Chapter 3 talks about the losses of infertility, describing how these losses compound and affect your sense of self. It even cites this as the reason we may inexplicably fall apart at a minor reminder of our inability to conceive. Wow - that certainly sounds right after experiencing the Sunday School Incident.
The two losses that I identified with most were the loss of being in control (big shocker there) and the loss of feeling competent. The control thing is no surprise - I've been trying to deal with that since the beginning. The concept of the loss of feeling competent was a new one for me. "The inability to have a child makes otherwise very capable people feel inept at everything." I have been feeling worse and worse about my job. I still love it, but I don't feel as confident in my abilities. Lately, I haven't felt like I'm doing a very good job. The thought that this feeling might be related to my infertility was huge for me. And important to recognize.
I immediately discounted one of the losses they talk about - the loss of experiencing pregnancy and birth. I've always been slightly terrified of that part of becoming a parent, actually. But once I actually gave it some thought, they had a point. I always thought pregnant women looked so beautiful and healthy. Until we had problems getting pregnant, I'd look at them and smile. Now I just try not to look at them at all. I don't want to see how happy they are. So, maybe I do have a bit of an issue with that loss.
Anyway, add up all these little losses and you come to the big one - the loss of your sense of self. The authors write, "When you take on the identity of an infertility patient, you are forced to define yourself differently. You no longer feel that you can rely on yourself; you have lost not only self-esteem, but also the sense of your own competence." They say that the first step in healing is acknowledging these losses. So, we're on the right track by blogging about it!
Chapter 4 focuses more on feeling stuck - the feeling that you aren't yet an adult since you aren't a parent. This is likely more of an issue for people whose families include lots of children. I'm not in that situation, so there isn't that constant reminder at holidays. However, becoming a parent feels like a milestone to adulthood - like graduating from high school, moving into your own place, etc. But it's a milestone I haven't yet achieved. The authors write, "If you want to become a parent, infertility interrupts your sense of completion and accomplishment, no matter what else you have done."
Having children would also enable me to have a different and new relationship with my parents. I feel like I'm missing out on sharing that with them. And (although they have assured me to the contrary), I can't help but feel that I am letting them down by not being able to make them grandparents.
One analogy that I really like in this chapter is comparing the frustration of infertility to the frustration of a toddler. I remember my sister saying "I can do it mySELF!" when we were little. Oh, how I feel that way now. Again, for me it's the loss of control. I'm so used to being able to "do it myself" in every other area of my life.
This chapter is also the first time the authors talk about dealing with the idea of never having a biological child. They stress the importance of defining yourself by things other than infertility. They suggest thinking about other ways you will contribute to the world (calling it "giving to the future"). For me, I think it's volunteering and my work. They discuss the importance of continuing to do these activities while undergoing fertility treatments and how that can help regain your sense of self. I've been cutting back on my volunteer work, worrying that it was too much, thinking that I need to focus on THE CYCLE. Maybe just the opposite is true. And realizing that my feelings about incompetence might be related to infertility, rather than my career will likely help me to regain confidence in that area as well. I feel like these 2 chapters have helped to get me steered in the right direction. Let's see where it takes us.
Follow the link for another blogger's discussion of these chapters.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Friday, February 8, 2008
Good things
Today has been a good day filled with good things.
For the first time in I can't remember how long, the sun is actually shining on my birthday! This morning, I woke up and heard birds chirping outside my window. What a beautiful sound when it's usually so dreary and gray without any hint of life.
When I went to take Uno for a walk, I noticed that it was sleeting a little. By the time I got all bundled up and we ventured outside, it had stopped! I'd like to think it was all for little old me! ;-) I've gotten lots of cards, phone calls and singing voice mails from family and friends wishing me well. Good things.
I had my thryoid tested again yesterday, and got the call from my doctor today. My TSH is 1.36 (which is good). Another good thing in my good day!
Tonight, I am going to Wegman's to get something yummy to make myself for dinner and I might even splurge a little and get one of their mini-desserts as well. Mmmmm...
In other news, I have an appointment to see a therapist on Monday. Apparently, some of my previous blog entries had some of my family hitting the big red button. Today is really the first day in awhile that I have felt so good, so it's probably not a bad thing. I'm always a big proponent of therapy, as it has helped me a lot in the past, so it certainly can't hurt. I'll even count this as another good thing!
Looks like good things all around today.
Edited to add:
How could I forget?! Today is the first day I have been able to wear my contacts since starting the Restasis! It's funny - everyone at work has been telling me how great I look today, asking if I got my hair cut, etc. HA - nope - just no glasses. I'm excited for kickboxing tomorrow when I don't have to worry about my glasses sliding off my nose.
