Dr. Phoenix

Well, I did it. I graduated! 

But I didn't get here alone. I thank my parents for helping me with tuition. (Just being honest because school is expensive.) I thank my boyfriend for making me coffee, cooking delicious meals (or ordering pizza when his work schedule got too crazy to cook), and providing endless emotional support. I thank my classmates for supporting my research topic. I thank my study participants for trusting me with their data. And I thank all of you for reading and commenting on my blog throughout the years. 

I definitely did not get here alone. 

And I continue to move forward. I still envision providing therapeutic support to women involuntarily childless after infertility. I cannot believe there are no established services yet. I will continue to work on my research about involuntarily childless women after infertility. I encourage future researchers to investigate the broader population of involuntarily childless women (and men!): childless by marriage, childless by circumstance, childless and stepparenting, etc.

It's been a lot lately. A lot of big feelings. I was sitting next to my friend at graduation. At one point I was starting to tear up. I leaned over and said to her, "I can't believe I'm here. I mean, I barely left my house for years. And now I'm graduating with a doctoral degree??" Honestly, it was pretty overwhelming.

It's not often that this happens, but I am at a loss for words.

Just simply, THANK YOU. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I did not get here alone. You are a part of this too.

Thank you.

Wrapping Up School

My 16-month marathon is coming to a close. I am so tired, so grateful, so excited, and so humbled. I still have so much to learn. But, the last 16 months have been one of the greatest investments of my time, energy, and money. 

Not only did I expand my skill set so now I know how to treat older and elderly adults in addition to children, but I got to conduct my own qualitative pilot study to explore the lived experience of involuntary childlessness after infertility! I am so grateful. Conducting actual research is a dream come true. Conducting research to represent our population in the academic literature is an honor that I took very seriously.

I am extremely grateful to the study participants that volunteered to be interviewed. I appreciate their willingness to talk about the worst experience of their life with me. I appreciate the trust they put in me, and I was very thoughtful throughout every step of the process: designing the study and collecting, managing, and analyzing the data.

I present my initial findings to my classmates and professors on Tuesday!

I conducted 15 interviews with women from 8 different countries. I analyzed the first 6 interview transcripts for my final project and will analyze the other 9 interviews throughout the rest of 2023. Then I will draft an article for publication in the winter of 2024. Afterward, I plan to present my findings at several conferences throughout the country. 

I am excited, and I could not have done this without you and your support. We are a growing population, we will be represented, and our collective voices will be heard!

Thank you.

💜

Spiraling

I'm not spiraling mentally or emotionally, thank goodness, but I am thoroughly involved in the spiraling process that is qualitative data analysis. 

I love qualitative research. Instead of using numbers to describe things, qualitative research uses words (i.e., narrative data). Qualitative research can describe the experience of an individual or group. It is very different from quantitative research, but there are ways of ensuring the rigor and accuracy of qualitative studies. I believe qualitative research can build a great foundation for future quantitative research in evaluating the effectiveness of treatments and programs.

I am grateful for this opportunity to interview women around the world to study being childless not-by-choice. I appreciate the support from my school and the guidance from my reviewers. I especially appreciate the study participants for trusting me with their data.

So that's what I'm doing on a Saturday night. It's an honor to do this work. I love it.

Archival print by Debra Bucci found at https://aibgallery.com/product/spiraling-archival-print/

Encouraging Research Participation

I had the pleasure and the honor to participate in research on involuntary childlessness yesterday. I say pleasure because it is nice to be asked questions about my experience and have someone listen to my answers with their full attention. I say honor because I believe it is important to research our experiences as involuntarily childless adults. Research drives legislation which drives policy. Until we have evidence about our experiences, we will continue to be overlooked in the various sectors of society. 

And we matter! Our experiences matter! 

Before participating in this interview, I emailed my research advisors to make sure it was okay. They did not see any conflict of interest and encouraged me to participate. (This researcher and I are both examining involuntary childlessness but through the lens of different professions and for different implications.) Then I told the researcher about my upcoming research project, but she did not see any conflicts of interest either. In fact, she is excited to have met a colleague researching involuntary childlessness. We were able to talk briefly about methodology and other aspects of our research.

This researcher is looking at people who used services from fertility clinics and who did and did not go on to have children. She shared that she is having a hard time finding people who did fertility treatments but never had children and now live a life without parenting. She still needs 5 - 6 more participants from the U.S. or Canada. I offered to write a blog post to get the word out, so, please, if you are over the age of 38, have failed fertility treatments, are living your life childless-not-by-choice, and can participate in a one-on-one anonymous and confidential interview, let me know! You can email me at infertilephoenix at gmail dot com. I will forward you the researcher's email address. This project has Institutional Review Board (IRB) approval, and it is all legit.

As for my research project, I am applying for IRB approval this semester. Then I will conduct my research in the summer. I am very, very excited. I will be interviewing women across the world who are involuntarily childless after infertility (fertility treatments not required), but I'm still working out the details of methodology so this is not an official announcement or call for participants or anything. It's more of a "heads up."

I believe in the power of research. As I learn how to advocate for my profession and my patients, I am learning that evidence-based rationales are the most persuasive. I am happy to contribute to the body of knowledge myself, as a research participant and later this year as a researcher.

Thank you for your consideration!

Breath of Fresh Air

Well, this semester is off to a running start! Instead of taking three classes, the program broke one of the classes into two, so I am taking four classes!! Maybe it won't be as overwhelming as it sounds right now...

So, get this. I had a positive experience with CNBC disclosure with one of my new professors. 

But first, if you want to go back in time and remember how horrible the professors were in my first program, feel free to reread this gem here: Self-Care Above All Else.

Ok, now back to the present! You can use this story to scrub your brain of that 2017 post.

In one of my classes we will have to complete three group projects with the same group. Although I like all of my classmates, I felt a little apprehensive about who would be in my group and what our topic would be. I had previously expressed an interest in women's health but then realized what that could lead to.

I quickly emailed the professor before the groups were assigned. I just flat out said I was an involuntarily childless survivor of infertility and failed IVF and, although I had expressed an interest in a group about women's health, I did not want to get stuck reading articles about pregnancy and post-partum issues. I told her that while I had healed immensely, I still avoided most things baby-related.

And do you know what she wrote back?

She wrote something along the lines of, "Thank you so much for letting me know. Of course, that makes sense, and I will definitely take that into consideration when forming the groups."

Gahhh that felt good! Recognition and validation without judgment or discomfort. It was worth waiting years to hear that kind of support.

And then you know what else?

I got assigned to be in a group with my two friends I've made in the program. And they both happen to be around my age, and neither of them has kids. I am pumped! I'm going to suggest animal therapy for our topic...

