Two Parts

There are two parts to me who seem to constantly be doing battle in my head. Neither one wins more often than the other. Part of me apparently loves to feel guilty, while the other part of me wants to quit feeling guilty and enjoy life.

Life has just been crazy for me lately what with trying to control my head from being all over the place. I think about so many things that nothing ever gets done right. Actually, all I really think about is one thing: having another baby. And the rest of my life takes a back seat, which makes me feel GUILTY.

In my shrink session a few weeks ago, I was talking about how this whole TTC thing needed to take the back seat. It was becoming too all-consuming and other aspects of my life were suffering because of it. Even my work has been suffering, and noticeably so. My shrink asked how my relationship with my daughter was, and I started to cry as I admitted it wasn't where I wanted it to be.

Don't get me wrong, we have a great relationship. She wants to be with me all of the time. I just feel like I don't spend enough quality time with her. I liked to think that taking her shopping with me was spending time with her, and it is, but it isn't quality time. I'm not 100% focused on her. In fact, I have to remind myself to make eye contact with her and play with her as I peruse the isles so that she isn't just along for the ride. When I get home at night, I need to make more of an effort to sit down and play with her, read to her, go outside with her. It doesn't matter how tired I am at the end of the work day, this child is the most precious thing in my life, and one day she will be grown. I don't want to look back on these days of her life and regret that I was so focused on having another baby that I didn't spend enough quality time with the one I had.

Not only that, but if we do have another baby, her days as an only child are limited. The days where my focus is solely devoted to one child are limited. I need to cherish them and make the most of them. Not tell myself I am too tired to play Legos with her and I will do it tomorrow.

The guilt part of me needs to give way to the content part of me again. I need to take action so I can stop feeling guilty. Stop thinking and start acting.

My shrink recommended I buy a set of toys that I keep set aside for special play time with mom. She told me to buy a basket and gave me some recommendations for toys to put in it, along with reasons for those specific recommendations. She said that I should take just 15 minutes each day to play with those toys however my daughter wanted. I was not allowed to guide the play time, but to take my daughter's lead. I have kind of done that. I haven't bought the special toys, but I have decided that if she comes over and tells me to come on while grabbing my finger, I am to get up and go with her because there is nothing I could be doing that is more important than being with her.

20 years from now, I don't want to be able to relate to the song "Cat's in the Cradle."

Going Back

I called my Shrink today for the first time in months. I haven't seen or talked to her since April. I wasn't sure if I would be able to get back at TTC without having to see her, but I hoped. Not that I don't like her, cause I adore her. I just hoped I was strong enough after everything I had been through to go it on my own.

I find that as I am still slowly easing my way off of the antidepressants, some days are worse than others. Most notably after I drop my dose another 5 mg. I have come to know exactly what to expect and when to expect it when I step down another 5 mg. If my doctor's 6 week plan to get me off the meds had worked, I would have been off them by the middle of September, but as it stands, I am only at half my full dose. It has been so much harder coming off of them than I ever imagined it could be.

I dropped my dose just over a week ago, and I knew then that within 7-10 days, I would start to feel blue for no reason, discontent for no reason, and slightly lethargic. It was like clockwork. Sadly, it happened to coincide with the appearance of AF after a wonky cycle, which makes things really hard for me right now.

Last month I did so great at not getting my hopes up and staying really zen about the whole TTC working or not working. That is, until I spotted at 5dpo and then every other day until AF showed, and then I started freaking out and wondering why the hell my cycle decided to be stupid the second cycle back in the game. My Infertile started screaming and shaking the bars of the cell that has held her captive the last two years. She's scared, and so am I. I don't want her back out. I don't want to relapse into that person. I have no right to relapse into that person. There is a beautiful, perfect little baby girl sleeping soundly on the other side of the wall behind me.

But old habits die hard.

Some things are so ingrained in us through pain that I don't think they will ever go away. They have turned into ugly scars. Even with a lot of work, they will always still be there.

I have been having a hard time since AF showed. I blame a lot of it on the drop in my meds. But I am aching and scared. I want so badly to be pregnant. It seems like everyone else around me is pregnant, even the people who shouldn't be. I'm not talking about they are crack whores who shouldn't be allowed to have children, I'm talking about they have medical issues and were told to wait, but they went ahead anyway. I hate the feelings I have inside when I see that woman. My Infertile wants to hate her, but *I* can't. Still, I can't seem to help the fact that I don't want to be around her, or that I have to force a small and even a nice hello. It.Is.So.Hard.

