Here we go again....

I finally got my period on Thursday and Dan and I had previously made the decision that we were going to move forward with infertility treatment this cycle. Today, we had an appointment at our RE's office for my baseline ultrasound. All looked well and we were given the green light to move forward with 150mg of Clomid. I will start this tomorrow and off we go! I am crazy nervous, at the same time excited to be moving forward with out TTC efforts. Only time will tell what this cycle will hold. I fervently hope and pray that it will be the beginning of something amazingly wonderful.

New Tradition - Wednesday Quotes

I want to start another new weekly tradition on Imperfectly Perfect - Wednesday Quotes. I am often inspired, comforted, validated and moved by quotes that I find, know or stumble across. I think this is a great way to share them.

Today's food for thought:

 

 

This Bible verse inspires me often and brings me comfort in my darkest days. It reminds me that even though I often feel like God has it out for me, after all the struggles we have been through this year, He in fact has wonderful and great plans ahead for Dan and I. I have a large framed chalkboard in our office and on it, this verse is currently written. It is a wonderful reminder that God not only has plans for us, but they are good. He is good.

Thankful Thursday - Thanksgiving Style

What a perfect day for another 'thankful Thursday.' Thanksgiving is such an amazing holiday. We go to my parents house for the day, where my mom cooks for almost 30 people. Their house is filled with family, love, warmth, good food and laughter. 

Today, on Thanksgiving, I am thankful for:
1) My large extended family - I often take fore granted something so rare and precious
2) My mom and her cooking skills - my grandma was an amazing cook and my mom has so wonderfully carried on so many of the cooking traditions since my grandma has been gone
3) All my favorite Thanksgiving foods - turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, pie, and wine
4) Traditions - so many of my most favorite holiday memories are surrounded around my family's traditions
5) My immediate family - my mom, dad, brother, his girlfriend, my two sisters and Dan; they are the people who I would want to spend any day with more than anyone else
6) Black Friday - while most people think that it is horrible to be out in the lines, battling the crazy shoppers, my immediate family loves the tradition of going out, shopping, people watching and just spending time together
7) The start of the Christmas season - my most favorite time of the year
8) Memories - every holiday I look back on holidays past and remember all of the wonderful and not-so-wonderful memories; without these I would not be who I am today
9) The country we live in - today is the day that we remember our ancestors who founded this country hundreds of years ago and were the forefathers of this great country we call home
10) My little family - Dan, myself and our two dogs; we may not have our babies here on earth with us, and no promise of a baby in the future, but I could feel more blessed with our imperfectly perfect little family

Today, on Thanksgiving, I thank God for everything he has blessed me with. It has been one rough and long year, but nonetheless, we are so very blessed.

Good News!

I got the call today from Dr. M's office that my biopsy results were in. Cue: my heart stopping momentarily. The nurse simply told me that the results indicated that my infection was gone. GONE!! I thanked her very much, hung up the phone, and literally threw my arms into the air and cried, "Yes, thank you, thank you."

I needed this news today. I have been home sick all week with the flu and a sinus infection and was starting to convince myself that my body was officially turning against me.

It is the little things sometimes that can bring us the biggest delights. We now have the possibility of moving forward with our TTC efforts when we are ready. Thank you God, for possibility.

Thankful Thursday

As I sit at home sick from work (yet again) feeling sorry for myself, I began thinking of all the things I was thankful for. This got me thinking that I was going to start a new tradition on Thursdays on Imperfectly Perfect. Thankful Thursdays.

Today I am thankful for:
1) A God who allows me to be imperfecly perfect by His Grace alone
2) My husband - his humor, his child-like innocence, his ability to love with his whole heart
3) My "boys" - the love of animals is unparallel to the love of a human - it comes with no strings attached
4) Stillness - those moments where everything is so still you could swear time stops momentarily
5) Good friends - I have a "sisterfriend" who is the dearest and truest friend I have ever known
6) Our home - this house is not just a house, we have made it into a home, one that welcomes friends, family and strangers
7) Books - I have a terrible habit of buying more books that I can read (I think I have a stack of at least 20 books next to my bed yet to be read)
8) My babies - I miss them every day, but they are still so much a part of me and a blessing to Dan and I
9) Possibility - I have been thinking about this a lot lately - we know no bounds and the possiblity of anything is so liberating
10) Wine. Need I say more?

What are you thankful for?

A Stone Free Future

Dan and I had an appointment with a new nephrologist today. The purpose of the appointment was to get a second opinion on the prevention plan for the kidney stones. Dr. S was amazing. He listened to our concerns, answered our questions and then after much explanation delivered his concluding thoughts. They were as I had expected and at the same time dreaded.

He indicated that the only way to prevent the stones from recurring was to place me on a blood-pressure/water pill (hydrochlorothiazide) for the remainder of my life. The medication has few side-effects and he reported that most people tolerate it well. Without the medication, he told us that stones recurring would be inevitable, and they in turn would continue to damage my kidneys. The choice seemed simple. He agreed to call my OBGYN to verify that she was on board with my new medication during our TTC efforts and any future pregnancies (we later heard back from him that Dr. D was perfectly fine with this) and once she okayed this, he would call the prescription in for me.

Dan and I drove home from the appointment and discussed our thoughts. We both reflected on the unfairness of having to resort to a lifelong medication. Who at my age wants to accept that your body has failed at one of its functions, and you in turn must rely on a medication until your dying days. It will be an adjustment, physically and emotionally, but the simple fact remains. Kidney stones are nothing to mess around with. I have a few friends who have had stones and children, and will say that they would take labor over stones any day of the week. I cannot keep enduring the pain of passing stones and the possibility of future surgeries. I need to start looking to the future and continue making choices that will lead me down the path of optimal health.

As much as it stinks, at least we have an answer and an option. For that, I am thankful.

Halloween Frights!

Because of Hurricane Sandy making her way into Cleveland, trick-or-treating was postponed until tonight. Trick-or-treating in our neighborhood is a big deal. We get hundreds of kiddos, and most neighbors sit out in their driveways and make a night of it. Dan and I brought out chairs to the driveway and made a fire in the fire pit. Before though, I dressed my "babies" up in their costumes for pictures. 

