Archive for the ‘Cancer’ Category


May 11, 2009

my heart has been so heavy. heavy for my dear internet friend kate. something she wrote in her most recent post has been winding through my head all weekend. “With loss sometimes comes the chance at a new beginning, a different beginning, a different and perhaps even better outcome.”

sometimes it is the hardest of times that give us the most reward. these rewards take a while to come. they are hard won and sometimes don’t feel like the true gift they are until so far down the road it’s hard to imagine the pain and difficulty that catapulted the path the brought us to them.

i’ve been thinking so much about these little people growing inside me. about how amazed i am that they have stuck with me for so long. so far so good. each time i feel them shift or kick i let myself believe this is all happening. and i remember that without the struggle and devastation of my past they wouldn’t be here at all.

perhaps without the past i would have experienced this with some other little person, but that’s not the point. the point is that without cancer, without the loss of my fertililty, without the encouraging words of a friend or the strength of DH, i would never be where i am today.

these little people, even without my DNA, are a part of me because of these journeys. because of the past. because of my body’s ability to keep me strong enough to survive through all the challenges of my history. and for that i am so grateful.

i’ve said before that in many ways cancer has been the best thing that ever happened to me. and now there is one more example of why i hold that true. actually make that two reasons. i really hope one day i’ll have the honor of meeting them face to face to thank them for making me see what can be born from all that pain.

and i truly hope all of us reach that pinnacle one day. in whatever way we accept to find it.


rose colored glasses of my very own

April 11, 2008

so the deadline for our MIA donor has passed and so… It’s time to celebrate! Ok, maybe not but what the hell. Last night after an extra long day at work j suggested we meet for some dinner and drinks and then… (And this is why I love this man) donn some 3-d glasses for Hitchcock’s Dial M for Murder. Yes!

The way I see it, nothing warms the heart quite like a theatre packed with white-paper-glasses clad crazies laughing and cheering (and jeering) at all the twists and turns of this classic film. And a glass of really nice wine and delicious food don’t hurt either.

So now I’m back on the train, that’s literally and figuratively folks, and I’m feeling really good about logging back into the donor listings. I figure the road ahead is sure to have
more turns I don’t anticipate so I might as well just let it ride. It may not all be “for a reason” but it is the way it is. And if I at last get to rock my 3-d glasses once in a while i think I’ll make it through… Well at least I’ll look good. Right. Right! Eh-hem. I thought so.

on beginning to begin

April 9, 2008

i’ve tossed around the idea of starting a blog to document this strange journey we find ourselves on for quite some time, so many pros and cons i guess, but today after some disheartening news i think i just need a little camaraderie from other girls-in-the-know.

so first some history, i was diagnosed in 2003 with Acute Myelogenous Leukemia and had many rounds of chemo and an autogolous bone marrow transplant (meaning i actually transplanted myself due to the wonders of technology) and now close to five years later we’re trying to make a baby with the help of some dear stranger and her magic eggs.

honestly when i was diagnosed with cancer i was more upset about finding out i’d most likely be infertile than i was about being sick. it’s just easier to understand the magnitude of infertility than it is to imagine what cancer will feel like. sure i was scared and worried and ok, seriously flipping out that i had leukemia, but i just couldn’t get past the fertility thing. because my cancer was of the abtly named “acute” variety i had to start chemo just 12 hours after my diagnosis, this obviously left no time for noodling about storing eggs and ovarian tissue, etc. so after my first round of chemo and having two weeks off from treatment we went to a fertility specialist to see what we could do. the answer… sadly, was not much. because of my weakened immune system and my upcoming secondary round of chemo and looming bone-marrow tranplant, the doc said it was simply too dangerous to do anything. i was crushed. i just fell apart. and so i tried my best to push it out of my head. i had to get through all the treatment after all, i had to survive this disease which took the lives of all except a lucky 19% of those in affected. so i moved forward.

and survive i did. and five years later we’ve opened back up this still raw topic. i’m not sure it ever goes away, the pain of loss that comes from infertility, no matter how or why it happens to you. and as we move closer to DE IVF that loss lessens in some ways and grows in others. the reality of having a baby of our own that i am able to carry and birth and nurse warms my heart, i never thought that would be possible, but accepting that there really is no possibility that by some act of random magic that my ovaries will one day kick back into gear and we can get pregnant all by ourselves, well, that’s a harder thing to let go of.

so today, after weeks of wading through pre-screening at our clinic and searching through their donor lists and finding a match who felt so right and good, we found out today that the clinic can’t seem to reach her. she’s gone essentially AWOL. and now, we might have to start all over again.

my friends, who are dear and loving and just not having any idea what this all feels like, say, “well, maybe it’s for the best”, “there’s always a reason when things like this happen”, “if this is how she is you don’t want her eggs anyhow” and though i know they’re just trying to make me feel better, it just makes it all feel worse.

infertility is just so damn lonely.