The long one about failure.

Throughout this whole process, I have never lost sight or feeling for the immense love that I share with Aaron. I'm one fortunate soul. While I wouldn't wish this path on anyone, I know how lucky I am to walk it. We've been doing it for 20 months. I'm just gonna tell an ugly truth here; not for attention or help. But being honest about this whole journey is what I do, and writing helps me cope a little. So there's that. Think what you may.

We've taken some hits lately, and it seems that I'm the only one who has had enough. I finally got a referral to see Reproductive Health, but can't get in until July. A month and a half of our precious time left will be utterly wasted. I'm having feelings of intense anxiety over how much reproductive and IVF work should be done before November. I have explained our time constraints, yet nothing can be done. We will just have to hope that scheduling issues don't cost us the ability to freeze any embryos. The best case scenerio is Aaron's sperm being good enough to freeze when they test in June. Then we wouldn't need to do an egg extraction. That would be amazing.

We also had a little bit of a bad time getting the new truck adapted. The guy who does the paperwork basically told us he didn't think anything could be done because I'm so short. Right off the bat, as soon as the door opened. I wanted to scream at him and run away, or ask him if Aaron should divorce his short wife and get another one just so he can have a vehicle adapted for him and his spouse. The mechanic guy fixed that for us, so hopefully it goes okay. I mean, it wasn't as hopeless as paperwork dude made it out to be. When we dropped it off yesterday we learned that Aaron can't have additional functions on his hand controls- no blinkers, lights, or horns. If he wants it, the truck is out of commission for 16-18 weeks. I mean, what the hell. Apparently the guy who could get it done in a month left and now the place is left with this kind of insane wait time. Now Aaron has to take his only steering hand off the wheel to use his turn signal or brights. I know this is very small, but it's also just another annoying thing in a sea of annoying and frustrating things. More crap because of the injuries.

Our future plans also have yet to materialize into well, anything. DC and the surrounding areas are really expensive for living. In fact, the "free" home programs can't get anyone closer than 30-40 miles out. That's a 1.5 hour commute- each way. We don't feel entitled to a free home just because of Aaron's status, but it really sucks that his plan to continue his career here eliminates us from it. It's not 100% impossible but it's close. Just another thing that seems to make this harder than it already is. Just another not-choice we have to make. And yeah- there are a lot of choices that aren't really. I'm pretty familiar at this point.

Aaron doesn't have a clue as to what he wants to do after retirement in 6 months and frankly, it is eating me alive. I'm waiting on him. I can't make any moves of my own; not that I have any to make, really. I just want to know what the hell we're going to be doing, ever. I've offered up suggestions but it'll be yet another few months before an iota if an idea could be had. It's easy to tell myself to just chill out and be happy, but it's not that easy in application. In fact, there's nothing really easy-going about not having a clue about our future. Try it and tell me how fun it is for you.

Everything is always "another few months" away. This has taken so, so much more time than we ever imagined it could. I am empty inside in terms of looking ahead. I just can't see it. All I can feel is this years-long recovery process, staying in a temporary place a permanent amount of time with absolutely no idea of what happens next. It's a lot of anxiety. It isn't getting better.

It might be different if we were even 5 years younger. As it is, he's 34 and I'm turning 31 soon. I think we're a little old not to have a future planned, even just a little bit. It might be easier if we were going back to our hometowns, like so many seemed to do. But we want a home wherever we decide to make it; we just want to make some choices. But by not going home or having a clear plan, this again becomes harder than it should be. I suppose it's easy to see that a lot of our additional hardships are things we are doing to ourselves. It'd be simple to just go home or go to school or pick a place and decide that whatever jobs that place offers will be the perimeters we set for ourselves. I think it'd be kinda nice, actually.

We've seen so many come and go here. They arrive, some much worse off than Aaron ever was, but then they fly right past us. I commented to Aaron how relieved I felt that he was finally far enough along for that to not happen anymore. I'm not comparing us to anyone, but it's a fact of our time here. It does sting a little. It stings when we know couples with very similar injuries to Aaron's move right along, some even conceiving children while here. I'm happy for anyone who gets out of here, whenever they do it, and with brand-new babies even! All of those are very happy things. I can't lie and say that it doesn't hurt, though. I want it to be our turn.

I am not happy much these days. I don't have a lot of positive things to say, and it just may be that I lost the gusto and grit I've been riding on these past 20 months. There's just nothing left in me, it seems. I don't feel a lot, and when I do it's frustration, immense sadness, or rage. I actually choose the rage because it's easier to process than sadness and hopelessness and I'd rather feel something than nothing at all. But that nothingness is definitely creeping in, a little more as each day goes by and nothing changes. I'm beginning not to care about what happens. I've voiced a few opinions here and there, but I don't think they've been very conducive. I just don't have much to add because everything I want comes out of a desire to get away from whatever is making me feel so empty.

