My booboo babies, I remember when I first started to feel your presence.

And now you look like little, precious humans. You have blessed me! You have brought me so much joy!

Your daddy says I am lighter now. He says that he doesn’t have to carry so much of my burden anymore; he can let his mind wander and question the world just like he always has. He finds it entertaining! I would have to disagree.

You have a good daddy. He does little things here and there for Mommy that just melts my heart—makes my day a little bit easier.

I am so happy you’re finally here. I knew you would bring me happiness. I can’t believe I get to feel this every day.


There’s very little significance associated with today …

… except that it is the ninth of the month.

I just hope she didn’t suffer. I hope she didn’t suffer in my womb. I hope Jesus numbed her discomfort in Room 15.


It’s a blessing to just be … after three years of infertility.

This winter I am not preparing for an IVF cycle. My first began two years ago.

My mother remarked how nice it must be to come home from work and spend time with our daughter … our baby.

No shots. No meds. No IVF.

We’re in family mode now—not at a stand-still. Our life isn’t on hold anymore. Our dreams have come true. Our hearts ache too, but for a very good *reason—she’s worth it.

I still hurt, and **it still stings—but the weight is gone. The heaviness is lifted.

After all the times I asked God, “When is this going to be over?”

I just want this to be over.

It’s over—done. I’m living it now. I’m living now.

It’s quite simple actually. *blessed*



Joy wakes me up in the middle of the night—because she’s hungry and is ready for her “diddy” to be changed. She eats well now—rarely turns blue.

Joy welcomes me in the morning and rests with her daddy while I go running. I have joy when I run—she’s mine; I no longer just daydream about her.

My running is going well; four mornings per week, I log some miles. Pumping is a phenomenal work out. *wink* I’ve reached my pre-pregnancy weight; in fact, I’m about five pounds lighter. *confident mamacita* I wear a bit more eye make-up these days; I put in a little more effort. Because I’m a mother, and it makes me feel beautiful.


She keeps me on my toes and bursts my heart. There aren’t enough kisses. Her eyes couldn’t be more bright.

Her wardrobe is PINK. We cannot escape it; pink suits her complexion.

She talks about everything—sleeping, playing, stretching, eating—but she’s quiet too. A content little girl with those big eyes. Physically, she is very strong. And her strawberry hair grows—a head of peach fuzz after her baths.


My little water princess for sure. She belongs in Nana’s Floridian pool.

My Papa is not well. Please, please pray for him. I want him to stay with us; he has lived a long life. I am grateful for his longevity and the memories created, but I want him to stay with us.

I pray for his comfort. I pray that he knows he is deeply loved and cherished.

My sweet Papa.


When’s your due date? January 2.

I’m a chump for the holidays. I get caught up in all the joy and fun.

There’s just something so magical about it all, isn’t there?

I typically experience the after-holiday blues around this time. It’s childish, I know. But I just can’t help myself.

Today is Rowan and Emmanuelle’s due date. Happy due date my darling daughters. Rowan is enjoying her day with Mommy and Sarabi in her baby pink onesie. She graciously accompanied me to Starbucks this morning. I snuggled her in our Sakura Bloom sling. It was magical. Show off my baby? Don’t mind if I do. No doubt, my baby Emmanuelle is enjoying her due date with our Heavenly Father. I love you Emme. What color onesie shall I imagine you in while you sit on Jesus’ lap? Grandma would know; she’s good with that stuff. Perhaps an ivory-colored onesie with some feminine flare. You are my brunette baby with a darker complexion; you would look like a beauty among the angels.

January 2: The end of the holidays. I remember 2012 … Shortly after the New Year’s holiday, it was time to move on with “normal” life. We were in the depths of our infertility journey, and I’d welcomed the holidays as pain medication for my aching heart. Little did I know, we would spend 2012 and 2013 child-less. I woke up one Monday morning – dark and cold – and my heart just ached. It just hurt so bad. My pain medication was gone; there were no more distractions. There certainly wasn’t a baby. My heart hurt that morning, but I bundled up and went for my run – passing Belle Haven Drive along the way.

