Crossroads

Just completed cycle 5. 
All the vials we purchased last year are gone. 
I used up my last pregnancy test. 
It has officially been a year since we decided to try for baby #2. 
I am still not pregnant.

We are at a crossroads. 

There are so many factors playing into our decisions about what happens next. 
Money.  Time.  Health.  And emotions.  So many emotions. 

Grief.
Anger at myself and my body.  
Jealousy of every friend, coworker and acquaintance preparing to have a second or third child.
Deep, deep sadness at knowing that Peanut may never have a sibling.
Confusion about how to keep moving forward toward our dreams.
Resistance to closing up this particular dream.
An overwhelming, pulsing desire to move to a new city. 
Fear of change, of giving up what's currently known and comfortable. 
Hope that because we want to raise another child, we will figure out how to do so.

Negative

My boobs got huge this time.
I was exhausted all week.
I was peeing more than usual.
The signs were so clear that despite the fact that I was trying to be
measured, calm, present,
I became so very hopeful, optimistic, and convinced
that THIS time I was really, truly pregnant,
that I began tracking my symptoms daily.

On Friday night, 11 DPO, the night before testing,
I had a dream.  I dreamt that it was morning, and I peed on the stick.
It was positive.
As soon as I saw those two bright pink lines,
I received a photo from my best friend via text.
It was a picture of her with a pregnancy test in her mouth.
She wrote, "I'm taking the test now!"
Moments later, she wrote, "it's positive!"
I had no idea she was even trying (she's not, in real life).
But I was overwhelmed with excitement.  We were both pregnant!
We had the same due date!

And then I woke up, and it was 12 DPO, so I took the test.
S joined me in the bathroom.
And we stared, and stared, and willed the pink line to show up.
For a full five minutes we waited.  And then we looked at each other with disappointment.
I took the test, put it back in it's wrapper, and took it to the trash.   
I crawled back into bed, completely numb.

February

That's right.  It's February.  We tried to conceive back in December for a third time, and despite experiencing the cruel ghost of of early pregnancy symptoms (strong nausea) right at 12 DPO, two days before Christmas, poof, just like that, I got my period.  The nausea turned out to simply be a stomach bug.  This time I was CERTAIN that I was pregnant, so much so that even into late January when I hadn't gotten my period again, I thought... "what if?"

Peanut turned two last month.  TWO!  And again, poof!  Just like that, the "terrible twos" emerged.  She's so funny and energetic and curious, and now also willful and stubborn and did I mention curious?  She's into everything.  And it's her way or the highway.  Or actually, her way or the floor, where you'll often find her kicking her legs, wailing, screaming "NOO!"   She's also singing silly songs, playing hide and seek, making elaborate meals in her toy kitchen, and building (smashing) block towers.  It's a whirlwind of fun at our household these days.  She keeps us on our toes :) 

We're in the midst of round 4 of TTC.  Today is CD12, and an ultrasound this morning confirmed that there is one promising 15mm follicle in my left ovary.  I'll begin checking ovulation kits tonight, probably do the trigger shot on Saturday, and inshallah, IUI 4 will take place on Monday.

Peanut was conceived on IUI 4 - perhaps it's our lucky number?   

The gig is up

15 DPO... And CD1.  Yep, I got confirmation this morning that I am most certainly not pregnant, weird symptoms be dammed.  I actually just felt relief to know one way or the other.  It was a long 33 days with all the anxiety and stress of having to navigate around my travel plans, etc.

We are not going to try this month due to timing issues with our upcoming honeymoon.  But S helped me figure out that we don't, in fact, have to wait until December.  We can try in October without adversely affecting our November travels!  I don't know why the possibility hadn't occurred to me before.  But I feel relief knowing the next cycle is right around the corner.  And in the meantime, I can plan to enjoy my favorite seasonal beer this month: pumpkin ale.

Playing Tricks (Cycle 2, 12 DPO)

Yesterday, at 11 DPO, I woke up first thing in the morning and took a pregnancy test.  And it was negative.  Yes, it was early - most folks don't recommend testing until at least 12 DPO.  But it wasn't so early that I might not have seen the faintest hint of a line if I was, indeed, pregnant.  But the testing strip was woefully bare.  I crawled back into bed, numb, and slept for another two hours.

