You read that right: tonight marks Cycle Day 365... it's officially been a year since the start of my last period. I can't believe it's been a whole year already. CDs 1-4 were regular heavy flow and then... nothing. I thought for sure on CD15 I was ovulating - mittelschmerz and everything but alas, the end of January came and went... nothing. February... nothing. By mid-March I figured maybe I should have the doc take a look. Dr. E (aka, Dr. Skinny Bitch) assured me it was stress. Oh, and being overweight. Something about excess estrogen being stored in my fat cells. "But if you're really worried, go see Dr. G (my current RE) b/c I don't really see anything wrong. It's perfectly normal for periods not to return for several months following the cessation of birth control."
So I met with Dr. G and he ordered 7 vials of blood to be drawn. We both thought it was PCOS and a nasty hypothyroid problem. Turns out it was POF and Hashi's. March 18 of next year will be a year since my diagnosis. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Right now, I'm mostly buzzed, from 2 beers and a Snickers-tini from a bar downtown.
. . .
Tonight we celebrated Ari's 28th birthday. It's actually tomorrow (my lil Solstice baby) but he has a Mason's meeting and I have Red Tent Temple, so we braved the foot or so of snow downtown and went out for drinks and wings. A lot of people bailed, but understandably so - the snow and freezing temps nearly kept us at home.
We spent a night this weekend in Stockbridge, MA, at the Red Lion Inn. A picturesque little town, home of Norman Rockwell... it was a nice one-night getaway just to take us away from everything. We spent time visiting family friends of Ari's (they go to the Red Lion every Christmas) and they got us a room. We had a lovely dinner (I had the maple braised pork lion, Ari had the elk tenderloin), and enjoyed an evening of experimental jazz funk in the bar downstairs. (Surprisingly, the band was actually really neat.) We slept in the most comfortable bed ever, and managed to avoid even a single flake fall on the town of Stockbridge - a narrow strip of western MA managed to avoid this entire nor'easter. By the time we got home today, we didn't hit any snow falling and the roads were all cleared.
. . .
On the eve of the new moon, Rosh Chodesh, and more importantly, the Winter Solstice... I'm left contemplative.
Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts
December 20, 2009
December 7, 2009
Called me out.
So I'm behind a few days worth of posts, but it's been an interesting few days. Ari and I (again) had another long discussion (read: late-night argument) about this rock and a hard place location I'm in where I need to find a job that actually stimulates and fulfills me but has MA-written insurance and a decent enough salary and that if I want to transition to another job I basically need to do it yesterday because it doesn't make sense to start a new job in a year and then start IVF.
Whew, pardon the runon sentence.
This goes back to a lot of what I wrote about in my last post: stuff I need to have in place (ideally) to have kids. What really annoys me is that there are plenty of couples who end up with an oops! baby and somehow figure out how to make it work, but when you're dealing with IVF and thousands of dollars, suddenly all the t's are crossed and i's are dotted before you can get the ball rolling. Add to the mix that Ari simply isn't ready for parenthood yet and it gets... frustrating, to say the least. At the crux of the argument is that either a) I wait until he's ready and we've got our finances in order and thus, am kind of left in a state of miserable waiting or b) I rush Ari into something he's not ready for and thus he's left in a state of feeling cheated.
It's not exactly a win-win situation. And this is why last week, we were up until 2:30 in the morning, shouting, crying, demanding, bargaining, and venting. Like all good marital "discussions," it started out about one thing, but by the end, was a very different beast that brought up all the various challenges in our relationship. We had finally had enough, and Ari was exhausted and went to bed. I was still fuming, so I do what I always do when I need to get out of the house in the middle of the night: I wander around the 24-hour grocery and drug stores near us. I spent the time looking for things related to his Hanukkah gift so I could channel my energy in a more positive direction towards my husband. After I got home, I fell asleep on the couch.
Somehow I ended up back in our bed before I woke up, and we talked some more. We both had only a few hours of sleep under our belt, and Ari finally said, "If this is that important to you, then let's do it. Let's get the ball rolling and start actively looking for donors and getting everything started."
*record scratch*
I kind of mumbled "Awesome" or something to that effect and then he was out the door for a gig for his new business. At work, I could barely focus. All I could keep thinking about was "Holy shit... he really wants to start moving on this..." and that's when I realized that maybe I wasn't as 100% ready as I thought I was. My therapist had even asked me about this a few sessions back: "What would you do if Ari called you out and said he wanted to start things now?" I didn't have an answer for her then, but I sure had it right now.
After we both got home from work, we had a long conversation about all of this. What it comes down to is several factors: financially, we're just not there. He's definitely not ready, and I'm probably only about 75% ready. Insurance is a must. And basically, the entire process of selecting a donor and going through IVF in general is pretty fucking daunting, and it really intimidates the both of us. What I realized is that I've got some pretty serious issues of my own I need to work out that my various medical issues are not helping. I've got a lot of work to do for myself, and after admitting this to not just my husband, but to myself, I'm at a better place to move on emotionally.
