Mary Makes Babies

Dead Ends and Impossible Choices

I'm a big fan of the pros and cons list. I love the idea of writing the facts all down on paper and then being able to clearly, decisively select which course of action to follow.

In my imagination, the pros and cons list cuts the emotion out of hardcore decision making like a jedi slicing through an army of drones.

Only, in real life it isn't quite so effective. At least it isn't anymore. Because now every major decision isn't made just for me. It's made for a little boy who I pretty much worship as 3 foot tall deity.

I find myself up against the wall, being forced to choose from a menu of equally imperfect solutions to the insurmountable problems facing us all right now and I just... can't.

I can't do it.

I'm frozen. I'm stuck.

I feel like my feet are glued to the floor while I watch the weeks and months tick by, bringing us all closer to a point where something is going to break.

For the past year I've focused on collecting options. I've been cultivating choices hoping to paint a clear picture of our future following each possible step. It seemed like a great strategy at first, but every possible solution comes packed with so many complications. To have one thing we must sacrifice another.

What's even worse is that almost every choice on the list depends on far too much luck for my taste. There's no safe bet, only a spectrum of risks from which to choose from.

Our latest and most pressing dilemma involves our fertility doctor. I decided to go and have a consultation to see what he'd have to say about helping us conceive again. I met with the same doctor who helped us have CC and we talked through everything that has happened over the past year and what our options would be moving forward.

He recommended following the same protocol we followed to have CC: using Femara to grow viable eggs, and then ovedril to stimulate ovulation. This time we'd follow ovulation with progesterone supplementation and then follow a positive pregnancy test with shots of Lovenox for the duration of the pregnancy. I'd also start adding methylfolate to my existing daily regimen of low dose aspirin, prenatal vitamins, and DHA.

Sounds good, right? But there is a catch. Beside the fact that we really can't afford to pay for treatments right now, my doctor wants me to stop breastfeeding CC so that I can get my levels re-tested before he assigns a dosage for the medications. He's also concerned about posing a risk to CC if he nurses while I'm being treated.

I have so many feelings about this. First off, I know that CC will not want to wean. He is still fully obsessed with nursing and there is a huge emotional attachment assigned to the act. While I know that we would all survive weaning, I feel awful about putting him through that kind of heartache. I really wanted him to wean on his own. Or, if he didn't wean by three I hoped that he would be emotionally prepared for me to wean him myself by then.

So I started Googling and talking to other doctors and caregivers. It looks like all the drugs have fairly short half-lives, which means I could try just going with the dosage I used last time and take breaks from nursing CC instead of completely weaning him. Of course, that would be no picnic, and if we have to go on week-long breaks he might just wean anyway. Can we handle that?

And don't forget that we still haven't solved our financial riddles. Will we end up moving? Where? How? When? Can my body handle making a baby while we go through all the stress accompanying those decisions?

I just don't know. All I know is that I'm not getting any younger, my problems are getting any further away, and the longer I sit on my decisions the less options I will be left with.

It's time to make some tough choices, and take some big chances. How I'll decide which ones to take, I still have no clue. If only I could channel my inner 20-year old, the girl who wasn't afraid to fail or to hurt, the girl who reveled in leaving old lives behind in search for new ones.

Maybe that's the trouble. I don't want to leave this life behind. I like my life. I just want it to be a little easier, maybe a little luckier, and above all else, I want it to involve more babies. If only it were that simple!

Shrinky Dink

This week I'm working on getting my groove back. I'm back at work, back to writing my book, and working hard on a plan to better care for my mind and body. I spent five out of seven days last week sticking to a strict diet. The weekend involved a pretty heft amount of transgression, but I'm back on track today and trying to stay positive. I had my first session with my brand new shrink this morning. It went well, which was a big relief. It's my first time seeing a male therapist and that made me a little nervous.

I don't have anything against the male gender. Holding a grudge against roughly half the world's population wouldn't be terribly productive, after all. But a lot of the challenges I'm dealing with are so deeply female in nature that I wasn't sure a male perspective could be helpful. Thankfully, I'm able to see a clinical psychologist, so my sessions focus more on my perspective than his.

After countless years of therapy I've learned that there tends to be a big difference in the approach of a psychologist verses a counselor or a therapist. In my experience counselors tend to chatter too much for my taste, and are quicker to suggest solutions or make connections. Some make sarcastic jokes or tell too many personal stories for my liking. Others pushed me into therapy techniques I didn't like or simply rubbed me the wrong way.

I've found that therapy needs to be a safe space for me in order to open myself up and really work things out. The best advice I ever received was to treat the process almost like dating. It won't work with the wrong person, so I've "broken up" with several counselors whose style didn't work for me.

My favorite psychologists have spent most of my sessions listening, and only asking questions or making observations in an effort to nudge me toward making the most important conclusions myself. In fact, they can sometimes frustrate me by not divulging their opinion or trying to solve my problems. It's not what they are there for, after all, and I like being able to trust that they'll keep things professional by not going there.

My first session with "Dr. S." went pretty well. I dished out my most pressing anxieties and traumas without feeling uncomfortable or out of place. Of course, it will take a while before I can really dig in and make progress, but it does feel good to be on the right track. My first assignment was fairly predictable. Dr. S. thinks I need to get more sleep!

I'm meeting with another kind of doctor later this week. On Friday I'll be going to see the same fertility specialist that helped us conceive CC. This round of tests and treatments will be under much different circumstances but I'm hoping that he'll be able to help us again.

I'm still not really emotionally prepared for another pregnancy, but at this point I'm not sure I ever will be. It's funny how there seem to be these universal truths about parenthood. It's never "the right time" to have another baby, no matter how much you might want one. So much of it is out of our hands.

I have to get back to a place where I can allow myself to let go of that illusion of control. The first step is letting go of the pain of past loss, but I'm still having a hard time doing that. I think I keep the pain around as a way to keep Twoleo here with me. It's like I'm afraid to forget her.

Will I ever be able to let her go? Should I let her go? Or is there a way that I can hold her in my heart without having it hurt so much so often?

These questions and more, going on my list for therapy.