It wasn't until much later in the day that the grief started to set in.  It was when I was serving Peanut her lunch that I suddenly said to S, "I'm feeling really sad."  S confirmed that he was feeling the same way.  My eyes filled with tears and I went off to the bathroom to have a little solitary cry.  I carried the sadness with me for the rest of the day.  It wasn't until S and I really processed it all that night that I started to feel some closure.

And yet, at the same time, I've been having a series of unusual physical experiences for several days.  I have been extremely restless and haven't slept well for three nights now - a very rare occurrence for me.  I've been feeling weird in my body, nauseous and awkward since last Friday.  Food and coffee haven't been sitting right with me.  Something has been off.  While at work today, I felt sick to my stomach for most of the afternoon.  I almost considered going home early.  Nothing - not food, water, sweets or tea - made me feel any better.

"What is going on with me?"  I thought.  And suddenly, there it was - the little inch of hope, creeping into my chest.  "What if... the test was wrong?  Or too early?  What if I AM pregnant?  That would explain all the weird symptoms I've been experiencing, right?"  The whispers grew more insistent, and questions of possibility tugged and tugged at my mind.  "I mean, I haven't felt cramping like I'm getting my period.  Last cycle, I got my period at 12 DPO, but I haven't gotten it yet this cycle.  My breasts are tender, right?  Maybe... I should remain hopeful?  Maybe I should take the approach of pregnant until proven otherwise?"

One of the most challenging parts of the TTC process has always been the inability to trust anything I'm feeling in my body.   This vessel I typically know so well is all of a sudden a mysterious physical entity, planting seeds of doubt and hope throughout my heart in equal measure for weeks at a time.  My body is playing tricks on me, and at the moment, I don't like it very much.

Reflections on Cycle One in the Midst of Cycle Two

We waited until July to start our first cycle.  S and I are scheduled to take a belated honeymoon/extended trip without Peanut in November, so we wanted to time the process to line up with the second trimester of pregnancy during our trip (not the third), in case I should happen to get pregnant on our first try.  I'm nothing if not an obsessive planner at heart.

So I enjoyed the month of June with an occasional beer, some yoga classes, and all the summer breeziness I could muster, trying not to let me excitement/anticipation of the beginning of a new pregnancy get the better of me.  I didn't succeed.  I actually spent too much time staring at the calendar and counting the weeks (end of first trimester, telling people, vacation, end of second trimester, maybe one more trip to S's homeland, Peanut turning two, baby's birth, my parental leave).  I fantasized about reducing my work hours to spend more time with both kiddos.  I read pregnancy forums on the Internet.  And on and on. 

I went into Cycle One having built it up so much that I was holding back tears on the actual day of the insemination (July 31 / CD 20).  My body was overrun by too many hopes, plans, dreams, wishes, fears all wrapped into It Has to Work This Time.  Anxiety coursed through my body from the day S gave me the "trigger shot" to induce ovulation until the moment the insemination happened. And ultimately I didn't get pregnant.

I didn't think about what would happen in this scenario.  At all.  In June, I foolishly booked a flight to go visit a dear friend over Labor Day, not even considering I might be TTC at that point.  I now realize we can realistically only try one more cycle - right now - in order to be in the second trimester during our honeymoon.  Which means I need to cancel my Labor Day trip.  If it doesn't work this time, our next attempt will have to be in December.  DECEMBER.  It feels like an eternity from now, especially with Age 35 looming over the horizon of 2015, with the straight family friends with a kiddo just 3 weeks older than Peanut having welcomed their second kid already, with wanting to get the heck out of the Big City and move to a smaller city already, with wanting to quit our jobs and open our own business, with OMG my previously good insurance denying all the claims from the clinic and my copay went up to $50 per visit (and there are a LOT of visits) so how can we afford this, etc.

It has been hard to keep my optimism up.  I've been gloomy and moody, and frustrated with myself for setting up my own ridiculous expectations and "plans."  I'm trying to remember there can be no expectations in this process.  Things will happen when they happen.  I'm trying to get out of my head and focus on gratitude.

Here We Go

S and I took the train together this morning to our old fertility clinic - two years to the month since Peanut was conceived.  It was a blue-skied, fresh Spring day, and the morning light made everything seem lovely and full of promise.  I felt butterflies in my belly as we walked the familiar block from the train to the clinic.  We met with our wonderful doctor again, who has since had her own little one.  She was so kind and supportive, and indulged us in our many stories about Peanut.

