My Happy Place

So we're here, jetlagged and exhausted, but well fed and quite happy with our little apartment in Paris. I'm the only one left awake since my travel companions are all tucked in bed, where I really should be.

The plane ride was surprisingly nice. We flew a charter, with many reservations since the last time we traveled to Europe our flight was horrendous. Lucky for us we had an empty seat to spread out in and although we were in coach, we had enough room to stretch out and get some rest.

We got our baggage and got on the RER to Paris with little effort, but I had my first little adventure when we tried to change from RER to the metro. I got stuck in a door! For those of you that have not travelled the Paris underground when you change from regional train (the RER) to the metro you have to go through a passthrough (I'm too tired to figure out the right words to describe it!) and in order to pass you have to insert your train ticket. Well my friend JY inserted her ticket but only one of the doors opened so she couldn't get through. In my infinite wisdom I told her to just go through with me -- something doable if you're a single person with no luggage. Well JY got through and I got stuck. I credit my extreme flexibility (yay yoga!) for getting me out of the door thinger. Mr. JB apparently was pretty worried since he had no idea what to do AND on top of it he has tennis elbow and can barely move his arm. Needless to say, we all had a good laugh.

We got to our rental apartment in the 13th arrondissement and were all pleasantly surprised. French standards of apartments are very different from those in North America. The apartment isn't palatial, but we do have a washer and dryer and a dishwasher! The 13th is a great neighbourhood and it's within walking distance to the Latin quarter. JY and I foraged for some food at the local Franprix grocery store and we brought the boys a baguette and some goodies for their post-nap treat.

It's amazing how quickly I feel at home in Paris. I sometimes think that I feel more at home here that I do in Toronto. There's something that's so alive and exotic about this city that I haven't felt anywhere else. Honestly, I would be completely content to sit a the brasserie around the corner for the next week and people watch.

So off I go to bed before I just start typing gibberish. Bonne nuit everyone, I'm blowing you all kisses from the other side of the Atlantic!

Frustration knocking

I've been coasting on some impartial feelings regarding my lack of fertility for a few weeks now. And although a clear diagnosis has made my barrenness bearable (for now), feelings of jealousy and envy have come back with a vengeance.

I've received quite a bit of fertile news as of late. My crazy mother phoned me all in a tizzy to tell me that my cousin and his wife have adopted an 18 month old baby girl from Children's Aid (they are the same cousins that went through IF treatments for almost ten years before conceiving their beautiful daughter). My aunt is really upset that this new baby is not going to look like her biological granddaughter and she got my crazy mother all wound up about it. I kept on telling my mother that they always wanted more kids but I new that my cousin's wife wasn't ready to put her body through the rigours of IF treatments. She's said more than once that she was happy having an only (and I've told her time and time again that I really enjoy being one). It was my cousin that was pushing for a second. I personally think that it's the best compromise. Honestly, I'll never understand why my family members get all worked up about some things!

The second tidbit of fertility is that one of my mom's closest friend's daughter has gotten herself in a family way. It's a pretty big scandal since the daughter got married at city hall and not in the church (something unheard of in my culture of almost fanatic Catholicism) AND that she's 26! Now one would think that at the mature age of 26 one would be able to either make the choice to not have children and not get accidentally knocked up and have a shotgun wedding. I know plenty of 26 year olds that have gotten married then had children. Then again, I know that I sound like a bitter barren lady, but really now!

Yesterday, at my cousin's baby shower (that he threw for his wife AND gave out thank you cards as the guests were leaving! How tacky! The card even said, from Baby E, P and J, argh!), my mother told me that a friends 16 year old daughter has also gotten herself knocked up. I'm not a stranger to teenage pregnancy. All through high school girls were getting themselves in "trouble." Hell, even my cousin got knocked up when she was 16 and my cousin got his girlfriend pregnant last year. But every time I hear of yet another teenager getting pregnant I just feel like knocking my head against a wall. We've been trying for almost THREE YEARS, gone to numerous doctors, read books, gotten tested, been patient, prayed had others pray for us. It just felt like another kick in the teeth.

And lastly, at the baby shower yesterday we got the customary, "So when are you going to have kids?" questions. At least this time I could deflect them with our trip to Europe. But with all of the baby shower festivities (as few as they were at this particular shower) it was hard to ignore my nagging feelings of jealousy. My cousin and his wife (both who are 5 years younger than me) got pregnant by accident. And the clincher was that they got pregnant in the fall -- the best time for a teacher to get pregnant. I had to bite my tongue when I heard that they were having a girl and I was secretly hoping that the shower was going to be held while we were away. But alas, it wasn't.

