Sunday, August 28, 2011

My Family Loves Me

While it has been confirmed that my Heavenly Father loves me, I have also been blown over by the love and support of my wonderful family.
  • My oldest brother Phillip fixed our car for us this summer while we were in Hawaii, fixing the overhead lights and the AC!!!  When asked if I can do something for him, he says, no problem, don't worry about it.
  • My oldest sister Nichole sent me flowers this May when I had my surgery.  She also calls and checks up on me regularly.
  • My older sister Melissa has been the backbone of my support system for the last several years as we have worked together to get pregnant, her with her 6th child and me with my first.  She calls me regularly, lets me cry and vent and express my concerns and frustrations ad nauseum.
  • My older brother Jared recently donated all his Marriott reward points to me for this next unanticipated week in Maryland.
  • My little brother Paul picked me up from the airport and, even after spending the entire summer separated from his adorable wife, he let me crash his alone time with her so I wouldn't have to spend all the time by myself.
  • My mother spent what couldn't have been a fun few days hanging out with me in my hotel room and tried her best to lift my spirits while I seemed to try my best not to let her.
  • My father willingly gave up with wife for me and didn't mind a bit when I ditched her to go home, saying he would gladly drive the hour and a half to go retrieve her.
  • My in-laws graciously let us stay for the summer and donated money to help us make this dream of IVF a reality.
  • My family prays for me, they call me and let me call them.  They let me talk about IVF all I want but also let me hear about their lives so I can escape mine for a while. 
I have wonderful friends who also love and support me and I am grateful for them; but this week I have been overwhelmed by the reminders that my family LOVES ME.

Tender Mercies in IVF

The Lord loves me.  I am filled to overflowing for the miracles and mercies I've experienced in these last few days.

As I have mentioned previously, I am in the midst of my first IVF cycle.  I have been staying in a hotel in the D.C. area while Matthew starts his second and final year of Business School.  At the beginning of the summer, I had a few fellow IVFers tell me how emotional this journey was going to be, but I felt ready and eager to take on the challenge.  This week, I think I came to understand what they meant.  My body was responding to the medication, but not as quickly as I had hoped, I couldn't seem to get any answers or words of encouragement from my DR or the countless other nurses I saw, and I desperately missed my husband.  Even though my mother came up to stay with me for a few days, I still felt myself being pulled down into darkness.  It didn't help that after spending a whole lot of money on this process, I had to fork out an additional $1,400 on even more medication because I was already starting to run low. 

Friday morning, I went to my DR's appointment hopeful to actually see my DR and hear her thoughts on how my body was doing.  She was a dream, encouraging me and even swearing at me to get her point across that while I was slow, my body was working *@!$ beautifully.  She then asked if I had enough drugs to see me through to the middle of next week.  I said I had recently purchased more but still wasn't sure it was going to be enough.  She told me to sit tight and she would see what she could find (when women don't use all their drugs, they often donate them back to the clinic to be used by women like me who don't have insurance coverage).  After she left I said a quick prayer pleading for a miracle.  When my DR came back her arms were loaded with more than enough drugs to cover me.  I wanted to cry.

She then gave me the best news of the whole week.  She didn't need to see me on Saturday and with Huricane Irene threatening the Eastern Seaboard she said that should my hormone be at a reasonable level, she could hold off on seeing me again on Monday morning.  That means almost three whole days free - plenty of time to drive the 3+ hours home to see my husband for the weekend!!!!  I was awash in love and gratitude.  My mother is wonderful and everything a mother should be during such a stressful time, but really, I just wanted my husband.  I have never been so grateful for a hurricane in my life.  So I packed up my stuff, bid my mother adieu and set off to spend a blissful weekend with the love of my life.  I'll have to go back tomorrow morning super early to spend a few more days in D.C., but it was worth every second on the road and every dollar for gas to be HOME.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011


I was in Washington D.C. when the earthquake rumbled through the East Coast on Tuesday.  I have been in the D.C. area since Wednesday when I flew in from Hawaii.  I'm in town, staying at a hotel in Maryland while I complete my IVF cycle.  Monday I hung out mostly in my hotel room, sewing and working and watching endless amounts of TLC, so Tuesday I was ready to get out and see something.  I went to my DR's appointment, took a nap, watched a little more TLC, and finally made it out of my hotel room around 1:00.  I navigated my way through the subway system and onto the Mall to see the National History Museum.  It was a beautiful day, warm but not too humid, the museum was not very crowded and I was excited to get lost in the history and culture of my fair country. 

