Author: thesolomamaproject

anxiety, dating, fertility, IVF, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

laundromat

thesolomamaproject

Here I am doing laundry at a coin-op laundromat flashing back to laundromats of my past such as in Paris after college which is probably the last time I didn’t have laundry in the building. No, wait–I didn’t have laundry in the Mission but by then I was a wash ‘n fold connoisseur. I may find myself going back to wash ‘n fold but for today I needed the clean laundry pronto and plus am trying to save money. Ironically, when I lived in NYC in the tiniest studio of my life, I had a stacked washer/dryer in the closet which makes me cry with longing when I think of it. This honestly isn’t so bad though (especially with a car)…it gives me time to blog (free wi-fi!) and I’m even sitting on a bench in the sunshine.

I was a little nervous going into the weekend because I reserved the whole thing for unpacking and yet knew viscerally that I needed bigger distractions as I near my test date. I posted on Craig’s List that I’d have free boxes and packing paper available on Sunday which gave me a deadline to get out of boxes, or at least most of them. I woke up and read a story from my Dear Sugar compilation (Tiny Beautiful Things, highly recommend) about how Sugar went to a yard sale at 22 with her mom and noticed a sweet little red velvet dress for a toddler. She found herself wanting it, inexplicably, since she didn’t even know if she wanted kids. Her mom offered to get it for her (it was $1) and told her to put it in a box for later. Three years later, Sugar’s mom died. Ten years after that, Sugar had a baby girl. She found the box with the dress and thought, my mom bought this dress for the granddaughter she’ll never know. Then, seeing her daughter wearing it on her second Christmas, Sugar thought, my daughter is wearing the dress that her grandmother bought her at a yard sale. It was about the meaning of things, and how the meaning changes over time. This made me cry for 20 minutes.

Then, driving over to my old place to meet the piano movers, I heard the song that goes don’t you worry, don’t you worry child. See heaven’s got a plan for you and I burst into tears again. All of this to tell you that I’m hormonal and there is a lot of change to process, the end of an era, the beginning of a new one, and not knowing yet if this try worked or not.

I was just talking to my sister about how I don’t deal well with unstructured time. I spent the rest of the day maniacally unpacking, not stopping for food or water or fresh air, just unpacking my ass off and reading old journals as I set them on the bookshelf, remembering such heartbreaks as my camp counselor B (forbidden), my on-the-fence-about-kids ex-boyfriend N, and my on-the-fence-about-me ex-not-quite-boyfriend M, remembering my dating patterns in three quick dips into my past. And here I am at 40, unattached and on my 11th try to get pregnant, um, remind me–how did this all happen again?! Or not happen? At 10pm I fell into bed with The West Wing and had work stress dreams all night.

(Meanwhile, the place is looking great.)

FET#2 has been the opposite of FET#1. For #1, by this time I was almost cocky, eating for two, etc. Everything throughout the two week wait revolved around the two week wait. I was sleeping and eating perfectly. I had relatively low stress.

This time, not so much. I’ve been stressed, exhausted, and distracted. No routine since the move. I feel nothing much. Whenever I’m hungry, I’m just hungry. When I’m tired, I’m just tired. And when I’m weepy, I am certainly hormonal, likely from the estrogen patches and the progesterone shots. And just because this time is opposite still doesn’t mean it will work.

Driving over here, that Pink song “Try, Try, Try” came on the radio as the sun broke through the fog. My fiercest hope is that I can think of this try in the context of the bigger picture–that it’s all part of one unpredictable and ongoing story as I pursue an ordinary dream, that my babies could be these ones or the next ones or ones after that and this whole long period of trying will have great significance in ways we cannot yet imagine. The meaning has yet to be revealed.

The meaning for today is: the two week wait is not for sissies.

And with that, I will take my warm laundry home. Love to you all.

anxiety, fertility, IVF, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait, writing

transfer and transition

thesolomamaproject

Hi! I have thought of you often, readers, and how it probably seemed strange that I didn’t post after my transfer. Alas, I am still thumbing it on my phone; the internet self-installation didn’t work, the technician who came today couldn’t get a signal, and they’re supposedly sending someone to the actual telephone pole to fix it tomorrow…I’ve been hanging at the (24hour!) Starbucks around the corner but using the time for work. So it’s time to tap out a slow post in a constant battle with auocorrect in order to send you an update.

