The journey hasn't ended ...

I'm not giving up. But this will be my last post to THIS blog. Our journey hasn't ended, but I have put it on the back burner for now - life is calling and I need to respond.

I realized while driving home that a year ago today I saw my mother for the last time. As they closed her casket that day - I felt a part of my heart go with her. Over the last year a lot has changed. Days following her funeral there were times I felt like I couldn't get out of bed, I'd go to work and barely function and amidst my heartache, I thought it would be a good idea to try for a baby again. This time things were different. Mom wasn't there to hear me talk about the shots, test results and doctors visits - having a baby meant a lot, but coping with mom's absence meant more.

It's been one whole year already. Our second Thanksgiving without mom came and went. As I looked out the kitchen window that day listening to family and friends talk and laugh, I missed her so much. It was seeing my father sit there without mom at his side that I realized I've been given a responsibility - one I didn't choose, it chose me.

While I was on Facebook today, a friend posed this very question: do you choose your kuleana or does kuleana choose you? I said kuleana chooses you.

My dad, family and work are my kuleana - having a baby right now isn't. Perhaps that's why it hasn't happened for us - deep in my heart I know I've been given a responsibility greater than I could've imagined. Alone and having a mind that diminishes a little each day, I need to make sure dad enjoys the years he has left - I need to be there for him now, spending time with him while he still knows who I am.

While trying again some time next year isn't out of the question - it isn't a priority any longer and as I've said in blogs past - I have a life to live and I can't do it pining for a baby. I'm needed elsewhere and so that's where I'll be. Enjoying my family, friends and the work I do.

My need for recording my life in writing is still intact, so look for a new blog detailing my life as a daughter, sister, wife and friend who loves a good laugh and detailing life's candid moments.

Baby or not ...

Something's changed. I'll be the first to admit it - I'm not who I was six months ago, or six weeks ago for that matter. After all was said and done, I still wasn't pregnant - and for the first time in the 10 years we've been trying, I was okay with that.

Mind you, it hurt initially. That phone call from the doctor took the breath out of me for a few minutes and I struggled knowing Kauhi wouldn't be a dad anytime soon. But as the days and nights passed it got easier, the hurt went away - not entirely, but most of it. Something else replaced it. Call it what you want, but something was definitely different.

It's 3:15 a.m., Kauhi's in Lake Tahoe playing golf and I'm home enjoying some time with friends and for the first time in a long time I'm excited for our future - pregnant or not.

I have a great new job - while stressful, it's fulfilling and challenging, we'll finally get the backyard of our dreams, I'm spending quality time with my dad - getting to know the man I feared for most of my teenage and young adult life. I think it was in mom's plan all along - she needed me to see the man she met on the dance floor in that pub in Germany so many years ago.

But there's something in my heart that's changed - getting pregnant is no longer my priority - living life is. I've spent so many nights wishing and praying that we'd get our miracle. I've seen the unfriendly side of a needle way too many times to count and if I had a nickel for every doctor's visit, I'd have a pretty nice nest egg. I won't lie, my heart still skips a beat when I see a baby or I hear someone I know is pregnant - but I'm no longer devastated.

It's times like this, when it's quiet, when I can only hear the whisper of the ceiling fan above me, or the humming of the fridge that I think about how thankful I am for what I do have. A friend once told me that I have passion - I'd have to agree, when I commit to something I mean it, when I say something, it's truly how I feel and when I love, I love hard. Here's to a new found appreciation and enthusiasm for life - it's the only one I have. Baby or not, here I come!

What is meant to be ...

I had a feeling my blood test would come back negative, but I held out for the slightest chance that fate would be on my side this time - no such luck.

This would be the fourth artificial insemination I would do - by fertility treatment standards, that's not a high number, but by my sanity's standards - it's plenty.

After introducing the usual suspects of oral medications and ones I had to inject, it's only natural to think that I would conceive - high expectations for our first try in over four years.

Then there's the part of me that wonders why mom couldn't help this along. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I remember her telling me that would be her first order of business - to send our little one home. Don't get me wrong, mom's done plenty since she's been gone, including the wonderful opportunity I have at work now, giving Kauhi the patience to deal with me and giving me only what I can handle - perhaps that is why I sit here thinking about when we'll try again.

