So, how did you tell Nick?

I let Nick sleep the morning I found out I was pregnant. I wanted a little bit of time to process it myself, but I also wanted time to implement my plan to tell Nick.

I had this idea for a LONG time--probably over a year.

Nick and I like to go Geocaching. It's basically a "treasure" hunt,where people hide these caches all over the country, and then put the GPS coordinates on a website for people to find. We have done geocaching all over the place, so I thought it would be fun to make a geocache for Nick to find announcing my pregnancy.

I thought about going to the actual website and registering the cache, so that if Nick decided to get out his phone, he would see it, but I didn't want to run the risk of anyone else finding it first (awkward), and I also didn't want it to show up under my name to tip him off. I figured I would tell him I had been to the geocaching site and looked up some locations (which I did).

After work, I went and hid the cache in the park close to our house, and then I went home and waited for Nick to get home.  When he got home, I asked if he would take the dogs to the park with me. Thankfully, he said yes--I don't know what I would've done if he had said no!

When we got to the park, I told him I had looked up some geocaches, and it said there were 3 in the park. I told him were the two were that were actually registered, and told him about the extra one that I had put there.  Then, he proceeds to get out his phone to check.  GRR!  Noo!!!  He was like, "there are only 2 in this park."  I had to try to play dumb without giving away my secret.  Darn iPhone!!

We had the dogs in a part of the park away from the cache that I had planted because there was another dog there. I had to try to sneakily tell Nick to go to the right part of the park.

He kept arguing with me that there wasn't a cache listed in the location that I was saying. Inside, I was like, "I KNOW, you dork!" Finally, he was arguing so hard with me that I had to tell him that I had PUT one there. I said I had a surprise one for him.

I worried that he knew immediately what it was. But thankfully, he told me later that he didn't realize what it was until he opened it up and saw the letter. He thought it was cookies or something. :)

Finding the cache that would change his life!

Right after I stopped the video, he said, "Well, that will be fun."  So overly emotional, that Nick. :)

We are parents!!

The first day of the rest of your life...

I made an appointment for the doctor today (Tuesday, July 31).

Why?  Because this morning, I took a pregnancy test.

And it was positive.

I thought it was broken. My jaw dropped, and I was completely stunned into silence. It has been negative so many times before!

Taking the test in and of itself was a fluke. I happened to notice that I was on Day 34 of my cycle. Yes, I just happened to notice. This is because typically I print out my chart, and the days are bigger, so when I get to a certain point on the page, I know it's about time to start. But this month, I just copied it from the back of the book, and the boxes are a lot smaller--so I wasn't to that point of my page yet.  Crazy, I know.  But for me to get to day 34 is pretty unusual. It's happened once before, but that was when I was traveling, and my period came on day 36.

I had some pregnancy tests from a while ago, so I decided to take one on a whim. After all, I couldn't be pregnant.

But it's a digital test. And there was no denying what it said.

Then I realized, "these tests can produce a false positive if they're old. How old are these tests?"

I checked the box, and they expired January 2012. So, I said to myself that it explained the false positive. I had some other tests, so I opened a new box (these were NOT expired), and took another one.

These were not digital tests. These were the little blue lines. And that little blue "pregnant" line was as blue as the California sky.

To be honest, my first thought wasn't happiness.  My first thought was that I wish I could tell my mom. This was a moment that she dreamed about, and I wish I could have shared it with her. Then I thought, how am I going to tell Nick?  I went into our bedroom, and just stared at him sleeping.

Does he realize that everything about his world is about to change?  What will his reaction be?  I have had an idea for telling him for a while. It took ALL I had not to wake him up.  But I guess part of me is still so sure that it can't be real!  I'm sitting on it for the day so that I can carry out my plans.

The next thoughts I had were about health. What should I be eating? (food) Should I continue running? (I hope so) Will the Mountain Dew and bologna I ate yesterday cause our kid to sprout two heads? (probably) 

And then I sank to my knees and cried. Cried out of relief and disbelief and guilt (yes, you read that right) and happiness and confusion. It's such a rush of so many different emotions, it's hard to put into words.

So I guess this "Baby Makin' Journey" has officially started!  Stay safe, little poppy seed!

(We're not telling anyone quite yet. Just a few people--like you--so that you can pray. SO much can happen over the first couple of months, and we would like our little poppy seed to grow in my safe haven a little more before telling people.)

"Why haven't you gone to the doctor?"

It's been 2.5 years, and I am still not pregnant.  So why am I not more concerned?

I have been tracking my temperature for 9 months now. I see the trends. I have a higher temperature, and then I have no temperature spike after ovulation.

So why haven't I gone to see a doctor about this? Why haven't I taken steps that people normally take when they want a baby?

The unsatisfactory answer is, "I don't know."

Maybe I am scared.

Maybe I am just forgetful.

Maybe I am weary for the process that could be ahead.

Maybe it is because it is easier to not be a mom here in LA. I'm not the only non-mom.

Maybe because I am completely content with where Nick and I are in our relationship right now, and I know that a baby will completely change that.