I remember. I will always remember. And I am so thankful it’s over. I’m so thankful that today represents what it does and has brought a new meaning to the days after Christmas.

Because the joy doesn’t end today. The joy is just beginning …

The Distance

I think I lost myself for a bit there. Now I’m just a new me. But I went from being me, to losing myself, to being a new me.

I didn’t get to be the original me again … not that I wanted to.

If I’m not making any sense, let me just put it this way: Infertility was one hell of a transition period.

I don’t want to forget. I don’t think I ever could. But I’m working to figure out who I am again … or now. Allison et al. Wife. Mommy.

The last three years put me through a lot. Can I say hell? My hell? I think I did decent, though. There were moments—really, really bad moments. I don’t really know how I got through it. I just did. You just have to keep living. “Life sucks, my heart is broken, but I’m still breathing, so I guess I’ll have a drink or go see a movie or find something valuable about this life and pursue it, go do it, enjoy it.” Have your moment, then move on.

There was sadness—like, maybe I want to kill myself, but that’s a little too selfish … type of sadness. There was rage. The never ending cycle of unfairness. You want me to do what, pay what, suffer how long?

Fine I’ll do it, but it’s not fair. Doesn’t it make you want to pull your hair out? … and I have a lot of hair.

Gah, it’s just so fuckin’ hard! I hate it. I hate every bit of it, every single ounce.

But I am thankful. I was so meant for this. I remember telling my mom about the twins, the fact that there were two. What did she say? “Oh Allison, you’re going to be ‘Mommy’. You’re going to be one busy, busy mommy.” I could hear the smile in her voice, and I could hear her unspoken words: “You were meant for this, Allison.” Because I was, and I am.

A good friend wrote me a letter congratulating me. She was one of my college teammates and roommates. She is of the fertile people! I have much reason to believe that she doesn’t understand what I’ve been through (praise Jesus), but she loves me. And she knows who I am.

Those of you who are familiar with the sport of cross-country and/or long distance running, in general, understand that this is a sport of grit. Of your heart and soul. And there is surely a sisterhood among those who endure the races together. And that sisterhood still remains among those who compete against each other—to make herself and her sister better, stronger, and faster. Dear Jesus, it’s a beautiful thing.

Yes, there is training. There is technique. There is talent. But—really—the only thing standing between you and a faster you is your heart. Prepped and ready to go at the start line, there is much adrenaline because it’s going to hurt.

It meant so much to me to receive this letter from my friend. She’s followed my journey and is celebrating with me. I value my TTC sisters; you are all in my heart. But there is something special about a friend—who hasn’t experienced this—reaching out to remind me that I’m Alli Mac; I’m baby beast; I’ve got this.

I can’t say that running an 800-meter race or marathon compares to infertility … because it doesn’t. But I think God chose me to suffer because I have some grit; I’m a little bit of a mess. Infertility, you will not tell me no.

My friend—my teammate—reminded me of this. Of me.

So, thank you dear friend. This one’s for you.

“Keep your head up, your heart strong.” – the beautiful, really, really fast Shalane Flanagan (who is among the grittiest, in my opinion :))

What Wasn’t

I almost got through the entire day without realizing that my “moment” on June 27, 2013, was supposed to be born today.

My baby was small, not thriving, barely even there really. But it was a good day, that Thursday.

It wasn’t meant to be, though. And I’m okay with that today. I don’t know; I just am.

My aunt told me back in June to protect my heart in eight months’ time when baby was scheduled to arrive. I was hoping I’d be okay anyway. I was hoping I’d have my take-home baby bump anyway.

But, it wasn’t meant to be. Nope, not today.

Instead I went to my Lupron evaluation appointment. My lining is 4-point-something. Nice and quiet. I have no cysts, thank Jesus. I did see a lovely batch of follicles, particularly on my right ovary. But I’m not going to talk about that right now.

Instead I went to work and received a phone call from my nurse informing me that “everything” looks good. Delestrogen starts tonight.

Instead I went for a nice run on the treadmill and plan to eat leftovers for dinner.


Because today wasn’t my baby’s day.

Instead, I think I ought to have myself a Christmas baby.