Aren't they stinking adorable? They get too excited for trick-or-treaters and have to stay inside for the festivities, but it isn't a Halloween until they are dressed up in their costumes and photo ops are taken advantage of! They are my loves, and they make me smile every day. I just had to share. 

A Ray of Sunlight

I did not like my old OBGYN. When we went in for our first ultrasound with my first baby, she was so harsh, so blunt when she told me that we had miscarried. She never said she was sorry, never extended her feelings of empathy, and made me so incredibly uncomfortable  She was new to her practice and for someone with as complicated as a medical history as I have, I knew I would eventually need someone with more experience than Dr. J. However, since I found Dr. M as my RE, I have not felt a rush to find a new OBGYN. I think part of me was just lazy, not wanting to get around to finding someone new, the other part of me just didn't want to have to rehash my whole story over with another doctor.

Regardless, I asked around, did some research, and stumbled upon Dr. D. She practices with University Hospitals in Cleveland, and is also a Maternal Fetal Medicine doctor. This means she specializes in high-risk moms. I would most likely fall into this category once I became pregnant some day, and after some good referrals from a co-worker and lots of good info on the old world-wide web, I made an appointment.

Dr. D impressed me beyond belief. She sat with me in her office filled with family photos, books piled high and big comfy chairs, for 45 minutes and listened, truly listened to my story. She asked appropriate questions when needed and it really shone through that she knew her stuff.

Needless to say, she gave me some great advice, but more importantly gave me hope. She was able to give me something that I had lost along the way in the past nine months. She gave me hope that one day I would be a mommy to my own biological child. She told me that Dan and I are not infertile, in the sense that we can obviously get pregnant with a bit of assistance, but what we needed to focus on was optimizing the environment to bring a baby into my body. We talked about my recent diagnoses, the prospect of heparin shots, and my most recent diagnosis of an endometrial infection. She felt strongly for many reasons that I did not need a D&C and that it actually put me at risk for various things. She encouraged me to go back to Dr. M and at the minimum, cancel my surgery and simply have the slightly painful, but quick endometrial biopsy that he also offered as an option. She hugged me as I left and again reiterated that she would be seeing me soon, with a baby in my belly. I cannot wait until I get to work with Dr. D in the future.

I then made the call to Dr. M's office and simply cancelled my D&C and set up my endometrial biopsy. I actually had this done today, and while it was incredibly painful for about a minute and a half, it was well worth it for me to be able to walk out of his office, barely phased by the whole thing. If I would have had the D&C it would have been my fifth time under anesthesia in eight months. I am glad I made this choice and had Dr. D to help guide me in making it. We should get the results from the biopsy in two weeks and will know if this infection is gone or not. I pray that it is. I just want to move forward. I just want a chance to get back into the game of trying to make another baby. Until then, I will hold tight to the ray of hope that Dr. D gave to me. Hope that our dreams are within our reach, if we only have just a bit of patience.

Two Years of Wedded Bliss

Dan and I got back from a long weekend from Nashville this weekend. After losing our second sweet baby, we decided almost immediately that we needed a break from the real world. We knew our anniversary was coming up, and it was a perfect excuse to run away for a long weekend. We decided on Nashville quite easily. We have always loved country music (it is the music of choice in our house) and neither of us had ever been. We splurged and decided to stay at Gaylord's Opryland Resort and had a fantastic weekend. We spent a lot of good quality time together  relaxed, shopped a little too much (I got my first pair of real cowgirl boots!!), ate a lot of biscuits and fried chicken, drank lots of beer and whiskey and listened to a great deal of live country music.

Dan and I at the Grand Old Opry (notice we are the youngest people there by at least 40 years! The whole city wasn't like this, trust me.)

If you have never been to Nashville, it truly is an upbeat, yet romantic city. There is a youthfulness about the city  a feeling that those who live there, love life, love their country, and love country music. Dan and I fit right in. I left already looking forward to going back. We really want to go back next year, God willing.

Some days I wonder how I would make it through this crazy life without my husband. He truly is my rock. Lots of women say that, but for me, it is my truth. I have never known such an honest, genuine, caring, selfless man (well, besides my dad - truly). But Dan has this life, this innocence to him that is contagious, I know, without a shadow of a doubt that he was made for me. He was made to be my partner, and I, his.

Our wedding day feels like so long ago in so many ways. We have been through so much in the past two years, and have grown as a couple in ways that many couples never do. For this, I feel blessed. In other ways, that amazing and joyous day, feels like yesterday. I still get a smile on my face and butterflies in my tummy thinking about how perfect it all was.

Right after our ceremony, right before our amazing reception!

While I would never wish to go through the many hurdles that Dan and I have gone though together as a couple, I feel so incredibly blessed to be going through them with him by my side. I tell him this almost daily, but I do not know if he fully understands how much love and respect I have for him. He is my everything, and my greatest estate in life. The refrain from our wedding song, "You Make it Look so Easy" by Eric Church, says, "when it comes to loving me, baby you make it look so easy." And he does. We have had our rough days, rough weeks and well, a rough year. But without my husband, I would be no where. He does for me something that no one else could. And I feel like a darn lucky lady.

A Day to Remember, A Day to Celebrate

October 15th marks Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day in the US, Canada and some parts of the UK. This is a legislatively recognized day for those of us who have suffered the loss of a child to ectopic pregnancy, miscarriage, stillbirth or neonatal death, to come together to raise awareness and honor those children no longer here with us. A day we wish didn't need to be recognized but are thankful that it exists. On this day at 7pm, across the world, participants light a candle for at least one hour in memory of their lost children and in support for others who have experienced a loss. The result is a continuous wave of light for a 24 hour period honoring our children’s memory.

This is a day that is widely recognized within the loss community. However, it is a day that I never knew about until I had to. I have to believe that it is a day that many people who have never walked in these shoes also do not know about. But for my fellow loss mothers and fathers, it is a day when we are able to and encouraged to remember and celebrate our babies that were taken from us much too soon. As I took a mid-afternoon break from work today, and perused my Facebook newsfeed, I literally got goosebumps seeing the amount of 'status updates' about the meaning of today. Women coming out of the shadows revealing to the world the depths of sadness that they have lived in for so long. Women supporting other women. Men supporting women. People simply recognizing that babies have died.

