Love and Sacrifice.

I am going to do my very best to say what I want to say without sounding judgmental, ungrateful, or like an ass. So here goes nothing.

For most people, especially women, the first time they really put themselves last is when a child is brought into the picture. I don't mean putting themselves second or third, but definitely last. Last to shower, last to eat, last to go to the doctor to get refills for the headache medicine. Last to obtain good sleep for months on end. And that's crazy love and sacrifice, but also a rude awakening to what sacrifice means. I imagine, anyway. And even more women say that the ultimate definition of love is what you go through when you become a new parent.

Some women do this and don't look back while others struggle. Some women think they can't do it another day and others have another kid less than 18 months later. Whatever, you know? Some women have that one thing they can't seem to get their kid to do- eat, sleep, poop with regularity. And it breaks my heart when a new mom posts a minor complaint on Facebook or Twitter only to met with, "That's just being a mommy! LOLZ. Get used to it!" I  mean, what the hell? So her kid was sleeping and now isn't- I think that warrants a complaint. But noooo, new parents can never complain about anything ever, cause you know- it's so funny to see someone else suffer. I probably won't share much about my struggles because people seem incapable of being helping but would rather remind you that you're going to be tired for the next 5 years. I'd rather just ask someone in private, which I will do.

Now back to love and sacrifice. I guess I'm privileged enough to already know what putting myself last feels like. I already understand what it's like to worry my head off about the very well-being of another human. I understand true, soul-sucking exhaustion that seemed to eat at me for weeks on end. I know what it's like not to know if the clothes I picked up off the floor are clean or dirty, but wearing them anyway. I know what it's like to shower at 4am because I was up anyway and also, it might be the only time I can enjoy it for a few days.

I have feared for my husband's life in a way most people are lucky they don't know exists. I have helped nurse him back from near death. I have cut rotting flesh from his wounds. I have watched him cry from frustration and pain. I have seen him struggle to feed himself. I saw him in an utterly helpless state, something most adults don't experience, even in their final days.

And in all of that, I was last. I wrecked my little body over and over again, to the point of being unable to walk for days. I have been in the ER more times for tension and migraine headaches since Aaron got hurt than in the past five years (or longer). I am pretty sure I lost my hairbrush at one point, and went around in public looking like a Minion. Good times.

And you know what? For some people, I still might not know what love and sacrifice is. Somehow, an infant is still going to be the hardest thing I will ever do. Love and sacrifice and exhaustion only applies to caring for a child, but never anything else. And while no one has been malicious or continued to argue the point after I made my feelings clear, it has still been on my mind enough that I wanted to write about it.

If someone is going to look me in the face and tell me that what I've done for my husband isn't the same as what I'll do for my child, or that it isn't as difficult, then I have nothing to say. Simply put, if having a baby is worse/harder than what I've already done, then I probably won't be too happy about it. Who in their right mind would sign up for that? What person would look at everything Aaron and I have been through and say, "Bring on something harder! I still don't know what being exhausted means! I don't know love because I haven't had a child!" Seriously. And I am not the only caregiver who feels this way. In fact, even my caregiver friends with kids have let me know that compared to what I've already done, what I'm about to do is totally manageable.

I understand that it won't be the same. I, of course, with my human brain am aware that I will encounter situations I can't fathom until I'm pulling the puke and shit from my hair (but to be fair, I know a lot of caregivers without children who've dealt with their fair share of puke and shit). I am not stupid. I know that this will be challenging in whole new ways. Some things might even feel impossible. I bet a lot of things will. In fact, I am sure I will wonder what the hell I think I am doing at least three times a day. I am not being flippant about my entry into parenthood. But I will say that I have certain skills and tools I've gained throughout my experience as a caregiver that have undoubtedly prepared me in a way that most people aren't privileged to understand.

The biggest damn difference in all of this is that I have a partner this time. When things get rough with the baby, I can look to Aaron for comfort and support. We can make tough decisions together. If there is something wrong, I won't have to be the only one to sign the paperwork that sends the baby to surgery. With Aaron, I had to make decisions I wouldn't even want to make for my puppy. Alone. And while I had the love and support of our families, the decisions were ultimately mine to make for him. I won't have to do that alone again. If the baby ends up in the hospital, needing care, Aaron and I can comfort each other. We can go through it together. And that, right there, is all I need to know to be absolutely positive that having this baby is going to be just a bit easier than helping save Aaron's life. And if helping save his life isn't also an "ultimate" definition of love, then I really don't know what is. Everything I need to know about love, I already do. Anything past this point is just icing on the cake.

On Pregnancy: How did this happen?

So I found out I was pregnant the day DOMA was declared unconstitutional (yay! awesome!). I knew there was a reason I wanted a waffle so badly. Actually, I didn't think I was pregnant at all. We're filming a documentary and I was going to take a pregnancy test for a scene. I was just going down the checklist before I went into my reproductive health appointment to begin testing for IVF: period, no?, take test, negative, report back. It had been quite some time since I'd had a cycle, but I really wasn't concerned. Nothing about the absence felt "pregnant" to me. But then, I had a large loaded caffeinated beverage and was exhausted afterwards. I had some stomach issues. I started to wonder.

I was going to wait to film to take the test, but then I remembered what usually happens when Aaron and I both process something sad/frustrating/negative at the same time: lots of crying and arguing. So, being the woman I am, I decided to take the test the day before so I could spend a little time on my emotions about it before Aaron had any.

