Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

I'm not going to sugarcoat things, or make them seem less than they are. When I say I'm a worrier, I mean it entirely, and it is so debilitating.

That isn't to say I always worry, though. There comes to me, throughout my life, experiences that strengthen me, ease my mind, and give me guidance for the future. I had one of those experiences today, and however small it might seem, it helped me so much.

The experience was, quite simply, finally remembering to watch a talk given by a leader of my church some weeks ago, at a time when I was actually ABLE to watch it. I knew I wanted to, but I didn't know what the talk contained, and I think it no small coincidence that it was today that I watched it, when I've been oh so worried.

The talk is called "Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread" by Elder D. Todd Christofferson, and can be found here in text form, and here in video form.

Although everything he said seemed to apply to me and the trials I experience daily, one thing in particular stood out in relation to my fears that I will miscarry this miracle baby I've been blessed with. Here is the quote:

I was impressed by something a senior officer said to the group as they began the final and most demanding phase of their training.

“First of all,” he said, “I do not want you to give in to the pressure of the moment. Whenever you’re hurting bad, just hang in there. Finish the day. Then, if you’re still feeling bad, think about it long and hard before you decide to quit. Second, take it one day at a time. One [phase] at a time.

“Don’t let your thoughts run away with you, don’t start planning to bail out because you’re worried about the future and how much you can take. Don’t look ahead to the pain. Just get through the day, and there’s a wonderful career ahead of you.”1

Generally it is good to try to anticipate what is coming and prepare to deal with it. At times, however, this captain’s counsel is wise: “Take it one day at a time. … Don’t look ahead to the pain. Just get through the day.” To worry about what is or may be coming can be debilitating. It can paralyze us and make us quit.

In the 1950s my mother survived radical cancer surgery, but difficult as that was, the surgery was followed with dozens of painful radiation treatments in what would now be considered rather primitive medical conditions. She recalls that her mother taught her something during that time that has helped her ever since: “I was so sick and weak, and I said to her one day, ‘Oh, Mother, I can’t stand having 16 more of those treatments.’ She said, ‘Can you go today?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, honey, that’s all you have to do today.’ It has helped me many times when I remember to take one day or one thing at a time.”

The Spirit can guide us when to look ahead and when we should just deal with this one day, with this one moment. If we ask, the Lord will let us know through the Holy Ghost when it may be appropriate for us to apply in our lives the commandment He gave His ancient Apostles: “Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient is the day unto the evil thereof” (3 Nephi 13:34; see also Matthew 6:34).

Not surprisingly, this is exactly what I needed to hear. It was the sentiment that I was trying so hard in my last post to express, the conviction that I needed to have for myself, the strength I was trying to muster. I need to forget that the future might be grim. I need to conquer these fears and be thankful today, get through today, and then I can take on tomorrow.

It helped me so much to read this, and I know it came to me at exactly the time I needed to hear it. How grateful I am for experiences like these that help me to know that I have a loving Heavenly Father who is truly watching over me and my little family.

Go Figure

Being rather anxious about my progesterone and estrogen levels, I decided to go today to have my bloodwork done rather than on Monday, even though Saturday is my lab's busiest day of the week...

...only to find after a while of waiting that my doctor ordered the usual gamut of pregnancy tests and completely neglected to mention the progesterone and estrogen! So no, they weren't tested. And yes, I nearly cried, right there in the middle of the lab.

I went and sat back down, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest.

I decided to have the rest of the samples drawn today anyway, because I'd already waited a while. But inwardly, I was pretty disappointed and worried. Okay, so maybe it was more like seethingly angry and panicking. Angry because this requisition took a lot of time to get yesterday and it wasn't even what I needed, and panicking, because it felt in that moment like it'd be too late by late Monday, which would be the earliest I could get in again, and SURELY this pregnancy would not last until Monday...

I know, such gloomy thoughts! I don't know how I kept it together, but I did. I think it helped that there was someone I knew from church working there that day, she actually ended up doing the blood draw, and she was empathetic and sweet.

I did eventually lose it in full force at home on my dear husband, who bewilderedly tried to console me while I sobbed into a pillow. It was a glorious scene.

I'm happy to say that I've cheered up since, but this is so confusing and frustrating. It's hard to remain optimistic, but I know I need to, because, why borrow trouble? If something is going to go wrong, I would want to have enjoyed now rather than preemptively worrying about it. I'm pregnant now, regardless of the future. I'm just going to be thankful for that.

An upbeat attitude isn't going to stop me from taking repeated pregnancy tests for reassurance behind Matt's back though, now is it?! My count is up to 7, and I have one left I'm saving for tomorrow morning.

I'm rambling now, I'm sorry. It's probably because I'm distracted by Groundhog Day in the background! I'm going to wrap this up now!

One

My little boy turned one yesterday, and it was, in a word, momentous. It's not every day you turn one, you know!

It was a great day, Elijah was so good, slept well, let me tidy, even let me prepare dinner!

Then Matt arrived home exactly when he began to be needed, and dinner went off without one single hitch. That has never happened before, and a small part of me is sad to not be hosting anything for the next couple years. Only a small part of me though! I find hosting things stressful and I don't enjoy myself nearly as much as everyone else does.

But enough about me, here's the birthday boy!