It seems so simple. Recognizing. Acknowledging. Saying, "I'm so sorry you've been through this." But in the loss world, the world of pregnancy and infant loss, it isn't all that simple. Any women or man who has experienced the loss of their baby, either unborn or infant, will tell you that people simply do not talk about it. Many even pretend as though it never happened. And pretending something never happened is almost worse than someone saying something hurtful about it. Those babies I lost, the babies that my friends have lost - they were real. They were our children, our hopes, our dreams.

I was blessed enough to have a dear friend of mine, who I met because of our losses, invite me to go with her to a remembrance ceremony and candle lighting. We were led to one another many months ago, during some of the darkest days of our lives. We have shared some of our deepest sorrows and some of our greatest joys. She is a friend who has unconditionally supported me through my ups and downs, and I, her. The ceremony was held at a local town square in a beautiful gazebo that was lined with 60 luminaries, each bearing the name of a baby taken too soon. We were two people of about twelve people who attended. As we all stood together and lit our candles at 7pm, we heard the names of all the babies read aloud. We then heard the stories of the others who were there - the losses that they have all endured, the struggles they have since encountered. It was so touching. It was an experience that I will forever hold in my heart.

My dear friend, Amanda and I.

The lit luminaries adorned with the names of 60 babies.

What saddened me the most was the resounding theme of everyon's story. Loneliness. Lack of resources. Having no one to relate to what they were going through. Everyone who spoke said the same thing - different words, but same message. We all thanked each other for coming out. Many of the people there said it was so great being able to talk to others who have been through the same thing and knowing that they aren't alone. One of the men who spoke said something that touched me. He said, that when someones 60 year old husband dies, people are there to support them. People attend a funeral. Offer all sorts of support. However, when your baby dies, people act as if it is not 'as sad.' They expect you to 'get over it.' He said, "When my daughter died, it wasn't just her that died. It was the dream of everything she could have been. The dream of what her life would have looked like." So yes, while the death of my 69 year old grandmother was very different than the death of this man's stillborn daughter, they are both still deaths. They are losses. Those who loved my grandmother grieved. Those who loved their daughter, Violet, grieved as well.

My story, however, is somewhat different. The greatest gift my two babies have ever given me was the group of women who have come into my life because of our common experiences. These are women who I met through an online message board. Yes, it may sound creepy. Trust me though, it is not. I have been blessed to meet some of these fine women in real life, and can tell you that they are not fifty year old creepy men, behind a computer screen. They are women, just like me, who have been through what I have been through. Our stories are all different. Our losses are all different. But our desire is all the same. We all hope and pray for our rainbow baby. These women have supported me in my darkest moments. They have been the ones to help pick me up off the floor of my grief and take another step. They have been the sounding board for my crazy ideas, fears, questions and hypotheses. They know things about me more intimate than most of my best friends and we have shared secrets that will forever stay within the confines of our hearts. They are the truest of friends. They represent the deepest meaning of the word sisterhood. Without these women, I would be lost. These women have given me hope. And because of this blessing that has been bestowed to me, I pray for this blessing for any women walking in these shoes. I pray for them to have another hand to hold, a tear in someone else's eye, a solidarity that only common experience can bring.

As I left the ceremony tonight, with my friend by my side, I thanked God for what I do have. A community of people to support me. A community of women who have been through what I have been through. A community of women who will cry with me in my darkest moments, and rejoice with me in my most joyful ones. Because isn't that all we want in the end? Someone who understands? Someone who will put their arm around you and say, "everything is going to be okay, because I'm right here with you." So while I was able to remember my sweet angels today, I also sent up a prayer of thanksgiving to them. I thanked them for not only being my sweet babies, but also sending me the mommies of their friends up in heaven.

26.2 Miles and a Weekend Away

We just got back from a trip to Chicago with my entire family to support my dad in running the Chicago Marathon. This was his sixth marathon. Sixth!! He is fifty-three years old and continues to amaze me with his athleticism and drive to accomplish these goals. We had a memorable weekend filled with good food, a beautiful hotel, lots of shopping and crisp fall weather. I simply wanted to share a picture bragging on my dad and his most recent accomplishment.

This is one of my mom, sisters, brother, his girlfriend, Dan and I, getting ready to cheer him on!

This is after the race, (his time was 3:15:30!!!) with my Dad, Dan and I!

Sometimes we all just need a timeout. This is exactly what this weekend was for Dan and I. An escape from reality and some good quality time with people who genuinely, truly love us. I cannot imagine my life without all of them and thank God every day for the blessing of all of them in my life. They are my greatest estates in life.

More Answers, More Waiting, More Hurdles

I got a call from Dr. M's office on Wednesday telling me that the results were in from our D&C. The nurse, however, would not give me the results over the phone. She told me that they had come back "abnormal" and we would need to come into the office for a consult with Dr. M to get answers on what that meant. As a natural worrier, and because this nurse made it sould like I was dying, I asked to get in as soon as possible. We went in today to see him and here is what we found out in a nutshell.

The baby, who Dr. M said was a little boy, had a genetic disorder known as triploidy. Triploidy simply means that the baby had one extra set of chromosomes than what he should have had. This composition is not compatible with life. Dr. M reassured us that we did nothing wrong or caused this, and it was unfortunately a 'fluke' occurrence. He told us that the reoccurrence rate of this for a future pregnancy was 1%.

He then went on to tell us that the results also indicated that my uterine lining was 'severly infected' at the time of the D&C. The results stated that this could have led to the death of our baby as well, but as Dr. M reassurred us, infection or not, the baby was not going to live. However, in speaking of future pregnancies, getting this infection taken care of was of utmost importance. He told us that he did not know where the infection came from or how long it was there. He could not tell us what the infection was, just that it wasn't 'life threatening' or cancer (I asked that very specifically). I would need to be put on a two week regimen of antibiotics and then would need to have another D&C once the antibiotics were complete to verify that the infection was in fact gone. We would need to wait for two weeks following the D&C to get the test results back before we could go back to TTC. My surgery is scheduled for November 1st, which means that at the earliest we would not be back to TTC until November 15th.