So last night I went to my husband and told him I wanted to go back to the Shrink. He seemed a little surprised and asked if there was anything he could do. I told him I just feel really off balance right now, and that I don't want to mess up our chances of getting pregnant because I can't relax. Because I am starting to freak out that things are all messed up in there again. Because I can't help wondering if we did fertilize an egg the last two months, but it implanted in my scar tissue and didn't make it, and is that going to happen for the rest of my fertile life, and if so, is there anything I can do about it.

Then I freak out about some bad news I just heard about a college roommate of mine that I won't repeat here because I don't want any of you freaking out, but it freaks me out.

I am just plain freaking myself out, and I can't do that. Not with trying to get pregnant again. FINALLY being able to try for another baby. I have to be able to put all of this anxiety aside, and the bottom line is, once again, this is bigger than me. I can't do it alone. And while I appreciate the love and support of my husband, family, and friends, they can't help me either. They don't truly understand. They can't say the right things. They can't ask the right questions. I don't know if my Shrink can either, but she sure has helped me in the past, and right now, I'm floundering. I'll grab a hold of any life preserver thrown my way that will help me float and swim to shore.

I seriously love this blog. I could never in a million years write these things on my primary blog, and they just flow through my fingers here. I am always able to exactly express how I feel, and it is so soothing.

It is hard to find myself on familiar ground, on this familiar ground. I am trying so hard to let it go, but it has wrapped it's chains around me, and every time I think I'm free, it pulls me back in. I can't wait to sit on that leather couch and let everything flow next week. I really need this.

It's Harder Than I Thought

I realized last night that I really am having a little PTSD now that I am back at TTC. Despite the fact that I have taken away the need to stress about getting pregnant, and the need to do everything in my power to make it happen short of using OPKs and timed intercourse, I am still a little shell shocked. The part of me that I didn't think would come back this time around, absolutely has.

You know how when you've been in the TTC ring for so long, you flinch when you see a pregnant belly, avert your eyes when you go past the maternity section, or want to throw things at the TV every time a pregnancy test commercial comes on? Well, paint a big red dot on the floor, because I'm there. The worst part is, I am really surprised I feel this way.

I am working on getting past these feelings because I don't want to own them anymore. I thought I left them at the door when I got pregnant over 2 years ago now. I honestly did not expect them to resurface, but holy cow, have they ever! It isn't even a conscious thing. It isn't until the thought has been thought that I realize my brain put it out there. Every time it does, I have to sort through it in an attempt to help it on its way and out of my life.

I don't like being the green eyed-monster. I don't like being a bitter infertile. I have no reason to be that person either. I already overcame my infertility and have a beautiful baby girl to show for it. So why then, does it hurt so much to see these things?

I guess it is just like how when that song you danced to at your Junior Prom comes on the radio, you get taken back to that time and place. You remember how you felt that night when this song came on and you looked your date in the eyes and told yourself it was a moment you would never forget. Only this time, the song stinks and it takes me back to a place and time in my life I would rather leave behind.

I know what I need to do right now. I need to move these feelings and use them for something else. They have served their purpose, which is to protect me from heartache. Now they need a new purpose. I haven't figured out what it is yet, but I will work on finding them a new home and soon.

See that! My blog is just as good as seeing a shrink and it doesn't cost me a dime!

Emotional Tornado

The last 36 hours have been a seriously big emotional tornado. As I am new to tornado territory, so I'm not sure how they scale those things (as in Level 4, etc.), but I can tell you, it was a pretty big one. I am probably temporarily in the eye of the storm right now. I am trying to quell it by telling myself there is nothing I can do about any of it right now. I'm having an MRI done this Friday, and then I will have a consult with my new RE, and then my second opinion consult with the May.o RE in April. Until all three of those things are done, I need to just let this go. I can't make a decision until I have all of the information in my hand that the trifecta will provide me.

All of that said, I am once again thankful for my antidepressants. They are the awesomest things in the world. They don't prevent me from feeling during these rough patches, but they help me level out quicker and not sink as far when I do get caught up. Who knew something I fought so hard against would turn out to be such a blessing?

I went to the shrink today, and for the first half of my session I ranted and raved about my situation, how it wasn't fair, why God wasn't helping me, why he was placing his babies in the wombs of crack addicts and abusive people. My shrink talked me down from that ledge as best as she could, and tried to get me back on speaking terms with God. I'm closer to talking to him than I was this morning. I still want to ask him where all of this makes sense though.

