A Christmas funk.

When I was a little girl I absolutely loved the Christmas season. I have fond memories of going to the Christmas tree lot and watching in amazement as they flocked our tree. My mom would go all out with decorations, decorating inside and outside to the extreme! There was always something magical when the Christmas tree was lit and no other lights in the room were on. I remember sitting on the floor, basically under the tree, looking up into the tree and watching the flicker of the lights glimmer on each branch, from one pine needle to the next. And the music! There's something about Christmas music that made my heart leap for joy. 

When I got married the Christmas season continued to be special. I attempted to decorate as elaborately as my mom, never quite meeting that level of expertise. Regardless, I would relish in the moments of the lit Christmas tree and my husband and I would snuggle on the couch in newlywed bliss.

Then infertility stuck! The Christmas magic was lost. I would listen to the music of the season, the same songs that use to make me smile, and feel nothing. For over five years I dreaded Christmas. I dreaded feeling that heaviness of something void in my life.

I remember one Christmas in particular I was setting up the mantle, arranging and fluffing the garland. Then came time to hang the stockings. There were only two to hang, one for my husband and one for me. I remember thinking how lame the mantle looked. I began to cry, the hard sobbing kind, wishing there was child's stocking to bring completion to this holiday tradition. I wished there was a child to bring back the joy to this holiday.

I've spent three Christmas seasons, this being my fourth, as a mom and you know what? Up until this year I had a similar empty sensation over the holiday. Just last year I put up our, now three, stockings and cried because I couldn't help but think of my miscarriages and the babies that should be with us. I had a son, I had that extra stocking to hang, yet it wasn't good enough.

This realization about the Christmas funk has only come to me recently as I reflect on why this year is different. I actually expected it to feel void given the passing of my father-in-law a few months ago and the fact that my dad continues to struggle with cancer.

But you know what? The magic is back. The joyfulness that I felt as a child has returned. Maybe it's the Chinese herbs my acupuncturist has me on (thanks Ease Plus!) or maybe it's because for the first time in a long time I'm no longer waiting for infertility to go away. I'm no longer waiting to get pregnant again. I'm no longer anticipating or counting the days of my cycle. For the first time in months, in years really, I'm at peace with what my life. I'm actually able to relish in the moments of the season. I'm able to say with confidence, my life has enough and I'm enough.

As for the stockings on the mantle? I haven't put them up yet. Not purposefully but in hindsight, probably the best decision of the season! 

Its not the end, it's a new chapter.

My ideal timeline looked like this: 

Date, get engaged, get married, go on a honeymoon and sometime shortly after that, start trying to have a baby. Two years later, have a second child, and somewhere down the line a third and possible a fourth. Yep, I'm that odd LA mom who dreams of having 4 kids, a rare breed on my side of town!

I decided to start trying for baby #1 in the Spring of 2010. Up to this point I was super fortunate to have my desired life timeline play out according to plan. So you can imagine my surprise when month one, then month two passed without a positive pregnancy test. Come July, I was getting antsy and decided to see the "Queen Victoria" (thank you Rosie Pope for that special name) doctor. 

Here I was, four months into trying to conceive and already I was at the doctor. Why did I go to the doctor so soon? I'm not sure, to be honest. Perhaps a part of me knew something was not right from the get go. After doing the normal/basic yearly exam, I was referred to a reproductive endocrinologist, otherwise known as a Baby Making Doctor. 

This began the first of many fights with Josh. I wanted to start fertility treatments (aka, clomid), even though at the time I had no clue what that entailed. Josh wanted to give it more time. The more we argued about this, the more I felt unheard. 

So after many heated discussions, some that turned ugly, we scheduled our first appointment. I was ignorant, maybe even beyond ignorant - if that's possible. I really thought I was going to attend this appointment and everything would be fine. I assumed we would go through a test or two, find out nothing was wrong, and be pregnant that month.

Far from it!

It took 3 years, 4 rounds of clomid, 5 miscarriages and 5 surgeries/procedures before falling pregnant with Aiden. Add to that another 3 years, 2 surgeries/procedures, 3 menapure cycles, 7 additional miscarriages and a ton of emotional burden later, we are now entering an reproductive immunology protocol in trying for our 2nd child. This includes getting LIT (aka= getting vaccine made up of Josh's white blood cells), IVIG, steroid shots, hormone cocktail - and thats only naming a few. 

While this new chapter is a little overwhelming, I'm glad that it's just that - a NEW CHAPTER. I've spent a lot of time reflecting on our choices of the past - the choice to do menapure cycles, the choice to endure poking and prodding in uncomfortable places on my body. But there's something HOPEFUL in trying something new, in moving forward instead of repeating or holding onto the past. I'm putting my faith in God, as I pray for a different outcome.