The Idiosyncrasies of a Sister Mary Elephant

I have a lot of hair on my head. It’s super thick and curly.

But, as explained in my answer to question #2 here, I have light—in color and texture—body hair. But I still hate body hair. (I don’t hate it in general; I just hate the way it feels on me. And—NO—hairless men are NOT sexy. I like my burly, bearded men.) I think because I was blessed with light hair, I have higher expectations with regard to my bodily hairiness. I don’t know.

You probably always wanted to know this about me, huh?

What I’d like to share with you as that when I was on Lupron for 60 days, along with the headaches and hotflashes, I noticed that my body hair was even more thin than it already is naturally. I usually shave every three days or so; during my menopause, there was nothing really to shave.

It was fantastic. Today, I’m not loving the current status of my body hair. I just took a shower after my run and cringed at the touch of my armpits and legs … but I’ll just shave tomorrow morning in celebration of the work week.

Those who’ve been on Lupron, did you experience this with your body hair too?

I’m kind of a crazy person when I run. Like, creepy crazy. I zone out and start contemplating the meaning of life infertility with myself. Me, myself, and I have really great discussions during my runs. Again, I’m weird; I know.

Today we talked about how crazy it is that one phone call filled with some standard information (at least in the infertility world) turned into this mess.

I was supposed to take Clomid for two or three months and become pregnant. It was supposed to be that easy. My doctor had all the confidence in the world that this 23-year-old patient sitting in front of her with all the doubt and fear in the world would be visiting her soon with a baby on board.


I’m quite proud of my body and it’s last menstrual cycle. There was actually something to shed. I don’t know if the first cycle post IVF is supposed to be heavy, light, long, short, painful, painless … but mine was mild in pain and heavy for me. It seemed normal. It was probably even tampon-worthy. (I don’t wear tampons because my periods aren’t heavy enough, and the thought of pulling out a semi-saturated tampon is kind of like nails on a chalkboard for me.)

Me, myself, and I discussed the fact that I probably should have known better as a late teen/early 20-something-year-old woman. But—then again—how could I have known any better? It’s obvious NOTHING was happening with regard to my cycle. I didn’t know cycles were actually supposed to be like clockwork … or at least predictable.

Of course, I didn’t want to be a teenage mother or anything; but, later on in life, I started to wonder why I hadn’t “accidentally” become pregnant.

Of course, after my wedding when I schemed sex every other day on CDs 10 through 20, it was a shot in the dark. “Oh I have no idea if I’m ovulating, but I’m supposed to be, right? So, let’s go ahead and do it.” I didn’t need OPKs or to monitor my temperature; it was obvious NOTHING was happening. Of course, I didn’t know nothing was happening because nothing was all I’d ever known.

Relaxed or not, a 23- and 24-year-old should fall pregnant when they do it every other day for two weeks.

I remember that June, my parents visited for the weekend. We were enjoying each other’s company on the beach and discussing a friend’s desire for children. It was obvious this friend and her spouse were having trouble conceiving. My father sarcastically asked, “Well, are they having sex?” As if it’s that easy. That was the first moment I thought about telling my parents … but I didn’t.

Instead, I was tipsy from margaritas enjoying their company at the beach again over that Labor Day weekend. My little brother called my mom; as they were talking, her countenance changed. I knew what was coming. He told her he was going to have a baby.

I lost it.

I got up and walked toward the boardwalk. My husband rushed after me, and I let it out. Apparently there were onlookers who pulled out their phones to record the shit show … At least that’s what my husband told me. Well, fuck them; go ahead and record what infertility looks like on your iPhone.

At this point, I had to tell my parents what was going on. I wanted to tell them too. I WANTED TO TELL SOMEONE. I was worried they’d think we were ridiculous. “You want to have a baby in the middle of law school?” Instead, my mother said, “So, in October you’re starting that medication to make you ovulate? Good. Don’t wait.” She wasn’t effing around, and neither was I.

*My father has an interesting sense of humor. You either get it or you don’t. I happen to think he’s absolutely ridiculous and hilarious. I am 5’0″; you can imagine I was a very small baby. My parents compared my size to that of a kitty cat. Because of my size, my father nicknamed me Sister Mary Elephant. I think he was being ironic.