I got a map, and started in on the first exhibit when the earthquake struck.  I don't recall ever experiencing an earthquake before, and for some reason I naively thought it was part of the exhibit - sort of like the earthquake houses they have at some children's museums, or maybe it's just OMSI.  Either way, it was very surreal.  I looked to my fellow museum goers and they looked equally confused and unsure of what to do next.  Could I continue through the museum, would we be evacuated and then let back in?  We started conversing about the next steps when the alarm lights and horns sounded making it very obvious that we were wanted outside NOW.  So outside to the Mall we went, everyone pulling out their cell phones to check news and call friends. 

I sat on a lovely bench soaking in the sun for a while, but when it became clear they weren't letting us back in that day, I braved the metro, which was mercifully still operating, and went home to my hotel room.  The subway was only running at 15 mph making it a LONG trip home, but I met some very nice women on the way.  So while my foray to the National History Museum was a total bust, my desire for adventure wasn't.  I went and saw and experienced, met very nice people, and forgot about IVF for a few hours - totally successful day.

Saturday, August 13, 2011


1. an earnest desire for some type of achievement or distinction, as power, honor, fame, or wealth, and the willingness to strive for its attainment.
2. the object, state, or result desired or sought after
3. desire for work or activity; energy

For some reason, this word has plagued me for the last while. As a teenager I wanted honor, fame and wealth and had all sorts of willingness to strive for its attainment. I decided early that I was going to be an accountant and quickly determined that I could not be a fulfilled woman without earning my Master's degree. Nor would I feel fulfilled without a successful and lucrative career as a CFO of a public company. These were my goals and if my parents didn't instill anything else, they for sure instilled goal setting as the key to attaining anything worthwhile.

So with my goals set, I enrolled in a university that excelled at Accounting, somehow graduated remotely well, though without a Master's degree (turns out I was wrong about feeling fulfilled without one), and landed a good job in Boston for the largest accounting firm - PwC. Everything seemed to be going well for a few years, until I realized that public accounting wasn't the dream job I had hoped for. I was not the first nor was I the last to come to this conclusion. After this I got a job for a public company, again part of the plan.

But then I married a student. This kind of started the derailment of my life's ambition. Because after that ring was on my finger, I didn't care anymore. That sounds awful and any self-respecting feminist would cringe and shake her fist, but after I married my life's ambition almost immediately shifted to supporting my husband through graduate school and to start a family.

Now five years later, that newest plan has yet to be realized, but even still, I find myself sort of at a loss for anything else. Motherhood, I am certain, will be great but shouldn't I be striving for other goals as well? Matt wants to write books, get a fabulous job, obtain more advanced degrees, open a small book store on the coast of Maine, and . . . When I think of what I want, my mind is a blank.

I know what I have no desire to do, I have no desire to climb Mount Everest, run a marathon, write a novel, be a CFO of a public company, travel the world, or start my own company. Is it okay if my life's ambition can be summed up by something published in 1905 in the Lincoln Sentinel:

"(S)He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children; who has filled (her) niche and accomplished (her) task; who has left the world better than (she) found it, whether by an
improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of earth's beauty or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others and given them the best (she) had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction."

Wednesday, August 10, 2011


Perfection for me was spending the weekend with my husband celebrating 5 years of wedded bliss in Waikiki. Perfection was wandering around the crowded city streets, commenting on how many ABC stores were in a five block radius from our hotel (I think we logged at least 8). Perfection was watching the perfect sunset on the beach while eating frozen yogurt. Or it was waking up to a glorious morning dreaming of all the possibilities for the day, but not really having a plan. Perfection was hiking up Diamond Head without lots of joint pain and getting my not so glamorous picture taken with beautiful HI in the background. Or maybe it was taking a self portrait of my husband and me (we don't take lots of photos - sorry). Perfection was doing whatever we wanted with our weekend so long as we were together.

I am ecstatic to announce that after 5 years I still like my husband and he still likes me. We might even like like each other. Oooh. . . . He is still the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am grateful to call him mine for all of eternity. Happy Anniversary Babes!!