Know Your Limits

The second semester of my doctoral program is coming to an end. I don't know why, but I am still always surprised at how tired I am at the end. Yesterday I wrote a simple discussion post for one of my classes and promptly passed out for two hours.

Sometimes I wonder how I'd have the energy to raise children.

But NOPE!

When I have that thought, I quickly redirect my thinking. If I was raising children, I would do it. I would find the necessary energy. I mean, I've worked with thousands of kids. I've been in countless classrooms of 20 - 30 of them at a time. And none of them were even mine! 

So I would've been fine. I would've been tired, but I would've been fine. Hell, I'm tired now. I think all adults are tired. This society doesn't value rest and it can be hard to find the time ourselves. (Side rant: Why does *everything* fall on the individual to solve??)

But I digress.

So, school. Finishing up the semester.

I'm lucky to be in a really good cohort. My classmates are smart, hard working, and experienced in a variety of settings. I am learning so much from everyone. We also help each other a lot. People will send each other articles they come across if they know it's on someone else's topic. We will zoom or group text to talk about our questions and confusion. It's really positive.

All of our research topics are varied. I mean, the topics are really all over the board. Everyone knows I'm studying women who are involuntarily childless after infertility, and everyone has been very supportive. Interestingly, one of my classmates is studying the opposite of my topic. She's researching post-partum health and wellness for women. We have had several conversations with each other about our topics and have shared articles with each other as we've found them.

It's truly been awesome collaborating with her.
We both agree that there is a severe lack of support for all women.

However...

We must always know our limits.

She asked me for help with one of her assignments. I looked at the topic of her articles for the assignment. Lactation.

Friends.
I couldn't do it.
I couldn't read two articles about new mothers and lactation.

And that's okay. It's okay that I don't want to read about that topic. I don't have to. It's fine. My aversion to the topic is not a judgment against me. It's just me protecting myself. Conserving my energy by shielding my heart.

I let her know I couldn't help because the topic was too difficult for me. She completely got it, even apologizing for asking (which wasn't necessary). I wasn't mad at her or sad for me. I just knew I couldn't put any time or energy into reading her articles.

We must know our limits and respect them.

Inspired in a Scholarly Way

I had the privilege of interviewing two CNBC women this week for my class project where I am exploring the experiences of women without children after failed IVF. The interviews were incredible. I received so much rich narrative data, and I could barely believe the trust these women put in me. They shared some of their most hard-earned knowledge, some of their most brutal years with me... All so I could get valuable practice with conducting qualitative research. To say I am grateful is an understatement.

I think I'm on to something. We've all been in agreement for years that women need and deserve so much more support after going through fertility treatments. Fertility clinics usually leave women like us hanging. We are forced to fend for ourselves. I think if the scientific community had published evidence to reference, then therapeutic programs could be developed. I believe it is a much needed area of support for a very marginalized, unserved population.

I am seriously considering taking this on as my capstone, the culminating research project required for my doctoral degree. If so, I will need you. I will need all of you. Not just those with experience with IVF failure, I want to include all CNBC women who have experienced infertility. I want to represent our international population. Even if you are not available or interested in being interviewed, you may know a woman who is. My other idea is to reach out to fertility clinics and see if I can recruit research participants there. I will need enough participants to conduct a pilot study. There is a lot to be planned out for an undertaking like this. I have a professor that I trust to help guide me in the process. Starting next semester, I will have a year to complete it. I think, like everything else, I will keep putting one foot in front of the other and see what happens.

Picture retrieved from 

https://www.acspri.org.au/online-summer-program-2022/introduction-qualitative-research-online

Response to my Research Problem

I was a little apprehensive about posting my research problem online for my classmates to see. But... I'm also in a totally different place than I used to be. So, while part of me was a little nervous, the rest of me just didn't care at all. This is my life. I am not ashamed or embarrassed about it anymore.

So there it was for all to see, my research problem: Living Permanently Involuntarily Childless After IVF Failure. I introduced my classmates to the idea of pronatalism. And gave them the statistics on how often IVF doesn't work. Well, at the very least, I'm educating my classmates.

I figured nobody would comment. I figured nobody would touch my post with a ten foot pole. I also figured people were thinking, "So that's why she's so on top of all of the assignments; she doesn't have kids!" I was wrong about the first two. I don't know about people's private thoughts.

Interestingly, the post directly after mine is a research project proposal about postpartum depression and the lack of support services for women. It was written by a woman who experienced it after having her son. The very first comment on that post was from a classmate who said, "Congratulations on motherhood!" My boyfriend assured me that the blatant example of pronatalism did not go unnoticed by others. I hope he's right.

But, I was surprised by the support I received. The professor had never considered this research problem before and he thinks it will work perfectly with the research approach I've selected. Then two different classmates commented and a third texted me privately. One classmate shared that she has several friends struggling with IVF failure, saying she doesn't know how to support them and that this is a very important and under-researched topic. The second classmate shared that she has had two miscarriages and is grateful for my topic because it assures her that she is not alone. !!! And then, the third classmate that texted me, shared that one of her closest friends was admitted to the hospital for trying to end her life after IVF failure. !!!!! 

Yes, this is an important population to study. We need support services NOW.

Y'all. My cohort is small. Very small. Three people, not including myself, have already been open about being affected or having someone close to them being affected by infertility and involuntary childlessness. I was glad to receive the support for my project, but I was sad to see what we already know to be true: this shit is common.

I feel a responsibility to women suffering worldwide to keep going. It takes a lot out of me. I usually nap after reading and analyzing research. Writing my first draft wore me out. And this is just a class project, not anything official that can be published. But maybe in the future... 

I am interested in getting published in academic journals. I feel like that would legitimize the need for support services. We will see. One step at a time.

I'm still looking for one more volunteer. If you are a woman who is permanently involuntarily childless after IVF failure and would like to participate in an interview with me (where all identifying information will be kept confidential), please send me an email at infertilephoenix at g mail dot com.

Should this turn into research where I get approval from my school's institutional review board, I will cast the net wider and study our bigger CNBC community (not limited to IVF failure). 

Stay tuned!

And THANK YOU for your support. I wouldn't be where I am today with our community.

💜💜💜

Capable of Doing

I'm going through something. I kind of know what it is and I kind of don't. I'm in the "feeling my feelings" part of it. I know I'm not happy about some parts of my life, and I know I'm thrilled about others. I don't really know where I'm going with this... I just wanted to acknowledge it.

So, the news lately. Pretty devastating. Traumatizing. Paralyzing. Frustrating. Angering. Scary.

Have you read anything positive lately? I read about a woman who took her adult brother with intellectual disabilities to his first movie. She wasn't sure if he would like the movie theatre or need to walk around or what, so she scheduled a private screening. How thoughtful is that? Good news: he loved it! I loved reading that short story.