I was trying to stay afloat, and stay busy. I thought that I could focus on me, my education, my hobbies. It all slipped away from me in the past few months as I increasingly began to feel less concern for my own goals. I really screwed up at school, and we'll see if there's any way out (doubtful). I wasted time and money on what? An opportunity to never get my act together? I know that I'm not really okay but mostly I just feel lazy, selfish, and irresponsible. I don't go with Aaron to events anymore because I think I'll stay home and take care of things that haven't been done in a long time. If I manage to get out of bed and start something, I can hardly finish it. I sit on the couch or lay back down and continue to feel nothing, while I command myself to get up and do something. But I just want to get my responsibilities done and then do the things I want to do that could maybe make me happy. I wallow in frustration with myself for being so sad I can't get anything done and simultaneously not caring about it, either. Sometimes I laugh at myself because it is completely ludicrous. I am a pretty spoiled human to allow this to happen to me.

I tried taking my anti-depressant and it just made me feel worse (and actually so groggy I couldn't even drive). I tried taking it at different times and nothing improved, so I stopped. I am not in a place to feel worse for any amount of time. I know that is not usually the brightest thing to do in these situations, but (thankfully?) I'm pretty well versed in this dance of anxiety and depression, so I'll figure it out eventually and get myself out of it. I honestly feel that I am just lazy and need to quit being rotten about this thing called life. That's all this is. Life. No one- no god or person- promised us humans anything in terms of quality. It is solely up to us to enjoy it. And if anyone thinks "If God put you to it, he'll put you through it" is actually helpful, I implore you to... well, not say it. Don't even think it. It isn't the least bit helpful, nor is it true.

What hurts the most is seeing Aaron struggle with watching me go through this. He is such an amazing, positive person and really can't fathom what the hell is going on with me. He is out right now, trying kayak sprinting and where am I? Here. At home. Trying to clean up the mess I've made. I can feel him struggle with what to do and in effect, we are both withdrawing. I didn't go with him today because the thought of being around cheering, loud, happy strangers sounded like total hell. I would just sit there like a lump on a log and barely respond to those around me. I'm pretty happy around Aaron. There are moments, like going to see the new Star Trek. And then there are other moments, where I know he doesn't even want to cuddle me anymore because I am such a black hole. He doesn't know how to help fix it, but he does the little bit he can. I don't expect him to fix anything, actually. He can't. I have to do this alone. I have support but the work is on me. No one can do this for you. But I hate feeling so alone when I have the most loving man in the world beside me. But I'd rather be alone than drag him down with me. That would be the most awful thing I could do.

I just want to be happy with what I have. I don't care to finish a degree or have some career in public speaking anymore. All of that feels pretty unattainable right now. I don't want to be sick of myself. Actually liking myself and how I spend my days would be nice, as opposed to just moping around and feeling despondent all the time. I just want to care again. Even though our life is probably getting better, my brain is responding with, "A day late and a dollar short." This journey has been so long. We have so much more to go, and I just don't know how to care about it anymore. If I had anything left inside of me, I'd pour it out right this second but you can't pour from an empty container. Right now, there is nothing left to give.

I am not this person. I don't know how this happened, and more than anything I want it to change.

Military Spouse Appreciation Day Doesn't Compare To Prince Harry.

I met Prince Harry and nearly completely lost my cool. Nothing else matters today.

A Message From Wounded Warriors To The Boston Marathon Bombing Victims.

These are my friends, and this is our life.

How To Bake A Baby In As Many Steps As Possible.

If there were a hard and long way to do it, I think we've found it. But, there is some hope. Here is our master infertility plan.

1. Sperm analysis, one in June which could be a "yes" or a "maybe" and another one later, six months after beginning Clomid, which could be a "probably not" or "yes." Any further ones usually display the same results as the second analysis, so we will decide then whether or not to emotionally torture ourselves for another three months or call it a day.
1a. If the sperm is stable, it will be frozen. Yay!
1b. If the sperm is not stable, it will hopefully be matched with my eggs and embryos will be frozen. Yay! And where do my eggs come from? Onto the next step...

So, concurrent with steps 1-1b:

1a-1. I will get checked out and make sure my pipes are clear and my oven (uterus) compliant.
1a-2. I will go through hormones and egg extraction, hopefully this summer! The referral to see the specialist was supposed to be put in but of course, it was not because referrals can never be put in correctly the first time. Inconsistency is consistent.
2. Embryos will be made and frozen if good.
3. In a few years, we will attempt to nestle an embryo inside my uterus.
4. 9 months after that, we attempt to begin to raise a baby. Whoo!

Seriously, how many more variables could we rely on to make this work? We hope his sperm is stable enough for freezing. We hope my body responds to the hormones and I eject many healthy eggs. We hope that if his sperm is not stable, embryos will be made and they will be good enough to freeze. And we hope that in two-three years everything still works and a baby will grow inside of me and then wa-la, we will be bio-parents. That is waaaaaaay too much hope for my personal comfortable level, to be honest. Hope kills. Hope doesn't have to deliver- it just has to be a prayer. I am not comfy with that, but that's just me. So, so many things are dependent upon timing and the idea that biologically, everything is working and will continue to work until we don't need it to work anymore (preferably after a baby has been baked and delivered).