Everything about the meeting reassured us that the right time for us to move forward is NOW.  I'm excited and eager to start the process!   

Number Two?

A few weeks ago, a colleague shared some significant news with me about her life, her subsequent plans for the upcoming summer, and how it would impact my own summer workload.  I discussed it with S as we worked in the kitchen that evening.

"I think this news is embedded with a message to me," I mused.  "It has some significance for my life.  I've been thinking about it all day, and I can't quite figure out what it is."  I continued to cut up fruit for our lunches the next day.  S worked his way through a mountain of dishes.

"Maybe I'm supposed to to try to get pregnant this summer," I finally speculated.

"Maybe," S responded neutrally.  The truth is, we've been toying with the idea of having a second child for several months.  We've gone back and forth on the question, unsure about the right thing to do for our family.  On the one hand, the thought of having a second child spending ten hours per day in daycare and just a few hours per day with me and S just makes me sad.  We don't have enough time with Peanut as it is, never mind if we were to add a newborn to the family.  Plus there are significant financial questions to consider, the constraints of our limited living space, and the fact that we've been seriously exploring relocating in the next year or so.  Now that I'm not breastfeeding any more, we've settled into a nice, comfortable routine with Peanut that affords us more sleep, more quality of life, and more ease as she becomes increasingly independent and capable of communicating with us.  I'm enjoying the way things are now.

And yet, I can't stop looking at the siblings all around me.  On my commute to work, at the playground, in the historical fiction I read.  In fact, I just today finished a book that is built around the story of love and connection between a brother and sister.

I've been seeing signs everywhere.

I decided to talk in confidence with another colleague of mine, who had two babies in quick succession during the past few years, to get some advice about being a parent of two.  She spoke directly to the fears that had been consuming my mind for months.

"I was so scared I wouldn't have enough space in my heart or my life for a second child after having the first," she said.  "My first child cracked me open in ways I never expected and my love for her was so big.  I didn't think I could love another child just as much.  I was so wonderfully surprised when my second child was born.  My heart got even bigger!  I quickly realized my for each of them individually was amazing.  AND I love them together."

My chest filled with emotion.  We talked about our relationships with our own siblings and how a positive sibling relationship - nor any relationship at all - was not a guarantee.  And yet, we agreed that to have another person with whom to navigate origin family relationships is an incredibly special thing, especially when that relationship is a good one (i.e. a person to deal with all the *stuff* S and I will inevitably put Peanut through!)  We talked about the logistics of juggling two kids and how important it is to have support.  We talked about how to handle a demanding work schedule and the different ways we can create space to spend time with our kids and still maintain a fulfilling career.  The conversation, to my surprise, ended up very quickly revealing to me that I am ready.  Really ready.  I want to try to have another baby.  Now.

S and I continued discuss our fears and excitement during the next few weeks, and (not surprisingly, given how we tend to be pretty in sync about big life decisions), decided it was a good time to move forward. We checked in with our cryobank to see if the donor we used to conceive Peanut still had vials available (YES).  During my annual appointment with my GYN, I spoke with my doctor about our plans and she, too, was incredibly supportive.

I went ahead and made an appointment with our clinic for later this month.  We are tentatively ready to board the baby-making train again!  

IUI #4

Today was yet another momentous day... IUI #4.  Though S couldn't be with me in person, it was still a smooth and uneventful process.  The doctor this time was a man, one who has performed ultrasounds for me before and isn't particularly my favorite.  But he did a good job with making me feel comfortable, being transparent about each step in the process, and approaching my body gently and with sensitivity.  I experienced only a mild cramp and then laid on my back to wait for a full ten minutes before getting up.



Knees up, with vial.


During the wait, I called S, who had thankfully had just completed an exam at his doctor's office and was available to chat for a few minutes.  "Remember, your body is perfect," he said, in typical loving, supportive, S form.  "And remember that life is wonderful."  His words calmed me and made me smile.  We hung up the phone and I stayed still, knees up, clutching the plastic "souvenir" vial from which our donor sperm came.  I prayed, and breathed, and counted my blessings.  I reminded myself how lucky I am to have the space, time, amazing support, and resources to go through this process of trying to conceive.

As I walked out of the building toward the train, I ran into our primary doctor on the street.  She saw me and smiled, and asked how I was doing.  I chose to take the encounter as a good sign from the universe.