As reassured as I was to have an answer as to why my last pregnancy failed, I was just as frustrated to be dealt another hand of shitty cards. Another hurdle, another period of time to wait. With my cynicism starting to get the best of me, I cried in the car ride from the appointment, again questioning, "why me?" I know that it is a blessing to have found the infection, and to have some answers about the last miscarrige. I know all of this. But today, right now, I am sick of waiting and sick of hurdles being thrown my way. I want a break.

More Hurdles to Overcome

A week ago Sunday, I woke from a dead sleep in excruciating pain. I had been having period cramps that day before and thought that AF was on her way. I got out of bed and sat in the bathroom for the next two hours crying in pain, convinced that my uterus was about to fall out of me. After Dan Web MD'ed every symptom I had, he was convinced that I had a ovarian cyst that was rupturing. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that I hadn't felt pain like that in a long time. By 4am, Dan bundled me up, put me in the car and we headed for the ER. After six or seven hours, multiple exams, a CAT scan, two ultrasounds and nine tubes of blood later, we were told that I had a kidney stone stuck in my ureter. This was not a new experience for me, as I had this same thing happen to me in late April, about five weeks from my first miscarriage. And here I was, five weeks out from my most recent miscarriage, going through the same hell. The ER doctor gave me a shot of morphine, a bottle of pain killers and sent me on my way. He told me that I had a 95% chance of passing the stone, but if I did not within a week, I would be in need of emergency surgery. This prospect was not new to me either, seeing as I had to have two emergency surgeries in late April to deal with the stones I more recently had to deal with. I had ended up getting my period that morning in the ER as well, signifying that we could start back with out infertility treatment if we so chose.

Because of the uncertainty of what would be with the kidney stone this time around, and talking to the nurse at Dr. M's office, we decided that we were going to sit this cycle out and not pursue any infertility treatment. This ER escapade was a double edged sword right in my heart. Here I was, in pain, the prospect of another surgery on the horizon (which would have been my fifth surgery in eight months) and the hope of a successful IF cycle down the drain. I was depressed to say the least.

I spent the next week in bed, out of work, on pain killers, trying desperately to pass the stone. By Friday, the pain had subsided, but there was no stone to show that it in fact passed. I went for a kidney ultrasound the next Monday (yesterday), and was told by the ultrasound tech that I had in fact passed the stone. You can imagine the relief that I felt, knowing that I would not have to endure another extremely painful kidney surgery in the week ahead.

I saw my urologist today and he explained to me in better detail than had ever been explained before why I continue to have issues with these stones. He indicated that I have a "leaky filter" in my kidney. This filter does not filter out the calcium as it should, therefore, calcium builds up in my kidney, in turn creating calcifications that eventually turn into stones. He told me that I needed to continue to stick to my strict low-sodium and low-oxalate diet, but would also need to consider the prospect of being on a blood pressure medication for the rest of my life. He told me that without this, I would continue to make stones. He also elaborated to tell me that the reason I have had these two severe kidney stone episodes directly after a pregnancy loss is due to the fact that pregnant women are more suceptible to stones due to the fluctuating hormones and the havoc they wreck on our bodies. He said because of the loss, and in turn the rapid drop of homrones, it thows my bdy into a tailspin, causing the kidney and the leaky filter to act up more than it otherwise would. I asked him point blank today if I would be stupid to try to get pregnant, knowing that it may mean kidney stone issues for me during a pregnancy. He told me absolutely not. He told me that I needed to live my life as I wanted and if that meant being a mother, I needed to do that. He reassured me that this was something that we could handle together, with the help of a nephrologist. He referred me to a nephrologist who I will see on November 14th. I am looking forward to more answers and hopefully a plan on how to move forward.

Even though my urologist reassured me that I should not stop trying to get pregnant, I can't help but wonder sometimes if my body just wasn't cut out to carry a baby. It is a debilitating fear, one that haunts me in my darkest moments. I don't know what the answer is or what my future holds, but I do know that if I never try, I will never know what could have been. Hurdles or not.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Angel

For women who have experienced a miscarriage or pregnancy loss, an EDD, or estimated due date is a milestone that is exceptionally bittersweet. It is a day that represents what could have been, what should have been, but simply what is no longer.

Our first baby, our little sweet pea, had an EDD of today. So today, or some day very close to today, we would have been welcoming our first little one into the world. It is a day that I have both dreaded and anticipated for the past seven months. I dreaded this day incessantly knowing that it would unearth a great deal of sadness, grief, and pain remembering what I no longer had. Realizing what Dan and I were not experiencing. On the other hand, I have been anticipating this day because for the past seven months, I have been silently rehashing what my current state of pregnancy would have been. It has not been a constant thought, or something that haunts me day in and day out, but a fleeting and unexpected series of "what could have been." At various points I would often think about how far along I would be, what Dan and I would be doing to get ready for the baby, how big my belly would be or things like when my shower would have been. A frequent example of this is when Dan and I would be somewhere and spotted a pregnant person who was the size of what I should have been at that time. It always acted as a visible reminder of where I would have been. I would point it out to Dan and say, "that's about how big I would be right now." So in many ways, I have looked forward to this day. I looked forward to it with hope that it would bring me some closure and peace.

Dan and I did not do anything exceptionally symbolic today to memorialize our LO, but it was a constant conversation we had all day long, that made today very special. We talked about it when we woke up, remembering what today was and should have been, during our shopping and errands during the day and we then went to dinner tonight and made a toast to our sweet pea in heaven. At dinner, we both got fortune cookies and opened them. While it is normally the practice for the person whose birthday it is to get a gift, today, our baby gave us one. Here are our fortunes -

While I believe that Chinese fortunes are simply writings on a small piece of paper, tonight, these fortunes were rays of hope, lights of what could be in the future. They were what our little baby sent to us on their birthday to remind Mommy and Daddy that there are better days ahead.

Happy Birthday, my sweet baby. Not a day goes by that we don't miss you and wish you were here in our arms. Your daddy and I love you more than words can say. Hugs and kisses.

