Beginnings and Endings

Dear Readers,

This has been a rough year.  It began with my one-year-old healing from open heart surgery and us learning how to function giving her meds six times a day.  It continued with a miscarriage, a second failed FET, two trips to the ER while out of state, and a stomach bug that made Lil' Bit quit taking her heart meds for several days.  Needless to say, I am ready for this year to be over.  In fact, I don't remember ever being so ready for a year to end.

On the plus side, this year saw Lil' Bit have her first birthday party not in a hospital, and we finally got her off the sinus infection/antibiotic treadmill.  I also got to see my brother and his family for the first time in a year-and-a-half, and Lil' Bit got to play with her cousin.

Sadly, the year ahead starts with major outpatient surgery for me.  Not exactly something to make me want to run into the new year with open arms.  But--January is also the start of our next FET.  Shots begin again on the 18th!  I'm excited and hopeful, and yet, some piece of me feels it's folly.  After all, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  Nevertheless, we try again because, in truth, it's not the same thing every time.  Besides, my heart simply cannot take anymore pregnancy announcements.  For cripes sake Kim Kardashian and Kanye West are having a kid!  I want it to be my turn.  Need it to be my turn.  I want to crawl out of this emotional black hole triumphant and expectant.  Hopefully, 2013 is my year.

But, regardless of whether I end up with anther child, it will be my last year of fertility treatments.  We only have enough embryos for two tries, and I'm too old (and, quite honestly, unwilling) to do another fresh cycle.  So, if the February FET isn't successful, my plan is to turn around and do the last one and be done.  Then, I can close the chapter on this part of my life, get my surgery, and get on with raising Lil' Bit and whomever else shows up.

So, regardless of outcome, 2013 is going to be a big year for me.  I'm hopeful for a great year, but I will settle for one that's better than 2012.  For now, I will savor the last day of this year and all the hopes for the year ahead.  And, if you want, you can join me in the new year on my next trip down the rabbit hole.  18 days and counting!

To Share or Not to Share; That is the Question

Having waited, talked, prayed, and listened, the long and short of it is, we paid our deposit and we're on the calendar for another FET in February.  Given the general timing of things, it looks like we're probably talking mid-February, which means making sure to miss Ash Wednesday since it falls nice and early on the 13th this coming year.  Other than that, I'm trying to do my best not to calculate or plan anything and just go with the flow.

I'm also trying to let 2013 be a new year, with new hopes and dreams; trying to leave my fears and disappointments from the failed FETs behind.  But, it's hard not to think about Oliver, since he was a February FET, too.  In fact, because of that, I was pretty conflicted about doing another February FET.  However, the plan was to follow the guidance we received, and that guidance said February.  So, emotional conflict or not, February it is, with shots starting sometime next month.

With that said, I don't know yet how much of the process I'll blog.  I'm just not sure what there is to say that I haven't already said.  I've already documented all the conflict, the excitement, the great roller coaster of hormones and emotions, the hope of success, the fear of failure.  I've already learned I'm tough enough to do this.  I already know how hard it is and how wonderful it is to have support.  I've already explored success, loss, and complete failure.  What I haven't explored yet is privacy.  I'm wondering what it's like to keep more of the process intimate and personal and not share as much.

In that vein, I'm interested in your thoughts, dear readers.  Do you want to come along again, or are you just as happy waiting for the big reveal?  Although I write for myself, I have been told that others have found my blog helpful.  So, tell me, is it helpful getting the day-to-day stuff, even if some of it is repetitive?  What do you find interesting?  What do you want to hear about?

In any event, for now, I'm still sharing.  And what we have to share is this:  We're trying again in February.  Here goes everything.

Another City, Another ER

We went to Indianapolis for Thanksgiving this year.  Up until Saturday, it was a wonderful visit.  Lil' Bit was amazingly well-behaved, food and family were great, and we all had fun.  Saturday, just before noon, we packed up and headed back to Michigan.  We weren't even 15 minutes around the beltway when Lil' Bit suddenly began projectile vomiting.  Worse, we had just passed an exit and had to drive another few miles before we could pull off and check on her.  By the time we were able to stop, it was a major issue.  We turned around and headed back to my sister's house where we cleaned her up and cleaned the car seat and waited to see if she got better.  She didn't.  Around 2, we ended up taking her to the Peyton Manning Children's Hospital.  They did a good job.  After some meds and IV fluid, 6 hours later, we were headed back to my sister's house to spend the night.  We headed out bright and early this morning because we had no meds for Lil' Bit (I had only brought enough through yesterday).  We got back and then we had problems getting meds.  We had to force her to take them, which made her barf, which made her less likely to take them.  And, thus began a vicious cycle.  She fought the meds this evening, and there were plenty of tears on all sides, but we did finally get them all in.

Lessons learned:

1) Always carry anti-nausea meds for Lil' Bit.
2) Always bring a few more days' worth of meds than planned when traveling.
3) Make sure I know where the ERs are when traveling because I never know when I'll need one.
4) We're pretty good parents who have managed to keep our cool (relatively speaking) in some serious situations.

Dear Doodlebug - Second Birthday Milestones

Dear Doodlebug,

Happy Birthday!  We celebrated your birthday this past weekend because it was when we could get family and friends together.  We got you the cutest doodlebug cake and you had fun pushing the ladybugs into the fondant.  Everyone had a great time and you did amazing!  There was no meltdown, you played with your new toys, you shared your cake, and you were totally adorable the whole time.

Today, you started to ride forward-facing in the car.  I loved the look of joy and excitement when you saw the car seat turned around.  It's fun to see your little face grinning back at me in the rear-view mirror.  I can't believe how big you are--99.05 percentile for height and 70 percentile for weight.  You are definitely don't fit the description of a cardiac patient!

You've been a little slow to speak because of all your ear infections, but you counted to three this weekend, did "a b c" at the party, and can correctly identify o, b, n, and r.  You hold crayons properly and draw circles and lines and, even though you color well outside the lines, it's clear when you are trying to color small parts, like just a nose or the wheel of a car.  Your motor skills are crazy!  You can already put on your socks and pants by yourself, stack a tower of blocks 9 high, and match puzzle pieces.  You can find pairs of memory cards, even when the images are mostly covered, and you can find anything Elmo faster than I can blink.

You love to dance and boogie and seem to enjoy lots of different kinds of music.  You like to help choose what you wear and have very fierce opinions about lots of things.  You are sometimes very protective of your stuff, and other times you share even your most precious items without batting an eye.  You love books, babies, blocks, and balls.  You love hammering on a tool bench and changing a baby equally.  You are fearless about most everything, except dogs.  You love jumping, flipping and, when you're in the mood, bath time.  You love to help wipe up spills, close the dishwasher, open the refrigerator, and give the kitties treats.

You are a true delight and I am so blessed that you are my baby.  It's been a year full of ups and downs.  I know there are going to be a great many more surprises in the years ahead, but I am looking forward to all of them.  Before I go, I want to tell you a few things that will always be true:  You are amazing, beautiful, smart, and perfect just the way you are, and I am proud of you.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Doodlebug

Back in February, when I was pregnant with Oliver, I started writing "Dear Baby" letters to him.  Although I stopped writing them after my miscarriage, it has occurred to me several times since then that I still have a baby to whom I can write letters.  And so, this post begins letters to my daughter, which I have decided to call "Dear Doodlebug."

Dear Doodlebug,

As I write this, you are almost two years old.  Although we knew you would dramatically alter our lives, we really had no idea how much.  This time last year we were preparing ourselves to take you in for open-heart surgery.  We were definitely not expecting that.  Thankfully, everything went well and I am excitedly planning your birthday party.  Although you probably won't ever remember it, it means so much to me because it is your first birthday not in a hospital. Truly something to celebrate!

You like to throw us curve balls a lot.  You also like to throw tantrums a lot.  You are strong-willed and independent and have been most, if not all, of your life.  I find it's getting harder to look at that pouty lower lip and not just grin back at you because you look so darn cute.  I am, however, pleased that you are learning how to throw your arms around in frustration without hitting anyone.  When you get more verbal, I will try to teach you better ways to deal with your anger and to calm yourself down.

Just so you know, I wasn't very good at this either.  In this respect, you are a mini-me.  I threw some great tantrums in my day.  Luckily, I finally grew out of them, but I know I gave your grandparents a run for their money.  Your Grandma was very good at rubbing my back while I yelled myself out.  It was the only thing that worked.  Your daddy and I have used that trick with you a lot--especially when you were younger and more amenable to being snuggled.  But you laughter, smiles, giggles, and full-tilt running hugs more than make up for the tantrums.  You are amazing and wonderful and complicated.  And you are perfect just the way you are.  We love the you that you were, the you that you are, and the you that you are becoming.  We feel privileged that you picked us to be your parents and we'll do our best not to screw you up too badly.

Love,
Mommy

A Glimpse at the Possible

This week we took Lil' Bit in for her routine echo-cardiogram.  The doctor was generally pleased with her growth and development.   The echo looked good--said her heart was very photogenic!  Her pressures are still roughly the same they have been for the past year.  It's frustrating that they have not gone down, but it's excellent that they haven't gone up.  In addition, the secondary characteristics they look at to see if anything is amiss all looked good as well.  Dr. S even downgraded her severity from "moderate" to "mild-to-moderate."  Not much, but we'll take it.  She'll go back in March for another echo and then he'll decide when to do a heart cath.  Depending on the results of the heart cath, they'll decide if they can start to ween her off the meds to see whether she can maintain her pressures with fewer meds.  Wouldn't that be nice!  Dr. S. also said we could expect her to have a pretty normal childhood.  That was wonderful news and we left feeling pretty good.