[caption id="attachment_590" align="aligncenter" width="200" caption="This is his, "Oh mommy, you've GOT to try this stuff!" face."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_591" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="I just love this photo."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_592" align="aligncenter" width="200" caption="He needed a bath afterwards..."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_593" align="aligncenter" width="200" caption="And just because he's cute, here's one more!"][/caption]

It was so strange to remember when he came into this world, and to think of how far he has come in a year. Things are far from perfect, but they're still good. He does NOT have a debilitating form of Spina Bifida. He's through with his 8-month run of constipation. He's so close to walking and talking. His allergy is so mild that I'm sure he'll grow out of it by the time he's 2.

And that's just physically! This little boy is such a gem, such a loving, snuggly, fun, crazy kid. I love him with all my heart, and am so thankful for him. In a way I feel guilt towards him when I think of how I'm pregnant again, like I won't be able to give him as much attention as he needs, or love him as wholly as I'd like to.

On the pregnancy front, I think it's starting to sink in. I'm trying to not feel the whole, "Waiting for the other shoe to drop" thing, because that prevented me from really enjoying the first 12 weeks of Elijah's pregnancy, and obviously everything turned out fine. Sometimes I do agree with that whole, "hope for the best, prepare for the worst" mentality, but most of the time I think that it's horribly pessimistic, and you must be unhappy to live like that.

I've taken 5 tests so far, each getting progressively darker. It's very reassuring. Also, for Elijah's 12-month appointment today, I mentioned to my doctor about being pregnant, and requested some tests. We did an in-house urine test and even the doctor said I'm pregnant! That REALLY made it real, because she's not one to sugarcoat things.

We also found that I have a UTI, which is no fun, but I'm glad we caught it now.

One of the tests I requested was checking my progesterone levels. I try to not worry about it too much, but there is this nagging fear that, because of the whole previously mentioned luteal phase defect while nursing, that somehow my progesterone still isn't high enough and this pregnancy won't last without some help on that front. I hope I'm wrong, I hope it's fine. My doctor takes the thinking that, "If a pregnancy is going to end in a miscarriage, there is very little one can do about it anyway." I completely disagree!!! I mean, why else have fertility specialists, RE's, MFMs, etc??? But she didn't object to the test, so that's good. I'll find out the level, and then decide where to go.

Still so weird. I've told a couple friends in real life (hi Elizabeth!) and decided just today to tell family now too. I'm excited, and want them to be too. Also, it'll help with the sinking in thing.

Alright, I'm going to finish rambling now. I hoped that writing it out would help my brain to digest it all a little more, but it totally hasn't! Here's hoping for some good results after tomorrow's bloodwork.

Speechless

Can you see it? It's there, I promise.

I...

Oh gosh.

I don't even know what to say. My feelings are overwhelming to me, and I can't sort out my thoughts.

I feel grateful. SO incredibly grateful. Shocked and overwhelmed, most definitely. But I can't grasp why I have been given this immense blessing. I hoped, of course I did, but I was prepared for it to take a lot longer.

My mind is reeling. I *think* I'm not quite 4 weeks along, and that I'm due about October 5th.

This is weird.

A Girl After My Own Heart

So this evening I went to the drugstore under the premise of buying a 90th birthday card for Matt's step-grandfather, but really it was for pregnancy tests and chocolate (a good combination, no?)

I got to the checkout and noticed when the tests were rung up that they were on sale. Here is the conversation that followed:

Me: Oh, I didn't know they were on sale. Bonus!
Cashier: With my last pregnancy I bought so many tests that I ended up just buying dollarstore ones, these are so expensive!
Me: I know! I found a place to buy them online for only $0.50, it's so much nicer...
Cashier: Ohh, I did that for the ovulation kits! (!!! She knows about OPK's?! And USED them?!)
Me: I do that too! But when you're out, and you've got to test...
Cashier: I know!

So, nothing earth-shattering, but I can't tell you how excited it made me to meet someone who had obsessed enough to find out that there are $0.50 OPK's and HPT's to be had online. It was a moment of...I don't know, acceptance? Sisterhood?

Whatever it was, it made my day.

As I left the store I thought to myself how funny it is that I normally feel so embarassed to buy pregnancy tests, like I'm some teenager trying to hide it from their parents, and making sure it isn't the cashier they know personally! I felt that way for years when buying pads and tampons, like people shouldn't know I get my period, and now I feel like that about pregnancy tests. The above experience helped me to realize the cashier isn't sizing me up and guessing about my marital relations and whatever other nonsense I think when I'm feeling insecure.

Am I the only one to feel this way? Does anyone else ever feel a little insecure about buying HPT's???

I Give Up

Or at least I'm trying to! Come on universe, throw this poor girl a bone already! I don't care if it's not going to be this cycle, REALLY, I'm fine! Just please, if it's not, why this dragging on? Why!?

Okay, enough of my complaining to the universe and everyone else.

In all seriousness, though, I'm so confused. CD42. No, I didn't test this morning, because I'm impatient and wasted that test on Saturday when I knew that I shouldn't. And it was negative, of course!

Saturday my CP seemed to be low and open, so I figured I'd be getting my period that day or Sunday. Then yesterday, my cervix starts inching back upwards and feels closed. Gosh how I wish I knew nothing about CP's now, because it does make a girl hope. Like, a heck of a lot. ***sigh***

So that's on my mind a lot right now.

Things with our house are picking up a bit. I've managed to get two big rooms packed and we've started on the kitchen. We've also gone through and picked out everything we don't want to keep or pack, so hurray, no more sorting!!

It's SO strange to me that we're moving in 3 1/2 weeks though. When I see that '3' number I get a little stressed. That's really not long at all.

And oh my goodness, on my crummy, stressed day, my husband just walked in the door, home from work 2 hours early. I love that man, he is my HERO.

