It’s a Sick Joke

I was on the phone when it happened.

Gleefully minding my own business.

Not expecting (or anticipating) the kick in the ovaries I was about to get at all.

Which is really how it always happens, isn’t it?

The Devirginator and I were catching up. Retelling the highlights of our weekends to each other, and gossiping about life, love, and the stupidity of others in the same way we always do.

I was tired. Maybe even a little cranky to begin with. And I was just pulling into my condo after the long weekend away. Dreading the laundry and mundane tasks that I knew awaited me as soon as I forced myself up the stairs.

And so, I stalled. I parked by the mailboxes and continued chatting with The Devirginator as I dug out my mail key and trudged towards the row of boxes for what I knew would only be one day worth of bills.

What I found in my mailbox was actually much more soul crushing than that though. And as I pulled it out of the space and felt the wave of recognition rush over me – I allowed a slew of expletives to escape my otherwise lady like mouth.

(OK, who are we kidding – Nobody would ever call me lady like. But still, this was more crass than my usual fare to be sure.)

The Devirginator let out a laugh of anticipation over the hissy fit he knew was surely still to come (having known me for a long time, and knowing full well what words like that are typically building up to), and then he pushed for details. “What happened?”

I let a few more curse words fly.

“Seriously.” He commanded. “What the heck just happened?”

“It’s a sick joke!” I lamented. “Someone has got to be messing with me!”

He pushed, he prodded, and finally; I described what I had just discovered in my mailbox.

Addressed directly to me.

“I sense a blog coming on..." my abundantly helpful friend muttered before stifling his own laughter at my misery.

Because he’s cool like that.

There had been no mistakes. This was not a case of mistaken identity or the mailman putting the package into the wrong box.

No. This kick in the ovaries was meant for me and me alone.

For the last few months I’ve been getting small samples. Marketing materials clearly meant for new moms. I’ve wondered how they got my name. How it was that they devised their lists. But rather than allow it to irk me, I have simply tossed the junk aside. Into the trash where it belongs.

Along with all my hopes and dreams of motherhood.

But this? This was a full on package.

No small samples here. No joking around. No simple marketing material that could be explained away as having been sent to everyone in the neighborhood.

Because I seriously doubt that Similac is just blindly sending out packages like this.

Which is why I’ve determined it must be a sick joke.

Because how else would they get my name? And what would ever make them assume I might need massive samples of baby formula?

I’m half tempted to jump on the “breast is best” bandwagon at this point just to stick it to Similac. Because seriously, those bastards damn near ruined my day.

Which I realize is over-dramatic. And silly. And possibly even a little pathetic.

I mean, what kind of girl allows a piece of what is essentially junk mail to ruin her day?

But it’s just cruel. An evil reminder of what I was meant to have right now. The baby who should be in my arms if everything had instead gone according to plan.

Except that nothing went according to plan at all.

It’s a sick joke.

So will someone please tell me what I do now? How I get off their list and make it abundantly clear to them that blindly sending out packages of baby things to women who may never have that baby they’ve always dreamed of is just wrong?

A flier here and there is one thing. A sample discretely stuffed into an envelope that I can toss without even looking at really isn’t that big a deal.

But this? A package full of coupons and what I imagine is at least a week’s supply of formula? Sent to a woman who is still coping with the fact that she may never have any use at all for the contents of that package?

It’s a sick joke.

And some marketing exec is due a kick in the gonads for thinking it up.

Because hey – fair is fair.

You kick me in the ovaries, I deserve a swift kick to your nuts.

And then maybe we can call it even.

Maybe.

Perfection

I'm home. From a weekend that held what was arguably the most amazing weather I have seen since moving to Alaska.

Every single day. Perfection.

Now of course, I have a million things to do before re-entering the real world tomorrow. But I wanted to leave you all with a few pictures of my adventures while I had the chance.

We drove a few hours out of town before meeting up with some friends at the head of a trail. We then had to pack up everything we had for a 45 minute 4-wheeler trip out to the lake. Past where cars or trucks could otherwise have taken us.

Once we got to the lake, we loaded up the barge that was waiting for us and headed across to the cabin.

There was an outhouse and no running water (a fact which I hadn't quite realized the night before as I packed up all my shower supplies), but I was in heaven. Beautiful views, perfect weather, and a gorgeous lake at our disposal.

Who could ask for more?

We spent the weekend eating, drinking, talking, fishing, laughing, swimming (or more like jumping in and out of the still cold water as fast as possible whilst calling it bathing), and soaking up the sun.

All things that make me a very happy girl. 

I feel like I've been seeing Alaska lately in ways that I never have before.

In ways that in my 3 years of living here - I never even realized were possible.

I thought I loved it here already. I thought I adored this state I call home more than I ever would have believed I could. But I have to admit;

I'm loving it here more and more every single day.

And I can't wait to see what the rest of this summer has in store for me.

Because it's only just beginning...

Homerun

My bags are packed.

A swimsuit has been purchased.

And… My cootchie is on fire.

But if there was a strike out just a few months ago when I tried to go for the bald and beautiful look via an all over wax – this afternoon I managed a homerun.

I asked around. Got recommendations. Made an appointment with someone Mrs. King swore by. And bravely walked into the salon right on time.

OK, that’s a lie. I was on time, but there was nothing brave about my entrance into that salon. In fact, I was sweating bullets as I searched for parking. I was a nervous wreck for the entire hour leading up to the appointment.

All I could think was “This is going to hurt.”

It had been over 3 years since I’ve had any “down there” waxing, and all I could remember was that nothing about this experience was going to be pleasant.

So why was I doing it? Well, for all the same reasons I mentioned that faithful day last December when I just could not catch a break. I hate shaving. I hate hair. That leaves me with very few options as far as I'm concerned.

And also, because it is supposed to be 77 degrees tomorrow. In Alaska. With the sun beating down over Memorial Day weekend.

The weather is going to be in the 70’s.

And I am going to be at a cabin. On a lake. In a bikini.

The entire weekend long if I have any say about it.

So I figured, what the heck? No time like the present to return to my old waxing lifestyle.

Even if it did hurt like no other.

I’m tough though, right? I have endo. I’ve gotten tattoos. I’m a major klutz with a penchant for breaking bones and needing stitches.

I’m tough.

(Courtesy of theinspirationroom.com)

But maybe not tough enough, because I still couldn’t avoid the swear words that flew out of my mouth as the esthetician did her thing.

