So I just bought an annual household membership to RESOLVE's Bay State chapter. For $55, it's not a bad deal. Ari and I are planning to go to their Annual Conference on November 7. Since we're in a state where actively pursing any kind of family building is just not an option right now, this is probably the best way to direct my restless energies: gathering info about DE, adoption, coping, and the like. Meeting other people face to face who understand, who get it.
In joining however, it's bittersweet. I'm glad I've got organizational support, but I'm sad that I need to belong to this group at all. Mentally, I'm probably in the best place I've been so far in this whole journey. I recognize and acknowledge my continued grieving, I allow myself the fears of failure, but I give myself time to hope and get excited at possibilities for the future. I still keep a running list of names in my head. I still cringe at Facebook announcements.
But I'm ok with all of this. I've accepted it. And now it's a matter of how do I fit this into my life- do I let it define me, or do I place it into the greater context of how I live my life on a daily basis?
In other news - the new dose of Levoxyl seems to be working quite well. I'll have b/w in a few weeks to see how it's doing. Energy is up, and for the first autumn in probably close to 10 years, I don't seem to be succumbing to SAD (seasonal affective disorder). Usually, I get it bad right around Yom Kippur, and this year, not so much.
Also, I promise to post about our fantabulous trip to Japan later this week, for Mel's Show & Tell :)
October 26, 2009
October 21, 2009
I haven't disappeared...
I'm just overseas! Ari and I are wrapping up two incredible weeks in Japan, staying with relatives of mine. We've been to Nara, Osaka, Tokyo, Kobe, Hiroshima, and tomorrow we're heading to Kyoto for two days and Jidaimatsuri, a huge costumed festival.
This trip has provided the perspective of a lifetime when it comes to IF:
1) I'm feeling a lot better about things. Japan has given me the distance to really look at things from a renewed perspective. Is the overall situation shitty? Yes. My outlook however is greatly improved.
2) I'm not as adverse to adoption as I once was, after seeing literally dozens of adorable Japanese babies everywhere. Would I be picky and only adopt from Japan? Yes, yes I would, and apparently it's complicated like any adoption process, but apparently not that difficult.
3) Allowing myself to grieve, even while on vacation, is OK. Case in point: at the Kiyomizu Temple in Tokyo. Oft venerated by pregnant women and those trying to conceive, I was literally just overcome with hope and wanting. And you know what? That's totally OK.
I'm thinking of going to the RESOLVE Bay State Conference on November 7 - any fellow Massachusetteans out there want to join me and meet up?
October 1, 2009
You can't wave a magic wand
...and make it all okay overnight. Or in an hour, for that matter. I had a second session with my IF counselor (Dr. S) last night, and while I certainly feel better, I don't necessarily have all the answers. If anything, I'm left with more questions and pathways for dialogue with my husband.
I find myself in a position where only one of us can be truly happy right now. If we pursued donor IVF right now, we would do so at the sacrifice of Ari's readiness. If we wait and stick with our timeline (May of 2011), then we sacrifice some of my emotional stamina in the process. And unfortunately, there is no middle ground, no 50-50 compromise that satisfies both our needs and desires simultaneously. And seeing as how Ari is starting his own company in a matter of weeks, it would probably be pretty silly to blow our savings on IVF right now.
But the yearning - I like the way my counselor described it last night- the yearning is so constant. And she articulated a feeling I've had for months at this point: I see pregnancy and childbirth not so much as a necessity, or a measure of "keeping up with the Joneses." For me, these things are healing. I see them as rights to a fundamental wrong. I see a big round belly not as a competitive commodity, like another engagement ring or a wedding dress - rather, I see it as the bandage, the salve on a deep wound.
If I knew, for a fact, that in May of 2011 we'd go the IVF route and bam! it would work no problem, that 9 months from then I'd come home with a child to call our own, I think I'd be able to manage my feelings, this yearning a little bit better. I think my sense of urgency comes from the fact of NOT knowing this. Donor recruitment could take longer than expected. Blastocysts might not make it to Day 5. Emryos don't stick. I could miscarry because of my Hashi's. It is terrifying to think of all the ways this is simply not guaranteed. And when Ari gets so fixated on our timeline, it frustrates me b/c I see so many variables that could throw off the entire plan by not just a couple of months, but whole years.
For now, all I can do is manage my feelings as best as I can, and realize that yes, I am still grieving and that no it doesn't necessarily get any easier, but I have an amazing husband and a great support network of friends and family, and that perhaps, I should fill my time a little more. Dive into work a bit more. Get even more excited about our 2-week trip to Japan next week. Maybe finish that California scrapbook I started months ago. Dr. S even suggested that I should start looking around at donors or clinics. It's not like I'm setting something in stone, just researching. Getting a feel for the eventual process that we'll both engage in.