Excuse me while I go celebrate!

Acceptance

So I've pretty much accepted that my body is whacked-out. CD37 here, SERIOUS cramp-age last night, and yet, that blasted cervix just isn't about to give up the ghost any time soon and let me have my period already!

On the upside, I'm getting pretty good at knowing how to read my cervix. For instance, I hereby make a prediction that my period will not come today, nor will it come tomorrow.

No matter, really, because if my OPK's were about to turn positive on CD30, then I'd have O'd around CD31, and am therefore not expecting my period until Saturday or Sunday anyway (luteal phase defect. It's a kicker.)

But hey, who's counting?

I've decided to not waste my last $10 pregnancy test by testing any time before Monday. I'm sure you'll hear from me before then, but still. (...I don't really know how to finish that sentence.)

One thing I have not found acceptance with yet, however, is what on earth we should do month-to-month.

This trying business is tiring me out, and it's so confusing. It kills me to think that, because I'm still nursing, it's possible that I can't even GET pregnant right now, and I'm just burning out for no reason.

See, I started taking OPK's a few months back, and found (2 cycles in a row, anyway) that I got a positive OPK on CD22, and then got my period 10 days later, so roughly 9 days after ovulating.

At that rate I can't get pregnant, so I should just call it quits until I'm done nursing, right?

But no!

I tried taking B6 one cycle, and my hopes were up, that it'd be the change needed.

No luck.

And then I stopped nursing through the night! Surely THAT would be a significant enough decrease for my body to lengthen out that luteal phase.

No luck.

It feels like each cycle I come up with a fix-it solution that never works in the end.

Maybe the fix-it solution that I need to come to terms with is, quite simply, giving up.

Not for good, but at least for now.

I think this would be good for me, but I'm finding it takes a lot more strength to do than I had originally thought. Because it's not simply giving up, it's giving over my will to Heavenly Father. It's trusting that there is a reason for all this stress, this frustration, this non-pregnant-ness, and trusting that all things will work together for good in the end.

It's so hard though. SO hard. Because I'm a control freak, and like to be doing something! Ever since we started trying 5 1/2 years ago, I've been a doer. For example, here's our TTC timeline (which I may or may not post on my sidebar, so I'm sorry if this seems repetitive at any time!

We tried for the first year. A lot. Half-way through that first year, I learned about the Justisse method of family planning, which simply was learning how to check my cervical position and checking my cervical mucous. (Holly takes control! Take that randomness!)

The moment our year was up (I actually tried getting them to take a look at us before the year was up, but no luck!) we went to our family doctor. Preliminary tests indicated something very wrong, we were going to need the fertility clinic.

I called right away for an appointment. Umm, same day I think.

While waiting for our appointment (a 2-month wait) I looked into international adoption. We attended seminars, contacted case-workers to do our homestudy, and were referred to some optional (now mandatory) training (the P.R.I.D.E. training.)

We decided to adopt internationally.

We changed our minds, and then found out a week later that the country we were going to adopt from closed their program unexpectedly.

We started fertility testing.

A week later we met with an adoption worker to take the PRIDE training anyway, and adopt locally through our children's aid society, assuming that we'd call it off as soon as I got pregnant anyway.

8 months of fertility treatments, a failed IVF and lots of heartache later, we got the call to start the training which we had been on a waiting list for.

PRIDE training at the same time as the homestudy.

Homestudy approved!

Begin the 1 1/2 year wait to adopt. This was such a frustrating time! It was the only throughout the whole thing where all I could do was just SIT there. And it Drove. Me. Crazy.

Then I found out I was pregnant!

And all of this unfolded in a 4-year time frame, with us moving as fast as we possibly could, and here we are.

So, (VERY) long story short, giving up and turning my will over to Heavenly Father is hard. (sorry for the ramble.)

Anyway, I've had a long day of packing (we move one month today!) and I still have more to do, so I'm going to finish this up now. (How's that for eloquence? ;)

Mixed Signals

My body is totally sending me mixed signals right now, and I'm trying my hardest to not go nuts.

Today is CD34, and still nothing, which isn't too odd, because my cycles since Elijah have ranged from 30-38 days long. But still. Most of them have been 30 or 31 days, so any time it passes then, well of course I get my hopes up.

And then there's my blasted cervical position. What is going ON with it?! Yesterday and today, EWCM, with an increasingly high, though firm and closed cervix. Random cramping to boot.

Curse that blasted hope.

I apologize for griping about this so much, I'm just...thinking a lot about it, I guess. It helps me to write it out, almost like it's being removed from my head at the same time. Almost!

I really don't know what to think. Was my body getting ready to ovulate around CD29-30? If I HAD have gone out and spent another $35 on more OPK's, would I have seen a surge on the 30th? Is my body getting ready to ovulate now?

I tested again on CD32, but nadda. I've wanted to test every day since, but at the same time have really strongly NOT wanted to test, for fear that the hope that is building inside of me will crumble, and I'll be left repeatedly checking a negative test for some hint of a line, and waiting for days on end to come for a period that just won't show its ugly face.

So for now, I hope.

Hope is such a good, beautiful thing, but it's dangerous too. Hope leads me to do silly things, like calculate due dates, and milestones, and estimates of when I'll tell people.

In case you can't tell, I'm a go-big-or-go-home sort of person. If I'm interested in something, my mind hooks on to it, is completely absorbed by it. Sooo when I hope, it's all or nothing with me. I have no self control to tell mind to just "Not go there." I mean, I even think of names, for Pete's sake!

