always something there to remind me

There has been a very exciting explosion of BFPs on my blogroll lately. Every BFP is a miracle, but it's always extra-super-exciting when they visit women who have been trying for an especially long time. Congratulations to the women at inlocoparentis, two hot mamas and Amy and Melissa. It was with no small amount of pleasure that I relocated you on my sidebar. I hope to move everyone else sooner rather than later. Whenever there is a burst of good luck in the ttc blogosphere, my heart hurts a bit for those still waiting. I think the BFNs carry an extra sting when so many others around you are celebrating. One time, I had five cycle buddies - the most I ever had on a single cycle - and out of the six of us, there were five BFPs. Guess who got the BFN? It was around my eighth or ninth try and I was destroyed. To anyone who wasn't able to catch the latest train out of the madness, I am so, so sorry. I remember the terrible left-behind feeling like it was yesterday. You may or may not want to read this post. It's honest and I hope it will be reassuring because it comes from an emotional place I feared I'd never get to, but it also may be a frustrating read for someone still in the trenches. Please skip it if you're not in the mood.

Elliot has been here for almost three months. I know this is a mere moment in the grand scheme of things and I probably shouldn't be drawing any conclusions yet, but I'm pretty sure that I will always think of myself as infertile. His presence may have taken some of the sharpness out of the pain, but I don't think the dull ache will ever go away. What has changed is that I now have more positive feelings and experiences to add to the balance sheet. Don't get me wrong, they haven't replaced the yucky ones, but at least they are in the mix now. (This is a subject of another post in the jumble of my mind, so more on this later, I hope.) The reason for this shift is simple and his name is Elliot. His presence makes the whole experience more palatable in the most obvious way - the ultimate prize is in hand - but also in a subtler, finer way: He literally is who he is because of what we went through. Had our road to pregnancy taken a single different step than it did, we would not have had HIM and knowing him as I do now, that matters to me.

I now present Exhibit A, demonstrating how I am a happier-but-still-infertile-minded individual: Two love songs have been getting extra airtime on my iPod lately and it's because I've reimagined them both as being written about surviving infertility. Listening to them makes me daydream in photo montages from our first BFN all the way through to the smiling boy I gave eskimo kisses to this morning. They help me to make peace with our journey and feel proud of all we endured. I hope the lyrics can inspire the same warm fuzzies for some of you, if not now, then soon. Please, soon.

First, from Ben F.olds:

I don't get many things right the first time.

In fact, I am told that a lot.

Now I know all the wrong turns,

the stumbles and falls brought me here.

And where was I before the day

that I first saw your lovely face?

Now I see it every day. And I know,

that I am, I am, I am the luckiest.

And from Ras.cal Flatts, with a few minor edits :-):

There's a place I've been lookin' for
that took me in and out of buildings,
behind windows, walls and doors.
And I thought I found it,
a couple times even settled down.
Then I'd hang around just long enough
to find my way back out.
I know now, the place that I was tryin' to reach
was you right here in front of me.

And I wouldn't change a thing.
I'd walk right back through the rain;
back to every broken heart on the day that it was breakin'.
And I'd relive all the years, and be thankful for the tears
I cried through every stumbled step that led to you,
and brought me here.

It's amazin', what I let my heart go through,
just to get me where it got me:
In this moment here with you.
And it passed me by, God knows how many times.
I was so caught up in holding what I never thought I'd find.
I know now, there's a million roads I had to take
to get [you in my] arms this way.

And I wouldn't change a thing.
I'd walk right back through the rain;
back to every broken heart on the day that it was breakin'.
And I'd relive all the years, and be thankful for the tears
I cried through every stumbled step that led to you,
and brought me here.

In a love I never thought I'd get to get to,
and if that's the road [I had to take] to be with you,

Then I wouldn't change a thing.
I'd walk right back through the rain;
back to every broken heart on the day that it was breakin'.
And I'd relive all the years, and be thankful for the tears
I cried through every stumbled step that led to you,
and brought me here.

The majority of the images in my mental slide show are still pretty dismal, but I'm adding more happy ones by the day and I know the balance will only continue to shift. Of course I would have loved it if he could have been our cycle #1 baby, but he wasn't. He was our cycle #15 baby, and with hindsight (and a generous helping of cheesiness), it's not that I think the journey wasn't beyond terrible, it's just that he was worth it.

I've been doing a lot of reckoning of the last few years lately - bet you couldn't tell. ;-) As I alluded to before, I have many more thoughts to share on this business of honoring both the light and the shadows of the infertility quagmire, but I've taken up enough of your time with my mental meanderings for today.