There are a few things I’m absolutely loving this week.

  1. I love the freezing temperatures that have hit Virginia this week. Nothing is better than freezing my ass off. I haven’t been able chosen to run because it’s so damn cold.
  2. Related to item #1, I love it when my windshield wiper fluid freezes and the windshield defroster accomplishes nothing because—as mentioned—it’s effing freezing outside. Junk accumulates and freezes, and the beautiful morning sunshine is blinding so there’s literally no way to see ANYTHING. My favorite thing to do in this situation is pull off on the side of the road and clean my windshield with a napkin while semis are driving 55 MPH passed me. What’s really special is when I plan my commute back home perfectly with the beautiful sun setting so I experience the blinding situation again while junk is—again—accumulating and freezing on my windshield … because it’s freezing outside.
  3. Hmm … I don’t know if I love this as much as item #2. I mean, item #2 includes a lot of adrenaline and one-on-one time with Him that sounds like this: “Dear Jesus, please be with me right now because I can’t see a fuckin’ thing …” But item #3 can hold its own—I suppose—because I really love it when others don’t pull their own weight. Like, there’s a task that needs to be completed, but the person who should take ownership of that task simply doesn’t, so I just LOVE swooping in and completing the task on his/her behalf. Somebody has to do it, right?
  4. I think it’s really great when people talk about my hair color [okay, that statement is actually sincere]. 🙂 They remind me of how very rare it is. I love it when I mention that my husband has red hair too. I say these things without thinking first. Oops. But I love it when the anxiety starts to rise because we all know what’s coming: “Aww, your kids are probably going to have red hair! How cute!” I love it when that happens.
  5. Oh my gosh, please let me tell you about something else I love with all my heart. One of my favorite experiences is when Sarabi triggers on stimuli [people] right outside our home. I think it’s a really special moment when the stimulus decides to stand there and watch the shit show. Like, dog is barking at person; person stands and watches. Oh, but the grand finale of this production is when the person is no longer interested in standing there and watching … and proceeds to walk DIRECTLY TOWARD SARABI. Like, the person can’t take a slight detour or anything. Um, she’s coming after YOU. I love it when that happens.
  6. Okay, so I’m not completely in love with this yet, but I’m really starting to like the fact that we bought Mary for a pretty penny and I haven’t heard from my clinical team yet. Like, no feedback or information. Dead silence. I’m falling in love with this quickly, though. It’s just that I love not knowing what’s going on. I love waiting. I don’t think I’ve waited enough; I’d love to do some more of that.
  7. Not specifically related to the events of this wonderful week, but another thing I love is when family members or friends just can’t talk to you or listen to you about your infertility because it’s too hard or weird for them. Now that’s a friend.




I was at the 2.5-mile mark this morning, and it hit me.

Her name.

I am kind of insane and have a never-ending physical checklist—as well as a mental one. Let’s get real: I couldn’t forget about the shit that needs to get done if I tried.

But sometimes I get overwhelmed. I carry my undone tasks from work home—not physically, just as a metaphorical monkey on my back. Then I have my “life over there” tasks, as well as other stuff. You know what I mean. The little tasks (even fun ones) pile up and overwhelm me. There are huge “tasks” like choosing our donor, and little tasks like what font I want my first tattoo to be.

But the list grows, and I shut down.

My run this morning couldn’t have been more necessary. Usually I force myself out the door four or five mornings each week for about 5.5 miles so I feel like I at least accomplished something for the day. The less I run, the grosser I feel. Ha! I just have to check it off my list.

I might be from Colorado, but exercise is a chore for me too. I don’t necessarily think exercise is pure fun … but it is always worth it. That’s why I keep up with it. Fun for me? Food, drink, card games, family, friends. That’s beside the point, though.

The point is that I woke up and made myself run this morning … and didn’t expect some of this “weight” to be lifted. It was a pleasant surprise.

And as I reached the top of the gradual hill, about .25 miles from my turn-around point, it just happened … and it’s so meant to be.

Her name is Mary.