I have so little patience, it's really quite laughable at times!

But in other news...

We had our home inspection yesterday for selling our house, and afterwards the couple counter-offered a price $1500 less than what we agreed to, stating the the home inspector saw two windows that needed to be replaced immediately. I don't agree with the immediately part (we're doing fine without having done them!) but they do need doing soon, and $1500 is really not an unreasonable amount to be talked down after a home inspection. We agreed to it without any fuss, mostly because we just want to sell the house and move on.

So we're still waiting to make sure they sign everything off by Tuesday evening and then it's final and official! I'm celebrating now as if it's final and official, but by that point I'll have the go-ahead, so Matt will be on board with celebrating too! AND then I can start packing!

Is it really silly that I'm excited to pack?

I've already started some things, mostly cupboards and closets that don't make the house look too packed up yet. As Matt says, just in case the house doesn't sell right now.

I called him a pessimist.

He said he's just a realist.

I don't see the difference.

Okay, so here's something REALLY silly. I'm considering (pretty strongly) getting a second/subsequent degree at my university.

Isn't that ridiculous? Not the education, the whole, going to school again thing, starting at point zero.

Wasn't it just the other day I said how fat, old, unstylish and out-of-place I felt, taking my last university course of this undergrad degree?

It absolutely was.

I can't really explain it, even to myself. I just...like learning. I like knowing I'm doing something with myself, expanding my mind, gaining credentials. It's something I want to pass on to my children. Not the credentials, just, the ability and tendency to learn, to expand, to grow your mind, to be productive and busy.

Also, a part of me feels like it'd be different if I went into this degree knowing full well that I'm only EVER going to be part time, and that I'm NOT a peer to my classmates. I just need to embrace that role, the whole, mature student thing. There were always a few in my classes, it's not terribly uncommon. I just never realized until this past week that I had become that person. My mindset was still all...peer-ish.

Anyway, the degree I'm finishing right now is a BA (pass) in Applied Linguistics. Technically it's a humanities class, and I think I want to get into something completely unrelated. I considered French, but I'm just not interested enough in it. I'm leaning more towards a Math or Science-related one, probably Kinesiology.

The great thing is that I only need to complete the specific course requirements, which are only about 12 out of 20 credits. Score! So really, it's not even 3 years of schooling that I need to get this degree, and how cool would it be to have it?

So I'm rambling now about things that are probably boring to everyone but me. Sorry for being That Blog today. I'm just going to finish this up now before I say anything else that's boring!

No Title

Today has been an interesting day, full of ups and downs, to the point where I don't even know how to quickly summarize it.

The biggest thing to me is that I started back at school for my last university course ever (at least for this degree!)

Total mixed emotions where this is concerned though.

I'm excited to be going to school again, but also to graduate in June.

I'm lonely because all of my classmates are looooong gone, and I know no-one.

I feel old. OH so old...and that's just silly. I'm not old, I'm 26, but when I look around at the people in my class and think about how they were little first years the last time I was at school, I just...I don't know. Feel old. Especially when the girls beside me have a conversation like this:

A - I really like the taste of bananas, I just don't like the texture, you know?
B - Yeah, I get that too!
A - Yeah, like, they're really yummy, but they're just...you know?
B - Totally. It's like...you know?

Yeah, they were smrt.

And see, now I'm being a snob, because they took way better notes than I did, and might very well be the 90's students, but right now, I have them pegged at the 70 overall. Ach, I'm being a snob again! Sorry.

So I felt old at school, and frumpy, and unstylish. Well, the unstylish is true, but I don't have money to change it! Ha.

I won't even get into how overweight I felt. All I'll say is, How can you not feel enormous when you're surrounded by gloriously thin 20-year-olds? I was thin then too, so I shouldn't be jealous, and should just accept it for what it is if I'm not prepared to do something about it, but a part of me can't help but let my self-esteem take a hit.

Okay, there, that sums up my school experience today! Enough complaining. As Jeffrey R. Holland says, "There's no problem in life so bad that complaining about it won't make it worse!" SO true, but often so hard to live by! There's something satisfying about complaining, even if you feel worse after you do.

We haven't heard anything more about the house yet, but really we're just waiting for a date for the home inspection. As we're getting a snowstorm right now, I doubt it'll be any time in the next couple days.

But hey, SNOWSTORM!!! I love looking out over our city and seeing the sky all pinky-orange, knowing that the streetlights' light is reflecting off of the countless snowflakes falling from the sky. It amazes me how light the night-sky is during a snowstorm. And, while I don't look forward to shovelling tomorrow, I DO look forward to grabbing a hot chocolate and settling in to play a board game when Matt gets home in 20 minutes. I love home nights.

This post is all across the board right now, my apologies.

Elijah had an interesting day today, and I don't quite know how well it's going to go, with me having school every Tuesday afternoon. He only napped for 1/2 an hour this morning, so he was a bear for Matt, and by the time I got home at 4:45pm, Matt's eyes were starting to bug out, and he disappeared downstairs for some quiet, sane time while I fed Eli dinner. Part of me feels quite validated, but the other part knows that Matt already knew I find some days impossible, and him experiencing it doesn't make it any easier for supporting me.

I've been going a little crazy today too. Just now I started writing it all out, realized it was boring to read about, and deleted it, so here's the quick version:

(TMI, but...) you know that feeling where you can FEEL your period starting? I've been having that all day. With cramps. So I've been running to the bathroom, all blasted day. And nothing! Nadda. So I check my cervical position and for some annoying reason it's super-high, as if I'm either a) ovulating, or b) pregnant.

