Aftershocks of Infertility and Failed IVF

So, I've written all about our failed IVF treatments.  I've told you how they affected us while we were going through them.  I have not yet told you about the aftershocks.  They rippled through our entire lives, and affected us in countless ways.

First off, we agreed to jump right back on the bandwagon.  We were going to try IVF again in October 2008.  But then the fighting started.  The harsh words.  The blame.  The avoidance of each other.  The drinking to forget (for me).  Our relationship went downhill, and it went so fast that no one even realized how bad it had gotten until we hit rock bottom.

Rock bottom started on the day that we started sleeping in different bedrooms.  Then K moved out and in with his mom.  We talked less and less, and when we did, it was always fighting.  I remember the day my boss put an offer on the table for me to move for work.  I told him No, but then when I told K about it he freaked and thought I said yes.  We screamed at each other over the phone for my entire 2 hour drive home.  That was the night that we started sleeping in different rooms.  He moved out right before Thanksgiving, but we still hosted a family dinner.  It was the absolute pit of Hell for both of us, and ended with me locking myself in my bedroom bawling.

We started to live our own lives.  We starting talking about divorce.  We couldn't look at each other.  But he did tell me that I would have to file, that he never would.

I finally went back to my boss and told him I was interested in what he could do for me to move, 4 hours away.  I needed out.  A week later, he offered me a moving package that I couldn't refuse.  I told K.  He was upset, but took it in stride.  Looking back now, that move was the best thing for us at the time.  We were so angry with one another.

With the decision of divorce, we both started dating other people.  I moved.  He went back to school.  We both lived the single life, and for a time, loved it.  We still had to talk because we owned our house back home.  I had started going to church before I moved, but now I started RCIA classes and decided to be baptized catholic.  We spent a lot of time talking about the rite of marriage and it hurt to know that I was throwing that rite away.  I started realizing how much I missed K, the him before we dealt with infertility.  The me before we dealt with infertility.  I was afraid to admit that to him, or even really myself.  I continued to date, so did he.  I got counseling, and slowly came to grips with the tragedy I had endured, with the loss of my babies, and inadvertantly, with the loss of my love, my husband. 

Slowly, the talks became less fighting and more talking.  We became friends again.  We even had some talks about the people we were dating.  The more we talked, the more we talked, if that makes sense.  I started finding myself checking my phone to see if I had texts from him, even when I was with the guy I was dating.  That became my sign.  I knew what I had thrown away.  K had always said I would have to file for divorce, but I could never bring myself to do it.  But I didn't think he'd have me back.  Not after what I had done. 

I ended things with the guy I was seeing.  K and I started talking more.  I was so afraid to let him know how I felt.  He was no longer dating anyone either.  He said it though, he was stronger than I was, 'Let's try this again.'  I was so afraid, afraid that it wouldn't work, and that one of us would hurt the other.  We had plans to see each other over Christmas, and I told him that we would see how that went and go from there.  He agreed.  We talked about it more and more.  We saw each other a couple of times, but it was a non intimate situation.

Then the other shoe fell.  The one thing that in my mind could ruin any chances of making it happen.  I never realized that in the long run it wouldn't have that effect at all.

I found out I was pregnant.

Somewhat ironic that someone who thought they couldn't get pregnant ended up pregnant 'by accident.'  I thought I knew my cycle, but I messed it up one month.  I forgot that while I always considered US infertile (and still do), I forgot to remember that I could get pregnant, that we suffered from severe Male Factor Infertility, and there was 'nothing' wrong with me.  I got careless.  When I found out it was a moment of pure joy, I was elated beyond belief, then I had the moment where I thought to myself that it was the wrong situation. 

The day I told K I cried so hard.  He took it well, but he cancelled our plans for the night and went out to have his alone time.  I was devestated, and had prepared myself for single parenthood.  But I was wrong about K.  He called me and said, 'you know, this is what we always wanted.  wanting this almost destroyed us, and now we've been offered a miracle.  I love you and love our child.'  He also pointed out that we were getting divorced, that he made the same choices that I did, he did the same things that I did, but he really couldn't get anyone else pregnant.

He opened his arms and took me back, with unconditional love.  I'm not saying we haven't had to work hard, because we have.  We had a lot of hurdles to get over, a lot of apologizing and forgiving to do.  But we did it.  We made it in one piece.  We learned how to communicate.  But it has all been worth it and now we are stronger than ever.  K adopted Bug, so we are truly one unit, one family, Bug is his daughter, period.  We even have to catch ourselves before giving K's medical history for her. 

I was baptized at Easter last April.  I was 6 months pregnant, and it was right before my 30th birthday.  I thank God, literally, for giving me my life and love back.  I thank him for making me see the light, I thank Him and my counselor for getting me to accept and move on from my demons.  We go to church every week, with very few exceptions.  We have finally found GodParents for Bug (virtually no one we know is Catholic), and are getting ready to baptize her.  Every day, every week, I thank God for K, for Bug, and yes, for our sperm donor.  I thank God for helping me to get back on path, and to help keep me on it.  When I struggle, I talk to K now instead of keeping it in.  I am, in a good way, a changed woman.

The wrong situation turned out to be the best thing of my, of our, lives.

Nursing at Daycare

So, I have been extremely fortunate in that the daycare we put Bug in is very close to my work.  So, every day at lunch I go and nurse her.  I love it because I get to see all the different things that they do with the babies, I get to see the good and the bad days, and I've gotten to know the teachers really well.  Overall it's been a great experience, and I can probably count on less than two hands how many days I have not been able to go due to work duties interfering.

So, one day last week after I nursed her and was leaving she fussed a little.  This was new, but one of the teachers occupied her while I left and she was all good.

This weekend she go her oh so known congestion.  The congestion that comes about every few weeks, and last time she had it turned into Pneumonia.  Bummer.  Poor little thing. 

So, this morning she wasn't feeling real well.  That was evidenced in the number of times she woke up last night, which, of course, left mama tired this morning too.

I went to nurse her at lunch, and she had just spit up pretty much everything in her tummy shortly before.  Needless to say, she was hungry and NOT in the mood to wait for the letdown.  Finally she held on long enough between cries and got her letdown.  She fell asleep while nursing, so I put her in the crib and patted her back for a few before I got ready to leave.  She ended up waking up and crying before I had made it away from her crib.  As it wasn't her actual nap time, I went ahead and picked her up and calmed her down (because it was very very unhappy crying).  So, she calmed down and I snuggled with her a little more then passed her off to one of the teachers (that she normally loves!).  Bawling ensued.  I'm not sure if it's just because she doesn't feel well, or if the dreaded separation anxiety is hitting.  Or maybe a bit of both.  Either way, it was heartbreaking and I didn't like it.  Not. One. Bit.

My poor little buggy.  I really hate that I can't just make it all better.

K got the stomach bug that I had this weekend.  Except his only lasted 24 hours, lucky dog.  He was down for the count for that time frame though, poor guy... I felt his pain.  He apologized for not taking good enough care of me while I was sick, it was really cute.

He's out of here again Thursday morning.  Catching his flight out at 6:00am.  Luckily the crew security line goes fast, so he doesn't have to be there at like 4:00am.  But, I'm gonna really really miss him.  His due home date is 4/15, which is the day AFTER my birthday.  Oh well, that's how it goes.  I just hope that they don't keep him out again this month like they did last month.  I feel like we've only had about 2 weeks together in the last 9 weeks or so.

Ahh the life of a pilot's wife!!

~Emms