... Steady now. He is dying, and we with Him...

Christ the Tiger

2010-04-01T14:24:00.003-04:00

I have been reading and rereading this passage for about a week now. It has grabbed me this Holy Week. It is written by Thomas Howard and (spoiler alert) is the conclusion of his book Christ the Tiger. It is long. It is worth it.

…In the figure of Jesus we saw Immanuel, that is, God, that is, Love. It was a figure who, appearing so inauspiciously among us, broke up our secularist and our religious categories, and beckoned us and judged us and damned us and saved us, and exhibited to us a kind of life that participates in the indestructible. And it was a figure who announced the validity of our eternal effort to discover significance and beauty beyond inanition and horror by announcing to us the unthinkable: redemption.

It was a figure we could neither own nor manage. We claimed it as our special possession, and exacted tribute and built shrines and established forms in which to incarcerate it, only to discover that it had fled. It would not be enshrined. It was the figure of a man, and a man must live and walk with other men or die, and this man was alive. He scorned our scruple to shelter him and to prop up his doctrine. What he spoke, he spoke loudly and freely, and his words were their own defense. When we tried to help things by urging sweetness and light, or by interdicting what looked threatening, or by tithing mint, anise, and cumin, or by devising rituals and nonrituals, we found him towering above us, scorching our efforts into clinkers, and recalling us to wildness and risk and humility and love. Just at the moment when we thought we had guaranteed our own standing in his good favor by organizing an airtight doctrine or a flawless liturgy or an unassailable morality, he escaped us, and returned with his hammer to demolish things. Try as we might, we could not own him. We could not protect him. We could not incarcerate him. For he always emerged as our judge, exposing our cynicism and fright by the candor and boldness of his love. He tore our secularist schemes to ribbons by announcing doom and our religious schemes to tatters by announcing love.

He appeared as a man and demonstrated a kind of life wholly foreign to all of our inclinations. For he showed us what a man’s life is like when it is energized by caritas, and in doing this, he became our judge, because we knew too well that it is that other love, cupiditas, that energizes us. He told us of a city, the City of God, in which caritas rules. He told us that all who participate in this are citizens of that city.

We experienced this announcement as both death-dealing and life-giving. It was death-dealing because we knew our own incorrigible cupidity – the energy that makes us shriek for the shovel in the sandbox, cut into the ticket line, rush for the subway seat, display our prowess, parade our clothes, and pursue delights regardless of prior considerations.

We remembered our own torrid yearning, for instance, for other bodies, and our insistence that we must seek satisfaction at all costs because this was such an ecstatic bliss. And he said to us, yes, yes, yes, you are quite right, another body is the most beautiful thing in the world. This kind of congress is ecstatic bliss, but your unexamined pursuit of this will, irony of ironies, dehumanize you, for it is a failure to ask the questions that must be asked – questions about the imago Dei in you and your partner, questions about sex as a form of knowledge that requires a high warrant, questions about sex as a metaphor of realities that lie at the heart of everything, and questions about the undying notion in all of us of sex as significant and binding and most holy.

And what is true here is true in all regions of experience. Your mad pursuit is for freedom and intensity and bliss. It is natural. But, by a wry irony at work in the world, the pursuit leads you into a prison where your agony is to become more and more insistent that things shall be as you wish, and less and less able to cope with denial.

But I show you a different way. It is an alien and a frightening one. It is called Love. It asks that you forswear your busy effort to collect the bits of bliss and novelty that lie about. It asks that you disavow your attempt to enlarge your own identity by diminishing that of others. It asks that you cease your effort to safeguard your own claim to well-being by assuming the inferiority of others’ claims. It asks, actually, that you die.

For, paradoxically, it offers to you your own best being beyond this apparent immolation of yourself. It says that the cupidity energizing all your efforts is the principle that governs wherever hell is found, and that the dwellers in that realm are a withered host of wraiths, doomed to an eternal hunt for solidity and fulfillment among the shards that lie underfoot. This is not your best being. You were meant to find your home in the City of God, which is among you. Here duty is ecstasy. For that is what is meant by caritas: it is the freedom which follows upon the capacity to experience as joy what you are given to do.

But the City is not reached in a moment. It is as remote as the Towers of Trebizond, and as near as your neighbor.

And we experienced his announcement as death dealing again, because it knocked over all the little pickets and wickets that we had tapped carefully into place to guarantee the safety of our religion. He saw our masses and rosaries and prayer meetings and study groups and devotions, and he said yes, yes, yes, you are quite right to think that goodness demands rigor and vigilance and observance, but your new moons and Sabbaths and bullocks and altars and vestments and Gospel teams and taboos and Bible studies are trumpery, and they nauseate me because you have elevated them, and I alone am the Host. Your incense is foetid, and your annotated Bibles are rubbish paper. Your meetings are a bore and your myopic exegesis is suffocating. Return, return, and think again what I have asked of you: to follow justice, and love mercy, and do your job of work, and love one another, and give me the worship of your heart – your heart – and be merry and thankful and lowly and not pompous and gaunt and sere.

But we experienced the announcement as live-giving because it was an announcement, appearing in a dirty barn, and heard among the dry provincial hills and then in the forum of Rome and in the halls of royal princes and in the kitchens and streets of Paris and Calcutta and Harlem and Darien, that Joy and not Havoc is the last word. It announced to us what we could not hope. It saw limitation and contingency and disparity and irrevocability and mutability and decay and death, and it said yes, yes, yes, you are quite right: terror and horror and despair are the only eventually realistic responses … if this is all there is to it. But it is not.

You have thought of a world free from such conditions. In all your imaginings, and in your myths and your mime and your songs and dances and epics – in your quest for form and significance and beauty beyond fragmentation and inanition and chaos – you have bespoken such a vision. I announce it to you. Here, from this stable, here, from this Nazareth, this stony beach, this Jerusalem, this market place, this garden, this praetorium, this Cross, this mountain, I announce it to you.

I announce to you what is guessed at in all the phenomena of your world. You see the corn of wheat shrivel and break open and die, but you expect a crop. I tell you of the Springtime of which all springtimes speak. I tell you of the world for which this world groans and towards which it strains. I tell you that beyond the awful borders imposed by time and space and contingency, there lies what you seek. I announce to you life instead of mere existence, freedom instead of frustration, justice instead of compensation. For I announce to you redemption. Behold I make all things new. Behold I do what cannot be done. I restore the years that the locusts and worms have eaten. I restore the years which you have drooped away upon your crutches and in your wheel-chair. I restore the symphonies and operas which your deaf ears have never heard, and the snowy massifs your blind eyes have never seen, and the freedom lost to you through plunder, and the identity lost to you because of calumny and the failure of justice; and I restore the good which your own foolish mistakes have cheated you of. And I bring you to the Love of which all other loves speak, the Love which is joy and beauty, and which you have sought in a thousand streets and for which you have wept and clawed your pillow...

Bear with me

2010-03-31T16:04:00.002-04:00

There may be a flurry of entries from me for a while. I don't know.

I'm just so sad today. Yesterday was OK. Today, I just can't pull my mind out of the memory of those ten minutes in the ultrasound room. Watching J realize what wasn't there. Ugh.

The irony is that I don't want to carry my own pain, but find that I can. And I want more than anything to carry his, and can't.

Cheated

2010-03-31T10:13:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was a surprisingly good day. I sat in a comfy chair all day with a Law and Order: SVU marathon on in the background. A friend sent flowers. I ate macaroni and cheese.

I felt optimistic. Disappointed and sad and occasionally tackled by sudden bouts of tears that just as suddenly stopped. But OK.

The nurses that I primarily talk to (who I'm actually referring to when I mention the "doc") called. The one I spoke with said that the other told her to call because she was the least likely to cry. They were very supportive and very optimistic about the future. We know I can conceive. We know my body knows what to do.

So when it comes to all that, I'm feeling relatively OK. Unhappy, but peaceful.

But that is presently conflating with another issue that is turning me into a little dark raincloud today.

I look forward to Lent and Holy Week and Pascha all year. The fast, deepening, the Holy Week, deepening, the services, the Pascha. This year, I got a week of the fast before having to give it up for, as it turns out, nothing. I'd planned to go to every service this week and now can go to none save Friday and Saturday. And we can't figure out which church to even go to for Friday and Saturday's services because the one we went to for several services last year and loved is over an hour away and full of people we don't know, and the one that's closer is full of people who have no desire to know us and is dry and frustrating.

And so I'm feeling a little cheated.

Like I said. Little gray rain cloud.

**Edit. J & I talked about it and I'm going to be able to make it to the Thursday service. I feel much better knowing that.

Give us this day...

2010-03-30T09:08:00.003-04:00

...our daily bread...

The heart breaks quietly. I didn't feel it at first. And then I did.

That stupid little ultrasound room, silent. The doctor zooming in, zooming out, rolling through the layers (so I assume), again, again, again. And there was just darkness. I knew very quickly that there was no heartbeat. I was just praying, praying, that it was just too small to see still. But it became clear that there was nothing there to see. I am pregnant with nothing.

I asked why I haven't miscarried yet, since the baby is long gone. He said he didn't know, but that if it doesn't happen within the next 2 weeks, I should call.

He said that because there's not even a visible embryo there, I shouldn't have to go through a D&C. It'll just be like a really heavy period. Probably a good deal of cramping. But there won't be tissue.

He said that he's very optimistic. He said it happened very quickly for us (the pregnancy).

I laughed louder than I meant to. I think I sobbed somewhere in the middle. I said, "27 months is quickly?!"

He said he meant it only took 2 tries with the IUI. So he believes that there is every reason to believe that we will become pregnant again.

He said the pregnancy itself was healthy.

I stared at him.

He said my body did everything right. I conceived and my body responded well.

There was just something very wrong with the embryo and nature took its course.

I didn't lose a healthy baby. Nature took something that couldn't have lived.

We will have to wait two cycles and then we will try again.

We knew this was a possibility. We knew that 1 in 5 pregnancies end this way. We were somewhat prepared for it. But we still really don't like it.

The most insulting thing? My body still believes it's pregnant, so I'm still nauseous and tired and sore and swollen. And may remain so for 2 more weeks.

Give us this day our daily bread...

Letter to the lost

2010-03-29T16:09:00.002-04:00

My dear (tiny) little one,

We went to see you today, our little "blueberry", half me, half your father.

But you weren't there.

We saw a large dark spot, get bigger, smaller, move here, move there. Definitely a pregnancy sac, and definitely empty.

You've been gone a while, he said.

I want to explain to you why you can't be here with us, but I suspect that if you can understand anything at all, you understand this far far better than I do.

So I'll tell you only the thing that I do know. And that's that these weeks with you have been one of the greatest pleasures of my life, and I have treasured you.

Your mother loves you; loved you before you were conceived, loved you for every moment you were here with us, and will love you always.

Sleep well, child. I will see you in the Morning.

234

2010-03-24T20:13:00.002-04:00

With approximately 234 days left in this little adventure, otherwise known as being 6w3d pregnant (really? I'm still blown away that I get to use that word), I am thinking about a few things.

The first is that while I know that abdominal twinges and cramping are normal, I hate each and every one.

The second is that the world(?)-famous nausea-curing wonder-beverage Ginger Ale is my intestines' worst enemy, which is unfortunate for ye olde tummy...

Which leads me to my third thing. It's going to be a dang hard project to keep this a secret as I spend most (yes, most) of my waking hours tinged an elegant, no, delicate, shade of green. Very Eastery, really. Very season-appropriate and festive. But noticeable, ya know?

Which leads me to my fourth thing. I now understand what "cravings" are and I believe that that word is utterly inappropriate. You crave water on a hot day. You crave chocolate when you're sad or pissy. This is not that. This is being starving and being unable to eat anything but maybe, just maybe... ahhhhh, blueberries! And so, blueberries must be eaten. Because if you don't eat, you'll die. And if you eat anything else, it'll get stuck in your throat. If you're lucky.

I'm learning things. And I'm so dang thankful for all this misery it's ridiculous.

Which leads me to my fifth thing. Thankfulness. Only a few of my friends at work know "the news" and apparently two were discussing it amongst themselves. One passed on to me what the other said. Apparently there were happy tears involved (happy tears for me? It's so amazing I feel like I could just puff up and float away) and one said, "It's been such a long time, but it was bound to happen. All those prayers had to have been going somewhere."

Now, there are bits of that statement that I don't know how to speak to. I don't know how to match up specific prayers with specific events in the world. I don't know how to say why now, why not before, why not later, why me, why not someone else. All those "whys" are just so far beyond me.

But I do know that God hears all prayers.
And I know that He is the giver of all good things.
And I know that all He gives is good.
And I know that these people in my life are gifts. Good gifts.
And this little pea-sized life wreaking havoc on "our" body is a good gift.
And regardless of the specific communication cause and effect, I know where all these things come from.

