Just How Do Two Women Make a Baby?

Wednesday, November 28th: Cycle day one.

Got in contact with the sperm bank. Weirdest thing I've ever done in my adult life:
Order sperm over the phone.

Friday, November 30th, 7:30 AM: day three blood work.

Monday, December 3rd, 7PM: day 5 Letrozole (oral med to stimulate follicle growth, taken for 5 days) begins, a day late, because we were waiting for blood test results over the weekend.

Friday, December 7th, 11AM: Ultrasound to check follicles. A day earlier than usual, because it's Friday and that's the only choice. The biggest egg is 14mm. Insemination date set for the following week.

I always leave love notes in Chels's lunch.
This one was extra special.

Actual injection was
10,000 units.

In case you were wondering,
there's a how to video on
 YouTube.
You're welcome.

Tuesday, December 11th, 1:30 AM: We've set an alarm to wake up so Chelsey can give me the trigger injection, to release the egg, so that in 36 hours, we can go for the IUI and have the best chance possible for a successful pregnancy. I'm a little nervous, but Chelsey is steady; this isn't her first rodeo giving injections. I've been up throwing up for an hour--food poisoning, we think--and I start to worry that this will mess things up. The shot goes so smoothly I don't even know it's done (there are no nerve endings where the injection goes in the hip/butt area). I continue throwing up  for another 7 hours. It seems like an omen.

Brought an oddly ironic book,
but didn't end up reading it. 

Wednesday, December 12, 1:30PM: Insemination day, or "turkey basting day", if you ask my sister-in-law. She's not wrong! Procedure is similar in duration and sensation to any other pap or pelvic exam I've had. Afterward I lay for 20 minutes with a pillow under my butt.

I spend the next two weeks waiting. Waiting for some kind of sign. Listening to my body and waiting to feel different. I know this is stupid. 

These are the instruments that were laid out, ready and waiting.
Afterwards, the NP said, "I didn't even have to pull on your cervix!"
This is the most terrifying thing I've heard yet.

Sunday, December 16th 8am, 4 days post IUI: laying in bed, looking at articles about pregnancy, the physiological process, and mentally willing these things to happen to my body. Waiting to feel different.

Is it gas? Is it pregnancy? Am I bloated? Am I pregnant? Still waiting.

Tuesday, December 25th: Predicted start day of my period comes and goes. Feeling hopeful.

Wednesday, December 26th, 10AM: I go out and run some secret errands while Chels is at work, getting things ready for the eventuality of telling her we're pregnant.

Wednesday, December 26th, 12PM: It's only been two weeks, which they say is the time to take a pregnancy test. Although I've vowed to wait a few more days, I can feel my period coming. So I take the test: NEGATIVE.

Thursday, December 27th: My period comes. Disappointed is an understatement. It's not a feeling I can really describe, and you can't really know unless you've gone through it. I had to experience my period happening to me for several days. I dread going to the bathroom, because then I would switch from feeling it to seeing it.

We decide to wait a month.

Tuesday, January 22nd: After what seems like an eternity of more waiting, it's day one again.

No blood work this time, round one only. It says that right on the paperwork. But hey, they also said to expect up to four tries, so I suppose that's no surprise. 

Saturday, January 26th-30th: days 5-9 Letrozole

I'm happy to have
some say in the IUI date...
Monday lines up perfectly
with what my tracker app
says will be my most
fertile day.

Friday, February 1st, 8AM: Happy Chinese New Year. It is the year of the pig. I've been encouraged by my friend to take these as good signs, as I happen to love pigs, and new years bring great things. And it's ultrasound day. I'm told I'm an easy scan by the nurse practitioner. Its a great way to start her day. She also informs me that she is doing 4 of these today, so statistically, one of us will get pregnant. I have the deepest empathy for these other women, but I kind of hope its me.

Follicle on the right side has a solid 17mm egg. The NP is excited about this. She says that tomorrow it will be 18mm, which is the beginning of the size range where we want it. We decide on Monday for the IUI.

