Kid Funnies

The kids have been trying my patience enormously lately, so I thought it'd be a good idea for me to remember their charming moments.  Good theory, right?

1.  We came home from the grocery store one morning and Mac really wanted to play out front.  Much to his dismay, I told him no, that I had to put the groceries up and couldn't watch him in the front yard.  Cora then placed her hand on my arm and looked me in the eyes, "Don't worry, Momma, I can watch him for you!"  Apparently that forty minutes headstart she has over her brother makes her infinitely older.


2.  The kids invent words; I'm sure that's very normal.  Mac often takes being a wordsmith to an extreme though, making up a word and thoroughly embedding it into his vocabulary.  The past two weeks he's been using "ferociouness".  It sounds like ferociousness but without the 's' at the end of the ferocious part.  I asked one time if he meant ferociousness and was corrected abruptly.  It means precisely whatever he wants it to, which is not ferociousness. 


3.   I've had a lot of talks with Cora about listening to her body. Your body will tell you when you need to go potty - don't ignore it!  Similarly, your body will tell you when you need air when swimming under water - don't ignore it! (Explanation on the latter:  she's highly competetive and challenges herself to underwater swimming contests; these don't always end well.)  I walked into her room the other day and saw clean clothes strewn about.  "Cora, why are your clothes everywhere?!"  "I listened to my body and it said "NO" to these clothes."


4.  Mac was holding a one dollar bill.  "That's George Washington.  He's our first President."  And I smiled, surprised by his keen sense about money.  And then Mac continued, "He went to the pyramid and came back with money."  And my smile was swallowed by chuckles and a brief correction.  Only very brief because I have no idea why the pyramid is there!  Anyone care to educate me, to save me the time researching it later?


5.  There are inherent differences between boys and girls. Raising boy/girl twins really allows a parent to see this since both children have equal exposure to toys (we don't enforce any gender particular rules when it comes to toys).  That being said, Mac makes weapons out of things and Cora does not.  We have a decent collection of lego duplos.  Cora lately has been marrying off Cinderella to each male lego figure.  Mac, instead, made "funeral spray".  The spray, apparently, has a fairly obvious use:  "you spray someone and they turn dead." 

Still Here

I've written a lot, in my prayer journal, in random spirals that I keep around the house, even on spare slips of paper I come across when my mind won't turn off at bedtime.  But on blogger? Every time I sit down, my hands still.  My mind blanks. 

The first half of July was hard. Very hard.  Loss does not get easier the more you experience it.  And though it eases with time, the echoes of "what might have been" are still there.

And then the twins turned four.  There was planning and crafting on my part and way too much time on pinterest.  And then laughter and celebration with friends.  Forty-plus people here - how did that happen?!

And then there was a work ceremony for Bryan.  Something we had been waiting for since January, planning since May.  And it finally happened last week.  Outside.  Well, sort of, in an open air building.  In the Texas heat. 

And now July is drawing to a close. 

Friends have moved/are moving.  Seasons of life for a military wife.

Making plans for a little family getaway sometime in August.  We're horrible about actually taking a vacation.  I've put my foot down and said We Are Going!

September approaches and our last transfer looms into view.  Next cycle.  Will this be it, finally?

But August comes first.  And we will take our little vacation.  And enjoy the present moment.

Drawing the Line

You reach a point and you're just exhausted looking at the road ahead of you.  It could mean it's time to reevaluate the road.  It could mean it's time to take a break.  It could mean it's time to ask for help, to ask for directions or clarification. 

We've had a line drawn for a long time on how many more times we'd try embryo adoption.  Of course, we'd never thought we'd approach that line with zero additional children here on earth. 

My doctor says that everything has been fine on my end.  Our problem is our adopted embryos just haven't been strong enough. 

We have two embryos left, but we've hit our line.  I am, we are, emotionally worn.  September will be our last transfer. 

I loved being pregnant with the twins.  There is that selfish part of me that wants to go through embryo adoption again just so I can experience pregnancy one more time.  To be able to revel in that magical experience of first baby movements.  Baby hiccups.  To be able to put Cora and Mac's hands on my belly and let them feel the movement of their sibling(s).  To see them giggle in awe and joy when my belly shakes with teeny tiny dancing movements from within.  To see Bryan's compassion and receive those gentle kisses on my swelling stomach.  I don't have to experience pregnancy to be a mother, I know that. And I won't feel less of a mother if our family only grows through alternate means in the future.  But if we can, if God is willing, I want so badly to share the joys of pre-born life one more time with my family.

We have already adopted these last two "snowflakes".  They are already waiting for us at our clinic.  We are committed to them.  My doctor says they look great on paper and that we can feel hope.  And yet that word is almost foreign sounding now.

Hope, what is that?  "Ask and you shall receive."  God, I have been asking and asking. And begging and pleading.  Am I saying the wrong words? 

Please give me the strength to move forward.  To love these two remaining little ones with the love they deserve.

