My Nightmare, Their Reality

I found this blog through a blog of a blog of a blog.

Please go extend your thoughts and prayers to this family who lost their little girl to cancer on Friday.

I can't even imagine.

We Interrupt My Pity Party With The Happiest News EVER

There are times when Gus and Angus have to move on over and out. . .

With nothing but pure, unadulterated joy, I happily announce the happiest miracles of all.

Kathy is pregnant! And if there was ever a family that deserved this miracle, it is the Bensons! Even Gus is celebrating!

Scoot your little bottoms over there and wish her luck. . .

Now!

Go!

What are you doing still reading this. . . go give that girl some love!

The Lingering

Well, judging by the comments to my last post, a lot of us out there have a Gus.

My own Gus has receded once again, back into the shadows of my infertile mind, but he has left an impression on me with his visit.

I think I still might need help.

After the first miscarriage, I went to see a therapist. I was in bad shape, not eating or sleeping for over a week, losing ten pounds, and my husband was worried. I only went a few times, felt better, and then used the learnings from those sessions to carry me through the next two losses. After Gummy Bear died, I went back to the therapist, because I was a mess. I kept seeing her until about my seventh month of pregnancy with Will. I just felt that I wasn't really getting anything from the therapy any longer and just didn't feel as if I needed it.

I think I might have been wrong. My therapist advised against quitting, but you know, I figured I knew myself best.

However, all of these months later, I still find myself very focused on infertility. I still grieve very much for my lost babies. I can't be happy for other people when they announce a pregnancy. I mean, yes, eventually, I get on board and can go to baby showers and all that jazz. But I don't like the way my mind works when it comes to All Things Baby.

We drove past our fertility clinic the other day, for the first time since we had been there back in the first trimester. I had a physical reaction, felt dizzy, couldn't breathe very well, and was sick to my stomach. I was distracted for the rest of the day, feeling very caught up in everything infertile.

I feel as if I am still doing a lot of looking backward and not forward. I treasure Will so very much and I don't think that he is suffering because of my infertility fixation, but I still don't feel that it is healthy. I almost think it's kind of weird.

I still feel a lot of anger. I am angry that we had to try so long and lose so many babies. I am angry that we have to plan for Baby #2 in a way that most people don't, including timing for possibly more miscarriages. I am angry that we have to budget for the conception of Baby #2 and say things like, "Well, we won't probably be able to afford to take a vacation the year that we have our FET." I am angry that every six months, we have to pay to store our embryos, sign a release form, and think about those tiny little brothers or sisters sitting on ice.

I still feel broken. I still wonder why me, why us, why our babies? I thought that once I had a successful pregnancy, this feeling would go away. It did for a little while, but now it's back.

I still feel very sad. I still cry when I think about those dark days of blood, loss, and death. I miss my babies so much. I look at Will and try to put a positive spin on it, saying to myself, "Well, we wouldn't have him if those other babies have lived."

Then I think, "But I mother shouldn't have to think like that."

And I'm angry all over again. To be honest, infertility just really frosts my cookies. I mean, c'mon, what the heck?! There are people shaking babies, tossing them into dumpsters, slapping their kids around, not feeding them dinner . . . and then there are so many people that would kill for just one, or really would like to have two, and those people are good parents and should have as many babies as they want.

Yikes. I guess my Green Eyed Monster Gus has an evil twin Monster, Angry Angus, I shall call him. It really doesn't make them any cuter to name them, does it?

I Shall Call Him Gus

There is an evil little green eyed monster living inside of me.

I have decided to call him Gus. Gus The Little Green Eyed Monster.

Yeah, that's what I thought. Calling this monster by a cute name does not make it any more cute.

What the heck is wrong with me?

I have survived a full-term pregnancy. As a result of those nineish months, I have one of the most adorable babies ever known to man. He is healthy, he is thriving, he is napping, he is sleeping, he is eating, he is even pooping - albeit in the bathtub, but still! He is happy, bouncing baby boy.

So, why is it that I still cannot hear a pregnancy announcement without Gus moving in? Why is it that even when I don't know the person well, it still irritates me that they are pregnant? It's especially bad if I know that they "weren't even trying" or "we got pregnant the first month" they tried.