I relax as best I can over the weekend. With the crazy whether throughout the previous week, I had had 3 snow/cold days off from school--so I was, all in all, pretty relaxed.

Although the video won't work,
you all know I have an affinity for
Boomerang videos. This one is just
Chelsey mixing the injection.
Stirred...not shaken!

She's basically a pro.

Saturday, February 2nd, 10:00PM: It's Chelsey's favorite day; I've been trying really hard not to piss her off in the days prior...

I have a great video of my face while she's giving me the injection, if I can find a way to post it. 

Just as a point of reference, the
small vial is what the sperm comes in;
the box is what the vial comes in.
Nothing says "I've just been inseminated"
like carrying that out of the hospital to
send back to the bank.
PS...you can drop, push, submerge,
or ignite this box, but for the love
of God, DO NO TUMBLE!
  

Monday, February 4th: I go into school for an hour to get things ready for the sub (honestly, it's more work to be out than it is to be at school!) I leave at 9, pick up Chels, and head to the doctor. My doc is doing the IUI this time. It goes quickly, she says to call her in two weeks when we're pregnant. This time we put two pillows under my butt.

On the way home we pick up Qdoba for lunch. At the house, I let mine sit for a half hour while I lay on the recliner upside down (you've all seen that episode of FRIENDS where Phoebe does this; I'll remind you she has triplets!) 

I eat. I relax. I go back to school. 

It's a stressful week, much like they all are. I constantly worry that I'm so stressed, that pregnancy isn't even a possibility. You guys, I'm STRESSING ABOUT STRESSING. 

And still, I'm waiting to feel different. 

Is it gas? Is it pregnancy? Am I bloated? Am I pregnant?

Another friend gently reminds me that I'm not going to feel different yet. 

We are thinking happy thoughts, both her and I.

No Words

We wake up to the news of another mass shooting. 

An alleged threat of similar violence made at the local middle school yesterday kept one of my students from coming to school today. 

I’m going to continue teaching them that they are safe and loved. Because I don’t have words for the rest of it. 

Time Marches On

‘Tis the season, I suppose. The end of the trimester is quickly approaching, which means report cards are due in about a month. I don’t generally mind doing report cards. I start early with the behaviors and knock those out. Slowly work on Reading, then Writing, then Science last. I have a system. 

But this year, I feel like I am already starting out behind. This year, I’m feeling like my kids have started out so far behind, that I’m not sure what to say. 


We had a big talk last week, after an awful session of Science that required them to use what they knew about Earth’s systems to explain how different types of weather and climate are created. The explanations were in front of them, so they basically had to put it in their own words. I planned on an half an hour—it took three times that long. Now I am not too proud to admit an error on my part. I incorrectly assumed that this would be simple enough that we didn’t need to go through one together. So I ended up going through 2-3 with each group. But here’s the thing. We’ve been studying Earth’s systems for several weeks. There are four of them: geo-, hydro-, bio-, and atmosphere. Even after going through examples, the kids couldn’t work independently because they couldn’t even tell me that the mention of “air” indicated atmosphere or “water” meant hydrosphere. So I let them in on a little secret. 

My lesson format, as all teachers will know, is “I do, We do, You do”. I did. I taught. I reviewed. We did. I came around and we did 2-3 together. But the “you do” was missing. I explained to them how I can stand up there and teach my heart out, but if they aren’t putting in the work on their end, it doesn’t matter. They have to internalize the learning. Own the learning. To their credit, they seemed to really take that to heart. 

So now that’s my battle cry: I do, we do, YOU do! With an emphatic point in their direction at “you do!” But it's a still a struggle. Every day I wonder how I can engage them, get them to own and care about their learning. I don't have the answers yet. But I want to do right by these kids. So on we march.

A Little Longer

I started a post this morning that didn’t save. So I’ll come back to that later. 