What else... I'm getting along with my mom. I'm getting along with both of my sisters. I'll never take that for granted. I love my family so much, and I know they love me. 

I've decided I don't like spring. Ha! Hahahaha. I mean, it's spring. Who doesn't like spring?? Me, apparently. I love winter. I love snow and quilting on a cold day and sitting around Xmas tree lights and skiing. And spring is the furthest away I am from winter. But really, it's the allergies... Everything is blooming. Everything is just so dang fertile! I can't stop sneezing, my throat is scratchy, and I live with a headache. And in today's times, I'm paranoid that it's covid. Fun stuff.

I've been going out to eat. I couldn't stand it anymore. I went 25 months living like a hermit and it was really affecting my mental health. Even a homebody can only take so much. So I go when it's not busy. I also live in the middle of nowhere. It's not densely populated and that makes me feel better too. I notice I've been tipping more. I'm just so thankful I don't have to cook or do dishes, and everything is so freaking expensive nowadays. So it's part of how I'm giving back to others. As long as the service doesn't completely suck, I'm tipping 25%. Not bragging or trying to be a hero, just trying to help others where I can. 

This post isn't really saying much. But that's okay. I made it. I am where I am. I climbed out of the pit that was despair and depression and chose to put one foot in front of the other. Most days. Some days I just stayed in bed. It's all a part of the process. But for several years there, I quite honestly didn't want to be alive. I wanted to get hit by a truck. Except I didn't. Because that would be really awful for the truck driver. So I came up with a life I could live with. And now I am living it. It's a good one and I am thankful.

Still, I'm going through some major changes. My career, my relationship... These are no small things. I don't know what the other side will look like, but we never do. 

I have big news. I'm back in school! It's such an opportunity and I am extremely grateful. Still, it's hard. But like my mom said, getting your doctorate is supposed to be hard. Ha! She's right. 

I'm throwing myself into this program. I'm studying like I've never studied before. I'm actually doing all of the readings. And taking notes on them. It's like, for the first time in my life, I want to know alllllll the things. I'm doing my assignments with the intention of learning the content, not to just meet my due dates. It's pretty awesome. And hard. But I already mentioned that.

It's only my first semester, but I'm already dipping my toes into research. I'm researching the scientific literature and writing about infertility and living CNBC for my first project. I can't call it research officially because I'm not going through the institutional review board approval process, but, if it all goes well and feels right, I may turn this project into Real Research. 

I will need a couple of you this month or next to interview. Your name and identifying information will remain confidential. Send me an email if you're interested (infertilephoenix at g mail). My project is about the experience of permanent involuntary childlessness after IVF failure.

That's all for all now, friends. My thoughts are scattered and my emotions are at the surface. I feel like big changes are on the horizon. But that's life; nothing stays the same. While enduring this latest period of transition, I will be reading my textbooks. And sewing a little bit. While watching tv at night, I'm working on an applique project for my next quilt top.

I love you all. Take good care of yourselves.

 

The Greatest Compliment

I'm back to my blogging roots--blogging as procrastination hahaha. I started this blog when I was deep into the first semester of graduate school and had absolutely no time or energy. Yet I was also drowning in grief and loneliness and desperately needed an outlet. Who cares about assignments and grades when you're grieving the loss of your children?? So while all of my classmates spent their time reading and studying, I started an infertility blog.

A lot has happened in my life over the last several months while I wasn't blogging. One of those major events was graduating. I did it! I completed my coursework and clinical rotations and walked across the stage to receive my degree. I am proud of myself and my current self thanks my past self for not dropping out. I love the profession I've been studying for the past 2.5 years. Now I just have to study (that's what I'm currently procrastinating by blogging right now) and pass my board exam and I will get to start my new career!

As I progress in my recovery from infertility (three steps forward, two steps back is still progress), I'm able to talk about things or overhear things or just be around things a little more easily. I'm relieved. Living in a heightened, traumatized state is no way to live. It is exhausting.

My last clinical rotation was in a pediatric setting. I'll probably write more about that experience, working in pediatrics as an infertile woman whose lifelong dream was to be a mother, but for now I'd just like to say how much I loved and appreciated my clinical instructor. I got really lucky. All of my clinical instructors were awesome--knowledgeable, experienced, good teachers, and also overall all around cool people.

I got along well with my instructor and we worked very closely together every day. I don't remember how it came up, but I told her that I wanted children and couldn't have them and that's what triggered my whole going back to school venture. Over the semester, I even shared that I had failed treatments and spent years dealing with major depression. It was never awkward and whenever I disclosed any personal information it was always organic, in the moment, and non-dramatic. She was an amazing fertile woman who never said anything insensitive (shocker!!). She'd had her own unexpected life and was very wise. I learned so much from her.

It was a challenging rotation. It would've been for anyone but especially for someone dealing with infertility. I spent five to eight hours a day working directly with children, many of whom experienced abuse, neglect, food insecurity, and homelessness. It was both rewarding and heartbreaking, and I could not have done it at any point earlier in my recovery. I wasn't ready yet. But by the fall of 2018, I had worked hard on my grieving process, worked hard in school, and had mentally prepared myself as best I could for a semester working with children. I chose to do a pediatrics rotation. I needed to know if I could do it or not before committing to a job.

There is no dramatic conclusion to this post. I just woke up, showed up, and did what I could while maximizing my learning for twelve weeks. But at the end of the semester, I received one of the greatest compliments of my life. My clinical instructor told me I did an incredible job. It felt good to hear her say that. But she continued. "No, I mean it. This is a difficult experience for anyone. All of my students have had a hard time. But for you to do as well as you did, especially after everything you've been through with infertility... It's amazing. You have a gift in working with people and I am so proud of you for working so hard to create a new life for yourself."

Damn... Who knew a little recognition of my pain, loss, and hard work could feel so good?

💜💜💜

Update: Still Exhausted hahaha

Creating a new life is exhausting! It's worth it though. It's already worth it, and it's only going to get better. But right now, my clinical rotation is kicking my butt!!! I feel so in over my head, but every day I learn so much. I don't really like it, but I do appreciate it. I appreciate the learning opportunity and I appreciate my clinical instructor. She is really tough, but she is also nice.

I'm starting to feel a little settled after the move. My apartment is unpacked, organized, and decorated. I have started meal prepping on Sundays, which makes the rest of my week go so much smoother. I'm not doing anything gourmet or anything. I just make a quiche so I have a slice for breakfast every day. Then I choose one thing to eat for lunch every day and make 5 servings of that. Then I make sure I have an easy dinner available. Right now I'm doing pasta, which is basically just boiling water and using a pre-made sauce from a jar. Maybe I'll get fancier after I graduate.