But the best part of the week was the surprise call we got on Friday from Dr. S.  He had spoken with Dr. T, who had done Lil' Bit's heart cath and who had several other patients also missing a pulmonary artery.  There was one woman they had been following for a while who was now 33.  She had both an absent left pulmonary artery and a VSD, making her comparison to Lil' Bit pretty close.  She also had some other issues Lil' Bit doesn't have for which she had needed surgery, but in terms of problems from the VSD repair and absent pulmonary artery, she had had none.  And the best part--she currently has an 8-month-old baby!  Although we had previously been hopeful for her future when we heard of a very active and athletic 13-year-old who had a missing pulmonary artery, to find out that, at this point, nothing is off the table for Lil' Bit's future is huge.  Getting this glimpse at the possible makes it so much easier to keep trudging through the complicated med schedule every day.  Lil' Bit is an amazing kid.  And, if she wants, she may get the chance to be an amazing mom.  Yes, it probably sounds crazy to be worrying and thinking about that for a kid who isn't quite two.  But to me, it puts her one step closer to normal; one step closer to being able to do anything she wants.  To me, it means the world.

A Message From Elmo

As Phil and I sat with our grief and sadness and worked through our decision not to try again, we realized that we had been somewhat naive to think that we could make the decision ahead of time.  There is simply no way to make a decision of this magnitude beforehand.  In thinking about it, I realized that I had made at least two errors in my calculation.

1) In the back of my mind, I was certain it was going to work, so making the "we get what we get and we don't pitch a fit" agreement was easy because I assumed I would get what I wanted;

2) To the extent that I knew that it might not work, making the decision ahead of time was going to keep me from feeling grief (Ha!).  I wouldn't have to sift through the grief to figure out where I was--I had already done it ahead of time.

We talked back and forth and finally reached a point where we were both in agreement that we were willing to reconsider our decision.  We might still stick with it, but we could change our minds.  In this vein, we went to doctor's appointments with both the fertility doctor and my obgyn to get all of the facts on moving forward and stopping.  Then, we sat down to digest the information.  This was exceedingly hard for me.  At one point, I realized I didn't really care which decision we made, we just needed to make one so I could move forward.  Of course, this is a bad way to make a decision, but I am someone who loves certainty and planning and making a decision was the only way to get that--or at least the illusion of that.  See, our decision comes down to "no" and "maybe."  There is no "yes" option.  I hate that, but my hate doesn't change the fact that those are my only options.  I came to the conclusion that I wasn't ready to give up.  Yes, I hate the roller coaster.  Yes, I hate the uncertainty.  But, I truly believe I am meant to have another child and the only way to achieve that is to try again.

As I was coming to terms with whether I was willing to change my mind, Phil and I became aware of some hints we were receiving.  They weren't necessarily the universe telling us what to do, but the fact that they made us wonder meant that we had more thinking to do.  The two biggest of these gentle nudges came in the form of a television show and some laundry.

The evening after we met with the fertility doctor to talk about what another round would entail versus what was necessary to donate the remaining embryos, we were watching Elmo with Lil' Bit.  Sesame Street has started a new line of Elmo shows called "Elmo the Musical."  This particular episode--a new one--was called Circus the Musical.  In it, Elmo is "a monster with a dream."  He keeps trying to find a way to join the circus, but is thwarted by his inability to fill in for any of the missing acts.  He ends up having a discussion with a chicken, who tell him he needs to do what she does, "Just keep cluckin'."  Essentially, try and try until you achieve your dream.  Phil looks over at me and says, "Did Elmo just tell us to try again?!"  We laughed it off, but it did make both of us think.

Then, today, Oliver's original due date, we were scheduled to meet with my obgyn.  Phil picked me up and, on the way to her office, he told me a story.  He had recently gotten in the habit of washing his clothes and leaving various pins attached to this shirts.  One particular pin was a comma--a symbol in the United Church of Christ of the quote by Gracie Allen which it has adopted as it's own motto: Never place a period where God has placed a comma.  Phil began to wonder if, by stopping, we were placing a period where God had placed a comma.  I made a really bad joke about us placing a period after God had placed a "period," but it made us think more about it.

After the doctor visit, we went out to lunch to process.  We both reached the same place, but we kept tiptoeing around it in case the other one wasn't there.  We didn't want to impinge on the decision-making process of the other.  Ultimately, we both agreed that we felt led to try again.  We made no decisions about what would happen after another attempt.  Those decisions would have to wait until then.  We could only decide what we were going to do right now, and we both felt that we needed to try.

Now, you can probabaly guess that, once we had made a decision, I was ready to charge down the path.  But, I didn't.  I am reining myself in on the planning.  Why?  Because I ignored this nagging feeling I had last time that the timing was off.  I had planned it and this was perfect timing, my gut be damned.  So, this time, I want to go with the flow.  I want us to take our time and figure out how we'll finance another round.  I want us to wait and call when we're ready and see when the next available cycle is.  Now, once I have a month, I will calculate everything within an inch of its life as I always do.  But, until that point, I want to allow for more flexibility in recognition of the fact that God's time isn't necessarily my time.

So, to sum up this really long post in a few sentences--we're trying again, but we don't know when.  We are extremely grateful for all the love, support, and prayers we have received since all this began and hope you'll be so kind as to share it with us again as we make our way back to the amusement park for another ride on the roller coaster.

An Addiction to Hope

It's been a rough week for me as, every other day, I have learned of another friend, relative, or co-worker who is in their first trimester of pregnancy.  And, although it may not be my first thought, I am truly happy for them.  Knowing first hand how horrible infertility is, I don't wish it on anyone.  Still, hearing the news when I am still raw and not yet through this month of loss (next week would have been my due date with Oliver), I just get angry at the unfairness of it all. I also get cranky because I hate being told no.  I am one of those people who will stubborn my way through to anything I *really* want and being told "no" only makes me work that much harder.  All of which helps explain why, late last night, I was reconsidering our decision to stop IVF.

Now, please understand, cognitively, I have no desire to try again.  I hate the shots and the roller coaster and the waiting.  I hate not being able to plan vacations or use leave time in case I need it for maternity leave.  I get anxious at the idea of having to be pregnant while Lil' Bit goes in for another heart catheterization next spring.  But, being bombarded with all these pregnancies, on top of viscerally feeling the loss of Oliver, and, at least emotionally, all I want is another child.

Finding myself confused about holding both of these diametrically opposed positions, I consulted my "IVF Bible"--The Infertility Survival Handbook by Elizabeth Swire Falker [I highly recommend it for anyone suffering with infertility!].  In it, there is a chapter on how to know when to stop, and she points out that fertility treatments are addictive:  "[R]eproductive technology offers perpetual hope of having a child.  It's almost impossible to walk away from that."  And she's exactly right.  You are forever asking yourself if the next time would be the time that worked.  In addition, there are stories of women who have undergone six or more fresh IVF cycles, and however many attendant FET cycles, before achieving their goal.  It's quite easy, especially for those of us who want to push through and do whatever it takes to get what we want, to slip into a never-ending cycle of treatments.

As I tried to explain all of this to Phil this morning--not because I necessarily want to renegotiate our agreement, but because I wanted to communicate with him where I was (after all, he doesn't know unless I tell him!)--I realized that I was stuck.  I am having a difficult time releasing the energy I have invested in having another child.  However, I am fairly certain that once I have my hysterectomy, I will be able to let go.  There are no more one-in-a-million shots at a miracle child.  There is no more possibility of changing our minds and trying one more round.  I will be physically incapable of achieving pregnancy.  Period.  Then, and only then, will I be able to let go of the energy I have invested in having another child.  Until that point, I am, for better or worse, irrevocably addicted to hope.  And nothing, not our agreement, not poverty, not my infertility, not even common sense, will stop me from hoping against hope that something will change and pregnancy will come.  Which, unfortunately, also means that my real healing may not begin until then.  Instead, every month, until I am proven wrong, I continue to have unreasonable hope that I could be pregnant.  Is it rational?  No, but addictions never are.  And, it appears that nothing short of impossibility will fix it.  Until that time, I still have it within my power to try and to hope against all hope.  And, as long as there is something within my power that I can do, I can't give up.  That's just my nature.  It doesn't mean I'm not going to try to to heal until that happens.  But, at the same time, I have to be honest with myself.  So, this is me, being honest about where I am; about being stuck; about being addicted--to hope.

Moving Through Grief

We generally talk about there being five stages of grief:  denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  I have long known that there is no schedule for grieving and that people do not go through the same stage,s at the same time, in the same order.  What I never realized, until this week, is that one doesn't necessary "do" one stage and then do another, and acceptance doesn't only show up at the end.  And, it turns out, I cannot control when I go through or complete these stages.  [You're shocked; I can just tell.]

Anyway, here's a little look into my first week of grieving to explain what I mean:

Monday, when we first got the news, I started in acceptance.  I had known the negative result was likely.  Yes, I had held out some hope, but when the expected news came, I was at peace with it.  Mostly.  Sad to be sure, but I was somewhat prepared.  I was going to be okay.

On Tuesday, I experienced some depression, but I also did some bargaining.  "If you just let the beta results be different Wednesday, I'll do x..."  I also started trying to figure out what I had done wrong.  Maybe I hadn't followed the instructions just right.  Maybe I had picked up doodlebug too soon.  It felt like it was all my fault.

