The Little Lotus Project Returns

 

December of 2022 was the last time I actually published a blog post. I have several drafts, but I couldn't find the wording. In 2019, we closed a big chapter in our lives - deciding there was no possible way we would have a child together. I know it was the right choice. Since 2019's excision surgery for endometriosis where the implanted an IUD, I have not had to have another surgery. Prior to that, within a five year span I had five surgeries.

After that, I felt like I had nothing new to say, so why bother?

Last year, I wanted to "revamp" The Little Lotus Project and change the name to "Redefining Our Rainbow". A rainbow baby (if you haven't heard this term) is a baby born after loss. Seeing rainbow baby stories gives me mixed emotions. On one hand, I am so grateful another couple did not have the same outcome we did. On the other...there is our outcome, which was nothing but a mountain of medical debt. We decided our "rainbow" could still happen. We just need to find ways to create our own rainbow.

This year, I keep getting signs that it is time to bring back the blog, but with a different twist. I want to share our "signs" because they are pretty cool (at least in my opinion)

In March, Branson and I visited Union Station in St. Louis. It fell on March 17th...and it was the 9th anniversary of our first failed IVF cycle. I have not been to Union Station in a very long time. But, they have a water / fire feature that includes lotus flowers. I don't remember the last time I saw a lotus that wasn't a picture or tattoo. The thing is, we weren't supposed to be at Union Station. Our tradition is to go to Red Lobster because that's where we went March 17th nine years ago to "regroup". But they had a long wait, and we had limited time. 

 

 

For our 11th Anniversary, we headed back to STL. We went to the Aquarium and the Zoo. At the Zoo, there were once again lotus flowers. Again, to me a "sign" that this blog needed revived and there's still conversation to be had about infertility.

 

We never truly rose from the murk and mud of infertility and IVF loss. Maybe one day we will, albeit we may be a little damaged still. 

 

In July, we went to my hometown. It was a wonderful weekend away. On our way back, it was raining a little and we saw a rainbow. At one point, we could see both sides of the rainbow. It brought me some peace and made me rethink my decision to stop this blog.

I started this blog so others would not feel so alone in their journey with infertility. I wanted to educate, advocate, and help others struggling with the same journey feel less alone. But the murk is more than just infertility. There are so many things we all endure that try our emotional, physical, and spiritual capacity.

So here is my new mission: to share stories and struggles that few people want to talk about because it is still "taboo", like certain mental health issues. The mission is to continue to help people feel less alone and  share what worked for me in hopes of providing a blueprint or "sparking" something in others that helps them heal.

I already have several posts in mind and I am excited to finally be back to blogging. I know it is a bigger trend to post quick videos, but I write too much or talk too much on each subject I tackle for that to work. Plus, I love to write.

Thank you to everyone who has supported our journey and who continue to support and encourage us to keep moving forward. We love you.

To My Embabies in Heaven

We are nearing the anniversary of our second unsuccessful cycle.  Honestly, life happened so fast and I had so much going on after that cycle that I never took the time to process the loss.  If I were to be even more honest, I doubt I have fully comprehended the impact of our first unsuccessful cycle.  Throw in our third unsuccessful cycle in February/March of this year, and let's just say my brain did me a huge favor and shut itself down for a bit.

But the thing about grief is you can't ignore it forever.  You can try to shove it into a back corner of your brain, stacking other things on top of it, like worrying about others or busying yourself with work.  Eventually, things start clearing out and you're left staring at that box.

And this is where I stand now.  Staring at that box.  I can feel barriers breaking down as I frantically try to fix them by distracting myself.  Unfortunately, one can only keep this up for so long before the deterioration starts to outpace what you can do make repairs.

I wrote something similar to this in a past blog post.  But, I don't think I was 100% honest with how I felt.  It was more of a hopeful approach.  More of an approach of pride and wonder.  There was sadness, but I tried to keep it upbeat.  I focused on the embryos we lost.  Not on how I actually felt.

I hand wrote this letter to my embabies we lost.  I debated whether or not it would be just mine - even considered not sharing it with my husband.  My original intent was to just let it be mine.  Especially because I feel like people are telling me to just get over it and move on.  That at this point, I should just move on to the next thing.  That I should stop crying about it.  That I should have processed this by now.  That it's in the past and I can't change it, so it's time to quit the sob stories.