I don't know how many more times I'm going to be able to stomach being around fertile people before I lose my mind.

I did get to sit with one of my parents' friends that struggled for more than 16 years to get pregnant. I remember when I was choosing which universities to apply to they announced that they were miraculously pregnant. This couple had gotten married around the same time my parents did and they thought they couldn't have children. But when my mom's friend turned 48 she found out that she was pregnant. She calls it a miracle that her daughter was born full term and healthy. As far as I know they didn't undergo any IF treatments when they did get pregnant. I remember being a teenager and hearing her say that her daughter should've been my age and that we should've be friends. Their story definitely gives me hope. I know that I've explored every avenue to ensure that I will one day have a baby, and I've been assured that with all of the antibiotics and progesterone therapy that I'm on will result in a baby-ready uterus.

I just wish that I didn't have hear about so many women getting knocked up by accident.

I hope they know how lucky they all are, because I sure as hell know that they are.

Travelling light

I am officially excited. In seven days Mr. JB and I will be leaving for our European vacation. It was two years in the making and entailed a ton of saving, but we're almost there. In the back of my mind I was hoping that I would be carting a little JellyBelly with us, but just the thought of a lovely Paris evening eating some tasty French dish, almost erases that bit of sadness.

I spent a year and a half "working" (really, my ten hour Parisian work week that involved a lot more partying and shopping really didn't classify as work in the North American sense) at a university just outside of Paris. I had just gotten used to the idea that teaching was what I wanted to do -- I had fought tooth and nail again the notion that I would become a teacher like my grandmother, great-grandfather and numerous great-aunts. My parents had loftier ideas for my future. They would've preferred a Dr. JellyBelly or a lawyer JellyBelly, but instead they got a mostly happy elementary school teacher. And since I'm at the start of a two month vacation, I really couldn't imagine a better profession! Just don't ask me in the middle of cold and flu season with a bunch of snotty six years if I like my job!

Paris is my happy place. Whenever I feel sad and melancholy I imagine myself walking down a tree-lined boulevard in my old neighbourhood with the sun breaking through the leafy branches. There were many days while I was living in France that I would have to pinch myself. I always felt like I was on the cusp of waking up from an amazing dream, but day after day I would awake and it was definitely real.

I came into myself living in my little fourteen square metre apartment in the 14th arrondissement. It was the first time that I was truly on my own, without the safety net of my family and friends. It was also the loneliest times of my life. I had left behind a boyfriend, that I really should've broken up with before leaving, but who hung around because I was leaving for a year and a half. I shook him once, only to have him coming leaching back before I was to return home. But I'm certain that if it wasn't for my sojourn in Paris, I never would've had the courage to finally pack my bags and leave him for good.

I was never meek or mild, but pre-France JellyBelly had a really hard time standing up for herself. I used to have a hard time stomaching the fact that people wouldn't like me, but I also learned fast that if I didn't stand up for myself (and sometimes it required yelling and swearing, in both English and French) no one would do it for me. If I had only one lesson to take away from my months on Paris, it was to be brave. If it wasn't for the France experience, I'm sure that I wouldn't be the JellyBelly that Mr. JB married -- he has a hard time believing that I was ever a pushover and that I had a hard time standing up for myself!

I can't wait to play tour guide and show Mr. JB all of my old haunts -- the trivial things like the little grocer and the Chinese take-away down the street from old place, where I used to buy roasted chicken and my baguettes and most of all the tree-lined boulevard that I've imagined over and over again.

My biggest question is: how do I pack light for this adventure? I have it in my head that I'm taking ONE bag and ONE backpack (which will house the laptop, of course). I've never been a light packer, but every time I travel I always kick myself for taking way too much stuff that I don't wear or use. I've decided on a mostly black and white wardrobe with a couple of hints of colour to shake things up. I also have three pairs of footwear in mind: running shoes, comfy, but stylish black sandals and black flip flops for trips to the beach. Any advice? I don't want to stress out too much, but I promised Mr. JB that I wouldn't make him throw his back out (as he did on our honeymoon to Italy and Greece!) carting around my bags.

Advice? Assvice? Anything is welcome.

Btw, Happy Fourth of July to all of you north of the border!

Happy 141!

So I think that I've finally eased into vacation mode as the rest of the country celebrates Canada Day. It may have taken a few days of unwinding and many, many naps to help out my sleep debt that I incurred over the past ten months of teaching, but I'm ready to face some serious downtime.