And I want to stand out under a starry sky and shout "THANK YOU" til my throat is sore.

And while I'm hormonal and sappy, I just wanna say to all 5 of you readers, that I'm thankful, so very much, for you too.

240

2010-03-18T13:58:00.003-04:00

There are 240 days until November 14th, which, according to Babycenter.com, is my approx due date.

I learned today that no matter how good a taco may sound for breakfast, in the long run, it is not a good idea.

Can't say I've been experiencing any nausea per se. I've gone from hungry all the time and eating anything to hungry all the time and not finding anything appealing. The only thing I could imagine happily eating this morning was a taco. Lucky for me, we had tacos earlier this week, so there was leftover meat in the fridge. J turned green as he sipped his coffee and I microwaved the meat. I turned green later. Man, I tasted that thing for hours.

Maybe it's just the novelty of it. But I don't mind at all.

Go team

2010-03-13T11:56:00.002-05:00

I am a team now. Go team.

We went in for blood work again yesterday. My hcg on Wednesday was at 201.6. They wanted to see at least a 60% increase, which they tell me would have put me at 330-something. So they wanted at least 330-something when I went back yesterday. I was awakened by a phone call from my favorite nurse this morning who said, "Hi! Your numbers are beautiful." Hcg is sitting pretty at 460-something.

Go team. :)

Now that you know...

2010-03-11T22:29:00.003-05:00

It was something else, in the bathroom, suddenly being let in on a secret that only God had known. I suppose we all share secrets with God. But that's one set of five minutes that I will always hold near. Just me and Him knowing something small and huge and cool.

My kitties stared at me, my hands over my face, and then at the stick, hoping it was something that maybe they could play with.

The stick stared at me. One word. "Pregnant." No "not" to be seen. I've seen "not" so many times. But not that time.

That was something.

J's face. That was something.

Friday afternoon I felt like I was on the most massive jet lag of my life. Nauseatingly tired. Slept for 2 hours. That was weird. And I thought it was weird. But I know better by now than to really "think" anything.

Saturday morning (13dpo), my temperature jumped. I wasn't expecting my period until Monday, but still. A jump is peculiar. And I thought to myself, "You know, just take a test. That way you won't have to hope all weekend."

I ended up having to hope all weekend. :)

I still am. Hoping.

I'm tired. I'm hungry. That's the funny thing. The hunger. I'm never a hungry person. These days? Hungry. The Fast has gone out the window.

I've never been particularly well endowed, but I'm moving in that direction.

I'm clinging to every sign and symptom, trying to believe that it's real. That everything is going to be OK.

I'm not ecstatic. I'm calm. Optimistic. A little afraid. But what's most noticeable is that something I've carried around for the last 2+ years is just... gone.

Bloodwork was done on Wednesday, 17dpo. My hcg was at 201.6 and my progesterone is at 12. Progesterone is a little low. Not worrisome, but I'm going to go on progesterone supplements just to support the wee mustard seed. More bloodwork tomorrow (Fri). We want the hcg to be in the 300's.

Life is pretty dang funny sometimes.

Ah. Here's the word I'm looking for: Thankful. I am so so so thankful.

Funny how things go

2010-03-11T13:54:00.002-05:00

My blog is entitled “What About November”. I don’t remember if I’ve ever explained why it’s called that. Perhaps I have, and perhaps this is old information. But I’ve been thinking about it recently again.

There is a song called “To Say Thanks” by Nichole Nordeman, and I’d recommend you looking it up (there’s a full version on Lala.com) and giving it a listen. It is a heart wrenching song, heartbreaking, and I heard it first at a time when the very ugly was right before our eyes.

We are told to give thanks in all things. And she wants to know why it’s so damn hard sometimes, and why it just gets harder and harder.

The chorus is something I left behind about a year ago. I don’t ask why anymore. I think it’s both an irrelevant question but with a very obvious answer. We start looking for specific reasons for the rain and we’re liable to read too much into things. I think it just rains. And sometimes it washes us away and sometimes it washes us clean.

There are things that are up to us, and things that just aren’t.

We don’t need to ask what God wants from us, or what He wants us to learn, or what He’s doing. We know. He’s told us already. He wants us to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly. He wants us to learn to love. He is always here.

The second verse says, “Even fields of flowers, dressing in their best because of You, knowing they are blessed to be in bloom… But what about November, when the air is cold and wet winds blow, do they understand why they can’t grow?”

I’ve found myself in 27 months of November, unable to grow anything new. It has rained, it has been cold, I have cried, I have been angry, I have been strong, I have despaired, I have hoped. I have never been alone.

I have been wrong. I have been growing a new me. I have been growing a new family with my husband and stepchildren. I have been growing a new faith.

This journey started in November of 2007. And I imagine a small, wry, pleased smile on the face of my Father as I cross my fingers, cross myself, shake a little, and whisper to you that as things stand right now, another journey will start in November 2010.

I’m pregnant.

(Shhhhhhhh – this isn’t Facebook fodder for a while yet…)

3rd Saturday of Lent

2010-03-06T09:54:00.002-05:00

"Brethren, recall the former days when, after you were enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to abuse and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated. For you had compassion on the prisoners, and you joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one. Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that you may do the will of God and receive what is promised. "For yet a little while, and the coming one shall come and shall not tarry; but my righteous one shall live by faith." - Hebrews 10:32-38

For yet a little while, and the coming one shall come and shall not tarry...

Apolytikion in the Second Tone: O Apostles, martyrs, prophets, hierarchs, righteous, and just ones, who have finished your course well and have kept the Faith: seeing ye have boldness with the Saviour, beseech Him for us, since He is good, that our souls be saved, we pray.

I love Great Lent. There is such a feeling of expectation and excitement even as we struggle. (He is coming! He is coming!)

The Fast has been a little bit of a challenge, but so far, it's also been the best one for me so far. I've been more intentional about what I'm eating - thinking it through, planning it out - and I'm actually feeling not deprived, interestingly, but satisfied. Some of J's friends marched a meat lover's pizza into my house on Wednesday night, and I sure oh sure did feel the fast then. But hey.

I've started noticing things about myself that I've never really seen before. I think somehow I'm more able to hear the little voice in my head that tends to constantly grumble, mutter, and come up with snarky sarcastic retorts. You know that voice? That one that, when you find a sink full of dishes, starts muttering to yourself, "I guess everyone else around here has broken arms... Oh sure, like I have nothing else better to do... Why would he bother..." You know that voice? It chatters away in my head almost constantly. But I realized yesterday that a good amount of the time, it's coming up with utterly contradictory complaints. If the kids are playing video games, it grumbles that they're too lazy to do anything else. If they want to play games with people or do projects, it grumbles that they're incapable of entertaining themselves. Good lord a'mighty. No wonder I get so grouchy. I'm impossible to please.

So I'm learning to tell that little voice that if it can't say anything nice, it can just shut the hell up. :)

The run

2010-02-28T18:37:00.002-05:00

So, I did it.

The stats:
31:29 total time
31st place out of 64 runners
2nd of 13 in my age division
16th of 39 women
Splits: 10:15, 11:03, 10:33

I am pleased about some things. I am pleased I did it. I'm pleased at my standings.

I am pleased that the size M pants I bought for the occasion turned out to be too large. :)

I am surprised at my times. I've been training at 9 minute mile pace, and had sort of expected something like that for my race. I ran/walked 3 miles on Wednesday in 28:20.

I think the largest contributing factor to the slower time was my inability to pace myself without the treadmill to do it for me. I'd planned to run outside several times before this race, but what with the mountains of snow and the tendonitis, I didn't get to it. This was the first time I'd run outside since I was 16 years old. I have no idea what a 9 minute mile actually feels like.

Next time, I will have many outside runs under my belt. I found out I don't mind running in the cold. It was just fine. I will also wear a watch next time to help me keep track of my pace every quarter mile.

The cool part? Kicking it into high gear for the last half mile.

Plus, I got a sweet shirt.

I've got my eye on another 5k at the end of April. The plan is a half marathon in Philadelphia in November. I think I'm hooked.

gulp

2010-02-25T14:08:00.002-05:00

Have I mentioned I'm one of the cheapest people in the world? Not that I don't spend money. I do. I have a family. They need feeding from time to time. But I cringe. And I never spend money on something I intend to throw away.

That alone will guarantee that I will actually be running a 5k on Sunday. I just filled out the registration and clicked "submit". And then I called the host hotel and booked J and I a room. So we're going.

And I'm gonna do it.

finally

2010-02-22T15:05:00.002-05:00

Great Lent started 7 days ago. I was not ready, hadn't thought about it, and had to come to the difficult decision to wait to start it.

This is my Cheesefare Week. The last meat I ate was yesterday, a phenomenal red snapper. I find that I'm ready for this and so excited. I know that this year it's springing more out of my need to find comfort, and whether that's good enough is something I'm not sure of. But where else to find comfort than the Comforter? And how better to find him than shoulder to shoulder with all saints, living and dead, walking with Him through the last 40 days before our victory was won?

I find in Lent the nearness not just of my God, but of all the saints. They seem right here. And it sounds like madness, but my mind's eye is nearly always seeing the banners and hearing the music of the Triumphant.

There is a temptation here to use this gift we've been given and try to turn it into a bargaining chip. "God, what if I did the full fast, all of it, and threw myself at the feet of Saint Anne and promised to..." "Would you give me a child then?" "What if I proved I deserve to be a mother, somehow, by..." "I would walk 10000 miles. How about that?"

But that's not what this is for. This is about being prepared, no matter the circumstance, to be strong, and faithful, and thankful, and courageous, and ready to meet him at the cross, the tomb, and the upper room. It's not just mothers who see the face of God. The barren can find Him too.

Being a mother will not save my soul. But what I choose to do about the outcome, either way, can.

I was laying in bed yesterday afternoon in tears, the ugly kind, trying to figure out how to face the rest of my life without the dream, or the reality of children. Trying to wrap my head around a door shutting on not just pregnancy and babies, but first days of kindergarten, school plays, soccer games, homecomings, proms, weddings. Grandchildren. The loss is gargantuan. And I was asking, out loud, "How am I supposed to carry this? I don't know how to do this."

And the answer came at once, and so clearly. And I don't know the immediate source of it, but I do know who to give the credit to.

Yes you do.

And I do. I carry the trouble of today, today. I cry when I need to. I allow myself to be buoyed by hope when I can. We're only ever asked to carry each moment as it comes. Someday when I am old, I may mourn still as my friends have grandchildren. But I don't have to carry that today.

And I polish and shine the gifts I have.

I just don't want to do this. I just don't want to hear, finally, "no."

"Take this cup away from me, if you will." Does this sound familiar? The cup isn't always taken, but comfort is sent, if we will have it. Lord help me see it.

eleventh hour

2010-02-21T15:14:00.003-05:00

I had an LH surge yesterday. CD22. So, after a great deal of mad scrambling to get my stepkids taken care of (HUGE props to my future SIL), we actually made it to the appointment 1.5 hours away at 7:30 this morning.

The procedure itself went well. The swimmies are swimming. And so we hope.

But what with it being a Sunday and nobody being in the entire building besides us and the nurse, we had a good long time to chat through our situation.

J's number of moving swimmers today was at 2.5 million. They want, at minimum, 5 million. But all you need, really, is 1 to make it. So not impossible, but not good.

But then we started talking about "the next step". Basically, you can be on the kind of meds I've been on (Clomid and Femara) for 12 ovulatory cycles safely. After that, they start to worry about long term damage to the ovaries. This was our eleventh cycle. We have one more left after this.

Then, we'd be looking at superovulation meds, which operate directly on the ovaries and essentially guarantee ovulation and known timing of ovulation. It takes the body out of nature's hands and puts it in the doc's. We'd then pair it with the same IUI method we've been using. You can do this indefinitely without any known side effects. Aside from the $2000/month that it would cost, the main problem is that it won't help if there are problems on the daddy's side.

There are problems. First, there's the overall number of motile sperm. That's way low. But we also learned today that morphology is a major problem. As in, only 3% of the motile sperm are properly shaped. So, we have 3% of half the ideal number for a successful IUI. What's that? Someone else do the math and tell me. What's 3% of 50%?

With male problems like that, IVF is the only viable option, short of just sort of winging it and hoping for the best. First, that costs about $10,000 at the outset (can that possibly be right?!?), plus another 2 grand for every "frozen" implantation thereafter. Second, what if we end up with, say, 8 viable embryos?

All I can say today is that I'm aching. There is a very real chance that next month is the last chance.

And all I'm going to say right now is "please".

the acceptable time

2010-02-19T08:53:00.004-05:00

It's been a rough week. I have been frustrated, and sad, and frustrated, and feeling so very alone. My body has frustrated me, my husband has frustrated me, etc etc, blah blah blah. But it's also been a good week, looking back. Externally at least. I have been and done, mostly, what I want to be and do.