The last half of the session was talking through the pros and cons of going forward with a pregnancy. Can I just say I feel like a selfish ass when people cry and tell me they don't want me to go forward with this because they don't want to lose me? My OB's eyes welled up when I told her I was going forward with it, and today my shrink cried when she told me she didn't want me to risk it. I feel so calloused when I look at the tears in their eyes and say this is what I want. I feel horrible when my eyes don't well up too.

For now, just as on my primary blog, I will not talk about any of this again until I get my MRI results back. There is just no point. I need to put all of this on the back burner and live my life right now.

Welcome Back

Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to speak with you again...

Tonight my husband went with me to the shrink. I was bound and determined that this session would be awesome and that we would leave there happier and closer together than when we went in. Ha!

*disclaimer - My husband and I have an awesome marriage. We weren't going for marriage counseling, but rather to seek help on dealing with our current infertility situation.*

During our session I told my shrink that I was afraid that if I didn't go forward with the surgery and getting pregnant again that 10 years down the road my husband would resent me for giving up. I was further afraid that he would resent me because I am the one who doesn't work, not him.

The shrink asked what he thought about that and he said, "I think she doesn't listen to me. Ever." When she asked what he meant by that, he explained that he had already told me he didn't care if we didn't have any more children. That he feels the 40% risk of a rupture is too high for him, and that he thinks those odds are shitty. He said he wouldn't put $10 on those odds, let alone his wife's life. He would rather we not move forward and only have one child than move forward and risk losing me. He said he feels bulldozed by my decision to move forward, and like he doesn't have a say in the matter.

When she asked what I thought about that, I reiterated my fear of him resenting me. I stopped midsentence as a new though occurred to me, and then I began to cry so hard I could barely speak. It was in that moment I realized I wasn't afraid he would resent me, it was that I am afraid I will resent me.

At that moment it was like a grain of sand had fallen on top of a mountain that caused it to come crashing down. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop the deluge of thoughts that went screaming through my head. All I could do was sob to the point I couldn't even take a breath.

If he doesn't want this, then it means I have to come to terms with the fact that I won't have any more children, but I want more children. I want more children so badly. I had finally gotten to the point where I was okay with moving forward, despite the risks, but now here I was facing the death of my dream all over again. Only this time, I realized I am alone in that decision, and that if things don't go well, if the risks come true, my husband will resent me. But I want another child. Just one more. If I don't have one more, then my daughter will be an only child. She won't have anyone to play board games with or play on her playground with her when her friends can't come over. There will be no riding buddy on theme park vacations. There will be no 24/7 friend under her roof.

I failed.

If I don't bring another child into this world for her and her daddy, I failed.

Oh my gosh, I am broken. I really, truly, honest to God am broken.

Who will resent me? I WILL.

I looked at my husband and collected myself enough to tell him what I had just realized. I sobbed as I told him I was sorry for making him the target of my fears. I was sorry for taking this all out on him. I realized he meant what he had been saying all along, just like he meant it when he told me he would be happy if we never had children back when we were trying for our daughter. I always thought he said that to ease my pain, and on some level he did, but he also meant it because all he wants is to be with me.

Wow. I totally did not expect that.

That was about half way into our session, so the next half was spent with me trying to pick up the pieces of my shattered dream all over again. Trying once again to come to terms with the realization that I might be done having children. Looking this ugly monster in the eyes AGAIN. My husband sat quietly by my side.

We came home, and after I had put the baby to bed, I called my parents. My mom answered the phone, so I talked to her about what had happened and how I was feeling, which made me feel horrible because she just underwent reconstructive surgery from a mastectomy and I felt the last thing she needed was my garbage. Luckily she felt the opposite.

She talked me through my feelings. She told me that DH and I need to pray about this, and that I can't discount my urge to try for another baby, but that I also can't discount my husband's feelings. In the end she told me to do the surgery, and then to do some soul searching and praying over the next few months when we aren't allowed to try for a baby anyway. We both wished that she knew what I am supposed to do. She reminded me that three people today told me I need to pray about this.

Three people? you ask.

Yes, the very sweet, thoughtful, and caring Hannah from Life Happens sent this beautiful sign to me and it arrived today, of all days.

(Sorry its so dark, but the flash drowned it out)

Just in case you can't read it, it says, "Blessings come down when prayers go up."