Wednesday's confirmation of the negative results brought acceptance again, but also anger.  I felt like I did when we were first trying to conceive and again when we got our infertility diagnosis.  Life was unfair.  Why did crack addicts have an easier time conceiving than I did?  It made no sense and I was feeling pretty ticked off.  Because having someone to yell at can make me feel better, being able to rant at the world in general turned out to be quite soothing in a backwards sort of way.

Thursday brought denial.  Maybe it didn't happen because we're supposed to have a "miracle" child.  I know chances are close to zero, but what the heck, right?  It could happen.  We just picked the wrong month to do the procedure.  Had we picked a different month, it would have worked.  Thursday also brought more acceptance.  I finally went back to work and was able to talk openly with people about everything without having a meltdown and bursting into tears at every turn.

By Friday, I was sure I had it handled.  Everything was under control.  I was calm and cool talking with people about it.  I was still sad, and still mourning the loss of the plans I had made for the baby I was sure was coming.  But, overall, I had accepted that this was how things were and had made great strides moving forward.
Saturday, I was too busy with a sick child to think much of anything, except, "Oh my goodness!  I am soo glad we're not having another one.  Could you imagine having to be in the urgent care; cleaning up the barf; staying up all night to hold her so she can sleep without coughing; etc., etc., etc. with a baby in addition?!"

Today, I headed into church.  I was not prepared for the overwhelming sadness and sorrow that hit me.  I had a meltdown of massive proportions, and it was a very visceral reminder that, just when you think you are healed, things can catch you by surprise and you can feel like you haven't grieved at all.  I was left raw and exposed when I didn't expect to be.  one walks to the front, takes bread, dips it into the juice, and takes the elements together.  It was World Communion Sunday and we took communion through intinction--where every.  I almost didn't go.  I was crying and I really didn't feel like parading my grief in front of the entire congregation.  But, it occurred to me that, really, there was never a more appropriate time to take communion than when I was feeling the most broken.  So I went.  Still, it was extremely difficult to allow that many people to see me that hurt.  Just thinking about it while moving forward in line made me cry harder.  I tried not to look at Phil, since he was in the middle of guiding worship, but that only made me more upset.  He exercised his pastor's privilege and moved to stand with me and hold my hand and we took communion together.  It was lovely in the middle of that moment to be able to have my spouse support me.  And, with the exception of one or two well-intentioned people who spouted hurtful platitudes, I received nothing but love and support from my church family.  I felt the church, through it's actions, really saying to me, "Peace be with you."  Though sad, I felt comforted.

So, where am I now?  Back in acceptance for the moment, but who knows where I'll be tomorrow.  Such is the nature of grief.  But, I'm getting there.  In my own way.  In my own time.

Plan B

So, today was the big day.  Sadly, although not surprisingly, my beta test was negative.  In fact, it was not even close.  I could tell it must be practically 0 because they told me I could stop my meds.  I was right--it was a less than 2.  I will go ahead and have another beta on Wednesday just to make sure nothing strange is going on, but that's it.  We hit the top, took the straight drop to the bottom and pulled into the station.  We have officially ended our fertility journey.  I am sad that I am not pregnant, and I am sad that Lil' Bit will not have siblings, but I will not miss the roller coaster, or the shots, or the physical and emotional toll that trying again would require.

So, what happens now?  First, some tlc for ourselves.  FYI, it turns out that no amount of pre-grieving would have allowed me to stay at work and focus today.  And, since I no longer needed to save vacation time for maternity leave, I took the day off.  I went out to lunch with my bff and got lots of hugs and support.  I also went out and got myself a sassy new haircut to celebrate.  What is there to celebrate?  My new beginning.  Because this isn't just an end.

Second, I called my doctor's office and scheduled an appointment for discussing/scheduling my hysterectomy.  I am so excited about the potential end of all the pain and problems I had suffered for 25 years or so.

Third, I signed up to walk a half-marathon with my sister next year.  We had done it twice before and I had talked to her before the procedure was scheduled to set this up a plan B.  So, this afternoon, we both signed up.  Now, I can spend time training and getting in shape.

Fourth, we are filling out the paperwork to donate our remaining embryos to the clinic for couples who are waiting.  There's currently a 12- to 15-month waiting period and we want to help alleviate that wait for at least one couple if we can.

Finally, over the next few months, I will sort through all of the baby clothes and gear we have that we won't need any more and gift it or give it away.  It will be nice to release all of that stuff to make room for whatever comes next.

None of this is to say that we are not sad and feeling broken and raw.  There is much to grieve and I have no idea how long that will take.  But, honestly, knowing this was our last time before we started has made this much easier in so many ways.  There's no fretting about trying again.  We aren't stuck in a holding pattern.

And we know that we are lucky.  We are still parents.  We have an amazing toddler that we get to help become whoever she is going to be.  In that respect, we won the IVF lotto.  But tonight, I think we will hold her a little tighter and be just a little more thankful that we have her.  Because after all we have been through, she seems more fragile, more precious, and even more of a miracle.

The Love/Hate Relationship With HPTs

I know I said I wasn't posting anything until tomorrow, but since the whole point is to share the journey, here's what's been going on the last week or so.

Fertility clinics and many fertility patients will tell you that hpts (home pregnancy tests) are evil.  Why?  Because they can be wrong and cause extra turmoil on an already rough road.  For people doing fresh cycles, if they are done too early, they can pick up the hCG from the trigger shot, causing a potential false positive.  For other people, they can cause false negatives because the hCG amount is too small to be picked up on the hpt even though the person is pregnant.  For me, they have been emotionally taxing, but I am ultimatelly glad I chose to use them.

Before I explain, here is some terminology from the ttc (trying to conceive) community:
3dt = 3-day transfer, i.e., the embryos are 3 days old at the time of transfer
dpt = days past transfer
dpo = days past ovulation
Thus, 2dp3dt means 2 days past a 3-day transfer, which is equivalent to 5dpo.

Now, where was I?  Ah, yes.  When I went through my fresh cycle with Lil' Bit.  I followed the advice of the clinic and refused to use an hpt.  I was afraid that a negative would cause too much despair and a positive would make me question whether it was just residual trigger shot.  I would question the result either way.  So, if it couldn't give me any answers to make me feel better, I wasn't going to use it.  At 11dp3dt, my beta was 22 and, based on the subsequent numbers, she more than doubled every 48 hours.  Since many hpts only have a sensitivity of 25 and the lowest I've seen is 15, my pregnancy with her likely wouldn't have shown up on an hpt before the beta.

When I went through the first FET, I decided that since there was no trigger shot, there was nothing to cause a false positive, so I would give it a try.  I first used an hpt 8dp3dt and got a very light positive, which got darker over the next few days of testing.  The positive result was confirmed by my blood beta test, which was done 11dp3dt.

Having had two successful transfers (i.e., both achieved pregnancy even though I miscarried with the second), I saw no reason to expect anything different and I began testing at 6dp3dt.  My plan was to see how early the test would show me those two lines.  Well, the plan blew up in my face.  I got negatives both 6 and 7dp3dt, but I wasn't surprised because it was still extremely early.  However, as the days went by, every morning I got the same thing: a negative.  Each new negative made it less likely that I was pregnant.  I was not without hope, however.

According to my research, the latest a blastocyst will implant is 10dpo or 7dp3dt.  If implantation occurred that late, it was unlikely to show up this morning on even the most sensitive test.  In addition, I looked back at my numbers from Lil' Bit and, as noted above, that pregnancy probably would not have showed up on an hpt.  So, it's still possible.  How probable it is I don't know.  There are no statistics for how many embryos implant late and, of those, how many take, etc. etc.  All I can do is wait.

We won't get an official answer until sometime tomorrow.  And the truth is, even then, we go back for another beta on Wednesday because it's possible that it will show an increase even if the first number is super low.  So, even a negative tomorrow isn't definitive--although it certainly makes that outcome more likely.  But, as much as I have been all over the place these last few days with the negative results and trying to hold on to hope, I think that I am ultimately glad I tested.  It has helped me pre-grieve and prepare myself for a negative.  That way, if it comes, I will be more capable of holding myself together at work tomorrow.  And, if I get a positive instead, I will be that much more excited.

See You at the Top

Yesterday was our last FET.  The doctor transferred two good, growing embryos-one 8-cell and one 6-cell.  I'm now on bed rest for two days and then still have a few restrictions.  The most difficult is that I can't lift my daughter for four days!  It's meant rearranging our schedule and trying to explain to a toddler why mommy can't pick her up or put her to bed at night.  Still, it's only a few days, so I know we'll manage.

Blood tests are scheduled for October 1 & 3.  However, as with the last one, I intend to poas (pee on a stick) starting September 28.  Results will not be announced until the official blood test, however.  That way, if we do get a positive early, we have a few days to enjoy the knowledge ourselves and, if we get negatives, we can disregard them until we get the official word.

So, here I am.  In my last tww (two week wait).  I realize that it's only a 7-day wait to some degree given my choice to poas, and it's only 10 days until the official test.  Still, in pregnancy land, we have standard language that everyone understands, so we stick with it.  Besides, it doesn't matter if the wait is only 2 days, it feels like forever.  This time around, I find myself both more and less anxious to know.  Much like Schrodinger's cat, as long as I don't look, there's still the possibility that there's a baby in there.  But, for now, I know that there are 2 babies in there.  Only they can decide how long they plan to stay, but I keep talking to them, letting them know that we're ready and we hope that one or both of them choose to stick around.

And the truth is, we mean it.  Would twins be hard?  Yes.  Would another child with medical issues be hard? Yes.  Do I have any idea how I would handle it?  No.  But I do know that I can handle it.  I am capable of handling whatever comes.  Would I prefer easy?  Yes.  Wouldn't everyone?!  But, ultimately, we'll get what we get.  And so we wait.  Anxious.  Excited.  Happy.  Terrified.  Just like both times before.

