January Update

This month and year has been rather busy so far with us trying to get all of our adoption stuff done. I have been working on a post about everything that we have been doing that will be finished soon. It's so exciting! I wish I could've got a post out sooner about it but we have had a horrible string of sickness go through our house on and off for the past 3-4 weeks.

So, besides being incredibly busy with the adoption stuff, trying to get unsick, and playing with Max of course, I decided to go ahead and get the 2nd blood test on my next period at the beginning of the month. Apparently, I like to kick myself while I'm down, but I just had to know. We also already knew that know matter the results, it wasn't going to change our decision to adopt. After waiting multiple weeks, until a few days ago, I got a letter in the mail from our RE. To sum it up, the letter pretty much said the results were as crappy as they were last month when I got the blood work done, confirming that I really do have diminished ovarian reserve. My RE said that if we decided to move forward we must know that our chances are slim of even getting more than one follicle, but that they'd be more than willing to work with us again, but a donor egg is preferred. I expected that and am surprisingly not as down about it as I feel I normally am about bad results. I think I'll just always be frustrated, especially when I see so many others make it all seem so easy. Also, just looking back at when I first went to my Ob Dr., like 6 years ago now, about how we weren't getting pregnant and she just kept telling me that it was because I was too skinny and I exercise too much. Even though I kept telling her that I eat way more calories in a day than is probably recommended, I don't work out that much, and that I have athlete friends that have gotten pregnant on their first try. I guess it doesn't matter anymore, except now I feel like their was clearly a logical reason all long, but she never bothered to look more into it.

Also, just adding to my minor frustration, is the fact that since I finished breastfeeding I have had a period every month since. That's like 3 horrible crampy ass periods in a row, and without having to take meds to get one. It just really frustrates me since I've barely had a period for the past 12 years of my life, which don't get me wrong, not getting a period is pretty darn awesome, except of course when you're trying to monitor your cycles to track ovulation so you can get pregnant. Then having a period and regular cycles are pretty darn important. So, as you can imagine my body deciding to actually work when I have made the decision to no longer want to get pregnant or need my little to no remaining eggs, it kind of makes me feel like my body is trying to play some kind of a cruel joke on me. Maybe it'll just decided to go away again soon.......

Another new discussion we have had is on permanent birth control. I actually haven't been on birth control for quite sometime, which might seem silly because their is always the chance it could happen, but it hasn't, and we don't want it to neither. So, Dereck was thinking about getting a vasectomy. it's crazy to think about when our family isn't complete yet, but we know that I'm not going to be carrying a baby again. We also still have sperm cryopreserved if for some reason we do decide to use an egg donor and get another carrier. Just seems crazy that we are at this point already.

How is tomorrow already February?

"Move On"

Surprisingly, that was a comment that was left on my last post about Liam and his 4th birthday. Not sure why people feel the need to leave comments like that, and of course they do it anonymously.
Although, sometimes I fear it's family or a friend. The name of my blog says what it's about. If you don't understand or want to understand where I am coming from or are here to remember my children too, then just don't read it, or at least just don't be an ass hole and leave such a shitty remark.

I hate that I feel I have to even write about this, but I wish people would quit using this stupid phrase. It's about as hurtful as people that try to tell you that I am so strong and they don't think they could've ever have lived through what I have. The thing is that I think I have "moved on" as some want to call it, but maybe just not in the same way as they think I should have. I had an option to make, effing twice at that, to live or die. Now dying wouldn't be moving on, well not in the way I'm talking, nor is just becoming a recluse, or even ending up in the nut house. All options that would have been so much easier. I chose to want to move forward and try to find some joy in life again, and I wanted a family with living children. And I have had to fight damn hard for that. Plus, it's not like the world was going to stop moving forward.

So, yes, I have moved on and I think I have came a hell of along way from where I was 4 years ago when my world was flipped upside down, but I will never, ever stop loving and missing my son or daughter. I am not just going to push my love for them aside like they didn't matter for anyone's sake. They mattered. And if some think they weren't important, stop reading this blog. And also I feel sorry for you. I hope you never know what's it's like to love someone so much and to lose them. And if you're someone I know, then please step forward and let me know who you are so I can delete you from my life.

The Life Of A 4 Year Old Boy

Today 4 years ago is fetal surgery day. More importantly it's Liam's birthday. Four years seems so long ago. So much has happened, seems like a lifetimes worth, not 4 years. So many empty years leaves me with just wondering about the type of boy he'd be today. Having Max now I am getting to see what it's like to watch a child, a son, of mine grow up, but I still wonder how similar or different they'd be from one another. Would he be into cars or superheroes? And school. Would he be in preschool now and by next fall getting ready for kindergarten? Oh and I bet Christmas and birthdays would be just exciting for a 4 year old. Bluhhh......

Today I was looking at old pictures from my childhood. Pictures of me camping with my family, playing with friends, and pictures of me just being silly with the dogs and my sister at home. The common thing in all these pictures I see is how happy I am and how I miss those days of life being so easy. I've always loved these years, that age range from like 3 through about 8-10. I love their imagination. How I miss my imagination and can't wait to see Max fully use it to be anything and do anything he wants. Max isn't fully their yet but Liam would be, and I can only imagine how awesome it'd be. Gahh, do I ever hate that I will never get to see all my kids play together or get any of those happy, at home or camping, goofy, just being kids photos together, ever.

Today and always I am missing you little buddy. I miss all that you would be as crazy little 4 year old boy. Love you forever.