Glowing!

It was only my second day away, but I was already homesick.  I started out the door to work on a dreary day and it began to lightly rain.

Great.

But I really didn't mind too much. I was still in a good mood from a Real Results Party I had hosted at a favorite local restaurant the night before and I was almost to the corner coffee shop today. I was feeling energized from a good night's sleep and the fresh air of a brisk morning walk.

Today would be a good day.

And it was.  I got a few things done in person that I hadn't been able to remotely and got to meet our new designers working out of Savannah, Ga. and introduce them to our brand. Before I knew it, the work day was over. As I walked back to the corporate house, the sun began to shine.

I opened the curtains and plopped on the couch in front of the big picture window that faces the street and started to dial my husband hoping for some Facetime. My connection was bad, but I noticed that I had a little sunshine on my shoulder from the phone glare. And yes, it made me happy.

(...and so sorry that you will now have that song also stuck in your head!)

I took a selfie and sent it to the hubz, to which he replied, "I knew it. You're GLOWING!"

Let's hope!

Tiny Dancer

It's the day of my youngest niece's annual dance recital, the one we've been going to every since she was just a toddler. Her mother was a dancer as was her mother before her. My husband...well, he married a woman with two left feet.

Everything about dance seems to come naturally to "Sass". Her many competition ribbons and trophies and certificates and wins prove it. A once-shy girl comes to life on stage. It's where she is meant to be.

Each year as she grows older in age and grows up in disposition, we get a glimpse of the little young lady she is becoming. She may never know the special place she holds in my heart forever.

I've had aunts on both sides of my family in the past, but only one that is still in my life that has known me from birth. Who held me when I was brought home from Hawaii and who loved me from a distance even before that day. Like me to Sass, she married into the family and so was not related by blood but by heart. Like me to Sass, she babysat me and didn't miss a birthday or recital or just a chance to hang out. But kids get bigger, schedules get filled and interests and obligations grow wider. There is a time when you are an aunt in just title. Someone who shows up for birthdays and recitals. Like me to Sass, that first bond is never broken and while she may not know it yet, I would do anything for her and love and protect her like a second mom. I hope I get many opportunities for her to feel just how big she has filled my life - just like I have recently been reminded just how much I am loved by my 'first' aunt.

Back at the recital, the hubs and I arrived late and grabbed a seat on the end of the family aisle. We had great seats this year and I couldn't wait to see our little star shine. At one point in the marathon of tapping shoes and pointed toes, Sass' Memo stumbled through our narrow aisle to use the restroom. Upon returning, she stopped right in front of me and leaned down to tell me that she had a dream about me last night. One in which I was holding a baby girl.

I was speechless.

This was not someone who knew of our endeavors. She had no knowledge that on this very day, I had completed my second round of IUI. She had no idea that miracles could very well be happening inside my hormone-packed body at that very moment.

Before she moved away back through the tangle of legs to her seat, I pulled her down to me and gave her a tight hug and simply said, "Thank you." She replied, "I've had premonitions like this before and they usually come true. So you just never know!"

A baby girl. Like all those beautiful little girls up on stage. Like OUR amazing little girl on stage up next. I could barely control my tears of mixed emotion as she walked out and absolutely lit up that stage.

Enough

Nobody wants to leave this earth without having a meaningful life. One that fulfilled a hope, a dream or a purpose. One that mattered.

Even more than that, we want to leave behind a legacy; to have made an impact that lasts long after we're gone. For some, that's by living in the hearts and souls of their children and their children after them. For some it is much more.

For me, it's a struggle of self. I bounce between feeling lost and alone to trusting there is something amazing about to happen. As the only child in a childless home, I'm faced with the mortality of my existence on a daily basis.

When it comes to being a mother, in one breath I envy them - all of them; their purpose so obviously defined and the reward so easily included while in the next breath, I feel sorry for those who don't look outside of their own children to build a legacy. Successful and happy children are the product of the job we are required to do in answer to a blessing from God, not something above and beyond as a result of realizing the true gift we were given to share with the world.  But who am I to decide or judge or even have an opinion here.

In the midst of all this philosophizing, my husband and I went to see "The Fault in Our Stars", the story of two teenagers who met at a cancer support group and share a love that sweeps them on a miraculous, heart-wrenching and soul-searching journey.