In my brain, I know that I should find someplace and call.  In my brain, I think, "tomorrow I will do it". And then tomorrow comes, and I completely forget about it.

Should that even be possible? Shouldn't I be wanting a baby so badly that I think about it every second of the day? It should consume my thoughts, right?

But it doesn't. I really only think about it occasionally. Or when I call friends/family back home.  It is so easy here to get wrapped up in your daily life, and not think about it.

In Ohio, I was much more consumed with having a baby. I would get twinges inside me when I found out other people were pregnant. But here, I don't get that. It's like that ultra-strong desire has waned. I'm not sure what caused that. Is it just because LA is an easier place to live without kids? People focused on their careers, and so needing to have kids is not a high priority? Or has that desire waned because God knew my heart needed a break? And so He made it easier for me to handle this period of infertility?

Again, many questions with no answers. I don't know why this is happening the way that it is. I don't know why I am not motivated. I don't have an answer that will satisfy many people. It's just how it is.

One day I posted on Facebook, "Every day at work, I see one person that makes me wonder why they can make babies and I can't," and I had a lot of supportive and encouraging messages. It's amazing how many people experience difficulty getting pregnant. It's a lot more common than I first imagined.

Tweet of the Day

Every day at work, I see at least one person that makes me wonder why they can procreate and I can't.

Year 3

It has been a while since I have posted.  In this case, no news=bad news.  Still no baby.

But thanks to the book I read, I have a few more answers.

I am asking around with my newfound friends for some recommendations for good OB/GYNs.  I would like to find someone that: 1) is female. 2) is an advocate for natural birth, and doesn't shrug off fertility awareness. 3) promotes proactive breast health (aka will give me a mammogram at age 32).  Nick and I are going to be part of a health network starting in January, which makes me a little nervous about finding a good health practicioner.  I am afraid I am going to be stuck at a doctor I don't trust.

In November, it was 2 years since Nick and I started trying to have a baby.  We are at the start of year 3.  This last year has been very trying, with a lot of stress and life changes.  But that hasn't diminished the desire.  All of the change has helped to quell the cravings a bit--there are days when I am perfectly content with the life that Nick and I are living right now.  But I still have an overwhelming desire to be a mommy.

The problem with moving and making new friends is that I get to deal with all of the questions all over again.  "How long have you been married?  Do you have kids?  Wow--why not?  Aren't you trying?  Don't you want to have kids?  You should try not trying--as soon as you don't try, it will happen."

It was nice in Ohio to have the people closest to me KNOW how hard it has been for me, and to just not ask.  Or, at least to be able to ask in a more...discreet? subtle? kind? tactful way.  People mean well, and so I patiently answer their questions.

My friends Josh and Tami have been patiently waiting for approval in their adoption process for a year now.  They are on the waiting list for a baby boy from Ethiopia, and the adoption process is extremely slow-moving, to put it lightly.  The yearning that they express on their blog so often mirrors the yearning that I feel.  On their one year DTE date (DTE means Dossier To Ethiopia--basically the home stretch), they posted an article that someone had written about what the waiting process was like, and how to support people in it.  Here is a link to the full article, but I really appreciated these sentiments, and I think I'll end today with them.

"Just kind, normal words of encouragement. Not the kind that assume we are one breath away from atheism. Not the kind that attempt to minimize the difficulties and tidy it all up with catchphrases. We don’t actually need for you to fix our wait. We just want you to be our friend and acknowledge that the process is hard and you care about us while we’re hurting. That is GOLD.
"When you say you’re praying for us and our waiting children, and you actually really are, not only does that soothe our troubled souls, but according to Scripture, it activates the heavens. So pray on, dear friends. Pray on. That is always the right thing to say. And please actually do it. We need people to stand in the gap for us when we are too tired and discouraged to keep praying the same words another day."

Fertility Book

So that book that I bought?

Completely eye-opening.

Why did I never know some of this stuff before?  It actually kind of irritates me.

It certainly wasn't covered in the books that my "marital counseling classes" had me read.  In fact, we pretty much skipped the whole sex thing as a whole (which is another story for another day).

But as I am reading it, I feel like I am learning all this stuff for the first time.  And I am a freaking 32-year old.  Grr.

But anyways.

I really feel more empowered.  Learning specifically about how my cycle works.  How you can track your ovulation by your body's natural signs, and know exactly when you ovulate (without having to spend $40/month on ovulation predictor tests).

Of course, with this knowledge also comes some responsibility.

For example, my chart isn't showing things that "normal" charts should be showing.

Which means I need to find a new doctor here, fast.

Now, some of what I am seeing could be a result of travel.  But not all of it.

But now that I am aware of what I should be seeing, it makes it much easier for me to go to the doctor and show HER (NO MORE men gynos) exactly what is going on.  I feel much more empowered about my own body, and what is going on.

Why didn't I read this before???

Family relations

I am writing this here, because I have limited access to this page for just a certain few (hi, btw), so I know the people I am writing about won't be able to read it.  But I have so many thoughts running through my head that I can't get out, and writing it always helps.  This entry might not make much sense.  It is definitely stream-of-consciousness, and I don't think it has a conclusion.