Having sped down the first giant hill and flipped through a couple twists, we have arrived at the slow, anticipatory climb up the next big hill.  It serves as time to both catch our breath and freak out about what is up ahead.  But as we climb, I notice that the top of the hill flattens out a bit and splits off in two directions.  One way has a quick drop that then heads directly back to the station.  The other drops into some loops and heads off toward more hills and twists in the distance.  Since I don't know which one we're going to get, I am going to try and sit back and enjoy whatever time I have left on this ride.  See you at the top.

Finding Peace Amid Sorrow and Joy

Last week, I went for my ultrasound to make sure everything was on schedule for my FET this week.  It was all good news and we "are go," as the Thunderbirds used to say.  I was 10 mm--they like to see at least 8--with an ideal triple stripe pattern.  There I go, overachieving again.  So, where does this leave us?  Well, tonight was my last shot.  Barring gestational diabetes that needs insulin, I am all done with self-injections.  Can I get a Woo Hoo?!  Tomorrow I start progesterone, Tuesday I start antibiotics and steroids, and Thursday is our "professional installation."  Being our last round, this is a pretty big week for us.

As it turns out, it's also a very emotional week for other reasons, as I rejoice and mourn for myself and several of my friends.  On the joyous side, one friend will have her first ultrasound this week and get her first view of her baby(ies?).  On the difficult side of things, Thursday would have marked 35 weeks with Oliver and will also be the anniversary of another friend's miscarriage.

It is a reminder to me that joys can be tinged with sadness.  But I also remember that joys can feel so much greater when they come after experiencing so much adversity.  So this week, as I prepare for my last chance at becoming a biological mother, I will lift up in prayers and celebrate strong women everywhere.  Women who have experienced infertility.  Women who are denied the children they so desperately want.  Women who have lost children too soon, at whatever time and whatever age.  Women who have provided for their children as best they know how by giving them a life with someone else.  Women who have raised children without help from families or community.  Women caring for special needs children.  Women struggling with their own chronic or terminal illness while trying to meet the needs of their children.  Women doing the best they can with the life they have been given.

And whether this week brings joy, or sorrow, or some of both, I know that I will get through it.  Because the one lesson I have learned over and over--as I struggled with infertility, gave myself shots, weathered my daughter's health issues, and survived a miscarriage--is that I am so much stronger than I ever thought possible.  And so, as I go into this week of sorrow and joy, of beginnings and endings, of life and death, I will find peace in the knowledge that I am strong enough, come what may.

Selling Nostalgia

When I was newly pregnant and even shortly after Lil' Bit's birth, I used to wander the toy aisles scoping out all the toys, looking to see what was new since I was a kid.  And, if I came across a toy from my childhood, I got giddy at the thought of buying it for her so she could have as much enjoyment as I did playing with it.  But, here's the thing, it only works with *some* toys.  Things like Lincoln Logs or Legos are fun because you get to build things with them and that doesn't change from generation to generation.  [I speak only of the "regular" Legos and do not include the new "girl" Legos as I think they are an affront to females everywhere.  But, I digress.]  Care Bears, Cabbage Patch Kids, GI Joe, Transformers, My Little Pony, and Strawberry Shortcake can get facelifts and be sold for years into the future as well.

It works less well with what I call "household item" toys.  In particular, I remember seeing two Fisher Price toys that I loved when I was a kid and initially wanted to snatch right off of the shelf then and there, so I would have them for her to play with--the record player and telephone:

Fortunately, I overcame my impulse and didn't buy them, for which I am grateful.  See, as Lil' Bit has grown up, I realized that these toys would not be much fun for her.  What made them fun for me was that they were play versions of things my parents and older siblings had/used.  That is no longer true.  Lil' Bit loves her fake cell phone because it looks like mine.  A rotary phone and record-player don't have that same appeal.  At her age, she wants to do what we do and use what we use.  These objects don't fit that mold.

Watching Lil' Bit play with certain other toys has only reinforced my belief that this is true.  I have an old-school Winnie-the-Pooh Busy Box that was mine as a child.  It has switches, knobs, and dials which, when pressed, cause a character to pop up.  Lil' Bit mastered all of them quite easily--except the rotary dial.  Why?  Because she doesn't see one anywhere else so she has no behavior from which to learn how to use it.  I also got her a Super Grover remote, which she enjoys, but even that has issues--namely, rewind and fast-foward buttons.  When the buttons are pressed, Grover makes these great noises that are hilarious to anyone who ever had a VCR.  But for Lil' Bit, who has known only DVDs and DVRs, the sounds may be silly, but she'll never get the joke.

The truth is, toy companies are selling is nostalgia.  They are intentionally preying on our emotional attachment to our childhood to get us to buy toys for our kids.  I don't know that there's anything necessarily wrong with it, mind you, as long as we're aware of it.  Why?  Because if we give in and buy the toys, our kids may not play with them, or may not enjoy them the same way we did, and we might be disappointed.  This is not to say that we can't or shouldn't go ahead and indulge our nostalgia.  Besides, isn't that part of why we have kids in the first place--to have an excuse to buy toys for ourselves?  So go ahead.  Buy that record player and listen to that tinny, plinky version of "twinkle twinkle little star" as many times as you can stand, or run your fingers along the "needles" to make a cacophony of plinks.  Enjoy every second of your nostalgia.  Just be honest about it.

The Demise of Mutant M

So, back in January when I was undergoing my previous FET, I mentioned how my doctor had pronounced me a mutant because I didn't seem to experience any of the side effects of the medicine and, lo, Mutant M was born.  Sadly, Mutant M seems to have passed.  This time around, I have had headaches, stinging and slight rash at the injection site, and, most frustratingly, become an emotional wreck.  Every time I get into my car to go somewhere--work, the store, day care, dairy queen--I get all teared up and sad.

Now, there are any number of reasons for this.  One possibility is that I am totally stressed, which is making me emotional.  Possible.  But, honestly, if stress were going to cause it, I think I would have experienced it back in January when we were still learning how to cope with Lil' Bit post-surgery with meds and everything.  My personal theory?  My anti-depressants.  I am physically, chemically different than I was the last two times I took the Lupron and, since side effects are essentially chemical responses or reactions, it makes logical sense.  Ultimately, though, it doesn't really matter what has caused it.  And, at least now I can empathize with all the other ladies who experienced these symptoms.  Still, I (and likely Phil) am sad to see Mutant M go.  On the plus side, since this is our last try, I don't have to worry about whether it will bother me in the future.

So long Mutant M.  It was nice while it lasted.

18 days, 14 shots, and counting...

Marching Orders

[This post is going to look very similar to the one from January, because the protocol is identical.  We're mostly just changing the dates around.  Still, a plan is a plan.  So, here it is.]

This morning I had my blood drawn to check my estrodiol (estrogen) levels.  It needed to be under 50 and mine was 29.  Yay!  You might notice a discrepancy between the necessary levels for this test, and the one I talked about in January.  The difference is that the test can be run on cycle day (CD) 1, 2 or 3.  This time, I had the blood drawn on CD 1, whereas last time it was on CD 2.  The levels should necessarily be lower on CD 2, than CD 1.  Hence, the difference in the level I needed.

I contacted the fertility center and left the pertinent information in a message.  The coordinator called me back and we began calculating when my procedure would be.  We then counted back 18 days from that date to determine when I start my additional meds.  Why do it this way?  Because they only do FETs on Tuesday through Friday (because they have to thaw the embryos and give them time to grow and don't want people to have to come in on the weekend to do it).  So, they don't want people to begin taking meds on a day when their procedure would fall on a Monday or a weekend.  Go figure.  Anyway, we determined that the earliest I could start the meds was tomorrow, but then day 18 would fall on a Monday (the 17th), which is a no go.  The 18th was out because Phil had something on his calendar.  I didn't want Friday the 21st, because I need two days of bedrest (transfer day and the next day), which meant I needed two weekdays so  that Lil' Bit would be in daycare.  That left the 19th and 20th--exactly what I predicted back in June.  Am I good or what?  As I noted in that June post, this transfer date makes for a June baby--roughly June 13th, give or take how they calculate the age of the embryo and everything.

But, what this means for me more immediately is that I have only 18 shots left!  Woo Hoo!  *happy dance*  For those looking for technical details, the protocol is as follows:

• I cut my Lupron dose in half beginning tonight.
• On 9/3, I begin taking estrogen, with the dose increasing on days 6 and 10.
• On day 11 (9/13), I will have an ultrasound to make sure everything is developing appropriately for the transfer.
• Assuming everything is on track, I continue the Lupron and estrogen for 4 more days (including 9/13).
• On day 15 (9/17), I stop the Lupron, reduce the estrogen, and start progesterone.
• On day 16, I start taking antibiotics and steroids in addition to everything else.
• Day 18 = Transfer Day! Followed by the dreaded two-week wait (TWW).

The excitement is building.  We are only 3 weeks away from transfer!  Can you feel that?  It's the roller coaster slowing down as we near the top of the first hill.  Fellow travelers, get ready to raise your hands up over your head, scream as loud as you can, and enjoy the ride.

Added Degree of Difficulty

Back before they changed the scoring system in the Olympics, there was a phrase that was tossed around by the commentators a great deal--"That's an added degree of difficulty."  It was a reference to when a dive or gymnastics routine had a particular start value, but because the athlete had added a few extra twists or whatever, it now had a higher total value because those moves represented "an added degree of difficulty."