And part of me is like, hm good idea! And another part of me sees that as giving up hope, like I'm admitting defeat. Dr. S said the grieving doesn't even really kick in that hard until couples pick a donor, b/c the woman feels as though she's selecting her "replacement." I think of it like a Polaroid picture fading out - the image of a child that's half me, half Ari - fading away. And I'm just not at a place to let go of that image. All the books and advice out there says to write a letter to the child that will never be, and I'm just not at a place to do that yet. Like I said, I feel like it's giving up; I've been a fighter all my life and this is no different.
Dr. S pointed out something interesting, that kind of took me by surprise. If Ari called my bluff right now, and said, "Yes! Let's do it. Let's go ahead with everything, right now" ...would I do it? I was taken aback by this, and honestly I don't know. I think I might hem and haw for a little bit, wrestling all of the uncomfortable emotions that come with committing to a process like this, but I'd dive in. Well, that's what I tell myself. I really don't know how I'd react to that kind of calling out.
So for now, I get sad, and I let myself sit with the sadness. Pull up the iPod, put on a little Michael Giacchino LOST or UP soundtracks, maybe some Radiohead (True Love Waits and Videotape get me every time), or even a little classical. Sometimes I get very hopeful and think about the future 10 years from now, and I savor that optimism. Sometimes I get really scared, and I face those fears for as long as I can stand it at the moment: maybe a few minutes, maybe a few seconds.
I am so blessed to have a husband who gets my need for all of these emotions, and who will cry with me, smile and laugh with me, and hold me when I get scared.
I just take it all a day at a time, b/c really, I can't do any more than that right now.
I find myself in a position where only one of us can be truly happy right now. If we pursued donor IVF right now, we would do so at the sacrifice of Ari's readiness. If we wait and stick with our timeline (May of 2011), then we sacrifice some of my emotional stamina in the process. And unfortunately, there is no middle ground, no 50-50 compromise that satisfies both our needs and desires simultaneously. And seeing as how Ari is starting his own company in a matter of weeks, it would probably be pretty silly to blow our savings on IVF right now.
But the yearning - I like the way my counselor described it last night- the yearning is so constant. And she articulated a feeling I've had for months at this point: I see pregnancy and childbirth not so much as a necessity, or a measure of "keeping up with the Joneses." For me, these things are healing. I see them as rights to a fundamental wrong. I see a big round belly not as a competitive commodity, like another engagement ring or a wedding dress - rather, I see it as the bandage, the salve on a deep wound.
If I knew, for a fact, that in May of 2011 we'd go the IVF route and bam! it would work no problem, that 9 months from then I'd come home with a child to call our own, I think I'd be able to manage my feelings, this yearning a little bit better. I think my sense of urgency comes from the fact of NOT knowing this. Donor recruitment could take longer than expected. Blastocysts might not make it to Day 5. Emryos don't stick. I could miscarry because of my Hashi's. It is terrifying to think of all the ways this is simply not guaranteed. And when Ari gets so fixated on our timeline, it frustrates me b/c I see so many variables that could throw off the entire plan by not just a couple of months, but whole years.
For now, all I can do is manage my feelings as best as I can, and realize that yes, I am still grieving and that no it doesn't necessarily get any easier, but I have an amazing husband and a great support network of friends and family, and that perhaps, I should fill my time a little more. Dive into work a bit more. Get even more excited about our 2-week trip to Japan next week. Maybe finish that California scrapbook I started months ago. Dr. S even suggested that I should start looking around at donors or clinics. It's not like I'm setting something in stone, just researching. Getting a feel for the eventual process that we'll both engage in.
And part of me is like, hm good idea! And another part of me sees that as giving up hope, like I'm admitting defeat. Dr. S said the grieving doesn't even really kick in that hard until couples pick a donor, b/c the woman feels as though she's selecting her "replacement." I think of it like a Polaroid picture fading out - the image of a child that's half me, half Ari - fading away. And I'm just not at a place to let go of that image. All the books and advice out there says to write a letter to the child that will never be, and I'm just not at a place to do that yet. Like I said, I feel like it's giving up; I've been a fighter all my life and this is no different.
Dr. S pointed out something interesting, that kind of took me by surprise. If Ari called my bluff right now, and said, "Yes! Let's do it. Let's go ahead with everything, right now" ...would I do it? I was taken aback by this, and honestly I don't know. I think I might hem and haw for a little bit, wrestling all of the uncomfortable emotions that come with committing to a process like this, but I'd dive in. Well, that's what I tell myself. I really don't know how I'd react to that kind of calling out.
So for now, I get sad, and I let myself sit with the sadness. Pull up the iPod, put on a little Michael Giacchino LOST or UP soundtracks, maybe some Radiohead (True Love Waits and Videotape get me every time), or even a little classical. Sometimes I get very hopeful and think about the future 10 years from now, and I savor that optimism. Sometimes I get really scared, and I face those fears for as long as I can stand it at the moment: maybe a few minutes, maybe a few seconds.
I am so blessed to have a husband who gets my need for all of these emotions, and who will cry with me, smile and laugh with me, and hold me when I get scared.
I just take it all a day at a time, b/c really, I can't do any more than that right now.
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