I was sad, more so for Kauhi than for me, but I can't dwell on it, I can't let my infertility define who I am, it's a part of me, and in the large scheme of things, I have to tell myself it's not the end of the world. Simply put, what is meant to be, will be - in it's own time.

A moment of weakness

I need to get something off my chest. It'll sound bad at first, but hear me out okay?

Am I making the right decision? Is this whole baby thing really going to be worth it? The last five days have been interesting to say the least. The Clomid did a real number on my emotions. Although I think I've been okay for the most part, it's had a knack for taking a little of my "happy" away. Oh and the "need" for "doing it" has been crazy ... and just the talk of "it" has me reeling! It's amazing what a tiny pill can do to your pituitary gland - the epicenter to all your hormones. Honestly, if my mind were a movie, it would be rated X! It's really rather distracting. Any warm-blooded human being would say this is a good thing, but the pressure of "doing it" can really hamper the excitement and the pure carnage of it all - if you know what I mean?

And to what end? I was told today that the follicles on my ovaries (where the eggs mature) aren't large enough. So fast forward 20 minutes and I'm walking out of the doctor's office with syringes, sharps container and Follistim ... a medication I need to shoot into my stomach once a day for 5 days to help those eggs mature. This should be old hat for me, including the side effects of Follistim which include boobs that have the potential to bust (no pun intended) right out of my blouse because of the synthetic hormones, that feeling you've had too much to eat that never goes away, confusion, dizziness and difficulty breathing. Even with these possible complications, I know I was 100 times more excited last time, so I don't know what it is. Perhaps it's all the work I have to do, the yard that needs tending to, the bills and my dad who needs my help to remember what day it is and what medications to take. I have a lot more on my mind these days ...

I can't explain it - perhaps overwhelmed is a good word? I'm sure I felt this way when we tried the last time, but I was 5 years younger and thought I had a lot of time ahead of me. Now I'm at an age where the risks are higher, our chances are lower and I'm ashamed to say, I was sort of getting used to our childless lifestyle.

Am I a bad person for thinking this way? I hope not. I'm sure any woman who has to inject herself with hormones on a daily basis to achieve a fraction of a chance to conceive goes through moments of weakness ... I guess this was mine.

Give me a C L O M I D!

And so it begins. Our journey is officially underway. For the next five days, I'll be taking the drug Clomid. As my doctor indicated at the start of our journey, we're starting back at square one. With it's harmless and unassuming appearance, Clomid apparently packs a punch. Let me remind you the last time I took Clomid I was 25 years old and never really noticed any major side effects - although Kauhi may have a different recolection. Of course a lot has changed since 2000 and my addiction to Google and Web MD has me well informed of potential situations I may find myself in.

Just for grins here's some of the fun I could be looking forward to:

- Mood swings (poor Kauhi)
- Weight gain (really? Like I needed an alternative to food to
pack on the pounds?)
- Depression (impossible ... I have the greatest husband, friends and family to keep me laughing ... most of the time)
- Insomnia (I like staying up late anyway!)

There are others but I thought those were the ones worth mentioning.

Pardon me for a brief TMI moment but we're all adults right? In addition to it's wide variety of side effects, it also comes with some strict rules. I must be sure to take it on days 5-9 of my cycle and then depending how my eggs respond, I may need a
shot to trigger ovulation. That's when the hubby and I "do the deed" - ON DEMAND and we hope for the best!

Who said infertility couldn't be any fun?!

Life goes on

Six, eight, five, four, five ... wait, what am I doing? I can't tell you how many times in the last few months this has happened to me, good or bad news to share, I always called mom. The realization hit me again today, I wouldn't get an answer. Here's what I would've shared with her ...

I entered the doctor's office feeling a little apprehensive, after all two weeks ago I was laid up in a hospital bed, hooked up to i.v. antibiotics and pain medication after another bout with diverticulitis. Another part of our journey I didn't count on. Now some of you may know what this condition is, but many of you don't, and believe me, you don't want to. Chalk it up to bad genes passed down from generations before, bad eating habits for most of my childhood and young adult life - no matter what the cause, it's a pain in the neck - well stomach to have. Diverticuli are little pockets that form in your large intestine over time. When one eats nuts, deep fried foods, stalky vegetables, seeds or anything hard to digest (and tasty j/k) these pockets act as safe havens for food particles to breed bacteria ... hence the infection! Altering your eating habits, plenty of water and exercise is said to be the remedy to keep attacks at bay - it's true, but I'm human and I might've turned a blind eye to a seed or two.