I had no idea how prophetic it would be until after my shrink appointment tonight. Hannah, you truly were inspired. But above that, I am so grateful to you beyond words for this precious gift. You are fighting your own, very tough battle, yet you found it in your heart to send something so sweet to me. I thought about where I would hang it, because I wanted it to be somewhere I would notice it every day. I've decided to hang it on the inside of my front door so I can see it every time I open the door, so that my guests see it every time they leave. I will always think of you when I see it and feel a fondness for you that goes beyond saying. I can't thank you enough, but thank you from the bottom of my heart.

So tonight I am trying to digest a new, but similar bitter pill. It all comes back to the same thing, and it all just plain sucks. It just added another whole new dimension to the suckiness. I just wish I knew what I am supposed to do.

Why Don't the Pieces Fit?

Back before I met my husband, my best friend was a guy. One day we were going out for a hike, and as we were waiting at a stop light to get on the freeway, he told me of a song he had heard on the radio that sang about, "Why don't the pieces fit?" and how he felt that song applied to him. That moment always stuck with me because on that day, we were both in a dark spot, which is why we were going hiking. Today I am reminded of that song.

I didn't have a good day emotionally today, as Jill and Suzanne were witness to before yet another blog post met the graveyard. (Thank you ladies for your very sweet comments. I hope to have the mess cleared up soon. Thank you Jill for telling me about the comment. I went and posted a reply. I didn't realize I could do that until you said something.) As those of you who struggle with depression know, you just never know how you are going to continue handling bad news on any given day. Some days you are okay, and others it feels like the sky is falling. Today my sky was falling.

Today I felt angry. I felt let down. I felt every angry emotion in the book. I went to my shrink appointment, hoping she could help me dig my way out a little bit. Instead, I think it made me fall back into my PTSD, which is fine, because I realize I might need to take two steps back before I can move forward. I went in and tried not to shout that I didn't know why I am back here in this place. Why I didn't think it was fair. I cried. I hurt. I told her I didn't understand. I didn't give her a chance to say much, because today I needed to question everything. I just needed her to listen.

She asked me every question I have asked myself over the last few days, and I gave her all of my answers. I told her I feel like I am constantly trying to dig my way out of a cave, trying to find any little glimmer of hope that I can, but once I explore that glimmer I also have to explore the risks and complications, which push me back to where I started. How the ever living hell did I end up back here? I feel so forsaken. I don't understand, and I don't think I ever will. I am still trying to digest this, and the more real it becomes, the angrier I get.

I am so battered and beaten. I am shocked. I am hurt.

During our session I kept telling her I needed my husband there. I need him to really hear me, and I need for him to express what he feels about all of this. I love the man, but he cannot share emotion to save his life (I blame his mother 100%).

Tonight I called my husband to ask him to stop off at the pharmacy on his way home to get a prescription for our daughter's new case of pink eye (courtesy of daycare and just another spoiler to my day). He could hear by my voice I wasn't doing well. I cried and begged him to please go to the shrink with me next week. I have been asking him since I started going. He finally, finally told me he would go with me. No hesitation, just a very gentle, "Okay." I told him thank you and that I couldn't do this alone. He then told me he would only go once a week. I was shocked, I thought I'd only get a one-time deal out of it. I guess he finally understands where I am and how much I need this from him. I think he also understands that this fight is bigger than us both.

I am just hanging on for the day when I am able to start picking up the pieces and putting my life back together. I am in a holding pattern right now and will be at least until the end of this week when I have my sonohystogram, if not longer, depending on if I need the MRI. I'm not sure if I want to know the answer to the testing. I'm scared.

When will the pieces fit?

This Week's Session

This past week I had planned on going into my Shrink and talking to her about how I am afraid that my being back at TTC could hurt three of my close friends who are also currently trying for babies. Two of them are on the front lines in the battle, with one about to start IVF and the other going to see a specialist this week. I was afraid of getting pregnant again before either of them and that causing them undue pain. But at the same time, my window for having more than one child is very small. I might not be that old, but let's be honest, my body apparently was not meant to house pregnancies.

My next pregnancy is going to be very high risk. Part of me doesn't mind because it will mean lots of ultrasounds, but the logical part of me cares very much because there is a lot at risk and a lot on the line. But the bottom line is that I am willing to take the chance. Building my family is that important to me.