The night before IUI #4

Tomorrow I'm going to the clinic for IUI #4.  But this time, it will be without S.  Due to the complications with his wisdom teeth, he had to reschedule an appointment with his cardiologist for tomorrow - before we knew it was the same day the IUI would be scheduled.  Since he only sees this doctor every 3-4 months, and it takes a while to get an appointment, we agreed it would make sense for him to go see his doctor and for me to go through the IUI alone.  It is a quick procedure, after all, and the doctors barely make eye contact with him, never mind greet him by name or involve him in the process.  So I think it will be fine.  There is a part of me that feels sad that he won't be there for emotional support.  He has been such a huge part of making each of the inseminations go well/smoothly for me.  And, psychologically, there is already so much loss in this medicalized process, that for him not to be there makes me feel he is yet another step removed from the process.  Still, I know it is okay.  I am strong, I am ready to receive our baby and to go through the process knowing that S is sending me his love, and is with me in spirit.  He'll be there to cuddle and comfort me at night when we both get home from work.

Guaiphenesin

Last week, S and I took the day off so he could visit the dentist and have two of his wisdom teeth removed.  While we sat for endless hours in the waiting room, a TV talk show called "The Revolution" aired with a focus on fertility.  I sat up a little straighter in my chair and sushed S when he tried to talk to me about unrelated matters.  I wanted to gather up all the tips I could get. 

In addition to some of the nutrition-related tips I already knew (eat lots of protein and dairy, which I have been doing), the TV doctor mentioned that cough syrup (guaiphenesin) might be a good thing to take around the time of ovulation to help thin out cervical mucous.  So I searched the web for more info.  While it's not backed up by much research, folks say that Clomid can actually increase "hostile" (i.e. thick) mucous, so taking guiphenasin can help make CM more "friendly" to sperm trying to get through the cervix.  However, for folks only trying IUIs (which bypass the cervix), taking this step won't really help.

Nevertheless, I figure it can't hurt to try, right?  Anything I can do for my body to help create a favorable environment for conception is worth it to me.  The prescription: 2 teaspoons of guiphenasin, 3 times per day for five days, with plenty of water.  Let's give it a try.

Cycle #4 Update

It's day 17 of Cycle #4.  Our next insemination will likely take place during the next five days.  Same routine - 100mg of Clomid, several follow-ups to make sure my follicle(s) are growing.  I'm relieved to know that the dominant follicle this time - 17.5mm as of Friday - is in my left ovary.  I was getting concerned that perhaps was something wrong with the left side.  I'm looking forward to the next try, working on staying hopeful/positive about our chances.  And at the same time, beginning to explore new options.

Tomorrow morning I'll be meeting with our primary doctor to talk about where we are in the process.  Should we try another IUI if #4 doesn't work?  How many more should we do?  Should we try inseminating twice during the next cycle?  Should we try a different donor?  Is is time to start thinking about IVF and/or adoption?  I hope she'll offer the support and hope I need right now to help me believe that one of these days, I will actually have the opportunity to be pregnant.

Grief

I am utterly exhausted.  Emotionally drained.  It has been a rough two days.  A roller coaster of feelings have coursed their way through my body. I am simultaneously able to understand that my irrational thoughts are normal at a time like this, and ashamed to be having the thoughts in the first place. 

I've been looking at happy couples with babies and toddlers with resentment.  I've been feeling bitter about how easy it is for straight people to keep trying to get pregnant with an unlimited supply of fresh eggs and sperm.  I've been frustrated with the process of having to take medication that makes my boobs extra sore, my cramps extra persistent, and my mood swings even swingy-er.  I've been annoyed that with every two week wait, I've been eating more greens and avoiding alcohol, as if something were actually happening.  I've been irritated that I've been taking prenatal vitamins for over two years and stopped drinking caffeine for nothing.  I've been hearing every announcement of a friend or acquaintance's pregnancy (or second pregnancy, or third pregnancy) as a personal attack.  Every newborn I've seen on Facebook has been another moment the universe is wagging it's nasty finger at me, saying, "see, your parents are right, it isn't normal to be queer!"