We use this phrase around our house a lot.  Anytime something is harder than usual for some reason, we say it's got an added degree of difficulty.  Now, having children is always an added degree of difficulty.  But sometimes, like the last few days, my child's medical needs (also an added degree of difficulty) give her an extra added degree of difficulty.  See, for the last few days, Lil' Bit has been sick.  Nothing outrageous, just the usual: green snot, rattly cough, and some vomiting.

Ah, but there's the rub.  Vomiting.  See, since she has to take her meds six times a day (plus now an antibiotic on top of that), and they have to stay down 20 minutes for it to be considered a dose, vomiting causes a big problem.  Ultimately, if she can't keep her meds down, then we have to take her to the ER because she has to have her meds.  Furthermore, because we have to tell the pharmacy how many pills we have left before we can get a refill, I freak out when we have to give a second dose because I know we are now short some pills and worry about whether the pharmacy is going to start giving me crap about it.

So, needless to say, I have spent the past two days totally freaked out.  Fortunately, there is a wonderful medicine that helps control the vomiting, so we were able to get things under control and get Lil' Bit all of her meds without a trip to the hospital--just the urgent care.  Still, I hate that even the simple problems of childhood sometimes become a much bigger issue because of her health condition.

On the plus side, however, we are getting much better at all of this stuff.  We call it being stronger players.  It's our paraphrase of a line from the movie Searching For Bobby Fischer, where one kid tells another, "You're a much stronger player than I was at your age."  Anytime we manage to do something that would have overwhelmed us previously, we say, "You're a much stronger player," or "You're playing at a higher level."  It's our way of recognizing how far we've come.  And, although I still get freaked out and cry at the notion of having to take Lil' Bit back to the hospital for something simple and "normal" like vomiting, I have learned how to handle things calmly until the worst is over and *then* fall apart where she can't see me, so I don't make her more anxious.

Sometimes, I think back to when I was a new parent and got overwhelmed at the smallest thing.  The challenges we face today would have seemed insurmountable to the me back then.  Now, I can take things that used to terrify me in stride.  I'm pleased to discover I am capable, but sometimes, I wish I didn't have to learn just how capable I am.

Lessons from GenCon

We recently returned from a week-long visit to Indianapolis, where we saw family and attended GenCon. We had previously attended before Lil' Bit, but didn't make 2010 or 2011, so it was wonderful to finally make it back and visit with people we hadn't seen in a few years.  And, so, having completed another excursion away from home, it's time for another edition of lessons from....

1)  Attending conventions requires lots more pre-planning with a toddler.  For one, we had to make sure we didn't schedule events at the same time so that the other parent was available to watch Lil' Bit.  We also had to stay at a hotel for the first time (we used to stay with family about 30 mins away), because of Lil' Bit's medication and nap needs.  It worked out fabulously and we will definitely do it that way again in the future.

2)  It's hard to allow your toddler moments of independence when you are surrounded by roughly 41,000 other people.  Lil' Bit often wanted to run free or help push the stroller, rather than ride in it.  When it seemed less busy, I was more than happy to let her.  I would try and steer her, the stroller, or both, away from people, and we did manage to not hit anyone.  But, there were times when she wanted down and it just wasn't safe.  Yes, it made her mad, and I apologize to those who had to listen to my toddler throw a screaming fit because I wouldn't let her run around, but I'd rather piss people off with her screaming than lose her in a sea of thousands of strangers.

3)  No more late evenings.  Holy cow!  We only stayed out late one night, and it was the night before we left, and even that was rough.  That 4:45 wake-up for meds comes no matter what.

4)  If your toddler has to get sick, the morning you are trying to pack and leave is both the most and least convenient time.  Since you are trying to pack and get out of the room without incurring an addition charge, having to stop and snuggle your barfing child and change her clothes four times, etc. isn't the most stress-free environment.  Plus, you wonder if she's going to barf on the trip home.  However, you don't care if she barfs all over the sheets because it is not your bed, you don't have to clean it up, and you aren't even coming back that night.  So, grab every clean towel you need.  No worries.

5)  Don't overschedule yourself.  I had given myself two short periods throughout the con to go through the dealer's hall and look for crap, I mean stuff, to buy.  However, when Lil' Bit started to have a meltdown from being tired and around lots of people and noise, the only solution was to take her back to the room and *poof* there went my time to poke around.  So, next time, I will make sure to schedule myself more free time to do that without Lil' Bit.

6)  Lil' Bit is still the best thing ever.  I have to say, there is simply nothing like the feeling of coming out of a seminar or game, looking over to see your spouse and child playing together waiting for you, and then, witnessing the moment when your child looks up and sees you and grins bigger than her face, and starts running toward you.  Honestly, it never gets old and it makes up for the crabbiest tantrum.  In our house, we call it a "heal your heart" moment.

7)  Family naps are amazing.  Every morning we got up at the crack of dawn (read 4:00 a.m. or so) to do meds and played with Lil' Bit until 6:00 a.m., when we would head down to the restaurant for our free buffet breakfast.  We'd end up back at the room shortly before 7:00 a.m. and usually, by 7:15 a.m. doodlebug was ready for, or already taking, a nap.  Holding her in my lap, rocking her to sleep, placing her in the middle of the bed, and each of us taking a snooze on either side of her was not only refreshing for the sleep, but the whole rocking, snuggling, napping thing was another "heal the heart" moment.

8)  Lil' Bit isn't little.  And I don't mean just your normal, she's not my baby anymore.  No.  I mean, when people hear how old she is, they are impressed by her size.  For example, there I was, standing in line with Phil and Lil' Bit, waiting to get Wil Wheaton's autograph and trying not make a complete and utter fool of myself.  Our turn arrives.  We walk up and begin to make small talk.  "How old is she?" he asks.  "21 months," I reply.  "Wow!  She's the HUGEST toddler I have ever seen!" he replies as his eyes bug out of his head.  Yes, Wil Wheaton thinks my toddler is gargantuan.  I thought it was totally hilarious and, in all fairness, at 35 inches she is in the 90th percentile for height.  Still, I can't help but wonder what he would have thought if we had explained she was that big *and* had a heart condition and open-heart surgery.  How much bigger might she have become?

9)  Lil' Bit loves her clothes.  I bought her a GenCon shirt, although it's more like a dress since they didn't have anything smaller than a 4/5.  But, when she saw me put on my shirt, she began throwing a fit because she thought I was wearing hers.  I had to take hers out and put it on her for her to understand there was more than one.  She did it again when Phil wore his.  I think she wore the shirt 3 days in a row before we were able to get it off of her.

All in all, GenCon was amazing.  Although it was my most tiring one, it was also my favorite since I started attending.  I can't wait to take Lil' Bit back next year.

Politics, Religion, and IVF

As I've mentioned at least a few times before, infertility sucks.  It makes so many aspects of life much more difficult.  I feel fortunate, however, that when it came time to decide whether to move forward and how far to go, we were able to make our decision without any personal conflicts, such as religious or family objections. I know a number of couples who belong to religious faiths that prohibit use of ART (assisted reproductive technology).  While some of the couples elected to abide by that prohibition, others decided to move forward.  Some spoke with their clergy members, others did not.  Ultimately, decisions about fertility are uniquely personal.  Each couple makes the best decision they can based on their own situation.  And, regardless of the decision they make, they deserve to be supported.

This doesn't happen in the real world.  In fact, even when couples are successful and achieve their heart's desire--pregnancy--people sometimes still give them crap about the choices they made because it ran counter to the decision that person would have made.  For example, there was a woman at my workplace who told me that both my pregnancy and my child were "an abomination."  Now, I'm no expert in other people's faiths, but, at least as I understand it, children are always considered a gift from God, regardless of the manner of conception.  Even children conceived by rape or incest are beloved by God.  How anyone could judge a child based on how it was conceived it beyond me.  But, my personal experience very clearly illuminated to me that people do make such judgments.  Sadly, it is people like this who keep those suffering from infertility in the closet, preventing them from receiving the support they desire and deserve.  Infertility is hard enough without being berated every step of the way.

However, difficult as this may be, there are people who are attempting to make it impossible by making IVF illegal.  Now, I understand advocating for your own personal beliefs.  What I have a problem with is politicians, who are supposed to represent everyone, including those who hold different beliefs, who, instead, seek to impose their personal beliefs on everyone.  If a couple feels strongly against using IVF, then they should not use it.  They should not, however, be in the position to make that decision for other couples.  Making IVF illegal will destroy many couple's only hope at having a child.

Now, there are those who believe that adoption should be utilized, rather than IVF.  Here's the thing.  Adoption is not the fix-all panacea that people make it out to be.  This is not to say that it isn't a wonderful thing.  I know many people who have successfully adopted or placed children for adoption.  It is absolutely an option for becoming a parent.  However, it is neither equivalent to, nor a replacement for, IVF.  Prospective adoptive parents have to first jump through hoops to prove that they are better than many parents out there before they are even given the chance to be considered.  You can't do it, you're out, regardless of how amazing you would be as parents.  Then, they have to sell themselves to birth parents, hoping to be picked.  If they can't convince anyone to give them their child, they are out of luck.  Once they have been selected by the birth parents, they spend thousands of dollars on medical care for the birth mother, but still there is no guarantee.  Sometimes, birth mothers decide at the last minute to keep their children.  Now, the couple is out thousands of dollars and yet, remains childless.  Worse, there are women who deliberately mislead couples in order to receive medical care during pregnancy, although they actually have no intention of giving up their child.  This happened to a friend of mine, twice, and she was working with a reputable agency.  So, I reject the proposition that adoption is an adequate or acceptable solution if IVF is made illegal.