This is a tribute to my Nurse Mary; it’s a beautiful, traditional, feminine, motherly name; it’s the name we’ve chosen for her.

*** Two hours later: I found Mary. Actually, my husband found Mary. She’s ours. I didn’t think it would happen this fast. She’s perfect. Every page of her profile is perfect. ***

Love Story

What can a woman say about her husband?


He knows everything there is to know about me—even my deepest of darkest secrets. He’s the only person who knows everything. Yet, he still pursues me; still tries to peel back the layers. He’s obsessed with me. I am his jewel, his delicate flower. He loves me passionately. He chooses me.

That “list” I created as a teenager? He’s it.

I went to the University of Northern Colorado (UNC). During my freshman year, I very often saw this handsome guy in the dining hall with his best friend. Though they looked nothing alike, their friendship seemed more like a brotherhood. My friends’ and my nickname for the handsome one was “red head from T.K.” T.K. was the name of the dining hall. The first thing I noticed about Red Head—besides his hotness—was his loyalty. You just don’t see that too often in my generation. People have options; we don’t have to commit to anything or anyone. But Red Head was a loyal friend. It may seem like I came to this conclusion early, but the reason I could identify his loyalty was because I am a loyal person too. I admired it then—still do.

I never had the courage to talk to him. Though he knew who I was in the sense that we both acknowledged each other’s existence, he didn’t have the courage to talk to me either. There were other boys; I’m sure he had his options too.

So that summer I returned home to Colorado Springs (about two hours away from college) with plans to spend time with family and high school friends; train for my sophomore cross-country season; and make a little bit of money working at the childcare center at the gym my family went to. I was involved with another boy at the time; it was a friends with benefits situation. I was really just searching for my husband; this guy wasn’t cuttin’ it.

One afternoon I was working and Red Head walked into the gym! I was shocked! I mean, it’s not that big of a coincidence that I’d run into someone from college in my hometown. But Red Head?! I quickly learned he went to the gym Monday through Friday at the same time; I started placing myself by the window so he’d see me when he walked in. I told my friends about it, and they encouraged me to introduce myself. I didn’t know how that was a possibility because I couldn’t just ditch the babies, and—well—I just didn’t have it in me. I’d kind of given up on guys. So, I just let it be and moved on in life …

On June 9, 2007 (a Saturday), I got into an argument with the boy I was casually seeing. He was kind of an idiot. I also decided to be a drama queen and strike up a controversial text conversation with my ex from high school. In all my bitterness toward the male species, I went to the mall with my friend later that afternoon. We were walking toward an escalator when I saw him—again. It was Red Head. Without missing a beat, I walked right up to him and introduced myself: “Hi, my name is Allison. I see you everywhere and figure we should meet.” It was magical; he was a nice guy. 🙂 We chatted a bit; he asked if I was on the cross-country and track teams at UNC (He stalked me, yay!). I was thrilled to have finally met him! My friends and I analyzed the hell out of this guy. My worst fear was that he was involved with someone else. At this point, though, the ball was in his court.

That Monday he talked to me at the gym while I was working. As those couple of weeks passed, he talked to me every afternoon I worked. He “friended” me on Facebook. I ditched the other guy. We had a cute week-long Facebook conversation which turned into texting, which turned into late-night phone calls. I didn’t work in the afternoons for a whole week, so I didn’t get to see him. He asked me on a date set for Friday, June 29, 2007. The next time I was working in the afternoon was Thursday, June 28, 2007. I was so excited to see him! At this point, we both knew our feelings for each other. It sounds cliché, but I really did feel so different about him than any other guy I’d ever met! He just felt like home. I was falling for him fast.

On June 28, 2007, he gave me a hug before his workout. Afterward, we talked for hours until my shift ended. Hand-in-hand he walked me to my car, and I asked him if he wanted to get in. My goal was to kiss this boy! I told him I wouldn’t do it, though! He kissed me … It was amazing, so delicious … ❤ ❤ ❤ At the time, I wore a Claddagh Ring that symbolized I was single. After he kissed me, he looked down at my finger and said, “I think that’s facing the wrong way.” I told him he should fix it then, and he turned it around and re-placed it on my finger. I know—ridiculously cute.