The day of my session, the Munchkin was home sick from daycare with a nasty ear infection and cold. I had called my shrink the week before and moved our session to this week because I was down with a nasty cold and could barely talk the week before. I couldn't move our session on short notice again, not that my shrink would have minded, but I didn't want her to think I was a flake. Instead, I took the Munchkin with me. She is, after all, part of the reason I go. ;)

My Shrink was overjoyed to have the Munchkin there with us. While I had wanted to talk about infertility-related topics, something else came up the day before that needed to be addressed more urgently. As we talked, the Munchkin played quietly around the room with the toys I had brought for her and my car keys. She barely made a fuss at all.

About 10 minutes into our session, my Shrink was beaming at the baby. She then told me how very well adjusted my child is. My daughter loves to smile at people. She is such a happy, sweet little girl. I get comments all of the time on how beautiful and sweet she is. She grabs attention everywhere we go. When I told my Shrink that, she told me that is because I got the help I needed. She could see that my being there and being on the antidepressants was helping my daughter feel secure in her world. She knows that Mama is always there for her, and the fact that she is so happy proves that we have a very tight and trusting bond.

My daughter and I are very close. That is exactly what I want and will always want. I am going to the Shrink and am on antidepressants for her above everything else. If she is going to learn what type of person she will become by watching me, it is so very important for me to take these steps to help her live a very happy, fulfilling life. I didn't go through hell and back to get her only to let her down by not being the mother she needs.

I will always do whatever I have to to ensure that I do what is right by her, no matter the cost to me. I feel that doing right by her also involves giving her siblings. I have three siblings and we are all very close, but I am especially close to my little brother. My Old Friend is an only child, and the difference between being an only child and having siblings is huge. I want my baby to have at least one sibling to grow up with, play with, get in trouble with, explore the world with. I have that, and I want it so badly for her.

The session went great, but my favorite part was my Shrink commenting on my daughter. Hearing those words from her made my day and reaffirmed that everything I'm doing really is benefiting my daughter.

My Phoenix, Part 3

This is the final installment of the session with my shrink that was written about in my two previous posts. If you missed them, feel free to read back over them before embarking on this one, but it is not necessary.

The last thing my shrink and I talked about that day was my battle with infertility. I told her that I was tired of everyone telling me that I needed to let go everything I had been through in the years leading up to my pregnancy. I had been through a lot, not as much as some, but enough. I had done years of treatments and undergone a pretty extensive surgery to finally achieve my dream of motherhood. The experience definitely left me battered and scarred, but I wasn't willing to forget it all happened, which is what everyone kept saying I needed to do. They told me I needed to move on. I told my shrink it made me angry when people said that. When she asked why, I told her it was because of that battle I appreciated the gift I had been given so much more than if I hadn't had to fight so hard for it.

While infertility was hard, and at times it did best me, the experience helped grow and form me into a better person. A more compassionate and appreciative person. Had I not had to go through all of that to get pregnant, I probably would have complained about my pregnancy. I probably would have taken it and my daughter for granted, if I ever got to be a mother. But because I had to fight for my right to motherhood, not one second of my pregnancy or motherhood has gone by where I don't appreciate the gift I have been given. To forget my battle means taking those things for granted, and I am not willing to do that.

That battle made me who I am today. It made me a better mother than I would have been. Additionally, it strengthened my marriage along with all of my other close relationships. I definitely learned who my friends were, and those who were not, were cast off along the way.

If I had to do it all again, I would just because of the appreciation it has given me, and because of the way it brought me closer to my husband, my parents, my siblings, and my true friends. Not only that, but it gave me the opportunity to honestly reach out to other women who were or are going through the same thing. I could tell them I knew where they were because I had been there. I could provide love, support, and a shoulder to cry on because I truly understand. I've been there. I know how hard it is. I know how cruel and unfair it all seems.

The bottom line to me is that I am a better mother. I have infinite amounts of patience for my daughter because in those moments when I begin to feel even the teeniest, tiniest bit frustrated with her, I remember how hard I fought to get her here, and my patience meter is refilled. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for her. I could not possibly love her more. I chalk some of that up to instinct and being a mother, but I chalk a lot of it up to my fight for her.

There was so much good that came out of my battle against infertility. How could I ever want to forget it or let it go? The only people who would say that to me are those who have no idea where I came from to get here, or who don't truly appreciate how much it has shaped me into who I am today. To forget it is to forget myself and my daughter.

My Phoenix, Part 2

This post is continued from the previous one, in which I talk about a session with my shrink where I realized I really am a positive person.

After talking about the end of an old friendship, we next talked about my last dog. I don't remember how she came up or why, but she did. I told my shrink about the day she died, and how heart wrenching it was. She wasn't even 4 years old, and her death was a complete shock brought on by a peach pit and a congenital defect. I had to put her down while she lay on the operating table under anesthesia less than a month after I married my sweetheart. It was a cruel, painful day.