For the first time in I can't remember how long, the sun is actually shining on my birthday! This morning, I woke up and heard birds chirping outside my window. What a beautiful sound when it's usually so dreary and gray without any hint of life.
When I went to take Uno for a walk, I noticed that it was sleeting a little. By the time I got all bundled up and we ventured outside, it had stopped! I'd like to think it was all for little old me! ;-) I've gotten lots of cards, phone calls and singing voice mails from family and friends wishing me well. Good things.
I had my thryoid tested again yesterday, and got the call from my doctor today. My TSH is 1.36 (which is good). Another good thing in my good day!
Tonight, I am going to Wegman's to get something yummy to make myself for dinner and I might even splurge a little and get one of their mini-desserts as well. Mmmmm...
In other news, I have an appointment to see a therapist on Monday. Apparently, some of my previous blog entries had some of my family hitting the big red button. Today is really the first day in awhile that I have felt so good, so it's probably not a bad thing. I'm always a big proponent of therapy, as it has helped me a lot in the past, so it certainly can't hurt. I'll even count this as another good thing!
Looks like good things all around today.
Edited to add:
How could I forget?! Today is the first day I have been able to wear my contacts since starting the Restasis! It's funny - everyone at work has been telling me how great I look today, asking if I got my hair cut, etc. HA - nope - just no glasses. I'm excited for kickboxing tomorrow when I don't have to worry about my glasses sliding off my nose.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
My Reproductive Story
Chapter 2 of Unsung Lullabies talks about acknowledging, and therefore understanding your "reproductive story". A reproductive story is a series of narratives, silent videos and imagined snapshots of what life would be like. It is built from an early age from interactions with and observations of your parents and various cultural factors. If things go as planned, you probably would never even know you had one. It's unconscious. This is probably one reason that infertility feels like such a loss. It is a loss of what you thought your future would be - without even realizing it. The authors note that your reproductive story is part of the underpinning of your adult identity. When that gets shifted, it feels like the rug is being pulled out from under you - like you don't know who you are anymore.
This is my story...
I was a girly-girl, and a nerd. I loved dolls, stuffed animals and books when I was little. I loved learning. I didn't like sports or anything I wasn't good at. (I'm still not thrilled about things I'm not good at...although, I guess I'm a little more persistent now or I would have given up on becoming a parent a long time ago).
My parents split-up when I was around 5. I can't say if that changed who I was, or if I would have been this way anyway being the first-born. I was the helper. I always wanted to help my mom do things like vacuum the house. I wanted to be useful to people. I wanted to be liked. I still do, although that is becoming less important the older I get. My grandmother called me the people-pleaser. I was the harmonizer. I wanted everyone around me to be happy. That was what would make ME happy. This quote from the book really got me - "If the cultural expectation is that women should raise and nurture children, how does our society's prevailing ideology affect a woman when she discovers that she can't get pregnant? How will others perceive her?" That's pretty scary for a people-pleaser.
I remember playing school with Ashley. I was always the teacher, and she was always my eager and willing student. I taught the girl long-division when she was something like 5 or 6 years old. You might think that sounds torturous, but she loved it. We took care of each other. That is part of our close bond now. Now I can see that I was practicing being a mom.
I did think about what kind of parent I would be. I remember in high school keeping a list of injustices that I would never inflict on my child. I SO wish I still had that list. I'd love to share it with my mom now and get a good laugh. I'm sure it had things like "I will never be insensitive to the needs of my child to talk on the phone as long as she likes". I also had a life timeline in high school with my BFF, Minda. We were going to go to college together, be roommates, and have matching Volkswagen Bugs with paint handprints all over them. We were going to be married by 22, have kids by 24 and live next door to each other. That plan fell apart with college, but the point is that I did think about it - even if I wasn't exactly realistic.
My reproductive story continued as I got older. When I was single, I never bought a condo or anything because I was going to get married and have a family - so I was holding out for a house with space for little ones. When I met Michael, one of the things that drew me to him was what a great father he would make. When I switched careers from consulting to local government, I thought about it being more family-friendly.
So - thus begins the process of trying to rewrite a story that began when I was very little. The authors note that infertility, like other traumas, is marked by the feeling of being trapped. My life isn't going as planned and there is nothing I can do to change that. The only thing I can do is try to understand how that plan got written and what it means for the broader context of my life. The chapter ends (appropriately) with this:
"Try to remember that it is a work in progress." As am I.
Here's the link to the next blogger's discussion of this Chapter.
This is my story...