Answers and More Waiting

Today Dan and I met with Dr. M to get our test results back from our most recent miscarriage. I was nervous to get the results but anxiously excited as well. I am awful with the 'scientific' or 'medical' jargon and explanation of it all, but the general gist is this. All of our karyotyping and chromosomal testing came back completely normal on Dan and I. This is a great thing. This means, in Dr. M's words, we have the 'stuff' needed to make a perfectly healthy baby. After hearing this, I felt reassured and a small flicker of hope inside of me come alive.

As for the other testing on me, including autoimmune testing and blood clotting tests, everything came back normal except for two things. One of the results is known as MTHFR 677. This basically means in so many words that I was given one 'incorrect' copy of this gene and because of that, my body does not process folic acid as it should. Folic acid is necessary to the health of a growing fetus, and because of this, I will be on a complex prescription of folic acid and a collection of vitamin B during our TTC journey and during a potential pregnancy. Easy fix.

The other result that came back abnormal is called Factor XIII. Dr. M tried to explain this to Dan and I the best he could, but lost me somewhere along the way. He basically told us that he was 'perplexed' by this result because usually this result comes back abnormal along with another result. However, this other result of mine was normal. He said if both had come back abnormal, he would have prescribed to me heparin injections for the first trimester of any future pregnancy. However, because only the one result came back abnormal, he did not feel as though there was overwhelming evidence to suggest that he should or should not prescribe the heparin in the future. We then discussed the potential contraindication of the heparin with my history of ITP (idiopathic thrombocytopenia purpera). Side note: I was diagnosed with ITP (a disorder where your platelets rapidly drop within your body putting you at a severely increased risk of bleeding to death) back in 2009 and eventually underwent a splenectomy where my spleen was surgically removed to treat the ITP. My ITP has been in remission ever since. Dr. M indicated that there was always the chance that the ITP could return with the use of heparin, but he wanted to defer to my hematologist and would go with his decision to either move forward or not move forward with the heparin. We agreed that I would be in contact with my hematologist and make a decision on the heparin based on his analysis of the situation. So, this was not such an easy fix.

Dr. M also told us that the results from our D&C were not yet in, and should be in within a couple of weeks. He cleared us to begin back to TTC as soon as we were ready. We agreed we would move forward with the Clomid for another couple of cycles if need be, and then if we exhausted this option we would move to the use of injectible medications. We are waiting on my body to figure out if I am going to get a period, and if not I will take medicine to induce it, then go from there.

While this appointment was filled with many answers and some very reassuring news, it still left some information to be desired. We are still missing some pieces to the puzzle, one of which being the cause (if there is one) for the miscarriage of my last baby. Without this information I still feel a lack of closure and cannot wait until those results are in. Until then, we wait.

See that is the thing about infertility or even simply TTC. You are always waiting for something. Waiting to get a period, waiting to see a new doctor, waiting for results, waiting to test, waiting for answers, waiting, waiting, waiting. We have been waiting for our take home baby for over a year and a half now, and as patient as I am trying to be, this waiting, is starting to get the best of me.

Fall Is In the Air

Fall is my favorite season ever. Ever, ever, ever. I love pumpkins, apple picking, apple cider, fall smelling candles, Halloween, the falling leaves, boots, sweaters and jeans and the upcoming anticipation of a holiday season. Well, and of course my birthday. The weather has been cooling off here in northeast Ohio steadily for the past week or two. I got three mums for the front porch and decided that I needed to break out some fall decorations for the inside of the house and a wreath for the front porch door. Well, when I went into the basement to find what I had, I realized I had barely any fall decor. So.....I turned to Pinterest and went craft shopping. 

I have been feeling uber crafty lately and have enjoyed the distraction from reality as well. I knew I wanted something for our kitchen island and a wreath for the front door at the minimum. I found two things on Pinterest I wanted to do together for the island and two wreaths that I combined together for my own unique creation. See below for pics and details of how I completed my first fall crafts!

This is the combination of both crafts and the final product for the kitchen island. I love how it turned out!!

So for my three pumpkins I took 'craft' pumpkins that I found at Target in the seasonal section (but I know Michaels, JoAnns, Hobby Lobby, etc. would have the same thing) and brushed Modge Podge adhesive all over the pumpkin. I found it was easier to do the whole pumpkin at once instead of in sections due to the next step. Then once the glue was all over the pumpkin I shook Epsom salts all over the entire pumpkin until it was covered. The salts give them a nice crystalline look without looking cheap. They look like something you would find at Pier One or a similar store. (Tip - makes sure you cover the pumpkin completely with the glue, but do not clump on too heavily. It makes the salt clump as well, which isn't a pretty look. This is also why I found doing the whole pumpkin at once was easier, because the glue kept clumping on the existing salt when I did it in sections)

For my corn vases I took three different sized tall glass vases and dumped corn kernels in and pushed a candle deep into them. So so simple!!! I have yet to light them, but know they will look great lit up.

Isn't this wreath great?!? It is my favorite of all the crafts. I took a grapevine wreath, tightly wrapped burlap ribbon around it and tied the two ends in the back to keep it in place. I then chose my four flowers, cut the stems, applied hot glue and stuck them in! For my 'G' I painted it with a yellow paint. After I finished it was a bit too bright for my taste, so I took some beige paint and sponged it over the original color - it really tamed the original color down. I then took hot glue and applied a great deal of pressure onto it once in place - I didn't want it falling off in the autumn wind! I found that it would not stick to the grapevine, but did stick very well to the burlap ribbon. It worked out well that there were two pieces of ribbon right where they needed to be. If you were to re-create I would encourage you to do the same!

I am so looking forward to more crafts in the coming weeks. I am working on refinishing a dresser and will share once it is complete! I am so excited about how it is going to turn out. Crafting like this makes me remember my grandma. We lost her eight years ago this past March. She loved crafting, sewing, cross-stitching, all of it. Fall makes me think of her too, as her birthday would be coming up in the next month. She would be 78 this year. I like to think that she, my grandpa and my babies are up in heaven watching down on us. It is a thought that brings me much comfort. 

How can you be sure?

