I blame the donors!

I love my little Maddie. I really, truly do. She is such a delight. She is my shopping buddy. She is my little cuddle bug. She is also my little tornado!! This kid can get into places I never thought possible. Kind of like a mouse. She can squeeze into the tiniest of spaces. She can also make messes faster than any natural disaster. And if you tell her no? Watch out!! She will throw her head back and holla! She is one strong willed child. She is determined to destroy my phone, demolish my remote and completely tear up my kitchen. And this includes the dog food and the dog water.

I can't tell you how many pieces of dog food I can taken out of her mouth. And the water. Oh, the water!! We change clothes 2-3 times a day just from the dog water.

When she is this little terror we blame the donors. Cause we were both perfect kids and there is not way that she got her bad behavior from us! All of the good though? That's me! But this little hellion in the making...it's all them! ;-)

Maddie also has a shoe obsession. A serious one! She has a basket of shoes in her room ans she will sit there for an hour just trying on shoes. She also wears our shoes and tries to put shoes on us. Trying to get her dressed in the morning is becoming a challenge because I cannot find a matching pair of shoes. And not like matching her outfit, but matching each other. I find shoes in cabinets. I find shoes under the couch. I find shoes in the dog food. I find shoes in my purse. It is ridiculous! But oh so cute to watch!!

You would think that will all of this chasing and hunting I am doing that I wouldn't be fat. But yep, still am! But that could be from the cupcakes.......

Facing my demons

**This post is about childhood sexual abuse**

When I was a child my stepfather's dad molested me. There. I said it. It is in black and white for the whole world to see. There is much about the abuse that I do not remember. I am fairly certain that I have repressed memories and I have seen a counselor about it. She counseled me to allow the memories but not to dig for them. There is one incident that has always been very clear to me, but the rest is hazy. For some reason I think that it lasted for two years, from ages 5 to 7. I am not sure why I think that was the age, maybe my subconscious mind is telling me that. I remember a few things that happened along with this main one mentioned before. I am not sure why I remember this one so clearly. I can close my eyes and recall the truck he drove, his hand on my thigh as we pulled out of our driveway, the blue nightgown I was wearing with a raccoon and a rainbow on it, the room I slept in there, him pacing the hallway before he entered my room, and him touching me.

Why am I telling you all this now? Because on Monday I may see him for the first time since my mother discovered the abuse. He will be at my step dad's funeral. I am not afraid of him, but I am not looking forward to seeing him. The very thought of sharing the same air as him repulses me. I prefer my memories to stay buried and I do fear that it may not remain this way if I see him again. My counselor warned me that when Maddie hits the age that I was when the abuse occurred that the memories might return and I am prepared for that, but I was not prepared for it to happen now.

I could avoid the funeral. There is not real need for me to be there. He was not my father by blood. He became a despicable person and was no longer the man I knew. But the truth is I loved that man. Before the drugs and alcohol he was am amazing father! I want to honor that man. Also, by not going I will be giving my abuser power and that is not acceptable to me. He has no power to hurt me ever again. I doubt that he even remembers me. And even if he does, so what? I turned out great! He did not ruin me!! His abuse has left some scars but did not destroy me. I refuse to give him the victory.

Now, with all that said, I do realize that this will not be easy. I posted this for two reasons, the first being prayer. Please pray for me! The second is because I am not alone. Sadly, too many of us were abused as children and carry shame. But there is nothing for us to be ashamed about. We did NOTHING wrong. We are innocent. This post is my way of taking back the power and gaining strength for this day. But mostly it is for the prayer!!

Why do you blog?

I was thinking about blogging the other day wondered why we all do it? Is it narcissism? For educational purposes? A form of therapy? For me it is a few reasons. My blogging journey began as a way to chronicle my embryo adoption journey and to meet other EA mommas. Later it became a way to reach out to others going through infertility and to educate those unfamiliar with EA. Now it is also about relationships. I have "met" some really amazing woman, all in different places, yet all with a common bond. And I feel like you are all "family". Kind of like sisters!

So why do you blog?

honoring the dishonorable

Today my dad passed away. Not my real dad, but the only dad that I had ever known. My mom grew up in an abusive home. So abusive that she sought any means to escape and getting pregnant at 16 and getting married was her ticket out. At 16 she became pregnant with me and got married shortly thereafter. Life with him was no better than the one she left and when I was a year old she packed a bag and returned to the home she ran away from. My "father" refused to give her any of her stuff or mine and she had just a diaper bag and an overnight bag of clothes. She had nothing. She was also determined that she would do right by me and give me the best life that she could. She worked hard and eventually was able to rent a small trailer on a quiet, dead end street. A neighbor lady babysat me and I called her Maw Maw. She was the grandmother I did not have and her husband my Pap Paw and they loved me dearly. At the end of the road there was a house that had construction work being done and a young man on the crew that noticed my mom. Gary was a hard working, honest man that quickly fell in love with not only my mom but me as well.



I instantly became his shadow. Where he went, I went. What he did, I did. I "worked" with him and we played together.



And he treated my mom like royalty. He bought groceries when there was none. He showed her how to not just care for me but to enjoy being a mother, something that was foreign to her. Eventually my mom became pregnant and at that time Gary became my "dad" as well. He moved her to a bigger place and we soon became a family of four and then later a family of five. Never once did Gary make me feel anything other than his child. I was closer to him than my sister was as we had so much in common. I have many memories of our time together. One of which was that we loved to watch Incredible Hulk and he used to color my face with green chalk.