I was a girly-girl, and a nerd. I loved dolls, stuffed animals and books when I was little. I loved learning. I didn't like sports or anything I wasn't good at. (I'm still not thrilled about things I'm not good at...although, I guess I'm a little more persistent now or I would have given up on becoming a parent a long time ago).
My parents split-up when I was around 5. I can't say if that changed who I was, or if I would have been this way anyway being the first-born. I was the helper. I always wanted to help my mom do things like vacuum the house. I wanted to be useful to people. I wanted to be liked. I still do, although that is becoming less important the older I get. My grandmother called me the people-pleaser. I was the harmonizer. I wanted everyone around me to be happy. That was what would make ME happy. This quote from the book really got me - "If the cultural expectation is that women should raise and nurture children, how does our society's prevailing ideology affect a woman when she discovers that she can't get pregnant? How will others perceive her?" That's pretty scary for a people-pleaser.
I remember playing school with Ashley. I was always the teacher, and she was always my eager and willing student. I taught the girl long-division when she was something like 5 or 6 years old. You might think that sounds torturous, but she loved it. We took care of each other. That is part of our close bond now. Now I can see that I was practicing being a mom.
I did think about what kind of parent I would be. I remember in high school keeping a list of injustices that I would never inflict on my child. I SO wish I still had that list. I'd love to share it with my mom now and get a good laugh. I'm sure it had things like "I will never be insensitive to the needs of my child to talk on the phone as long as she likes". I also had a life timeline in high school with my BFF, Minda. We were going to go to college together, be roommates, and have matching Volkswagen Bugs with paint handprints all over them. We were going to be married by 22, have kids by 24 and live next door to each other. That plan fell apart with college, but the point is that I did think about it - even if I wasn't exactly realistic.
My reproductive story continued as I got older. When I was single, I never bought a condo or anything because I was going to get married and have a family - so I was holding out for a house with space for little ones. When I met Michael, one of the things that drew me to him was what a great father he would make. When I switched careers from consulting to local government, I thought about it being more family-friendly.
So - thus begins the process of trying to rewrite a story that began when I was very little. The authors note that infertility, like other traumas, is marked by the feeling of being trapped. My life isn't going as planned and there is nothing I can do to change that. The only thing I can do is try to understand how that plan got written and what it means for the broader context of my life. The chapter ends (appropriately) with this:
"Try to remember that it is a work in progress." As am I.
Here's the link to the next blogger's discussion of this Chapter.
Monday, February 4, 2008
And...Exit Stage Right
I'm down in Alabama visiting Michael. I should have posted before I left, as I was pretty much giddy with anticipation. It's been a really good visit - with the exception of 2 things - I'm now sick (just a cold - nothing major), and the story I'm about to tell you.
Part of it has to do with the way I am. For those of you who don't know me in real life, I begin to get sad (and therefore snippy and rather unpleasant) as the end of a vacation nears. I begin to have that countdown clock in my head - only 2 more days left - which is dumb. I don't know why I can't fully enjoy something without anticipating the sadness that comes at the end. It comes soon enough - I don't know why I move the timetable up.
Okay - so that should set the stage for my state of mind Sunday (when I'm scheduled to leave on Monday). The candidate Michael is working for and his wife kindly invited us to go to church with them. We went, it was a lovely service - and then it was time for Sunday school.
Now, Michael loves Sunday school. That was his group of friends when he lived here. This church is ginormous, so there are about 600 Sunday school classes. The class he used to go to was something like "young singles", but he figures none of his friends go to that one anymore since we're no longer either of those terms. We didn't really know where to go, so the candidate invites us to his class and introduces us around. That's where the trouble began. It means something to folks down here to be FROM here. Michael doesn't want it to seem like his candidate brought in a hired gun from Washington. He could not figure out how to explain that he was originally from Alabama, lived in DC with his wife, and was temporarily back running the campaign. He would say things like, "I live here now. My wife is visiting from DC." People looked very confused. And the more it happened, the more upset I got.
On a positive side note, the people were wonderful. The candidate stepped in and saved him multiple times, explaining that I was loaning them Michael for the election. For the first time in the 5 or 6 years I've been coming down here, someone asked me what I do. Seems small - but it was huge to me.
So, once the social time was over and it was time to begin the lesson, we all settle into our chairs. I'd say there were about 20-25 people there. They introduce all the new people to the group, have a few announcements and begin the lesson.
"Today, we are going to continue on our topic of .... PARENTING."
Tears begin to flow.
Allison - Exit Stage Right.
And I don't mean a graceful exit. No - I mean nearly jumping over Michael with tears streaming down my face to try to get out of there as soon as possible.