Right now though I am pretty proud of myself. For getting up every day and going into the clinic, knowing that I am going to be overwhelmed and uncomfortable for the next 8 hours. (This is the steepest learning curve of my life!) And also for taking care of myself and eating three meals a day. I don't have a choice about breakfast. I have to eat something that will fuel me through the bulk of my work day. And I definitely work up an appetite for lunch. Then dinner is small but that's okay because I'm also going to bed pretty early these days.

Wow, I am such a party animal right now hahaha.

I knew this period in my life would be very challenging. I knew everything leading up to this period would be very challenging. But I just could not sit all day on my couch and cry (or not cry) all day anymore. I couldn't do nothing, so I had to do something. One little step at a time.

Survived the Semester

Well it's official. A woman who has lost her children to infertility and (although no longer in the acute phase) is still grieving and processing her experiences CAN survive a semester about pediatrics in a terrible program with awful professors who favor students who are parents.

Really, there is no limit to what women like us can accomplish. We emerge from our caves of darkness with a profound strength and sensitivity we never asked for. What doesn't kill you... Well, what doesn't kill you, doesn't kill you. We are still alive, so here we are.
So what do we want to do?

I took my last final exam yesterday and I never have to go back to that horrible campus again.
It's over. It's done. I am finished.

And I am incredibly proud. Proud of myself. Proud of my husband and marriage for making it through everything we've been through. Proud of this community for the crucial support and understanding you all have given me. We did it!!!

I am feeling very empowered right now, and I believe all of us can create a new plan (no matter how big or small) and make it happen. You don't have to change your entire life like I'm doing. Don't feel that kind of pressure. We have all felt enough negativity already to last us a lifetime.

But I survived infertility when I didn't think I could. I survived this disappointing school program when I doubted that I could. And I survived this incredibly-challenging-for-so-many-reasons semester when I really just wanted to quit and run away.

We are survivors. And nothing can ever take that away from us. And with surviving comes an immeasurable strength and perseverance that will serve us for the rest of our lives.

Irritations After Infertility

I realized a couple of years ago that I have infertility-induced entitlement. We had just moved into our rental house and there was a problem with the kitchen plumbing that affected the sink and dishwasher. I was still living in a state of high anxiety due to the previous years of traumatic infertility and failed fertility treatments, and I was SO MAD about the plumbing problem. The plumbing *was* a problem and the maintenance guy *was* slow to fix it (and eventually it *was* repaired), but I still think my anger was disproportionate to the problem. My best friend gently pointed that fact out to me and that's when I realized I was subconsciously thinking: I've already lost my children. Everything else for the rest of my life should be easy.

But that's not life. That's not reality. There will always be difficulties and challenges.

So since that realization, I have tried to remain conscious of it. I try to be patient with my problems and patient with myself. With each passing year, my anxiety decreases a bit and that helps overall as well.

But I still notice it. I still notice my infertility-induced entitlement.

You already know this if you've been following along, but my current irritation is school. It is taking everything I have to finish up my coursework with my less-than-understanding, unprofessional professors. A couple of weeks ago I was accused of cheating on a test. I have never been accused of cheating on anything. Additionally, I have never cheated on a test. I'd much rather fail something honestly than cheat. Part of that is fear of being caught, but a bigger part of it is plain old integrity. I may be a lot of things, but I am NOT a cheater.

I got so angry. I was also extremely worried. Cheating is a big accusation, and it could've gotten me kicked out of the program. As I waited to talk to the professor that accused me, I texted my husband freaking out. He is usually a very patient person, but even he is down to his last straw with my program. He reassured me that we would get through whatever happened, that we were still moving forward with our plan. He encouraged me to stay calm and professional and handle the situation. But all I could think was: Seriously?? I've already lost my children and now I may be kicked out of a program that I have spent 3 years and a good chunk of change on. With nothing to show for it all? Again?? I noticed the entitlement I was feeling and took a couple of slow, deep breaths to prepare for meeting with the professor. The good news is it was all a big misunderstanding, she knows I didn't cheat, and nothing became of the situation. After an extremely stressful couple of hours, it was over and done. Gahhh this school...

As if I needed more evidence about the terribleness of this program... Remember my pregnant classmate? Well, I knew her due date was coming up and that she would be having her baby pretty soon. I didn't realize how soon. She came to class last week to take a quiz, a quiz that she would not have been able to make up had she missed it, and get this. She was in early labor!!! What. I ran into her in the bathroom and she was talking to another classmate about it. She said her contractions were about 15 to 20 minutes apart. I jokingly said, "Well, wait to have a contraction before you start the quiz (we only had ten minutes to take the timed quiz on the computer), and then hopefully you will get through it without a contraction." But I added, "In all seriousness, if you need anything, you know you have 39 classmates willing to do whatever you need." She came to school to take a stupid quiz while in early labor. Un-freaking-believable. I don't fault her at all. It's the climate this program creates. She felt she couldn't afford to miss it. Then after the quiz she went straight to the hospital. I'm still in shock over the situation.

The good news is she had the baby without complications, and she and her baby are healthy and doing well. The bad news (for me) is this is all I'm going to be hearing about for the rest of the semester. Every professor begins class asking about the baby and I often overhear classmates talking about it. I know it is good practice as I am re-entering the real world, but it doesn't mean it's easy for me.

The worst was last Wednesday. We were sitting in class about to go over a test we had taken. I assumed the professor was going to use the document camera to project the test questions onto the large presentation screen in the classroom. I looked up and, what was on the screen? Not the test. A picture of my classmate's newborn. Newborn pictures are the hardest for me. One of my best friends from high school had a baby two weeks ago and, while I am very happy for her, looking at pictures of her with her newborn is painful for me. And there I was, in class, just staring at this huge picture of another newborn. I quickly looked down and thought, okay, it's fine, this is normal. People want to see the baby. It won't be up there long. I will continue to keep my eyes on the page in front of me and soon we will go over the test. We began going over the test. I only had my answer sheet in front of me, not the questions, so I looked back up to see the test questions. But there were no test questions being projected, just the same newborn picture staring back at me. I quickly looked back down again. Surely the picture won't be up there for the duration of the class I thought to myself. A few minutes passed, nothing changed, and so I got up to leave the room. I told my friend sitting next to me that he could check my test for me if he wanted to but I wasn't staying. Then I left. I went and sat in the hallway, wondering if I was going to be there the whole class time. After about thirty minutes, a classmate came out of the room to go to the bathroom. I asked if they were done going over the test and she said yes. I asked if the baby picture was still up on the big screen. She seemed confused but said no. So I decided to go back in for the last fifteen minutes of class. I walked in and there were two of my friends going over my test for me, seeing which answers I got correct and which ones I got wrong. They knew why I left, but neither one of them said anything. They just smiled and said, "You only missed three!" Then the professor began lecturing and nothing was said to me about the whole thing. Thank God for my friends.