Yesterday I was the sort of stepmom I want to be. After school, I helped one with her homework while chitchatting with the other. Then, I built a block tower with the redhead while chitchatting with his sister. Then, she and I made brownies in Christmas molds, which delighted her. And me. Now I have brownies to eat. Both kids were bathed, the kitchen was cleaned, a delicious dinner was made, the kitchen was cleaned again, and both kids were tucked in bed on time. Both were skipping and singing on their way. Happy kids are the "A" on the day's report card.

I'm not sure why this is, but it always seems to be times when I'm lowest that I seem to be the most patient and able to focus on the needs of other people around me. I'm really not sure how that works out. But I'm grateful.

Last night was an anniversary for me. Eight years ago, something particularly negative occurred in my life. It wasn't out of the blue, though it was unexpected. And I won't be daft and say that everything was fine before it. I wasn't fine. But let's use this image: it was the wrecking ball that eventually brought down an already decaying building.

But today, I'm sort of thankful for it. Not that I'd sign up for a repeat. But consider. I'll say all the traditional things that people say when they come through something ugly: I learned who I am, I learned who my friends are, etc etc. All true. I also learned what mercy isn't and what justice isn't and what forgiveness is.

Mercy isn't about sparing hardship. It's the voice that calls us through it. Justice isn't about vengeance. Vengeance is something different, though it has its place in one hand of justice. Justice is about giving to each what they are owed. No less, and no more. Justice and mercy must walk hand in hand. They are not themselves without each other. They must speak to each other if they are to speak to us. Neither weakens the other. They are fire and steel. They heal. They cleanse. Without them, we stay sick and dirty.

Forgiveness springs out of the heart of both. Forgiveness must be honest. It must say, "this harm was done." It may not say of a harm that it was not done. It must not diminish the harm. It must not inflate the harm. Forgiveness must look the harm in the eye, hold it in the palm of its hand, and put it away. Forgiveness looks forward to the day that the putting-away can be completed. Forgiveness feels pity, real pity, for both the harmer and the harmed.

I have some idea of the trajectory I was on on February 18, 2002, and I know that had that event not happened, the person I am today would not recognize, understand, or probably even be able to converse with the person I would have become.

I easily could have married him. Thank God for making that impossible.

Lent started Monday. I've been reading The Lenten Spring as part of that journey. I realized only a week or two ago that Lent was already almost here, and knew I wasn't ready to start the Fast on time. I'm preparing this week and will start next. I'm ready and excited.

Lent is called "the acceptable time". I'm interested in finding out more about that.

Lenten Prayer of St. Ephrem the Syrian

2010-02-16T14:33:00.000-05:00

O Lord and Master of my life
take from me the spirit of sloth
faint-heartedness,
lust of power
and idle talk.

But give rather the spirit of chastity,
humility,
patience,
and love to thy servant.

Yea, O Lord and King
grant me to see my own errors
and not to judge my brother;
for Thou art blessed unto the ages of ages.

Amen.

Discouraged

2010-02-15T22:10:00.002-05:00

So today I ran 2.5 miles in 22:30. That's a little better than before - it's a steady 9 minute mile pace. Not awesome, really, but consistent.

I can live with that.

What I'm bumming about is the increasing pain in my left ankle. I first really "noticed it" on Friday, and it made my 2 mile run that day incredibly difficult. It hurt all weekend, more each day, while at work. Today, I finished my 2.5 mile run, went to shower, and my ankle is all swollen. 10 hours have passed and it's still swollen, tender to the touch, and uncomfortable to walk on. I've been doing some reading and it's sounding like tendonitis. I'm seriously bumming about it. Practical solutions? Elevation, ice, rest, better shoes, and perhaps a trip to the doc if it doesn't improve in the next couple days.

I just don't want this to be taken away right now.

The status of a Facebook friend...

2010-02-12T10:46:00.001-05:00

"I am trying to teach my mind to bear the long, slow growth of the fields, and to sing of its passing while it waits." -Wendell Berry

Guess what?!

2010-02-11T11:11:00.002-05:00

I ran two miles. All in a row. Without stopping. In 18:20. Not awesome, but HEY NOW I've never run that far all in a row without stopping or dying before in my life. So ha.

Woot.

A few countdowns

2010-02-09T12:41:00.002-05:00

Approximately 4 hours until I call in to work and see if they really need me to dig my car out of a snow drift and drive on unplowed roads to come in and stand around for a few hours, making nearly nothing, before driving back home on said unplowed roads and park in the snowdrift from whence I uselessly came.

19 days til my first 5k. :) I haven't registered, but that's neither here nor there. I'm registered in my mind and I'm starting to suspect that I might actually be ready to run 3.1 miles in 19 days. I'm scheduled to run 2 miles (all in a row - I know) tomorrow and I'm sure I can do that. I decided at the beginning of this running thing that I would be able to run that 5k at the end of February. I don't think I actually believed it though. As I've seen the change in my body, I've seen a change in myself. Again. :) I think it's cool how human beings are mind-body-spirit composites and I think it's cool how tinkering with any one of the three will create changes in the other two. I think I take myself a little more seriously, and a little less seriously, all at once. I'm in awe of my thighs, which are trimtrimtrim! and frustrated with my knees, which aren't cooperating. But I'm realizing that the good and the less good work together quite well. And it's, well, good. :)

And I can do it. I can run that sucker. Which means that someday, I'll be able to run farther. And hey, maybe I'm stronger than I thought.

Approximately 8 days til IUI attempt #2. I'm ready. I'm ready for the roller coaster. The up, the down, the up, the down, and the unknown. I'm not afraid of the suspense and the suffering therein this time. It's mercy. Each time is different, and I'm thankful for the present calm. I didn't know 26 months ago that I was starting a race, and I don't know now where the "finish" line is. But I'm pretty stinking sure I can make it. I'm pretty stinking sure that there are more rough days ahead, but I'm pretty stinking sure that I'll get through them. (running makes you stinky, haha)

Courage today, see? Thankfully, that's all that's expected of us. I'm not being asked today to carry tomorrow. I'm thankful for that and I'm thankful that today I can see that.

neither here nor there

2010-02-04T11:19:00.002-05:00

I'm neither here nor there on the artist; I am definitely not "there" with the video (ick); but how 'bout this for a new theme song? :)

An insight

2010-01-28T14:35:00.004-05:00

I'm probably right this time. ;)

I think I know why this whole TTC thing is a no-go. I'm far too selfish and God knows it. Really. He's being merciful to my husband, and/or justly treating my innermost thoughts with necessary tough love.

See, Thursday is my day to get the kids ready and take them to school. And every Wednesday night, I think, "Gee I hope I get pregnant so I'm too sick and tired to get up and J will have to take them."

Consider.

1. I hate mornings. Especially the cold, dark variety. Those mornings, especially, can crawl back into the Pit from whence they came. I have no need for them and think it would be best to skip over them directly from Night to Day. If I ran the world, I would make that amendment, surely.

2. The hubs, bless his utterly incomprehensible heart, likes mornings. Even the cold dark Pit-generated ones. He perkily pops his peepers open of his own accord somewhere between 5:30 and 7:00 every morning. All on his own. I think he's excited about playing his computer game without me bugging him to turn the volume down. But nevertheless, the man is awake.

I have never quite seen the use of dumping sleepy me out of my cozy warm bed when someone else (ahem) is already up.

Pregnancy might be my door out of Thursday driving duty.

I know. Pregnancy would only in fact be a door into perpetual morning-facing. Unless my children, like me, have the sense to avoid mornings at all cost as well.

But maybe I'm on to something here. I just don't know what to do about it...

:)

ps

2010-01-23T23:52:00.001-05:00

(my temp popped back up again. phew. yay progesterone.)

Warning: Pedantry ahead

2010-01-21T17:22:00.003-05:00

This post is for me, though you may certainly read it.

(First, I must say that my sad pensive mood has been temporarily altered by trying to swallow a mouthful of wine before sneezing. I failed. The sinuses burn, the eyes are watering, the throat is sore, and my family is laughing. Thank God for the absurdities He sends lest we take ourselves too seriously.)

I'm 7dpo, on CD26. Had my LH surge on CD 18. Temperature jump on CD19. Just as it should be, although a bit late. And then 4 days ago, it started a nosedive. I've lost nearly a degree in 4 days. I don't know what that means. I don't think I like it, and I certainly don't like not knowing what it means. I'm guessing it means a certain lack of progesterone in ye olde system, but why is a puzzle. Just this whole TTC thing should get me a degree in reproductive medicine. Seriously.

But seriously. I'm up to my eyeballs in the whole TTC/infertility clash. Again. And it's shitty and sucky and I'm pretty freaking sad a lot of the time. It's sent that part of me that lives in the throat and chest into a downright tizzy. And I know why CS Lewis said once, "No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear." They both approach the same thing (loss) from two different sides. Fear is approaching grief. They mingle.

We've had one failed IUI. This cycle, the IUI didn't happen. Scheduling and whatnot. And now the temperature snafu...

We've got a few more IUI trials left and I think the dismay I'm mired in is a little early. But I feel it. I feel like it's just not gonna happen. I feel like I'm going to have to do a lot of mirror-talking and pillow-crying this summer when we give up IUI and turn away from IVF. But I have a 5k and another Lent and another Pascha between now and then. And perhaps I'll be more ready then than I am now.

I watched Beth's posted video "Blessed Be" this afternoon. (Thanks Beth) And it was a lovely reminder. I've become an emotional, though not intellectual, deist through all of this. I don't ask "where is God?" because it's a senseless question. I know perfectly well where He is. I just don't feel a thing about Him one way or the other. But deserts were always promised and I know a stretch of sand when I see one. Rivers and forests and rolling hills will come. And I will look back and see that the streams were always here. I see some of them even now. There is always Grace.

And I was thinking about the line, "though there's pain in the offering, blessed be the Name of the Lord." And I thought, "Yes, that's quite right."

But that can't be all. It's dangerously close to stoicism, which we're forbidden. We're not to just steel ourselves against pain, singing throughout. Christianity is not a cheat. It's a road straight through. We're required to taste even a bitter cup, and drink it to the bottom. It's poison otherwise. Consider Mara in MacDonald's Lilith.

I'm not being clear.

Christ talked about taking up our crosses and following Him. Lewis, in the Screwtape Letters talked about taking up our present crosses. There's no sense in trying to take up future crosses, because they conflict, they may never come to pass, and moreover, they're not here yet. it's today's cross that needs tending to. It's the daily bread that requires requesting. My present cross right now is not knowing. And fear. And the frustration of years of what feels like lost time.

And so I tell myself over and again, "courage, courage."

Motherhood is a joy that I may never taste. I'm starting to look that in the face. That loss is massive. Vacuous to consider. But I am deciding not to let the possible loss of one joy mean the loss of all joys. Today's cross, oddly enough, is carrying the joys that I wouldn't have chosen first, but have received in spite of myself. How stupid, no? To consider joys a cross?

And there I find that they're not a cross at all, but joys. Duh.

The real cross is the wanting of a different joy. But, I will swim in the wave Maleldil sends (check out Lewis's Perelandra to decipher that line). Perhaps not a cross. Perhaps a coin to polish and give back. I'm not sure.

Where am I going with this? Running. Motherhood requires the changing of a body to do things that seem impossible at first consideration. It requires the growing of a new sort of strength.

And so I run. My body is changing, and I am developing a kind of strength I have never had before. I take step after step after step and I get tired and sore, but it's exhilarating. Even as I face the possible loss of a lifelong dream, I'm finding a joy I never imagined. There are gifts, always, all around. My own body (imagine me saying this!) is one of them, and I can choose to polish it til it shines.

I went 3.8 miles yesterday in 42 minutes. In 5 weeks, I plan to run 3.1 miles (5k) without stopping. Run. Tomorrow I will run more and farther. Run. Love and polish what I have.

My stepdaughter struggles with anxiety. She's 9. I have a certain history here and a certain sympathy, and I've actually been able to help her a bit. My husband called me a "Godsend" to her. Run. Love and polish what I have.

There are some things that are not up to me. And there are many things that are. It is a race, in fact.

Funny, isn't it. All the images our Lord used. They're not just images after all. They're not like, they are.

Day 2

2010-01-07T15:05:00.003-05:00

Status update regarding the madness described in my last post.

Workout for today (remembering that I am a "novice" runner): Walk 10 minutes. (Run 3 minutes, walk 1 minute)x5. Walk 10 minutes. Total time: 40 minutes.

3 miles travelled.

Quads are quite a bit sore, but it's sorta nice. I feel like I might be accomplishing something.

Had the thought while running: "Exactly how large is my butt?" I never really considered it to be that big, but man alive... It felt big while I was running. haha

Something new

2010-01-07T09:37:00.002-05:00

I am becoming a runner.