Down there.

To my private lady bits.

My now sensitive and sore lady bits.

We’re going to call it a homerun though. Because at least I made the appointment. At least I did it. At least I didn’t strike out once this time around.

Besides, I used to be a San Diego girl. We're practically primed for hair removal once the weather starts encroaching upon perfection.

And with that perfect weather weekend, I should probably warn you – I’m going to be out of the loop for the next several days. We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon, and won’t be coming back until Monday. I have no intention of bringing my laptop with me. Pretty sure the boy and friends wouldn't let me get on it even if I tried as long as the sun is out and shining. I’ll get you all an update and pictures once I get home though.

But in the meantime – I hope everyone has an incredible Memorial Day weekend!

I know I for one will be soaking up every ounce of fun, and sun, and perfect Alaskan weather that I can possibly muster.

Just as soon as my nether regions stop feeling quite so bruised and battered that is.

The Sun Is Shining In AK...

Meaning that my overall desire to sit inside in front of my computer is severely diminished.

So sorry!

I'm just getting ready to run out and meet up with the boy, but I wanted to leave you all with some pictures from my epic hike last night with a beautiful friend of mine!

Hopefully it will start raining soon and I'll have the perfect excuse to sit in front of my keyboard and catch up here.

Until then though... I'm outside and loving Alaska!

Seasource Detox Spa Giveaway

That's right, I'm doing my first giveaway.

Want the details? And to know what you have the chance to win?

Well... check it out!

Changing of The Seasons

The sun is out in Anchorage.

Everything is starting to turn green, and the only hint of snow is what’s left at the very top of the mountains.

The seasons are changing, and I am beyond hopeful that we are about to have one incredible summer up here in AK.

I have to admit though, I feel like I’m entering a new season myself. Like the last two years have been this deep, dark, cold winter, and I’m finally stepping back out into the sunshine again for the first time.

Life is treating me good, and I am just so happy to be… happy.

Because the truth is, there was a period there where I wondered if I would ever be happy again. If I would ever even be content again. Where I couldn't help but question whether or not I would always feel lost, and empty, and broken after the cards the last two years had dealt me.

I don't worry about that happening anymore though.

Don’t get me wrong. There are still days when the reality of my infertility hits me like a punch in the gut. Moments when I think about a forever spent never being able to conceive, and I feel like I can’t breathe contemplating that verdict. Pregnant bellies and newborns still have a way of catching me completely and totally off guard when I least expect it.

Some days are just harder than others.

But… I’m coming through the tunnel. Making my way out of the darkness to a place where I can finally see the light again. A place where I can feel the warmth of what may still be to come.

The seasons are changing, and I have to believe that good things are on the horizon. That I’m going to be OK. I’m going to survive. I’m going to thrive.

And one day, I may even be able to look back on all of this and understand exactly why I had to fight through it.

In the meantime though, I’m just enjoying the sunshine.

Taking in the warmth for what it is.

And breathing a little sigh of relief because somewhere deep down inside of me, I just know.

The worst is over.

And the best is still to come.

(she says, while frantically looking around for some wood to knock on)

It’s The End Of The World As We Know It…

And I feel fine!

OK, not really.

I mean, I really do feel fine (besides the cramps and back pain and exhaustion and bloat that is), but… it’s a song.



Not really the end of the world.

Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock though, you’ve heard over the last few days about the crazies who were claiming up and down that today would be the end of the world. That they had biblical proof that this would be the day that would mark the end of times.

Completely bypassing the pieces of scripture that make it clear that none of us will be able to predict when that time is actually going to come:

But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. ~  Matthew 24:36 (NIV)

So touting any kind of biblical proof for such a thing is really just quite silly.

Regardless, everyone I know has been having a bit of fun with the whole concept. Those with and without faith alike have been poking fun at this notion that the end of times could be so easily pinpointed and predicted.

It has to be the devirginator who made me laugh the hardest though.

Which is the story I really should share here.

Or maybe I shouldn’t – but I’m going to anyway.

You see, that dear old friend of mine called me up the other night after doing some research of his own on this very subject.

He informed me rather eloquently (for a man who is not one I would ever normally describe as eloquent) that Saturday (today) would actually be the rapture (not the end of the world), where all good Christians would be whisked away to heaven (note - this was in his words, not mine). Everyone else (so he said) would be staying behind. Living in hell on earth until they were taken away to the actual hell 5 months down the line.

Then he paused and said, dead serious “Which is good if you think about it. Because the way I figure it, I’ve still got a lot of things I want to accomplish before it’s all over. 5 months should just about cut it for me.”

I laughed so hard my guts hurt.

And then I informed him that the next time I see him, I’m making him go to church with me. Because one thing I knew for sure was, today would not be the end of the world.

Which as I told him, meant that we had some time.

There’s still hope for that boy yet.

Maybe.

It’s Normal.

That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.

It’s normal.

Normal girls have this.

Girls who do not have endometriosis have this.

It’s normal.

I started my period today. And it hurts. After feeling pretty freaking fantastic for the last few months… I’m hurting. Nowhere near as badly as I used to hurt on my period, but… it hurts.

Bad enough that my ability to focus is shot and my desire to do anything beyond sit in bed with a heating pad on my gut is pretty much destroyed.

(Courtesy of cosmopolitan.com.au)

It hurts.

I’m trying to remind myself that this is normal though. That normal girls get painful cramps on their periods too. Normal girls bloat and feel like crap and lose all interest in doing anything when they get their monthly visitor. It’s not just me. It’s not just endo.

It’s normal.

I’m normal.

Having a normal period, that just kind of sucks.

Because that’s what periods do. They suck. They make you cramp and bloat and feel icky and unattractive and exhausted within hours of their arrival.

Even when you've had an amazing surgeon perform miracles on you just a few months ago.

Periods still suck.

For everyone.

It’s not just me. It’s not just endo.

It’s normal.

Right?

The “Incident”

That’s what we’re calling it.

The “Incident”.

Because the truth is, I would really prefer not to have to refer to it as The “Fire”. Or any other variation of the sort. Ever.

Of course, that’s what it was. A fire. Flames, and smoke, and alarms.

The whole 9 yards.

All because I wanted a bowl of popcorn.

To be fair – I’ve been making myself stove top popcorn since I was a kid. It is my absolute favorite snack. Always has been. I am popcorn making pro!