The transfer went perfectly. My sister arrived to pick me up and a moment later the doorbell rang again and it was a dozen roses from dear friends M and T. Just then, the valium kicked in and we coasted over to UCSF where we already knew the drill.

We ran into my genetic counselor whose last day in that department was the next day and she hugged me and emphatically promised that I WOULD get pregnant this time and it WOULDN’T be twins. She totally TOTALLY promises.

B didn’t come into the room with me this time because she had a cold. Everything about this try feels laid back, it’s all good, no superstitions or good luck charms or anxiety. Just taking the steps. B worked on her laptop in the waiting area.

Dr. Z was great, Nurse Angela kept rubbing my arm and telling me I was perfect. I was warm and stoned. They gave me this photo of embies #2 and #3 and said they are beautiful, textbook, and survived the thaw with flying colors. Here they are:

image

I love those punks!

When Dr Z said, “Think good thoughts,” it felt like my very first try, when what’s her name said the same thing and I was filled with love. We watched on the monitor as a little drop of fluid containing the potential for two future humans was dropped off in my uterus. And that was that.

Oh: they redid my paperwork so it wouldn’t include the genders but we can safely assume it was two boys, two girls, or a boy and a girl.

On the way out of the dressing room, I ran into Dr. Tran! Wait, what? He was even in scrubs so why he didn’t do my transfer I will never know. He also rubbed my arm and wished me luck and looked handsome as per usual and was a generally good omen. Then I went to acupuncture which I slept through entirely, and came home and went to bed at 6.

Since then, I have been wildly distracted by work, unpacking, a wedding, and did I mention unpacking? The kitchen is done, I still have to unpack clothes, books, and the bathroom. I forget about being PUPO for hours at a time. This may change, but for now it’s good. Hoping it holds as long as possible, 10 days to go.

I joined the JCC! They have an amazing gym near my house! All the SMCs are doing it because they have 100+ classes (cuban dance! kickboxing! yoga! swimming!) and child care.

I am floating along, loving all the changes. Amazing how the universe plucked me up and dropped me here.

image

family, fertility, IVF, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

tomorrow

thesolomamaproject

I am sitting in my beautiful new apartment surrounded by boxes, tapping this out on my phone. The internet will get hooked up tomorrow. The move went perfectly and you are all invited over because I have space for you now, a whole room for you even. I want this to be a gathering place for friends and family, I mean it.

I am exhausted. Haven’t caught up with myself since moving on Sunday and going into a busy work week with plans every evening. I had a conference call at 6 this morning so I really should head to bed. In my new bedroom which has a door, which I shut, because I can.

Tomorrow is transfer day. My sister will come by at noon to drive me over. Time to meet embies #2 and #3, at long last. Thanks for sending lots of love to them in the next 36 hours.

More when I’m not tapping with thumbs and half asleep zzzzz

dating, fertility, IVF, outdoors, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

my 40s

thesolomamaproject

My 40s have been stellar. I’m sleepy but must force myself to blog this before any other big news can pile up:

  • I flew home late Friday night, returning to my cute little studio whose days with me are now numbered. The number is 4.
  • On Saturday, I dropped by my new apartment which was left in beautiful condition by the former tenant, with a big note on the blackboard that said, “Welcome Home, K!!!”
  • I got my hair cut–Nicholas, superhumanly handsome and not my usual stylist, insisted on blowing my hair straight (“They ALWAYS see your hair curly, right?”), and also insisted that I come back at 4:15 with my own makeup so he could do my eyes for my birthday. Then I got a pedicure with B and her sweet new bundle S.
  • I tried to nap but I was too excited about my party. I ended up drinking coffee to fight the jet lag.
  • Arriving in the restaurant, I found one friend sitting with her glass of wine, plus one gorgeous floral centerpiece sent by my thoughtful boss in NYC. 
  • More friends started to flow in and my heart was overflowing with joy. Flowers, champagne, cards, hugs, love.
  • I was so happy. I could have floated around that party forever. I have the most wonderful and thoughtful and hilarious friends, many of whom I’ve known for 20+ years, some less than two months, and they have all been my raft in turbulent waters at one time or another.
  • The food was delicious and we flowed from one course to the next, wine topped off at frequent intervals, the lighting in a soft glow against the brick walls, lots of laughter. These moments are so fleeting and the wine makes them slippery… and before you know it, the party’s over.
  • And then you head to the after party with about 10 friends and drink bourbon until 4:30am and then you’re pretty much so far gone between the joy and the drinks and the time difference and the four decades, you’re maybe hung over for 3-4 days.
  • The next day should have been rougher but I navigated through a lovely baby shower and a birthday party and went to see The Way Way Back with the birthday girl.
  • On Monday, I showed up at my new office on Sacramento Street. One block from my first office in SF when I moved here in 1997, I walk by Starbucks knowing that’s not what was in that space 15 years ago, but not remembering what was there before. Isn’t this the very definition of getting older? I have a window facing south and was delighted when the sunlight found my desk and moved along it for much of the day.
  • At mid-day, my new landlord showed up with the lease, and we sat on a bench in my new lobby and chatted a bit after signing it. I expressed how thrilled I am about this apartment and he seemed genuinely glad. He truly either doesn’t realize or doesn’t care about how much more he could have gotten for that place, and I am his lucky lucky lucky lucky tenant who happened to be in the right place at the right time.
  • Later, I called my building manager to give notice and he completely blew my mind when he told me the price he will ask for my current, 400 square foot studio.
  • The universe is sending me a love note.
  • I went on a third date. He’s easygoing, has a nice smile, is older. We’ve gone on a couple of hikes, to the farmer’s market, to dinner. With everything going on, I enjoy hanging out with him and yet there’s no real momentum or wondering what will happen next.
  • Today, I lined up packers to pack my apartment on Saturday (yes, I am paying the $ to keep stress low) and a mover on Sunday.
  • I went to UCSF for my lining check this afternoon. (I saw Dr. Tran in scrubs from a distance–he didn’t see me.) Good news at the appointment: 7.8mm lining, great, and all quiet on the ovarian front (no cysts). I was cleared for transfer next week: Thursday, 8/15.
  • Did I mention: gratitude.
  • I was texting with my friend M in Mexico City tonight, and she said that my new place is “like feng shui. But for your whole life.”
  • I believe it.my new apartment
family, fertility, IVF, outdoors, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

sunset

thesolomamaproject

Hi, people. I’m sitting in the living room after dinner–my sister and mom are chatting and my dad is doing the dishes. The pink sun just dropped from behind the clouds and is descending brightly over the lake. Bill Evans plays gorgeous jazz piano in the background.

My birthday was wonderful. Run followed by hike followed by nap followed by (just as predicted) duck, champagne, and profiteroles. The birthday love rolled in throughout the day and my heart was filled with love and gratitude. It felt so momentous that when I woke up on Monday, I felt like I was 41.

Yesterday, I went on an adventure drive with my dad, a tradition left over from childhood and my Father’s Day experiential gift. Have you tried this recently? It’s so refreshing to get in the car and not know yet where you’re going  A metaphor for life and letting go and being open and curious and expecting great and beautiful things.

Sometimes we had a gut feeling about which way to turn and sometimes we flipped a coin. We ended up south of town on a remote seasonal road that looked like we might get stuck–which kept it suspenseful. We stopped to walk around a totally remote old family cemetery. We stopped again to take pictures of a butterfly and a beautiful red and black bird. The further we went, the more we wondered where (or if) we would pop out–this was a two-track with no signs of civilization. Eventually, we popped out at Pearl Lake in a fancy development! Then we passed someone’s yard that had a sign: “Come on in and set awhile,” so we walked around and met a giant metallic grasshopper and appreciated the flowers and vegetable garden (and, by the house, a sign with a rifle that said “We don’t call 911”). Then we cut over to Lake Ann for soft-serve ice cream on a totally deserted beach, and visited a summer camp, my Dad’s horse Lily, and three other lakes I’ve never seen before as the late afternoon sun intensified, casting longer shadows. Meaningful time with my dad.

Today was the first day of the film festival in Traverse City. I put on two estrogen patches this morning which likely contributed to my weepiness during the first film and afterward–it was a Korean film called Dancing Queen (highly recommend), about a guy who runs for mayor of Seoul and his wife whose dream is to be a pop singer/dancer–the theme was following your dreams: and never giving up. Every time someone almost gave up on their dream, they got propped up by those around them who knew just how important the dream was, and I thought of how you all prop me up during the setbacks. It made me feel like I just know we’re going to do this thing. My mom held my hand as we walked down the street together afterward and I cried it out.