Furthermore, there are people who are just unwilling to raise a child that isn't biologically theirs.  I don't see any reason to deny these people the opportunity to be parents by outlawing the only viable method they have.  In light of the increased politicization of this issue, it will certainly inform how I will vote this election.  And I urge you to get informed about the positions advocated by your candidate of choice and make sure they align with your own.

Stepping Off the Platform

So, here we are.  Day 21.  I have just completed my first shot of my last IVF cycle.  I'm still surprised by how hard it is to give myself shots.  I thought I would be less anxious by now.  But, no.  No matter how many shots I have given myself--and each time the count goes up by at least one--I still have to psych myself up.  In fact, this one felt harder to convince myself to do than the very first shot I did 2 1/2 years ago.  I don't know if it's because of the finality of this cycle, or just my inherent survival instincts telling me to avoid pain.  Whatever it is, though, I overcame it and gave myself the shot.  Go me!  I marked the occasion with my traditional smiley face on my shot calendar, and now, I will go find something in my feel-better box to reward myself!

But the fact remains, I am standing at the beginning of the end.  My last chance to experience pregnancy and carry another child.  My last chance at a sibling for Lil' Bit.  My last heartbreak if it fails or I miscarry.  This ride is both familiar and brand new.  Although I know what to expect for the most part, I have no idea how knowing this is the last time will affect all of those experiences.  But I am ready.  And so, it is with anxiety, fear, trembling, trepidation, and excitement, but most of all, trust in our decision, that I step off the platform, sit down in the seat, and pull down the lap bar to secure myself for my last ride on the fertility roller coaster.

Shot calendar with a single smiley face

Paying for Stitch

Lil' Bit has begun to want to help around the house.  Whether it's taking groceries out of the bag and handing them to me to put away, or shutting the refrigerator door, even though I'm still in it, she's figured out that these are things big people do and, therefore, she needs to do them, too.

Now, some of you may remember the song from Free To Be You & Me about helping.  It includes these two, very wise lines:

Some kinds of help, are the kind of help, that helping's all about.
And some kinds of help, are the kind of help, we all can do without.

There are days that Lil' Bit's helping feels more like the latter, than the former.  But, looking at the grin on her face when she's accomplished something--like shutting the dishwasher all by herself--and it's totally worth it. There have been a few times, however, when I have done the task myself--like closing the dishwasher--without letting her do it.  She will fuss until it has been undone so she can do it.  Around our house, moments like these have become known as "paying for Stitch."

In the movie Lilo & Stitch, there is a brilliantly funny scene where Lilo and her sister are at the pound picking out a dog.  After Lilo has selected Stitch and it's time to pay, her sister begins to hand the money to the woman.  Lilo shouts something like "I want to buy him."  Her sister takes the money back and hands it to Lilo, who then hands it back to her sister, who hands it back to the woman.  Thus, in Lilo's mind, she has paid for Stitch.

Turns out, this is STB - standard toddler behavior.  If I try to toss socks in the laundry bin, I might find I have to take them back out so Lil' Bit can be the one to throw them in.  Closed the dishwasher?  Have to open it up so she can close it.  Put a book back on the shelf?  Take it back down and give it to her to put back up.  Folded a shirt?  Unfold it so she can try.  Turned off a light?  Have to turn it back on so she can do it.  You get the idea.  We have also discovered that there is no end to these "paying for Stitch" moments, and I never know I've found a new one until it happens.  Things I was allowed to do yesterday, today are things only she is allowed to do.  It's frustrating and time consuming on occasion.  But, looking at it from her perspective, she's learning to control her environment and figure out how things happen.  So, when we hit upon another such task, we look at each other, likely with much the same expression as Lilo's sister wore, and let Lil' Bit "pay for Stitch."  After all, someday, she'll be a teenager and she won't want to do anything.  Best to enjoy it while it lasts.

The Power of Elmo

Before I became a parent, I remember hearing parents talk about the character obsessions of their children.  The usual suspects included Barney, Sponge Bob, Dora, and Elmo.  I thought I had a vague understanding of what that must be like.  I have discovered that I had no idea.

Now, I will admit that I have worked hard to shape her obsession in the event she had one--which she clearly does.  I wanted it to be something I could tolerate.  And, overall, all things Sesame Street are good.  We have lots of books (that we read and reread endlessly) that have Big Bird and Snuffy, Cookie Monster, Ernie, Bert, etc.  She also used to love Abby and still plays with her Abby doll from time to time.  She has a Sesame Street playset and loves all the characters.  One of her favorite gives is to have Phil or me put on the stethoscope and she will hand us the characters one by one to listen to and make sure they are healthy.  She gives each one a smooch before tossing them away for the next one.  She loves watching the opening and closing credits of Sesame Street and points to every last one of the characters, every time, like it is something new to see them there.  And, having been a Sesame Street kid myself, I don't mind that this is her obsession.  There are way worse things in the world.  But, even within Sesame Street, there is a favorite.  You know who it is.  It's the same one every child under 5 gets hooked it.

My child is obsessed with Elmo.  With the rare exception of Super Grover (2.0), nothing but Elmo on the screen will do.  If Elmo isn't on the screen, she gets upset.  Even during Elmo's World, during the segments like Mr. Noodle, Elmo's email, or watching the whatever channel, she starts to get fussy.  I swear to you, it's like she's having withdrawal.  She turns to me and points to the remote, telling me in no uncertain terms that my job is to fast forward through anything that is not Elmo.  We also have an iPad app where Elmo teaches ABCs.  She will exit the app and restart it, over and over again, just to watch more Elmo, even though it's the same 30 seconds.  It's both adorable and annoying.

On the plus side, Elmo will tame the savage beast.  Having an uncontrollable fit?  Elmo to the rescue.  Refusing to take meds?  Bribe her with Elmo ("If you take your meds, you can go watch Elmo").  Turns out, Elmo is both the cause of, and cure for, many bad behaviors.  Still, nothing beats the look on her face when she receives a surprise Elmo present.  The other day, some friends of ours came over with something for Lil' Bit.  It turned out to be a big red fuzzy blanket with a huge Elmo face on it.  Among other things, she petted it, rolled around on it, twirled and danced on it, wrapped up in it, wore it like a cape, and kissed it.  I can only think of one or two other gifts she has received that she fell in love with so quickly that nothing else mattered.  [And, our friends get full points for giving such a great gift that doesn't make any noise or light up!]  So, whenever I experience moments where she's getting fussy because I am requiring her to have patience and suffer through non-Elmo scenes, I remember the sheer joy and hours of fun she has already had with a simple red blanket with a huge monster face on it.  And I am thankful for the power of Elmo.

The Final Countdown

[Those of you who listened to pop music in the 80's probably now have a song cootie stuck in your head.  You're welcome :)]

Although I've been somewhat quiet on the IVF front, recently, we've actually been doing a lot behind the scenes.  Now that we've made some decisions, I thought I would share those with you.

First, we spent the last month or two talking about how many embryos we wanted to use.  We talked about using three since this was our last round and we wanted to increase our chances of a "take home baby" (as opposed to simply achieving pregnancy).  We spoke with our doctor and he calculated that the increased risk of multiples was 4-5% and the increased chance of success was 5-10%.  So--the increased success rate was greater than the increased risk.  He had no objections to our using three.  The choice was up to us.  We prayed, thought, and talked about it for a while and we both reached the same place.  We don't think we can handle three.  Although the risk is small, there's no fraction of a kid.  If we hit the jackpot, we come home with triplets.  We agreed that twins would be tricky, but are willing to take that risk because both previous cycles we used two embryos and only one implanted.  Obviously, there's still a chance of triplets, even with two--one or both could split into identicals.  But, that chance is extremely slim.  Like, lightning bolt thin.  Certainly, much slimmer than the risk of multiples when transferring three embryos.  More important, we both still believe that we'll get what we're supposed to have.  If we really trust that, we'll stick with the regular plan.  Changing things up now really feels like inviting trouble.  So, we both agreed to stick with two.

Second, we agreed to go ahead with this round.  I can hear you now--"That's not news."  Well, actually, it is.  Although we previously agreed to one more cycle several months ago, we decided that it would be a good idea, now that the time is upon us, to reconsider our decision and see if that was still where we were, rather than just move forward because of the momentum of a choice previously made.  I wanted to honor any second thoughts either of us was having.  It's much easier not to start a cycle than stop it, and we certainly couldn't return a baby.  So, this was the time to decide whether we still wanted to go forward.  We know it's going to be hard.  We know everything about our lives will change again if we're successful.  But, there's so much that we want for ourselves and Lil' Bit that just doesn't happen without another child.  So, we've reaffirmed our decision to move forward.

That brings us to today.  Today is day 1 of the pre-procedure month.  Twenty days from now, I will take the first of my last rounds of shots.  This is it!  The countdown to our final attempt.  The countdown toward change.  The countdown toward shots!  The countdown for our last ride on the roller coaster.  After this, the park closes and we go home.  It's joyful and sad all at the same time.  I am nervous, anxious, excited!  I can't wait to find out what's going to happen.  But, as we move through the corrals, listening to the shrieks and cries of those already on the ride, waiting for our turn to board, I want to take time and wish luck to all those in line with us--whether in front or behind.  None of us knows how this will turn out.  Just know that I hope for your success and I wish you joy and happiness no matter what the outcome.  If you need it, you will always have a friend here on the ground who has been there, who knows what it's like, and who sends you love and comfort.  Here's to you, wherever you are in your journey.  And here's to me, as I set out on a final ride.