I was sad, and on top of being sad, I was mad at Michael, and on top of that I was completely mortified at what I had just done. I mean, the simple word "parenting" sent me into a tailspin? Come on. I'm above that. Heck, I can sit through an entire conversation with friends about raising their kids with no problem! And for all this to happen in front of his boss. Oy. What would they think of him if his wife was such a mess?
I don't know why I didn't see it coming. They have a Sunday school class for left-handers (I'm actually only mildly exaggerating here), why wouldn't there be one for PARENTS? Duh.
All is fine now. Michael apologized - both to me and then for me (to the candidate and his wife). When he came out and was looking for me - after my dead sprint to a bathroom - he met a man in the hall. Turns out, he told Michael that he and his wife struggled with IF for 6 years and went through many rounds of IVF. I didn't ask what the result was - I didn't really want to know. It was just nice to know that we weren't alone. Especially in a fertile place like church. I guess I keep needing that reassurance.
So that is my tale of mortification for the day. Hopefully, that will be my last tale of embarrassment for awhile. Knowing me, probably not.
Part of it has to do with the way I am. For those of you who don't know me in real life, I begin to get sad (and therefore snippy and rather unpleasant) as the end of a vacation nears. I begin to have that countdown clock in my head - only 2 more days left - which is dumb. I don't know why I can't fully enjoy something without anticipating the sadness that comes at the end. It comes soon enough - I don't know why I move the timetable up.
Okay - so that should set the stage for my state of mind Sunday (when I'm scheduled to leave on Monday). The candidate Michael is working for and his wife kindly invited us to go to church with them. We went, it was a lovely service - and then it was time for Sunday school.
Now, Michael loves Sunday school. That was his group of friends when he lived here. This church is ginormous, so there are about 600 Sunday school classes. The class he used to go to was something like "young singles", but he figures none of his friends go to that one anymore since we're no longer either of those terms. We didn't really know where to go, so the candidate invites us to his class and introduces us around. That's where the trouble began. It means something to folks down here to be FROM here. Michael doesn't want it to seem like his candidate brought in a hired gun from Washington. He could not figure out how to explain that he was originally from Alabama, lived in DC with his wife, and was temporarily back running the campaign. He would say things like, "I live here now. My wife is visiting from DC." People looked very confused. And the more it happened, the more upset I got.
On a positive side note, the people were wonderful. The candidate stepped in and saved him multiple times, explaining that I was loaning them Michael for the election. For the first time in the 5 or 6 years I've been coming down here, someone asked me what I do. Seems small - but it was huge to me.
So, once the social time was over and it was time to begin the lesson, we all settle into our chairs. I'd say there were about 20-25 people there. They introduce all the new people to the group, have a few announcements and begin the lesson.
"Today, we are going to continue on our topic of .... PARENTING."
Tears begin to flow.
Allison - Exit Stage Right.
And I don't mean a graceful exit. No - I mean nearly jumping over Michael with tears streaming down my face to try to get out of there as soon as possible.
I was sad, and on top of being sad, I was mad at Michael, and on top of that I was completely mortified at what I had just done. I mean, the simple word "parenting" sent me into a tailspin? Come on. I'm above that. Heck, I can sit through an entire conversation with friends about raising their kids with no problem! And for all this to happen in front of his boss. Oy. What would they think of him if his wife was such a mess?
I don't know why I didn't see it coming. They have a Sunday school class for left-handers (I'm actually only mildly exaggerating here), why wouldn't there be one for PARENTS? Duh.
All is fine now. Michael apologized - both to me and then for me (to the candidate and his wife). When he came out and was looking for me - after my dead sprint to a bathroom - he met a man in the hall. Turns out, he told Michael that he and his wife struggled with IF for 6 years and went through many rounds of IVF. I didn't ask what the result was - I didn't really want to know. It was just nice to know that we weren't alone. Especially in a fertile place like church. I guess I keep needing that reassurance.
So that is my tale of mortification for the day. Hopefully, that will be my last tale of embarrassment for awhile. Knowing me, probably not.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
DC Stirrup Queens
So I was brave. I drove up to Kensington, MD to someone's house I didn't know. To meet people I didn't know. I came so close to bailing, but I'd already said I would go. And I wanted to go. I just didn't want the awkwardness of being the dorky new girl who didn't know anybody. Visions of the high school cafeteria had entered my mind...
The DC Stirrup Queens were awesome. I should have known they would be! Any group that actually has a plastic uterus has GOT to be fun, right? I swear - it was on the stoop of the house. This is how I knew I was in the right place. I think one of the coolest things is that everyone is in different points in their IF journeys - pregnant, some kids - but still IF, mid-IVF or IUI cycles, looking into adoption, or on a break from it all (like me). They are all wonderful ladies who have definitely kept their sense of humor - no doubt about that.