I ran in high school - track. Sprints. (Badly) (Slowly)

I've been meaning to try running distances for a while, but partially because I'm a chicken and partially because of this whole TTC thing, I've not done it. I was under the impression since last spring that running could interfere with implantation, and prior to last spring, I operated a great deal under the impression that trying anything so dramatically new would be pointless, because, well, what if I ended up pregnant?

Enough of putting life on hold.

I talked to my doctor and was told that running is (theoretically, as long as nothing is wrong) fine in early pregnancy and wouldn't interfere with the becoming pregnant process. If we were to do IVF (which we won't), I wouldn't be allowed to run because IVF drugs cause the ovaries to expand so much that they'd bounce much more and could twist. And that would be bad.

So I talked to my brother in law, who runs, and he recommended a book called Run Less, Run Faster and I started the training Tuesday. Everything hurts, but not in an injury way. In a, "hey, we've not been used like this in a LONG time" way. But it's exciting.

I'll be running a 5K at the end of February. The plan, assuming I don't become pregnant and a couch potato (hopefully one, but not both, will come to pass) is to run a couple 8 and 10Ks over the summer and a half marathon in November. And a full marathon next spring sometime.

I'm excited. I have mixed motives for this move. It's partially because it's something I've wanted to do for a long time. But it's also something that I can focus on that I have some measure of control over. I would say equal parts of both. Plus it's healthy. And cool.

:)

CD12 today. Probably going in for IUI2 early next week.

Til then, I will dream about finishing a race, having run the whole way.

Surely, there is a metaphor here. But I'm going to leave it alone for now. ;)

Fresh

2009-12-27T21:46:00.004-05:00

I am fresh off of a very... mixed... 48 hours.

In short, my hormones went berzerk on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. I was pretty sure why and pretty sure I didn't like it. And then my temperature dropped Saturday morning. Kaplooie. Saturday morning, my husband and I got in the car for what was supposed to be a 6 hour drive to a dear friend's wedding. It took 8.5 hours and we walked in the door two minutes after the ceremony ended. Kaplooie.

On the plus side, I did get to see my lovely friend glowing in her dress, smiling at her groom, and dancing with her dad at the reception. And even though we missed half the event, I did get to see her full to overflowing, and in so so so many ways, that's entirely enough. Happiness is so beautiful, especially when it radiates from such an already beautiful person.

But last night in the hotel room, I felt absolutely flattened by frustration and disappointment. Between another failed TTC attempt and missing the wedding of a friend, I was just overwhelmed by the feeling that there are times that pass (though all are such) that you simply can't get back, and sadnesses that there aren't recompense for, and the infuriating powerlessness that comes from not having any enemy to rage at or any bad guy to blame. Sometimes it just rains.

But there was another side that, thankfully, wouldn't quite leave me alone. I'm only 27, but I have been lucky enough to have lived enough to know that any thing can be redeemed. The very wedding that we (almost, haha) witnessed emphatically - triumphantly - announces that fact. And that's no small thing. I have seen enough to know that the show really isn't over, even if it feels like the curtain is falling.

So we smile and gather close our blessings and hope for tomorrow.

I would be a fool to turn my face only to those things that cannot change (the past) and ignore the things that can. I would be a fool to miss the treasures for the spots of rust on the treasure chest.

As I've said before in this very blog. Things generally shake out OK, even if they suck beyond nightmare at the moment.

And in the words of a very fine author: "All will be most well."

Bench marks

2009-12-18T20:19:00.004-05:00

Well hello. I know, I'm a crummy blogger. At least it's intentional.

In the world of TTC, we are, in fact, still TTC. As far as we know, I guess. We could have "C"ed a few days ago, but wouldn't know it yet. It's the 2ww. I can't say that it's the 24th, what with my wacky cycles and all, but this cycle marks two years. This will be the third Christmas I've hoped for a couple little lines for Christmas. It's wild, looking back at the last two years and realizing that two years have passed. They have been full, and they have been happy, and I am not the person today I was then. I'm actually more myself. If I may be sappy, I have to say that that's one of the best things about being married to the perfect man for me - he makes me more myself.

I don't want to get back on the TTC rollercoaster. I might have mentioned that. So I'm not going to.

But I will say that I've learned to watch my temperatures and I've found it fascinating to see how they correspond to things my body does. I find it absolutely hilarious that here I am, plunked in this body, and it's like being dropped off on a foreign planet. I mean, it's MY body! Shouldn't I have a better instinctive feel for it? lol. But it's given me a much better handle on what happens when.

AND. We actually went in for the first IUI this month. We missed the LH surge somehow last month. It was all a very surreal experience. But hey, we've done it once, and are ready to do at least 2 more. On the down side, J's numbers are still way low, even for an IUI. But on the upside, it's the best shot we've ever had. So here's hoping, huh?

OK. I'm distracted and out of the practice of blogging, so I'm going to stop writing now. But now all 5 of my occasional readers know what's going on. :)

Eating my beans

2009-09-30T22:52:00.003-04:00

Hello. Alive still.

Starting IUI next cycle. We're currently on CD 16 (I think - it's in that vicinity) of this cycle. So in something like 3 weeks or so I'll be going back on Letrizole (like Clomid, but way nicer) and then, the basting begins.

Am I excited? Not really. I feel like I know better than that now. Am I ready? Yes. :)

I have to say, though I can't even begin to get into it now, that these months off have been very good... for me. Not good, but good for me. Like, "eat your beans, they're good for you."

Engagement

2009-08-17T20:39:00.002-04:00

My brother proposed to his girlfriend today. I am beyond delighted and honored to say that I was there for it.

Sitting across a pond from them, hidden behind a hat and sunglasses and a "torpedo" of a camera borrowed from a friend, I was able to watch them walk to the swing, sit down, talk. I saw my baby brother get down on one knee. I watched her wipe tears from her eyes. I saw them kiss. I took a billion pictures for them. I hope they came out.

I love him and I could never thank my parents enough for making him, and God for giving him to me.

I remember J proposing to me. So sweet, down on both knees on a boat in a country far away from here. The ring held between his thumb and forefinger, he said, "will you marry me?" with head cocked to the side and the sweetest smile I have ever seen on his face.

Marriage is quite the gift. It has such tremendous potential for harm and pain, but only because the potential for good is so enormous. I'm glad I've bound my life to J's. I hope my brother will always be so happy.

Blessings to the newly engaged. Love is always ancient, always new. May it be so for them.

On a shelf

2009-07-20T09:51:00.002-04:00

Yes, I've been gone for a while. I work at a camp for gifted high school students during the summer. It used to be 2 weeks. But the "blessed" (read: accursed) governor cut the funding state-wide, so no more camps. Ours was the very last in the state of Ohio into the foreseeable future. Makes my fists clench a little.

But anyhow. It was wonderful. Each week changed me. I am thankful it happened, and thankful I was part of it. I'm thankful for the people I've fallen absolutely in love with because of it. I'm sad it's gone. But the glow of it isn't.

So that's one thing we're putting on a shelf.

Another thing is the trying. At least for now.

I don't remember what I posted last, but J's numbers are still low. Directly in IUI territory.
I'm not ovulating. It's CD20 right now and there's no sign of ovulation. And that's late, even for me.
We want me to go to Italy with him when he takes a group in May.

So we're stopping for now. We'll probably gear up in September for IUI starting in October.

I'm both relieved and empty. I've not by any means given up hope. I'm just putting it on a shelf til the fall.

so then

2009-07-10T21:53:00.002-04:00

So, J's to be on a regimen of Ibuprofen and antibiotics for the next three weeks to fight whatever it is that's causing the white blood cells.

We're probably planning on starting IUI in September. Time to start working on my turkey baster fetish. Oooh la la.

Data entry

2009-07-09T13:47:00.001-04:00

Got the test results back. His numbers have improved - way improved. Yay. His motility percentages have dropped. Un-yay. And the white blood cells are still there.

We'll hear back later today or tomorrow about exactly what that means, but it looks like we're squarely in IUI territory, with some concern about the white blood cells.

Family

2009-07-06T09:54:00.002-04:00

We live in a 160-year old farmhouse on what once was the edge of town. The Irish pub across the street was the milkhouse. The house was built in 1848. It has been around through all but a few of our nation's major wars. I wondered this weekend as I sat in the driveway and watched the fireworks what all this house has seen. We don't know much about the history of the people who lived here. Did someone walk out that front door and head off to the War Between the States (how very un-Yankee of me to call it that - but I can't quite bring myself to call it the War of Northern Aggression either)? WWI? WWII? Korea? Vietnam? Hm.

But I learned a bit about my family history.

I sat on the back deck of my parents' home and heard my grandmother talk about her father - how he liked ice cream, how he adored his wife, how he died, how he said to her after some testing that revealed 100% arterial blockage below his waist, "If there's a hell, I've been there and back." How he died the evening after he said that. How certainly that was the closest to hell he ever got, or ever will.

My aunt is the geneologist of the family and I heard about my father's family's history.

What's funny, she said, is that if you follow my father's parents' two lines directly back, you can't get very far at all.

My father's grandfather was a man named Rudolf Otten. He was born in Germany somewhere around 1898 and came over to the States in the 19-teens sometime. We don't know for sure which town he was from. We know nothing about his family. My grandfather doesn't know if he has aunts, uncles, cousins, or even what his grandparents names were. And what with the bombings in Germany - twice - there are no records. So that's where the paternal line stops. My great-grandfather.

My father's grandmother was an Irish woman named Mary Burke (my Irish friend out there -any relation to any Burkes?). Mary Burke was one of three children - Delia, the eldest, Mary, and a little brother. Her father ran off when they were young, and Delia made the trek across the sea when she was in her teens, in the 19-teens sometime. Their mother died, and Mary came over shortly after. Little brother spent some time in London, then went back to Ireland and breathed life back into the family farm. The Burke family is still there. My grandparents have met them a few times.

Delia married some Texan, a "bum" my grandpa says, and lived in New Jersey.

Mary married Rudolf, had six children, and lived in the New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania region. I'm unclear on exactly where. Mary (Mamie) was born first, then Charlie, Edward (my grandfather), Bobby (died as a child), Helen and Kathy.

Incidentally, though I never met Rudolf nor Mary, I have heard their voices. A recording was made when my father was quite young, and in it, you can hear my aunt as a toddler, my father as a young boy, my grandmother before one of her vocal chords was paralyzed, and my great grandparents. Each with their own accents.

I have yet to learn more about the Lees - my grandmother's side. I know my grandmother was the youngest of three - Eva Mae, Chester, and then her. I know her parents names were Charles and Mabel. I knew my great grandmother. I remember her as being scary and old. She was both scary and old, but then she did raise three children during a depression and all.

So there you have it. For now.

Put down the hammer

2009-07-01T21:47:00.000-04:00

Check this out.

Lewis Sonnet

2009-06-30T22:56:00.002-04:00

A friend at work tonight asked me, "Doesn't it make you mad - seeing some of the people in this world popping out babies while you aren't?" And this Lewis sonnet instantly was in my head. No, I didn't start reciting it. But it was there.

You think that we who do not shout and shake
Our fists at God when youth or bravery die
Have colder blood or hearts less apt to ache
Than yours who rail. I know you do. Yet why?
You have what sorrow always longs to find,
Someone to blame, some enemy in chief;
Anger's the anesthetic of the mind,
It does men good, it fumes away their grief.
We feel the stroke like you; so far our fate
Is equal. After that, for us begin
Half-hopeless labours, learning not to hate,
And then to want, and then (perhaps) to win
A high, unearthly comfort, angel's food,
That seems at first mockery to flesh and blood.

Thank God for Lewis. His words are always a life raft. Because anger is just a handsbreadth away. Every month that passes, I feel like a big silent space somewhere in me grows just a little bigger. I'm not sure why that's the image that leaps to mind, but it is. These first few days, I always feel acutely aware of the place in my body where someone could be growing, but isn't, and I feel very ... still or empty. Thankfully, the sharpness of the pain I experienced, say, 6 months ago, has passed. This is much more like a prolonged sigh that sounds a lot like "someday".

Someday.

Meanwhile. There are things to do.

The painfully obvious

2009-06-29T10:17:00.002-04:00

Life is not a movie.

Were it, I would have found out on my 27th birthday that I was pregnant, and I'd be due on my Dad's birthday. I'm not and I won't be. The much anticipated progesterone crash started last night and once again, CD34 has turned into CD1. Or at least, it's about to.

We'll find out how J's counts are this week, but either way, we might have to give up on the next 3 months. Why? You ask. Well, the great July shag-a-thon will be meagre due to the both of us working at a camp for high school kids for the duration of that week. We might be able to sneak away once. I'm sure it'll be phenomenal. Then, J is going to Italy for three weeks next May into June and no way in hell am I going to risk delivering our first child with him in some foreign country. Apparently he would not cancel the trip even if I should end up knocked up and due while he's gone. I'm resisting the urge to glare. *sigh* So there's that. In all likelihood, no babies for me until the end of next summer. At best.