Tomorrow I will log back in to work email after nearly two weeks away. I am rested, sun kissed, wind blown, reset by chilly Lake Michigan. Bracing myself for 700 messages (that’s just an estimate) but also intrigued to see how things are going for my team and my projects. I had a good break.

It’s almost time to westward ho! Toward my dream apartment and a birthday bash with my SF family and giving embryos #2 and #3 my best shot.

Meanwhile, enjoying my last days of Pure Michigan. We all just gathered on the balcony to watch the last of a fuschia popsicle sun melt into the horizon. See you on the other side.

family, fertility, IVF, meditation, outdoors, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, writing

40 eve

thesolomamaproject

It’s the first time I’ve been home alone since arriving one week ago! In such a constantly boisterous  household with my little nieces around, I’ve been on the family channel with almost constant activity every day, including reading The Phantom Tollbooth with newly-5-year-old E (we got almost 200 pages in) and bouncing in chilly Lake Michigan with almost-2-year-old S (she loves splashing). Given my limited time with the girls in particular, who call me K.K., I didn’t really want to tear myself away for regular grown-up vacation activities like a book or a phone call or…writing. So, I didn’t. I just rolled with the days, inventing inside jokes, playing hide-and-go-seek, and going out for activities like seeing my dad’s horse.

Today, we did the whole unbearable scene of the family waving from the parking lot as the adorables drive away waving their little hands from the back seat. I felt flooded with despair for about ten minutes and then got on with a quieter day. I cleaned, did laundry, did yoga, read the New Yorker, napped, did a couple of online errands, meditated, and now it’s time to write. This is a big preamble, just trying to set the stage here.

I kicked off birthday celebrations on Thursday night with a family dinner, dance party, and jam session. It was the best party ever. As always, my mom masterfully pulled together a delicious meal over at the river house, including a made-from-scratch chocolate cake with pink frosting (my niece E perfected the shade of pink), with a little picture on top for each birthday celebrant: 40 for me, a heart for my sister, Wonder Woman for E, Fallout Shelter for my teenage cousin M, and Charlie Brown for my uncle P. The W family showed up with four bottles of Veuve Cliquot (my favorite) and we ate and drank and danced and then broke out the violin, guitar, and ukelele and played and sang and improvised hysterical blues verses, broke two glasses and spilled another, and it was a glorious evening of love and connection and music. What could be better?? I LOVED it. Party #1 rocked.

Yesterday, I got my birthday wish from my sisters: a financial consultation. (they are both financial wizards). I can now admit that I tried to get pregnant for over a year without really having a clue about how a child would (or would not) work with my finances. We sat down to start crunching the numbers and I realized that my fear was that they would look at me and shake their heads and say there was no way to make it work in San Francisco. But they didn’t–we created an action plan with several steps which will allow me to start saving now for child care.  This is my favorite kind of gift–the whole scenario feels more possible and my vision of the future is more clear.  I started taking the action plan steps today. Thanks, D & B!

Then, D’s husband took us out for a fancy (bday!) dinner and then left us to make room for girls’ night out, which included time in the bookstore followed by a huge monster sundae and hilariously ended before 10pm when there was still some light in the sky.

Tonight is the eve of my 40th birthday. I elected to stay home–B and my mom are in Traverse at the opening film of the TC Film Festival and my dad is playing tennis. After a day of chilly rain, the sun is bursting out over the sparkling water of Lake Michigan. It’s peaceful here. My bro-in-law just texted a photo of the girls at baggage claim in Baltimore saying they miss us already–it’s mutual!

What does my birthday mean to me? Well, first of all, I’m a Leo so I have always pushed the celebration factor to the extreme. Recently someone said to me that I seemed to have a good attitude about this milestone birthday. While I grant you that there are downsides to aging (and at 40, for me, it is primarily about how hard it’s been to get pregnant), I feel it is truly obnoxious to complain when there are so many people we’ve known and loved who haven’t been fortunate enough to make it this far. When we think of the only other possible alternative, we realize that all we can do and should do is celebrate.

Not to mention just how much learning and experience and love and craziness has led up to this day. As a cumulative number, 40 adequately represents it. 39 was just bananas and it got me to 40, to this moment, which is a good one. Now let’s look ahead.