Please help me also to find joy in the day to day.  To see my blessings in every day life.  In the form of my soon-to-be four year olds.  In the form of my hard-working husband.  In the form of friends, a furry beastie, family, and delightful summer days. 

Again and again, it comes back to my prayer from January:  I pray for hope and joy.

And LIFE.

Results are in

And they are negative.

Not pregnant.




I feel battered, betrayed even.  I felt pregnant this time.  And yet I'm not.  Apparently even my mother's intuition is jacked up.




Why would God call us so strongly to this path and then break me so many times?




I now have twelve babies in heaven, five from 2009 and seven from 2013 - 2014.




After each failed transfer or miscarriage, I ask how much more can I take???  I ask rhetorically, because that's not a question I want answered.  And then LOSS happens again.  Apparently God thinks I am so much stronger than I feel.



I wanted each of these children selfishly.  I want a baby to grow within my womb, to experience the joys of new life again, and share these joys with my husband and twins. 



I also wanted each of these children with the most noble of desires, to free them from their frozen stasis.  To return them, as much as possible, to a life of dignity.  Yes, Heaven is clearly a life of highest dignity.  I just wish they spent more time with me first.

The Transfer

Today I am pregnant. Who know what tomorrow may bring?  I won't know anything one way or another until late next week.  But today I am pregnant.

We transferred one beautiful day six blastocyst.  One embryo did not survive the thaw.

I mourn the loss of that little one.

Even the kids feel that loss. "What, you mean there's only one baby?  I thought we each would get our own baby to hold!"

I'm sorry, I really am. I wish both had survived the thaw, that both were starting to nestle in.  It feels so cold and heartless, undignified even, that an embryo should reach its end in a Petri dish, rather than in a womb.  Not that I'd chose death at all, but when it happens, I'd prefer it to be with the utmost dignity.

I was fixating a lot on the one lost rather than the one inside me. And then I realized while praying with the kids tonight, that I am precisely where God means me to be.  I don't understand His ways, umm, pretty much ever.  But I keep trying. And I know that He has hand-picked this scenario for us, these adopted embryos for us.  I am their mother, even if it is for only the briefest of whiles.

Thank you all for your prayers, your kind words and encouragement.  I seemed to get little love notes all day long, through text, email, and Facebook.  Thank you.

Closer and Closer

Our last two transfers have not been successful.  May 2013 was a failed transfer (lost two embryos in the thaw and then the singleton transferred went straight to heaven).  December 2013 was initially positive and then I miscarried the day before my first ultrasound.  It's not illogical that I would be harboring fear/anxiety about tomorrow's transfer.

I'm in kind of a weird place emotionally.  I haven't spent too much time dreaming about what if's.  I haven't poured myself into frantic pleas to God, begging Him to let these babies live.  My life has gone on here and I have allowed myself to be carried along with it.  I cannot live distant from my current duties as wife/mother/friend.  And that has been helpful.  Given me mental distractions during the day.

But then when the house quiets down, I find myself a little more pulled in by the what if's.  By the doubts.  And I have to take firm steps towards optimism.  Towards hope.  I try to completely shut down/shut out fear.  Thanks be to God, I've been more upbeat than I anticipated.

During Lent I signed up for a daily devotional.  One quote resonated with me so much that I printed it and stuck it to my bathroom mirror.

"What is most important?  Jesus, You created me in love.  You redeemed me with Your blood.  Then why am I so full of fear?  My life is ruled by fear of failure, fear of what others think, fear of losing the love of those around me, fear of being forgotten, or fear of being lonely.  In the past, I've resisted giving You these fears.  The most important thing in my life is loving You, so I freely give You these fears.  Today I will look for ways to put You first.  If I start to wory again, I will stop, give it to You, and then continue my day.  May my constant acts of trust and surrender bring You joy."  (written by Fr. Leszek Czelusniak)

My fears are different than described in that meditation but the sentiment is the same.  I have gone for a much simpler approach this time around.  I am not begging or pleading with God.  Instead, I have chosen to simply TRUST, putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that God will provide the path beneath my feet.  Still terrifying at times. 

My friend sent me a message a little bit ago, saying her four year old son prayed for me during his bedtime prayers tonight.  "I pray for Mrs. __, because she is going to have a baby soon."  He doesn't know anything about tomorrow's transfer. 

We are called to have a faith like a child's.  Pure, simple, untainted by the world around.  I'm trying, Lord, I'm trying.





The transfer is scheduled for 11:30 tomorrow morning.

The Countdown

1.  Three days until the transfer (June 17)

2.  Two embryos to thaw (after being frozen for seven years)

3.  Three estrogen pills to take each day (until weaned off at end of first trimester)

4.  Two Crinone applications each day (until weaned off at end of first trimester)  [additional progesterone will be added after transfer]

5.  Ten or eleven days until first pregnancy test (I have some flexibility with clinic orders)

6.  About one month until the first ultrasound (week seven of pregnancy)

7.  Countless prayers (on behalf of everyone: embryos, their genetic family, us, the clinical staff)