I take my last (EXPENSIVE...) OPK, and it's a little darker than normal, but not positive. CD29 people. I've been testing for 2 weeks now, and no, no surge. Now it's my last one, and it's going to go darker on me? Of course I want to test again, but that's another $35. Arg. And ugh. And maybe some more ARG.

HPT was negative this morning, despite my much squinting, and repeated re-checks.

I don't understand my body in the least. I've officially thrown in the towel. You win, Universe! I admit defeat!!

No really though, I AM frustrated, but I also know I'm over-analyzing everything. I really do need to just give it up, and leave it to Heavenly Father. As I said before, I have confidence that it will happen again at some point for us. I guess I was just hoping or thinking that, because selling the house is finally falling into place, that it's finally time for that to happen, that maybe, just maybe it was time for this to happen as well.

If it is? Oh gosh, words, can't express.

But if it isn't? Life will go on, I'm sure of it.

Matt's home now and he brought me some ginger molasses cookies from Tim Horton's. Oh how I love that boy! I'm going to go spend some time with him and enjoy this snowstorm we're getting. Here's hoping we'll be able to surface tomorrow!!

Going, going, gone!

My house sold.

Whoa, wait, can that be true? It doesn't feel true. Maybe saying it again will help?

My house sold.

Nope. Nadda. No feelings tied to that apart from disbelief.

But it's true, and I need to keep telling myself it's true over and over so that I can actually manage to wrap my head around it!

It's not like the house was even for sale that long! It felt like a long time, but really, we listed it in August, and now it's January, so...what, 5 months? Not bad! Granted, we had a lot of showings, like, between 10 and 15, and most houses in our neighbourhood were selling within 3 weeks of listing, but I'm not complaining. I'm just trying to trust that it's happening at the time that is the best for us.

Apparently they had the offer first thing Sunday morning, but our real estate agent knows that we don't do business, shop, having showings, etc. on Sundays, so that good man waited until first thing this morning to call with the offer.

The funny thing is, as he was calling our house with the offer, Matt and I were driving in the car. Well, that's not the funny thing, but this is the conversation we had while driving:

Me: Maybe we'll get an offer today! (I've been saying this for 2 days now...)
Matt: Yup, maybe.
Me (after a bit of silence): But probably not.
Matt: No, probably not. It does feel like it'll never happen though, doesn't it?
Me: Totally, especially after so many showings. It's best to not get our hopes up.

Okay, not so funny in print, but still, I find it funny that our real estate agent was trying to call our house at that very moment. What followed was a conversation all about how nothing in life feels like it will ever happen until it happens, and I've been thinking about that a lot today, as a result.

When we were engaged, it felt like we'd always be engaged.

When we were trying, it felt like I'd never get pregnant.

When we were adopting, it felt like we'd never get The Call.

When I was in school full-time, it felt like (feels like...) I'd never graduate.

Now that Elijah is almost 1, even with a year's worth of growth behind him, it feels like he'll never be anything but what he is right now.

It felt this morning like our house would never sell, and now it has.

Instead, it now feels like we'll never actually move.

It feels like I'll never get pregnant again.

It feels like I'll never get older, like I'll never get thinner, like life has just been frozen, and it would be impossible to change it.

I don't mean to be depressing, it's just how it FEELS. Well, most of the time, anyway. See, when we were adopting, I daydreamed about it a lot and had an idea of how it would go, so sometimes I could have said, "Yes, I can picture it happening!" but really, no. If it had have happened, then it'd be surreal just like this is.

Which makes me think we can't possibly prepare for life, both the good and bad. Even if we knew it was coming, and WHEN it was coming, it wouldn't help. In fact, it might make it harder, because it'd make the days leading up to it oh so long.

Like, with wanting to get pregnant again. If I knew I would, and WHEN I would, then I might be sad with how long I had to wait. Or excited that it'd be NEXT WEEK (I wish....ha.) I think I don't actually want to know, though, because it seems less exciting that way.

Anyway, I have to apologize, as none of this is coming across how I mean for it to.

Right now, life feels great, and exciting, like one big adventure. I can't wait to see what the next month and half holds until we move, and what life will look like in our apartment. I can't wait to see how school is going to be (I start tomorrow!) and I can't wait to graduate in June. I can't wait for Elijah to wake up from his nap so we can go sign papers, and I can't wait to go out for dinner to celebrate.

This is good timing for us. I can feel it. Heavenly Father knows what he is about. I just have to remember that, and let go of my own schedule (in ALL things...)

Something IF is trying to steal from me

Infertility. Ohhhhh how many things I could say about IF. I have many beefs with it, but I don't have time to write them all out.

My current beef is this.

I have become a pee-on-a-stick (POAS) addict. Before Elijah came along I didn't know cheap ovulation tests (OPK's) existed, or cheap pregnancy tests for that matter. I sunk a lot of money into pregnancy tests, and had to deal with SO many negatives before finally seeing a positive.

But I DID see a positive.

I feel assured that I will get pregnant again. I know it'll happen.

The only question is "when."

We weren't "trying" per se when I got pregnant with Elijah, which is to say that I knew what day of my cycle I was on, and probably tried to make sure we gave it our best shot around That Time, but beyond that we weren't even thinking about it. No OPK's, no cervical checks, no constant obsessing over the quality of my discharge. None of it.

And you know what? It was nice.

But I think I was only in such an accepting state then because we were planning on and waiting to adopt.