I went home that evening and asked my daddy if I could go on a date the next day. I told him about Chris and that he planned to pick me up after I was done with work. My mom returned to the room and we brought her up to speed with the discussion. She excitedly asked, “You mean, he’s going to drive here in his car, meet us, and take you on a real date? You’re not just ‘hanging out’?” They were thrilled.

Within the following 2.5 years, there were I love yous and arguments. There were growing pains and break ups. There were Christmases together with our families and summer family vacations.

On Friday, December 18, 2009, we were anticipating an epic snow storm to hit Washington, D.C. My father had already returned to Colorado for Christmas. I lived with my dad in Washington, D.C. after college; he traveled back and forth between Colorado and D.C. Chris was already headed home to Colorado from Virginia Beach. He was a 1L in law school at the time. Though the snow hadn’t hit yet, we knew it was going to be bad, and I wasn’t scheduled to leave until the next morning. I was NOT going to be stuck by myself without my family for CHRISTMAS! I rushed to the airport after work (still not a snowflake in the sky) and let my dad do the talking over the phone. He had some fancy status with United Airlines because he flew a shit ton. I got on a flight out of Washington headed for Chicago. I was stuck on the plane before take-off for about four hours. The snow was starting to fall; we needed to get out of there! I didn’t arrive to Chicago until around 4 a.m. on December 19. My goal was to get on a flight to Denver as soon as possible. I was exhausted and stressed, but I got on a flight and finally arrived in Denver around 9 a.m.

I hadn’t seen Chris for a few weeks because he was taking finals. I couldn’t wait to see him! I’d totally forgotten about our pending engagement; I was just excited to be home with my family and boyfriend. I knew he had a ring, I knew it would happen in the year of 2009. There weren’t many days left.

After our brief embrace at his parents’ house, he went “shopping” with his dad, and I went to lunch with his mom and sister. Chris’ shopping consisted of taking my dad out to Starbucks and asking for my hand in marriage.

Later that afternoon, his mom came up with the brilliant idea of going to the Garden of the Gods. It was totally random; they hadn’t planned this at all. 😉 So, Chris and I were walking through the Garden; his parents were trailing behind (with cameras). We paused for a moment, he said my name, and I turned around. He was on one knee offering me a beautiful princess-cut diamond ring and asked, “Will you marry me?

Our wedding day was December 28, 2010—the 3.5-year anniversary of our relationship. It was the perfect day …

I know my TTC sisters understand how difficult marriage can be while enduring infertility. As Taylor Swift says, “Life makes love look hard.” Chris and I practically lived together during two years of college; we’d figured each other out pretty well. We didn’t really deal with the “typical” newlywed challenges. Instead, our challenge was being a law school couple with not a lot of extra money to pay for infertility treatments. At one point I just didn’t know how the hell we’d ever be able to buy our baby. That’s suffocating.

So, I want to share this song with you. Our dear friends, L and M, shared this song with us and bought us my favorite wedding gift. I know you women will be able to associate with this song. Marriage is such a beautiful thing—to find that person who will stick by you, fight for you, love you through all the hell.

On December 29, 2010, we woke up early for our flight to Las Vegas. That day I noticed some “spotting.” I had a moment of excitement and hope. We hadn’t even talked about having children yet but certainly didn’t intend to prevent anything. That ring was on my finger; our marriage license was signed; I was ready to rock ’n roll! I knew spotting could be a sign of early pregnancy.

Because we were in Vegas—the land of much alcohol—we decided I should proooobably take a pregnancy test. Chris was freaking out a little bit (understandably). I was secretly hoping it’d be positive. To your surprise, I’m sure, it was negative.

The next day, December 30, 2010, CD 1 officially began.

That CD 1.

My Weekend

My weekend was decent, actually.

After our last failure, I’d come to the conclusion that we’ve spent way too many weekends sitting around and stewing in the “sit-rep” of my reproductive system, whether it was waiting for my period to start or analyzing every trip to the restroom and every discoloration.

So, this weekend we did stuff lol. Though I battled against headaches on Saturday and Sunday (story of my Lupron-filled life), it was fun.

