Cattula

Then Again...

So - that last post about being able to be around babies - well - all I can say about that now is Epic Fail.

Progress (At Least for Today)

This past weekend was wonderful - full of friends, laughter, and babies.  Yes - babies.  Not too long ago it was hard for me to be around them.  I loved to hold them and witness their changing moods, the sudden giggles, but deep inside me was a pain more sharply articulated by their presence.  I would find myself making note of where the nearest bathroom was and planning a graceful escape for when it became too much and I knew the tears would fall.

But this past weekend there was none of that.  Just pure, simple joy.  And part of me knows that has a lot to do with where we are right now.  Anyone who has tried to get pregnant for any length of time knows that hope is parceled out in two week segments.  The end of a cycle brings disappointment and anger and a feeling of "here we go again."  But the next two weeks are a time of promise - when anything is possible and this could really be our chance.  And that is where we are right now. 

I know if this cycle is a bust, it will be a little bit harder to hold onto that joy, to let go of that sharp edge of pain.  But I also like to think that, on some level, the thinking, writing, and crying I have engaged in has started to do its job - to let the pain fall away and make room for a deep and sustaining peace, no matter what may come.  I'm starting to think that I have grieved well.

The Here and Now

The danger of this blog is that sometimes I write sad posts and leave them up for days with no updates - which is far more a reflection of my laziness than my emotional state.

I'm feeling much better today.  The HSG was quick, relatively pain-free, and most importantly - revealed that everything looks normal.  So we are continuing on - and hopeful.

What I've learned in the past year and a half that we have been trying to get pregnant, is that life has an inherent uncertainty about it.  And I think the best way to look at our situation is not with blinded optimism or deep pessimism - but with an openness to whatever may happen - and a sense that we will be okay no matter what.  I think spirituality is learning to live fully in the midst of the question - because even if we have a child, there are no guarantees in life.  And I think you just have to embrace what you have today and know that tomorrow will take care of itself.

This Is Why I Love Him:)

So, this morning my husband asked me - only for the 15th time - what an HSG is.  Tired of answering the question, I grabbed the laptop, typed "HSG" into google, and handed it to him.  He skimmed the article and then said, "I know what you really need to google."  And then he typed this -

"Dumb Husband"

Gotta love him:)

A Changing Sense of Hope

It all started when we were sitting on the couch.

"A baby?"  I said.

"Now?" he said.

"Soon" I said.

"Maybe" he said.

Or maybe we were lying in bed.  Or talking on the phone.  Truthfully, I don't really remember.  All I know is that at some point we were trying. 

And then a month went by.  And another.  And another. 

And they slipped into a year. 

And now here we are.  And I avoid this blog, because I think the stories I have to tell are too sad.  But I need to tell them.  Sometimes I feel as though my head is spinning.  Sometimes I feel as though if I keep recounting the facts they will change.  Time will become slippery and fluid and we won't have been trying for one year and four months.  We will have been trying for a moment.  A day. We will be filled with hope.

And yet we need to be filled with hope now, if ever.  Time presses on.  Tests are scheduled.  Plans are made.  And when I look into the future I can see two different lives.  In one version, we have a baby.  I work from home and am delighted to be there to hold my baby in my arms, so often.  In another, we stand up and walk away from this pain.  We decided to live our lives without children, to find what meaning we will.  I go back to school and become a social worker.  I help people face medical facts - I am the one who walks beside them, steadies their gate, helps them go on.

Both lives have value.  And I think it is important to see that having a child is not all there is.  I do believe we will go on if it does not happen.  I do believe we will be okay.

And part of me wants to do that now.  Part of me is done with the pain and has learned enough hard lessons.  But part of me wants to go on.  To call.  To schedule.  To wait for test results.  And to hope.  And for today the part that wants to go on is stronger than the part that wants to stop.  But I am aware that it could shift.  And I both yearn for and fear that day.