Fast forward two weeks and I'm feeling pretty darn good. I'm eating a normal diet again, almost done with the antibiotics and no more pain. Life's looking pretty awesome and now it was my turn to see the doctor.

I sat down and she proceeded to show me actual photos of polyps they pulled out of me in June. Not pretty and there were so many of them. Time is of the essence she said. These things grow back and until I don't have a uterus anymore, I'll have to keep dealing with them. "Well, call us next week when your cycle starts and we'll officially begin," were her last words to me as she held the door open. That's it? So the process commences almost immediately? I forgot how exciting it could be, the anticipation was a little intoxicating and my "woe is me, I'm a diverticulitis sufferer" went right out the window - life's moving on and I'm going with it. However, for some odd reason, the first thing that popped into my head was "I need to call mom and let her know." I'm not crazy, well at least I don't think so - but it felt real. As I bid the office staff an enthusiastic "aloha, see you folks next week," I began dialing mom's number on my cell phone ... and then it hit me as I hit the down button on the elevator - "Liz, you won't get an answer, girl get a grip!"

I could feel the tears well up, but I held back - I was on my way to meet Kauhi for lunch and I didn't want him to see me cry. When the elevator opened, I entered and stared at my phone thinking how I could be so detached from reality. I've had friends and family say it's happened to them - but it's different when it's you ... somehow we all think we're immune to episodes like this, but now I see I'm no superwoman, no one special, just a girl who misses her mother more than words could ever say.

So mom, even though you can't pick up the phone, I know you're listening, watching - I hope you'll get to see some amazing things happen over the next few months. As you would say, "C'mon, life goes on my girl, you can't watch it pass you by."

You may say I'm a dreamer

Dreams. Some nights it scares me how real they are. I swear I can smell, taste and feel everything. I've felt the water I was swimming in, my mother's hand that I was holding and the scent of my favorite flower - Pikake. Lately, the dreams I've had are vivid and intense, some worth repeating, others I beg to forget.

It seemed so real. I found myself on the sidewalk in front of the house I grew up in. I could feel the sun and the fragrance of newly cut grass and the gasoline from my father's lawnmower wafted through the air. I looked down and under the gray blouse I was wearing was my pregnant belly. I could feel the excitement, you know that beat your heart skips when you see a policeman on the highway at the last minute or when you're waiting for that phone call from "the one." I couldn't believe it. I looked up and my mother was standing in the garage with a smile on her face, but I couldn't move and when I did, she got farther away. I turned to see two children, about 3 years old, a boy with brown hair, fair skin and green eyes ... the little girl had a ponytail wore a red sweater and had a backpack on that was way too big for her, but I never saw her face. I followed them as they walked down the steep road leading away from my house. I hurried to catch up. The little girl turned a corner and disappeared ... the little boy kept turning back and gesturing for me to hurry. As we both turned the corner there was a sea of children on a playground and Kauhi sitting in the middle of them all. I turned for just a second, and when I looked for the little boy, I caught a glimpse of him joining the other children - and then he was gone. As I went to Kauhi who sat solemnly on a bench - my pregnant belly was no more, as if it was never there. We cried together.

Gasping for air I woke up to find my pillow wet from my tears. While many of my dreams are happy ones, memories with friends and family - it's the ones that show me what could be that hurt the most. Part of this journey is being able to dream - to think that what's been impossible, could be possible. I think about what that dream meant, why would I be given a glimpse of something I want so much just to have it taken away? Do I take it as a sign, or a desperate attempt of my sleeping self to experience amazing things ... reuniting with my mother, talking on the phone with my Hawaiian grandmother and parenthood.

What ever the reason may be, I'm never afraid to close my eyes. While there's a chance a dream like the one I shared could invade my dreams again - it's the ones that will make me laugh, shed tears of happiness and experience amazing things that give me comfort - what ever happens in my waking life will be, dreams or no dreams, I've accepted that.