I feel like because of these notions that I should just "move on", you need to see a more raw side of what infertility and loss looks like.

So here it is, unfiltered.  I know I'm not the only one who has been there.  Even couples going through treatment who had a successful cycle can likely relate - because chances are during their process, they, too, felt loss.

To My Embabies in Heaven,

Hi there.  I know we have never met, but I am your mommy.  And while I never had you in my belly, a part of me was a part of you.  Some doctors and people will say you never existed because you wouldn't have survived.  I respectfully disagree.

From the moment I knew you existed, you were mine.  You had a future.  You had a family waiting to meet you.

I'm sorry.  I'm sorry if there was something more I should have or could have done differently that would have allowed you to be in this world with us.

Even though you existed for a very short period of time, I still feel "mom guilt".  I question what I did wrong.  I secretly blame myself for your death.

I think about you every day.  I wonder what my life would be like if you were here.

I don't know how I can miss, love, and grieve someone I never saw.  Never felt in my belly.  Never held in my arms.

But I held you in my heart.  And I think that's where I feel the loss of you the most.

I would have given my life for you to live.  I would have given up my wordly possessions just to see your face for a minute.

There are moments I wish I were dead because the loss of you is unbearable.

I feel like I have failed you.  I'm so sorry.  I'm sorry I'm here and you're not.  You would love your sister and daddy as much as I do.

My sweet angels - I love you.  I miss you.  I long to meet you.  For those brief moments I knew you existed, you were already my world.

I hope one day I get to meet you in heaven.  I feel like that is the only time and way I will feel at peace.

There is an empty place in my heart where you once were.  Nothing can fill that hole. 

I will try to be a person on this earth you can look down on and be proud of.  I am already proud of you.

All my love,

Your Mommy

Grieving Abstract Losses

 
I lost count of how many times I have started this post then deleted literally everything I wrote.  I don't like to write just for the sake of writing.  If the words aren't just right and the message isn't on my heart in a way that is meaningful, I can't pull the trigger on it.

Ever since our first failed cycle, I have struggled with processing loss.  In reality, this difficulty knowing how to properly grieve can really be traced back to my childhood.  I was adopted, so I never really "knew" my biological parents.  I lost them, but I never knew them.  So I guess in a way, my entire life has been spent trying to figure out how to grieve an abstract loss.

I'm sure there's some scientific or psychological definition for abstract loss or grief, but quite honestly if I research it myself I think I'd drive myself crazier than I already feel.  Instead, I prefer to put it in my own words, on my own terms.  Maybe my definition matches yours - maybe it won't - and that's ok.

Abstract loss... that gut feeling you have that cuts into every fiber of your soul.  Feeling like your heart is being ripped into shreds, the backs of your eyes burning as you fight to hold back tears.  You have all of the physical symptoms of indescribable sadness... yet your brain has trouble pin-pointing why you're feeling the way you do.  Your body aches and your brain hurts from the natural desire for it to KNOW and to PROCESS what is happening to you.  But you can't.  Because you can't exactly picture what you lost.  At least not in a way that is black and white, right in front of you.  Not in a way where you can say, "YES - I see it... this is what is making me sad, and here is how I fix it."

I couldn't do that with the loss of my biological parents.  I lost the two people that, as a baby, I thought were supposed to be there for me.  Poof.  They were gone.  I was too young to process what happened to me.  Instead, as an adult, more than 30 years later, I sometimes find myself reeling from the pain of losing them.  It's as if they died - but they didn't.  All I knew - and know - is they're gone.  Don't get me wrong - I am grateful for the life I had growing up - a life I wouldn't have if it weren't for my biological parents leaving the picture.  It doesn't negate the deep-rooted sense of abandonment and mistrust the loss of my biological parents has left seared into my heart. 

And so it is with the loss of our embryos.  I never knew them.  I never met them.  I never carried them inside of me.  But I know they existed.  I prepared for them.  We prepared for them.  Not just physically, but mentally as well.

We picked out names.  We had ideas for the nursery.  I actually bought a bracelet for the little that said "Big Sister" anticipating that I would soon get to give it to her.  I bought a giant bag of miniature Tootsie Pops to give to my husband to celebrate.