And never once, in my entire life, have I ever seen my favorite culinary creation ignite into flames the way it did last night.

I honestly have no idea what happened.

I put the canola oil in the pot and turned up the heat and walked away for no more than 5 minutes. Which is normal. It’s what I do every single time.

Because the oil has to get good and hot before you can add in the kernels.

I swear – I don’t know what went wrong.

But all of a sudden the fire alarms (yes “alarms” – as in, every single one in every single room in this tiny condo of mine) were going off and I walked out of my bedroom to discover this scene:

(Disclaimer – obviously I took this picture after I put out the flames. Although, I do admit to having a brief moment of regret after the fact over not having caught the flames on film.)

I turned the corner, and there were full on flames erupting from the pot. Reaching all the way up to the microwave and cabinets.

I thought for sure I was seconds away from watching my entire house go up in flames.

Yet somehow, I was oddly calm. More confused than anything, because even in the heat of the moment – I was trying to figure out what the heck had just happened.

I knew immediately that I couldn’t put water on it (thank you whatever television show taught me about water and grease fires who knows how long ago), and I remembered the fire extinguishers that the previous owners had left under the sink when they moved out (because the sad truth is – I have never in my life purchased my own fire extinguisher). So I reached under there and pulled the big one out.

Which is when I realized – I had no idea what I was doing. I had never used a fire extinguisher before. I had never even looked at one for any extended period of time.

And there I was, trying to figure out how to use one before the flames consumed my kitchen.

At this point, I was getting nervous too. All the alarms were blaring, and I was convinced that I heard sirens. Positive that my neighbors must have called the fire department. That at any minute, a group of gorgeous fire fighters would be breaking down my door to discover me (once again) looking frazzled and frumpy and... not hot.

Only this time, I would have to explain how it was that I had caused this fire in the first place.

Even though I still wasn't sure myself.

The good news is – it only took a few different attempts to get the extinguisher to work.

The bad news is – I’m pretty sure any idiot should be able to figure out how to use a fire extinguisher on the first try. So, I don't really know what my excuse is.

The even worse news is – do you have any idea how messy fire extinguishers are?

I mean… what the heck is that stuff?

And why do I feel like I would have been better off if I had just let the flames die out on their own?

Needless to say, I spent the next 3 hours cleaning up fire extinguisher mess.

After lighting all the candles in the house that is - because at this point, I was feeling rebellious and ballsy and adamant that my house would not smell like a house fire if I had any say in the matter.

Today though, I got home from work only to realize that I could still see fire extinguisher mess all over my floors.

After mopping 3 times.

I’m not even sure what to do at this point. I’m pretty convinced that I’m going to have fire retardant coating my home for as long as I live here now.

After deploying the extinguisher on my kitchen (and by default, my living room) though, I realized the stupid thing was on empty. And as much as I hate the idea of ever having to do anything that messy again, I am also resigned to the fact that I still have no idea what caused this fire in the first place. And I really don’t want to ever have to face another one like it empty handed.

So… Today I went to the grocery store.

And I asked a clerk to tell me where they kept the fire extinguishers.

I explained that there had been an “incident”. And then I hung my head in shame as she pointed me in the right direction.

Where I purchased a little white kitchen extinguisher.

Which I placed directly under my sink.

Just in case.

Because you never know when there might be another “incident” just like the first.

Family Act of 2011

Disclaimer: The entire content of this post has been copied and pasted from an e-mail sent out by Resolve.org. As someone with a fair amount of debt to her name after a year spent trying and failing, I just thought it was too good not to share:

Family Act of 2011, S 965 introduced in the U.S. Senate

Legislation will remove financial barriers for infertility treatments

RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association applauds Senator Kirsten Gillibrand (NY) for introducing a bill in the U.S. Senate that would provide eligible taxpayers a tax credit for the out-of-pocket expenses incurred with infertility medical treatment.

Appropriately named the “Family Act of 2011,” the bill, S 965, would apply to expenses related to in vitro fertilization and treatments to preserve fertility for cancer patients.

The Bill was introduced just days after RESOLVE’s successful Advocacy Day in Washington, D.C. Advocates from across the country met with their Members of Congress to advocate for the tax credit. Enthusiasm was very strong for the tax credit among the Advocates, who see the need for immediate financial relief for infertility patients.

What YOU can do

Now that it is introduced, S 965 needs co-sponsors in the U.S. Senate. We need EVERYONE who is facing infertility (and their friends and family) to contact their two U.S. Senators.

1. Contact your two Senators right now. It takes 3 minutes through RESOLVE’s Action Alert System. PLEASE review the online letter and personalize it with your story. Personal content is far more impactful than a form letter.

2. Ask your friends and family to send letters too! Forward this link so they can take action today. http://www.resolve.org/taxcredit

3. Share the information about the tax credit on your Blog or Facebook page!


Other important links:

A summary of the legislation

RESOLVE’s Facebook page

Family Act of 2011 on Facebook

I'm Not Sure I'll Ever Understand...

I feel like lately, even as I’ve been finding my way back to my own happy place, I’ve been exposed to a lot of heartbreak.

Not my heartbreak, but the heartbreak of people I care about. People I don’t want to see hurting even a little bit. People who I truly believe deserve better.

So I guess to some extent, it has become my heartbreak. In the sense that my heart has ached watching the amazing people in my life face hurdles that I wish more than anything they never had to face at all.

I told you all about that new friend I had made a few weeks back. The girl who basically could have been me this time last year. An Alaskan girl facing the same disease and the same limited options. Choosing to take infertility head on and pursue IVF instead of wasting her time on the other gambles between here and there.

Over the last few weeks (as this girl and I have become closer) I have found myself becoming more and more hopeful for her cycle as each day has passed. Literally holding my breath in a way that I don’t think I’ve done for anyone else. Wanting those two lines for her more than I’ve wanted for anyone since I realized I would never get two lines of my own.

And today, her cycle was canceled. Just like that – this one is over.

I can’t help it. I’m angry. I don’t understand. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand.

Why does it have to be so hard for some people? Why does the journey to motherhood have to seem so impossible for people who would make such amazing mothers? Why are people who have no business being mothers at all gifted with that blessing without even trying, while there are women and couples out there who would give just about anything for the same chances?