As I turn 40, I am moving into a big, new apartment! I am moving into a new office! I am throwing myself a big party! AND I am gearing up to transfer two healthy embryos in about 2.5 weeks! My good friend T reminded me that I’m entering my fifth decade (thanks for that! 😉 ) –and I’d say I’m entering with extraordinarily positive momentum. It’s easy to say in hindsight that the babe wasn’t meant to be until now. The way the universe is throwing good mojo in my direction it feels like we’re finally almost there, maybe.

(Speaking of the apartment: I received the lease, went back and forth with questions, received the revised lease, and will sign it in person with the landlord in one week when I’m home–and the current tenant is leaving all kinds of great furniture for me! More details when I have the signed doc in hand!)

Tomorrow will be a mellow day. I’d like to be outside as much as possible. Then I’m putting on my party dress and my red heels which are totally over the top for this rural area, and we’re going to our favorite French restaurant where my parents are legitimately great friends with the French owner, and I will hopefully have something like duck and profiteroles and some champagne and we’ll toast the day.

On the occasion of my birthday, I want to tell you how much you mean to me, my dear readers, family, and friends!!!!! Whatever my 40s bring, I’m grateful that you are my companions on this journey. ❤ xoxoxo

 

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decompressing

thesolomamaproject

I’m sitting on the balcony at dusk, looking out at a calm Lake Michigan. The sky is a darkening gray with the exception of a dramatic streak of hot magenta across the horizon where the sun finished setting a little while ago. I’m in a tank top and cargo pants, barefoot. The breezes are warm in a way they never are in SF. Somewhere a ukalele is playing, faraway voices drift up from the beach, waves lap the shore.

I arrived two days ago and I’m still transitioning to vacation mode. Carving out nearly two weeks’ vacation requires quite a lot lot lot of preparation, especially when you intend to draw a hard line and really disconnect during the days off. I worked late, got in early, delegated like mad, finished my last important to-do item on the plane. I arrived exhausted and grateful for the time and space I managed to clear.

My mom and sisters are playing Bananagrams on the dining room table inside behind me. Through the window next to me I can see the TV on a financial channel and my dad’s feet. My nieces are finally sleeping upstairs.

Feeling gratitude. Still decompressing. How does one find the time and space to meditate on a family vacation? I intend to find out.

Tomorrow, a bunch of us are running in the Running Bear 5K. Speed is not my forte but it seemed like a great local event and a much harder/better version of my regular morning workout. (Speaking of which, have you guys heard of the 7 minute workout? I did it with my sister this morning and it was kind of amazing in its brevity and efficiency.)

Beyond spending time with family, I want to: sleep, write, read, run, hike, meditate, and do yoga. And nap. I envision more regular blogging.

My fertility journey feels like it’s out of the spotlight, even as I prepare for FET#2. Earlier this month, I pictured coming home feeling defeated, but it hasn’t even really come up. Maybe a couple of welcome hugs lasted a few seconds longer than usual, but that’s it. In the bigger picture, I’m still on track.

Just moved inside away from the mosquitoes, which means I will soon be sucked into this game of Bananagrams. Now everyone at the table is afraid that I will call them out on their made-up words, such as “bah” and “groovies.”

Still thrilled beyond belief about the new apartment, and still waiting for the actual lease which was supposed to arrive today over email. Landlord assures me the place is mine and the current tenant assures me that she didn’t sign a lease until she was already painting the place. Let’s just wait patiently with our fingers crossed for the legal documentation to follow the verbal agreement. The day I sign the lease I will unleash the details and begin planning dinner parties, chamber music nights, and SMC meetings.

AF arrived today, kicking off the cycle in which I will transfer. So, we’re getting closer.

Meanwhile, relaxing and expanding like one of those skinny little orange stick sponges from Trader Joe’s in a bucket of water. Forgive my sleepy metaphor as I jump in to take my mom’s place in Bananagrams.

 

 

fertility, IVF, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

change!

thesolomamaproject

Things are shifting and moving and changing and all is well in the universe. I wish I were slightly less tired so I could tell this better but here goes.