In sum, this process of trying to get pregnant - and failing - is bringing forth all my horrible demons.  It is feeding into my tendency to catastrophize, to try to control and plan things, to compare myself and my self worth to others, to be a perfectionist.  It is bringing up my internalized homophobia.  It is tickling my sense of fear and urgency about S's age and his heart condition.  It is playing into my frustration with New York City, and how our quality of life is deeply affected by the cost of living here, both economic and emotional. 

I've been having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning.  I've been walking like a zombie throughout my days.  I've been bottling things up.  I've been crying. 

I am tired. And angry that because of homophobia and transphobia, because of racism and classism, because I've been trying to live my life by other people's timelines and rules and expectations, we didn't try getting pregnant any sooner, even though we were ready. 

 I'm having a hard time trusting that this is all in the universe's grand plan for me, for us.  Even though S has been diligently and patiently reminding me, every single day, that in fact, it is. 

HPT #3

I woke up earlier than usual today to take a HPT (it's 12 DPO).  It was negative.  Again.

I'm not quite sure what to say about it at this juncture.  We now know that we will not be giving birth to a baby in 2012.  3 failed IUIs means we need to make an appointment with our doctor to discuss next steps.  I'm not sure if we will be able to (or want to) go through any further IUIs.  We most likely will need to start thinking about whether to go through IVF or adoption.  Both expensive options. 

My sense of hope has been diminished.  I'm feeling numb and deeply disappointed. 

Conception Day (IUI #3)

That's what we dubbed today after a really positive IUI experience.  S gave me the Ovidrel injection two nights ago, and we showed up at the clinic this morning ready to inseminate.  I felt hopeful and happy about the process.  We worked on a crossword puzzle while we waited our turn. 

We had some time alone in the examination room before the doctor arrived.  S held my hands and said a little prayer.  I felt deeply connected to him, grounded, at peace.  Ready to trust the universe.  The doctor who performed the insemination was one of my favorites at the clinic, a woman who performed my pap smear back in December and was friendly, kind, and respectful.  I was relieved to see her, and with good reason.  The IUI ended up being the least uncomfortable of the three.  S held my hand and gave me kisses during the quick procedure.  He reminded me to breathe and relax.  The doctor said, "now that's a supportive partner!" I felt so blessed.

In the ten minutes we had to connect and be together after the insemination, S put his warm hand on my uterus and we kissed.  It was a sweet, meaningful private moment.  During which he tried to convince me we should play hooky from work and spend the sunny day in the park or at the zoo.  We decided, instead, to go out for a special breakfast before work.  We found a European-themed cafe nearby and celebrated our conception day with french toast, decaf coffee, an egg white omelet with asparagus and onions, and earl grey tea.  I had a wide grin on my face throughout our special meal, and felt lighthearted and happy throughout the entire day.  I had no cramping or discomfort.

Regardless of what happens during the next two weeks, I trust my body, I trust the process, and I am grateful to have shared such a beautiful day with S.  I felt better than I had in weeks, for a variety of reasons both tangible (large follicle, non-painful IUI, good doctor) and spiritual.  I am grateful for the opportunity to attempt to bring our first child into the world.

25 Millimeters

I went to the clinic this morning for another ultrasound, and learned I have one nice large follicle in my right ovary, just about ready to release.  The 100mg dose of Clomid worked!  It's the largest follicle I've had out of all the cycles so far.  That, in some way, made me feel better, more hopeful, than I did during Cycle 2.  I also produced an abundance of "egg white" or "fertile" CM today, which again, made me feel optimistic.  I think our timing is right this time around.  My body feels more ready than ever to go through the process of ovulation, insemination, and conception. 

I plan to focus my energy during the next few days on being grounded, holding onto hope, staying connected to S, and praying.

The future embryo

Went to the clinic this morning - Cycle 3, CD11.  Met with a male doctor whom I've come to trust over the past couple months.  He is very explicit and intentional about everything he does and says.  He is clear about what I can expect ("now you'll feel this, now I'm going to look at the follicles on the left, do you have any questions about the process?")  As he measured the thickness of my uterine lining today, he said, "this is where the future embryo will implant."  It was a minor statement, in many regards, but one that struck me as very hopeful and optimistic.  It made me feel good.  Maybe even a little hopeful myself.  I only had one large follicle so far (14mm on the right), and he told me to begin checking my ovulation kits and to come back into the office for another ultrasound on Monday.  At this rate, if the one follicle continues to grow, I anticipate we'll be doing the next IUI at the end of the month. 