Yeah, that didn't work out so well. When the test came back pregnant, I double-checked, pulled up my pants, and ran into the living room. I stood there for a second, holding the plastic wand, just staring at Aaron. He looked at the scene, exclaimed, "ARE YOU PREGNANT?!" and his eyes began to water. All I could do was hand him the test. I couldn't even speak. He immediately asked for more tests, to the tune of about $100 over the next few days. He couldn't believe; neither could I. I managed to get a blood test from the doctor's office a few days later, but at an ultrasound in the ER last week, we learned just how far along I was. We went from 7 weeks to about 9 weeks to over 10 weeks! So now I am in the middle of my 11th week.

I have yet to vomit, but I do have some serious sinus issues I'd trade a good puke for, that's for sure. My body is already changing- it's gone soft. Big roundness in the front and the back. It's all really very strange. I'm really thirsty, fairly hungry, and super tired. Pregnancy insomnia sucks! But I really am not having a bad time at all, and so far am enjoying this.

This doesn't take away the pain of the last few months; hell the last few years. We probably won't be able to do it this way again, since Aaron needs to go back on testosterone and that will eventually sterilize him. But we're not scared; we're just enjoying it.

My next post will about the absolutely ridiculous crap people say to expectant parents. OMG.

Everything Can Change.

We've been through so much. Everything has been more difficult than it should have been. Everything has taken longer and hurt more than what we thought it would. We got to keep each other, yes. But this has not been easy. We haven't felt like winners in a long time.

So it is with great shock and love that I announce our pregnancy. We are overjoyed, and as terrified as expectant new parents could be. We had scheduled IVF for this fall and he had been diligently taking his Clomid, despite the terrible side effects. He was going to bank his sperm so we could try for a kid.

When the sperm analysis came back and we were told it was "almost normal" but the sperm didn't swim in the right direction, I was already pregnant. I was already pregnant when one of our favorite doctors told us we might never conceive outside of a medical office.

I feel like a winner, but not because we conceived at home. Any conception is a win. No, I feel like a winner because we get to try to be parents. We get a chance. I don't care how it came about. I went a long time without knowing I was pregnant (try nearly 8 weeks), have been to the ER once, and have my first official appointment this Friday.  It's already been kind of crazy, but we wouldn't have it any other way.

Meet Glow Worm. I hope to welcome him or her into the world before February!

I Knew.

One of the things I don't talk about too often is how I knew something was wrong the morning I was notified Aaron was injured. I knew I needed to clean the house and get ready for something, but what I didn't know what. Not yet. I think somewhere in my mind I knew something was about to happen. And I think Aaron did, too.

The day before Aaron and I had a long talk, on the phone and internet. We had argued and I had cried, as usual. But then he seemed to really man up and said something to the effect of, "I don't want to make you feel bad. I know this is hard, and we don't talk much, so I want to make better use of our time." So we did. We laughed more then than we ever had. He made some pretty ridiculous jokes, which is about all I can remember. Aaron stayed up late to make me laugh. I awoke the next morning to two emails and another message.

And because of that, I think Aaron knew something, too. He wasn't one to write a lot, especially not three times. Knowing him the way I do now, I think he felt that our arguing, our issues, were probably temporary and decided to focus on the love first, knowing that all the complicated stuff would go away and we would have us, and we wanted to best us.

That morning, as I ate my cereal and read my emails, I compiled a list in my head: start on some schoolwork, clean the house. People were coming over. No, I wasn't having company. But I knew. I had emptied a storage container and wanted to go through it and get it back in the closet. I wanted to clean my house because somehow, I knew it would be full of people.

So I don't know. It takes a lot for me to use the word "miracle" these days; even on Day One. There was the moment I could have found out by email that Aaron had lost his legs, but did not. That was a miracle. A Jesus moment, if you will. And I suppose there have been others, too but they felt more intimate than that. Maybe one day I'll get my religion back in order, but for now I'll be grateful for a God that isn't all cruel. I got to keep him, and build a new life with him.

But back to the topic: I knew something was wrong. Maybe Aaron knew something could happen that day, too. Things had been rough out there- since he isn't going back, he tells me more than he would have a few years ago. A few years ago. He was on his last deployment a few years ago; tomorrow will mark 669 days, or one year and ten months since that day. It's almost funny.

Life is changing in so many ways, and while I'm excited to move on, I don't want to forget, either. I don't want to forget that I knew I could lose him. I don't want to pretend it never happened.

I was eating cereal when life began again. It was harmless. But it was the last ordinary thing I ever did. And I knew in some way. Maybe I'm just lucky like that.

Baby making news.

When Aaron made his first donation for a sperm analysis, he came home and apologized to me. The Clomid he's been taking has really put him under the weather in many different ways, and he didn't think the first test would be any good. Clomid is certainly not testosterone treatment. We went back home to Alabama for a visit afterwards and when we returned, he went to urology the next day. I stayed home with our new puppy (squee, that's a whole 'other post).

He has sperm that is great for IVF! Not great enough to knock me up the old fashion way, but our chances at a successful IVF cycle are pretty good, as long as there aren't any problems with me! I mean, this is such great news. We thought it would take another month of Clomid for anything to be usable, but it is very usable! We haven't been this excited since he got his legs with knees. He is going to take Clomid for a few more weeks and make donations to a sperm bank, and when we're ready to make a baby, we can at least try!

This was some much needed good news. Recovery has been slow around here lately, as he's been having socket issues with his left leg. He also developed a crazy rash while home, and we don't know if it was because of the heat or something a little more serious, like yeast or staph. This whole "wheelchair collecting dust in the corner" business seems like an impossibility. A future seems like a dream.

We are so grateful, though, that our ability to make a baby that's ours genetically is a real possibility. Of course, IVF could fail. It could be awful. But we have a choice, and a chance. I couldn't ask for more than that!