Mom was a planner.  But there were a lot of things that my mom didn't plan on.

Getting cancer.  Getting leukemia.  Dying so quickly.

Those were probably her top 3.

But I am sure that if she could talk to me right now, she'd probably add "Allison estranged from family" as something she didn't plan on, either.

Since the funeral, I have talked to my mom's sister twice, and my grandpa once.  These conversations have been very stilted and formal.  All of the familial bond is broken, and we have resorted to polite pleasantries.

Why?

Because apparently I didn't follow the "rules" that you are supposed to follow when one of your parents is dying.

(wait.  I said to myself that I would try not to be hostile.  So let me rephrase.)

Because I screwed up.

About a week before mom passed away, I posted a picture on my Facebook account.  Everyone knew that my mom didn't have much time left.  But I posted this picture anyway.  I posted it because it was how I wanted to remember my mom and dad.  They didn't always have the easiest time.  And the last few weeks were incredibly hard.  But I love every single thing about the photo.  I didn't see how my mom looked.  I saw how my dad looked at her.  And I knew that it was probably the best way to explain to people exactly what was going on, and how perfectly God was working in our family (within the context of one of the worst situations possible).

I did not anticipate that it was the thing that would finally push me over the "edge" with my mom's dad and sister.

Since my mom's decision to come off of treatments, I was making them very upset.  She was going downhill quickly, and I wasn't doing things the right way.  Nick and I went to Puerto Rico (we were shooting a wedding).  It was an incredibly painful decision to go, but I knew that mom would want me to go, since she had told me that herself.  She was not the same person when I returned--it was amazing how quickly she deteriorated.  I was told by another family member that "I should not have gone" to Puerto Rico.

When I came back, I did what I could when I was at mom and dad's, but I was also working and training for a marathon--both things that mom was very excited about.

The last week, I tried to be as available as possible.  I came after school every night, and stayed late.  My classroom performance certainly suffered, but I was doing what I could.  I will admit, there were a lot of times when I felt very helpless.  The process of watching someone die goes through different waves, some of which are much harder to deal with than others.

I was not there every day for the doctor visits.  I was not there to give her baths and change her clothes.  I was not there when they brought the hospital bed into the kitchen, and when she cried knowing that people would see her in it.  And I have to deal with that every day.  But at the time, I was doing what I felt was the right thing.  My sister had been able to come up for the time I was in PR, and she came up for a long weekend after that, as well.  My mom's best friend, and my dad, and her sister and her dad were there, so I felt like she was in good hands, and I could go work.

Not everyone felt that way.

When I returned from Puerto Rico, mom didn't have much time left (she died a little over a week after I got back), so I wanted to be as involved as possible.  I tried to be proactive, since I hadn't been able to do much before that. Instead of being helpful, I was seen as trying to "take over".

Then I was scolded about the photo.  I had "embarrassed the family".  I knew how my mom felt about her looks, and "she would be so ashamed" that people were seeing her that way.  And I "should apologize to her."

....

Since that night, I have not been able to relate to my aunt and grandpa.   At the funeral, They told Ashley, "You did such a good job with your mom.  Not Allison, but you."
All of what they have said has just reinforced the guilt I feel over having not been there for my mom at the end.  I was there, at her bedside, when she slipped away from this earth.  But it wasn't enough.  I had screwed up too much.  I wasn't there for the daily doctor's visits...


I don't even know where I am going with this.  But I am just SO ANGRY.  I cannot get over what they said to me.  I cannot get past it.  Every time I see them, I feel it again and again.  I didn't do the right things or say the right things.  I might be projecting what I think they are feeling, but I haven't had any communication with them at all, so I don't know if anything has changed.

I saw them both when I went back to Ohio.  I didn't make extra plans to see them, I saw them when I saw the whole family on my last Sunday there.  This is mainly because I don't want to see them.  I don't want to talk about all the things we probably should talk about.  I don't want them to bring up how I failed my mom, or disappointed the family, or them.  I don't want them to ask how many times I have been to mom's gravesite (because I haven't been at all).  I don't want them to bring up the picture.

I don't want to do any of it because of the open wound that still exists.  I now take everything they say, and run it through some crazy filter.  Like they are attacking me all the time, or making pointed remarks.  My grandpa was holding my cousin's baby, and when I went up to say hi to them, the baby turned his head.  My grandpa said, "Yeah, I'd turn away from her, too."  And I automatically run that through this they-hate-me-still filter, and it just makes me angry.

It's like the process of watching my mom die is this open wound.  And the feelings of my aunt and my grandpa are lemon juice that was poured on top.  And after it all was over, I put a band-aid on top so I couldn't see the wound.  But putting a band-aid on it didn't help--it just means it hasn't healed.  And every time I see them, or think about them, the band-aid is taken off and lemon juice is poured over it again.

I can deal with my mom dying.  I can deal with moving.  I can deal with not having a baby yet.  I can deal with not having any friends.  I can deal with some of my family being mad at me.  But not all of them at the same time.  I can't deal with that.

Which is why there is still lemon juice.