And if it doesn't work and the eggs have already been extracted? I'll donate them. Not that anyone would want them, but I'd rather not just have them destroyed. And why are we waiting? Because I think 34 is a wonderful age to bring a baby into this world, especially for us. We both KNOW that having a baby now or soon would be recklessly stupid of us. A few more years of getting our whole lives figured out and we should be good to go. You know, like most people do in their early 20s after college, not early 30s (mid for Aaron now... heehee) after a freaking devastating war injury. Awesome.

And yeah, I get that the hormone shots aren't "that bad" but I am one of those needle-avoiding persons who still cries at ALL shots. I am not excited in any way, shape, or form about this egg extracting process and all the drugs that go with it. I'm already off my very functional birth control pill and not enjoying it. Maybe it's TMI for you guys, but I'm having the revenge period from hell. Anyone who has stopped a pill that was doing a great job knows what I am talking about. My damn uterus is out to kill me. Little does she know that once she does her job or we figure out there will be no baby to bake, she will be put out of service forever. Bwa-haha. I've discussed her inability to function properly before, so I figure you guys get the gist: she has rarely done well without birth control, and even that's been hit and miss. Oh, I got diagnosed with a fibroid at my last "wtf is wrong with me" appointment. So a cyst and a fibroid within the past year. I am pretty sure I've had more cysts but they are cyclical so hard to catch. Whatever. I can't do a damn thing about any of this, apparently. And of course, none of this is a big deal to the doctors and nurses and "these things just sometimes happen." I've had unexplained problems since I was a teen. Why would I think it would get better or be treatable in my 30s? Let's not start trying new things now, right?!

I am sure my sense of humor is sick and offensive, but what the hell do we have left in this process? Cause I've cried it out and Aaron has hashed it out and really, it's either going to work or it's not. We will absolutely, definitely adopt and perhaps we start the whole thing of eggs and sperm, and realize that we don't care to bake a baby at all and everyone goes on their merry way, AND THEN one day we find our kid through adoption. At this point, it's out of our hands. We are about to be doing all we can with this. And I'm okay with that.

One of my best friends got married in Vermont a week or so ago, and it was awesome. I also still need to post about the USO-Metro Awards Gala. I will. I just need to get my shit together this week. Love and hugs, guys. Have good weeks!

Caregiving to the second power.

I have a lot of neat-o and cool things going on, in addition to the fact that I haven't posted about the USO Metro Awards from March, which was as magical a night as my wedding. I also spoke to a panel of medical professionals concerning sexual intimacy issues facing wounded warrior couples (that was a riot). But caregiving is kicking my ass right now, so that's what's on my brain.

There's all the usual stuff which I still struggle to do, to be honest. I've never had anyone take of me as an adult so it's challenging for me to understand needing it done. Yes, even in our situation. It's complex and I'm not proud of the fact that I can't fathom actually physically needing someone to do stuff for me but that's the truth. I imagine people who have children fair better at this because of that. Well, I didn't even have a pet until I got married so I have always been woefully unprepared for this.  I continue to do chores that my husband actually can't, on top of the usual "men forget to do everything in the house and have dust/dirt blindness," so some days suck. Some days I'm not nice about it, some days I cry, but most days I realize I do have to remind Aaron 15 times to do dishes but he will do them. And everyone is fine and happy. We're cutting up, laughing, listening to our vinyl records, and enjoying our time together.

But then he gets sick or hurt and the caregiving duty is doubled. He won't even take his meds or eat if I don't take it to him. He tries, but is sore, in pain, weak, and tired of it. He had a spinal tap performed last Wednesday and hasn't been right since. Two ER trips and laid up all weekend. Laid up today. I don't mind doing these things for him. Not at all. I think we're just tired of being tired and hurt and sick. No one wants this.

There was a Paul Mitchell salon day scheduled for the caregivers today, and usually it wouldn't be an issue for me to attend. But today- sigh. He's still in bed. I am going to drive him in later for appointments to get him checked out, but it was a battle just to have him agree to that. I'm not upset with him for being laid up and in pain and consequently, needier than usual. That's not it at all.

It just sucks. We're all going to get sick and needy from time to time, and if we're lucky we have someone around to tend to us. He does what he can when I'm stuck with back pain for whatever reason. It's okay. But when you throw it on top of a daily life that already includes a certain amount of caregiving, it can feel endless and overwhelming. It's like a black hole of having to get right back up the minute I sit down, checking on my husband to make sure he's comfortable, driving him in because he needs to recline on the ride. I don't mind doing any of this. Duh. All of it, any of it. He'd do the same for me if he could, and when I am sick, he does do what he can.

I won't lie, though. I won't smile and pretend that this is normal and okay and everyone is going to get out of this completely unscathed. Bullshit. This is hard. This hurts. And while I know Aaron and I will be fine and happy and in love, I also know that we are changing and responding/reacting and must be patient with each other. We are growing inside of this, and it is not without growing pains. And I suppose as long as we are still listening to our vinyl records at the end of the day, and cutting up, it'll be okay.

It's just a hard road to travel to get there.