I walked past aisles of baby items, mentally making notes of what I would put on our registry.  I looked lovingly at the "Baby's First" items wondering which "Baby's First" would happen - well, first.  Would it be Easter?  Halloween?  Christmas?  I thought about buying maternity clothes.  I pictured the happy looks and tears and hugs that would happen when we announced to our families that we were having a baby.  Honestly?  I think this can be said for anyone who is longing for a pregnancy - whether reproductive therapy is needed or not.

It has been almost two years since our first failed IVF cycle.  And I'm still struggling with how to grieve that loss.  In a way, I'm getting there, chipping away little by little.  But there's still a part of my brain that hasn't quite caught up to my heart - or vice versa. 

Abstract loss doesn't have to be this extreme.  I bet at some point or another you have gone through an abstract loss.

- Not getting the job you had hoped.

- Not getting the role you auditioned for.

- Not getting the wedding proposal you were hoping for this year.

- Not winning the championship with your sports team.

- Not winning the pageant.

All of these things were events that in your mind - at some point - you envisioned as a full-fledged reality.

And when that reality didn't pan out?  It hurt.  It hurt like hell.

So what advice do I have for those experience an abstract loss?

It's pretty hard to give solid advice while I'm still mucking through it, but I do have a few things that come to mind - some told to me by others that took several months for me to fully believe.

1.  You have a right to grieve.  Just because you can't see or feel your loss right in front of you does not mean you aren't allowed to hurt.  Just because you can't put words to it, you still lost something.  And when we lose something, we feel broken.

2.  What you have lost is your dream.  Your plans.  Your hopes.  Just because it wasn't an item or something you had in your possession doesn't mean what you experience isn't a loss.  It is.

3.  Give yourself time.  Not only does your heart need healing, but your brain's ability to process your loss is hindered by your brain already being busy trying to figure out WHAT you lost.  Be patient with yourself.  Understand that the waves you feel are normal, and that it's normal to take steps backward and even get sucked right back into the whirlwind of confusion.

4.  You may never quite understand your loss and therefore never quite recover completely.  And that's ok.  It is extremely difficult to completely heal from an abstract loss when a piece of your heart is just stuck in utter confusion.

I hope what I wrote makes sense.  Part of the struggle to get this far without completely erasing what I wrote was that I'm still going through this myself - grieving the abstract, the unseen.  So I didn't really feel equip to offer much to you.

This video clip is courtesy of my friends at The Lavin Production Company (check them on out Facebook here).  They shot and edited a very candid interview with us.  This clip is brief, but is my reaction to our first failed IVF Cycle.

Please, as always, feel free to reach out to us if you need prayers or just need to talk.  Don't forget we are on Facebook.  As always, you are welcome to share our story.  Sometimes, just reading the stories of others going through the same thing has been the biggest inspiration for me.  I just hope I can provide that for others.

Love,

Kristy

Surviving The Holidays - Again

Introduction:

Welcome to the full-on upcoming holiday hubub.  Stores have Thanksgiving and holiday decorations on display.  People are planning their menus.  Amazon and other online shopping sites are likely becoming inundated with parents and relatives searching for things on holiday wish-lists.  Pretty soon merry carols will be heard playing in just about every department store.  It's a whirlwind of planning, errands, frenzy, and excitement.  And it SHOULD be.  Trust me when I say this is NOT meant to be a super-bummer post designed to deflate your holiday spirit.  

Holidays are wonderful. Whether it's Thanksgiving, Christmas, a birthday, Easter, Halloween... it's a time we set aside to gather with family and friends and celebrate.  For a brief moment in between the hustle and bustle of preparation and then the clean up detail, we're able to sit back and enjoy each other's company, catch up on life, and let out a sigh of relief.

But that doesn't mean that these occasions are without hardship for many... and I'm NOT just talking about those who are going through infertility.  I'm talking about anyone suffering loss - recent or in years past.

There are MANY articles online about this topic... probably written by those with a professional background in coping with grief.  But I have found that like most things in life, nothing is one size fits all.

SO, there's my preface to this little post.  Please know that I'm writing this from the perspective of someone going through infertility, but I think it could be applicable to others dealing with loss.