I sat in an exam room by myself after I had kissed her goodbye for the last time and after she had taken her last breath. I sobbed so hard. I can't remember the last time my heart felt so broken. I couldn't believe how that day had gone and that my dog was dead. I couldn't believe I had lost the battle to keep her alive. I loved her so much.

While I waited for my husband and dad to join me, the vet tech brought in a book that went over my options for my dog's remains. I opted for cremation so I could keep her with me always. I was not in a permanent housing situation, so burial was not an option. I had to choose a box for them to put my dog's ashes into, and what I wanted written on it. As I was looking through the selection of boxes, I came across one that had the name, "Sadie" written on it. The first thought that went through my head was that it was what I would name my next dog. But then like most people in the world would, I told myself no, because then I would forever associate that name with that day and my loss.

I got another dog a few months later from the same mom-dog as the one who had died, but the name Sadie didn't fit. It wasn't right. I decided to hold the name until I found the dog it belonged to.

A couple of years later, I was ready to get a second dog. This time the name Sadie fit. But I kept asking myself if I was sure that was the name I wanted to use. I polled people in my life and asked what they thought. Every single one of them told me not to name her that for the same reason I wasn't sure I would do it on the day my dog died. But it felt right. To me, that name meant that my last dog lived on from the moment I saw the name in the book. It meant a little piece of her from that day was in my new living, breathing dog. So against what everyone said, I named my dog Sadie. I haven't regretted my choice to use that name. Not once, not ever. In fact, I paired the name with my old dog's name.

While that day was so heartbreaking and unbearable, I feel like something good came out of it.

When I told my shrink this story, she looked at me with amazement and said that she couldn't believe the level of positivity I had in the situation. She told me I was like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. Life had handed me something very hard to handle, and I turned it into something beautiful and meaningful. I loved hearing her say that.

Next up is my final installment of this session, and it proves to be the best.

My Phoenix, Part 1

My sweet blog friend Noelle asked me to rewrite my post about the session with my shrink in which I realized the Positivity in my Top 5 was true. How could I deny a request from such a dear friend? It does come with a caveat, however; Noelle, you will have to write a post for me in return. The details will be at the end of this post. ;)

During one of my favorite sessions with my shrink, I was trying to work through some issues I still had remaining with an old friend. Unlike most of our sessions, this one morphed through many phases of my life, all of which showed I truly am a positive person at heart, even when it doesn't feel like it.

The first thing we discussed that day was my demised relationship with an old friend of mine. We had been friends for 21 years, but the friendship was extremely toxic. The straw that finally broke the camel's back between us was my battle with infertility. Even though she had experienced infertility first hand, she could not handle the thought of my getting pregnant before her. No matter how much hell I went through. No matter how much money I flushed down the drain trying to be a mother. It was all a competition to her, and one that she had to beat me to the finish line with (in the end she didn't). Needless to say, the friendship ended very bitterly, and I spent the next two years trying to let all of it go.

As I talked through and tried to tackle my current issues in that session, my shrink asked if anything positive had come out of ending the relationship. I looked up at her, smiled, and told her, "Absolutely." I had learned to appreciate my new friends so much more. I learned how to become a better friend. Because that friendship ended, many sprung up in its place, and the new ones made the old one look shallow. There isn't a day or a moment that goes by that I don't thank God for my new friends and for the relationships we have. They are so much deeper, and so much more meaningful. Additionally, my love for them is reciprocated, which is something I never had with the old one.

I now have FOUR best friends, and each one of them knows exactly how I feel about them. They know about the old friend and how it all ended. I tell them all of the time how much I appreciate them and the friendships we have. They all care as much about me as I do them, and they tell me as often as I tell them. I never had that with my old friend. We may have been "friends" for a long time, but we were never friends. Not really. Not like we should have been.

There is no question in my mind that even though I don't like how it ended, it had to be done so that we could both move on to bigger and better friendships.

To prevent this post from being a mile long, I will split this session up into three posts, since there were three major aspects of the appointment. Stay tuned for installment #2!

But before I sign off, I want to ask Noelle to please write a blog post about where she sees her life a year from now. I want you to truly think about it, and go deep down to what your heart tells you it sees. You don't have to write it if you don't want to. You can even send me a comment if you would prefer, or ignore the request all together. My intention here is to get you to see your life as you want it to be. Loads of love sweetie! I am thinking of you constantly!