Biggest news is: today I got the keys to my new two-bedroom apartment!!! In San Francisco!!!! I have paid the money and received the keys, and I will write you the full story of the place once I sign the lease (coming this week) and get some rest. I spent the weekend working with a team of friends and family to strategize and negotiate this deal and in the end got a price way (way) under market rate. Why? Because the landlord is a single dad and thinks it’s awesome that I’m trying to have a baby on my own. Thank goodness my friend who referred me, who lives in the building, had the sense to tell him about my SMC plans because I never would have. She had an instinct that it would work in my favor, and it totally did. I will describe the place to you in excrutiating detail once the lease is locked and loaded, I promise. It is beautiful and spacious and bright and perfect for my next chapter. It fell out of the sky and into my life, with the help of a few new friends who pushed hard for me to get it. Wow, thank you!!

Meanwhile, my office is also  moving at the end of this month, about five blocks away from the current location downtown. A welcome change.

Here is the CRAZY COINCIDENCE: both moves are happening at the end of July. AND: both moves take me to Sacramento Street. You heard me: starting in August, I will both live and work on Sacramento Street, connected by a 3.3 mile commute on the 1 California bus–practically door to door express service! This is after 8 years in one office and 7 years in one apartment. CHANGE IS IN THE AIR, PEOPLE.

What else is happening at the end of July? Oh yeah: I TURN FORTY. Massive celebrations are forecast on several coasts.

Vacation, birthday, move, move, transfer. On that note, I’m going to bed. Gratitude and more gratitude. It’s going to be a good decade. xo

 

 

 

anxiety, fertility, IVF, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

consultation

thesolomamaproject

Good news: Tara Brach’s talk on hope is posted to her website as a video! I hope you watch her beautiful self and appreciate her guidance on how to live in possibility:

I’m at home on the 4th of July feeling very sleepy after taking a long run earlier today–I’ll be in bed soon. Meanwhile, my neighborhood sounds like a war zone with all the fireworks going off nearby and all over the city. Hope you had a nice 4th.

I met with Dr. T. yesterday. I pulled up and parked, having just wrapped up my work day before the long weekend. As I walked into the building for the first time since the transfer, my muscle memory took over and I felt heavy. I sat in the waiting room just intensely waiting, not reading or looking at my phone. I was looking forward to the discussion and looking ahead to FET#2, mixed with some amount of dread about rehashing what may or may not have gone wrong with #1.

He called me in to a tiny conference room. He first acknowledged that he was sorry this time didn’t work out despite everything looking promising at the beginning. He said he got the news while on vacation in Vietnam and felt really disappointed, took it personally (which made me want to launch into his arms and cry but I held it together). Then he asked me how I was feeling. I opened my mouth and nothing came out. He took this to be a hesitation but it was really me trying to articulate a rush of complicated feelings. I told him I was devastated, that the cumulative weight of all the tries was making this one the hardest.

What he said next is the best thing anyone can say to me right now: that it’s understandable that I would be so upset about it. That it is truly disappointing and an extremely difficult thing to go through. I am reminded that this is probably almost always true when someone is in crisis or having a rough time–they don’t necessarily need someone to problem-solve or find a positive spin. They need to feel validated and heard and understood.

He also said that while it is understandable and appropriate and reasonable for me to be struggling with the outcome, he remains optimistic about my case from an objective medical vantage point. Everything is still fine, I have four normal embryos remaining, and there’s no evidence that anything caused embie #1 not to implant. Sometimes they just don’t. Age can be a factor here although sometimes it’s nearly impossible to pinpoint an actual reason.

As with other cycles, Dr. T. discouraged me from going down the road of hunting for one anyway. In the absence of actual evidence, some people go into “hand-waving” mode (his term)–doing any and all tests trying to find something/anything that can be fixed. For example, I have a large fibroid. It’s on the outside of my uterus and I had a test done to confirm it’s not inside the uterine cavity. However, there’s a small chance that it is impeding blood flow to the very spot where the embryos are implanting. Super unlikely, but there’s a chance. What would it take to get it out? Surgery, followed by 6 months of bench time waiting to try again, and a very real chance that vaginal delivery would be impossible. And, in the end, the fibroid may have had nothing to do with anything. So I’m fine with skipping all that and having some faith in Dr. T’s opinion and the battery of tests I did at the outset.

He asked me what I was thinking about next steps. I told him that I am ready to try again (or I will be by the time I get there), and this time I want to put two. He readily agreed. I was prepared to argue with him on this, but he respects my decision–he says that, given everything I’ve been through, it’s “not unreasonable.” As long as I understand that if I get pregnant, there is a 20-30% chance it will be twins. He said that if insurance paid everything and there was no emotional cost, he would have me keep doing one at a time. But the reality is that time, money, and emotional stamina are running out. I’m ready to double my chances and pray for one. And if it’s two, it will be a blessing and we’ll figure it out (and by we I mean me and all of you).