When the curtain closed, both of us were spent. We sat there stunned and wrapped in our own thoughts. Long after the credits rolled, we were still there. Then Todd spoke. And as he always does, he told me how much he loves me and while he doesn't show it much, he told me about how he smiles and is overwhelmed sometimes when I'm not looking.  Wow.

And me?  I was struck with the realization that in all my searching and giving up, in bouncing back and falling down again, I've ignored the obvious. That my life does matter. It may not matter wide...but it matters deep. It matters to him.

I heard Todd's voice in that of Hazel when she tries to impress the fact to Gus that he has had a major impact on other people. "I just want to be enough for you, but I never can be. This can never be enough for you. But this is all you get. You get me, and your family and this world. This is your life. And it should be enough."

I may not have the kind of life that inspires a book-turned-movie and I may never get a life full of a child's laughter and tears, of growing up and growing old - but I have him. He matters to me and for some reason and somehow, he sees me as important and enough.

I love this man.

Days Go By

"Day Turns into Night" by KayBird

My days are turning into nights and one month just runs into the next.  Am I coming?  Am I going?  I don't know, but I'm not there yet!

Woah.

I think I just wrote my first lyrics to a song for the everybody.  But seriously, it sure goes by so fast.  And now I just sound old...

But today marks a new day!  Ok, it's really day 3.  Or Day 5, depending on how you look at it.  Evening 3, to be more precise.  Evening 3 of Clomid.  I read somewhere that taking it at night makes the side effects.  I then read somewhere else that while this is true, taking it in the morning increases the chances that follicles will mature before IUI.  I've since stopped the Google madness.

My dosage has increased from 50mg (1 pill) to 150mg (3 pills).  The pharmacist gave me a sympathetic expression when I picked up the medication.  He asked if I had any questions.  I didn't.  He wished me luck.  

Awkward!

50mg produced multiple follicles, but only one that was fully developed.  Our first treatment in April was unsuccessful, but is used as a baseline to proceed. So forge ahead we will!

So as days go by...I feel good.  No hot flashes (yet).  No crazy food cravings (yet).  No nausea or feeling like a fish full of eggs that needed to be gutted (yet).  Nothing exciting to report (YET!). 

The Promise of a New Day

I cried today. I cried for the first time in over a month. The last time, I blamed clomid and estrogen. Today, I blame a weary heart.

It's strange, really. While I'm taking myself way out of my comfort zone today, I do have a full day and weekend planned here in Oshkosh. As I prepare for it through the ritual of morning, I seek ten minutes of personal development and ten more minutes of God. I found myself searching a bit harder for inspiration of happiness. Something. Anything on this gray and cloudy day.

Then, as I sat down to catch up on a few bills online, I got to the one I had been avoiding; the reproductive center. Once it was done. I cried. And I haven't stopped.

I cry because I feel so blessed to have family who paid this for me. Family members who not only gave their hard-earned money towards Baby Reuscher, but gave their love and their hope. And while a ridiculous notion, I cry because I feel like I failed them. I cry because our first attempt in April was a bust. I cry because I wasn't able to try again in May. I cry because I'm scared about trying again. I cry because last time I sat on this couch alone, I didn't leave it for days and I've allowed this moment to take me back to that time when I mourned the loss of my Nugget.

So I pay my bill. I give myself 10 minutes of grief. I write to you all. And I move forward.

Because as I type, I just realized that the sun has come out. The sky is bright with scant poufs of soft white clouds dancing way up high, drawing my eyes towards the heavens and reminding me of the promise of the rainbow. The Holy Spirit inside of my is strong. Today, it leads me back to peace and personal greatness!

The Waiting Game

This was an eventful weekend! 

It began Friday morning with an appointment at the reproductive center to monitor the progress of my cycle. An ultrasound showed four follicles, with only one being matured over 20mm. This was considered 'good enough' and so I received an hCG shot to trigger ovulation. 

After work, Todd and I had a date with our Littles. I began feeling nauseous.

Noah and the Great Flood

And so it was, in the beginning...

As the ultimate story of faith, sacrifice and hope began to unfold on the movie screen, so did the genesis of my emotional meltdown. Epic. Apocalyptic. And completely hormonal.

Let's back up a few days.