Going Back

I haven't been in to see my Shrink in a few months, mostly because finances have been really tight, and I just couldn't spare the money. Finances haven't changed, but my situation is changing. As a result, I have resolved to make it work financially, for my mental health.

In just a couple of weeks from now, I will officially be back at TTC. I have a plan in place in my head, but lets be honest, I'm a woman, and as my husband says, prone to being irrational because I am a woman. I am allowed to change my mind on a moment's notice for no reason at all other than I feel like it. We all also know that the best laid plans often go awry.

So while I have an idea on how I want to go about TTC once I get the all clear from my doctor, I know that some of my infertile fears will creep back in along with their good friend, panic. I do have a good jumping off point this time around because I've already been there once before and so have a better idea of what to expect, along with the fact I am on anti-depressants, added to the fact that I now have two IRL friends who are going through infertility right now as well. I had no one before. It was me on my own. If you add all of that to seeing the Shrink, I think I will be in good, stable hands this time. I feel really good about things overall.

That being said, I know that this next time around could also prove disastrous due to some complications that arose after my pregnancy that compounded our problems. I have moderate endometriosis as well as PCOS. I also have a uterine rupture as a battle wound from winning the war against infertility last time.

I know that keeping my feet on the ground is going to be tough, and I know I can't do it alone again. Having the addition of my friends, my Shrink, and my medication should give me a good base this time.

My first appointment back is next week. I am kind of excited to tell her everything that has gone on since I've seen her, and I am ready for her to help me keep my feet on the ground during the next few months.

Don't Tell me To RELAX

When DH and I first met, I was warned about his mother. He did not like her and had not liked her for the majority of his life. He told me many stories about what she was like over the years. My personal favorite was the one about how she had a picture of him at the age of 3, high of her second-hand pot smoke. The picture was taken because she thought it was so funny. That right there should tell you all you need to know about her ability to parent. The best thing she ever did for my sweetie was to dump him at his grandparent's house and run away for 4 years of his life when he turned 2. His grandparents are very fine, upstanding people with high morals and values. They taught him how to be a man.

When DH and I started dating, she was married to his step-dad. In the two and a half months DH and I were engaged she asked for and got a divorce, moved to Mexico to start a business, went bust, moved back home, and started living in a motel. Classy.

I tolerated the woman until after DH and I were married, and then I tried to ignore her the best I could. She lived in the motel for about 6 months and then started to mooch off of friends. She would go "visit" them for as long as they could tolerate her and kick her out. So she went, burning bridges all along the way. She emailed me one day and said that she wanted to come stay with us for two or more weeks. I laughed and told her there was no way in hell. We told her she was welcome for one weekend, and then she had to be on her way to ruining her next friendship. She tried to book her ticket out to our house, and it conveniently spanned the week of our first wedding anniversary.

DH finally put his foot down himself (instead of telling me to tell her off) and told her she absolutely, positively could NOT be around for our first anniversary. She tried to play my sweetness into relenting. I told her absolutely not as well. She said she figured that we would go somewhere for our anniversary and she could stay at our house while we were gone. I informed her we had no plans of going anywhere that weekend, and she was to be gone no later than 24 hours before our anniversary.

It was after our first anniversary that we started undergoing infertility treatments. When she caught wind of this, she began sending me emails explaining why I was having such a hard time. They included subjects like, "Being overweight can cause infertility." I weighed 113 lbs. "Drinking too much can cause infertility." I don't drink, never have. She knows this. "Drinking too much coffee can cause infertility." I don't drink coffee either, never have. She knows this. So yes, her emails were sent to be just plain rude. But then she would turn her puppy eyes to my husband and tell him that I was too sensitive, that she was only trying to help. He told her to back off. He knew better. He had already told her off about similar emails she would constantly send me telling me about all of the soldiers killed in Iraq while my brother was deployed there.

Next, she would IM me and tell me that I needed to relax to get pregnant. Every time she would communicate with me, she would end it with, "Relax!" It started to really chap my damn hide. Then one day we were in town and decided to take her to dinner for her birthday. It was the last time I would see her for a couple of years. Her last words to me that night were, "RELAX!" Finally I had had enough. I told her that relaxing would not solve our infertility, that we were almost positive there was a medical reason, and that her telling me to relax implied that she felt I was so uptight I was preventing myself from ovulating every month. She then told me that she never had any desire to be a grandmother, to which I replied, "Works for me! We'll tell our kids you don't exist."