Gary sounds too good to be true. He was. Sadly, Gary had a drinking problem. He was a happy man and an even happier drunk. He was one of those that were able to drink a 6 pack and you would never know it. But as the years passed his drinking increased. It rarely interfered with his daily activities or work but it still became a source of contention between him and my mom. But that was nothing compared to the drugs he was introduced to when I was 8 years old. I distinctly remember the change in him. My happy, healthy dad became a paranoid, scary monster. He began to steal from neighbors to feed his addiction. He spent the grocery money on his habit. It was at this time my mom had had enough and Gary was kicked out. It took a year or two to finally get him out of the house permanently, but life as we knew it was over. Gary was gone.

Gary later married a woman that accepted him, drugs and all. She enabled him and he loved her for it. They lived in a run down trailer that was not fit for humans. On the rare occasions that we did see him he hardly remembered us. And we barely recognized him. Then yesterday we got a call that he was in the hospital. He was dying and had been put on hospice care. My sister and I decided to go and see him one last time. He was a hardly more than a corpse. His eyes were open but he was in a coma. His wife said that he had showed no signs of recognition or response to anyone for several days, but that he most likely could hear us if we wanted to talk to him. My sister could not bring herself to do so but I did. I said "Dad, Boo and I are here to see you." Instantly his hand moved and he tried to talk. He heard me. He knew me. And my heart was broken. Broken for what could have been. Broken for the man he had become. I continued to talk and he showed a bit more response and then it was over. We said our good byes and cried as we left. We got the call today that he was gone.

The Bible says to honor our parents but he was not worth honor. He was not a father to me anymore. Yet I loved him. I showed what honor I could by saying goodbye and I will attend his funeral. While it was difficult to show him anything other than disdain I will always be thankful for those few moments. That moment that said he knew me and that he loved me.

How many kids would you have had?

If we lived in a perfect world where all uteruses worked, all eggs of excellent quality floated down the fallopian tube each and every month, and all spermies were present and accounted for happily swimming upstream....How many littles would you have had? What were your original plans back when you were blissfully naive? Would you have had a house full? Just one or two? Nineteen like you-know-who? And now that your dreams and plans have hit the roadblock we fondly call infertility has that number changed?

For us we had "planned" at least 3 children but would have had up to 5 if we could afforded to have that many. I still want three. I am not really sure why, I just picture three kiddos. Maybe because I grew up in a home with three? I don't know. I do know that if we do not have twins the next time that the likelihood of three is slim to none as I will be at least 35 (though closer to 36) when the next one is born and that is best case scenario. That would mean being 38+ for #3. Not unheard of. Not really all that old to have a baby, but it is too old for me. I would prefer not to have a baby that late. I am soooooo tired at 34 that I just don't see being 38 and doing this again. But you never know, I just might! It all depends on how FET #2 goes. And when it happens.

pangs of jealousy

As infertiles we often find ourselves surrounded by big, round, baby bumps. Bumps that do not belong to us. I am once again finding myself in the midst of a bunch of prolific uteruses. Some of which are very close to home. My sister. I am genuinely happy for her and glad to actually be excited and share in her pregnancy this time. But I am jealous!! She found out the that baby #2 is a girl on Friday and felt her move on Saturday. I immediately felt.....empty. My womb aches to carry another life. Yes, I am immensely thankful for even just one opportunity to get to experience pregnancy. But said experience has made me want it even more.

I am sad that I still feel this way. I want to be happy and nothing else. I don't want to feel sadness and disappointment. I wish that I could fold my arms, nod my head and POOF! Infertility would disappear. Or a baby would appear. Either would work for me.

A few weeks ago I had begun looking into clinics for our next FET. I spent about 2 days with this and decided to put it on the back burner until Maddie's surgery (which is the 19th of this month). After that I will begin calling clinics again. Also, we have been contacted by a couple interested in donating their embryos and they are considering us. I have absolutely no idea if this will work out and we are waiting on Him to lead us and the other couple. It is a huge decision for them and we want them to be completely certain that this is what they want to do and that we are the right family. Until then we are proceeding forward with clinics that have ED programs. And after Christmas we hope to get serious about our next cycle. Well, that is unless I need surgery. Remember my mono? Well, my tonsils are still swollen even after a round of steroids. I may need them removed. *GULP!* I am soooooo not looking forward to this! If I have to have surgery I will wait until January (cause of my deductible) and then once I heal begin plans for the FET.

So until then I will swallow my pangs of jealousy and enjoy what all that God has done for us!

Our crackbaby

I swear this kid is on crack! Or cocaine. Or something of that nature. Having never tried the stuff myself I really don't know the difference. I just know that Maddie is going 90 to nothing with no end in sight. She has emptied my cabinets, dumped the dog's food, dumped her cereal, emptied her diaper bag, knocked about 100 pieces of paper off my table, taken every shoe out of her bin, dumped the dog's food a second time, and emptied both toy boxes. And that is all since she got up from her nap at 4:00. I am tired just reading about it all! She is currently running through the house screaming. At nothing. Just screaming and laughing. I think that she likes the sound of her voice.

I have to say though that I prefer this kid at warp speed than the tantrum thrower from yesterday. I swear someone snuck into her room and switched kids with me. My sweet Maddie now throws herself to the floor when angry, pinches me if I remove her from something, screams if I say no, and all of the other fun toddler characteristics. Her terrible twos have started a year early.

But even with her bi-polar ways I love this kid. She is a blast to have around, even with her tantrums. And constant messes. Now we just need a sibling for her. Maybe next year.