Why is it that today, I can't help but face head on the reality of my situation? My infertility. Even though I've worked so hard to push it to the back of my head and not worry about it. Why is it that today, it's all I can think about?

The fact that I will probably never carry a child.

The fact that someone I care about is likely feeling so much of the pain I felt last year, and there is nothing I can do about it. Nothing I can say. No way at all for me to make it any better for her.

And that simple fact (the helplessness of it all) has me remembering that there is nothing anyone can do to make it better for me either.

My heart is breaking today. Knowing someone I care about is going through what I went through just last year has me angry. And frustrated. And sad in a way I haven’t been in a while.

I just don’t understand.

I’m not sure I ever will.

An Adventure and a Half

I have to admit – I am still absolutely exhausted from my little adventure and a half. I lived out of a bag, spent hardly any time in my own home, and didn’t sleep in a real bed for days.

And days and days and days.

I am a girl who tends to like consistency. I prefer stability and routine to my schedule. So while I’m always down for a little adventure… it usually takes me a few days to readjust once I return to the real world.

Which is where I am now. Adjusting.

I’ve got a lot of pictures from my time spent out in the Alaskan bush, but because I was out there for work – I’m a little hesitant to share too much here about the villages I was visiting. Suffice it to say; it was an experience. One unlike anything else I’ve ever done in my life. And it looks like I’ll be having at least a few more trips like this as the summer progresses. One can only hope that I become more accustomed to being so remote as time goes on. As it stands; I have to admit that I spent my days more than a little fearful that I would somehow hurt myself out there (which let’s face it – wouldn’t exactly be a rare event) and that no one would be able to get me proper medical attention before it was too late.

Before I died.

Because yes – my brain really does work like that.

I do have to say though, some of what I saw out there was just breathtakingly beautiful. I don’t know what I was expecting as I went off on this little adventure of mine, but views like this definitely had me in awe:

When I got back in town, I immediately ran home and jumped into the shower (because it’s fair to say that I was pretty rank by that point), and then went off to meet the boy. We spent Friday night around the campfire at his house with some friends, and then Saturday we threw some bags together and hiked down into a local canyon to camp out by the creek at the bottom.

There is something you should know about me – I haven’t slept in a tent in a very (very) long time.

I remember doing things like this when I was a kid. And then there was the time when I was 15 and my best friend and I snuck out to go camping with our then 18 year old boyfriends (yes we got caught, and yes, I’m pretty sure I’m still grounded). And I think there may have been one trip when I was 18 where we went just outside of town and got so drunk on jagermeister that I’m pretty sure I threw up on myself (meaning – sleeping in a sleeping bag was the least of my worries). But that was it. Anytime I’ve ever gone camping in my life since then – I’ve been in a cabin.

So this really was quite the adventure for me.

Quite the adventure that I clearly wasn’t prepared for – as evidenced by the muddy tennis shoes I left you all with last night.

The sad thing is, good boots were the one thing gear wise that I actually had. I was just a dummy who didn’t think twice about grabbing them out of the car until we were already half-way down the muddy canyon.

Which was really only the beginning. My feet were soaked through by the time we got to the bottom, and I was immediately freezing. Sure, things around Alaska are warming up slowly but surely. But…

There are still plenty of leftover reminders of winter.

And as much as everything is trying to green up:

We just aren't quite there yet. 

Thankfully, I did remember to bring extra socks. And once the boys started up the fire, I stripped off my shoes and set them up near the flames to dry while I propped my stocking feet as near to the heat as possible.

Of course, good shoes weren’t the only thing I forgot to pack. It had been 60+ degrees in town when we had taken off, so I only thought to bring a sweatshirt with me. No jacket at all.

Luckily, the boy had an extra he let me borrow. And a hat too. So the good news is – I didn’t freeze to death.

I just sat there shivering by the fire feeling like an idiot.

When we woke up in the morning (after a night spent so far cocooned inside my sleeping bag I'm not sure I realized there was a world outside of it), I turned to the boy and said only “I suck at this camping thing.”

At least he laughed. So I’m pretty sure my being a complete and total novice didn’t push him too far over the edge.

I did have to listen to everyone telling me several times that I’m going to be needing to take a trip to the local sporting goods store ASAP to get myself some acceptable gear though.

Fair enough.

I think.

The truth is, had I not been freezing the entire time – I would have had a blast. So new gear probably is the way to go, because I do have to admit that I enjoyed everything else about camping.

Besides – I managed to get some pretty fantastic pictures of this state I love while we were out there.

Hiking out of the canyon was quick (15-20 minutes tops), but it was definitely a workout. A little more steep than I had remembered it being on the way in. Between all the mud, my tennis shoes that refused to grip, and the pack on my back – I was a sight to be seen. And while I swore up and down last night that I wasn’t sore, in all honesty – I could barely get in and out of my chair at work today.

Which I think sadly means that I may not be in as great of shape as I would like to believe I am.

But hey – I’ve still got the entire summer to get myself where I want to be.

And I fully intend to take advantage of every ounce of sunshine we get.

I’ll be a full fledged Alaskan girl before you know it.

After all – I’ve been here 3 years now. It’s time to embrace every single adventure this state has to offer.

Even if it means a few nights sleeping somewhere other than in my comfy bed.

Still Alive!

But completely exhausted and swamped with laundry to do, house stuff to take care of, and a group of girl friends who will skin me alive if I don't get my act together and meet them for a movie tonight.

So, while I have more pictures to share of my time spent off the grid, for the time being this one will have to do:

Yep, that's how my camping trip ended this morning. Because someone (I'm not saying who) may have possibly forgotten to pack her hiking boots.

I'm pretty sure the laundry is never going to end.

I'll give you highlights on the rest tomorrow...

Off The Grid

Tomorrow morning, bright and early in the AM, I'm getting on a plane and heading out to a remote village in Alaska.

Remote enough that cell phones and internet are going to be a no go.

36 hours, completely cut off from the rest of the world.

(Courtesy of zazzle.com)

I’ve packed enough food for a week (because I live in very real fear of either starving, or being forced to eat some kind of raw and freshly killed meat), and enough clothes to keep me bundled and warm in the deepest depths of winter.

Even though the weather forecast is predicting temperatures in the 30’s.

I swear, you would think I wasn’t even an Alaskan girl at all.

Except… I’m not an Alaskan girl. Not this Alaskan anyway. When it comes to deep remote treks that lead me completely off the grid – I am a California girl through and through.