A Personal Look:

Let me back up a little bit.  Our retrieval was in October.  We had a date set for transfer - and that date was Monday, December 12th.  Are you ready for some acronym knowledge?  Here you go - although Christmas falls DURING the TWW (two week wait - the horrendous time between transfer or timed intercourse during which you either become pregnant or don't), it was pretty darn close to being at the tail end of the TWW.  

I was SO. STINKING. EXCITED.  To think... FINALLY, a Christmas after 3 years of heartache, this 4th year I wouldn't have to feel the same!  I would be able to proudly present a positive pregnancy test to my husband.  I'd be able to share with my family that IT WORKED!  WE ARE PREGNANT!

Oy... How very quickly that dream came crashing down around us.  No embryos to transfer means the transfer is cancelled.

If you're ready to head somewhere a bit scary (just kidding), let me take you into my head during the holidays.

"OOOOOO!!!  This is so cute!  I have to get this for the little (more acronym knowledge - The little is my nickname for my SD = Stepdaughter)"

"I need to text my sisters / sister-in-laws to find out what to get my nephews for Christmas"

"...I may never know what it's like to shop for a child of my own."

"Yay!  Letters to Santa, cookie making and crafts!!!  I love this time with the little!"

"...I may never get to experience these things with a child of my own..."

"Oh rats... there's dog hair/me hair on the tape!  Oh well... they'll be so busy unwrapping they won't care."

"Oh man... an invitation to a holiday party... I want to see people... BUUUUUT... I'm in pain and I'm in such a sad mood I won't be good company.  Pass."

"Yes!  So prepared for the holiday.  Gifts are wrapped and organized.  I am the queen of being on top of things!"

"AWESOME!  Holiday Cards to send to family!  Must get these mailed out."

"Ooops... didn't get those holiday cards mailed out... maybe next year..."

"Yay!  Santa is going to be at (enter location here)!  Can't wait to take the little!"

"The little is so excited to see Santa.  I love seeing her so happy and excited."

"What if I never get to experience this with a child of my own?"
"NO!  Focus on the little.  Don't let her know you're upset."

"(Goes to see Santa)... Oh my goodness she is so precious.  *heart melts* Don't let her grow up too fast!!!"

"Look at all these kids with their families... oh look, they look like their parents. What if I never get to bring a child of my own to see Santa?  To see a little piece of me up there, eyes filled with wonder?"

"(Holds back tears)"

"I wonder if I can sit on Santa's lap and ask him for a baby.  No wait... that can be taken totally wrong.  Nope."

***Actual holiday approaches***

"I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO excited for the kids to open their gifts!"

"Oh man... I just want to lay in bed.  Yeah, just going to lay here."

"Crap... I'm crying.  Can this bed just swallow me up whole?  I don't want to move.  Where's the dog."

"You.  Must.  Get.  Out.  Of.  Bed."

"Hey!  Don't be a spoil sport.  Don't ruin the holidays for people. This is a happy time.  Get out of bed and PRETEND EVERYTHING IS OK!"

"Ok, I'm out of bed... time to face the world.  I'm ready."

"Nope.  Not ready.  Can I go back to bed?"

"NO!  Come one, Kristy... get it together.  Don't let anyone down."

"Ok.  I'm here.  Try not to cry, ok?  You don't want to be asked questions and you don't want to ruin the mood."

"Crap... I'm crying.  I can't help it.  QUICK!  Hide!"

"Ok... meltdown over.  Thank goodness I wear good makeup... no one will know."

"Awww... look how excited they are to open presents!  They're all so happy.  *heart smiles*"

"*Heart shatters*"

"I may never get to experience the joy of watching a child of my own opening presents on days like today."

"STOP thinking that... it's going to make you cry.  FOCUS.  HAPPY."

"Just plaster a smile on.  You can do it.  (counts down hours until it's time to go home)"

"It was supposed to be different this year..."

"Next year it will be different..."

These are ALL thoughts (well, not ALL of them, but many) that pass through my head every holiday.  As you can see, there is SO MUCH back and forth.  Struggling between trying to keep up the excitement for the sake of the little and trying to take care of myself and my feelings.

It is EXHAUSTING.

But you know what?  I survived.  And I'll survive another.  Not saying it's going to be easy, but I will.  I've proven that I can.  And if you're reading this, you've proven that you can, too.  So major kudos to you, sweet fellow survivors. 