Last summer instead of taking the two months off to rest and relax I decided to take a summer course. Not only did I have to wake up an hour earlier to get to this class, I also had to drive over an hour to get there. Although the class was great and I'm sure that it helped me get my new position, it was a long haul. So really, this is my first long stretch of vacation since the summer of 2006.

[insert happy sigh here]

My last day of school wasn't as emotional as I thought it would be. The kiddies only got really tearful at the end of the day (one of them had to come back for at least five hugs), I knew that in my heart that I had made the right decision. My twelve boxes have grown a little bit and I also packed away some furniture (my ergonomic desk chair, some shelving and my reading nook). All in all, it doesn't seem like too much. Perhaps it will all hit me when I return in August to move it to the new school. Perhaps not.

I've finished my brutal course of antibiotics. Not only did I have EVERY SINGLE side effect, it was just a pain to take. I've never been happier to have only eight different meds to take, rather than ten! I have noticed that AF was at least four days shorter than it was last month and hopefully, even shorter for the next cycle. I know that I'm due for another month-long bout with antibiotics to actually treat the ureaplasma, but hopefully it won't be too bad (I'm always the optimist). Now I'm wondering, since I did see a difference with my period, does it mean that I had the endometrial bacteria? I'm thinking yes, but I'm not a doctor.

I finally mustered up the courage to meet Mr. JB's best friend's baby (if you're interested in the back story see here). They hosted a barbecue on Saturday and I had run out of excuses not to go. And although it took me a long time to actually hold him, I did without having to run to the bathroom in tears. When we arrived and he was being passed around I couldn't help thinking, "They fight all the time, really they shouldn't have gotten married, but look they have this beautiful baby." But after a couple more babies arrived, I got distracted -- why is it that I have an easier time with the babies of people that I like????

I guess my barrenness is easier to handle now that I have a solution to my problem -- although it seems to be taking a LONG time to get solved. Since we went to the Marguerite Bourgeoys centre in February, it has taken a lot of patience to get to this point. I think that having the thought of the fall being prime baby-making season is helping me cope with all of the IF business. Also having the new position and the new school to distract me is also good.

So here I am, looking forward to a summer full of a an awesome vacation, yoga, good books, no visits to evil infertility clinics and being hopeful. I think that I may just have to put my feet up....

Happy birthday Canada!

Twelve boxes

So I'm done. I've packed up my classroom. All of the posters have been packed away and the only thing left on my desk is a couple of pencils and my planning binder. Six years of teaching at my school is now tucked into a storage room until my new classroom is ready for me in August.

I spoke to one of the moms in my class this afternoon. Whenever I get messages from parents in my mailbox I always feel dread. You see, my parents are VERY involved. I get calls for everything. Notes almost every day. Surprise visits are normal. So this afternoon when I saw the green message in my box I felt dread. But as a good, responsible teacher I mustered up the energy to phone.

Little E's mom was concerned that her son wanted to return to his home school. She wanted to know if there had been anything going on in the class. Maybe it was the other kids or someone was bothering him. Then I asked, "Could it be because I'm leaving?" And then she said that she didn't want to come out and say it, but she definitely thought it was.

And then I felt my heart break.

Little E is a great kid. Super energetic, smart, funny, but would drive most teachers crazy. I've managed his boisterous behaviour by making him the kid that collects anything and everything. He delivers messages around the school for me. He gets to stamp my tests and pile things in order for me. He has sat at the front of the room for most of the year, right in front of my main work table. I've joked time and time again that he's going to spend the rest of his life in grade five since he can't sit still and pay attention and he thinks that it's hilarious. We banter about our opposing hockey teams (Mr. JB has brought so much sports knowledge in my life! I totally have street cred with the boys!). And because he likes me (well, his mom has mentioned more than once that she's convinced that he has a crush on me -- how cute!) he listens to me and knows when he's gone too far.

I don't regret my decision to apply for the job that I got. And as I've tried to explain to a room of ten year olds: if I didn't apply for the job I would regret it for the rest of my life. I've tried to explain to them that after six years of doing the same thing I was getting so bored. All of this makes sense to adults, but to kids I'm just leaving.

I really hope that the next two days aren't going to be too painful. I know that the school will be presenting me with my going away gift at an assembly tomorrow afternoon so hopefully I won't dissolve into tears in front of 400 kids.

I'm not good at saying goodbye and I'm definitely not good with change, but I guess I have no choice since I'm definitely not going to unpack all of those boxes.

