Trail

It's a really pretty morning: 37 degrees, low clouds, tiny breeze that cuts through you but it's only intermittent. The dog and I had our morning walk through the neighborhood and between moments of admiring the morning I thought about my impending trail run.

I started running a year ago in January, using the Couch to 5k iPhone app. (I think it's actually called something else but the effect is the same - it makes a 3-mile-runner out of a non-runner.) I'd used the program before there were smart phones, using a stopwatch and having to look down at it every five seconds. I made it to a couple of 5k races and lost interest until two years ago when C started running. Actually, at the beginning of 2011 when he started, I was still not interested; it wasn't until July or August when he'd lost 50 pounds that I started paying attention. I also wanted in on this part of his life that was doing him so much good and that he was enjoying so much.

So in January C was coming off of a back injury where he'd had to take some running time off, and we both did C25K together. It was a rough few weeks, mostly in my head, but I made it. At some point, we stopped running together; we run at different paces and lengths and when he'd speed up a hill I couldn't keep up. I felt a lot better about myself when I ran alone; the only person I could compare myself to was me.

Then the end of the year loomed, and I looked back at my year of running and was super disappointed. I hadn't lost any weight at all; in fact I had probably gained a little bit. I was never able to get above 4 miles, I never improved my pace, and there were several weeks that I didn't run at all. Ah, there was the rub. I had barely run 150 miles in an entire year and I used these short runs as an excuse to eat whatever I wanted. Even if I hadn't run at all that week.

So there I sat, on the couch, pouting; and then C laced up his running shoes for a quick run and left the house. So I laced mine up too, grabbed the dog, and followed C out. Except I went across the highway and into the woods.

The local university has a pretty extensive research forest. It includes an arboretum, a forestry area, intensive management, and miles and miles of trails. One trail in particular was recommended to me by a coworker months ago, and suddenly I had the urge to try it. I needed a change of scenery. So I did it.

I took about fifteen little running steps before the incline was too steep for me to bounce anymore, and then I hiked. The incline didn't bother the dog, who bounced everywhere, and I followed him up. Once the terrain evened out, I ran. And almost the entire second half was downhill, which felt really nice. I ran/hiked just under two and a half miles and loved it. I was almost totally alone, I could walk when I needed to, and it was actually kind of fun.

I write about this like it was ancient history, but it was only a few days ago. Today will be my third trail run. I kind of feel like those people I hate on Amazon or iTunes, rating products five stars when I just received it five minutes before, but I really am excited for this year and the potential for a big change in my health. It's not bad, going from disappointment of the past to excitement for the future in thirty minutes. All I needed was a change of scenery.

Chapter Two

I had a good conversation tonight with a friend who I met online when we were both engaged and planning on weddings a month apart. When she went through her infertility journey, I still had no idea we would end up with so much in common, but it has been so good to have her around to talk to when I feel like I'm starting to bother people with "oh, that again."

Tonight's conversation started when I read Mel's IComLeavWe post. I've thought a lot about starting to get back into the world of IF after trying to be relatively scarce for a year, and the post added fuel to the fire. I don't have a lot of infertility bloggers on my reading list, and the ones that I do have have mostly become parents and slowed way down on their posting, so I am a little behind. But being a part of ICLW means I'd have to post more, which led to my chat with E.

What do people want to read when they search for infertility blogs? Do they only want the meaty bits? Do they only want to know how the retrieval went, or how much the last injection hurt? Or do they want to read all the pieces in between - after the initial grief and shock evens out into life; the way that someone fits such a world-changing situation into the rest of their world? I imagine that a post about what one had for breakfast that doesn't speak about how it ties into their fertility diet is not a bad thing.

The infertility blogs that I read, the ones where the bloggers are becoming parents, write about almost the same thing. "Do I delete my blog now that I am moving into a new stage of my life? Should I just rename it? What will happen to my readers?" I was comparing myself to them, but really, our journeys don't end with a failed cycle any more than they end with a baby. This blog is for me. So I can look back at what happened when I was in my early thirties and remember. So that I can type out my frustrations or my happinesses. And I suppose this blog is also for readers. So the people I know in real life can see how I'm doing. So that people who are going through the same things I went through last year or the same things I'm going through now can feel like they're not alone.