The only change to my protocol is to add a endometrial biopsy (or “womb scratch”)–Dr. T. was surprised I hadn’t heard of it. It involves taking a biopsy of the uterine lining, thereby causing an injury that needs to be healed. The healing process releases chemicals that are thought to help promote implantation and the research is mixed but there’s some evidence that it works. I’ll go with my doc on this one.

Our plan is to put embies #2 and #3–my two best. Waiting on my calendar from Olga.

It’s both a relief and a terror to look ahead at trying again. Meanwhile, I take my bc pills, take good care of myself, and put my hand on my heart and say, “It’s going to be OK, sweetheart.”

acupuncture, dating, depression, fertility, IVF, meditation, outdoors, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

hope

thesolomamaproject

First, thank you to all who have reached out to me in so many thoughtful ways. I love you.

It’s been hard to decide what to write as I navigate the aftermath of FET#1. The depth of grief goes well beyond what I’ve previously experienced in this process. I will admit that my last post was written hastily after learning the news myself–I was in shock. I wanted to appear strong to those who might worry that the disappointment would send me into total collapse. I thought I might be able to skip over dealing with it; with margaritas, keeping previously-made plans, and working hard. Keep moving forward.

Here’s a shocker: that didn’t work. By Thursday it caught up with me. I felt the familiar old tentacles of depression wrapping around me and pulling me down. The awful chanting of negative thoughts in my brain. The worst one: I spent my 30s trying to build a family, and I have failed. No one will attach to me permanently, not a man, not an embryo. (Not even a dog!) I sobbed to my therapist. Poor, poor me.

While grieving and disappointment and sadness (and even anger at slacker embie #1) are normal and healthy after how much time, money, and effort I’ve invested in this process, I also recognize the ‘poor me’ refrain. It’s a sign that I’m hooking into distorted thinking and descending into a place of hopelessness. I’ve felt it before. There’s a healthy grieving process and then there are the terrorists. The terrorists aim to use this as proof that hope is futile. Thank God I know the difference by now. I knew it was time to use my tools before I sunk any further. My acupuncturist reminded me that depression is a state of static and clenching, and, even if it sounds like the last thing you want to do, it’s important to force yourself to get out and be active, go for a run, be outside. It moves things around, helps you move through.

So, yesterday I hiked from 8-4, with MM, along the stunning, sunny coastline of the Marin Headlands–a big loop from Tennessee Valley up to Muir Beach and back through Green Gulch Farm. I cried to MM that there’s a big scoreboard and my score is zero, to which she responded, “And the game isn’t over yet.”

Toward the end of the hike, I stood at a single high point from which I could see Bodega Bay, Muir Beach, Ocean Beach, Sutro Tower, the GG Bridge, the SF skyline, the Bay, Mt. Diablo, I felt my body in the warm sunshine. My anti-depressant.

This morning, I listened to Tara Brach’s latest podcast, called “Part 1: Hope and the Spiritual Path.” I beg you to listen to this podcast. I command you. It’s one hour. You can listen to a lot or a little. Not only does it perfectly articulate where I am right now in terms of maintaining hope, it has priceless nuggets of wisdom for each one of you. I will listen to it many times. The potential of the oak tree is contained within the acorn. What we hope for is already within us.

There is egoic hope based in fear, and there is a holy hope based in a basic faith that God isn’t just rolling the dice on us. Our lives have meaning. It will be some time before I become a cheerleader for FET#2, but for now I feel, deeply, that I am still on my spiritual path, and this is all part of it, and it is all making me stronger and better prepared for whatever comes next. (That still sounds a little stronger than I feel, but I know it’s the right direction.)

At times, I have wondered how this blog could be inspiring to people–I have tried and failed ten times. Sounds like a bummer. Then, this past week, I have been reading other women’s posts online, and every time I see someone weather a failure and then somehow continue to put one foot in front of the other, my heart soars. I get it.

So, here I go, out for a run at Lands End. xo

[Tara’s podcast will be available within a week or so on her website www.tarabrach.com. Meanwhile, you can access this podcast by downloading the Podcasts app through the iTunes store, search for “Tara Brach. Enjoy, and please report back if you listen!]