The point is, don’t be worried about my disappearing act over the next few days. I’m not dead.

(I hope)

I’m just taking a brief vacation from running water and cable television.

A mini hiatus from communication as a concept.

I’m getting back into Anchorage Friday night, but am planning on fleeing out of town almost as soon as I land for a night or two with the boy.

I’m leaving the laptop behind for good measure at that point.

So don’t worry, I’m still not dead.

(Fingers crossed)

I’m just gallivanting around this great state of mine. Soaking up all the excitement and adventure it has to offer me.

I should be back Sunday.

If I’m not back by Monday though, someone had better call the FBI.

Because by then, chances are I’ve been kidnapped and thrown into my very own Hills Have Eyes nightmare.

And if that happens, I really would appreciate a rescue mission.

Please and thank you.

P.S. According to Blogger, this is post number 666 on this blog. Ominous much?

What I Forgot To Mention…

Sometimes, when sucked into the middle of a heartbreaking mood, it’s easy enough to forget the little blessings that were scattered along the way to the downfall.

What I forgot to mention Sunday (and then again yesterday - after being kidnapped by the boy as soon as work was out, and not having a single opportunity until now to sit myself in front of a keyboard) was that I had a lot of those little blessings over the weekend which really should have outweighed any of the hurtful things said by others in the act of simply not knowing any better.

Isn’t it funny how so often we allow the bad to outweigh the good in our minds, even when the good should be shining through so much brighter?

Because there really were so many kindnesses over the last few days as those who care about me (those who get me) worked hard to ensure I was doing OK throughout what most I think assumed would be a hard day for me even before I realized it myself.

Friends who picked up the phone just to check in.

Those who were extra cautious of my feelings and quick to tell me to stop lying when I repeated seemingly without effort that everything was fine.

And even an offer I never would have thought to expect.

From McDreamy of all people.

McDreamy who called and left a message saying that he wanted to give me a complimentary Rolfing session for Mother’s Day because “If there’s anyone that’s tried harder to be a mother and been foiled, it’s you that deserves a little pat on the back.”

Yeah, that actually happened.

And the two friends who listened to the message with me both wound up with tears in their eyes as it played. Because it was that sweet. And that unexpected.

It was also just a reminder that there are people who get it. Even people who you wouldn’t ever think would get it.

Which is really something I think I needed to work on remembering better Sunday, as I struggled with the people in my life who I worry will never actually get it.

The thing is, sometimes you just need to have a bad day. A day where you wallow, and pout, and hurt over what’s been lost. It doesn’t mean a massive fall is coming, or that all the progress I’ve made is about to come unraveling. It just means I needed a second to hurt. To mourn. To be sad.

A moment. An hour. A day.

Just some time. Without being made to feel like what I was feeling was wrong.

Without being told that I shouldn’t feel it, because someone somewhere has some feeling that good things are coming.

It doesn’t matter what good things may or may not be coming up down the line. Unfortunately, the promise of possible miracles at some point in the theoretical future doesn’t do a whole lot to ease the hurt that I’m feeling now. It just feels like people’s way of discounting that hurt. Of brushing past it. Of ignoring the very real and current events which lay beneath that hurt.

And while I am always understanding of the fact that people mean well and never intend to be callous with their words, sometimes I just wish that those closest to me got it. That they, at the very least, were more careful with their words.

But focusing on that completely ignores the friends and family I have who do get it. The people who come into my life who are able to understand. Without my having to hold their hand or guide them through it. And for that – I really am eternally grateful.

For the people in my life who get that just because Sunday was a bad day, doesn’t mean that I’ve fallen back into an inconsolable depression.

In fact, I spent most of yesterday with a pretty bright smile plastered across my face.

It was a bad day. But that’s all it was. One bad day. I can pretty much guarantee it won’t be the only one I ever have again. There will be more. And some may be worse than others.

But I’m always going to recover.

I’m always going to be OK.

I just need to be allowed to feel what I need to feel for however long it lasts. I need to be allowed to move on in my own time. I need to be given that time, and space, and a little bit of understanding.

Understanding that I, in turn, need to work on extending to those who may never get it.

Because what I forgot to mention, is that I really am lucky enough to be surrounded by so many who do.

Sunday was a bad day.

But there were still a hundred little blessings peppered throughout it.

And at the end of the day, I got through the bad part and was able to come out the other side and enjoy the good that followed.

Because there is always good that follows even the worst of days.

You just have to be willing to see it.

To enjoy it.

And to smile through it.

Being Your Own Advocate

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Not My Day

I’ve been doing so well these last few weeks.

So genuinely happy and excited about this next stage of my life.

This next chapter.

But today. Well, today is not my day.

I feel like I’ve been stung in 1000 different ways today. And none of it is anyone’s fault. It just… it is what it is.

It’s Mother’s Day. And I am not a mother. Not only that, but I do not have a mother.

As such, it’s never been my favorite day. It’s always served more as a reminder of the one person in my life who should be here, and isn’t.

This year though, there is that added sting.

I was reminded this weekend of what I was doing on Mother’s day last year. A film crew in my house chronicling the journey of a single woman who hoped to have a baby in her arms by Mother’s Day next year.

This year.

My house was supposed to be full of baby things right now. The nursery was supposed to be done, and my child was supposed to be in my arms.

My father was supposed to be a grandfather.

Obviously, none of those things have happened.

And it is the first Mother’s Day where I am truly acknowledging how far away my dream of becoming a mother may be.

It stings. More than I had really prepared myself for.

Because I have been doing well. I have been happy. I have been optimistic.

So I wasn’t really expecting this ache today. This emptiness. This overwhelming feeling of loss.

And it started last night. Randomly and unexpectedly. As I listened to one woman assuring another of her worth as a mother by repeating over and over again “You are a great mother! You are their natural born mother! You are all they will ever need!”

Over and over again. “Natural born mother.”

I sat there feeling slapped. But what can you say? When people forget you are in the room and speak the words that would have been on their minds with or without you there; what can you say?

All I could think was about was how I would likely never be a “Natural born mother.” How everyone who learns that about me is always so quick to remind me that I can adopt. That it won’t be any different. That I will still be an amazing mother.

I couldn’t help but wonder what most of them would say or think if they too forgot I was in the room.

Would being a "natural born mother" then be something that they deemed as important?

I want to be celebrating Mother’s Day.

