Easy Silence

I've entered into this odd, almost Zen-like stage of queasy, sleepy quietness. Simply put, I don't have much to say. I've witnessed this with many other infertiles' blogs. In the depths of my own infertility, I couldn't imagine having nothing to say. I was astounded that these women could lapse into silence. How am I no longer privy to their innermost thoughts, especially at a time when I want to share in their joy? Embrace their celebrations?

And yet, here I am...or not, essentially. It seems I've got nothing but crickets in my blog lately.

I've spend a lot of time analyzing this. Why so quiet, Jacki Jaguar? I haven't really pinpointed any solid answer yet, but I have a few ideas bouncing around.

1) I'm pretty damn tired. Once I'm done work, I'm generally useless for the rest of the day.

2) My thoughts are so disjointed lately. In my infertility, I recognized so many poignant moments, snapshots that captured my thoughts and feelings perfectly. Something would happen and right in the thick of the moment, my main thought would be: I have to write about this. But now, now things are different. I'm still working on wrapping my head around this pregnancy, still processing that I've crossed this enormous hurdle in my life. It's like I can't get my own thoughts together even in my head, let along type out anything remotely cohesive.

And so, I guess I'm asking you to bear with me. I'll be back with something funny or heartwarming or just plain sad at some point, but that point just isn't right now.

Here's some other quick follow up stuff:

~ I didn't keep the dog who went to crappy counselor therapy with me. I found Brownie's owners and he was happily reunited with them later that same day.

~ I did not go back to crappy Beverly for more crappy counseling and I did speak with the intake counselor about the fact that Beverly is not your go-to girl for all things infertile, or anything infertile for that matter. Beverly will however always have a small but special place in my heart as a fellow dog lover.

~ Sadly, my co-teacher's IVF was not successful. And so now, we're gradually making our way through dealing with my pregnancy, in some ways together and in some ways on our own.

Last but not least, this week is INFERTILITY AWARENESS WEEK (October 19-25). Spread the word, you just may change someone's world for the better.

Late but still sobbing

I heard this song on the radio a few weeks ago and I feel like it's speaking directly to me about my infertility. Every time I hear it, it brings me right back to where I was ten weeks ago, not yet pregnant and feeling so lost. I can't listen to this song without tears.

Broken by Lifehouse
The Broken clock is a comfort
It helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow
From stealing all my time

And I am here still waiting
Though I still have my doubts
I am damaged at best
Like you've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating
In the pain, there is healing
In your name, I find meaning
So I'm holding on, I'm barely holding on to you

The broken locks were a warning
You got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded
I'm an open book instead

And I still see your reflection
Inside of my eyes
That are looking for purpose
They're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating
In the pain, is there healing
In your name, I find meaning
So I'm holding on, I'm barely holding on to you

I'm hanging on another day
Just to see what, you will throw my way
And I'm hanging on, to the words you say
You said that I will, will be okay

The broken light on the freeway
Left me here alone
I may have lost my way now
But I haven't forgotten my way home

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating
In the pain , there is healing
In your name, I find meaning
So I'm holding on, barely holding on to you


I think of a million different things when I hear it. The barely holding on to your day to day life, like how some days you're just going through the motions. And the idea that you feel like this huge part of you has died but you're still here, walking and talking like everything is fine. But also about how we hurt and heal and hurt again. We do gain things along our journey; strength, endurance, empathy. We change, hopefully for the better in the end.

And we wonder, where's God in this whole thing? Is He around and what's He doing? Is this part of His plan or is just He riding this out with us, His arm around our shoulders? And in our darkest moments, many of us wonder where He is at all.

I know this song is talking about holding on to our faith, but I also think of us holding on to our spouses. Our marriages face such huge challenges through infertility. We jump hurdles over and over, only to face more. And sometimes, we're barely holding on to each other because we're so consumed in our own grief.

And so, I guess this post is for my infertile sisters, especially my 6+ nesties. I love you, guys and you're never far from my thoughts.

The leaf turns

and I finally begin to truly let her in. The spotting has stopped. My fear piece of pregnancy seems to have settled down. I still have a wave of 'what if' panic on the way to an ultrasound but I'm pretty sure that's normal. I'm starting to look forward.

I'm in the eighth week of my pregnancy and the super news is that I'm back to work! I went back on Monday on limited activity...sitting as much as possible, no lifting or twisting. This coming week, I won't officially be on limited activity but still have to try to take it easy for one more week. My right ovary at last check was still ten centimeters but the RE seems to feel I've turned the corner. He kicked me out! I'm officially an obstetrician only girl.

Work this week was...a whole new definition of exhausting. A friend was asking me what it's like and I responded that it feels like I'm coming down with something all the time. Like you will probably have to call out of work the next day, but you won't because you're pregnant, not sick. From the moment the alarm goes off, I'm beat. When my mom and I were discussing this, she reassured me that it will only be like this for another month or so. That concept is too overwhelming. At this point I try not to look past tomorrow when I think about work. Still, it's so great to not be stuck on my recliner anymore. It was a crazy, hectic, busy week, but I'm so grateful to be back at work.

My morning sickness seems a bit better now that I'm back on my feet. I definitely have to eat every couple hours and it's worse at night, but smells are no longer bothering me all day long and I'm not having as many food aversions. I think being busy helps because I'm not just laying here thinking about how I feel nauseaus. Currently, my body is not so impressed with the idea of sleeping though it craves it more than anything. You know when you're tired but not sleepy? That's me. I try to nap after work and stare at the ceiling. I go to bed early but remain awake. I randomly wake up in the middle of the night for an hour or two at a time. Good times.

You know what is funny about pregnancy? Everything makes me cry. Things that fertile women do without a second thought leaves me sobbing. At my first OB appointment, the nurse brought me this big baby-decorated bag filled with samples and pamphlets. My response? Crying. Why? Because I get a bag. Not every other women in the office while I leave with some sh!t pamphlet on PCOS or alcohol swabs for my injections. I get the bag. These moments are milestones for me where other women don't even recognize the significance. And you know what? Those moments make me appreciate where I've come from. The long journey makes you so grateful for where you are.