So here's the deal. I will try to make this more a part of my life again. I will join IComLeavWe. I will seek out new blogs to read and friends to connect with. I won't just write a post when I have news about an appointment or just when it has something to do with infertility. Just know that every step I take comes from that place, and the mere fact that it's my life means that it's a part of my infertility story. Chapter 2: My Life Between Treatments.

Another Year

Been quiet lately, because nothing is happening. Nothing that is worth blogging about, anyway. The only baby-related things I live through are either vicarious or have to do with me writing a check to pay down our failed attempt. I sound sad but I'm not. Things are good. I'm kind of wistful sometimes, slightly offended here and there by little things, but on the whole I'm able to power through and just enjoy some more child-free time, just hoping to outrun the sad little alligator behind me with the ticking clock inside of it. So far so good. I feel like I'm running a little faster these days, too, because C got a promotion and a nice raise at work, and I feel more free to be able to pay down our debts and make that stretch of time until we can try again with the new clinic that much shorter. (Not THAT much shorter, but at least a bit.) Yesterday we got the final notice asking us to respond to OHSU about C's two vials of semen: do we want to have them destroyed, or pay $250 to keep them preserved for another year. Today, we got The Other Letter: the one about the embryos. I'll tell you one thing, we have already decided to let them go. I think I decided it way back in November when the second try failed. I just don't trust OHSU enough to try again with them; I'd feel like it was a waste of money and a waste of time. There is an option to donate the embryos to someone else who needs them, and I'm mostly happy with that option, but even though I don't trust OHSU enough to let them transfer the embryos into my womb, what if they transferred them into someone else's and it worked for them? That's hard to think about. It's selfish, I know. But I think I'm OK with that right now. So their final destination will most likely be research. I'll know more after I talk to C about it. And then the only tactile reminder of those two failures will be the writing of the monthly loan payment checks. Thank goodness for that. Onwards and upwards.

32

Kind of a mixed bag today. All my coworkers wished me a happy birthday. One of them gave me beer and something she made. But both of my receptionists were sick so I had to cover (only some of the day, though, because the beer-crafter coworker did the rest, yay), and I had to do an incredibly tedious project that made me mad, and another coworker announced her pregnancy. Though I'm usually not quick to be intensely upset anymore at news like that, it still kind of leaves a lump in my throat and a hole in the pit of my stomach that I can't shake until the news isn't fresh anymore.

And now that work is over, I'm going to spend all my energy having a good time with my husband, eating a good birthday dinner, and being happy, to counteract the workday. And tomorrow will be better.

No More Drugs

I finally turned in the rest of my IVF drugs to my local pharmacy yesterday. It ended up being a two-day process, since the pharmacist could only take the estrogen and none of the progesterone. He also couldn't take any of my sharps unless I bought a container from him, which ended up being fine because I needed to load all of my clean needles into it too. (Of course, now that I'm thinking about it, it might not have been a bad thing to save myself a little money and keep my clean needles. Oh well.) So I shoved all my needles into the new container and took it back the next day. It feels good not to have that paper bag anymore.

I've been keeping myself distracted. I bought a ukulele and am noodling with it. Work is ramping up and will continue until our annual conference, for which I'll be flying across the country in March. Overall I feel good. Except for one weird quirk I apparently picked up (or continued, really, from the Year of Trying Naturally): around ovulation, I get really panicky. I haven't started back up with the FAM temping because logically I know it's not worth it, but when I'm fertile I feel like we need to TRY RIGHT NOW and then TRY AGAIN TOMORROW TOO. Of course it's never good timing, which makes the panic a little worse. I can't wait for my emotions to catch up with my brain.

Looked at various adoption websites in my spare time, too. Just don't feel like I'm ready for that step quite yet. I still have some IVF fight left in me.

The Long Winter

I have a feeling I'll be pretty scarce, as there's never much to say when all you're doing is waiting.

I emailed ORM to ask if it'd be worth it to have a consult even though we couldn't start another round until we have more money, and they said it wasn't. I threw in another question about whether it'd be worth it for them to transfer my remaining embryos, even though I was pretty sure of the answer, and they said it wasn't.

So here I sit, listening to the figurative winter winds blowing outside, hoping for a miraculous natural conception again. That's about all I can do.