Tread Carefully; It's Not Just Making Small Talk

People are nosy.  I get that.  We want to know what's going on in other people's lives.  There are limits, though.  We, as a society, have some generalized ground rules about where the boundaries are.  For example, most people find it inappropriate to walk up to one another and say, "Hey, how much do you earn at your job?"  Similarly, health issues are generally off-limits.  And, with the exception of procreation-related exceptions, people's sex life is generally off the table.  It's those procreation-related exceptions I want to talk about today.  Excuse me whilst I step up onto my soapbox.

For starters, the following questions (and any variants thereof) are not appropriate and should not be asked by anyone other than a VERY close friend or relative and maybe not even then.  Why?  Because although it seems like a harmless question to you, it may bring up all kinds of nightmares for the other person.  You won't intend to, but it will happen all the same.  Furthermore, their answer might require them to reveal far more about themselves than you or they want.  So, quite simply, follow two simple rules:  Don't Assume.  Don't Ask.

1)  Are you planning to have kids?  When are you going to have kids?  Why don't you have kids?
2)  Are you going to have any more kids?  Is this your only one?
3)  Are you going to try for a boy/girl?
4)  Now that you have one of each, are you done?
5)  Aren't you done having kids yet?  Don't you think you're stretched a little thin?  Are all of those yours?

Underlying each of these questions is an assumption that we need to get rid of.

The first is our belief that any of this is our business.  It's not.  Just as you don't have any say in the choice of job, house, food, clothes, or voting habits of anyone else, you don't have any say in the whether or how many children a couple has.  And, it's not just making polite conversation.  It's nosy and intrusive.  Whether and how many children someone has is personal, intimate, and potentially involves religious beliefs and medical issues.  Unless they offer, you don't ask.

The second is that everyone who is married is planning to have kids.  They are not.  So asking if/when they are planning to have them is inserting yourself into the couple's private decisions.  Butt out.  Besides, they may be struggling with infertility and your question will only rip open that gaping wound and make them feel more inadequate than they already do.  So, don't.

The third is that anyone without kids didn't want them.  Infertility prevents many couples from ever having children.  Although infertility treatments and adoption can provide solutions for some couples, neither is a guarantee, and either or both can be cost prohibitive.

The fourth is that everyone who is pregnant is happy and wants to share.  We all know there are unplanned pregnancies, pregnancies from incest or rape, and otherwise difficult pregnancies.  There are also women who are gestational carriers.  Asking intrusive questions about the due date, gender, and whether it was an accident is simply not appropriate.  If they volunteer in some manner that let's you know it's okay, that's different.  But don't be the one to bring it up.

The fifth is that there is something wrong with choosing to stop at one child.  If a parent feels financially, physically, or mentally overwhelmed by one child, we should give them props that they recognized that and stopped after one rather than getting in way over their heads with more.  Just because you felt the same way and managed to make it work when more came along is irrelevant.  They aren't you.  They are making the best decision they know how for themselves.  Let them and leave them the heck alone.

The sixth is that somehow two is the perfect number of children, particularly if you have one boy and one girl.  Electing to have more than two is, again, a choice left up to the parents.  You have no say.  Along these same lines, whether parents stop at 3, 4, 5, or more is also none of your business.  Maybe they have religious objections to birth control.  Maybe they just love children.  I don't care if you are witnessing them in a situation where they are overwhelmed.  It doesn't give you license to question their decision.  Perhaps it's just a bad day.  The point is, you don't know, so don't assume that you do and make remarks based on those assumptions.

The seventh is that parents deep down really want a boy and a girl.  I have many friends and relatives who have 2 or 3 kids who are all the same sex.  And every last one of them will tell you that they do not love their children any more or any less because they are boys/girls.  However, if a couple decides to keep having kids until they do get a particular gendered child, so what.  Again, none of your business.

The eighth is related to the fifth--that people chose to stop at x number of children.  Maybe they did.  But, maybe, they tried everything they could to have more and it never worked.  I know of someone who wanted four children, but infertility struck after the third.  It's not that she didn't love the children she had, but she felt incomplete.  It's the same for people who wanted two only got one, or who wanted one never got any.  Just because someone has a child, or two, or three, or whatever, doesn't mean that infertility and miscarriage don't affect them.  So don't assume that a couple knowingly chose to have x-number of children.

The ninth is that choosing to have kids, working to have kids, and raising kids is the same for everyone.  It's not.  Whether a couple that never wanted children discovers they are pregnant and must choose whether to give the child up for adoption; or a couple that easily got pregnant with their first suffers from infertility and never manages to have a second; or a couple has five children because they have religious objections to birth control; or a couple undergoes IVF and has triplets; or, or, or, or, or, the circumstances that cause them to become, or not become, parents are different and every couple has to make its own choices based on their backgrounds and their lives.  It's not your life, so it's not your choice.  Unless they ask you what you would do/did, don't volunteer it.  It doesn't matter.

From my perspective, there's only one assumption we all should make.  Unless we are invited into the conversation by the couple, we need to assume that it is none of our business and not ask any questions.  And, if they do invite us in, we need to tread carefully, watch out for our assumptions, and think before we open our mouths.

Adaptation or Rule Breaking

I think we've all done it.  Whether we ultimately have children or not, at some point, we have seen a parent doing something or hear of someone's parenting technique and we say, "Wow.  If I have kids, I will never" fill in the blank.  Then, for those who become parents, chances are good we will encounter a situation as a parent where we violate that rule we made while so fervently judging that other parent.

The first "I will never" I remember violating is letting Lil' Bit have a pacifier.  Granted, I didn't get much choice in the matter.  When she was whisked away to the nursery because she wasn't breathing well and they elected to give her one, I decided I was not going to fight it.  It made her happy and thousands of well-adjusted people had them.  Besides, I was not going to make her scream by taking it away.  And so it was that I broke my "I would never" number 2--I will never do something just to make my kid quiet.  This has probably been my biggest rule violation and it has come in many forms.  As Bill Cosby said, "Parents aren't interested in justice. They are interested in peace and quiet."  And so we are.  That doesn't mean that I will give my child anything to make her quiet.  When I tell her "no" and she gets upset, I am more than willing to let her be upset than give in to a tantrum.  But, as I mentioned in my most recent vacation post, I will give her an iPad to try and keep her happy in the car.  That action also broke the "I will never have a DVD player in my car."  Although technically I have not violated this rule, let's be honest, iPads are essentially this generation's in-car-DVD system.  So, I own that as a third rule violation.

I also quickly violated the "I will never have my child watch any television before she's 2."  Ha!  While I try very hard to make sure she plays outside or inside with toys, and she gets exposed to music and all types of things, I was living a lie if I thought I was going to keep her tv free.  I remember when I first got her home and we were doing that loving, cuddling, bondy thing.  She slept often.  And although I knew I needed to nap, I couldn't.  But I unwilling to put my baby down either.  She was only going to be small once and I wanted to snuggle the snot out of her while I could.  So, what's a bored woman with insomnia going to do while holding a sleeping child--watch television apparently.  But, I reasoned with myself, she's not watching it; she's asleep.  And, I tried to be more careful when she was awake.  But, time went by, life got in the way, and, let's be honest, I got lazy, and now she's hooked on Phineas and Ferb and Sesame Street.  Still, there are worse things.

I have been thinking about these rule violations recently and I decided that, for me, the goal is to be aware when I do it, know why I do it, and to limit it appropriately as best I can.  But it also made me wonder.  Given that all parenting is trial and error and on-the-job training, am I simply adapting to reality whereas my rules were made when I had no idea how parenting actually worked, or am I rule-breaking?  As with most things, I decided it was neither fully one or the other.  In large part, I made the rule pronouncements without any concept of the realities of parenting.  That does not mean the rules were unachievable.  I know of parents who made similar rules and managed to keep them.  I think the point, though, is to figure out why I made the pronouncement I did.  Why did I think x behavior was bad and want to avoid it with my child?  I also needed to admit to myself why I was breaking the rule/changing my mind.  And, at least for me, as long as I am honest with myself about why I have changed my position, I don't beat myself up.  I know that I'm doing the best I can and learning as I go.  And kudos to the parents who manage to not break their rules, particularly now that I know how hard that is.  Also, I am way easier on the in-my-head judgments I make about parents I see out and about these days.  Before I had kids, I knew everything.  Now that I have one, I am discovering vast realms of knowledge I didn't even know existed.  So, I cut myself a little slack; acknowledge that I probably rushed to judgment in my youth; and move on to the job ahead of me--Being the adult I want Lil' Bit to grow up to be.  That, to me, is the simplest, but most important rule for me to follow.

Lessons from Tennessee

Having returned from another trip, it is time for another episode of "Lessons from..."  Today's lessons come from lovely, but sweltering, Tennessee.

1.  I should have believed everyone who said traveling with a baby is easier.  Yes, it's hard to travel with a lump who needs all of your time.  But, those lumps sleep most of the trip and have no concept of being in a car seat.  In fact, they probably feel all snuggled up in the seat and don't care that it's not your lap.  As long as you slap some food in when they are hungry and change a diaper here and there, you are good to go.  Toddlers, on the other hand, need entertaining.  They want out.  They will scream at you when they don't get what they want.  They will refuse to nap even though they are tired.  Yup.  Traveling with a baby was so much easier.  Wish I had listened to "them."