Tips for those grieving: 

So... what are my top tips for surviving the holidays based on these past years?  

1.  Recognize your feelings are VALID.  Do NOT try to downplay how you feel.  YES, someone else is probably having a harder time than you.  But feelings and grief aren't a game of one-upping each other (or rather in your mind, thinking of someone else one-upping you).  You have every right to be sad, to grieve, to cry, to hide, to yell in private.  Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

2.  After you've recognized your feelings, figure out YOUR best coping mechanism.  Meditation?  Hiding in a dark room for 5 minutes?  Talking to a friend?  KNOW your coping mechanism (please make sure it's a healthy coping mechanism) before getting into the holiday.

3.  Know your triggers.  What sets you off???  Can it be avoided?  If it can, AVOID IT.  If it can't, figure out how you will respond.  You don't have to be at every holiday party.  Politely decline.  Or, you don't have to stay for the whole time... make an appearance, then go home and put on comfy clothes and do you.  

4.  Obviously all functions can't be (and shouldn't be) skipped.  Have a "safe person".  Someone who you trust and who knows what's going on.  Let them know you're having a hard time and your plan for dealing with the hard time.  For example, if your way of resetting is to take some time to hide and cry, make sure they know so they can cover for you.  I have to go to the bathroom A LOT during the holidays.  Maybe you can offer to run an errand.  Or maybe you need that person to just come with you to an empty room and give you a hug and a tissue.

5.  Set limits.  Give yourself time to grieve... but don't let it consume your entire holiday.  Decide you're going to set aside "X" amount of time to grieve, then go out and spend time with your loved ones.  You never know if it's the last time you'll be spending that holiday with them.  Don't let your grief and letting your grief take over lead to future regrets.  Set aside the grief in a little box in your mind and come back to it later.

6.  Know that people will inadvertently say stupid things to you without realizing what you're going through... and have a plan on how to respond.  I kid you not, two years ago at a family Christmas gathering I was asked if I was pregnant.  First of all, I didn't look ANYWHERE near pregnant.  And... of course, I WISHED I were.  I was honestly just stunned... I said no, I wasn't... then quickly found my husband and asked HIM if I looked pregnant.  You may be asked when you're planning on having kids, more kids, etc.  Just have some sort of canned response ready for these times, or maybe just hand them a cookie and walk away.  Whatever works for you.

7.  Take some FUN time for YOU.  Go get a massage.  Set a budget for yourself and go buy something.  Go sledding.  If you can afford it, take a tropical vacation.  It can be as simple and cheap as taking a bubble bath and listening to your favorite music.  Just do something for YOU.

8. Go easy on yourself.  Don't beat yourself up.  It's only going to make things worse. Know that if grieving during the holidays is going to look different from year to year.  Adapt.  Adjust.  Learn what works for you.

Tips for Family:

Now for some more unsolicited advice, this time for family members.

1.  Do not ask if someone is pregnant, is planning on becoming pregnant, or anything along those lines.  REALLY, this isn't a great question to ask.  It's really not polite.  First of all, if they ARE pregnant, they will either (1) ANNOUNCE IT to you or (2) You'll find out when the baby is born.  And about the whole planning to become pregnant?  Do you REALLY want to know?  Do you really NEED to know?  Ask yourself this... is it something that will directly impact your life in such a way that you would mean intense involvement on your end?  If the answer is NO, then don't ask.  And if I'm telling you to not ask a FAMILY member, it goes double for asking someone you just meet, a stranger, or a friend.  (This applies to asking if/when someone is planning on getting married.  Just... don't.  These questions can dredge up some real heartache.)

2.  If you do know what's going on, DON'T bring it up.  Let them bring it up if/when they're ready or if they want to talk about it.  Hugs and saying you're thinking about the person is plenty.  If we need more, we'll ask.

3.  ENJOY the holiday!!!  We do NOT want to bring everyone down!  Celebrate, eat, drink, be merry!!!  We will join you as we can, because we want to eat, drink and be merry, too!  It just doesn't come so easy.  

To Wrap Up...

What are some of your tips?  Feel free to share them below. 

In the meantime, HAPPY HOLIDAYS as they approach to you and yours.  Please feel free to reach out to me if you're needing some support.

Matthew 5:4
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Love,

Kristy