I want to be a mother.

I want a mother in my life who understands me. Who gets me. Who loves me and supports me.

And I want that baby growing beneath my heart. The one I wished and prayed and begged for. The one I know I would love with everything I had.

But today is not my day.

And there’s not a whole lot I can do about that.

I’m just going to have to put my big girl panties on and get through it.

I'm going to have to remind myself that today is not my day...

But that doesn’t mean that tomorrow can’t be.

Ruined

Remember not too long ago when I was telling you about the things my dad has taught my about love?

My dad, who just last May was left by his wife of 17 years.

My dad, who was heartbroken, and crushed, and devastated to see his marriage come to an end.

My dad, who somehow picked himself up and started dating again. Who found himself happiness with a woman who he never would have found otherwise. Happiness with a woman who, in my humble opinion, is way cooler than his ex wife was anyways.

You know… because his ex wife was a pretty horrendous human being.

Well, my dad got down on one knee today.

And his beautiful, intelligent, amazing, warm girlfriend said “yes”.

I knew this was coming. I knew he would be proposing. He’s been talking to me about it for the last month.

At least.

And I of course have encouraged him to take things slow. To give it time. To wait it out.

But… that’s not my dad. He takes big leaps. He falls in love hard. And he wants to keep the people he lets in as close to his heart as humanly possible.

And now my dad (who was so heartbroken just a year ago) is happier than I’ve ever seen him.

(For the record - it has absolutely been acknowledged

already that these two are definitely the couple from Modern Family!)

I sent him a text as soon as I knew he had popped the question that said “Dude! You totally just gave me a new mommy for mother’s day! Which is good… because the first two were defective!”

I am insanely happy for my dad. Insanely happy for this incredible woman he is bringing into our lives.

And insanely happy for this new chapter in our families story.

I’ve got to say though… my father has ruined me. Because my father has taught me that happy endings can come out of even the worst of heartbreaks. And that something amazing really can be found while sifting through the rubble of a broken marriage.

I used to be fairly cynical. I used to think that I knew it all. I used to believe that there was an order to how these things were supposed to go.

But my father has ruined me.

In all the best ways possible.

And I will forever be grateful for having a father to teach me these lessons I otherwise may not ever have learned.

Don't tell him I said so though.

It's best if he just goes on thinking I'm the same cynical girl I was a year ago.

Wouldn't want him getting his hopes up or anything!

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

OK, so maybe it was just the bears.

Lions and tigers in Alaska would probably be a pretty strange sight after all.

But bears? Yes, there were definitely bears.

And there we stood – unarmed, unprotected, and unable to get past the beasts that surely wanted to have us for dinner.

Trapped at the end of a trail, waiting out a mama and her cub(s).

More anxious in the AK wilderness than I have ever been before.

So, how did I find myself in this precarious position?

Well, it all started with that new friendship I mentioned earlier this week.

Which leaves me with no other choice but to conclude that making friends on the internet really is as dangerous as my father once tried to drill into my 13 year old brain.

The truth is though - this girl and I were clearly destined to be friends. Internet or no internet. Because as it turns out, she just so happens to know the boy. Her sister just so happens to be married to his best friend.

Making this officially the smallest town ever.

Because really - what are the odds that two girls in Alaska each combating this disease and pursuing IVF would randomly wind up hanging out with all the same people?

When we discovered this connection (one more amongst a list of ridiculous coincidences when it comes to the boy and I), we decided that the 3 of us girls needed to get together for a hike sometime this week. So last night after Pilates, I drove to meet the two of them on the South side of town. And together with their 3 dogs and her sisters perfect 6 month old son – we all went off on what was meant to be a fairly smooth and simple hike.

And for the most part, it was. We talked, laughed, and gossiped as only new friends can. When we reached the end of the trail, we turned around to take in one of the most beautiful views I’ve seen all year.

One of those views that reminds me how very much I love this town.

Of course, I had left my camera at home. So I'm of no use to you here.

The baby was strapped to his aunties chest, and the dogs were running free as the three of us embarked back down the trail. About 20 feet ahead of us were 3 other women and their 4 dogs. All the dogs had been mingling back and forth with each other, but we hadn’t been paying much attention to them beyond that.

Not until we heard them screaming “BEAR!” and turning around to run that is.

(Courtesy of greennature.com)

Prompting us to also turn around and run… which is probably the stupidest thing you can do, but seriously – what the heck else are you going to do at that point?

Right before I turned and took off into my sprint, I spied the hump of a black bear cresting the hill just past the women in front of us. It could have easily gotten to them (and just as easily to us) if it had set its mind to eating.

We were thisclose to being bear chow as far as I was concerned.

Once we got back up to the end of the trail, we finally turned around. The bear was still where we had initially spied it, and from that vantage point we could see at least one (possibly two) cubs.

They were all still too close for comfort as far as I was concerned, but there was nothing else we could do. We had gone as far as we could go – we were trapped.

And it was there that we waited the bears out. Chatting nervously, and growing colder by the second as the sun began its descent downward.

Bonding in ways that wouldn’t be nearly as possible without a life threatening situation to bring you together.

We all knew better. We knew we should have had bear spray, or guns, or whistles, or something on us to scare away a bear and protect ourselves if they didn’t scare so easily. But out of 6 of us on that trail –not one of us had a thing.

I don’t know what we were thinking when we set out on that hike. After a long winter of hibernation, we must have all simply forgotten that we live in a town that is regularly stalked by bears. That we are merely part of the scenery, and this is their home.

Still, this was the closest encounter I’ve had yet. In my 3 years in Alaska, this was the first time I was actually scared. I think it’s just easy to forget that they’re out there. And that this time of year – they’re hungry.

Eventually the bears moved on, and we had to take the risk of walking past where we had originally spied them. We simply couldn’t wait them out any longer. With the sun setting and the sky getting darker; it was now or never.

So the 6 of us took off down the trail as a group. Slow, steady, loud, and hopeful that we could spook the bears enough with our quantity and noise level to keep them at bay.

I’ll admit – the entire way back to the car I was nervous.

But we made it safe and sound, and as a group we had a few good laughs.

You know, the kind of laughs you can only have in an adrenalin induced haze.

For the first time since moving here (the first time in my life really), I found myself briefly thinking about getting a gun. I intend to spend a lot of time outdoors this summer. More than I ever have before – and I’ve spent a lot of time outdoors the last two summers.