Needles? Bring 'em on!

Needles. Usually that was enough to send me packing in the opposite direction. However as our journey to parenthood commenced so many years ago, I learned to suck it up and shot myself twice daily to prepare for our two failed in-vitros, I still bear the scars - a daily reminder that my commitment to parenthood is unwavering - I'll try just about anything.

If you told me the practice of acupuncture had helped women across the globe for centuries get pregnant I would've said you were crazy - but four years ago I gave in to the ancient Eastern treatment and I voluntarily subjected myself to dozens of needles inserted into the dermis of my skin. I watched as the Chinese doctor located in a small office in the middle of Chinatown placed 2 inch needles into my forehead, chest, stomach, arms, legs and even between my toes (the most painful of them all), what was I thinking?

It was a miracle. Besides the amazing relaxation these needles induced by aligning my Qi and increasing my body's blood flow, the 6 months I spent with my doctor and her "ancient Chinese secret" regulated my cycle. She would always say, "we fix your ovaries," in her adorable Chinese accent ... for a brief time, I was normal, I was like every other woman who walked these streets, something I'd never known.

As life progressed, my time spent at the acupuncturist grew shorter and more infrequent and my cycles went back to its craziness. In one week I'll be having minor surgery to help my body regulate itself once again ... but thanks to a dear friend who convinced me to go back to what worked, I'm hoping going back to acupuncture will be the help I need.

As I place my body at the mercy of those needles once again, I'm relieved and reminded that western medicine isn't always the best medicine.

Hair today, gone tomorrow

For some it defines who they are, it's a statement, a nuisance or something that sets them apart from the rest ... but for me, my hair means much more than that - it's a visual reminder of where life's taken me.

I recently decided that it was time for a change ... it wouldn't be the first time I've cut my hair - and while many think "it's just hair," this time - its meaning really touched my core.

My hair's been witness to everything that's happened in my life, especially in the last 8 months - signifcant or not, that's why I can't say I didn't shed a tear while 10 inches of my hair was separated from me yesterday. As my cousin (and stylist) handed my hair, neatly in a braid to me - the last several months flahsed in my head for just a split second, and then I glanced up at the mirror and saw a new start, the next chapter.

As I weighed the pros and cons of starting anew, I had no doubt in my mind what I'd do with the 10 inches of me ... Locks of Love would be the perfect place to send it - a child who's living with a disease like cancer or Alopecia that causes hair loss will be given a hair piece fashioned with the hair I held so dear ... I would literally be turning my memories into a gift for a child in the name of my mother who died from cancer and a dear friend who recently battled the disease.

So the next time you think it's just hair, think again ... no matter what memories you and your hair have shared, it could be an amazing gift to a child in need.

Happy Mother's Day

Dear Mom,

You've been gone for six months. The memory of your last moments remain so vivid in my memory - and while that was the hardest day of my life, it's the months that have followed that's been the true test of my strength.

Since you've been gone I've seen my first Thanksgiving, Christmas, wedding anniversary, birthday - and now a Mother's Day without you - it's a reality check I wasn't prepared for.

I never thought that I'd be choosing your Mother's Day flowers from a vendor across the street from the cemetery or whispering Happy Mother's Day to you as I arranged your flowers just right so I could fit the mini mylar balloon that says "I love you mom" into the vase ... and while I know I wasn't the only daughter missing her mother today, I couldn't help but cry and remember how much you mean to me and how much I miss you.

As Kauhi and I prepare for the chance to become parents, thoughts came flooding back to me of a conversation you and I had before you left. We both realized that you'd never get to meet the grandson or granddaughter we hoped to give you, you'd never get to buy the crib for the baby's room that you insisted would be your gift to us, and you'd never get to sing Holy Night in German to them during Christmas time like you used to with me ...

You'd often tell me about a baby boy you'd dream about - that you knew could be ours someday ... I hope you've had the chance to see him, to meet him and to hold him, I hope you've had a lifetime of memories with him - and whether he makes it "home" to us or not, I'm comforted in knowing he will know you.

Mom, I hope I make you proud, that I do all the things you wished for me and that I bring you comfort in knowing dad is in good hands and your children and grandchildren are living the life you hoped we would.

