I can be very self involved.

Yeah yeah yeah - this is a blog and it's whole existence is to let people talk about themselves and their feelings and all that. I'm not disagreeing with that at all. Blogs are naturally going to be all about someone's live - be it themselves or their family or their political views, etc. It'll be about what is going on in ~their~ live and what is important.

And the reason I bring up the obvious is that it was through my own blogging that I ended up connecting with a whole network of other bloggers going through exactly what I'm going through. (how's that for a run-on?).

This was not my first blog. I had a blog for just over the year mark when I deleted the whole thing in a fit of anger. I had hundreds of posts just ~gone~ in an instant. The situation that got me to delete was childish in nature, but the way I handled it was also childish. I received a lot of antagonizing comments and I took them hook, line and sinker. Not proud of this tidbit, but I did do it. And when my own creation got to be too much for me, I took my toys and went home. See? Dumb. My first encounter with the Brazilian wax is lost forever. My first 9 months of ttc#3 are gone forever. I certainly paid for my behavior. That's for sure.

Anywho, right before I deleted my first blog is when it all started. I had begun to get a few comments from IFers who found my blog by chance and through linkbacks, I found this community. I made my way back to Mel and her blogroll and I got on that list immediately. Then, of course, I had to change the link to this url, my new blog, but that was just a blip in the ttc blogworld.

I started to focus my blog writing on my ttc journey because that is where I was at the time. I was coming up on my year mark and it was bringing me a lot of stress. I went into trying to conceive with the notion that there was no way I could do the long haul again. But after being around all of your stories, the 18 cycles it took for #1 seems comparatively easy. While 18 cycles isn't a walk in the park, I now focused more on being lucky than being the IF victim.

My "18 cycles" mark seemed so far away. And now I'm currently in the 2ww of C16. I'm very close to the place where I said I wouldn't be able to go again. What scares me even more is the "after 18 cycles" place is unknown to me. I defined my (in)fertility as disease that lasted 18 months. I always considered it to have an ending point, something I foolishly enjoyed. I have always tried to put myself in the shoes of a primary IFer, but the biggest difference was they didn't know when their disease would get better. And while I never said it aloud, I had an endpoint. 18 cycles. I honestly thought that was the limit for me and I would achieve another pregnancy before that.

And now I approach it and I know so much more about infertility. I've said it yet I haven't understood it yet. I may not conceive again. 18 cycles is not when I am magically cured of my disease. And while I am dealing with unknowns, I do have an ending point. I have 7 more cycles before I close up shop. There will be a new upper limit of 23 cycle when it's all said and done. And this time, I may not have a swelling belly to show for it.

Having a limited amount of tries has caused me to be more emotional with each failure and more anxiety with each new try. Back when ttc#1, while I didn't know if I'd ever get pregnant, I was still "young(er)". At that time, I didn't have a self-imposed age limit where I would hang up my gloves. This age limit came about for other reasons than for the simple fact of my age. We have other, very important reasons for stopping when I turn 36. I will admit we can afford "quitting" because we already have two children. If we were still ttc#1, I'm sure I would keep trying until menopause (or any other infertility condition) took the chance away from me.

I feel more emotionally tied to each cycle now. Which makes for a more self involved Nancy. A missed chance then meant another month trying. A missed chance now means a cycle lost. This self involvement is manifesting in ways I don't like. I have always been a wordy commenter at times on other people's blogs. If there is something I have experience with, I'm going to take the time to share it in the hopes that I can help. But I've found myself starting to compare my situation when trying to support someone else. I've found myself saying things like "at least you get to do x and y. X and y are impossibilities for me."

AARRRGGHHHH!! I hate that! Who cares what my possibilities are? When someone needs support, they need support. They don't need to be compared to what I'm going through. I'm doing the exact thing I can't stand when done to me. It's no different than the snarky comment of "well, at least you have children, I don't" I sometimes get.

At least I'm aware of it. I'm trying to make sure I don't do it anymore. And I know it gets through and I hit "submit comment" before I really consciously think about it. Heck, it just happened last night and I deleted it and re-wrote it this morning. When commenting to someone, I want to leave me out of it, unless something in my experience can be beneficial to them. Self involvement blows and my New Year's resolution, 3 weeks late, is to remove myself from someone else's support. I can say "sorry" without telling them how my situation is better or worse. I can congratulate someone without mentioning how they are lucky because it didn't work for me. I resolve to focus on other people, instead of myself. My blog will still be about me, as that is what blogs are for. But that is where it needs to stop.