I got to school this morning and this was in my mailbox—a book we sent off to our librarian to be repaired. It came back with this note on it. And it felt so much bigger than intended. 

Things are far from perfect right now. I’ve been hopeless and defeated—two adjectives I never thought I’d use to describe my job. But on and on we go. And it should hold...for at least a little longer. 

Taking a Breath

Spoiler alert: this post is not running related. But I really wish it was. 

It’s been a rough week at school. One of the toughest I’ve had in my 6 years as an educator.  

I’m struggling with my job, and my profession. 

Where to start? I work at a school that is about 75% free and reduced lunch. Many of my kids are growing up rough. Trauma comes in many different forms. Our families can’t be compared to trees...it’s more of a pumpkin patch, with vines going in all ways. Aunts, grandparents, sisters come to Open House and conferences—legal guardians, default guardians. I work with a phenomenal staff, from principal to paras—we are all in, every day, working to meet the needs of our kids and do right by them. To quote my principal, in an appropriately timely analogy: every day is game 6 for us. 

This year our district decided to engage in trauma-sensitive training. It’s a lot of what we feel we do for our kids daily—building relationships, providing structure and a safe place to learn. By no means are we experts, but we are pretty damn good. That being said, we know there is always something we can learn. 

Being trauma-sensitive means putting the needs of our kids—the TRUE needs—before the curriculum. And therein lies the problem. What I’ve begun to question is, are the curriculums we have—the scripted, boxed, curriculums—trauma-sensitive? Or do we have trauma-sensitive practices, meaning the way and the pace in which we teach? We are given pacing guides to follow—start on this date, end on this date. Some are down to the day. The theory is that if a child from my school moves to another school in the district, teachers will be in the same place with their teaching. It’s not necessarily the theory I disagree with—it’s the practice. 

I told you about the kids at my school in general terms. So essentially what it comes down to is that everyday I am challenged with teaching traumatized kids. Kids with things weighing so heavily on their minds, they can’t concentrate on learning. I’m up for that challenge—I am awesome at building relationships with kids. But this year has been frustrating. My kids are super chatty. And very disengaged. So I’ve started thinking about why. We will never have enough hours in the day, for one. I’m constantly telling them to hurry up, transition quickly. For another, our curriculums, overwhelmingly, ask them to sit in one place for extended periods of time. And for another, when we start asking them to do things that involve talking in partners or groups about a topic, or work together to solve a problem, they struggle, because a majority of their communication happens digitally, with emojis, and shorthand. 

So let me tell you, more specifically, what I’m up against. This week was rough for my kiddos, too. I don’t know if Mercury is in retrograde or what, but somethings got us all a little off. After lunch recess on Tuesday, we needed to solve some conflicts before we could move on with our learning. So we had a family class meeting, a kind of open forum in which we don’t use names or point fingers, but kids talk openly about their problems. This gives others involved the chance to hear how their classmates are feeling, and acknowledge and respond if they choose. It also gives others a chance to offer solutions or kind words. I chime in when necessary, to moderate, summarize, or move things along when they aren’t productive. 

We had some good stuff going on in this meeting, but I also realized just how traumatized some of my kids are. One student spoke about how they don’t get to see their dad. How dad was a drunk when they were little. Five other kids chimed in that they could relate: dad left when they were one; dad was an addict; never met their dad; dad is in jail; a thinly-veiled admission—“I live with my grandma.” The original student later admitted that when it all gets to be too much, they want to kill themself. And if this wasn’t already heartbreaking enough to hear, two other kids offered up their own voices to say, “Yeah, me too.”

Me too?! You guys, I can’t even. I teach 10 and 11 year olds. Or at least I’m supposed to teach them, these children who are contemplating their mortality. So tell me how I’m supposed to ignore all of that and just teach. Because to tell the truth of it, my teaching goals have nothing to do with Math, Reading, or Science. Yes, that meeting (and the two that followed the following day) side-tracked my teaching plan for the day. But they were necessary. Because I have 10 and 11 year olds who can’t process their emotions enough to work through them and come up with a better solution than contemplating suicide! 