It was just a good time. Thank you to Lindsay for introducing me to the group after I stumbled upon your blog and noticed there was a DC get-together. Hopefully I'll see all of you DC ladies at future events! Thanks for making me feel so welcome.
The DC Stirrup Queens were awesome. I should have known they would be! Any group that actually has a plastic uterus has GOT to be fun, right? I swear - it was on the stoop of the house. This is how I knew I was in the right place. I think one of the coolest things is that everyone is in different points in their IF journeys - pregnant, some kids - but still IF, mid-IVF or IUI cycles, looking into adoption, or on a break from it all (like me). They are all wonderful ladies who have definitely kept their sense of humor - no doubt about that.
It was just a good time. Thank you to Lindsay for introducing me to the group after I stumbled upon your blog and noticed there was a DC get-together. Hopefully I'll see all of you DC ladies at future events! Thanks for making me feel so welcome.
Friday, January 25, 2008
I Am Not Alone
In less than one week, I get to see Michael. Not that I'm excited or anything. Nah...
The other night, I got to see one of my oldest and dearest friends, Dave. You know how there are those people who you never see and rarely talk to, yet when you do see them, you're able to talk like no time has passed? Dave is one of those friends. Good stuff. (Thanks, Dave!)
Okay - now on to Unsung Lullabies. One thing that impresses me about this book is that the authors have been there. They've travelled this road. (And unlike many people - they didn't suffer infertility amnesia). As I read, I often say - "Exactly!" out loud. They know the crazy emotions - they understand being happy for friends who are pregnant, while still feeling those nasty jealousy pangs - and then feeling ashamed of that jealousy. They understand the irrational fear that you have let your spouse down in some way because you couldn't have a baby. Reading this book helps me to not feel so alone. I appreciate them telling a bit about their stories. I do identify with their fears about being a parent, while never worrying that I may have trouble becoming a parent. However, unlike the authors, I never dreamed of being a mom. It was just a given. It was the continuation of life. My life. Chapter 1 is titled "This Isn't How It Was Supposed To Be". Amen to that, sister. They talk about the concept of reproductive trauma - and the cumulative effect of failed cycle after failed cycle on a person's psyche. I'm in Cycle 42, and I feel every single one of those failures. Why do I even count anymore?
Probably because of that little word "hope". Sometimes I am greatful for it and other days I wish I could just give up so that I didn't have to keep experiencing these losses.
Tonight, I'm off to a gathering of women in the DC area struggling with IF as well. Some of them have kids now, others are in my shoes. I've never met any of them, and just recently found them on-line - however, I think this is yet something else that might help me to not feel so alone. For those of you who know me - you know I'm not the big mingler. I'm the girl who goes to a party and winds up talking all night to the people I showed up with. Not exactly adventurous. Guess I'm feeling bold today!
Click here to link to the next blogger's review of this section of Unsung Lullabies.
The other night, I got to see one of my oldest and dearest friends, Dave. You know how there are those people who you never see and rarely talk to, yet when you do see them, you're able to talk like no time has passed? Dave is one of those friends. Good stuff. (Thanks, Dave!)
Okay - now on to Unsung Lullabies. One thing that impresses me about this book is that the authors have been there. They've travelled this road. (And unlike many people - they didn't suffer infertility amnesia). As I read, I often say - "Exactly!" out loud. They know the crazy emotions - they understand being happy for friends who are pregnant, while still feeling those nasty jealousy pangs - and then feeling ashamed of that jealousy. They understand the irrational fear that you have let your spouse down in some way because you couldn't have a baby. Reading this book helps me to not feel so alone. I appreciate them telling a bit about their stories. I do identify with their fears about being a parent, while never worrying that I may have trouble becoming a parent. However, unlike the authors, I never dreamed of being a mom. It was just a given. It was the continuation of life. My life. Chapter 1 is titled "This Isn't How It Was Supposed To Be". Amen to that, sister. They talk about the concept of reproductive trauma - and the cumulative effect of failed cycle after failed cycle on a person's psyche. I'm in Cycle 42, and I feel every single one of those failures. Why do I even count anymore?
Probably because of that little word "hope". Sometimes I am greatful for it and other days I wish I could just give up so that I didn't have to keep experiencing these losses.