A sweet surprise.

It was a few months ago and I have been meaning to tell this story, but I'm only now sitting down to get it into words.

It's funny how I work. The more important things are what I put aside while I do the unimportant. I have an inbox sitting full of emails I want to take the time to answer, while I read and post about daily horoscopes and tarot cards. I say to myself that I want to make sure I do the important things when I am in the right frame of mind to focus on an appropriate response. But then I'll write a bajillion inane blogs about nothing. But, this is me and I can't fight it. But I digress.

A few months ago, actually more than just a few, I got one of those little slips in my mailbox letting me know there was a package for me. I didn't recognize the return address so I had no idea what it was. I'm a big online shopper though, so it could be anything. Except my mailman usually leaves these types of packages at my door, so it added to my surprise.

It ended up being a small package and once it my hands, I still didn't know who it was from. It wasn't until I opened it when I learned it was from a dear online friend, Jewels. What it contained shocked me so much I burst out crying right there, standing at my car in the parking lot at the post office. I was visibly shaken, as I was asked by someone if I was okay. All I could say was "It's just so nice" as the man smiled back at me, knowing I was okay.

This is what my little package contained:

With these gifts, I received this letter, reprinted with her permission (and as you read it, this was back when I was first diagnosed with a broken oven - my uterus was filled with scar tissue and my surgery had proven to be unsuccessful):

"Dear Nancy,

I hope this reaches you in good condition. I'm sending you this gift as a part of who I am, I may be different from a lot of the ladies and you might find me extremely strange, however, I am who I am so my gift is part of that.

Inside you will see a bracelet made of Tiger Stones. I picked the tiger stones in a bracelet form because it is one of the most powerful healing stones for the reproductive organs.

There is a white stone (Moonstone). I picked this one for you because it was the only one that had an injury, a crack going right through this beautiful stone, and yet it is held strong together. The moonstone helps the healing of the reproductive system and is excellent for PMS and conception.

Then there is the orange-ish brown stone (Carnelian). I liked this stone because it had the remnants of a dark scar deep within the stone and yet this stone looks healed, it resembles a perfect shape, color and texture.

Last, there is a fertility charm, a woman representing fertility.

I give you these things because you genuinely are in my thoughts and prayers. You are a beautiful woman and mother and I pray for your womb to mean and heal, to become that perfect shape and texture, as you say it, for your oven to work so you can back your perfect rolls.

Okay, I'm done being a good. I do hope, if anything, you just know you're loved. This is not a gift from me, it's a gift to represent all the women who love you."

And queue tears..... Now!

I'm sure you can see why I was so touched. Julie is going through her own IF adventures and she stopped and thought of me. What made this even more moving was how the things she picked was so poignant. To show me how there were things out there so perfect and beautiful, only to see a scar at closer examination - it just stunned me.

This little package meant more to me than you could imagine. I carry this gift with me wherever I go. I put them in a little pouch, which I keep in my handbag always.

So thank you Julie. For you are an amazing woman and I hope your life is blessed in the same ways you bless our lives. You said in your letter that you were being a "goof", but I can tell you that you are ~far~ from being a goof. You are a kind soul. You have brought a brightness to anyone who has had the pleasure to cross paths with you.

When did I become "that woman"?

I've mentioned my upcoming IVF plans a few times recently. Here, in private conversations and on some private and public message boards. And I talk about how it's so strange that I'm ~here~ and already in the pre-authorization process. Like it's NO BIG DEAL to have IVF coverage.

Do you know that I've been insanely jealous of women with coverage for years? Even when IVF wasn't in part of my plan? Although I must admit that I would have probably gone for IVF earlier in ttc #1 and now for #3 if I had coverage - so I've always been a little miffed that IVF wasn't an option for me because I just couldn't see spending $12,500 out of pocket.