Screw that.

On a positive note, I had a really nice birthday. I slept in, in a quiet house (no kids, no hubby), sat around a bit, had an awesome awesome workout, read a book in the sunshine, sat around a little bit, and then I went to work. Not the ideal birthday day, but it was good. I have some very good friends where I work, and lots of very friendly acquaintances and I really enjoy being there most days. After work, a few of us went out to Applebees for a drink. We go just about every Saturday night, but this week, one of my friends found it necessary to tell everyone it was my birthday. Thankfully, they don't do birthday songs there. But since we go there a lot, we know a lot of servers. I had no fewer than 6 balloons tied to my wrists. It was delightfully ridiculous. But it was a happy day. Not bad for 27.

J got me a throwing axe. Have I mentioned that I throw knives? Not well of course, but recreationally and occasionally. Well, he got me an axe. Might go outside and try that out this afternoon.

A summary of my day

2009-06-24T20:41:00.003-04:00

J left before 7 for his "nerd conference" (technically referred to as a "Gaming Convention" - whatever. Nerd conference. Nerds like him congregate for an extended weekened and game. He does strategic gaming - apparently a more respectable version of gaming than the weirdos who dress up like Chewbaca).

I got the kids at 7:35 AM.

We went to Dunkin' Donuts.

We went to the park.

We went to the library.

We got three MILLION books on pythons, the planets, some Native American folklore, the ocean, fairy tales and cooking.

At some point in the late late morning, I put small male J (their names all begin with J - it's not fair) down for a small sleep while small female J watched a show. I, naively, thought I might also take a small nap. Hormones make a certain someone sleepy.

20 minutes later? SLAM (the door). He's up.

No way. This child, when he sleeps, sleeps for an hour. This stepmom? Desperately wanted an hour. So, she sends him back to bed.

20 minutes later? SLAM. Creak creak (on the stairs). I stomp from my bed to the door. SLAM (door opening). Sob sob sob. Small male J stands outside my door sobbing, "I have a button in my tummy. It hurts."

Combine fury (at being woken up. AGAIN.) with panic and you have a certain stepmom shouting "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE A BUTTON IN YOUR TUMMY? DID YOU EAT A BUTTON?" (It's possible, really.)

wail wail wail, "I don't know."

Shout shout shout, "What do you mean you don't know? Did you chew on a button?"

wail, "no"

Shout: "Did you eat a button?"

wail, "I don't know?"

(vague wondering: how do you NOT know if you ATE a BUTTON.")

Continuation of same pattern until a certain stepmom says, "OK, I'm going to call Daddy and see if he thinks you need to go to the hospital."

At which time a certain 5 year old wails, "Don't tell Daddy! Don't tell Daddy!"

*eye squint*

"Lay down in bed while I call Daddy."

Panic: "Don't tell Daddy!"

"Did you really eat a button?"

wail. "I don't know. My tummy hurts."

Panic-fueled fury ensues.

Child is planted in bed. Small child's elder sister and daddy are consulted.

As it turns out, after the first time I sent the beloved child back to his bed, he laid there and cried and hissed himself into an absolute lather and stomach ache. He did not eat a button. He came up with that to avoid the nap. Which he then took for 45 minutes after being planted back into his bed, discussed with, and threatened to the very brink of his life. He's been a saint since.

Yes, he is still alive.

Dinner was not, as I was tempted to make, button soup.

It was, though, constituted by some phenomenal pork tenderloin, steamed green beans, yummy salad, and HOMEMADE (*bow bow*) garlic-herb butter. AND French rose wine. YUM.

*nonsensical griping deleted*

However, I do have my stepkids to care for. And something to sew for someone I've never met but care a great deal about.

Thank God in His mercy for giving us neighbors, lest we collapse in on ourselves.

So there we are. 9:07 PM on June 24, 2009.

Counting on fingers

2009-06-23T11:13:00.003-04:00

Well, due to a small miscalculation, and resultant "hiccup", we had to put off J's visit to have his swimmers counted. They ask for abstinence at least 48 hours (very minimum) before the test. Sunday is not 48 hours before Monday. So, our swimmy-counting expedition has been put off til early next week. *snicker*

I am pretending not to notice that it could be a moot point by next week.

In all likelihood, I will be a grouchy bleeding mess, and he will be a grouchy lab rat on Monday next.

Ah, the familiar madness of rolling the CD over and over in one's mind; of ticking off the DPOs and making sure that today, still Tuesday (STILL?) is 12dpo; of being quite thankful for the wisdom of not having bought any HPTs in the last 8 months or so; of trying not to imagine or hope or whatever. My sense of humor has kicked in this round and I'm finding the whole thing still a little tragic, but in an almost funny way. My body is being quite kind - none of the typical PMS symptoms have shown up yet, which means as a direct derivative that there are no symptoms for me to overanalyze. Thank you, thank you.

Well, me and my 12 progesterone friends are going to go back and finish this cute green and pink handbag I started a bit ago.

My dad

2009-06-21T23:13:00.002-04:00

My dad was friends with the UPS guy. I don't mean he had a friend who was a UPS guy. He was friends with the UPS guy.

I remember being a kid and hearing, on what seemed like a daily basis, the *beep beep beep beep beep* of a truck backing up our driveway. Once or twice during the summer, a birthday box for me or my brother would be arriving. But most of the time it would be a new tool for my dad's workshop.

And I remember going out there and seeing him, box tucked up under one arm or set protectively at his feet, one foot on the fender of the UPS truck, just chatting away with this guy he wouldn't have otherwise had any reason to meet. I don't know what they talked about exactly, but I'm pretty sure the UPS guy was married and had at least one little kid. My dad would know.

He's that kind of guy.

My dad is a fireman and a carpenter, and those two things somehow seem to say so very much about him - to me. He is a hero, and he is honest, and he works hard, and whenever I smell diesel and rubber or sawdust and varnish or soap and sun tea, I think of him.

I don't think he knows just how golden he is.

All he sees is the stormy temper and the blue collar, and I suspect that he thinks those things just about sum him up. It's both endearing and tragic, really. If he knew, he wouldn't be as real and humble as he is. But not knowing, I think, causes him more pain than he ought to carry.

He is the sort of guy who can chat up the UPS guy and end up with a friend. He cares about people and somehow often manages to get to the bottom of them, finds out what makes them tick, and sets them in motion. He's a cool guy to have in a church. He's a cool guy to have in your corner. I think this key is this: he really cares, and I'm not sure that's as common a characteristic as we would wish.

I wish you knew my dad. And if you do, I wish you knew him better. I know I do. Not that he's a stranger by any means - he's not one of this distant dads. But you know those people who you like more and more the more you know them?

He's that kind of guy.

Happy Father's Day Dad.

12

2009-06-19T23:55:00.002-04:00

Well, the doc called. Actually, one of his nurses - my favorite in fact. I've only spoken to the actual doctor twice. But I speak to his nurses often. In any case, she called tonight with my results.

12!

You need at least a 3 to confirm ovulation, and anything over 9 indicates a "nice lush lining". I'm nice! And lush! Twice in a row! All on my own! For the first time in at least *counting on fingers* 5 years!

Knowing that needles aren't necessarily an inevitability is making me very happy right now.

Plus, I can now say that we are 8dpo. Hoo hoo hoo! That does put us on track for a 34 day cycle ending on June 29.

Have I mentioned that my birthday is June 27?

Commence twitching

2009-06-18T11:27:00.002-04:00

Happy Thursday.

Bloodwork day. Did I ovulate or are there daily needles in my future?
Kids whining and fighting.
Elder kid whining to daddy about evil stepmom having the gall to break up said fight and make recommendations as to how to avoid/escape them in the future.
Hubby griping about location of clean laundry (admittedly not in correct location).
Hubby griping about just about everything that's out of place. Really, I'm trying. I just haven't managed to get ahead of things lately, so they're backed up and I apparently stink at guessing which thing is going to bug him next. Hello, I have 2.5 jobs. Oh, plus stepmom housewife duty.
Insane employer being her typical irresponsible unreliable disorganized self.

Commence twitching.

Next entry will be a happy one. Promise.

Spitting it out

2009-06-09T12:16:00.003-04:00

Wow. Why are these days so hard? It set in two night ago, and I can't shake it. I feel like there's a wrinkled green creature squirming around in my chest. This usually sets in more around the time of the Red Menace, not around the time of alleged ovulation. It's poison, it is, if you let it sit. So here I am, spitting it out.

*ptah*

*shake shake*

Getting on with things...

Mind-Body

2009-06-08T13:02:00.002-04:00

There is a debate in the philosophical world, and has been for quite some time, as to whether the mind and the body are distinct things, or two manifestations of one thing. In other words, is the mind something other than the body, or just a function of it. And then some folks throw the soul or spirit into the mix just to make things fun.

I have to say, I'm not sure. We're certainly material-spiritual amphibians, but how that works and how the mind figures in and where they all connect is not something I have an answer to. I don't honestly know if I really care, haha.

Preambles, preambles. Where I'm going with this is an observation. When this TTC thing starts to get to me, I can feel it in my body. It's a tightness in my chest and electricity in my arms. Weird? Perhaps. But there it is. Unfortunately for my sanity, it's dark and rainy out and I'm stuck in front of my computer stewing, I mean, working. All day. Bah. My pile of brightly colored fabric is, literally, 24 inches away from my elbow, along with my newly fixed sewing machine. I'm itching to dig in.

I'm going to try to open up a shop on etsy.com and see if I can sell some of the results of my self-medicating (not medicated) sewing therapy. :) I'll post the link when it's up and running. We'll see. If none sell, I'll simply foist them upon my unsuspecting friends and relatives. Luckies. har har har

----

I've been in a tussle in my mind (whether that's located in my brain, or otherwise linked to it, haha) about the subject of prayer. I've found lately a certain stilling in my prayers. It's not that I don't want to - it's that I seem to be losing any sense of what to say. The Orthodox prayers are full of acknowledgements (otherwise known as praise, but they feel more like statements of fact than statements of emotion... does that make sense?) and petitions and lots of "Kyrie eleison"s. I suppose there's a hint there.

But what do you do when you feel blessed beyond expectation or hope - knee deep in treasures - how do you possibly work up the gall to ask for more? Obedience is the answer, I know that. We are told to pray for our daily bread. Not just the starving are told to pray. We all are. And we are told to give thanks when it comes. But ask nonetheless. So it's obedience, again and again, that is required.

But it feels like audacity.

And how do you pray for specifics? All I've found myself capable of asking for lately is, "Whatever You want to give" because to say, "Almighty God, I want this" just seems... odd. I suppose that's why the Orthodox repeat Kyrie eleison. Mercy, please, as I ask for something that maybe I ought not have. Mercy, please, and give me wisdom as I ask. Mercy, please, and teach me how to seek the things You are pleased to give. Mercy, please, I want that and it's breaking me. Mercy, please, patience. Mercy, please, comfort. Mercy, please, gratitude. Mercy... please... Mercy, please. Mercy, please, and forgiveness for silence.

A couple poems

2009-05-27T17:33:00.004-04:00

All by C.S. Lewis.

There's a repose, a safety (even a taste
Of something like revenge?) in fixed despair
Which we're forbidden. We have to rise with haste
And start to climb what seems a crazy stair.
Our consolation (for we are consoled,
So much of us, I mean, as my be left
After the dreadful process has unrolled)
For one bereavement makes us more bereft.
It asks for all we have, to the last shred;
Read Dante, who had known its best and worst -
He was bereaved and he was comforted
- No one denies it, comforted - but first
Down to the frozen centre, up the vast
Mountain of pain, from world to world, he passed.

Relapse

Out of the wound we pluck
The shrapnel. Thorns we squeeze
Out of the hand. Even poison forth we suck,
And after pain have ease.

But images that grow
Within the soul have life
Like cancer and, often cut, live on below
The deepest of the knife,

Waiting their time to shoot
At some defenceless hour
Their poison, unimpaired, at the heart's root,
And, like a golden shower,

Unanswerably sweet,
Bright with returning guilt,
Finally in a moment's time defeat
Our brazen towers long-built;

And all our former pain
And all our surgeon's care
Is lost, and all the unbearable (in vain
Borne once) is still to bear.

Snap

2009-05-27T08:14:00.002-04:00

The good news is that my body managed to do it all on its own. For that, we are very pleased. We're hoping it's starting a new trend.

Am I surprised this cycle ended? No, not in the least.

But still. You know.