We love and miss you so much. Happy Mother's Day.

Love,
Baby

A lot of love to give ...

While we're about a month away from starting our alternative approach to pregnancy, we can't help but to hope for a miracle in the mean time. However as each day, week and month passes, it makes me wonder, "what will we do if it just doesn't happen for us?" While Kauhi says we'll travel and enjoy our time together, there's a piece of me that just wouldn't be complete. Kauhi and I have a lot of love to give - so naturally when the news about Sandra Bullock adopting a child from New Orleans hit the news today, the idea of adoption flooded my thoughts ... again.

Our initial conversation about adoption came up a couple of years ago in the event none of the treatments worked - although I did most of the talking. To my surprise, our family was split on the idea of adopting a child unless it was a niece or nephew, someone who shared our bloodline - or at the very least a child of Hawaiian decent. Soon enough though, the idea became a footnote at the end of all fertility conversations with friends and family - adopting was only a consideration after all other avenues were explored ... but a lot has happened over the past couple of years and I'm scared.

I'm now 35, my mother is gone, I'm helping to care for my elderly father, and I know the damage fertility drugs can do to a woman's body, the side-effects and the emotional burden the process involves - we've been through it all before.

While adoption comes with its own challenges (last I checked, it would require an entire year's salary) it's hard not to think about the millions of children that could thrive in a loving home, our home.

I think about what it would be like to see the little one for the first time - I'm sure it doesn't quite compare to giving birth, but it's really a "birth" in its own right. This child, this little being who may have ended up in the worst circumstances is given a "second birthday" with a family who can give him/her the loving environment every child deserves. Perhaps someday, if it is meant to be, after we're done with all the doctor appointments, needles and pills Kauhi and I will know the joy of celebrating a "second" birthday with a child of our very own.

The husband

His name is Kauhi, he's my best friend, my rock, my reason and my husband. I often think about how my infertility affects him. Over the past eight years he's been there every step of the way ... countless doctor appointments, procedures, medications and failed pregnancy tests - each day reassuring me that if we never have a child, it's ok ... that we'd fill our time with traveling and enjoying our family and friends, yet I could see in his eyes he was just as disappointed as I was ... something inside of me hurts so much for him.

While it sounds extreme, there are many nights I lie awake thinking of how I'm failing as a wife - as a woman - the woman he vowed to spend the rest of his life with. I always thought the least I could do was give him a child, a little one with his eyes, his smile and his kindness. When we said "I do" eleven years ago, it never occurred to us that having a family would be a miracle in the truest sense of the word.

Soon enough we'll find ourselves back eight years, popping what I hope will be the "miracle" pills my body needs ... and while we're hopeful, I'm terrified that I'll disappoint him yet again.

New beginning

Three days ago I opened my Facebook page and I cried. Nothing was wrong or out of place, but it was the first time my heart crumbled inside my chest - I was moved to tears by something so beautiful ... so amazing.

A friend and high school classmate, Jessica Ke`ala Kim-Campuspos is one the most talented artists I've ever known - as far back as I can remember her talent was always something that left me and everyone around me in awe ... Monday was no exception.

Her piece titled Mother & Child Reunion (above) touched my core on a couple of levels ... the absence of my mother is heart-wrenching and my longing to be a mother is suffocating. However, something in this piece inspired hope in me. Jessica's blog explains her inspiration was the Kumulipo - the creation chant of Papa (earth mother) and Wakea (sky father) telling the story of life's beginnings - Jessica mentions the sun and rain as earth's nourishment ... with earth mother cradling new life.

It's the new beginning personified in this piece that affects me so much. I've learned in the past few months that the grief, sorrow and tears I've shed for my mother is making way for a new hope and a new beginning and some day we hope a new life ...

This is where I have to believe "everything does happen for a reason." Many won't agree with me, but in this instance it's what ignites hope in the deepest part of me - the part I thought might disappear after the worst six months of my life. Many will ask "how can an art piece impact you this much?" I believe if someone creates something with a talent they've been gifted with, and it speaks to you on a personal level ... on a spiritual level, then you were meant to see it and it was meant to touch you.

Thank you Jessica for sharing your amazing talent with all of us and for giving me the chance to experience something so beautiful.