Do I wish infertility and all of its hell on people? Absolutely not.

So, I ask again, what in the world is the matter with me?

Does anyone else out there have a Gus? And what do you do about yours?

Constantly Constipated

Could you please answer me a question, dearest bloggy friends?

Why is it that Will can only poop in the bathtub?

This charming little trend started about two weeks ago. The first time he did it, I freaked. I am normally not really that much of a germaphobe, BUT he has taken to sucking on the washcloth that I put in the tub with him. So, if I am not quick, he is essentially sucking poo-water.

Of course, I immediately take him out of the tub, rinse him with fresh water, and then proceed with the rest of bedtime. After he is down, I then scrub out the tub. My mother says that I shouldn't worry, that it's only a phase, but he seems constipated much of the time. I give him prune juice mixed in with his rice cereal in the mornings and we have cut back on the bananas, even though he desperately loves them. We introduced sweet potatoes to get a bit more fiber and pears are next. With all of that, he still gets red and grunts a lot, with nothing but a bit of gas to show for it.

But if I want him to poop for sure, I can just place him in the tub, and zammo! Floaties.

I believe the water probably relaxes him, but I would like other methods of getting things moving. Advice gladly accepted.

Memorial Monday

This week's Memorial Monday post is in honor of Thanh, who wrote in for his wife, Lisa, and their two angel babies.

Dear Katie,

Could you please use our story for memorial monday? Just copy and paste my e-mail if you don't mind.

My wife Lisa is the most amazing wife and will make a wonderful mother. We have lost two babies to PROM both in the second trimester. The first baby was a girl and we delivered her ourselves at home since we didn't have time to get to the hospital and didn't realize that she was in labor until it was too late. Our second baby was born last month in the hospital after several weeks of bedrest and two surgeries to help the baby stay in. The baby was a boy.

My wife has read your blog since before your son was born and I know she finds a lot of happiness in knowing that even bad stories have happy endings. I would really appreciate it if you could post our story for her because she is so sad and some days does not even get out of bed. I think that she would find it nice to have some support from your other readers.

Thank you for being so kind to others who have lost babies. It is very hard to lose babies and feel that no one cares for you or them.

Thank you.

Thanh Huong

To be featured in upcoming Memorial Mondays, please contact me by clicking on my profile link and then by clicking on my e-mail link. You can either write your story yourself or provide me with the details and I will do it for you. You may include pictures, poetry, whatever feels right. This is your memorial for your loss.

Much Ado About Nothing

Yeah, so it turns out that I am not great at keeping secrets.

I have had a lot of readers send me e-mails guessing what the big secret is. For the most part, they are right.

For the few that wondered if I was pregnant, the answer on that is no.

If you are really interested in knowing what all of the fuss is about, you can e-mail me and I am happy to share. I am just choosing not to post about a private decision in a public forum so that it doesn't possibly cause problems for us. You'll probably be a bit disappointed when you find out what the secret is. You'll probably think, "Is that all?!?"

Like most decisions in life, it's probably not as big as I think it is right now. For example, I remember being really torn about whether or not to actually do IVF. I felt like it was the "last stop" on the infertility road and if that didn't work, we would be out of options. I hemmed and hawed and it turned out to be the very best decision we've ever made. Ever.

Of course, that's what being human is all about. Weighing the pros, examining the cons, making lists of benefits, asking all of your friends, and second-guessing yourself. In the end, the best decision is usually pretty obvious to you, but it sometimes takes awhile to see it.

It is usually the decision that in your gut feels right. It's the decision that you argue for when everyone else argues against it. It's the decision that even when you feel like you've "made" the other choice, your heart keeps telling you what you really want to do. In the end, it doesn't matter how many pros are on your list, or how many friends say one way or the other, or even which one makes more "sense." It's the one that makes you feel better when you make it. You might always wonder about the path not taken, but usually, once you have decided to go down one road, you don't spend a lot of time looking back. Or if you did really mess up, you can use that experience to make different choices next time.

All that being said. . . I still don't know what to do, but I'll get there.