An image

2009-05-26T11:43:00.003-04:00

It's CD33. Pretty sure it's going to turn into CD1 here in a bit. The "stars" are aligning. Taking a deep breath, and waiting. This whole cycle has been a bit of a vacation. With a few stinging exceptions, we didn't think too much about the whole TTC "thing". I had a vague notion when I might have been ovulating, but I didn't tell J, and we had quite a good time not worrying about timing and position and what have you. I didn't expect to wind up pregnant this round. The odds are as low as they've ever been, really. His counts are still in the toilet, and there was no guarantee I'd ovulate on my own. I've only done it twice in the past five years after all.

So given all that, I'd have thought that maybe I'd get off easy this cycle. Maybe I wouldn't have to try, again, fruitlessly, to batter down the hope that inevitably rises as the days go by. Maybe I wouldn't wake up one morning to find the pain in my breasts forebodingly diminished. Maybe I wouldn't have to fight the urge to dig my heels into fate in front of me and my fingertips into the hope behind me.

Well, folks, there really is no cheating. No free passes. The hand stinks, and you fold it again. And you wait to be dealt a new one.

Oh. The image? Have you ever broken a stick with your foot? You know that slow cracking before the snap? These hours are like that.

I'm going to go sew something. And listen to that song. "Ain't no rhyme or reason, no complicated meanin', ain't no need to overthink it, let go laughin'... Life don't go quite like you planned it..."

Bootstraps. Yank.

Introducing...

2009-05-23T11:42:00.002-04:00

My stepson. He's five, and this is his brand new trademark face.

In other news, I am sane and no longer the spawn of lucifer. Yay! I am, however, a water tower. I think I have retained every bit of water I've swallowed in the last 3 days. Please, someone, wring me out. I would love to swell up, but with a brand new person. Not with enough water to douse a small house fire. Am I being picky?

Satan pills

2009-05-18T18:19:00.001-04:00

Bad news for all you fellow Clomid-poppers out there. And those of you related to said Clomid-poppers. Coming off the Satan pills is just as bad emotionally as starting them. I am the devil's spawn.

Just sayin.

Still Alive

2009-05-17T09:58:00.002-04:00

Hi. I'm still alive. :) I just haven't had much to say.

This past Monday, J and I went on a bit of a road trip to Lexington, Kentucky. It was LOVELY. He didn't know I'd planned this whole trip, mind you. He had a meeting Monday morning, and when he got home around noon, I had everything packed and ready to go. Into the car he was stuffed and off we drove. About halfway there I told him where we were going. :) It was cool. His birthday is coming up next week, so this was his present.

We got there Monday night and had a tasty Thai dinner. Tuesday, we visited the Woodford Reserve distillery where one of the best small batch, triple distilled, Kentucky bourbons is made. We'd never had bourbon before, but as it turns out, we rather liked it. :) We bought a bottle. It's delicious, yo. ;)

DELICIOUS dinner and awesome conversation Tuesday night. We came home Wednesday.

I love my hubby. He's awesome. *happy sigh*

I have a pic I really want to upload onto here. My stepson, who drives me absolutely nutty sometimes, is hilarious. He turned 5 (FIVE!) on May 3 and his party was last weekend. He was delirious with joy. Both sets of grandparents were here, along with two awesome uncles, an awesome aunt and an awesome almost aunt. OH MY GOSH it's great to be five. He was a blur. Haha.

Incidentally, it's CD *counting* (I love that I don't know off the top of my head) 24. I'm eager to see if my body can crank out a cycle all on its own without any help from certain Satan pills.

So, how are you?

New theme song

2009-05-08T08:46:00.002-04:00

Again I will say to ignore the actual video unless you need help catching the lyrics. Apparently there's no official video out yet. I do what I can folks. I will just say that in the past week, there have been several moments where you might have found your local non-mom dancing ridiculously around the house with a broom, mop, duster, etc, to this song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ph49YlxCqi8

I will say that 2 weeks post-meeting with the doc who seemed to insinuate that we had no chance of conceiving on our own, and about 1.5 weeks post-cry-your-eyes-out, I'm doing very well. I think, in fact, that this might be the healthiest I've been about this whole nonsense in quite a while. Life simply isn't how I planned it. But whose really is?

It's like what I tell my stepkids when they don't want to eat something someone else has prepared for them. I don't have to like it, but I do have to be nice anyhow.

Folding

2009-05-05T09:40:00.002-04:00

We went to J's appointment yesterday afternoon. The doc is not worried at all by his low counts, or the extra white blood cells that were present in the sample. The counts could very easily be due to the fact that J had a prolonged fever just about once a month since, I don't know, October. If "certain areas" get too warm, little swimmy guys start to suffer. However, it takes about 3 months to bounce back (Q: how does ANYBODY get pregnant if even a fever can squish your chances?). So, J need to have another analysis done towards the end of June, assuming he doesn't get horribly sick between now and then. He will not.

Yes, this is good news. I'd pretty much resigned myself to not being able to do this ourselves, so it's nice to have that possibility back on the table. It's frustrating to, once again, not know anything for another 2 months. And more between then. I'm not going to be on any meds at all til we know what's going on with J. No IUIs, no IVF til the end of the summer. The doc said to consider it a vacation.

Yeah. OK.

Truth is, I'm just about "responsed" out. This is all good news, right? And I should feel that way, right? I just pretty much feel exhausted and flat.

But generally speaking, doing OK.

Oh. The title? Ever heard that classic, "You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run..."

Channelling

2009-04-25T10:23:00.002-04:00

It's an odd energy, this. It's worn out from months of fruitless hoping and raging, etc, and yet still finds it within itself to twitch impotently when poked.

It's funny, because in my head I realize that we've never really had a popsicle's chance in hell all this time, but I feel like we just lost our last chance at doing all this the "real" way. Of course, that's not even technically true, as we have one more month before all the needles and scans start. I have a friend who's been unhelpfully prophecying that I will get pregnant when I go off the Clomid. We'll see if she stands up there with Nostradamus or not.

In any case, I've been channelling all this impotent energy into bag-making. No kidding. I have a pile of cool fabric that I bought on a whim last summer that I've never quite figured out how to use. Well, I found two cool patterns and have been sewing up a storm. Now, I have a pile of cool bags I have no idea what to do with... Anyone want a bag? Mother's Day is coming up - that'll knock two out of the way (one for each of our moms)... Hmmm.

Also, (has anyone else noticed this?) it's easier to be nice when all the fury (not using the word as a synonym of anger, but as an illustration - like trees being whipped around in a "fury" of a wind) is spent. My stepkids and I are getting along, for the most part, beautifully. I like it. I wish I'd been stomped on a long time ago, for their sakes at least.

On a different topic entirely, it's lovely here today. Finally. Makes me think of guns. Haha. No, really. Maybe J and I will go shooting later this week. Target, not creature. We've got a way-fun black powder that makes a phenomenal "kaBOOM" and kicks the hell out of your arm. And a small handgun. I've been lusting after a revolver for years. Maybe when we're rich I'll get a sexy little silver thing with a wooden handle. Mmmmmm. But in any case, there's something quite lovely about staring down a barrel at the target. It makes everything else just go away.

"This is what it is to be loved,
and to know
that the promise was when everything fell
we'd be held."

Tiny tiny mercies

2009-04-24T09:10:00.002-04:00

It didn't toy with me this time, dragging things out, sending false symptoms, or any such thing. CD34 turned into CD1 very straightforwardly. That was nice of it.

I pretty much cried myself out on Monday and Tuesday, and after an emotional hemmorage like that, there's just not much to devote to a few tablespoons of blood. So that's nice. At least I'm not a wreck today. Just very, very quiet.

It's also a good thing that I don't think there's any big expansive reason for any of this. Otherwise, I'd start asking things like, "why?" As it stands, all I know is that it's just not supposed to be like this. But there's no one to shake a fist at.

Oh well.

If, objectively

2009-04-21T13:48:00.004-04:00

If I'm not pregnant this time, I will be on my first unmedicated cycle in a year.

If I ovulate, great and awesome. Let's hope that the problem of a year ago doesn't rear its ugly head again.

If not, and we'll know from the OPKs and possibly a progesterone test, then we will do a progesterone dump to bring on the next.

Jeff's numbers are low enough that IUIs might not be worth the money. We will find out on May 4 if this is the case.

If the numbers are good enough, we will do some variety of "super ovulation" injections, a trigger shot, and an IUI. The odds are, apparently, 20% each time.

If the numbers are not good enough, it may be due to a problem that can be fixed. That would be awesome.

If there's not a solution, our only real chance will be IVFs.

IVF has never really been an option. So many moral conundrums. We'd have to find a way through that mire. If there's no way through, then we're not going in.

This is very hard to swallow.

"This is what it means to be held
How it feels
When the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved
And to know
That the promise was
When everything fell, we'd be held."

Resurrection and needles warning: emotional rollercoaster

2009-04-20T16:53:00.006-04:00

Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and on those in the tombs bestowing life!

Христос воскресе из мертвых, смертию смерть поправ, и сущим во гробех живот даровав!

Xristos anesti ek nekron, thanato thanaton patisas, ke tis en tis mnimasin, zoin xarisamenos!

Pascha is here and He is risen! Woo!

Pascha was awesome. J and I went up to Cleveland to celebrate with some very dear friends at a wonderful church and it was stellar. It's the sort of thing I want to bring everyone I know to.

You walk into the church. It is totally dark except for a few candles around the "tomb." We each do our prostrations, venerate the icon of the crucified Christ, and sit down to wait. At 11:30, we stand and the first prayers start. Still dark, still subdued. The candles are blown out. It's early in the morning, and Christ has risen, but we don't "know" it yet. We in the church wait. At midnight you see a light behind the iconostasis, and the priest in the most spectacular vestments you can imagine appears with three candles in one, all lit, and begins to sing: "O come, all ye faithful, and receive the light..." I wish I could find the text. We all have candles and light them from the Candle, and then slowly file out of the church, singing softly:

"Christ is risen from the dead! By death trampling down death, and to those in the tomb, bestowing life."

And the procession starts. Around the church we go, singing. Incense is heavy in clouds over and around us. There are torches and candles blazing, golden crosses, banners, a choir. You get a taste of what the Church really is, and for the first time, I really got it - why millions of people over the millenia have died for this. Not because we owe God, but because there is nothing more real than this. And I understand why it's still alive. It hasn't faded because it can't. Because it participates in something that is both at the root and at the end of all things.

One of the coolest moments for me came as we were rounding a corner of the church. I start hearing this "pop pop pop" sound. Gunshots? It sounds like fireworks but it's midnight. But then, off in the distance, there are fireworks. The Greeks down the road were shooting off fireworks! "Christos anesti!"

My absolute favorite part, though, is all the times throughout the service when the priest, censing the absolute dickens out of us and the church, clouds of incense billowing, the choir sstill singing, shouts over and above the chanted liturgy, "Christ is risen!" And we all shout back before he even finishes, "Indeed He is risen!" And he shouts back at us, "Christos Anesti!" (Greek) And we shout back, "Alethos anesti!" And then he shouts, "Christos Voskrese!" (Slavonic) And we shout back, "Voistinu Voskrese!" Again and again, in more languages than I could identify, he shouted and we, or some, or a few, shouted back. The celebration is timeless, ageless, disregards distance and difference, and our only common ground, this victory, this feast, is enough.

It's funny, because at the time, I know I got a little grumpy. My legs, hips and back just ached from all the standing, and standing for 3 hours from 11:30PM - 2:30AM having fasted for 6 weeks, and moreso for the last few days, was not making me happy. But you look back and you'd do it all again. You start counting the days til you can. 365-7-2=356 more days til Palm Sunday and Holy Week.

For now, the glow stays on us.

My friend said, "You know, I have friends who work in other churches, and every year they have to figure out new ways to make Easter exciting."

Not a slam against other churches, not at all. They are our brothers and sisters, and we are all one body. But the riches they miss. By forfeiting the fast they forfeit the feast too. It is just massive and I'm only at the foot of the mountain.

I am in no way doing justice to the mystery and majesty that unfolds. Please bear with me for the next few days as I continue to gush.

----------------

Having said all that, and keeping that in mind (it helps), I had my appointment with another doctor today where I learned all about superovulation, IUIs, IVF, etc etc. "Should" this cycle fail, we will take one off. There is apparently no way I'm staying on the Clomid and should, apparently, have been taken off it a long time ago. Apparently Clomid effects the brain, telling the brain to tell the ovaries to make and release an egg. But that explains why you can get neurological side effects. Apparently the kind and severity (apparently they were considered "severe" months ago) of my side effects basically meant that OK, the Clomid is working but the body is hating it.

The reason for not just going ahead and starting the next round of new meds is that J's numbers are low enough (they're "on the bubble") that the docs might recommend not even doing an IUI. They're apparently on the border of IVF territory.

We had not wanted to do IVF. There seem to be too many moral conundrums.