So yeah, I wish I wasn't still dealing with difficult moments. I've already been through so much. I don't want to go through anything else ever again. But I know that's not how life works. Just because I've endured one traumatic period in my life, that doesn't mean I won't have to deal with other traumatic episodes or even minor irritations.

At least, although I kind of hate saying "at least" but still, at least my surviving infertility gave me coping skills and perspective. When irritations arise I remind myself, "I will get through this." When bad things happen, I tell myself, "This isn't the worst thing in the world." Life goes on.

Failure

Failure is never fun. It never feels good. Especially when you've put your blood, sweat, and tears into your endeavors and have given it your all.

I almost failed high school chemistry. I just didn't understand the subject. And my teacher didn't know more than one way to explain the concepts. I kept doing my homework and studying for the tests, not understanding anything. To this day, I have no idea how I passed.

My first semester in college I had to take chemistry as part of the requirements for my biology major. I was really, really dreading it. But on the first day of class the professor explained his "No Fail" contract. If you went to every class and every review session, turned in every homework assignment on time, and kept a daily journal about what you did and didn't understand from lecture and turned it in at the end of the semester, you were guaranteed at least a D. I was relieved! It was actually going to be impossible for me to fail the course!! So, despite failing every homework assignment and every exam, I kept showing up. I went to all of the review sessions, again not understanding anything. I wrote in my journal every day after class about what the topics were and what I did not understand--which was, you guessed it, everything, but I tried to write in detail about what and how I did not understand. Then at the end of the semester he never asked for our signed contracts or our journals. So I looked up where his office was and trekked over to a part of campus I had never seen and to a building I had never been in. I nervously knocked on his door and he said to come in. I walked in to see a stereotypical scene, a professor writing furiously at his desk surrounded by piles and piles of papers everywhere. He said, "Yes?" obviously not recognizing me. (Chemistry was a very large class.) I said, "You never asked for our No Fail contracts or our journals in class, so I brought you mine to turn in." He stared at me for a second and said, "You did that?" And right then I knew I was the first student he'd had that had ever fulfilled the requirements of the contract. I said, "Well, yes. I don't want to fail the class." He said okay and asked my name and asked me for my journal, trying to find a spot in his office where he could set it down. I shared that chemistry was a difficult subject for me and thanked him for offering the No Fail contract. He smiled, said "you're welcome," and almost seemed entertained by me (but not in a condescending way). And you know what? After failing everything all semester, I got a C! I think by just doing all the requirements of the contract, he bumped my grade up from an F to a C. That is, by far, the grade I am most proud of in my life.

Which brings me to my biology course... It was the first class required for my biology major and the reason why I had to take chemistry in the first place. After going to every class and doing all of the readings, I still, yep, failed every exam. I was very concerned. I had wanted to be a marine biologist since I was a little kid, but how could I if I was failing the basic entry-level biology course? I went and talked to the professor. Who was also the head of the department. To say I was intimidated is an understatement. But he was very friendly and approachable and spent a good amount of time talking with me. Our meeting concluded with him basically saying to do whatever I wanted but he didn't think my calling was to be a biologist. Without putting me down at all, he encouraged me to explore other avenues. I took his advice and enrolled in the most random collection of classes the next semester in an effort to find something I felt passionate about learning. Not understanding the course numbering system, I inadvertently signed up for a senior level sociology course. And I loved it. After turning in our first assignment, the professor asked me what other sociology courses I had taken because she didn't recognize my name. I admitted I was a freshman but requested to stay in the class, assuring her that I knew it was my hardest class that semester and I was committed to putting in the time and the work it required. She let me stay and it was one of my most favorite classes of my life. I had found my new major.

So I've experienced failure. I've experienced disappointment. I've experienced having to change the course of my life when what I was doing wasn't working out.

But nothing prepared me for my "failure" to parent. Nothing.

Losing your children does not compare to failing a class. Not getting to parent and changing your entire life because of it does not compare to changing your major, even if you thought your career was going to be in one field your whole life and then it ended up being in a completely different field. There is no comparison between infertility and anything else.

But here I am. I survived. I survived two and a half years of taking my temperature every morning. I survived over four years of getting my period every month. I survived countless blood draws, injections, and ultrasounds. I survived five failed fertility treatments. I became an expert at failure.

And now I am failing my pediatrics course. Yes, after over 20 years of experience working with children, I am failing pediatrics. Yes, after digging deeper than I ever thought possible to find the will to engage in the world again and recreate my life, I am failing one of my last classes in my last semester of coursework.

I am stressed. I am angry. I am concerned.

I have attempted to set up a conference with the professor, but nothing has been scheduled yet. My classmates keep trying to tell me that it is fine, that it will all work out and that I will pass. But I cannot sit idly by, doing nothing, after everything I've been through.

There is no reason I should be failing. I blame the poorly designed assignments and the extremely poorly written exams. But here I am. I am failing the class.

Just like in the past, I will keep showing up. I will study my butt off for the rest of the semester. I will try to meet with the professor to express my concerns, and I am absolutely documenting my efforts to do so. I am keeping all of my study notes I have written as proof of my efforts and hard work. I will not go down without a fight.

I think I will pass.
I will be okay if I don't.
I am still going to move to a different state, and I am still moving on with my life.

Just like I've done with everything else so far, I will survive.

Another Day, Another Insult

I woke up Tuesday morning and as I got ready to go to school I thought, "I wonder how I will be insulted today?" Sad, isn't it? That I've just come to expect it now...

My question was answered within the first hour of class.

We were discussing a research article and a classmate made the observation that the condition being studied was more prevalent in mothers 30 years old and older. The classmate shared, "This makes me nervous because I am getting close to 30." So regardless of what comments, if any, followed my classmate's comment, the fact is she just shared a very personal (and some would even say very private) worry with our class. And what does the professor do? She blasts all of us, effectively shutting everyone down. I saw it happen before my very eyes. Not only that one classmate, but at least a quarter of the class immediately stopped participating in discussion. And then the professor had the gall to tell us that we were "awfully quiet this morning, even more quiet than usual." Wow. Talk about not being able to read a room... Additionally, talk about being a thoughtless and insensitive person... So what was it that the professor said?

The professor (weirdly looking directly at me, more on that later) said:
"It's a major problem when women wait until they're 35 to have their first child."

Seriously.
She said that.
I can't even make this stuff up.

So... Let's unpack this...