On intimacy

The other day I was on the phone with a friend, talking about trying to get pregnant.  And she mentioned to me that another friend of ours, who is currently in a heterosexual relationship, is also trying to get pregnant.  "She was supposed to ovulate on the third of the month," she said, "so they made sure to have sex on the second."

The first thought that crossed my mind was, "sex?" 

The process of TTC for me, at this point, has become so far removed from sex that I actually forgot that some people can get pregnant that way.  By turning to their partner, getting close, and being intimate.  In bed.  And maybe even having fun and finding pleasure in the process. 

TTC has rendered my relationship with intimacy and my body into something kind of uncomfortable and awkward.  In general, TTC has actually meant not having sex.  When S and I tried to get physical during the first IUI cycle, I kind of freaked out.  My body had been examined and touched and poked so many times that it was hard to erase the medicalized feelings I was having about my body.  Fertility drugs made me constantly feel run down and crampy and just constantly conscious of my hardworking reproductive system.   And during the 2WW, a part of me was concerned that being physical might cause something to "disrupt" the process of implantation (which I knew, rationally, was not going to happen, but I couldn't help feeling it). 

To hear that our friend was having the opportunity to try to get pregnant with a body that ovulates regularly, with access to fresh sperm that belongs to her partner, and in a way that involves closeness and connection and safety and privacy and fun made me feel... resentful.  Bitter.  Frustrated about the challenges being queer and dealing with infertility bring to our lives.  Frustrated that others have it so "easy." 

Post-IUI

Post-IUI, I ended up having a day filled with unexpected, very strong cramps.  So much so that I had trouble going to the bathroom, trouble sitting at my desk, trouble walking in high heeled boots for hours upon end.  Upon arriving home all I wanted to do was put on some non-binding pants and curl up on the couch.  Which is exactly what I did.  At that point, I suddenly had a mild fever and nausea (which, to be honest, might have been the outcome of some random Thai food I ordered for lunch today).  Nevertheless, I was exhausted, run-down, and physically very uncomfortable.  Ultimately I caved and decided to take some acetaminophen to relieve some of my pain.  When I searched "post-IUI cramping" on the Internet, I found some testimonials from fellow TTCers saying it was completely normal and might actually an outcome of using fertility meds, ovulation and the catheter.  It was a completely different experience than last time, but reassuring to know that it wasn't totally out of the realm of IUI experiences.

IUI #2

S and I woke up at 5am today, determined to be the first ones at the clinic so we'd be able to be there without stressing about getting to work on time.  So we arrived forty minutes before the clinic opened and sat patiently in the waiting area until they opened their doors.  Shockingly, the clients who arrived after us actually honored our first-in-line status, so we were not only the first to sign in, but the first to go through billing.  After that, it was a waiting game of a little under an hour until the sperm was thawed and we were called into an examination room.

The IUI this time was performed by the same female doctor I've seen several times this cycle; one who ultimately, is very nice, but I've found her to be less than graceful when it comes to dealing with my body.  The same was true today; I tensed up as she inserted the speculum, and definitely felt cramping as the catheter went into my cervix.  But then, just like that, it was done.  S said he felt more connected to the process this time.  I, on the other hand, had a very difficult time emotionally.  I didn't make the same efforts to ground myself, to breathe, to be present in my body to receive the sperm.  I actually did my best to NOT be present, so much so that after the insemination, as I laid on the table for five minutes, S tried to help me come back. 

"Just close your eyes and breathe for one minute," he said gently.  I shook my head, and to my surprise, began to cry. 

"I can't," I said.  "I don't want to."  He looked at me, trying to understand my tears.  "I'm feeling a strong tension between wanting to be hopeful and not too hopeful," I said.  S gave me a hug. 

"That's why sometimes we just have to leave these things up to the universe," he said.  "You've done your job.  You've taken care of your body, you've been brave throughout this process, you've gone through the insemination.  Sometimes, like the Buddha said, our soul can't be in the physical world.  Sometimes we have to let go of control, and just allow what is meant to be to be.  The universe knows what you need.  It's okay." 

I hugged him back, and dried my tears, feeling eternally grateful to be the partner of such a supportive, understanding, and incredibly wise person.  Leaving it up to fate/the universe/destiny was an approach that definitely resonated with me in that moment. 

Thank you, S, for standing by my side and holding my hand during this complex, beautiful journey.