When my period came back and really started becoming regular in May (okay, so I thought it came back in March, but it took a 2.5 month hiatus after that...) I have been hyper-aware of, well, everything.

See, we were in a state of not trying, but not preventing. Mostly because, after 4 years of infertility, the idea of using birth control of any form seems ludicrous, so if I happened to get pregnant before we wanted to start trying, we would probably celebrate and not cry about it.

So I happened to start actively monitoring my cycle. For curiousity's sake, you know? So that when we WERE trying, I'd have some Knowledge. The good kind. Like, "I always ovulate on day 21" or some such other nonsense.

Oh, for Pete's sake, I was trying. I wanted the surprise pregnancy when Elijah was still a baby. I wanted the miracle story of this girl who was infertile, going to adopt, got pregnant after 4 years, and then (AND THEN!) got pregnant when her baby was only a baby still. I wanted that. I still do!

So I put a lot of thought into each cycle. Each day became long. Like, "What? I'm only on day 24? Well, if I ovulated normally then I might test positive now!" or, "ouch, what was that random twinge in my abdomen? Implantation cramps? I do feel a little sick to my stomach right now..."

Seriously obsessive people.

And it hasn't really improved.

This cycle, which was my effort to refrain from obsessing cycle because I was going to run out of OPK's pretty quickly anyway has become just like any other. Except I've dropped $70 in non-internet-cheapy OPK's.

I admit it. I spent $5.50 on one single OPK, rather than the 50 cents I normally get them for.

Why?

Because I didn't see my surge by the CD22! I thought, "I need to know if it's not always on time!!" so I bought a box. And used one in the morning, and no surge. Then thought, "What if I miss the surge because I tested too early?" and in that vain, went through a box of 7 in 3 days.

Addict.

I hate it!! I didn't experience this with Elijah, I didn't have to.

Why do I feel like the only way for me to get pregnant now is to pee on a butt-load of sticks and have them tell me when the best time to get pregnant is?

Why do I have to be hyper-aware?

Why do I have to think that just because it's CD27 I might test positive right now, even though my cycles are usually 32-36 days long?
Ugh.

I blame hope, I'll have you know! (kidding of course. Hope is a beautiful thing.)

See, I discovered that, at least while nursing, I probably have a luteal phase defect, where my period comes to early for a pregnancy to take off, or too early for an embryo to even implant. Typically it was 9 days long (while using OPK's) and it needs to be 10-17, preferably 12-15.

But then I weaned Elijah off of night-time feedings, and I hoped like crazy that cutting back that small amount with nursing would make a big enough difference for my body to get back on baby-making track and that I would find myself pregnant this month.

No such luck so far, although I'm admittedly not out yet.

Anyway, this ramble is getting long, and I've already exposed myself for the obsessive addict that I am, so there's not much more to say, is there?

So I'm going to go upstairs to get ready for church, and I will take my first pee of the day, and probably pee on my last HPT to see if, by some miracle, I'm pregnant.

Because I'm weak like that.

Of course

So lately I've been worried about the next time we'll have a showing on the house, mostly because it's been a while since we've given it a good clean. It's been tidy (sort of...) on and off, but not clean in probably a month.

I  mentioned this a little bit in my last post, about how the house was giving me stress that I'd rather not have, because I didn't know when our next showing would be.

I've been thinking about it so much that I've been dreaming about it.

Example - I woke up this morning having had a dream that I lived in a completely different but much messier house, and we had a surprise showing and only had time to put junk and other stuff away, but no time to actually clean the place, so it hadn't been swept, the bathrooms were dirty, etc.

It turns out that I should have taken the warning and started cleaning this morning.

I was out with Elijah this evening, but when I got home at 6pm there was a message on the phone from my real estate agent.

Could we do a showing for tomorrow between 12 and 1pm?

Of course.

Excuse me now, while I go to a sound-proof room and scream hysterically at the top of my lungs.

Are you kidding me?! Of all nights, it has to be the night where Matt is out and won't be home until 11.

And did I mention that he works tomorrow morning from 10-1?

So I've basically condensed weeks of cleaning into one night and one morning with a baby to boot.

I know, I know, it's my own fault for not maintaining the house. I agree. The problem is, whenever I have free time in the day, it takes about everything I have to not take a nap or eat chocolate. If I'm feeling good, I read a book. If I'm feeling better then I cross-stitch. If I'm feeling generous, I fold a load of laundry for Matt.

Anyway, once I put Elijah down to bed I sat around for an hour, until 8:30 or so, and relaxed reading blogs (my guilty pleasure!)

I considered many times just stopping and getting started on the housework I had to do, but for some reason I was feeling rebellious, like, "NO, you can't make me clean! I'll do what I want to do!"

Then it occurred to me that maybe this was a test. Not necessarily a one-time deal test, but a test nonetheless. I think Heavenly Father needs to know that I can do things even when I don't want to. It's a good skill to have, and one I am terrible at, but I think with this whole depression and motherhood thing, it's going to be essential for me. I need to train myself, even when I'm feeling my worst, to rally, and push forward even when every bone in my body is objecting, and it feels like there is a physical force pinning me to my couch.

I will rally.

I know it won't be the last time I'll be tested like this, but seriously, it's going to make my life what I want it to be, I can feel it.

Because how on earth could I be the mother of TWO children someday, let alone even more (should we be so incredibly blessed!) if I don't have the strength to get off my sorry butt and clean the house? Or read my scriptures? Or get dressed for the day? Or drive to the grocery store?