• As I said above, my classmate just shared with the class a very personal concern of hers regarding a very sensitive issue and the professor provided no support and instead fueled her fears.
• My professor, who is not a medical doctor, stated her opinion extremely strongly and aggressively even though it was not necessary or even directly related to what we were discussing that day.
• My professor played into the fears that a lot of my classmates have, who are delaying getting pregnant because they are in this graduate program where we have been explicitly instructed not to get pregnant. (That in itself is messed up. I've said it before, but you cannot dictate other people's reproductive timelines.)
• The professor went on to talk about how women are the most fertile in their teens and early 20s and that it wasn't right that so many women "waited." First of all, I would bet a million dollars that this same woman would judge any teen pregnancy HARD. Don't have them too early (irresponsible), but don't have them too late (idiot), am I right? UGH!!!
• Furthermore, does she really think all people CHOOSE to WAIT? Maybe people don't want to have children until they can, oh I don't know, afford food, clothing, and shelter. Not to mention day care, health insurance, a car, car insurance, and everything else that costs money and adds up quick. Maybe some people don't meet their partner that they want to have a family with until they are 30 or 40. Maybe they spent their 20s overcoming an addiction or an eating disorder or cancer. Maybe a million other things that are out of people's control...

SO. MUCH. JUDGMENT.

I was disgusted. Of course, I had a visceral reaction. My body immediately got warm, and, even though her comments and attitude were so outrageous they didn't even warrant a reaction from me, I still got angry. I looked down, took some deep breaths, sent out love to all of my classmates whose fears were just preyed upon, and pictured my husband who has told me repeatedly, "Just don't cuss anyone out. You are almost done with these classes. Those professors are not worth your time or energy."

I said nothing. I am not here to argue with her. I am not here to educate her on the intricacies involved in the wrong assumptions about childlessness. I am here to learn as much as I can for my future profession (which apparently includes experiencing how I do NOT want to treat my future patients). I am here to keep my head down, mouth shut, and graduate. I cannot fix the culture of that terrible place. Not when the professors hold all the power and have no accountability to anyone.

But later I was thinking about how she looked directly at me when she said it. Now I know I can be hypersensitive, maybe even a little paranoid, but I have come a very long way in my recovery. I don't personalize everything anymore. I have lowered my expectations. I know this world doesn't understand my reality and when people say their ignorant comments it is about them and not about me. But I still thought about how she looked right at me. And then later that day while I was exercising, it clicked.

She knows.
She knows I wanted children and she knows I don't have them.
And she is blaming me.

What a terrible, unhappy person.

I put a couple of pieces of information together in my head. I wasn't doing this consciously. I really want to spend as little energy as possible on those professors and that educational institution. I just want to learn the academic material and graduate with my degree. But my subconscious put it all together and the realization just rose to the top.

There was a short essay I wrote first semester. There was an email I sent second semester. There were the innocuous comments I made when participating in class discussions. I have never explicitly stated anything, but, regardless of her negative traits, she is a very smart woman. She connected the dots and you cannot convince me that she doesn't know, at least in vague terms, that my not having children wasn't my choice.

Wow.

And this makes her cruel and evil.

I have nothing to say to her. I have no points to make. I will not change her mind. But what I can do is reach out to my classmates and agree with them that this woman is not a nice person. We are all sticking together to get through what has been an extremely disappointing experience.

I am fine. Don't worry about me. The situation has reached a point of ridiculousness that it's not even hurting my feelings anymore. I've told all of my classmates that if they ever find themselves in a similar situation in a future job that they should just quit. This is not normal; this is not okay.

Have I mentioned that I'm looking forward to finishing my coursework?

An Infertile Visits the NICU

I wanted a baby my whole life.

(Well technically, after watching my sisters get married young and have their children young I knew I wanted some time being an adult without a husband and kids for a little bit, so I always wanted a baby in my early 30s my whole life.)

I wanted a baby to fall asleep on my chest. I wanted a baby to reach their arms out to me. I wanted to feed my baby and change my baby and soothe my baby and take care of my baby when they were sick.

But I didn't just want a baby. I wanted a toddler and a little kid and a big kid and even a pre-teen (my least favorite age). I wanted a teenager and a young adult and an independent adult. I wanted to watch my baby grow up and create their own life that brought them happiness, complete with a job and healthy relationships and hobbies and volunteer activities.

I didn't get that baby. I didn't get that baby the old fashioned way, with assisted reproductive technology, or through adoption. And now, after planning my whole life around my baby (making life choices about my career, where to live, etc.), I am creating a new life for myself. I am creating a new life that will bring me happiness, complete with a job and healthy relationships and hobbies and volunteer activities.

But yesterday I visited the NICU on a school field trip and it reminded me of what I will never have.

I knew the trip was coming and I was actually looking forward to it but the night before I started dreading it. Then I woke up in the worst mood. My husband said, "Good morning!" and all I said was, "No." He laughed at my grumpiness, not realizing what was on my agenda for the day.

Like I usually do on days/events that I anticipate will be tough, I texted my best friend. I told her I had to go visit the NICU. She wrote back with the most encouraging and inspiring words. She said this visit was about me as a professional learning more so I could help kids in need. (She knows that I love working with kids.) She said, "This is why you've worked so hard and put up with so much shit... This isn't about your heartache. This is about your gift of healing. You got this." It was just what I needed to hear; it really helped me shift my perspective and I told her so. She said, "Much love coming your way. You got this. And I got you."

Seriously, can we please just clone her??
Every infertile woman deserves a friend like her. She always knows what to say!

I got dressed in my scrubs and a trustworthy classmate met me at my house and I drove us to the hospital together. I was thankful I had someone with me that knew at least a little bit of what I've been through. I really didn't feel like being around anyone else. Especially the asshole professor who refuses to answer my questions in class but answers other people's. (Yeah, that's a whole other story... Not even worth telling. There's no reason for her to have ill feelings toward me. I've never said or done anything rude or unprofessional in her classes. She just has favorites and seems to hate the rest of us. Add it to the millions of reasons I can't wait to get out of there.)

We parked, we walked in, we found the NICU, and we waited for our visit to begin. I looked at my classmates. Other than one woman in her early 30s, I was ten to fifteen years older than everyone else. I knew this was going to be a much different experience for me than it would be for them and I took a deep breath.

The visit to the NICU began.

We first met in a room to hear about how our morning was going to go. It was the same woman from our lecture the previous week, the woman who was very mommy-centric. She began by asking if anyone was pregnant and everyone shook their head. She repeated that visiting the NICU can be very upsetting for pregnant women so she always gave them the choice of opting out. For a second or two I debated saying something. Here was my chance that I missed in class. I wanted to say something about how the NICU could be upsetting to women who have lost babies too, but before I said anything she said, "But really, that option is open to everyone. You can opt out at any time, no questions asked." Okay, I'll give her a point for recognition there...