But seriously - whenever I saw anyone mention their IVF coverage casually, I got a little pissed off. I wanted each and every women WITH coverage to add onto each and every WORD about their IVF coverage with the caveat - "and I count my blessing everyday for this coverage because I know I am one of the few with coverage".

It's like I wanted covered people to bow down and feel humbled for the coverage they have. I ~know~ this is unfair though and it's why I never verbalized it to anyone. I would never ever of scoffed at anyone for not saying how they were lucky, although I know I quite frequently would have to add in "you sure are lucky" to any of my comments to these people.

And here I am. With coverage. Talking about it. Without the caveats. Just talking about it like it's normal. Good lord, I suck big monkey assholes. I do. And I'm sorry. I've become her. THAT girl with coverage. Who isn't visibly counting her lucky stars (but believe me, they are being counted more than you could imagine).

Quick question. Is IVF covered for Candians? I know general health care is covered, but what about IVF? Can any Canadian just get IVF for free? Meds too?

Along these same lines about the ~need~ I've felt for women to humble themselves for their good fortune, hHave I mentioned how I've recently become free from the non-humbling actions of fertiles? For so long, it's bothered me that girls who got pregnant easy and had no views into the IF world weren't falling all over themselves with the knowledge they dodged a bullet. I've always known they wouldn't be able to understand how IF feels, but I always thought they should not only know, but they should SHOW they understand just how lucky they were to conceive easily.

I finally came to an understanding how I can't hold this against them when they really have no idea "it" even existed. It was pompous of me to think my feelings and journey should be sought out and understood and coddled when they wouldn't even know to begin to look for it. Although, once I explain it to them, I think my journey should be respected. For example, after I explain 35 months of my life has been spent TTC, they shouldn't respond with "Sucks to be you! Only took 3 months for me to get 3 kids!".

Yes, I have talked about this before because now I remember my example. It's like someone who loses their ability to walk. This person may be quite pissed off that everyone takes walking for granted. But for most, walking IS something we take for granted because we have had no opportunity to think otherwise. However, if we become aquainted with the issue, suddenly walking is something that is hugely on our minds and never again will we take it for granted.

And that is how I have to think about fertiles. Until they have a reason, I can't expect them to know.

Why am I explaining all of this when I'm just trying to explain that I understand just how lucky I am right now? Who am I equating myself with? The person who just innocently doesn't know about something? The person who is annoyed that someone else isn't humbled? Or am I the person who has been explained the situation, yet I say something really lame back?

I think I am trying to say that I feel like I may look like that last person, but I swear, I'm not. I know just where I am right now and I understand the gravity of it. It's not something I'm taking for granted. And I should be careful not to make it sound like I am.

It is understood, right?

I've seen so many other posts on the subject. From what I started with Primary vs Secondary Infertility.

I wasn't making a comparison between the two and how all people feel.

I wasn't saying anyone's life is better or worse between the two.

I wasn't saying anyone's pain is worse.

What I did say was I could compare my pain of ~not~ getting what I want(ed) at the time. The pain ~I~ felt when #1 wasn't coming is exactly the pain ~I~ feel when #3 isn't coming.

I never said I wasn't happy with what I have.

I never said ttc#1-ers, after long journeys, should feel the same as me. In fact, I said they most likely would not.

What I did say was the pain of the disappointment ~feels~ the same to ME. In the journey my life took me on.

So WHY did I write it at all? I simply tried to point out to those who may not understand how secondary infertiles can feel badly or even maybe WHY secondary infertiles should get a bit of support when needed too. Based on how I felt. That we're not all lollipops and roses holding a BFN, again, while another child calls us from the other room. That BFN hurts. And the disappointment sucks. And the WANT is the same.

I saw some comments that seemed to misrepresent my original comments and I just wanted to make sure I explained to anyone who may come back.

I felt both primary and secondary IF (in my little way). So I can comment, with some certainty, on how I felt/feel. I can't comment how anyone else in the entire world feels.

And to be honest, it's not even how I felt when I was primary. Back then, I would have argued my own conclusions (again, in my own journey), till the cows came home. So everyone not agreeing with me was completely expected. I just hope that no one was offended by my description of how ~I~ personally feel. Actually, I don't think it'd be possible to be offended because I never mentioned how anyone else should feel. Simply how it felt to be me.