Some days, the sadness and hurt I feel in my heart is so deep and raw that it physically hurts. Here is the thing though - I have fought so hard for the past year and a half to control our circumstances. I sought out our RE, I pursued treatment, I feel like I have taken this journey into my hands. Once we found out we were pregnant this last time I was so excited and had so much faith that God would not put us through what we went through last time. I felt like we had gotten what we wanted!! I got pregnant and God was going to be on our side to keep this baby. This was my plan and it was working out all to the tune of my drum. Then we lost the baby. And the first emotion I felt was exhaustion. I was tired. I am tired. I am tired of trying to be in control. And the funny thing is, I was never in control in the first place. (You fool, Meg.) So I have truly given it up to the Lord. I'm done trying to figure it all out. Trying to make it all work. Its taken so much off of me. And some days, I am pissed as hell, and mad and jealous and want to make it happen NOW, today. Then I get clarity as a new day comes or just by praying to God and saying, "give me peace." That is my new prayer to Him. Nothing else, just give me peace.

My aunt introduced me to my now favorite Bible verse, "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:4-7)

It doesn't say, you will get what you want, or God will grant your requests. But what it says is that if you turn your desires, fears, and requests over to God, and are thankful for what you do have, peace will overcome you. I have felt more and more peace in the past weeks because of my new prayer and request to God. He knows what is in our hearts. He knows we desperately want a baby and that nature is not on our side - what I need to do is give it to Him.

My mom also posted something to her Facebook wall a week or so ago and it really spoke to me. It said, "When we are quiet, we can hear God's messages to us. Sometimes, these messages may be in the form of subtle intuition. Sometimes, it may feel like an inner knowing. Sometimes we may hear a 'still, small voice.' If it feels right in your heart, trust that it is God speaking to you."

I have seriously been feeling some inner tugging and pulling since our last loss. I have always been convinced that I had to have my own biological child(ren) in order to feel whole and not have any "regrets" in life. After this last loss, my feeling on this has significantly changed. Do I still desperately hope and pray for a child made from Dan and my genes? Absolutely. But, do I still feel that without this I wouldn't feel whole? Absolutely not.

I don't know when or how I came to this revelation, but I have this inner peace inside of me about the prospect of never having biological children. Would it sadden me if we received news that I could never bear a child of my own? Of course it would. But I now have this peace inside of me that overcomes the feeling of this potential sadness and makes me feel whole again. I feel that I would be exactly who I was destined to be if this was ever to be the case.

Even more foreign to me than that revelation, is this tugging I feel toward choosing to stop our progressive infertility treatment approach. In some ways I worry that I am trying to tweak my reality based on my master plan, instead of truly listening to what God's plan is. I have also been feeling pulled toward the prospect of adoption. I have never been opposed to adoption, per se, but always felt bad for adoptive parents, as if they had to settle for second best. I am ashamed for admitting this, but this had been my perspective in the past. Now? Part of me wants to pursue adoption - and to say that, admit that to myself and Dan, makes me realize that I no longer carry that ignorant assumption that adoption is second best. It is first best for those who are divinely led to that choice.

Dan and I have talked about this in great detail over the past five weeks. I have told him that I don't know why and I can't make sense of it, but I feel like God is telling me that I need to consider this path to parenthood. We have talked about our fears, plans and desires around bringing a child into our family, either through biological conception or adoption. What I struggle with though, is trying to differentiate between grief, hormones, sadness and other crazy emotions tainting my thoughts and "pulling" or whether it really is God. I have been known to make rash and silly decisions in the past and want to be sure that no matter what we choose, it is for the right reason. Because God is calling us to this. No other reason will do.

I do not know what path we will end up deciding on, or how long it will take us to come to that decision. What I do know is that I continue to keep my mind and options open and pray constantly to God to show me His way, not mine. We have an appointment with our RE in two days where we will get all of our genetic testing and karyotyping results back. We will have a chance to talk to Dr. M about moving forward, his thoughts on our odds of carrying to term and then going from there. Dan and I have agreed not to talk too much in depth about any options or paths we may or may not take until then. We both feel that we need a jumping off or starting point from which to make any decisions, now moving forward. I am interested to see where this appointment and the results will lead us, and how all of it will play into our continued journey to be parents.

So how can you be sure that it is God speaking to you and not that your own desires, fears or motives are pushing you in a certain direction? I do not think that you ever know. I believe this is where faith has to come into play. So I pray for faith. I pray for guidance to make a decision to move forward. Until then, I desperately pray that God will continue to reveal His plans to Dan and I and speak to us in a way that stills our hearts.

I Will Be a Wonderful Mother

I Will Be a Wonderful Mother - Author Unknown

There are women who become mothers without effort,
without thought,
without patience or loss,
and though they are good mothers and love their children,
I know that I will be better.

I will be better not because of genetics or money or because I have read more books,
but because I have struggled and toiled for this child.

I have longed and waited.
I have cried and prayed.
I have endured and planned over and over again.

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.

I will notice everything about my child.
I will take time to watch my child sleep,
explore,
and discover.
I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold, and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream.
My dream will be crying for me.

I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child.

Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend, and sister because I have known pain.

I know disillusionment, as I have been betrayed by my own body. I have been tried by fire and hell that many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.

I have prevailed.
I have succeeded.
I have won.

So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.
I listen.
And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely.

I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth when life is beyond hard.

I have learned a compassion that only comes by walking in those shoes. I have learned to appreciate life.

Yes, I will be a wonderful mother.


I share this poem not because I think I will be a better mother than anyone else. I will have my failures, pitfalls, terrible days and moments that I want to scream, just like all mothers do. While I think that there is something to be said about struggle and eventually having a greater appreciation for what you struggled for, this is also not why I share this poem today. The reason I share this poem is for what it says at the end.

So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs. I listen. And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth when life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes by walking in those shoes. I have learned to appreciate life.

These past seven months have also been difficult for me for another reason. I have lost friends. I have seen those who I love, turn their backs on Dan and I in our time of greatest need. I have heard hurtful words and more hurtful than that, felt the silence of words unspoken. Most do not know how to deal with pain, loss and discomfort of another. When we see someone cry, we hand them a tissue, silently telling them to stop, wipe your tears, be done, please for my sake. We hear pleasantries that for those who are going through the heartache are anything but pleasant to hear. "It is all part of God's plan...Just give it time...God says you shouldn't compare...At least you know you can get pregnant...Just stop trying so hard...Enjoy life without kids - want mine?...Give it up to God..." And while most of these phrases and sayings are said with well-intended meanings, they do not usually bring comfort to those in pain. I have even heard things so far as, "Its time to move one...You need to get over this...Stop being so negative..." said from those who truly love me, but do not fully understand the pain and heartache that I am going through.