So maybe it’s time? Time for me to get something to have on me in case I’m ever up against a bear who isn’t simply content to hang out in the middle of a trail taunting me.

The problem?

I would want a pretty gun. And I’m 99% positive that if I found myself a pretty gun, it wouldn’t do much in the way of deterring a bear.

And besides, who are we kidding? Most of the time I’m lucky if I’m able to hit my mouth with my fork. Do any of us really think I possess the coordination to hit a bear with a bullet? Before it gets the chance to eat me first?

Probably not.

But can we see me somehow accidentally shooting myself in the foot?

Yep, I can totally see that.

So no gun.

I think it’s for the best.

I’m just going to need to start going out with better armed friends. Friends who carry for me. Friends who know what to do, when every instinct inside of me is simply screaming to run.

Because what happened last night?

Not really an adventure worth repeating.

One of Those Girls

In the last week, there been 3 babies born to people I love.

You got that right – 3.

In a week.

I have gone to hospital bedsides, stayed up late waiting for updates, and ooohed and ahhhed over the photos snapped in those first moments of life.

Yesterday I even had a week old slice of perfection cuddled up in my arms as I shut out the rest of the world – just savoring the peace that comes from snuggling with an infant.

And all the while, I have held it together. I have smiled and congratulated. Sent love and well wishes. Beamed at the new lives that have just now entered the world.

Not once have I broken down.

Until this morning that is. When a co-worker brought in 2 of the tiniest little knitted hats you have ever seen and asked me to hold them while she got a few other things out of her car.

Holding those little itty bitty tiny pieces of fabric, the tears sprung suddenly to my eyes.

And I walked to my office without looking back.

About 15 minutes later, I went to return to her the items she had lovingly brought for a co-worker and friend of ours.

“I stole your baby things.” I stated when I walked into the office and handed the hats back to her. “But at least that’s better than stealing babies.”

We all had a good little chuckle. My humor regarding my infertility amidst the fertility of all those around me had returned. We could go back to our days now as though that blip on the radar of my sanity had never occurred.

I felt briefly like one of those girls though. One of those girls who will forever get weepy at the site of baby sized anything. One of those girls who will always feel that ache, no matter how far she pushes it away.

I don’t want to be one of those girls.

I had an appointment at my lady parts doctors’ office this afternoon for a checkup. On the way there a homeless woman practically walked right in front of my car. I slowed enough to let her pass, and couldn’t help but notice that she was carrying a baby doll. And not one of those fancy schmancy true to life baby doll’s either. No, this was a child’s toy. And she was cradling it in her arms as if it were the real thing. She had likely walked out into the street without paying attention because she was too busy coddling this fake infant to realize where she was or what she was doing.

(Courtesy of mysears.com)

I couldn’t help but think to myself “At least I’m not one of those girls.”

One of those girls who succumbs to delusions and creates false replacements for the children she’ll never actually have.

I really don’t want to be one of those girls.

When I got to the doctor’s office, it suddenly dawned on me how long it had been since I had last walked through those doors. Sometime last year? The end of November maybe? My post-cycle checkup? I had sat there exhausted and beaten down. Tears streaming down my face at random intervals.

I was swollen and puffy. Defeated and destroyed.

Everything about me hurt.

And I have no doubt it showed all over my face.

So here we are, 6 months later, and I walk in 10 pounds lighter with a smile on my face.

After having been in that office at least once every 2 months for the last two years (riding a rollercoaster I would never wish for anyone else to have to get on) I walked in there today 6 months later feeling better than I have since before this entire journey began.

And once again, I have no doubt that it showed all over my face.

The nurses and front desk women surrounded me. All peppering me with questions about my surgery. About how I’m feeling. What I’m doing. How I’ve been spending my life now that I’m not trying to conceive and/or spending my days crippled by endometriosis.

And I remembered how much I loved these women. How good, and kind, and wonderful they have been to me over the last 2 years.

And how grateful I am that I haven’t needed to see any of them at all in such a long time.

On my way out of the office, one of the women I grew to know well during the course of this process just repeated over and over again how “fabulous” I’m looking. How glowing. How happy. How healthy.

And I walked out with an even bigger smile on my face.

Feeling like one of those girls.

One of those girls who survives. Thrives. Perseveres.

One of those girls who got thrown to the ground harder than she ever had been before, and has somehow found a way to pick up the pieces.

Slowly but surely.

Bit by bit.

One of those girls who will likely always feel the sting and pinch and pain of infertility, but who is still growing stronger every day.

Happier.

Healthier.

And more herself with each and every step she takes.

And you know what?

I really do want to be one of those girls.

Isn't It Ironic

I just got in from a run, and have dinner cooking on the stove waiting for my attention, but I needed to share with you all a little piece of irony from my day.

I had acupuncture tonight, and straight after I headed to the grocery store to get a few things. Nothing major, just a quick in and out trip.

As I walked my way to the checkout, I spied a profile I thought I recognized. I couldn’t figure out who he was though.

Until he turned around briefly to look at something and it hit me like a ton of bricks – The Pilot!

There. In the grocery store. Less than 10 feet away from me.

I’m fairly sure my face turned bright red as I ducked past him quickly and planted myself in a checkout line a few rows down. I was 99% sure he hadn't seen me, but just to be safe; I kept my back to where he was, and laughed at myself over the irony.

Because had I run into him a week ago – I would have walked right up and said “hello”. Probably exchanged numbers and set up a date.

Today though? It just felt awkward and weird.

And ironic.

A little too ironic…

Don't you think?

The Ties That Bind

Sometimes I forget.

I forget how small this world is.

And how much smaller it becomes through the simple act of blogging.

When I started writing here, I did it because I knew absolutely no one going through the same thing I was. In my real life, I felt incredibly alone – both in the infertility, and the endometriosis. I knew no one who could relate. No one who would ever truly understand.

And then, I started writing. And these connections formed that I never in a million years imagined. Women reaching out who had walked my same path. Women who understood. Who got it. Who had been there, done that, and survived just fine.

And women who were just starting out even as my road seemed to be coming to an end.

A few months ago, I was contacted by a local girl dealing with endometriosis and infertility. Someone just looking for that connection I had been looking for myself only a year before. Looking for someone who understood, and could hopefully offer up some pieces of advice.