But we'll see what the doc says. J has his appt on May 4, so we'll know then how to proceed in June. June.

Had myself a good cry about it on the way home. Still sort of on the verge. I don't want any of this. I hate this. I feel like something has just officially been torn from my hands. All this time, we could still say that any child we had was a direct result of our love for each other. Somehow, what with all the appointments and shots and scans and doctors and shit, it feels like we're treating a problem, not creating something new. I'm not excited about this new step into "greater probability of success"; I'm frustrated and crying again and I just want anyone who can hear me to know that this is NOT FAIR. Of course, anyone reading this already knows that, but it's just bubbling out of me.

Of course, on CD30, one could always step back in say, "In 5 days I might be looking back laughing at myself." But I'm just not buying that today. I feel like I'm watching the tide come in. There is no dam to build. No amount of kicking the waves will make them go away. You can cry and rail and shake your fist, and there's just no fixing it. There's no hiding. There's only bearing. Only scraping together more courage, more patience, and more insistance to still love, love, love, my spouse and my stepkids and my family and my friends, and the Crucified and Risen God.

And I'm, honestly, so tired. I don't want to talk this over with anyone. I don't want to say another nauseating word on the subject. I'm so sick of it. I just want two little pink lines on a stupid little stick.

Here's a song I've listened to about 30 times in the last hour. Don't watch the video. I think it's distracting. I just am liking the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOufqWodFNo

Home

2009-04-18T14:48:00.008-04:00

There is nothing quite like coming home.

I spent Thursday evening at church with a good friend of mine. And Friday afternoon at the same church, remembering the death. Remembering the darkness. Remembering that last breath. Remembering the burial.

I did my first prostrations. Ever. I learned again, or rather, had it underlined, what it means to worship. In a world without kings or queens, it's hard for us to understand what allegiance or worship or even bowing means. But to cross yourself and bow your forehead to the ground makes it darn hard to forget that the shroud and icon you are about to kiss more than stand for the Very Shroud, the Very Icon of the Most High. They are part of the original.

It's amazing to consider that this tradition is unbroken. Not centuries nor persecutions nor anything else have managed to stop this memorial. We keep it. And because we keep the memorial, we also get to keep the Miracle.

But back to coming home. I curled up in my own bed last night, safe next to my snoring husband, cozy between my own sheets, and thought about coming home.

There's nothing quite like it, is there?

And I'm understanding better the Fast. It is all sorts of things. It is complex. But right now I'm seeing clearly that for the last 6 weeks, we have been living a stunted human life. We have not eaten meat. We have not eaten dairy. The very strong have not eaten oil, or wine, or even anything cooked. We have not had sex. And truly, sex is essential in a marriage relationship. J and I have felt the lack, and not just physically.

But I'm starting to get it. We have fasted to draw into sharp contrast the withered from the full, the robust from the gaunt, the feast from the fast. We have given up part of the fullness and the freedom of our lives so that we can understand, really and fully, what exactly is given to us in the Passion of our Lord. We are given ourselves back. We were made to take joy in the good that is all things He has made. Our sin has bent us and made it hard if not impossible to fully participate in that joy and goodness. By death, He has defeated death. When we die with Him, we rise also with Him. It's not just so much imagery and myth. It's real.

We volunteered to wander in the wilderness so that when we are called Home, we might come, truly.

We taste tonight a part of the coming Feast when all things that look upon His face and love Him are freed to be what they were made to be.

We taste tonight the present Feast. Even now, we live fully. Even now, the Kingdom is come. Even now. Even here. Even in this. Even in all the trouble. The Kingdom is here.

I have goosebumps already.

Soon, I will type, and sing, the Great Hymn.

For now, I wait in the hush, in the garden, and I watch. The Dawn is coming!

Heaven comes so near

2009-04-16T23:29:00.002-04:00

I love the Orthodox Church. I really really do.

Tonight, I drove up to Cleveland to go to church with a good friend of mine. We walked in, and the first thought in my head, OK second after, "whoa clouds of incense," was, "Wow I love Orthodox vestments." Those folk just don't miss anything. Even the vestments are spectacular. There is no mistaking that man there, who you might enjoy a hamburger with on any other day of the week (except in Lent, then it would be a bean burger or something), is a PRIEST and an icon and ordained, really, and used, truly. It's very very cool.

For me, there is no time of year when heaven comes so near as these last days of Lent. We are tired. We stand for hours and we get sore. We're hungry. We're sex-deprived. And suddenly, you start to find the end of the rainbow. And there's really gold there.

Much of the beginning of the service focused on Judas. I puzzled over this until I started noticing that the focus was being honed in on his faults, his transgressions, his underlying vices that laid the foundation for his final betrayal. The Orthodox have a very interesting way of grinding lessons into you. They don't come out and say, "this is the way it is." They paint picture after picture after picture after picture. And you start to see. Sound like Anyone else we know?

The first thing that tipped me off to the Judas theme was a part of the service where a series of verses (Antiphon) were chanted. Each calls to mind something Jesus said or did. He raised Lazarus, he predicted his betrayal, he washed the feet of the disciples (even Judas's)... and in all of these things, Judas was unwilling to understand.

He chose.

Over and over again, throughout Holy Week, we are given contrasting examples. Be like the virgins who waited for the bridegroom with the lamps lit. Don't be like the ones who missed him. Be like Peter, who, though fallen, repented and loved and lived again. Don't be this; be this.

And it started to become painfully clear. Judas was unwilling to understand. He was avaricious. He was envious. He was impatient. He was unfaithful. His feet were washed and he was ungrateful. He had all the evidence directly in front of him and he refused to understand. He sold the Man who made him.

And how different are any of we?

Now, it must be noted that at no time did I feel that any sense of guilt was being contrived and shoved down my throat. In fact, I didn't sense any guilt at all. It was just the massive realization that I, too, can refuse to understand, can refuse patience, can refuse generosity, can refuse gratitude. I can do all of these things. It's not an emotional response that's necessarily generated, though it does follow. It's the knowledge that all this is not just about a few random men 2000 years ago. It's alive and present and still being played out here, now, today.

But again, we are drawn to another set of contrasts. There are two thieves crucified with our Risen One. One repents. One mocks. Be this, not that.

Judas and Peter both find shame, guilt, and remorse. Judas's last act of faithlessness was failing to wait to see what the third day brought.

----

There was a great deal of painful irony present in the service. The first I saw was at the end of the second Gospel reading. John 18:28. "They (the Jews) led Jesus from Caiaphas to the praetorium. Now it was early morning, and they themselves did not enter the praetorium so that they might not be defiled , and might eat the passover."

Oh my. They didn't know. But they should have.

And later: "Today the Jews nailed to the Cross the Lord Who had divided the sea with a rod, and who had led them into the wilderness. Today they pierced His side with a spear, who for their sakes smote Egypt with plagues; and gave Him gall to drink, Who had rained manna upon them for food."

And again: "Today is hung upon the Tree, He Who suspended the land in the midst of the waters. A crown of thorns crowns Him, Who is the King of Angels. He is wrapped about with the purple of mockery, Who wrapped the Heavens with clouds. He received buffetings, Who freed Adam in the Jordan. He was transfixed with nails, Who is the Son of the Virgin."

---

Matthew 27:24-25. Now Pilate, seeing that he was doing no good, but rather that a riot was breaking out, took water and washed his hands in sight of the crowd, saying, "I am innocent of the blood of this just man; see to it yourselves." And all the people answered and said, "His blood be on us and on our children."

What a horror to say. What a glory it turned out to be.

---
Insult after injury was poured out on the head of Christ. Absurdities. Appalling ironies. And yet, He sees fit to give us back an irony of our own. Through all of this, heaven bends so near to us. It's funny, but really shouldn't be (given all we know), how in the middle of the greatest horror we find the greatest glory.

I find, somehow, on what the West calls Maundy Thursday, a desire to pray for Christ. It seems sacrelige, somehow, to think that I, the creature, should take pity on and pray for the Son of God Son of Man. But on this night, I remember God Almighty prayed in the Garden, tasted fear, and was utterly alone. And I wonder, is it pride to long to comfort Him? Through the eternality of God, might I somehow reach back and offer the Comforter comfort?

I've always wondered what the angel brought when it came and ministered to Him. I have no way of knowing, but sometimes I wonder if it brought to Him visions of us. Maybe it showed Him my face, among millions of others, and said, "This is why. And these, your Saints yet unborn, asked me to tell You, here and now, that they love you, and they thank you, and they will wait with you in the Garden this night, and they will kiss Your feet on the cross tomorrow, and they will each try, with all of their frailty, to ease and lessen Your pain."

Son of God, Son of Man. Remember me in your Kingdom.

oh no

2009-04-16T11:06:00.002-04:00

I was a lunatic in a dream last night.
I felt my first cramp this morning.
I'm choking up about everything. And nothing.

Methinks doc maybe not so dumb. Dangit.
...Or maybe doc is as adorably naive as she seemed. We have been known to enjoy week-long PMS. Either way, someone say a prayer for my husband.

A hodge podge of human and divine

2009-04-15T13:50:00.003-04:00

Visited the vampires yesterday for a progesterone test. Lovely levels, "excellent" they say. 54.7. Woot. Go me and my progesterone production! (They want a minimum of 3 and are happy if the levels are at 9). So yay. The body is well prepared for baby growing.

snicker-snort. We all know better by now. But at least we know I'm still "functioning", even if with some help.

My doc is so cute. We were talking about how if ovulation was somewhere around CD17, she'd expect my period to come, oh, say, probably this weekend. Right around CD28 or 29. Hee hee. For a medical professional, the level of naivete is endearing. We all know the Red Menace will not be rearing it's ugly head til the middle or end of next week.

But anyhow, I now have an appointment on Monday to learn how to give myself shots. Yay! ? That's the next step. So, Monday I learn how to jab myself with needles and simultaneously stay conscious. Then, when RM appears, I need to lickety-split get my butt BACK up to the doc (have I mentioned they're 90 minutes away?) to get an ultrasound done between CD1 and 3 to see "where I am". I forgot to ask what that means. Then, shots starting CD3. I've always wanted to be punctured daily. I wonder, if I perforate myself in the right pattern, might I be able to get the last extra pound or two on each thigh/hip to easily peel off? It's well worth wondering. I might have to content myself with one hip per cycle. Lopsided for a month, but hey. A pound lighter nonetheless. Better than laying down on a treadmill.

For right now, I'm only going to flirt a little bit with the pissiness of all this. Flirt flirt. Feeling robbed. Flirt flirt. It's unfair. Flirt flirt. I hate this. Flirt flirt. Can't I just get f-ing knocked up already. Flirt flirt. What does that abdominal twitch mean? Flirt flirt. F.

On a different note, here we are up to our ears in Holy Week. Hooray. Today is "Great and Holy Wednesday." Those Orthodox sure don't mess around when they name things, do they? I'm rather excited that it's Wednesday, and not still Tuesday. With the way our church has services scheduled this week, there was only church on Sunday. We missed Monday and Tuesday, so the whole preparing for Pascha thing has seemed a little distant and surreal. The fast has gotten rather hard lately. I'm tired. I want meat. I want more than one serving of dairy per day. I want sex with my husband (gosh stinking darnit). But I remember that it's supposed to be hard, and we're supposed to be tired, and we're supposed to be anticipating the feast. And the fruits of all of this are coming, are in fact already here, even if we can't see them yet.

So, my next 5 days will look like this: church tonight, playing taxi all day tomorrow, driving up to Cleveland (I think) to attend Great and Holy Thursday's Matins of Great and Holy Friday with some friends, perhaps some 9 AM Royal Hours and 2 PM Great Vespers of Holy Friday on Friday also up in Cleveland, then home for 7 PM Matins of Great and Holy Saturday (Procession with Holy Shroud) (don't be confused - the matins of Saturday are celebrated Friday night). Saturday will involve me very busily being a collapsed heap on the couch for most of the morning and into the afternoon, working in the evening, then PASCHA (yayayayay) services and feast from 11:00 til something like 3 AM. Sunday, I will sleep, eat 3 or 4 varieties of meat, tackle my husband in the sack, then go to work again. Monday, fun with needles followed by some sort of feast at home Monday night. And maybe more tackling in the sack. Woo!

It sounds lunatic. All those piles of services. But really, it's amazing. I'm not a nerd. OK, I am a nerd, but it's still amazing. I'm looking forward to my next few posts as the focus tightens, darkens, and then explodes into light.

Life is fair

2009-04-13T20:56:00.004-04:00

I believe, truly, that the universe is just. At the end, nobody will be left empty handed unless they choose to be. I believe in a God who is just. I don't often, really, see justice around me though. Or even fairness. Life seems to just take and take and take and sometimes I find myself wondering when it's ever going to give anything back. There's something about this clip, though, that seems put a pound on the other side of the scale, and so set things a little more right again. Read this lady's story, hear the song, and tell me that you're not smiling now. :)

http://talent.itv.com/videos/video/item_200081.htm

Beauty is entirely, entirely transforming.