So while I would never wish these horrific life experiences and journey on anyone, in some ways, I do count myself lucky. I know pain. I know heartache. I know what it is like to lay on the cold hard floor in the bathroom at two in the morning, begging God to give me my babies back. I know what it is like to see dreams die and have to move on, all the while seeing others around you have their dreams coming true. I know what it is like to see pain and hurt in your husbands eyes that literally makes your heart and soul physically ache. And I know that because of this, I am a better friend, sister, daughter, wife, neighbor, and aunt than I was before. I will not run from the pain of those I love and those that I encounter, but I will sit with them in it. Because at the end of the day, isn't that what those who hurt and grieve want? Someone to just be there with them?

So, do I think that I will be the worlds greatest mother one day? No. I know I will struggle just like any other mother. But I do know, that my heartache will, without a doubt, make me a better mother than I would have been otherwise. And for that, I am thankful.

Lilies of the Valley

I want to share one of my all-time favorite Christian songs, by an amazing singer and performer, Natalie Grant. I had the privilege of seeing her perform  this song live at a Women of Faith conference a few years back. The song spoke to me in so many ways at that time in my life - I was in college, my boyfriend of three years had just broken up with me, I had lost both of my grandparents the year before and I felt like I would never hurt more than I did in those raw moments. This song still speaks to me, but in so many different ways. Christina Wells, the writer of this song, wrote it about three different women who had experienced great loss in their lives. One was a young widow, one a friend who lost an infant son and the last one was her mother-in-law who had a stillborn daughter. While I have not every experienced a loss identical to any of these, I have experienced the loss of my two sweet babies. This song speaks to me now, in so many more ways than it ever has.

One of my favorite lyrics in this song is, "This hand is bitterness, we want to taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow. The wise hand opens slowly, to lilies of the valley, and tomorrow." There have been so many times during this year and a half journey when my bitterness, jealousy, anger and despair have gotten the best of me. I have allowed them to. It has felt better temporarily, as it has numbed that deep, deep sorrow that I felt so viscerally. But the reality is that we have a choice to either choose that hand, bitterness, anger, jealousy, and fear - or - choose something else. Tomorrow. Lillies of the valley. Jesus Christ.

My faith has remained primal in my personal growth throughout the past ten years of life. Without my deep, intrinsic faith in God and His plan for me, I would have floundered so many more times than I actually have. My faith is still evolving and I question it often, especially during tough times like this. Why would God allow something so awful happen to good people like Dan and I, not just once, but twice? What is the purpose of this trying infertility journey that we are on? How can God lead us wrong when all we want to do is bring a child into this world and teach them to live in the ways of Him? So many days, none of it makes sense. It all seems so unfair.

I do believe in my heart of hearts though, that God - my God - will never leave me. He will be there, holding me, even when - especially when - the sacred has been torn from my life. It is the hope that keeps me going. Some days, it is all I have.

Why has it taken so long?

It has been almost two months since my last and first blog post. So much has happened since July, and I don't even know where to begin. I have no idea why it has taken me so long to come back and post. I have had many days when ideas, quotes, thoughts and revelations have come to mind and I wished to come and document it all - but I didn't. I pushed on and through, forgetting to really take the time to take inventory of where I was and what I was going through. Little did I know, time was all I had.

Why has it taken me so long to write this specific post? Denial. Fear. Repression. Grief. All of the above.

On July 21st (ironically only 4 days after my original post) we got our second BFP. After our fourth medicated cycle on Clomid, we found out that we were pregnant for the second time. We of course were elated to find out that we were expecting again, elated but initially very reserved. After going through a pregnancy loss, you realize how complicated and precious a pregnancy can be and taking anything for granted or as a given is a monumental mistake, or so it feels. Things started out really well. I was feeling super sick (which with a healthy pregnancy is a good thing!) and my blood work came back wonderfully. I remember the call I got from the nurse the day of my first draw. She gave me my numbers and I asked what that meant. She said, "It means you are definitely pregnant." I remember feeling such utter joy. Something I had not felt in so so long. I started to ease up, get minimally excited, and dream about our baby-to-be.

At our first prenatal appointment with Dr. M, my RE, everything went as well as could be expected. We saw our little "bug" (this was the endearing nickname Dan and I gave to our growing offspring), growing feverishly, heart beating away. At this stage in the game, just 6 1/2 weeks pregnant, the baby looked like a blob. A blob with a beautiful flicker of a heartbeat. The baby's heartbeat was 98 beats per minute, and while that sounded low to me, Dr. M reassured me that it was completely within normal range and we had nothing to worry about at this point. Nonetheless, I couldn't shake this nagging feeling of impending doom. Here I had just seen my growing baby, what I had dreamt about for the past six months, and I could not feel any joy. We had an appointment scheduled for the following week to check on our progress and I was eagerly anticipating this appointment, hoping that it would bring me some additional reassurance and joy.

The next week was filled with many fears and apprehensions, coupled with bated excitement and anticipation. I broke out my box of pregnancy books that had been packed away since February and allowed myself to even take our first pregnancy photo, which I believed would be one, of many more to come in the following 33 or so weeks. The following Wednesday, the day before my appointment, I sat at work terrified. I could not put my finger on my fears, because unlike our last pregnancy, I truly believed that God would not let us suffer like we had before. I was convinced that we would never have to endure what we did with our last pregnancy. I was so confused and fearful, and left work on my lunch break to go for a drive. I went to a local park and sat in my car and sobbed. I did not know why I was sobbing, nor could I pinpoint my fear, but I begged God out loud to help me. I asked for peace. I didn't ask for the appointment the following day to go well, or for my baby to be alive and healthy, but I asked for peace. After about 15 minutes of crying and praying, a feeling came over me and stilled my heart. I know it was God's peace. I wiped my tears, put the car in drive and continued on with my day, hope-filled, faith renewed.