In the days that followed the first meeting, one of my students was caught sending inappropriate emails (again, not knowing how to cope with our emotions, not being able to draw lines between what’s age-appropriate and what’s not); a second was referred to the crisis team; a third fell asleep for a good chunk in the afternoon (because with no rules or limitations at home, and technology and “screens” being the main form of entertainment, of course we are going to be tired); and sprinkled throughout, the normal conflicts that occur throughout the typical school day, that affect their little minds and hearts. 

I’m struggling. I’m trying to figure out how to help my kids in the actual important ways. How do I make traumatized kids feel safe and loved enough to help them learn? I’m trying to decide if carrying my kids so heavy on my heart is sustainable. Is this my forever career? I’m trying to understand how my district thinks pacing guides are equitable. Again, I get the theory, but in practice, they’re not trauma-sensitive. 

My work as an educator feels more important than ever. I know this. But after this week, I’m feeling defeated. 

For this reason, I would never recommend marrying a teacher. But my wife did. And this week, she’s been supporting me in all the right ways. 

And there were other bright spots. As the new student council advisor, me and 100 kids ran a very successful food drive. This picture is from day one:

And here is day three:

And now that little window display is quite full. It was fun to watch the school come together for a common cause. Great to watch the friendly competition develop between the fourth grade classes (who came in first and second). 

I’m loving this challenge of figuring out how to make a club compromised of about a third of the school function. This I can control. 

The rest...I suppose I’ll have to figure that out. 

Are We There Yet?

The board in the lounge at school 💗💗

It's been a week and change. I don't know if the high has worn off, or if there even was a high to begin with. I felt defeated by that last 13.1 miles. 

Last Monday I went to get my knee assessed at Athletico. The PT said that it's likely sprained. We also talked body mechanics--if something was wonky in my hip, everything else down the line would be affected. If my quad was strong, but my hamstring wasn't, that could affect things, too. So for the next 6 weeks I will be working on stretching and strengthening in PT.

So mentally and emotionally...well, even I don't believe it, but I definitely want to run again. Another marathon, for sure. But for now, I'd love to run even two miles. I miss the high--because yes, there was a high. I miss training. It's hard to take it slow. But I know that ultimately, doing it this way will allow me to get back out there. So I have to. And I will. 

Here we go again.

The Best Laid Plans

By all accounts, it was the perfect day for a marathon. The weather was overcast, but not rainy. Chilly, but not cold, especially once you started running. The course was wonderful --fall colors starting to pop up all over. It was flat and downhill all the way from Grafton to Milwaukee. It was the perfect day for a marathon...but it wasn't a perfect marathon. 

I've been fighting lots of conflicting feelings in the last 24 hours, which is why I've waited to post. I know that the point is that I finished the marathon. But it didn't happen like I planned. Like I wanted. 

The first half, the first 13.1 miles, felt great. I was on pace to finish in under 6 hours, which I was psyched about, because it was a better time than I was anticipating. Somewhere around mile 12, my knee started hurting. Made it to the halfway point, walked through the water station, and tried to start running again. A no go. Walked to mile 14. Tried to start running again--a twinge on the lateral side of the knee--no go. Tried a few more times to run, but was stopped each time. 

So I started walking like hell. I knew it would be close. For a good portion of that 13 miles, I thought I would be finishing before the 6:30 cutoff. Several times, I found myself fighting back tears. Saying, "Fuck this," out loud. Letting out a great deal of frustrated sounds. 

I was in the last two miles when the 6:30 pacer passed me. PASSED ME. On pace. And I knew I was done. I knew I wasn't gonna make it. And I almost lost it. I just wanted to be done. I tried running one last time--it hurt too bad. 