I have to stop not doing things simply because I don't feel like it. Maybe before Elijah came along, I could get away with that, but not now. He's counting on me, and that's huge. I love that little man so much, and I want to be good for him, and reliable.

Anyway, it's SO late and we have to be up SO early to finish cleaning the kitchen, vacuum, sweep, clean the bathrooms, and fold laundry.Still a fair bit left, despite my hard work this evening. But you know what?

We'll rally.

"And When Our Hearts Were Depressed..."

2010 was such a full year for me. In some ways I like to sit here and think about all the good things that happened, soak it up, and feel a little sad that it's over.

And then in other ways I'm SO done with 2010.

Having a newborn was harder than I thought it'd be. And I'm still trying to decide if how difficult I found this year is in any way influenced by my potential depression diagnosis. It probably is, but I can't be sure right now.

Right now I feel like 3 things are ruling my life, and 1 thing is simply causing stress.

The 3 things are:

-Elijah

-getting pregnant again, and

-depression

And the one thing simply causing stress is selling our house, and the possibility of having a showing at any time when I've kind of let the house go.

Seeing as the whole depression thing influences, well, life, I'm going to address it first.

Backstory:

My dad has depression, as does my brother. I have no idea what types, but I know that it's hereditary, and I've always wondered if I struggled with it too.

I had a couple depressive episodes as a teenager.

One, I was 13, and very very sick. I had something called vertebral osteomyelitis, and not only did I have trouble sleeping because of the extreme pain, but I also developed insomnia. I would lay there for hours at night unable to sleep as terrible things would torment my mind. Bad experiences or thoughts would just run through my mind, and then re-run and re-run.Two things I remember dwelling on a lot were the fact that I stole a hair elastic from someone MONTHS before, and my fears from the movie Scream. I would have to ask my dad (who slept in the same room as me to help me move around when needed) to give me something happy to think about because my mind would spiral around such negative things that all the joy seemed to be gone from life, and I was incapable of steering my mind in a positive direction.It got better once my sickness was identified, and went away as I received some validation that I wasn't just faking the sickness with my back.

The second episode was when I was 16, when my boyfriend who was my first love broke up with me out of the blue. I again developed insomnia, and wouldn't fall asleep until 4 or 5 in the morning, as my thoughts and grief would again torment me. At one point I did start to wonder what the point of living was, and considered suicide, but quickly turned away from those thoughts, recognizing that they were irrational.

So anyway, apart from those two experiences, I had many ups and downs as a teen.

Then when I was 18, I found out about the Gospel of Jesus Christ, through a friend, Taylor. I was baptized, received the gift of the Holy Ghost, and was doing so well. The depression stayed rather far away, for at least a year.

Enter crappy relationship to a guy I was engaged to for 3 months. Crappy relationship = depressive episode.

Exit crappy relationship, enter amazing man who became my husband.

Things were great. (edit - things still ARE great, despite depression and whatnot! But, I mean, can't life always be sunshine and rainbows?!)

So as I was saying, Things were great. And then infertility hit.

Infertility is Hard. Like, capital "H" hard.

I don't really know what to say right now about infertility. If you've been there, then you know. If you haven't, well, that's another post I guess.

For my current purposes, let's just say that I have struggled a lot with confidence, despair, faith, loss, unfulfilled dreams, adjusting our plans to NOT involve children. Even those words don't convey it very well (it doesn't help that I'm listening to music right now, so my thoughts aren't coming very smoothly!)

Yes, I've been depressed throughout infertility, but I think that's common enough.

The weird and frustrating thing is that the depression kicked in in full force when I was finally, miraculously, after 4 years, PREGNANT.

I assumed that I was ungrateful.

I assumed that I was lazy.

I assumed that I was faithless.

I assumed everything, except the truth, that perhaps there was something beyond my own character flaws and hormones that was making me unhappy.

I actually remember saying a few times, "Can post-partum depression happen before you have a baby? Like, pre-partum depression?" At that time, I didn't know the answer was "yes," and that there was such a thing as prenatal mood disorder, but in hindsight, I totally had that.

I just couldn't figure out why life had lost its savor. I wasn't working, wasn't going to school, had SO much time on my hands to do whatever I wanted, and I didn't want to do anything except shopping for the baby and eating lots of good food. I didn't want to read, cross-stitch, see other people, watch movies, do housework, nothing. I had wanted that life, I had wanted for SO long to be pregnant, so why wasn't I happy?

I loved being pregnant, yes, but I was so (and I mean SO) fearful for my baby. Beyond rationality. Again, I assumed it was because I had gone through infertility and was so afraid losing this baby. I assumed I wasn't having faith that Heavenly Father would deliver my miracle to me. I assumed everything except the possibility of an anxiety disoder that was making me fearful of strangers stalking me and cutting my baby from my womb, leaving me to die and my baby to be raised by strangers (I wish I was kidding.)

Then I had Elijah. FINALLY!! (he was only 2 weeks late... ;)

And all I wanted to do was sleep. Not surprising, but I got upset when Matt tried to get me up before 10am.

I had low iron, that was why I was tired. Of course.

I was having trouble bonding. Also not uncommon.

I missed being pregnant (!!!) but assumed that my pregnancy jealousy was so deeply rooted in infertility that it'd never quite go away.

And then Matt went back to work, and I was calling him all the time. Can he come home from work early? Can't he take today off? Wouldn't it be nice to go to Costco together? Can't you just let me sleep a little longer?