The following day, Dan and I went to our appointment as planned. I was not scared, nor expecting the worst, as I had with our other prenatal appointments. We were taken into our room after only a ten minute wait (which in my RE's office is nothing compared to a typical hour wait to see the doctor) and within no time, we were having our second ultrasound. I refused to look at the screen, as I had with the ultrasound the week prior, and after what seemed like an eternity of silence, Dr. M, ever so gently and calmly told us that he did not like what he was seeing. He said he did not see the kind of growth from last week that he had hoped for, and after a long pause, there was no heartbeat. I cannot even describe what I felt in that moment, because I honestly do not remember. What I do remember, is the thought that ran through my head, which was, "And here we go again." It was not a sarcastic thought, but yet a defeated, surrendering arms in the air, "I'm done" feeling. After Dr. M excused himself, Dan came and hugged me, with the paper drape still on my legs, sitting vulnerable and exposed, and I sobbed. I cried for my baby who was dead inside of me, for the knowledge that I would be enduring my fourth surgery in seven months, and I cried for my husband, who had a look on his face that I will never be able to wipe from my memory. He was heartbroken, and for my husband, after five years together, this was a first.

I ended up having my second D&C the following day and recovered well from the surgery. It has been almost four weeks since that last appointment and surgery, but in some ways feels like it has been ages. I have gone through so many emotions, so many thoughts, so many fears, tears and what-ifs. After a week off of work, I forced myself to face the world again, and have slowly been acclimating myself to normal life. We are still waiting for the karotyping results from the baby and Dan and my blood work results to come back. We opted for genetic testing for the both of us, and blood typing and an auto-immune work-up for me, as well. We have an appointment scheduled in a week and a half to get our full results and come up with a "where do we go from here" plan. I am not ready to get back on the TTC train, and think that some emotional healing need to happen before I can endure more medicated cycles and the possibility of this happening again. I am waiting for the moment when (as a dear friend puts it), "You'll know when you are ready to try again, when your desire of wanting is greater than your fear of losing."

A second loss, changes you, or at least it has for me. It has knocked the life and breath out of me in a way that I cannot begin to explain. It has me questioning my purpose in life, my career, my God-given ability to bear biological children, or a lack thereof, and so many other roads that I have taken in my short 27 years of life. Some days I am hopeful, knowing that no matter what, no matter what road we need to take, how much time or money it takes, we will be parents someday. But, more so than anything, I feel grief. Grief is a funny thing. It isn't a word or a feeling that is as easily defined as some others like anger, fear, sadness, jealousy. It is a feeling that encompasses all of these things and more. The quote below is a excerpt from something the great C.S. Lewis once wrote. It is a summation of how I feel at this juncture in time.

"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.

At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet, I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me...

An odd by-product of my loss is that I'm afraid of being an embarrassment to everyone I meet. At work, at the club, in the street, I see people, a they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they'll say something about it or not. I hate it if they do, and if they don't...

And grief still feels like fear. Perhaps more strictly, like suspense. Or like waiting; just hanging about waiting for something to happen. It give life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn't seem worth starting anything. I can't settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up 'till this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness...."


And as I said before, time is all I have. I am doing my best to make good use of it from here on out, no matter what the end result.

Moments of Impact

As I sat in bed tonight, while browsing the Internet on the laptop, I watched the movie The Vow. The opening credits began to roll and I got this all too familiar feeling in my gut. A feeling that you get when you smell a familiar scent, hear a familiar song, see a familiar face, visit a familiar place. For me, this movie, was one of those moments - bringing up feelings of a time past. Memories, some of which I would like to forget.

I can tell you when I saw this movie for the first time, the exact date, what I wore, what my husband and I had for dinner that night right before we went to the theater, and how my heart hurt more that night than it ever had in my short twenty-seven years on this earth. You see, earlier that day, on February 13th, 2012, we had a doctors appointment. We had taken off work knowing that this was an exciting appointment, one that we were going to take the entire cold winter day to celebrate with one another over. We were going to celebrate Valentine's Day a day early - a little shopping, lunch, then dinner and a movie. However, our appointment, which was to be the first of many happy and monumental appointments, took a turn that neither one of us had expected.

I had found out that I was pregnant, after almost nine months of actively TTC, countless doctors appointments, referrals to specialists, diagnoses and a round of fertility treatment, on January 15th, 2012. Just four weeks later at our eight week prenatal appointment, we found out that I had miscarried our baby. It was a series of moments that will remain with me forever. The following day, after we had gone home from our appointment and I laid in bed and cried, wishing I could hide from the world forever, then worked up enough courage to go to a local pizza place for dinner still feeling the effects of my lingering morning sickness, and then seeing the movie at the theater, I had surgery. My OBGYN performed a D&C, where I was placed under anesthetic and woke up in a recovery room, feeling empty, sad and betrayed by my own body.

Here I am, a little more than five months out from this unforgettable experience, feeling as though so much has changed, happened and been tossed around inside of me. We still aren't pregnant again, despite two additional surgeries, multiple diagnostic procedures, a new reproductive endocrinologist, a few thousand dollars poorer, and two more failed medicated fertility cycles behind us. We have been through so much, come so far, and are absolutely changed people because of the experiences we have gone through in the past year. I will never be the same. I never imagined that a series of events could change me, for better and for worse, in the ways in which they had.

So why blog? I hope if nothing else, this blog can be a record for me to come back to and see how far I have come. I hope that it can work to allow me to get my thoughts out and my mind cleared. I hope that this blog can be more than a chronicle of our journey with infertility, but can chronicle our lives as a couple and my life as a wife, daughter, friend, neighbor, woman, and one day - mother. I often will come up with a crazy idea, a craft, a good recipe, a new household trick and want somewhere to put it so that I can come back to it. I hope for Imperfectly Perfect to be that place.

In the movie The Vow, there is a quote that spoke to me and still speaks to me. Channing Tatum's character, Leo states, 'The moment of impact. The moment of impact proves potential for change. Has ripple effects far beyond what we can predict. Sending some particles crashing together. Making them closer than before. While sending others spinning off into great ventures. Landing them where you've never thought you've found them. That's the thing about moments like these. You can't, no matter how hard you try, control how it's gonna affect you. You just gotta let the colliding parts go where they may. And wait. For the next collision."

Isn't that so true in so many ways? I know for a fact that it is.