I don't know what my problem is lately. I have plenty of things that I could be writing about, but I end up not doing so because I don't feel like I could write about them with the humor and storytelling that they deserve and that is characteristic of my style. I feel like I do a quick and dirty stick and move – just hit the topic and have it over in a few lines, which is unlike me because I'm usually long-winded and often have to curb my writing so that I don't bore you to death. I've just been stuck unlike any degree of stuck that I've ever felt here before.

I'm sure that a lot of it has to do with the redundancy of finding myself at the starting line yet again. I mean, seriously – how many different and interesting ways can I say that I'm once again looking for intended parents?

June 2, 2008 was what we thought a good news day , and was what should have been the first bit of good news that my road with Mia and Urs was headed towards Babyland. Unbeknownst to us at the time, it was actually the exit ramp onto Highway: Destination Hell and was the first of betas which later tanked and gave us the finger on the way out the door. Two weeks later I rambled about compartmentalizing my feelings about the early miscarriage, closing the chapter to my journey with Mia and Urs, and the awkward-guilt-gratefulness of needing to immerse myself in el Cinco to begin my personal healing process. 

June 2, 2009 I rambled about compartmentalizing my feelings about another early miscarriage, closing the chapter to my journey with Chance and Apollo (oh, how I miss them), and the awkward-guilt-gratefulness of needing to immerse myself in el Cinco to being my personal healing process. 

Broken record, anyone?

Now here I sit, on June 2, 2010, pretty much in the same place that I was in the past couple of years: grieving the loss of a another wonderful match with Miss W and being in the sucktastic position of going through the matching phase all over again. Speaking of how much the process of matching sucks for me because it smacks my infertility/subfertility around in my face over and over again: June 15, 2009. At the end of that one, I wrote;

So, there it is. Remnant sadness and wonky ovaries and all, I'm trying
to find intended parents. Again. This time next year, I hope I'm writing
a post of a different, much happier persuasion.

So much for that.

16 thoughts on “Redux”

  1. Oh Moxie, I know it’s so hard to stay positive through all of this. {{HUGS}} to you, my friend! And HUGE kudos for your strong will and your ability to keep trying. You really are inspirational!

  2. Alexicographer

    I live in awe of what you do (I mean that). It seems to me phenomenally hard. Kudos to you for slogging on.
    (I’m an academic by training. In grad school we were assigned an article entitled, “The Science of Muddling Through.” (I initially typed “Art of …” and then was tempted to put it in all caps. You know, “ART of …” But then I googled and got the real title). It focused on how incremental change is a tool used by public administrators to improve policy. It attracted a bunch of criticism. Twenty years later the author published a … response? … entitled, “Still Muddling, Not Yet Through.” I know that feeling!)

  3. I can’t even begin to put myself in your shoes, and I know I don’t have words that would do anything for you, but I’m sure glad that your sweet cinco and your fartknocker are there filling your heart with enough happiness that you can get through the discouragement. Just wanted to say I’m here, and I think you are wonderful.

  4. As much as I empathized with your feelings in this post…I was so inspired by how much you CARE for the fruition of other people’s dreams. Warm friendly hugs.

  5. You’re trying to do so much here, and for others. That amazes me that you’d go through this again and again for others, cuz I know just going through it for me was awful. You’re amazing chicka. Really.

  6. Oh, Moxie…
    I don’t comment very often, but I’m out here lurking and reading. And hoping. And thinking that you are an amazing, compassionate person.

  7. So funny what you said because I was just thinking of you too when you came across my post 🙂 Compassionate doesn’t even begin to describe what you do for others. Angels among us would be more fitting ((hugs))

  8. Oh hun =( It makes me so angry that IF keeps giving you the finger, You have such a loving, giving heart. All you want is to be able to be there for others in need of what you want to give and IF keeps screwing you over. It makes me ache for you. I hope that this time next year, we’re the ones laughing in the face of IF.
    When you feel up to it, shoot me an email with your free dates this summer so we can plan our summer meet-up. Love ya chick!

  9. It sucks, Moxie. I’m sorry. But, I’ll tell you what, if you’re willing to write about it, I’m willing to read about your journey, even the parts that seem to repeat themselves.

  10. Moxie,
    You know God has a plan for you. I know it is hard to wait… hugs to you. I can say that, if we were to try for a 3rd/4th child via GS, you’d be the perfecto woman for the job. Unfortch, GS is not the way for us, TS is… and because of the Duo’s health issues, we are dunzo with family building.
    That doesn’t keep me from mourning TTC for another member of the family, so I know the pull you feel to help those of us who are barren and infertile.
    Hugs… and hoping His Plan is revealed to you soon. It’s amazing that you miss your FIPs… I think that shows what a truly compassionate woman you are, that even though you, all together, were unable to complete a journey… that your heart is still close to your FIPs and you miss them.

  11. Hey Moxie. Sucks to have the same feeling year after year and at about the same time, I’m so sorry for that. But like the others said, you are AN AMAZING Smart One and that you care so much for so many is unbelievable! Sure we all give support and do care but what you do is beyond amazing. I just know the right match will come along soon. Missed you girl. xxoxo

  12. *hugs* Infertility certain has the knack for smacking us around and then kicking us when we’re down. Hang in there.

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