Round 3

"Usually we let you do this for 3 or 4 times before we move on to something different". These words came from the head of the infertility department at Mayo the day we had the second procedure. Moving on to something different for us means upping the meds, but also for us that isn't necessary. It's next on the chart the doctor gave us for our course of treatments. But, my body is responding to the medicine "perfectly" according to the the department chair that day! So, what does that mean? It means it's sort of hard not to blame God. It's like he's the only thing stopping this from happening. And it's so so scary. But like we were reminded the other day, God is bigger than our anger and our blame. And he's still there for us. He never leaves. I'd like to think he is angry with us, not at us, with us, and heartbroken with us. That our tears are his tears. But if he is indeed in it all, why doesn't he just fix this for us? It's frustrating and painful and like I said before, scary. Frightening really. Because maybe he doesn't intend us to be parents. Maybe this whole thing is one giant lesson we're meant to learn from and grieve and move on from. I know, I know, we have to keep the faith and he gives us the desires of our hearts, and we have to trust him. I know, I know. But right now we're simply writing our pain. And our doubt and our fear.
As we move on from failed treatment number 2 and begin to embrace treatment number 3 we will search deep inside ourselves and once again go to Jesus and beg him for the hope we need to sustain us through another treatment.
Bring on the meds and bring on the running...it's going to be 50 outside today! In March! Who knew! We will run!

To the tune of...

A Melody, A Harmony. Joel and I sing and dance...and it often times comes out as a melody and a harmony, even the dancing. Our pain is different, yet our pain is the same. One needs the other to be at it's best. Both have to be shared, at least in our world. He two steps and I four step. He jigs and I jag. But we do it all together. The pieces, the steps, the lyrics, they all jive. One without the other would be lost. One without the other would be in so much more pain. We lay our pain and our burdens at the feet of Jesus and we ask him to join our dance...jiggity jaggity jive. We beg him to turn our painful agonizing yet free style dance steps into the dance of joy we long for.

Dancing, singing, running, walking, listening, talking, blogging. These are all outlets for our pain. Oh yea, and let us not forget prayer, or rather, our crying out to Jesus, our begging, our shaking angry fists, our yelling, our sadness...it's all part of our melody and our harmony.

STAFF ONLY

Mayo on a Sunday is different. The last time we went down for a procedure was February 27...a Sunday. Rather than making our own way to the lab desk we had to meet a lab staff person at the staff entrance outside. He then led us through double doors that said Staff Only, punched in a code for the next set of doors, then led us to the Staff Only elevator...I think a code was needed to get on that also! After going down a couple of hallways we were finally in a place we recognized...and it was strangely empty. Last time we were there it was overflowing with people. It was quiet, the lights were dim. When we were finished with that part of the appointment we had to be led back out through all the staff only entrances. The lab person found out we were from the Twin Cities and he felt really bad we had to be there so early. He told him that it was actually 30 minutes later than last time and for that we were thankful. Then he apologized for everything being closed. We had 2 hours to fill. We walked around outside, we went to Caribou for none other than campfire mocha's, we walked the underground subway tunnels of Mayo and found out nothing down there was open, not even the restaurants. Gift shops, education center, cafeteria...all closed. Including one of the bathrooms! What? They actually lock some of the bathrooms on weekends...yep! We were nervous but calm. After caribou we found our way to the atrium on the lower level of the Charlton building...desk 3A just upstairs. Usually we sit in this atrium but there are other people around. Today we were alone.


Desk 3A this time was even different...I didn't have to be checked in. I just sat in the waiting room with the other people there that day for some sort of treatment and when they were ready they took us back in the order we had arrived. There were only 3 of us, and two husbands. It was a different lady who did the procedure this time and she was wonderful. She was friendly and supportive and showed me pictures of my follicles on a chart and explained everything. Then we talked about coffee...it was hilarious! I told her I was giving it up for this...she said NO WAY! She said I was absolutely not to give up coffee, she thought that sounded terrible! She was funny! She told me to have 2 cups in the morning and a pop in the afternoon! I thought to myself...well, I really don't drink pop, but the coffee is a Saturday morning relaxation tool, a social thing, a simply delicious delicacy! I won't be giving it up, at least for now:)