We got our iPhone 5Cs on Friday evening, so THAT was exciting. I’d had the first iPhone, and my husband never had a super fancy phone, so we’re quite infatuated with our new toys!

On Saturday, we went to my company’s annual picnic. My goals during those events are to eat free food and say hi to the bosses. Later on we went to the iPhone store to buy cases for our phones. My husband treated me to a Cookies and Cream shake from Chick-Fil-A—weird craving for a not so warm day. It was delicious. Then we continued our viewing of the Harry Potter series with movie number six. I don’t know why we decided to watch the series, but—hey—it was fun.

Okay, my weekend isn’t sounding so exciting after all…

Onto the highlight of my weekend: On Sunday we woke up quite early and drove to Maryland to participate in the Cade Foundation’s Race for the Family, which was sponsored by my fertility clinic. It was a great event. My husband and I got our blood pumping early, running the 5k. It was pretty neat: Of all the races I’ve run, of all the causes or celebrations I’ve been part of by running a race … it was pretty special to me to run for my future family. And—I won second place in my age group! I wasn’t expecting to really “race,” but it was fun to put in a good effort and gauge my running ability after taking sooo much time off with cycle after cycle after cycle … after cycle. As we were leaving, my doctor told me congratulations for my award. I just hope he’s congratulating me reeeeally soon again for something else. :/

Have you heard of the Cade Foundation? It was founded by a woman who suffered from infertility. She and her husband went through multiple rounds of IVF until her doctor said it was time to explore other options. One of those options included using a gestational carrier. Well—her 54-year-old mother became her gestational carrier and carried her triplets. It’s a pretty neat story.

I am feeling better emotionally. I’ve always struggled with this kind of “stuff.” My mom asked me to talk to my nurse/doctor about antidepressants. I still might. Though I’m okay compared to last week, I do struggle with obsessing, worry, anxiety, depression in general and completely outside of infertility—though infertility has a way of ramping it up. I don’t want to take medications I don’t need, and it’s so tricky to know when it’s time to take them. It’s all emotional. I just have to get through it, right? Or do I really—actually—struggle? I know I do; I just don’t know what to do regarding my current TTC status (though we’re not actually trying these months because A. I don’t ovulate on my own and B. even if I did ovulate, the Lupron won’t let me). But I’m TTC in general, and do antidepressants just confuse everything? Ahhh! I’ve heard from a few of you and your personal experiences regarding this, so thank you for reaching out. Again—I’m not alone.

Other than the emotional crap, if I could figure out a way to get rid of the headaches, I’d be good. I just don’t think eight Motrin or Tylenol each day is the best idea—especially when they don’t even work. I’ve noticed that naps help a lot. And regarding that—I’m surprised I’m even able to take naps mid-day. I’m not much of a napper but have embraced siestas on the weekends ever since I got my Lupron shot. So now I just need to figure out a way to nap at work so I’m not dealing with a headache for half the day. I’ll let you know how that goes.

January 17, 2013

Well, here’s to one of my last runs:

3 minutes at 10 pace

10 minute at 9 pace

10 minutes at 8:30 pace

10 minutes at 8 pace

10 minutes at 7:45 pace

5 minutes at 9 pace

5 minutes at 8:30 pace

4 minutes at 7:30 pace

3 minutes at 10 pace

Average Pace: 8:20

I typically run on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. This Friday, though, I have a doctor appointment at the crack of dawn. So I ran this morning. I think I am starting my stimulation medications tomorrow evening, so I can’t really run anymore. (I hope I am starting my stimulation medications tomorrow evening.)

I’ve worked hard! I’ve gotten faster! I was blogging my times and everything for a while there but, obviously, stopped. It’s neat to see my progress. Through speed training and the Butt Bible my body has really transformed! I’m, like, a little bit toned now. J Changing my work-out routine and eating semi-clean has really been a nice, healthy distraction from “everything.” My husband and I are working on low sodium eating habits, too, so that is nice. I’m glad we’re doing this because a. I don’t need the stress of worrying about my bipolar blood pressure due to eating crappy and a lot of salt, and b. I would like to eat fairly well for my IVF cycle.