I was able to refer her to Teeny, and gave her the information I had on a local doctor doing cycles for far cheaper than what was being done at Seattle Reproductive Medicine.

A doctor who I unfortunately did not hear about until after my cycles had come to an end.

She and I corresponded back and forth for a while, but it wasn’t until last week that we decided to meet up. With her cycle getting ready to begin, we thought it would be a good idea to take on a hike and get our blood pumping.

We didn’t count on all the snow still collecting along a local favorite for hikers though.

It’s May after all – I had somehow convinced myself that summer was beginning.

As we treacherously pulled ourselves up the side of this mountain (and then as I gracefully had to come all the way back down on my butt), we did a lot of talking. A lot of talking about things neither of us ever gets to talk about much with anyone else.

Sharing information on doctors, and medications. Side effects and IVF protocols. Discussing topics that typically remain out of our day to day lives, as we each try to assimilate into a world that does not revolve around endometriosis and infertility.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the ties that bond. The subjects that can bring two people together who would otherwise be strangers, and give them something to talk about in detail for hours on end.

I found myself wondering why it was that we hadn’t gotten together sooner. The only thing I could come up with was the timing. When she first contacted me, it was shortly after that second failed cycle. I’m not sure I was in the right place to want to find that connection anymore. In fact, I’m fairly convinced that I wanted nothing more to do with this world at all at that point.

But yesterday? It was nice. Nice to be able to be there for someone about to start the journey. Nice to talk to someone dealing with a disease I now know all too well. And nice to interact with someone who simply… got it.

The ties that bind.

I’m pretty sure we all wish we weren’t members of this rotten little club. But if you’ve got to be here, at least it’s nice to know that you’re in such good company. That there are so many incredible women out there who understand. Who get it. And who know all too well what embarking upon this path entails.

I’m thinking of you friend. As you start this round and brave your very first shot. I’m thinking of you.

And crossing everything I’ve got that you turn out to be one of the lucky ones…

Because we could use a fertility win up here in AK.

And besides that; you deserve it!

And Just Like That…

It’s over.

OK, that’s not true. It’s not over, it’s just… Well, to be completely honest – I’m not sure what it is.

But it's not over.

I have made a decision though. Whatever we are, and whatever we are destined to become (be that friends, or something more) – this is not the place for me to dissect that.

It just doesn’t feel right. This guy has enough on his plate. He’s just faced a pretty heavy handed betrayal. He doesn’t need to be confiding in me, only to find out months down the line that I’ve been in turn confiding in all of you. It just isn’t right. This space has always been about me getting out my thoughts/feelings/stresses/worries/fears regarding infertility, dating, and everything else. It has always been about me doing what I need to do. Writing my story with as much detail as I can possibly manage in an attempt to make sense of it all.

But the truth is – I can’t do that here, in this situation. I can’t do it without also exposing him and his story. And I won’t do that.

I have no idea what’s going to happen here. What we’re going to become. How it’s all going to pan out.

And at the end of the day, we very well may end up just as friends and nothing more.

What I do know is that something is happening there. Something that will probably involve a lot of ups and downs and backs and forths between here and it becoming whatever it’s actually meant to become. A roller coaster that under any other circumstances I would want nothing more than to explore here.

Just as I have with every other rollercoaster (infertility, dating, or otherwise) that I've been on in the last 2 years.

But for reasons I can’t even explain, this is different. And I’m making the decision right here and now to keep it private from this point forward. To keep it mine and mine alone.

I have to tell you, there was a point this weekend where I momentarily considered taking this entire blog down. I had this panic where I realized I didn’t want to be sharing every last detail of whatever is about to come. In fact, I didn’t want to be sharing any of the details at all.

I felt protective, and guarded, and completely and totally opposed to having any of this exposed in any way.

Which is something I’m not sure I've ever felt before. I've always been an open book. Always been happy and willing to put it all on paper for the masses. To make my personal life public without even batting an eye.

Suddenly though... I don't feel that way anymore.

And so, my first thought was – the blog has got to go. I can’t allow my life to be such an open book. Not now. Not anymore.

It was one thing when I was exploring the ups and downs of fertility treatments. Or even the in’s and out’s of relationships that I pretty much knew from the beginning weren’t ever going anywhere.

But this? This is different. And it’s not just about me.

Walking away from the blog entirely just felt wrong too though. It didn’t feel like something I could do. Like something I would ever actually want to do.

So instead, I’m taking this piece of my life out of the equation. The dating piece.

And just like that… I’m changing the rules on all of you. Changing what this space is. What it needs to be. And what it may forever become.

I’m taking a piece of my life out, and declaring it private.

Maybe I’ll add it back in at some point. Maybe somewhere down the line, when things feel more secure or sure, or when I've had a chance to explain to him my obsessive need to over-share. Maybe then I’ll take the time to tell the whole story from the beginning.

But right now – it’s just not something I’m comfortable doing.

I want to keep this private.

Whatever “this” may or may not turn out to be.

I want to keep it mine.

At least for now…

And maybe forever.

I Had a Plan...

A plan for how this was going to go.

What we were going to be.

How slow things were going to progress.

We were going to be friends first. I was going to give him time to heal. We were going to get to know each other slowly before jumping into anything crazy.

Yeah, that’s not the plan anymore.

In fact – I think things are about to get a little crazy.

I showed up to the BBQ last night, and every single person there knew who I was. They knew the story of how we had met, and every detail of our conversations up to this point.

His dad went out of his way to introduce himself within 5 minutes of my arrival.

And his mom pulled me aside and sat on the couch talking with me for over an hour.

She told me he looked at my number for 3 days before finally getting the nerve to call me.

One of his buddies pulled me aside, thanked me for putting a smile on his friends face again, and predicted that I was about to become a permanent fixture in their circle of friends.

Everyone was warm, welcoming, genuine, and… so incredibly positive about any future he and I may have.

I’m exhausted. It was a late night, and I still have the smell of campfire in my hair.

I’m crawling into bed for a quick nap, and then I need to take a shower and get ready, because he's taking me to see Water For Elephants tonight.

I no longer think we're going to be just friends.

And all I can think about is that list I burned and put out into the universe on New Year’s Eve.

The same night he and I actually met.

The list that so far, he seems to match to a tee.

His mom kept talking about fate last night. About he and I being fate. Being meant to be.

Loo is convinced he’s the one.

I’m suddenly not so convinced she’s wrong.