Cycle 22, CD 6

I was so taken aback by the outpouring of love and support after my last post. Saying thank you seems painfully trite. To be honest, I was terrified to write about the dissolution of my marriage. It is topic that typically elicits much judgement.

Truth be told, I am embarrassed. Horrified. Grief stricken.

Part of me wonders what I did to deserve all this. The other part screams back, "Nothing! You did nothing to deserve this." I toggle back and forth every 5 minutes.

So yeah, the bucketfuls of love that came screaming through last week was something I needed very badly. Thank you.

Right now I'm overwhelmed by the logistics: packing, selling our condo, disentangling my life from someone that thought I would be with forever, filing divorce papers, work obligations, finances, contractors, moving, jury duty, being sick. It's all just, so much.

On top of all that there are the emotions. Some days I can ignore them, put my head down and plow forward. Other days, they overwhelm me. Growing up I always said I didn't believe in divorce. I told this to Mike over and over again prior to getting married. Not that I didn't think it was right for others, just not for me. I always thought that if two people loved each other enough, you could work through anything. What I didn't realize is that unless both people work at it, it is not possible.

Mike stopped working a long time ago.

This was not the easy decision.

But it is the right one.

I'm choosing love. Love for myself. My life. My future child.

Cycle 21, CD 23(ish)

When I came around to the idea of starting an infertility blog, I thought long and hard about what to name it. There is so much in a name. I remember sitting on the beach late one November evening, all by myself, mulling over our journey to grow our family. I breathed in the cold salt air. Filtered sand through my fingers. Dried my tears with the back of my sleeve when my face became wet. 

At one point, I thought how easy it would be to drown in those huge waves and sink to the bottom. And in my sullen mood, I realized that is how I felt. I felt like infertility had muted everything. That it was drowning me. All I wanted to do was come up for some air, but I was stuck holding my breath. It was an analogy that made sense to me. Hence, Submerged was born. 

Years ago, Mike and I took a vacation on a remote tropical island. We decided to hire a photographer to take some photos of us- to document our time there. We had already captured some beautiful images together when our photographer asked us if we would be open to taking a few shots in the water. Underwater even.

The photo in my header isn't just any photo. It is the exact moment when Mike and I slipped underwater together. I love how simple that photo is, just a tiny splash and we were gone. It seemed the perfect one to use for this space considering we were on this journey together. And so, the design of my blog was set.

The underwater view of that same photo captured us submerged in those remote waters. It has always been a favorite of mine. So ethereal. So soft. Muted but beautiful. [I'll post it here for now, but will remove it in a few weeks for the sake of anonymity]. 

I was content to stay down there, holding my breath and my husband close. I never would have guessed that this is exactly where we would remain. Suspended and suffocating. But we are mortals and eventually my lungs became too tight. I needed to breathe again. 

My last miscarriage, as painful as it was, opened my eyes. From beneath the watery surface, I finally saw that there was air, light, and warmth in the distance. I knew that if I didn't want to be pulled to the bottom, to become a relic on the ocean floor, I had to make the choice to swim against the tide. Except my husband let go of my hand somewhere along the way, and disappeared into the abyss.

I always thought that Mike and I would resurface together. That we would take that first painful and beautiful breath at the same time; filling our lungs with life and hope until we reached solid ground. Instead I find myself alone. I'm tired, scared, and don't know which direction is up any more, but I will fight to get to the surface with every ounce of strength I have left.

Cycle 21, CD 20(ish)

I'm so sorry for falling silent. It wasn't my intention. Life has been a bit... overwhelming lately. Something had to give. Unfortunately it was my blog writing and reading. So please accept my belated warm, holiday wishes and a genuine embrace for each and every one of you in this new year. I know we are all hoping for a better 2013. Because, well- 2012 can suck it.

To catch up a bit:

- Sometime in mid-December I reached my official 2 year mark. It's been two very long, hard years of trying to grow our family. 2011 was filled with uncertainty, apprehension, and 12 negative pee sticks. 2012 was something else entirely: 3 miscarriages and a whole heap of loss and pain. I know 2013 will bring a different story. I just don't know what that is yet. My expectations aren't deluded or high. I would just be content with some peace.

- I was surprised when my cycle returned so quickly after my D&C. I was impressed with my body's ability to recover (I started a new cycle a mere 2 weeks after surgery). Unfortunately it wasn't that easy. A short fourteen days after I got my first period, I got another. I don't blame my body though- I've been turned upside down too. Dr. D wasn't concerned, so I decided not to be either. I'm sick of worrying about things I can't control.

- You might remember, during my last pregnancy my therapist, Zsa-Zsa, lobbed a few bombs at me. It wasn't cool and knew that I couldn't trust her. But I also knew I was in crisis. Of anything I've ever been through in my life, waiting for that pregnancy to end, for my baby's heart to stop beating, was the single hardest thing I've ever experienced. The anxiety felt like it was being pumped through amplifiers as big as a house. I couldn't breath. I knew I needed professional help. After many failed attempts to find someone covered by my insurance, I turned to the Resolve website. There, I found, Cindy.

Cindy is, in a word, amazing. She specializes in infertility and couples therapy and she is exactly what I needed. I've seen a therapist on and off my entire life- but after meeting with her just once, I felt like it was my first time. My first time with a *real* therapist. She didn't just sit there listening to me vomit out my pain. No. She actually gave me tools to get through it. Things that I could use when I was home alone and felt the walls crumbling. Things that I could use while in my clinic waiting for my second D&C. Things that I'm still using to heal more everyday. She didn't make everything better, she didn't cure my pain, but she helped me survive it- and not let it consume me. I am so thankful for her.

- Trying for baby has been put on hold. I don't know for how long- but it's going to be some time. Healing and closure, in many different ways, has to happen first. More on that later when I can put my thoughts together better.

Much love to you all. I've missed you and hope to return to my regular schedule of writing and reading. This community is amazing and a source of great strength for me.