2.  Trips/vacations aren't nearly as much fun with a clingy, needy child who only wants me.  Here we were, with literally dozens of people, adults and children alike, dying for the chance to hug and entertain my child, but all she would do is scream bloody murder whenever I put her down, let alone left eyesight.  Even her daddy is chopped liver these days.  Back before we had kids, when my sister-in-law told me having kids would mean I would never get to use the bathroom alone again, I never dreamed it would mean holding my child on my lap and reading her a story while I went about my business.  I know that someday I will yearn for my child to want me as much as she does now, but that doesn't stop me from being frustrated that I can't get a single moment to myself or even get simple chores done.

3.  iPads are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.  Between downloading episodes of Phineas & Ferb for my child to watch, cute Fisher Price Apps she can play with, books she can flip through, and the general ability to open mommy's apps and flip the screen around, it kept her occupied when nothing else would work.  I know I said I would never be one of "those" parents who let their child under 2 watch television, let alone let said child play with my telephone or iPad, but that was before I knew how wonderful it was to have a way to stop my child from shrieking during an hour-long traffic back-up because part of I-75 has slid down the side of a mountain.

4.  Never assume that I know what my child likes.  My child loves to play in the tub.  Loves it so much she will squeal if we take her from the tub before she is done.  So, imagine my surprise that she does not like splashing in a pool, a river, or a water park.  Nothing like dropping beaucoup bucks to go to Dollywood Splash Country only to spend most of the day sitting under the canopy waiting to see what other people had fun doing.  At least we had the canopy!

5.  My daughter is a flirt.  On our third attempt to take Lil' Bit into the kiddie pool for a little dip, she spotted a chubby 9-month-old little boy.  Suddenly, she was willing to not only stand in the water, but walk over to him and smile and grin and burble nonsense.  She waved and blew kisses and was positively, disgustingly cute.  All for a little boy.  Once we left his range, however, it was time to leave.  She was having no more of that water stuff, thank you very much.  *sigh*  It's going to be a long 18 years.

6.  Cousins are great.  The few times Lil' Bit deigned to leave me, she was playing with her older cousins, aged 6, 8 and 9.  They managed to help her learn to walk up and down stairs using the handrail.  Although she's not perfect, she's way closer to being able to navigate stairs on her own in the upright position, not just crawling.  When did she get so big?! *sniffle*  But, my point is, these were things I had tried to do with her, but she was unwilling to learn.  However, when it was her cousins, it was different, and she was more than willing to do it for them.  More proof, if I need it, that I need a village to raise my child.

7.  Don't get attached to clothing.  For the short period that I did manage to get Lil' Bit into the river for some play time, she managed to lose a flip-flop which was quickly caught by the current and rushed away long before I even realized it was gone.  Bye-bye ladybug flip-flop.  Now I must find a way to remove the other beloved shoe from my daughter's foot and make it disappear so that she forgets she ever owned them.

8.  I have to relinquish control of some of Lil' Bit's clothing choices.  We inherited a cute little Dora the Explorer sundress (size 3T which currently FITS, but that's for another post).  The moment Lil' Bit saw it, she was over the moon.  Apparently they watch Dora at daycare.  Whenever she sees the dress, picks it up and holds it out and pulls at the clothes she is wearing to let me know she wants to be changed into the dress.  If it is in the laundry bin, she will pull it out.  She doesn't care that it's dirty.  Dirty has no meaning to her.  She just wants Dora.  Other times, she'll see what I have selected and fight me or yell "no" when I try to dress her.  She wants something else.  Most days, she still goes with the flow, but I can see the writing on the wall.  I may get to buy the clothes, but she's going to be picking what she wears from here on out.

9.  Clean up on aisle 5.  My daughter will not let me hold the cereal bowl for her.  She will shriek at me because she can do it herself.  But, when she dumps it all in her lap, she will just as quickly shriek at me to clean it up because it is cold and wet.  Thank goodness my parents have a dog that will Hoover the carpet of things like corn and hamburger.

10.  I can do this.  Ever since Lil' Bit got placed on her meds, we haven't done much traveling.  We did some at Christmas and we went to Chicago for the wedding, but otherwise we have been homebodies.  I have recognized that part of it is that I hate having to try and pack everything we'll need and worry about being gone over med-time.  However, I have taken more outings during the weekends and have been getting more comfortable with figuring out how to do things with Lil' Bit's needs.  This trip, we traveled from Michigan to Indiana, to Tennessee, to another place in Tennessee, back to Indiana, and back to Michigan over the course of a week.  We got Lil' Bit properly and timely medicated every day, got her to eat fairly well, sometimes even nutritiously, didn't break her sleep schedule too much, and even had some enjoyable moments with both our families.  Although there were some rough patches, we returned home with 30 fingers and 30 toes still attached.  That's a win in this house.

As always, it will take several weeks to recover from our "vacation," but it was great to see so much of the family and get to introduce Lil' Bit to many of them for the first time.  It's great to be home, but this trip certainly helped me be less anxious about our next week-long trip--a trip which will likely require me to pack meds of my own :)  But that's also for another time.

Suffering, Blessings, and the Right to Complain

I have been thinking a lot about coveting, complaining, and suffering recently.  It seems to be popping up in conversations, blog posts, and Facebook statuses (stati?) a lot these days.  And as I began to unpack my own personal wants, complaints, trials, and "n't fair" moments, I realized that there might be a way to free myself from some of the frustration and guilt that comes from these feelings.  It occurred to me that coveting something someone else has that I want and being upset because someone who seems to be better off is complaining both come from the same place--I have assessed my position relative to theirs and made a judgment.

Coveting begins by noticing that they have X and I don't and wondering how come they got it and I didn't.  I have judged myself to be equally worthy, maybe better, and wonder why they have received received a blessing I did not.  Similarly, when I get angry about someone else's complaining, it is generally because I have compared myself to them and judged that what they have is better than what I have, so they have no right to complain.  I am well aware that none of these thoughts is terribly productive, but it hasn't stopped me from having them throughout my life.  However, I think I've stumbled on a way to let some of them go--stop comparing myself and give myself permission to complain.  My best examples of where this came into play for me is, surprise surprise, infertility and parenting.

People suffering with infertility often live in a black hole.  All the joy in the world can get sucked down this hole and the world becomes a horrible place that doesn't make any sense and certainly isn't fair.  When we see people get pregnant easily, we wonder how come we have to have it hard.  When mothers who have already shown they cannot take care of children are given more, we are left to question whether anything makes sense.  And when someone who is pregnant complains about morning sickness, we hear the snotty voice inside our head say, "You don't know how good you have it.  I would kill to have morning sickness."  But, here's the problem with that thought.  Some who struggle with infertility do get pregnant.  And, some of those folks end up suffering from hyperemesis.  But now, we've backed ourselves into a corner.  We've lost the right to acknowledge our own suffering.  We can't complain because we got exactly what we asked for.  And, worse, having been that woman, we know that if we complain, other people will judge us for it.  We know we won the infertility lotto and now we have to walk this crazy line being ridiculously happy, acting as though there is nothing to complain about with pregnancy, and not being too happy lest we be seen as rubbing it in the noses of our fellow infertility strugglers who we know just want the opportunity to feel miserable, too.  Our problem is that we shifted places on the continuum and our perspective is different from this view.

A similar struggle occurs with parenting.  All kids are different.  Some people get kids who are easy.  Some people get kids who are hard.  Some people get one kid at a time.  Some people get four.  And some of us get children with special needs.  We once again find ourselves on a continuum, comparing ourselves with other parents and our children against other kids.  We want to talk about our struggles with what is hard or be proud of our achievements, but we worry that others are saying in their head, or even out loud, "You think that's bad, my kid does x..." or "You're so lucky.  I wish my kid would do y..."

And what I came to realize (remember?) is that everything in life is a continuum.  In any given aspect--upbringing, education, employment, medical needs, wealth, whatever--there will always be someone who has it better than I do, and someone who has it worse.  I can spend my time wondering why I got what I did and someone else has it better or worse, or I can acknowledge that we all live, suffer, rejoice, and experience life differently.  By doing so, I give myself permission to acknowledge and seek comfort for my own suffering when it occurs.

This requires more work on my part, however, because I must do the same for others.  Whenever I see someone who is suffering, whether I consider them better or worse off, I need to remember to be thankful for what I have, and try to provide them comfort.  Because, when it comes time for me to seek comfort, I won't know where on the continuum the person to whom I am speaking has placed me.  And, who knows, I could be wrong.  My assessment of their place on the continuum may be way off.  But, even if I'm right, it doesn't get me anything, whereas providing comfort to someone who is suffering, regardless of their station, makes a difference.

For me, it's not that I suffer more or less, or have more or less, than someone else.  It's that what I have and experience is different, which makes comparisons useless.  Comparisons work when things are roughly equal--apples to apples, and all that.  But comparing ourselves to other people is like comparing cherries to cantaloupes; fish to carrots; or even muffins to shirts.  We are often too dissimilar for the comparison to have any real meaning.  And even if we find someone who's similar enough to call another apple, there are so many different kinds of apples, each with its own unique qualities.  We don't demand that one apple be everything to all people.  We don't tell the Granny Smith that it's inadequate because it's not a Gala.  We use different apples to eat raw than we do to make pie or applesauce.  And, from the apple's perspective, the Golden Delicious doesn't care that it's not a Honey Crisp.

I believe that God creates us differently because he has different needs.  We have different experiences because we need to be molded differently to fit where He needs us.  And, I think that He shakes His head and wonders why we spend so much time comparing ourselves to others when He worked so hard to make us all different in the first place.  And I am reminded that God calls us to Him when we are suffering--"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."  Matthew 11:28.  He calls us all and promises to listen to our suffering and provide comfort without judgment.  All of us.  Those above and beneath.  Us and them.  It's time I start trying to do likewise.