I trained for this. Hard. Mentally, I was ready. My pace was good. My muscles were ready. My heart was in it. But this, I couldn't control. It wasn't a matter of me stopping because I was tired. It wasn't something I could talk myself out of. My body was telling me no.

I saw Janet around mile 3; Chelsey at 4; Uncle Bob and DJ at 8; Chelsey again at 15 and 18. And I crossed the finish line at 6:36:39, into the arms of my family. I hugged my mom and I cried. I hugged my wife and I cried. I looked at my in laws, my brothers, my godmother, through tears. Turned around to hug Janet, and cried. But there they all stood, cheering me on, telling me how incredible I was, what a superhero I was. How, when I felt so undeserving, could they stand there and praise me like that?

They are my people. And it hit me that I couldn't have done this without them, without any of them. Everyone who has been with me from the start of my training until now. Loving and supporting me. I received so many cards, texts, and messages before my race. Was sent so many cheers during the race (most of which I had to listen to afterwards, because the app is weird). And then I got to have dinner with my family. Not to mention everyone who donated to my GOTR fundraiser. I have the best people. I did this for all of you, as much as I did it for myself. Thank you!

So when it all comes down to it, I accomplished my goal: I finished the marathon. Not like I planned. Not like I wanted. But I finished. 

I am feeling a lot of things. Accomplished. Defeated. Exhausted. Proud. I'll work it all out. And in a year or two, I'll come back for those 6 minutes and 39 seconds. But for now, I think I've earned a little time to relax. 

My training schedule. It will be a little sad to take it off the wall.

Me, making a deal with the race day bathroom gods, that we will have NO surprises. 

At a race like this, you line up by the time you think it will  take you to finish.

I found mine pretty quickly.

The start...

And the end. 

All

of

my

people

were

there :)

The Fastest Three Miles I've Ever Run

Well, here we are. It's the night before the marathon. I'm feeling  a lot of things. It's been a good week of running. I've enjoyed all the carbs. And haven't minded the obscene about of water I've consumed. After attending a "course talk" at the marathon expo today, I'm feeling good about knowing what's coming in the course tomorrow. I've done the training--my body is ready. My heart is in it. I'm sad that my training journey is over. Excited to cross the finish line tomorrow. 

But most of all, what I feel tonight is an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I am so very blessed to have all the support and love that I have surrounding me. I've heard many kind words from friends and family. I've listened to lots of great advice. Hugs, handshakes, high fives. And I will carry all of that with me tomorrow.

I am overwhelmed by all those who donated to my GOTR Fundraiser. I more than met my goal--$570! Donating stays open for 30 days after the marathon...and a nice round $600 would be pretty sweet ;-) But I am beyond grateful for what my people have helped me do--I can't wait until spring when it's GOTR season. I love coaching for this program more than words can explain!

This week as I rode out the taper, I challenged myself not to give up, to keep pushing. On Tuesday I ran in one of my very favorite places, the lakefront in Milwaukee, a place I will return to tomorrow as I cross the finish line in the longest run I've ever done. The weather was beautiful, and I was taken back by all of nature's beauty. The leaves are starting to change--I love this time of year. Even better, I PR'd on my 3 mile time. My last mile was 10:52--faster than I've run in a long time. 


My Thursday morning run was a quick two miles. A cool fall morning, surprising after a summer of humidity hell. The stars were still out. I loved it :) Stayed close to home. Wore my half marathon shirt fort inspiration. And the #killingit head band for the same reason. 



Today I got to spend a few minutes with my running bestie. She brought me this sweet little good luck package. Super excited about the shoe charm. And was so excited about the LaraBars that I scarfed one down before I got a picture! Words can't explain how grateful I am to her for being so damn inspiring that I just couldn't help but train for a marathon!



Tonight also brings a lot of reflecting on this crazy journey. But I have another 26.2 miles to think about that tomorrow, so I shall talk to you all then. 

This time tomorrow, I'll be a marathon finisher. I. Can't. Wait. 

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