The first baby we saw weighed about five pounds and was, of course, adorable. We were learning about the equipment she needed while in the hospital and what all services she received. We also watched her feed from a bottle, which took f  o   r    e     v      e       r. I knew then that working in the NICU was not my calling. I did not want to spend so much time holding and feeding babies. When it wasn't causing me heartache, I think doing that every day would be incredibly boring for me.

Since it took so long, we were also hearing our "tour guide" tell us so much more information while the baby was feeding. I looked around the room at my classmates and I think that was the hardest part of the whole trip. Imagine being in a very small room with 12 other women, most in their early 20s, with a very small adorable infant. They were ga-ga over that baby. Their eyes were glistening, their smiles were huge, and they kept uttering things like "awww" and "so cute!!" I immediately looked away and kept my eyes focused on the baby for the rest of our time in the room. I had no idea that the easiest part of the trip was going to be staring down a baby.

We also saw a baby in an isolette. This baby was born at 23 weeks and was now 25 weeks old. I was worried that this would upset me, but I wanted to get the full experience of the NICU visit and learn all I could so I gave her observation a try. And I am so glad I did. She was fascinating! This tiny little baby with so many lines and tubes attached, bundled up in her little incubator was waving her arms so strongly. You could totally tell she was a fighter! I never thought that I could find inspiration in a preemie, but I was in awe.

Throughout the visit, I avoided my professor as much as possible. She is just not a nice person. I also hung to the back as we were walking through the halls. I didn't want to hear my classmates talking about when they were going to have kids or hear stories about their little siblings or nieces and nephews. I tried to learn as much medical information as possible while tuning out all of the chatter.

Then when it was over I was supposed to go back to campus for a meeting, but I went straight home and fell asleep for three hours. Anticipating that trip, being in the NICU, managing my emotions, and protecting myself wore me out completely. When I woke up, I felt pretty numb for the rest of the day.

It was only late last night, at the very end of the day, that I cried. I asked my husband, "Why didn't I get to have a baby?" He didn't have an answer. But he did share how happy he currently was and how excited he was about our plans together. Honestly, his words didn't really help me in the moment but at least they didn't make me feel worse.

Overall, it was good experience, very interesting, but it wasn't easy at all. I'm glad it's over.

Studying Pediatrics Sucks Sometimes

Today was awful. Well, I guess there's still the rest of this afternoon, evening, and tonight. Let me rephrase. This morning was awful. It was tough and terrible and it totally sucked all of the energy out of me.

I knew this semester was going to be challenging and not just in the academic way. This semester we are studying pediatrics. Up until today, everything had been fine and for that I am grateful. I think I had even started to let my mental guard down a little... I shouldn't have. Because I got sideswiped today.

The morning started out with a quiz. Quizzes are never fun, but I was actually prepared and sitting outside the testing room reviewing my notes. That's when I overheard one classmate explaining the process of getting pregnant--the first day of your last menstrual period, ovulation, and implantation two weeks after that... To the pregnant classmate!!!!! She is pregnant and didn't know all that stuff. But of course she didn't. She didn't have to know it. She just had sex with her husband and got pregnant. For free. Gahhhh. I put my fingers in my ears to block out the conversation and kept studying.

(Side note: That quiz was hard. I studied for about four hours yesterday, took 18 pages of handwritten notes (because I am old and I handwrite everything, which is a better learning strategy anyway, but I digress on my digression), and I still only got an 80. I mean, an 80 is fine, but after all that work I honestly wanted a 100.)

Moving forward. The quiz is over and we began the morning lecture. We have an upcoming field trip to the NICU (the intensive care unit for babies) and the professor was going over the logistics. Then she said, "Is anyone else besides 'Pregnant Classmate' pregnant? Or is it just her?" Um what... Like someone is going to be all, oh yeah, I'm pregnant. I just haven't told anyone yet, but right now would be a perfect time to reveal personal information to the entire class. Gah. No one answers, so apparently no one else is pregnant. The professor went on to say that Pregnant Classmate is allowed to skip the field trip if she wants because she knows the NICU can be upsetting to pregnant women. I immediately thought: What about women who have lost babies? Wouldn't the NICU be even more upsetting for them? We don't know what everyone has been through. There might be someone sitting in that class who has had a traumatic experience in the NICU. But no one ever considers the infertile and baby loss population, do they? Now that I am home and thinking about my day, I am really regretting not raising my hand and asking that question.

Moving on. Then the guest lecturer came. She works in a NICU and was there to give a presentation about the environment, equipment, medical conditions seen there, and other related information. The first thing out of her mouth was, "Who here has kids?"

Can I just go home now? I am done with this day.

I haaate that question. It implies that only parents know about children, which is simply untrue.

So all the regular people raised their hands. We all know who has kids by now. And then the guest lecturer went on to talk about the NICU. Without even connecting her presentation to the question she just asked. Whether or not people were parents had nothing to do with the entire lecture! There was no reason to ask that question. And then, of course, the last slide of her presentation was a collage of pictures of her daughter.

It was too much. I was already stressed and sleepy. My emotional resources were low. And then I got caught off guard three times within an hour and a half. I came home and crashed for over two hours. It all just exhausted me. Studying pediatrics with fertile people can really suck sometimes.

Unwanted Shower Invitation

I haven't thought about infertility much in the last two weeks. That in itself is a small miracle, something I would have never thought possible a couple of years ago. I guess that's a plus side to being so busy you don't have time to think.

But I can share with you something that happened Saturday night. There I was--snuggled in my couch in some comfy clothes with a blanket while I watched a movie. I was warm. I was content. I was happy. My husband was out and I was enjoying a moment to myself where I didn't have to do or think about a single thing.

Then my phone starts going crazy. I'm getting message after message after message, and it really starts to interrupt my enjoyment of the movie. So I look at my phone and I'm confused for a minute. And then I immediately think, what in the hell?

My classmates use one of the many apps available to communicate amongst each other. It's helpful when asking each other questions, clarifying assignment directions, etc. A new group had been created. On a Saturday night. Called Surprise Baby Shower. And everyone was added to it (except for the pregnant classmate obviously because it's a surprise).

I immediately had a visceral reaction. My stomach churned and I felt feverish. I couldn't even really read the messages. Everything looked blurry and I felt a little dizzy. The first message said something about how they're planning a surprise baby shower for so and so on such and such date and could we all please give some money to buy her presents (for her THIRD child) and who all could bring what to eat. At least I think that's what it said. My reading comprehension capability was severely decreased due to my emotions.

Quite honestly, I was pissed. I did not ask to be a part of this party and I sure as hell did not want to be in this messaging group. Plus, they had interrupted my happy, cozy Saturday night.

How presumptuous to think that everyone in our class is emotionally invested in this girl's pregnancy or even interested in throwing her a surprise baby shower!