More questions

So I was right. Mr. JB and I visited my Napro doctor on Friday (who only has walk-in hours in the summer, thus we had a THREE AND A HALF hour wait) and she has given me yet another diagnosis. When we saw her in May she suspected that my 14 day periods were being caused by low progesterone and perhaps a uterine bacteria. Well, the results came in positive. I have ureaplasma (which sounds kinda gross) and she's also decided that she is going to treat me for an endometrial infection although she doesn't want to do a biopsy.

So here I am, with more pills to take. Since I've always been pretty sickly I've had a laundry list of meds. So this is what I have to take to keep me going:

1) Prenatal vitamins
2) 5 mg of Folic Acid (not only am I prevent neural tube defects for my future children, it also helps with Colitis)
3) Sublingual B12 (which apparently helps with the absorption of Folic Acid)
4) An Omega supplement
5) Flovent (for asthma)
6)Flonase (for allergies)
7) Imuran (to treat my Colitis)
8) Singulair (for asthma)
9) Metamucil (for Colitis)
10) Progesterone (in troche form from Peak +3 to +12)

And for the next ten days I'm on 500mg of Clarithromycin and 500mg of Metronidazole as well as some Acidophilis in hopes of not getting a yeast infection (cross your fingers!).

Now, it doesn't always bother me that I have to take so many meds. It's part of my daily routine. Mr. JB even doles out my nighttime pill regimen before we go to bed. But I've been particularly down about having to take antibiotics. Besides being blessed with a body that doesn't work, I also have numerous allergies, including those to various antibiotics. I've been taken to the emergency ward more than once because of adverse reactions to medications. Although I'm free and clear with the new meds, I'm suffering from all of the side effects. I've had a headache, a metallic taste in my mouth, dizziness, and nausea since Friday night -- which is not as bad as hives, cold sweats and delirium (my reaction to sulfa).

Really, I should be happy that my doctor has found something that is treatable that doesn't require invasive surgery. Taking pills is something that I'm used to doing. I'm also glad that my doctor is vigilant about my treatment and that she doesn't want to subject me to painful surgeries. She's also very thoughtful: she decided that since we're travelling most of next month that she's going to start me on my month-long antibiotic run when we return from Europe (which is going to treat the ureaplasma).

But even though I am a rational woman, I'm also frustrated.

I know that it's the end of year and that I'm absolutely exhausted. I'm also very emotional since I'm leaving my school and starting something unfamiliar. So having more meds to take, just seems that much more daunting. I'm also waiting for my teaching partner to finish her portion of our report cards (which are TEN DAYS late at this point, WTF?????) which means that I feel like I can't relax although I've been done since Tuesday.

But like any good soldier in the IF world, I've got to struggle forward and hope that this treatment will bring me that much closer to a baby.

Right?

Spinning my wheels

Although I'm so glad that school is going to be done on the 26th I always feel strangely stressed out at this time of year. I guess this year end is bringing the sadness of leaving my school and my students as well as a move (that hopefully won't be too painful) to an unfamiliar situation, so I think that I have an excuse.

I broke the news to my class that I was leaving this morning and I ended up with kids breaking down and crying for most of the morning. One girl started and then they all seemed to start. I tried to explain to them that it was a good opportunity, but it's hard to reason with ten year olds. You see, I usually teach my class for two years in a row. In our Middle Immersion program that starts in grade five I teach the 5's in the morning and the 6's in the afternoon. The sixes didn't react too badly since I wasn't going to be their teacher anyway. I'm very proud of myself that I didn't cry along with the kiddies (something that I've done more than once), but I guess I should feel good that they were so upset. I really hope that they're nice to the new teacher....

So not only am I procrastinating -- I'm almost finished my report cards, but I just can't seem to compel myself to finish them! -- I'm absolutely exhausted. I'm feeling better with this round of progesterone troches (which I'm definitely getting in a different flavour next month, the "strawberry" flavouring is not tasty at all), but now I'm spotting again. I'm at Peak +9 today (I think 10 DPO, if I have my lingo right) and I was told that the progesterone would make my cycles longer. Alas, two months of progesterone and nothing has changed. Does anyone have any advice? I'm going to see my doc on Friday and hopefully she will have some advice, but I'm also scared that she's going to put me on antibiotics for a uterine infection (when I saw her in May she did a Pap test and my cervix started to bleed and she suspects that I have an infection, although I can't remember what it's called!). I'm just hoping that if I do have to take antibiotics that she can find one that I'm not allergic to since I'm allergic to all of the major ones.

I can't wait until July 11th. I am in serious need of a vacation!
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Update: I just finished my report cards. Let's hope that my teaching partner finds some giddy up so she's done before Friday!!!! AND I also figured our GoogleReader. I think that I've found a way to read my favourite blogs at school! Woohoo!