In the end, it did turn out our reasons for infertility were medical. I had pretty extensive endometriosis as well as PCOS. No amount of relaxing would fix either of those problems. I just want to rub her nose in it for being so ignorant and insensitive. I want her to realize she doesn't know everything, and that her form of "support" is uncalled for.

It would make me feel worse if she only did these things to me, but I recently found out she did them to her sister as well. While her sister was fighting breast cancer and going through chemo, my BIL (Bit**-in-law) sent her emails similar to the ones I received, only about cancer. "Drinking too much alcohol causes cancer." "Being overweight causes cancer." Does being an insensitive waste of a person cause cancer? Because if it does, my BIL ought to go get checked out ASAP.

I realize this post makes me sound angry, but I'm really not anymore. I am still anoid and will be every time I have to see her or communicate with her, but I'm letting the rage go. Now that I am officially seeing a shrink, I am getting all of the bad vibes out and letting them go for good. I don't need to carry this junk anymore. While this woman may, very unfortunately for me, be the grandmother of my daughter, I don't need to carry around her baggage anymore. So this is the end of it.

The Last Two Sessions

So my last two sessions with the shrink have been a big let down. In retrospect, I think I may be setting the bar a little high for what I expect to accomplish each session. I guess its because I walked out of my first two sessions thinking, "I'm cured! Its a miracle!" that every consequent session would be the same. But it is not to be.

At my session last week I discussed my issues with my mother, hoping for tools to help me mend a relationship gone horribly wrong since my youth. In fact, when my dad told my mom I was going to a shrink her response was, "I'm going to get it." You would think she was saying that because she knew she had done some damage over the years, but no, not at all. It was right in line with her Poor, Poor Pitty Me attitude. "I'm going to get it. Everything is going to be my fault. She's going to blame me for everything." That was very disappointing. Expected, but disappointing all the same. It would be nice if the woman could for once acknowledge that our relationship is the way it is because of the way she has treated me over the years.

I don't want to get off on a Mommy Hates Me tangent, so I digress. While the session did yield some interesting thoughts that had never crossed my mind, I did not walk out thinking the world had been set to right. I tried not to let it bother me and told myself that the session was more of giving the shrink some back story so we could get down to the nitty gritty later. I did appreciate when she told me I had a definite emotional wall up against my mother because it was necessary to my survival. The question is, how do I break down the wall now? I got nothing in the way of answers.

Today I wasn't sure what we would talk about because I have been feeling a lot better the last couple of weeks thanks to my spiffy new anti-depressants. They have made me down right giddy to breathe. Everything makes me happy since I started taking them. So I figured we should go back to the infertility issue. The whole reason I was really there in the first place. I want those skeletons out of my closet and I want them gone for good.

I laugh when I think about the session because I walked in in a great mood. I didn't think I would get emotional or that I would cry, but bringing up thoughts and feelings from my treatment days and the thought of having to go through it again made me cry. I expressed all of my fears for the future and why I felt that way. I told her what happened in the past and why it was so traumatic, how it all made me feel. I told her I wanted the tools necessary to combat those feelings and emotions if it took us a while to get pg, if we had to go through treatments again, or God forbid, we get pregnant and lose it. I didn't get what I asked for. Instead, I walked out of the session feeling depressed. For the first time it felt like my happy pills were letting me down. I was down the whole rest of the day to the point that I wondered if I should call my doctor and ask him to increase my dose.

At one point the shrink asked a question that brought such anger into me that it shocked me. I told her that I wanted the tools to be able to cope if I had a miscarriage. I have good reason to think it is a possibility. She then asked me what I would do if I did miscarry. I wonder what expression I had on my face when she asked that. Inside I was thinking, "What the hell do you think I would do?!" My mouth said, "I'd bawl my eyes out for a few freaking weeks!" Yes, I said "freaking."

Like I said, I went in in a great mood and left depressed. Isn't that kind of backwards?

I talked to a friend who has been to see a shrink before and asked her about her experience, if she ever walked out feeling like nothing got resolved and the session was a waste. She replied, "All of the time. That's why I quit going." Yeah, I get that. We talked about it a bit and realized our expectations were probably a little high. You can't have an epiphany every time. Sometimes you go in to give back story to work things out later.

I will give it another month, and if I don't feel we're making progress in those two specific areas, I think I will call it quits. But it does make me wonder if the reason I'm doing so well is the combination of happy pills and therapy.... Hmmm....