I left the group. Amidst the barrage of messages that were being hurled my way, I scrolled over to the screen that let me remove myself from the group and I noped out of there as fast as I could.

I know when you leave a group on that app everyone can see it. There would have been a message posted in the group: "Phoenix has left the group." (Well, obviously I'm not "Phoenix" with my classmates so it said my first and last name.) But I didn't care. I didn't want my Saturday night interrupted. I didn't want constant notifications about new messages. I didn't want to get on my phone and see "Surprise Baby Shower" in my list of groups. I. Did. Not. Want. To be. In. That. Group.

So I left.
And I didn't care that everyone could see that I left.
And I didn't care what people may have been thinking.
And I still don't.

I took a couple of deep breaths, texted my husband complaining about the situation, got some reassuring words from him, and went back to my movie, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

One funny thing came out of the situation. On Monday one of my favorite classmates asked if he could talk to me. "Sure," I said. I could tell he wanted to talk about or ask me something privately so we went down the hallway where there was no one. He asked me, "Did you leave that group that so and so created?" I said, "Yes." I think he was surprised that I left the group knowing it was public to everyone. He repeated, "Really?" And I said, "Yep. I didn't ask to be in that group. Get that shit off my phone." And he busted out laughing. He said he laughed so hard and so long when he saw that on Saturday night. He said that he thought to himself, "Well one thing is for sure. Phoenix isn't fake." And then he told me that he loved it and it was the funniest thing he had seen in a long time.

So, hey, I took care of myself and I made my friend laugh. Not bad for a situation I didn't ask for.

Another Semester in the Books

I did it. I finished another semester. I was crawling to the finish line, but I did it.

If you've read anything I've written about school, you know that I don't like it. But I'd like to say that I have grown to greatly appreciate it, separate from how it has given me something to do and work toward while working through the grief of losing my children. I have grown to appreciate school for what I'm learning and the madness of the program. Still don't love the professors, but I have learned a lot from them! I think that's more important. I don't have to like them as long as I am learning from them. Haha how mature of me.

This time last year I had just finished my first semester and it was the hardest thing that I had ever done in my life, school-wise. I was depleted and discouraged and looking at another year of straight school: spring, summer, and fall semesters of 2017. I knew it was gonna be tough. I knew I didn't have a lot in me. I knew that the previous four years of my life had already killed me. But there I was, still standing. So I just kept moving, one thing at a time.

And I did it. I did the spring semester. I did the summer semester. And I did the fall semester.
And I am exhausted. :)

I'll take a few days to rest and recuperate. Then I'm going to tackle the last of the storage unit, once and for all. I'm still keeping a lot, but I want to get it all as organized and compact as possible.

Because if life goes as planned...
(Yeah, I'm never going to be able to say that again with a straight face. Plans, ha!)

I will be moving next summer.

Wow.

A plan, over three years in the making. Set in motion exactly one week after my last IVF didn't result in pregnancy. I got the phone call, went numb, gave myself a week to cry (or rather, not cry, as I had run out of tears by that point) and stare at the wall. Then, on the 7th day, I decided we were moving. About a month after that I decided I was going back to school for a new career.

I'm really glad I didn't know what I was getting myself into. The prerequisite courses, the application process, getting the house ready to sell, looking for a rental, moving, putting the house on the market, selling it, starting school- registering, buying books, orientation, classes, studying, quizzes, tests, and projects. Yeah, I'm really glad I didn't know what I was getting myself into hahaha.

I just did everything one step at a time and didn't think about it all at once. And here I am. I can honestly say it has been worth it. Not infertility. My hard work. All of my hard work with myself and my marriage and redirecting my life and going back to school and, the biggest of them all, grieving and feeling everything that comes with grief. The hard work has been worth it and for that I am extremely grateful.

I'm glad I finished this semester and I'm glad I get a little break.

Thank you for reading, for commenting, and for encouraging and relating with me. Thank you to the other blog writers. Our blogs are the only place where I can talk freely about my life and have people understand. There is so much I don't have to explain to you, and I just really appreciate it. Thank you.

It Keeps Getting Better

Lately I've been using all of my writing mojo to try and finish up this semester's assignments. I miss posting here. I like to try to write something at least once a week. Overall, I'm feeling and coping so much better compared to the last 5 years. I still have a long list of topics I want to write about though, so I do appreciate this space.

I've been keeping up with my reading at least. Blogs, not school. Haha there's no way I could keep up with the reading for school. It's physically impossible. But I've read what everyone has written. I just haven't commented. I really, really appreciate everyone's blogs.

It's easy for me to feel reflective around the holidays, to subconsciously assess my life: where I've been, where I'm going, what I'm learning, how I'm serving. And this point in time is pretty interesting. To me at least. ;)

Right now I am in my fourth semester of graduate school for a new career in a healthcare profession. If you've read any of my posts, you know how disappointed I am with my program. But I am learning a lot! And that's important. I also think anything I would've done post-infertility would be disappointing though. However, my program is disappointing for a couple of different reasons. Oh well. That's life.

The good thing is, no matter what (if I quit school, failed out of school, finished school), this time period has been incredible for me. I've had time to move, sell my children's house, get back in the routine of doing something with my life other than fertility treatments and related appointments, and get used to being around people again. I'm thankful for this period of my recovery process.

Last year I was finishing up the first semester of my program. I was extremely anxious and exhausted and stressed and crawling to the finish line.

The year before I had just submitted my application and was waiting to see what would happen after doing nothing for the last five months but prerequisite courses and all of the other things I had to do to apply.

The year before that I was doing my 2nd IUI. Or maybe I had just found out that it didn't work. Maybe I was starting my 3rd IUI. It was definitely before my 2 IVFs... The dates are really all a blur. I just remember giving it everything I had until I reached my breaking point. (Spoiler alert: I never got pregnant.)

The year before that I was trying to get pregnant without medical assistance. The year before that I was doing the same. The year before THAT I was pissed at my husband because I wanted to start trying but he didn't yet, so I was waiting on him.

Whoa. All those years kinda sucked to be honest. There were happy moments and things to be thankful for, but damn, no wonder my spirit died.

Anyway, back to this year. :)  No, wait. Next year.

Next year if all goes as planned (hahahahahaha yeah yeah I said plans, insert eye roll here, because who can ever actually trust plans again), I will be finishing up my program in another state. Wow!

But first... We are going to our storage unit today. That's another thing I'm thankful for. That I've had almost two years to deal with my stuff. Infertility was hard enough. Packing up everything, moving, and selling the home I bought for my children was just as hard. To be able to just dump everything in a storage unit to be dealt with later... It's one of the nicest parts of my whole recovery process. The more time that passes, the easier it is to give or throw away my stuff.

So that's probably what my next post will be about: Facing My Stuff, Part II. Wish me luck!