Just believe

I've never been a very religious person - but it doesn't mean I don't have faith. My mother was raised Catholic and my father is Protestant - but they decided to let their children choose a religion when we got older. While I never really got around to it, I do know I believe in God, I pray where ever I find myself on any given day and I try to do the right thing. I guess if I had to describe myself, I'd say I'm spiritual, plain and simple.

Having said that, when the opportunity presented itself to have our home blessed by a dear friend, I jumped at the chance. I've always believed that there's a lot to be said about someone who wants to give of themselves - especially on a spiritual level, if you have good and pure intentions, blessing a home is a beautiful gift and I was eager to receive such a blessing given the last few months.

Our friend has been bestowed with a gift of intuition, and positive energy and I was confident that we made the right decision. However, when she began to share what she saw and felt in our home, I had to open my mind beyond bounds I've ever had, but I was willing to hear what she had to say.

She shared that my mother was here with us, she's happy and at peace. We're told she's with relatives who've passed, there's an older, happy man who stays in our guest bedroom, the mammogram was a wake-up call, we'll get pregnant naturally and there was one spirit whom my mother watches over that has not been born yet, a little boy ... supposedly our little boy. I didn't know what to think - my skepticism grew, yet I held on to the possibility that it could be true ... something in me said I should.

Now whether anyone reading this believes it or not, it's the hope and the slightest chance that I cling to. Whether she can truly see and feel things is subjective, I'm well aware of that, but it's my faith that allows me to think it's possible.

After she left, I had time to think ... and as I recall the first negative pregnancy test, the first failed artificial insemination, the first failed in-vitro, it's the hope and the chance that it would work the second, third and fourth time that allowed us to persevere ... I have to believe anything's possible.

Wake up call

What an experience. As I returned to the Kapi`olani Breast Center, changed into the spa-like robe and took a seat in the waiting area I glanced around the room and saw beautiful women - young and old, Asian, Caucasian and Polynesian, each of us anxious to find out what our futures held - in that moment I realized how important it is for us to get to know our bodies, especially our breasts.

I'm happy to report after today's tests, there's no mass, just one small cyst that's not life-threatening. I've been instructed to get another mammogram in six months - because of the dense tissue in my breasts, I may be more susceptible to suspicious growths in the future, but for now, I can breathe a sigh of relief.

It didn't hit me how much I wished my mother could've been there with me today until I met one of the women in the waiting room. She had piercing blue/green eyes, wore a shade of mauve nail polish my mother would've liked and she had a smile that I'm sure in her "day" would light up a room ... and then she spoke. It hit me like a mac truck, she was German, had an accent to match and sounded just like mom. We talked briefly about the wait time and I made her a cup of water all while exchanging reassuring glances and smiles ... but her concern for me was genuine ... I never got her name, but I want to thank her for her kindness and I wish her the best.

During the minutes I waited for my results, I learned that 85 percent of suspicious mammograms turn out to be benign growths, cysts and dense tissue, that benign tumors are common but one in eight women will be diagnosed with cancer.

While I know things could've gone a very different way today, I want to commend breast cancer survivors everywhere - your courage is inspiring. The last three days filled with "what ifs" and "why me's" was a taste of reality ... and a reason for my renewed commitment to being the best wife, daughter, sister and friend that I can be ...

A good friend thanked me today for blogging about my experience, that it's a good reminder for all of us to get checked ... I have my experience to thank ... while this isn't a part of "our journey" I had bargained for, it's a lesson learned, a wake-up call I can thank the mammography team at Kapi`olani's Breast Center for.

Happy Birthday to me ...

I'm 35 today. As we began the process to begin fertility treatment, I was instructed to get a baseline mammogram, considering my mom just died from cancer. However, I thought getting one wouldn't be something I needed to think about till I was at least 40, but I'm all about preventative measures ... so off to the breast center I went.

I asked around about what to expect with a mammogram and I got an array of "not so bad" stories to "you're going to cry." As I arrived at the Kapi`olani Breast Center I thought ... I'll get this done and I'll be good for a year. After watching my breasts twisted and turned into positions I thought were humanly impossible - I left with my red rose (courtesy of the Breast Center) and looked forward to celebrating my 35th year of life with friends and family.

