Okay, so here goes nothing...

Infertility: (noun)
A medical condition which diminishes self-esteem, your social life, as well as checking and savings accounts. Causes sudden urges to pee on sticks, cry, scream, and an inexplicable fear of pregnancy announcements. Treated by a medical specialist, who you pay to get you pregnant - this does not always work. Affects 1 in 10 couples.

And I might add, does not go away after one successful pregnancy.

Infertility is the gag, the duct tape, the silent shame that is borne by too many women and men. No one talks about it because the idea of not being able to do what teenage mothers do every other day is just outright wrong . . . . and embarassing.

And the worst of it is that it shouldn't be.

Jenny is a product of IVF because I couldn't produce eggs on my own. I have a condition called PCOS - polycystic ovarian syndrome that keeps my insulin resistance in full swing (this makes my diabetes harder to manage), pushes my weight up, and makes me prone to precancer cells in my uterus.

I have never talked about this to anyone who wasn't already going through this themselves. And I suppose I'm doing it now because I found someone else who was hiding it and not talking about it either. And I realized the sadness and the shame of it all is too difficult for one person to bear alone. And perhaps if we all started talking about it, then maybe we could stop hiding.

It is selfish of me to say this, but I love my daughter more than anyone else could possibly love their child. We spent ten very long years waiting for the opportunity to hear the words, "Mom" and "Dad" and while that in and of itself is significant, she is more precious to us because of everything we went through to get her.

Along the journey, people used to say to us "you'll understand when you have children of your own". I find it funny now to say something similar to those who cannot fathom the intense and often conflicting, irrational emotions that are connected to infertility. You would only understand if you'd been through what we'd been through.

So I guess this is my comeback tour - my "coming out" again. Since I cannot get pregnant the natural way, we are again going through the process of IVF and hope to be pregnant within the next several months. Unlike the last time, when I kept my journal to myself, kept the hardships and the pain, the laughter and the inside jokes to myself, I'm opening it up in this blog. I can only hope that my courage holds out and that I'll have more good things to share than bad this time. And in a year, that I'll be holding my daughter or son, knowing that the journey, though not as long and arduous as it was the last time will be marked with reverence and endurance.

And for those of you who follow this to hear about Jenny, don't worry. That child is still doing miraculous things everyday and I'll still be writing about her long after her silbing(s) is/are born.

The Pledge of Allegiance

Jenny despises getting her diaper changed and we are constantly trying to find ways around fighting her because of us usually ends up getting a heel to the throat and it's not pretty.

So I caught Jenny the other day reciting something that sounded like the Pledge and figured it was as good a distraction as any. Daddy was attempting to change a rather filty diaper (the product of carrots, her new passion cauliflower and a week's worth of strawberries because they were on sale at Kroger) and Jenny was fighting him tooth and nail.

So Jenny and I recited the Pledge of Allegiance and I mst say, I'm tickled by the mumbles again - much the same way I was when she was learning the LMNOP part of the alphabet song. She really is the cutest kid in existence - well, at least in this house right now anyway.

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The afternoon naps on the weekend seem to be going away and I'm depressed about it. Selfish as it may be, I need those couple hours to rest and reboot my system so I can get through the rest of the day. Where does that child get the notion of giving up naps on weekends. We're going to have to fix this before the summer because Jenny doesn't do so well without a nap; and neither does her mother.

I'll keep you posted on the progress. Pray for us.

Looking back

I know it's been a while since I wrote about how Jenny has been doing and I will long regret the things I've forgotten already. Still I will do the best I can to keep track of the things my adorable little girl has done since the last post back in December.

It's so funny to think we only got rid of the Binky two months ago. It feels like it's been gone for a lot longer. Jenny never wanted it back and continued to tell everyone we saw - grandma, the bagger at Kroger, and poor Miss Sarah who had to hear about it for several weeks afterward. Looking back, I realize what a huge step this BinkyBeGone thing was. Now, she is speaking more clearly and more fluently than before. She's starting to express her emotions more (this being both a good thing and a frightening one) and I'm not certain (again) that I'll be ready for her to grow up so much.

I watch Kraig and Wyatt and think - my God, was Jenny ever that way? It feels like she's grown up over night and without any influence from us at all. I continuously wonder if what we were as parents at that point was good enough, right enough, to help Jenny become a good person.

There are things that I regret. I regret teaching her to throw tantrums. Yup, that was me. I regret not researching every nutritional thing out there and then figuring out how to make the best of it with her - I mean, how do I know if she's eating too much Chef Boyardee - do we really ever know? And am I stunting her growth or her IQ potential by feeding this poor child hotdogs 4 nights a week?

And then there are things I'm fairly certain that I'm doing right. I hold her and tell her how much I love her. I give her high-fives for being a good helper. I tell her how proud I am of the things she does. I put her in time-out when she's being mean to her doll baby or when she hits. I require that she at least gets fruit and a proteing at every meal. I've introduced her to carrot sticks - not baby carrots, but the sticks because they taste better. And I've given her structure - a framework she can count on - strong and as solid as possible.

The Songs I Can't Forget

We got colors, like 'em a lot. We got colors, like 'em a lot.

While we hunkered down in the bathroom in the center of our house, Jenny invented this song. Over and Over and Over and Over and Over, during the 30 minutes we hid from the tornado.

Oh God, thank you for giving my little girl a beautiful voice. Please help me get this song out of my head so I can sleep tonight. :)

It is truly amazing- the voice of my child. And she loves singing so much right now.

I get snippets from things she learns at preschool:

Jesus loves me and He loves you too. You will never have a friend so true. Come and see how much He cares for you. Jesus love me and He loves you too (and then the whole thing starts over again).

We are thankful (:|) For our food (:|) Each and ev-re-re-re da-ay. You will hear us sa-ay. Thank you God. Thank you God. Aaaaaaa-men! Let's eat.

And I get so tickled by how she's now getting her ABC's totally correct. I used to think it was so cute listening to her do the LMNOP part and how she mumbled through it before. It was amazing when I heard her do it all the way right - I cried (again) because I just can't believe how much she's really grown up.

And she's picking up songs like crazy. We now sing, You are My Sunshine and Puff the Magic Dragon - both songs that she can sing on her own, but both she's willing to share with me.

I know I sound like a broken record, but I'm astounded by her, every day. I thank God on a daily basis for answering my prayers so perfectly. It even makes me slightly paranoid that someone is going to come along and say - well, we made a mistake - she's not really your kid so we're going to have to give her back to her perfect parents who are a famous opera singer and a nuclear physicist (okay, it just took me three tries to spekk that work right).

And then I look at her when she's just getting up from her nap and how she tugs her magic blanket over her ear. And I think, nope this one is definitely mine.

And I hear her little twang in You are my Sunshine and I go, Yup - that's my little girl.

And then she makes up a song about her crayons and markers to help scare away the tornado while we're huddled in the bathroom alone because Daddy's staying safely off the road. And somehow that silly little song, sung at the tops of our lungs, makes it easier to deal with the fear I know we both have because we're trying to be brave during a storm and without Daddy.

We got colors, like 'em a lot. We got colors, like 'em a lot...