Good Friday

2009-04-11T00:15:00.003-04:00

Often, at this point in the cycle, I imagine what might be happening "down there". Maybe Hansel and Gretel (thanks Beth) met up. Maybe Hansel said, "Hey cutie" and Gretel giggled, and just like when J and I exchanged rings, the two maybe became one. It could have happened. Maybe it's happening.

But it made me think how often enormous change starts in the stillness, in the secret, without anyone knowing. A brand new person (it may as well be a brand new world) is knit together from two little cells. So quietly. So enormous. So small.

It made me think that so often, this is how God works in us. I think when we ask for good things, whether they be patience, kindness, goodness, justice, or "just" the ability to love, the answer is always "yes", but sometimes the work He starts in us is so far back and so deep in us that we can't see them right away. But they're there. I look back and think of the things I prayed for, say, 7 years ago. Today, I see them starting to come to fruition. I am a whole person. Happy. Secure. Scarred, but so very very alive. The process started so deep, I almost could have missed it. I could have despaired and given up. Maybe, at times I did. But, faithfully, He didn't. (Have you ever noticed that sometimes, the ability to ask for something - the ability to want something so hard to want - is part of the answer to the very asking? Grace breathes there too, and that, I think, is the divine chicken and egg joke.)

And here it is Good Friday, the day we remember the utter horror that faced the universe so many years ago when all hope was lost, when all faith was limp, and when God Himself was dead. Tomorrow is Holy Saturday, the gray day of stillness. The day that looked like a closet, but became a hallway. The day that looked like the end, but was really the Beginning. The day when all seemed lost, and yet those lost to death were seen walking the cities. We didn't know it at the time, but Saturday was the day death died, not God. In the stillness, in the darkness, He worked our rebirth, our release, our redemption.

But then, it makes sense. Because in the beginning, he sang all this out of nothing. It seems to be His joy to weave, out of desolation, life.

Rainy Day

2009-04-10T11:29:00.002-04:00

It's gray and rainy. Perfect weather for Good Friday for all you westerners. Straddling East and West is odd, especially with the two celebrations only a week apart. For the Orthodox, Sunday is Palm Sunday and starts the Great Holy Week. For the west, Sunday is Easter. Odd. So, we'll start out Holy Week with Easter and end it with Pascha. Hiccup. Stinking halves should quit messing around and reunite. This 1500 year Schism is inconveniencing me.

Since there's no lightning striking for my bravado, I'll assume God agrees.

Still no lightning. There are only two interpretations.

I'm feeling a bit flippant today. Forgiveness is asked.

OK. I'm going to get back to what I was supposed to be doing before I decided to take a break to make this:

Taking votes

2009-04-07T13:18:00.002-04:00

I'm now taking votes on names. J's lazy little guppies need a name and my lonely little eggs need a name. Something you can wave on a banner, you know? Let's hear the ideas.

Because they're off, and they sure as shat had better be making beelines towards each other. I got a definite, absolute, no question LH spike yesterday. Add that to a conglomeration of physical and *ahem* other symptoms, and I believe we're seeing ovulation here folks. Real, live. Friday's little foray into double-lines-on-the-stick-hood seems to have just been an exploratory move. This is the real thing. Yay. So, mark me down for one LH surge on CD16.

Yes, we broke the fast. Briefly. And without any *ahem* real perks to speak of for certain people *points at self*. Gotta keep the monks happy, ya know. (Maintaining the spirit if not the letter. It's gotta count for something.) But enough to get those guppies where they need to be. I've had a serious talk with my uterus about how it had better stop screwing around and take this seriously if she wants to avoid having cameras and turkey basters and heaven knows what else coming to call. I didn't have the same chat with J's guppies - there's just no way to talk to "it" without "it" getting other ideas. Ha.

So bring on the 2ww, the inevitable optimism, and yes, the sudden stop at the bottom. But maybe it won't come this time. Who knows?

Hooked

2009-04-06T22:15:00.002-04:00

I've been having a time of it lately. Keeping my... emotions... in check. I'm not going to dwell on it, and I'm not really going to expound. I'm just... sad. A lot. I think it's definitely linked to this IF thing, and probably just another phase to pass through. It's not rational, so I'm not really engaging it much. I talked it over with J, and he very gently suggested finding some distractions. So, I've been burying myself in books. And mosaics. Flickr's Big Huge Labs Mosaic Maker is so fun. Huzzah. So here are the three latest.

I love the moon. J sometimes calls me "Luna" (not adding "tic" to the end, though I'm sure he thinks it at times), and even wrote a poem about me once that he entitled "Luna." As it turns out, one of my dearest friends loves the moon too. So I had that mosaic printed and gave it to her.

The other two I'll let speak for themselves.

Here are some more

2009-04-05T22:28:00.007-04:00

I have a really bad head cold. So, I've been spending a good amount of time in a chair with tea... fiddling with Flickr's Mosaic Maker. I also found a really cool site where you can transfer designs to fabric - you upload the design, they print it and send it to you. I sent this first one to be printed on a "fat quarter" (18" x 20"), so we'll see how it turns out in a couple weeks. The design is the alphabet - one word per letter (4 letters got two words), then I flickr searched the words and chose a picture for each. Way fun.

No stories for the rest. Colors, flowers. Ya know. May transfer the flower one to fabric, depending on how the first order comes out.

Sorry, time

2009-04-05T14:56:00.004-04:00

I'm afraid I must issue an apology to time. I've been killing it. I made these. :) I have a couple more, but it's only letting me upload 5. Boo.

Stop Everything

2009-04-02T22:22:00.003-04:00

An alternative title for this post could, with perhaps more accuracy, be "Biological Clusterf***".

You see, I started my OPKs today and apparently am up to my knees in LH. Yes, Little Miss 35 day cycle appears to be preparing to ovulate today. W. T. F. CD12? This surge showed up a mere 3 hours after talking to the doc and estimating ovulation last cycle at being somewhere around CD21. *glares at abdomen*

Needless to say, none of us know what the bleepity bleep my body is doing. All we can tell for sure is that it's figuratively stumbling and staggering around producing whatever the heck hormones it wants at whatever the heck time it wants. I asked the doctor about it, in the second phone call of the day, and she was as nonplussed as me. I said, "I don't think my body knows what it's doing." To which she said, "Well I certainly don't know what it's doing."

There's a good chance the whole abstinence-til-Pascha thing will be put on the shelf for a short time tomorrow. We'll pick it back up again, but I'm not going to have put myself through this last hellish cycle of Clomid for nothing. Darn. Sex. :)

And I get to go in for some blood work on Monday to confirm ovulation. But I'm supposed to continue the OPKs til then, just in case it dips and then rises again. The doc has heard of an LH spike (not to be confused with a positive surge) that dipped again before the official surge started. So maybe.

Yeah. I'm going to become very good friends with needles in these upcoming months. Enthusiasm.

There comes a point when all you can do, really, is laugh a little and go to sleep.

Results

2009-04-02T11:19:00.003-04:00

I've always wanted a family. The word "big" never really played into it, but until I met J, I always thought I wanted 4. But he's already got 2, so I dropped my number of ideal hatchlings to 3. It's funny, you know, the plans we make.

We got J's results. The numbers are low. Not as obscenely low as before, but definitely low. Too low. Plus, there were infection-fighting cells present, which they didn't want to see at all. We're mildly freaked out about that because she wouldn't say what that meant aside from a possible prostate infection, but we're supposed to make an appt to see a specialist, so we'll find out then, I suppose.

I told her about the side effects I've been experiencing and I didn't even get through half of them before she said, "Whoa. OK. This is definitely your last cycle on Clomid. Visual disturbances are not good." So next on the list is injections with bloodwork and ultrasound monitoring and probably IUIs. Yes, I am a major needle-phobe. Yes, I feel woozy and nauseous thinking about it. Yes, I am going to do it.

Pfffffft.

The list

2009-03-31T13:35:00.003-04:00

Theoretically, I have a phone appointment tomorrow with the doc. I say theoretically because I'm not sure it will actually take place. Maybe she'll call today. Maybe not til Thursday. Gah.

We will be getting the results from J's latest semen analysis. Fingers crossing that the numbers are way improved since last time. WAY improved.

We're thinking seriously about an IUI this month, especially if the numbers are low. But even if they're OK, I may want to give the IUI a good shot on the Clomid.

We'll discuss what's "next". I really want off the Clomid, but I've not yet voiced that to the doc. Either way, she's doubtful we'll continue it much longer anyhow. So we'll see what she's got up her sleeve.

I'm also going to ask about one specific side effect of Clomid. Depression. I did some reading about it, and apparently it only shows up in less than 1% of those taking it, but if you've been diagnosed with depression before, the likelihood that you'll be in that <1%>

Maybe a reduced dosage of the Clomid will keep me ovulating but cut down on the myriad side effects.

In any case, that's the list. Spermies, turkey basters, new meds, down with Clomid. Check.

Annunciation

2009-03-30T12:42:00.001-04:00

I've been mulling over the Annunciation for several days now, and something said in the sermon yesterday really struck me. Father Michael was talking about a friend of his who is a Baptist pastor and lives down the street from the monastery. Pastor Baptist at one point was touring the monastery's chapel and stopped to ponder the Cross. He leaned back and pronounced, in a sort of wonder, "Jesus died on the cross for my sins!" And Father Michael said, "Well. Yes." (As Orthodox are wont to do. The "yes, but" is pretty popular amongst the bearded monastic types.) "But. That's sort of limited, isn't it? You mean to boil down all the works of the Almighty through all time and space to three hours on a hill outside of Jerusalem?" Some part of me recoils a bit even as I type that. It's easy to hear what Father said and think it seems sacreligous. But he's not minimizing the crucifixion. Consider what he said further. "All mothers know the story doesn't start at the climax. For us, on March 25, we remember that what God has done did not start on Good Friday, or Palm Sunday, or the 40 days in the wilderness, or even Christmas. God's work began the moment he wove himself into flesh in the womb of a girl who said, 'May it be as You have said.'" For this reason we honor her, and for this reason, we honor Him.

I think that's why it seems so fitting that the Annunciation should fall within Lent. Lest we forget one focal point in our concentration on another, we remember the Incarnation in the midst of the trial, and we remember that He came in flesh not just to destroy death, but to redeem flesh.

As an aspiring mother (haha), this really resonates with me. My motherhood, in a sense, started long ago, when the desire for a child was first born in me. The Fatherhood of the Almighty began before the beginning, before the Son became our Savior, and before the Father became a woman's Son. It began with his love for us, before we were born, before we were knit, before he breathed into dust and made us live.

Evlogimeni I Vasilia tou Patros ke tou Iou ke tou Agiou Pnevmatos, nin ke ai ke is tous eonas ton eonon.

Silent treatment.

2009-03-26T13:15:00.000-04:00

Clomid is not my friend, and we're not speaking to each other right now. Call it a bit of a falling-out, a disappointment. No promises were made, so I can't start crying "betrayed!" but believe you me, I'm tempted. Enter this blog's title: silent treatment. I'm still swallowing the nasty little pills, but I do it with a sneer.

The snarky tart has not only not gotten me pregnant, she's turned me into a raving headcase. Literally. I think I've raved aloud (alone) in my car more times in the last week than in the last 4 months put together. PLUS the everything-blurry-or-covered-in-squiggly-glowing-worms thing. PLUS a 7-hour long hot flash where I was sweating and hot even when I was freezing. PLUS utter. complete. insomnia. I'm talking 2 hours of sleep last night, bookended and punctuated by mostly inexplicable crying fits. Nice.

Needless to say, I think Clomid and I have gone as far as we can go and I'm searching for a new suitor. Yes, we'll finish off this round, but then I think I'm done. I'm interested to hear what the docs have up their sleeve next.

This is one of those times when stepping off the train is as exciting as stepping onto it was. A little sad, but at least it can pull away without me this time. Clomid, you're riding the roller coaster alone from now on.

-----

In other news, today is the Synaxis in honor of the Archangel Gabriel. No, I don't know what a Synaxis is. But the two prayers for today are lovely:

Apolytikion in the Fourth Tone
O Commanders of the Heavenly Host, we the unworthy beseech you, that through your entreaties you will fortify us, guarding us in the shelter of the wings of your ethereal glory, even as we fervently bow before you crying: "Deliver us from all danger, as Commanders of the Powers on high! "

Kontakion in the Fourth Tone
Supreme Commander of God and minister of the Divine glory, guide of men and leader of the bodiless hosts: Ask for what is to our profit and for great mercy, since thou art Supreme Commander of the bodiless hosts.