And then I realized that I was feeling PMS-y all the time. I was getting mad at Matt. There were times I would be so emotionally detached from Elijah that he'd be laying on the floor crying, and I didn't know what to do, so I'd just sit there. I wouldn't cry, I felt too numb to cry.

I wondered if I had post-partum depression, but I didn't have many of those symptoms. It took until Elijah was 6 months old before it occurred to me that I might just be plain old depressed. I didn't know what to do about it though, so I left it.

And it got worse. And worse, and worse. Until last month I realized that it wasn't manageable. I was not functioning normally, I was an emotional wreck, I couldn't do it without help, my house was a disaster, I had no motivation, no time, Elijah wasn't napping, he was still nursing, so I was very house-bound, and...yeah.

**Sorry, this is taking longer than I realized. I guess a part of me wants to write it all down to look back on.**

So I went to see my doctor, and brought Matt along with me to confirm what I was feeling, but from his perspective.

Basically, my doctor doesn't think I have post-partum depression, but she does think I have underlying depression which is being aggravated by an adjustment disorder. Fancy words to say that I'm not adjusting to the life-change of having a baby, and my depression is kicking in in response.

She had a few suggestions, such as let Elijah cry it out overnight (as in, cry-it-out method, not leave him for 9 hours straight all alone) because he was waking up every hour to nurse.

Also, she said I should wean him because nursing makes my hormones go all over the place, and leaves my estrogen too low, probably adding to the crummy feelings I was having.

She also said that if I wanted to, I could go on Effexor, which apparently would be unsafe to take while nursing, but fine during the first 2 trimesters of pregnancy so I didn't have to go off meds to get pregnant, which to me was a big deal.

Aaaaand that's pretty much where we stand. Although, not quite I guess, because that was a month ago almost now! Wow, time flies so fast.

Elijah is now (mostly) sleeping through the night, although he likes to get up between 5:30 and 6:30, which I am not okay with.

He still isn't weaned, because we're having trouble knowing what to give him. We discovered that he has a mild milk allergy, so we tried boiled homo milk (apparently it could work?) but it still gave him hives. Now we're trying soy milk, except the stores don't carry soy milk they carry soy beverage, and it tastes disgusting, because I didn't know what kind to get so I bought the unsweetened kind, and it's...ugh. And Elijah thinks so too. So I don't even know what to do because he won't drink it, and I'm also entirely unsure of and overwhelmed by what his schedule should look like once he's weaned. How much milk does he need? How much solids? When should he eat? WHAT should he eat? And so on, and so on.

I'm getting really anxious to wean him, because I need to get away sometimes. I wanted to take a photography course in a week and a half, but he needs to be weaned by then. Also, I think I want to try the medication, but I can't until he's weaned.

I wans't too interested in trying the medication yet, but then Matt was home all over Christmas and could help, so I was feeling fine and like I didn't need it.Now he's back to work, and this whole week has been a hard one. Today especially, I felt like I just could not handle Elijah and life.

See, one thing that makes me really think that I do have depression is that, I do stuff even when I feel like laying in bed all day, and still I feel crappy.Today was hard, I sliced my finger open by accident, Elijah is teething and SO goobery (and I apparently picked a bad day to wear my black pyjamas...so gross) and was crying that whiny, non-stop cry for so long that I was about to start crying myself, and I have 5 loads of laundry to do but no motivation to do it.Still though, I made an extra effort to be a good mommy to Elijah, playing with him, snuggling, wiping his nose, playing the piano with him. I made Matt dinner, and made fudge (comfort food) folded a load of laundry, and unloaded the dishwasher.

And still, after all those things, it felt like there was a hole in my chest. It wasn't until Matt had to turn around from going to his meeting tonight because the roads were so bad that I cheered up and felt motivated to do anything, so I tidied the entire house, got changed out of my pyjamas, did my hair and brushed my teeth (at 7pm!!) and relaxed.

Soooooo....yeah.

I know I haven't really come to a proper conclusion. I don't know if there is one yet, I'm still working on that.I feel like I'm in the middle of this trial, and I don't know where to go with it.

In so many ways I want to get pregnant again. I loved loved LOVED being pregnant, despite the fears and anxiety, and I feel like I didn't do it well enough last time, and want a do-over so to speak.At the same time though, I'm worried about whether I'll feel crummy again emotionally while pregnant, and how I'd handle two children instead of one. Would I be able to nurse the second one, or would I need to go on anti-depressants? I've nursed Elijah almost a year, and I'm proud of that, but it hasn't been my choice to really, I've tried weaning him 3 times now, the first time at 6 months. Each time was a flop, and I can't wait to be done.

I want to go on Effexor just to see how it makes me feel.

It's so hard to imagine NOT feeling so chronically blah and empty, and to actually wake up in the morning motivated to work, and not just sit around reading blogs.I don't like myself a whole lot, to be perfectly honest, and I wonder if I'd like myself more if I was on the meds and feeling better.

One last thing. I never did anything about the possibility of having depression before now because I was worried that I would hide behind the label. It's definitely something I would do, like,Random Person - "Holly, why are you being such a snob?"
Me - "Hey, cut me some slack, I'm having a crappy, depressed day today!"Totally would do it. I know I would, because I'm struggling even now hiding behind it.

But I did something in the end because having the label and hiding behind it was better than not having the label, and dealing with it silently without help.

Because sometimes labels DO allow people to cut you some slack, or even just allow me to cut myself some slack, recognize my feelings for what they are and move past them.

So there. Loaded post #1, done!

And now to tend to my teething, grouchy, crying, I'm-going-to-wake-up-every-45-minutes-tonight baby!!