Suprisingly sad

I'm married to a political junkie, and I married into a family that loves to discuss politics, especially American. So needless to say, I'm quite saddened that Tim Russert has passed away so suddenly.

Mr. JB gets up early every Sunday morning and watches his show Meet the Press religiously before mass every Sunday. He missed last Sunday's episode because he was away with the boys and he watched the podcast so he didn't miss anything. I would have to say that Mr. JB and his brother are his biggest fans (apparently my BIL started to cry when he called Mr. JB with the news). Although I'm already supersaturated with the current presidential campaign, I really enjoyed watching Tim on TV, which says a lot since I tried to avoid watching too much.

It's so sad when someone so talented and dedicated to his work passes away so suddenly.

God bless you Mr. Russert, you will be missed.

Filling time

So now that I know that it won't be all systems go for serious baby-making until the early fall, I've had fun finding things to do.

Now that summer has finally hit (it's been 33 degrees with humidity for three days) and I'm counting down until the end of the school year, I'm feeling pretty good. I've gotten all of my summer clothes out and have put away all of the lined wooly pants. I haven't worn socks in over two weeks AND my eco-grass is finally sprouting. I may even get around to planting flowers to keep my perennials company.

My favourite thing about the summer is our local dragon boat festival. I've always loved rowing, or paddling as the die-hards call it. Being on the water is my favourite thing in the world. Although I love yoga and it is an absolutely necessity to keep me sane, there is nothing like the joy that I feel when I'm paddling. We had our first practice with my team last week and we had our second and final practice yesterday. My muscles are quite sore, but I can't wait until the race on the 15th. Last year my team won a gold medal -- my first ever! If we ever won the lottery one of my first purchases would be my very own kayak, but I think that I'm going to have to settle for my own life jacket this year!

So I'm feeling at peace, for the first time since TTC. And I like it.

Let's hope that it lasts.

And then there were fifty

When I started my blog in the early days of January, I had absolutely no foresight as to where it was going -- something that is totally unlike my type-A, planner-o-holic self. Perhaps I was hoping that I would miraculously find myself pregnant, or perhaps I thought that I would find solace or perhaps I would find answers as to why I could not get knocked up.

So six months later, I haven't succeeded in getting knocked up, although I have a much clearer idea as to why (stupid progesterone!), but I have found many wonderful women that have supportive me through, many, many low points. I have hit rock bottom more than once and felt that I was never, ever, going to see the light at the end of the tunnel. But I have gotten through it.

If it wasn't for my blog, I wouldn't have found my wonderful NaproTechnology doctor who has finally listened to me. From early on in my struggle to get pregnant I knew (from obsessively reading info on Google and taking every book out of the public library) that I had an issue with my progesterone levels. I had three different doctors tell me that there was nothing wrong with me and that unexplained infertility was a common diagnosis. I endured painful tests and the dildocam way too many times. I felt as though I was just a set of malfunctioning reproductive organs with no feelings or concerns or even opinions that counted. I know that it wasn't a coincidence that I came upon Blogger and yet another sister in struggle found me and gave me the information that I needed.

I do not believe in coincidences.

Although life has gotten in the way of regular posting, I always knew (and know) that as soon as I log into my account, that I had somewhere to go where people understood how hard it is to be barren. And thank God for that.

So on this, my fiftieth blog-niversary, I have found myself at a good place. Finally.

I know that am so lucky to have finally found an answer, and although the progesterone I good for eight days made me feel like a truck had run over me, I know that it is going to lead me to my baby. I didn't have to compromise my beliefs and personal ethics in order to get me closer to my goal.

Good things have happened, despite all of the cold and darkness: I got a new job (woohoo!), I've met wonderful, supportive friends that understand exactly what I'm going through, I've planned and booked an awesome European vacation for July. Most of all, I didn't drive a gigantic barren wedge between myself and Mr. JB. It's amazing what words on a website can do!

So as I wait for my NaproTechnology doc to give me the green light for optimal conception time (hopefully in time for a fourteen month maternity leave!), I'm going to have to find a new focus for my little space in the bloggosphere. So stay tuned for a much happier, positive space. I know that the next month is not going to be free of sadness. I know that leaving my very first school to move onto the next phase of my career is going to be difficult (I am dreading telling my students. I already had a breakdown when I read my job posting!). But as I look at the calendar I can count the number of days until summer vacation, and most of all, I can say, "Next month, I'm going to Europe!"

So gentle readers, perhaps I'm on my way to being less frustrated, perhaps not. I just hope that I have some help blowing out my fifty candles!