Tonight, I'm off to a gathering of women in the DC area struggling with IF as well. Some of them have kids now, others are in my shoes. I've never met any of them, and just recently found them on-line - however, I think this is yet something else that might help me to not feel so alone. For those of you who know me - you know I'm not the big mingler. I'm the girl who goes to a party and winds up talking all night to the people I showed up with. Not exactly adventurous. Guess I'm feeling bold today!
Click here to link to the next blogger's review of this section of Unsung Lullabies.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Ever the Optimist
I truly used to think of myself a realist.
I now realize I just desperately WANT to be a realist. I have an addiction to optimism. I rationalize that everything will be okay because I THINK it will be okay. Or because I WANT it to be okay. Not exactly realistic, huh?
I realized my addiction when I was planning a trip to visit Michael. I looked at the potential dates to see where I would be in my cycle so that we'd see each other during the "window".
Ummmm... hello?
Did I not HEAR the doctor when he said we had a 1% chance of conceiving on our own? And that was a full year ago, before the failed IUI's and IVF. (Although, I guess our chances can't exactly get lower than 1%.) Yet something in my little ever-the-optimist mind says that there's still a chance, no matter how slight. Now that is just plain crazy.
I still talk about "when" we have a baby, not "if". However, "if" is probably more appropriate at this juncture. It's like I'm not ready to give up the dream. I haven't been ready to move on to consider adoption seriously. Not because I wouldn't want to adopt, but because I'm not ready to give up on the thought of experiencing pregnancy - of having a child grow within me, of seeing a child with Michael's eyes, of giving our families a link in our genetic history.
I mentioned a book that my Aunt Margie gave me awhile back called Unsung Lullabies. I've read several chapters and really like the book - but it is somewhat painful to read. It's like going to the gym - you know it's good / healthy for you, but it can be painful. So, several fellow bloggers and I are reading it together. I'll be posting about it here and including links to other blogs where they are talking about it as well. I am hoping that reading the book helps me to get a little more realistic about our situation and to be able to grieve and move on. Whatever that might mean.
Stay tuned!
P.S. I added a link to a great NY Times article over on the left. I found it on another blog and thought some of you might like to read it. While I haven't bought anything baby-related like the author, I do have a tube of cocoa butter for stretch marks that I bought in 2005. What can I say - I was optimistic!
I now realize I just desperately WANT to be a realist. I have an addiction to optimism. I rationalize that everything will be okay because I THINK it will be okay. Or because I WANT it to be okay. Not exactly realistic, huh?
I realized my addiction when I was planning a trip to visit Michael. I looked at the potential dates to see where I would be in my cycle so that we'd see each other during the "window".
Ummmm... hello?
Did I not HEAR the doctor when he said we had a 1% chance of conceiving on our own? And that was a full year ago, before the failed IUI's and IVF. (Although, I guess our chances can't exactly get lower than 1%.) Yet something in my little ever-the-optimist mind says that there's still a chance, no matter how slight. Now that is just plain crazy.
I still talk about "when" we have a baby, not "if". However, "if" is probably more appropriate at this juncture. It's like I'm not ready to give up the dream. I haven't been ready to move on to consider adoption seriously. Not because I wouldn't want to adopt, but because I'm not ready to give up on the thought of experiencing pregnancy - of having a child grow within me, of seeing a child with Michael's eyes, of giving our families a link in our genetic history.
I mentioned a book that my Aunt Margie gave me awhile back called Unsung Lullabies. I've read several chapters and really like the book - but it is somewhat painful to read. It's like going to the gym - you know it's good / healthy for you, but it can be painful. So, several fellow bloggers and I are reading it together. I'll be posting about it here and including links to other blogs where they are talking about it as well. I am hoping that reading the book helps me to get a little more realistic about our situation and to be able to grieve and move on. Whatever that might mean.
Stay tuned!
P.S. I added a link to a great NY Times article over on the left. I found it on another blog and thought some of you might like to read it. While I haven't bought anything baby-related like the author, I do have a tube of cocoa butter for stretch marks that I bought in 2005. What can I say - I was optimistic!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Perspective
It's been a week since Michael left. (Only somewhere around 43 to go.) We've been talking at least once a day, which helps. I'm still procrastinating going to bed, but it actually IS getting easier.
I was in a painful training class on Thursday. It wasn't that the subject was bad, it just wasn't AT ALL what I was expecting. I thought it was going to be how to sustain your organization in tough times, but it was about environmentalism. I know - slight disconnect there. I guess it was more about how to sustain the earth - which is our collective organization on a grand scale. Or something.
