Not so calm, cool, and collected.

I kind of go to this crazy place when I'm coming up on a month of trying to get pregnant. I felt good about foregoing Clomid for another month, but when I was notified this evening that my doctor had called it in anyway - - I decided I HAD to get it. The excitement of this being a month I could get pregnant again was immediately followed by the feeling of stress. What happens if the Metformin wasn't enough?? What happens if the Metformin doesn't help me produce mature eggs?? That would be a wasted effort. What happens if I don't ovulate, and have to go back to the wretched hospital to get blood drawn, before the doctor would induce another period?? What if, what if, what if?? I was getting annoyed with the kids (it'd been one of THOSE high stress, boss is on my tail, kids fighting for hours, kind of days), and starting to feel stressed. My headaches are back every day now. I'm sticking with what I know works. And what works is Clomid. Period. And I don't feel badly about getting it, and I'll start taking it tonight. The thought of having to wait one-more-month seems like needless torture. Why stress myself by trying something out I am not sure works?? So. We're at this exact point again. The same point where I got pregnant with Isaac and found out he would die. The same point when I got pregnant after his death,and miscarried in January. The same point when I lost yet another pregnancy in May. I've got to be getting to the point where I can get pregnant, stay pregnant, and bring home another squirming bundle for our family to love. That dream has come true before. It can again. My body can do this. I know it. I just KNOW it.

xo M.



PS: I've gotten some pretty stupid-ass comments on my blog. The last one has me still scratching my head.

WHY do women think you cannot be obsessed with getting pregnant again IN ADDITION to being madly in love with your kids?? WHY do some women think that because I desire for another child, I don't appreciate the children I already have??

For those that know me well, would laugh at those accusations. Let me tell you what having a dead kid does to you. It makes you protect your kids more than you probably should. It makes you baby them more, spoil them a little rotten, let them get away with a few extra things. It makes you more tolerant. It makes you love them more, and appreciate the moments more.

Your regular Mom might complain about being tired, over-worked, and that her patience is out. I still feel the same way, but after every SINGLE thought that I have about my kids - whether it's loving or from an exhausted mind - every thought is followed by: "Father in heaven - - I LOVE these kids, I am SO happy to have them". So if you're mistaken - - - and think I don't have enough attention to spare my children that I already have AND focus on getting pregnant at the time - - you're DEAD wrong. I got this. Now go tell someone else how to live their lives, I've got mine covered.

I've thought about writing several blog posts over the last couple weeks. I had them all written out in my head. And just didn't have the energy to put them on the computer.

I started my period on Saturday. Another full cycle. I ovulated on my own. This is excellent progress. It looks like I may not need Clomid. The Metformin, which I take to aide my fertility, appears to be enough. I hope anyway. Women on Clomid typically take that medication on day 5 through 9 of their cycle. Which would mean starting THIS Wednesday, and I found myself frantically thinking - - should I, shouldn't I, what if the Metformin isn't enough?? I figured I better hit my knees in search of help to make a decision, and I have decided to let it be for this month. We'll allow for conception, but with out taking the additional medication. I've given up Diet Coke and sugar. I'm on my (4 freaking) pills of folic acid a day to prevent another neural tube defect, and I'm eating up my prenatal vitamin every night before bed. I feel prepared. But also resigned to the fact that I'm merely along for the ride. In the end, God decides. God took Isaac home with him, and God wrapped up my last two pregnancies right after they'd just begun. Pregnancy doesn't necessarily mean a baby, now does it?? All I have is a little hope, and the stubbornness to keep after one of my greatest dreams.

Summer has been incredibly busy. Work has taken a lot of my time. Being a mother has taken even more time than that. I love it. I love being a mother and watching (even if it hurts) my children growing. I spend parts of the day reflecting on my pressing goal to eat them up every day. I know, perhaps, their may not be more babies for me. I know that I have been immensely fortunate to have been entrusted with three living children, and I know there is so much of their childhood's left to enjoy. The thought "make today count" runs through my mind constantly. Right now is all that I can count on. Right now is all that I know I have.

I have been so fortunate to have my best friend, also be my neighbor for the last 6.5 years. I have been fortunate to know the true meaning of friendship in her. I have been thankful to her that she's been able to weather the emotions and madness I've at times brought to the table, linked with my childhood. I have been thankful she's been able to accept my "I messed up, I'm sorry" over the years. I'm glad I've been able to accept hers to me in return. I remember someone counseling me before, when I was struggling to understand adult relationships as a twenty year old, that any person is lucky to find one or two TRUE friends in their life time. That has been very true for me. I've been fair enough friends with many people over the years, but life happens. We've gone our separate ways over long distance, or disagreements, or life changes. Over kids, over scheduling conflicts, or disinterest.

I come with a lot of baggage. I have a lot of shit on my plate. I can't say, after having a dead child, that I am less crazy, because I am MORE crazy. Some times I push people away. Some times I fear being rejected again. I don't trust easily. But what I do DO well is LOVE. I am strait forward and honest about my feelings, and I have an ability to be loyal and honest with where I'm at. People walk away though. I know it's been a common occurrence, when people have lost and are grieving hard, friends walk away. People can't deal with your shit. People can't deal with the depth of loss and the sorrow that follows. It makes me feel like a failure. When people walk away that I love, I feel like I'm that little kid again, when my parents didn't even love me enough to stick around. I feel worthless. And I feel like I must be REALLY bad at human relationships. I am who I am because of the life I have lived. I am who I am because of the abuse and losses I have been dealt. I find most people just don't want to invest in someone that's maybe not got all her emotional shit together. And THAT would be why I really LOVE to be alone. THAT would be why I love to stay home, with my kids, and my husband, and keep everyone else at bay. I don't have to have the pressure on me to be that perfect someone that another won't walk away from. I. Have. Worth. And I am worth it. I am worth someone eles's friendship and patience.

My best friend Lisa is opening her home to foster children. This woman. Let me tell you. She is a HELL of a woman. She's had some hard knocks in life. She's been husband-less and childless for her entire life. She's longed for that for years, tolerated that I had what she wanted, and we have loved each other in despite of our faults. I have been privileged to watch her walk this new journey, and pleased to see her joyous over opening her home to another. We've talked a lot about the training she is receiving. It's been in depth and heartbreaking. There are so many children that are abused and suffering. It's been really hard for me to re-visit those feelings that I had (and still do) over my childhood. I remember how it felt to grieve over parents who left me. I remember the distress of being molested and abused. I still easily access the distress and heartache over being raised in a loveless, abusive home. It's rough. You wonder how kids ever make it to adulthood partially ok. The amount of pain a child can feel is indescribable. I know. Because I felt it. And I live my life today, trying to overcome, the wrongs done to me that I had no control over. Children are innocent. The damage done to children changes who they are, it changes their souls. It's heartbreaking. And that doesn't even begin to describe it.......

I better get off of the computer. The children are wondering if I'm starting a novel - generally my posts aren't this long.

On with life, shall we??