Warning: Pedantry ahead

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.