What a Difference 12 Days Makes

I originally planned to write this followup to my previous post a week and a half ago (or at least last week). But, as always happens, I don't leave myself enough time to verbally knit something that does my feelings justice. So, now I find myself overwhelmed with all the catching up I have to do, hoping my recollections are strong enough to capture all I want to say.

The short version:
I'm out of my funk and Mike and I are in the planning stages for our next IVF cycle.

The long version:
Where do I begin?
When I wrote my previous post, I was in my all-too-familiar place of "it'll never happen" and "we're not moving forward." And I also hated the fact that I was becoming much too comfortable with these moods. I was the perpetual guest of honor at my own pity party. I hated it, and yet I drew comfort in it, too.
When I got home from work the day I wrote that woe-is-me post, Mike was ready for me. He was cooking dinner (nothing new, as he is the cook in our little family, but he was making a special meatloaf meal), he had the dining room table set (we usually just eat in the den in front of the TV), the lights dim, candles burning and soft music (Michael Buble) ready to go. I got a big hug, and he poured me a glass of wine.
Once we were well into eating dinner, we started to talk. Mike apologized for what he said was his absence of forthrightness when it came to his feelings about trying to conceive. He told me once again how he wants us to have kids, and to be able to move on with our next IVF, but he said he was sorry for not really conveying to me his deep fear that came along with it. He said, as he has before, that his health history brings to our struggle an element that most couples don't have. In our mere 30s, we've had to face the issue of mortality in a way most young people don't. Having kids for us isn't just about creating a family, but about potentially setting up our child(ren) to be without a father. He's afraid of not only leaving me, but leaving a child. He doesn't want to be "that guy in the picture." It was the most honest talk we've had about all this, and it caused the tears to stream down my cheeks. It was an apology I appreciated, but never felt was necessary. We both have that same fear, even if we don't verbalize it.
That said, I asked him again if he is sure he wants to have kids, and he assured me he does. He said he also doesn't want to nix having a family, then turn to me when we're in our 60s and say, "Sorry, I guess we could have had kids after all." Life is a risk. Life is about chances. We just have to decide which chances are worth taking. We agreed moving forward towards having a family is worth it.

Once we both felt we'd been clear about our feelings and our goals, Mike opened a folder with notes he'd made during the day. He wrote down all different possibilities for insurance plans. We've agreed that the best course of action is to take out a secondary insurance plan, with just me on it, and utilize the IVF treatment coverage from that policy. Mike had made calls to a reputable company and took notes about different plan choices, and we went over them. Monthly costs, deductibles and their pros and cons were all covered during our talk. It was finally starting to feel real. A plan was taking shape and my shoulders were getting lighter. This was what I was hoping for all along: a plan. I just wanted things to be happening to make me feel like we were serious about our dream, and that we were taking steps to make it come true. It reminded me of a scene from one of our favorite movies, "Apollo 13," when the astronauts are stranded and, after a few days, are getting restless to receive their rescue plan from Houston. Tom Hanks' character, Jim Lovell, finally realized they needed a plan -- any plan -- to keep them going, and said: "Uh, Houston.... we just can't throw this together at the last minute. So here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna get the procedure up to us, whatever it is, and we're gonna go over it step by step so there's no foul-ups. I don't have to tell ya we're all a little tired up here. The world's gettin' awfully big in the window." At the risk of sounding dramatic, the world is getting awfully big in my window. My window is time -- decreased fertility in the coming years, getting older, family members getting older.
Mike now understood how important this was for me, and I understood how much his fear affected him.

Over the next few days and week, we talked about the insurance plans, made some phone calls, and looked into a few different clinics. We agreed it was important to get to Mike's one-year-post-transplant mark in January, so we will plan to have everything ready to go for a February/March cycle. I e-mailed my acupuncturist and told her I'd like to resume treatments in December. I bought some prenatal vitamins and started taking them. (It's amazing how having a little bottle that says "prenatal" can make me feel so close to being pregnant.) Although I've been pretty sure we should go with the new clinic I saw in the spring, I started collecting feedback from a few people on other possibilities. That brought me down to two finalists.
Then, it happened.
One night last week, as I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, I started to pray. I asked God to lead us in the decision about how we're trying to proceed. I asked him to clear away some of the confusion and show me which clinic we should use, which one was best. The following day, I received an e-mail from a casual friend I met last year. (I had e-mail her the previous week just to see how she was doing, and finally she wrote back.) I knew she battled infertility as well. She went on to tell me that she was now pregnant and due in December. Not being able to recall what clinic or doctor she used, I asked if she was familiar with either of the two places we were considering. This is the e-mail she sent back (I didn't change the caps):

"Defintetly the [clinic name, the one I've been leaning towards]. I recommend [doctor's name] My doctor!! He's the best!! TRUST MEEEEEE."

I wrote her back and told her about how we've been trying to decide, and how I had prayed the night before about helping me choose. She replied:

"Definately TRUST ME!!!! This place is the BEST! I know when you pray, and believe answers all point in the right direction.... always!"

I just got "that feeling" after her e-mails. I just saw the "TRUST ME" in all caps repeatedly and it was like God was speaking through her words. And all this after I'm always telling Mike I never hear God or hear from God. I guess He used my friend. I called that place today and scheduled our first consultation for November 13, our fifth wedding anniversary.

Things finally feel like they're moving. I feel renewed. I feel like I can finally look at a calendar and say with fairly good certainty when our cycle will be. After such a long drought, I've finally been given a few drops of water to quench my thirst until I can drink.

This parting shot below is compliments of my mom. When we visited her over the weekend, she showed us a baby gift she'd gotten us several years ago. She's been holding it until our first little one makes his or her appearance. Paying homage to our athletic and sports fan sides, the outfit definitely fits.

It looks big in the picture, but this is only an 18-month outfit. I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is our first baby gift!