Anyway, while I was trapped in this training, I realized that since dealing with infertility, I was thinking about things differently. The trainer, who was a little militant, was talking about overpopulation and how people were having more children than ever. I thought, "Great - it really IS just me." (But that was only a fleeting thought.) The militant part came when she said that to be socially responsible, people should have less than 1.2 children. I had never thought of having children in terms of the environment. It's not that I particularly agree or disagree with her, but it was interesting to think about. It did make me think about society's expectations and whether they might shift based on the environmental movement. What would it look like to have a culture shift from an emphasis on having kids to NOT having them? Would that change my struggle? Would I be embarrassed that I was trying to have kids instead of feeling shame that I couldn't?
I knew this whole struggle with infertility had changed me, but I realized - probably for the first time (I'm a little slow) that the way I see the world has changed. I never would have thought that a training class on "sustainability" would have connected with infertility. Who'd have thunk it?
I was in a painful training class on Thursday. It wasn't that the subject was bad, it just wasn't AT ALL what I was expecting. I thought it was going to be how to sustain your organization in tough times, but it was about environmentalism. I know - slight disconnect there. I guess it was more about how to sustain the earth - which is our collective organization on a grand scale. Or something.
Anyway, while I was trapped in this training, I realized that since dealing with infertility, I was thinking about things differently. The trainer, who was a little militant, was talking about overpopulation and how people were having more children than ever. I thought, "Great - it really IS just me." (But that was only a fleeting thought.) The militant part came when she said that to be socially responsible, people should have less than 1.2 children. I had never thought of having children in terms of the environment. It's not that I particularly agree or disagree with her, but it was interesting to think about. It did make me think about society's expectations and whether they might shift based on the environmental movement. What would it look like to have a culture shift from an emphasis on having kids to NOT having them? Would that change my struggle? Would I be embarrassed that I was trying to have kids instead of feeling shame that I couldn't?
I knew this whole struggle with infertility had changed me, but I realized - probably for the first time (I'm a little slow) that the way I see the world has changed. I never would have thought that a training class on "sustainability" would have connected with infertility. Who'd have thunk it?
Monday, January 7, 2008
Gone Daddy Gone
My love is gone... That is the Cure song that keeps playing in my head. Lucky for me it's kind of an upbeat song!
Michael left at 6 AM on Saturday morning with nearly everything he owns loaded into the Murano and headed to Alabama until November. I was a wreck. Lucky for YOU, I didn't post then. ;-)
Before I go any further, I have to give a huge THANK YOU to all of you who either kept me busy (or tried to) or checked on me this weekend so I couldn't sit around feeling sorry for myself - Ashley, Tom, Connie, Abby, Susan, AT, Mom, Dad, Judy, and Mariahna. In my infinite wisdom & foresight, I also took a shift at the Domestic Violence Shelter on Sunday night, so that was a chunk of time I was occupied as well. All good things.
The bad times come for me when it's time for bed. That is when I feel truly alone. But I actually don't mind being alone. I mind not being with Michael. Does that make any sense? That is when I miss him the most. The last 2 nights, I have found myself being very "busy" when it's time for bed - cleaning, looking things up on the Internet, going through mail, you name it. I'm procrastinating so I don't have to go upstairs and get into bed without him. That's gotta end or I'm going to be exhausted.
The first morning he left, I walked into the closet and had to catch my breath. His entire side of the closet was nearly empty. I knew he took all of his clothes with him - I helped him load them in the car. But there was just something haunting about that empty closet. It felt like he left me. Like he moved out.
I know that time will make things easier. (Honestly, I don't know how those of you who are military wives do it. Major props to you.) I'm journaling (my Christmas gift from Michael was a nice new monogrammed journal), and that is really helping me not have verbal diarrhea on this blog. Well, not as much as I would otherwise. ;-)
Dad and I went to church on Sunday, and the sermon was oddly appropriate for the situation - stepping outside of your comfort zone to find your path in life and to find God. Then, the offering was for an orphanage in Kenya. Do you ever feel like someone is talking directly to YOU in a crowd? I like the new minister, so that is something I will definitely keep up.
Well, except for this coming weekend - I have a brunch with friends already on the calendar. Priorities.
Michael left at 6 AM on Saturday morning with nearly everything he owns loaded into the Murano and headed to Alabama until November. I was a wreck. Lucky for YOU, I didn't post then. ;-)
Before I go any further, I have to give a huge THANK YOU to all of you who either kept me busy (or tried to) or checked on me this weekend so I couldn't sit around feeling sorry for myself - Ashley, Tom, Connie, Abby, Susan, AT, Mom, Dad, Judy, and Mariahna. In my infinite wisdom & foresight, I also took a shift at the Domestic Violence Shelter on Sunday night, so that was a chunk of time I was occupied as well. All good things.