After a wonderful lunch with friends, I got "the call." I need to go back for more tests ... they saw two nodules, one in each breast. All I could think was "could this really be happening?" My emotions got the best of me and I sobbed at my desk ... of course I don't know much right now, but all I could do was think the worst.

Of all days ... this wasn't only my 35th birthday, it was my first birthday without my mother ... what I would've given to hear her annual "happy birthday my girl," but I especially missed her after getting that phone call - she's who I called when something went wrong or right, my voice of reason - my best friend.

I'm told more tests will happen on Thursday and I'll find out if I truly have a reason to fear my future. My mind continues to race. I've thought about everything ... from could this really be happening to will this stop me from pursuing my dream of one day becoming a mother?

If I have to look at the glass half-full - early detection is key even if it turns out to be nothing!

All clear

It was sort of a surreal moment in imaging today ... surrounded by two doctors, one radiologist and a nurse I watched as my uterus made its debut on interactive TV ... well not really, but it was weird nonetheless. Doctor explained that my fallopian tubes looked "good," no blockage! A small victory as far as my baby-making "issues" go. As I laid here, all I could think of was ... hmmm, so that's where the baby would be ... wow, wouldn't that be something?

After a few uncomfortable moments my doctor explained that everything looks normal except for some polyps which means another stint in same-day surgery come April ... he said they not only get in the way of conception, but they harbor a host of other issues ... something I can definitely do without.

My blood pressure was through the roof ... had to stop one of my medications in case we conceive ... but I think my anxiety got the best of me ... feeling better now - but makes me wonder if I can't handle the pressure of a simple imaging test, how can my heart handle carrying a baby? Can't get worked up about it now ... one thing at a time. wooooohhhhhsssssaaaaaa.

Back to basics ...

As I mentioned - our journey really began eight years ago when we decided it was time to try for a baby. I had been diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) in my early twenties - but no one really talked about how it may affect my chances of conceiving a child ... until I did some research.



I learned that 1 in 4 women are affected with PCOS, a condition that affects the reproductive hormones. Weight gain, acne, irregular menstural cycles and no ovulation cycle are just a few of the symptoms of the syndrome ... I had every symptom; and every website, magazine article and book said the same thing - PCOS can cause infertility. I was devastated, after trying for two years on our own we began the long, exhausting and emotionally taxing journey to conception.



Fast forward four years, three artificial inseminations and two in-vitros later ... not to mention the massage therapists, acupuncturists and herbalists I saw along the way and still no baby.



Now, eight years later it begins all over again. With the financial and emotional burden of past attempts on my mind - the anxiety is starting to build again. With every child's cry in a restaurant or the coo of a baby in his/her mother's arms, my hopes reach new heights ... could this be our time, would I actually be a mother some day soon?



A local doctor believes so - and I'm convinced that he's responsible for saving my life just 10 days before Christmas in 2008. I required a hospital stay and four pints of blood ... uterine polyps caused me to hemorrhage - if it weren't for finding his card in my purse I'm not sure where I'd be ... he nursed me back to health and we recently met with him to talk about next steps. Thrilled to see my body was on the mend - he's taking us back to basics. I'm scheduled for a hysterospalingogram to see if my fallopian tubes are clear ... a test that should've taken place years ago. We're starting from scratch ... with renewed strength and hope we're anxious and apprehensive all at the same time.

The strength to continue ...

I never imagined that my mother wouldn't be here to see us continue the journey to parenthood that began nearly 8 years ago. Stricken with lung cancer, my mother died within 2 months of her diagnosis ... not nearly enough time for us to accept that she wouldn't be here if we ever had "good news."

During one of mom's many hospital stays, I sat on the edge of her bed and we cried together. I cried because I was a losing a mother, she cried because she was leaving us before she was ready - she wanted to see her 3 grandchildren grow and wished she could see a grandchild from her only daughter.

As we prepare for the pills, injections and doctor's visits I think of my mother. Through two failed in-vitros she was there, through countless negative pregnancy tests, she was there and through numerous hospital stays, needles and surgeries mom was always there.

Mom was always an inspiration and while many think we should wait until I've mourned my mother - I tell them it's her strength and will that's a part of me, and she'd want us to continue ... that is why our journey begins.