The bad times come for me when it's time for bed. That is when I feel truly alone. But I actually don't mind being alone. I mind not being with Michael. Does that make any sense? That is when I miss him the most. The last 2 nights, I have found myself being very "busy" when it's time for bed - cleaning, looking things up on the Internet, going through mail, you name it. I'm procrastinating so I don't have to go upstairs and get into bed without him. That's gotta end or I'm going to be exhausted.
The first morning he left, I walked into the closet and had to catch my breath. His entire side of the closet was nearly empty. I knew he took all of his clothes with him - I helped him load them in the car. But there was just something haunting about that empty closet. It felt like he left me. Like he moved out.
I know that time will make things easier. (Honestly, I don't know how those of you who are military wives do it. Major props to you.) I'm journaling (my Christmas gift from Michael was a nice new monogrammed journal), and that is really helping me not have verbal diarrhea on this blog. Well, not as much as I would otherwise. ;-)
Dad and I went to church on Sunday, and the sermon was oddly appropriate for the situation - stepping outside of your comfort zone to find your path in life and to find God. Then, the offering was for an orphanage in Kenya. Do you ever feel like someone is talking directly to YOU in a crowd? I like the new minister, so that is something I will definitely keep up.
Well, except for this coming weekend - I have a brunch with friends already on the calendar. Priorities.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Manic, much?
I tend to follow a pattern here - sad post, happy post, sad post... you get the idea. I think because I don't want this blog to be one extreme or the other - all doom and gloom or all Pollyanna Happyface.
So today I decided to post because I am neither in the depths of despair or floating in the clouds. I am just ... here. (Although, if you mention Michael's pending departure on Saturday, I might lose it.)
2008 isn't looking so bad for me - now that it's here. We actually had a very fun New Year's Eve involving Indian food and a Scrabble game (which I didn't even win and I STILL thought it was fun). Now that's saying something!
Anyway, I'm trying to think of positive things I'm going to do while Michael is gone. It's kind of like if I have a plan of things I want to do, I won't be so down. I am going to start going back to church. I think it's time God and I got to know one another again. (I've been a wee bit angry with him.)
I'm going to focus on being healthy. I'm not going to say I'm going to lose 10 lbs or anything like that - mainly because I really don't need something else to fail at to make me feel like crap. (The weight I lost before Thanksgiving has all come back. Grrrr....) So - I really do need to lose that 5-10 lbs (again). Hopefully, that will just come from being healthy. ;-) That's the plan anyway.
Speaking of healthy - I talked to the endocrinologist today and my thryoid panel came back normal. TSH was 1.5 for those keeping track. I can start IVF again anytime we want to, but I think I want one more stable TSH reading in February and then plan on doing IVF in March. I won't get my heart set on March, (see - I HAVE learned something this year) but it's nice to have a ballpark idea of the timing.
So - for now let's all wish Michael the best on his trip down south. Keep reminding me that it's only temporary. And let's all hope that I don't completely lose my mind (what's left of it) while he is gone!
(Okay - so how was that for a "happy medium post"?)
So today I decided to post because I am neither in the depths of despair or floating in the clouds. I am just ... here. (Although, if you mention Michael's pending departure on Saturday, I might lose it.)
2008 isn't looking so bad for me - now that it's here. We actually had a very fun New Year's Eve involving Indian food and a Scrabble game (which I didn't even win and I STILL thought it was fun). Now that's saying something!
Anyway, I'm trying to think of positive things I'm going to do while Michael is gone. It's kind of like if I have a plan of things I want to do, I won't be so down. I am going to start going back to church. I think it's time God and I got to know one another again. (I've been a wee bit angry with him.)
I'm going to focus on being healthy. I'm not going to say I'm going to lose 10 lbs or anything like that - mainly because I really don't need something else to fail at to make me feel like crap. (The weight I lost before Thanksgiving has all come back. Grrrr....) So - I really do need to lose that 5-10 lbs (again). Hopefully, that will just come from being healthy. ;-) That's the plan anyway.
Speaking of healthy - I talked to the endocrinologist today and my thryoid panel came back normal. TSH was 1.5 for those keeping track. I can start IVF again anytime we want to, but I think I want one more stable TSH reading in February and then plan on doing IVF in March. I won't get my heart set on March, (see - I HAVE learned something this year) but it's nice to have a ballpark idea of the timing.
So - for now let's all wish Michael the best on his trip down south. Keep reminding me that it's only temporary. And let's all hope that I don't completely lose my mind (what's left of it) while he is gone!
(Okay - so how was that for a "happy medium post"?)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)