In the end, if we're ever going to be parents we need to be partners in the process, not enemies. We reached a compromise: let's re-evaluate things in a few months once his business gets off the ground. Let's work on getting all the other ducks in a row, particularly my thyroid and weight. And while we wait, let's start looking at donor profiles- not make any decisions, but get a sense of what we're looking for, what's important to us in a donor. Just dip our toes into the process rather than diving in headfirst.
Instead of standing back-to-back, looking in different directions with different agendas, let's stand side by side, holding hands, and looking at the entire expanse of the horizon. I really just need to remember the quote we had written in our wedding programs:
Whew, pardon the runon sentence.
This goes back to a lot of what I wrote about in my last post: stuff I need to have in place (ideally) to have kids. What really annoys me is that there are plenty of couples who end up with an oops! baby and somehow figure out how to make it work, but when you're dealing with IVF and thousands of dollars, suddenly all the t's are crossed and i's are dotted before you can get the ball rolling. Add to the mix that Ari simply isn't ready for parenthood yet and it gets... frustrating, to say the least. At the crux of the argument is that either a) I wait until he's ready and we've got our finances in order and thus, am kind of left in a state of miserable waiting or b) I rush Ari into something he's not ready for and thus he's left in a state of feeling cheated.
It's not exactly a win-win situation. And this is why last week, we were up until 2:30 in the morning, shouting, crying, demanding, bargaining, and venting. Like all good marital "discussions," it started out about one thing, but by the end, was a very different beast that brought up all the various challenges in our relationship. We had finally had enough, and Ari was exhausted and went to bed. I was still fuming, so I do what I always do when I need to get out of the house in the middle of the night: I wander around the 24-hour grocery and drug stores near us. I spent the time looking for things related to his Hanukkah gift so I could channel my energy in a more positive direction towards my husband. After I got home, I fell asleep on the couch.
Somehow I ended up back in our bed before I woke up, and we talked some more. We both had only a few hours of sleep under our belt, and Ari finally said, "If this is that important to you, then let's do it. Let's get the ball rolling and start actively looking for donors and getting everything started."
*record scratch*
I kind of mumbled "Awesome" or something to that effect and then he was out the door for a gig for his new business. At work, I could barely focus. All I could keep thinking about was "Holy shit... he really wants to start moving on this..." and that's when I realized that maybe I wasn't as 100% ready as I thought I was. My therapist had even asked me about this a few sessions back: "What would you do if Ari called you out and said he wanted to start things now?" I didn't have an answer for her then, but I sure had it right now.
After we both got home from work, we had a long conversation about all of this. What it comes down to is several factors: financially, we're just not there. He's definitely not ready, and I'm probably only about 75% ready. Insurance is a must. And basically, the entire process of selecting a donor and going through IVF in general is pretty fucking daunting, and it really intimidates the both of us. What I realized is that I've got some pretty serious issues of my own I need to work out that my various medical issues are not helping. I've got a lot of work to do for myself, and after admitting this to not just my husband, but to myself, I'm at a better place to move on emotionally.
In the end, if we're ever going to be parents we need to be partners in the process, not enemies. We reached a compromise: let's re-evaluate things in a few months once his business gets off the ground. Let's work on getting all the other ducks in a row, particularly my thyroid and weight. And while we wait, let's start looking at donor profiles- not make any decisions, but get a sense of what we're looking for, what's important to us in a donor. Just dip our toes into the process rather than diving in headfirst.
Instead of standing back-to-back, looking in different directions with different agendas, let's stand side by side, holding hands, and looking at the entire expanse of the horizon. I really just need to remember the quote we had written in our wedding programs:
"Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction." ~ Antoine de Saint Exupéry
December 4, 2009
Makin' a list and checking it twice.
So, if we want to get this "having a baby" party started, I'll need to have a few things in order. It is astounding everything we need to consider in the grand scope of things. And when I look back on it? I want to throttle my high school health teacher for spreading this notion that getting pregnant consists of merely glancing at a member of the opposite sex, let alone actual contact. In a way, I'm thankful I was diagnosed before we started trying, b/c I've probably only spent about $75 in my lifetime on pg tests, back when I missed a pill here or there or my period was randomly late. Man, if only I knew!
DE/IVF affords us the rare opportunity to time things in a way that natural conception can't. And this might not be the best thing for us, since we (like to) get a little caught up in the planning stages of things. (Case in point- the nearly 2 years we had to plan our wedding. We had everything planned to the smallest detail.)
So here's what we need to have sorted out before we can begin this journey:
..right?
DE/IVF affords us the rare opportunity to time things in a way that natural conception can't. And this might not be the best thing for us, since we (like to) get a little caught up in the planning stages of things. (Case in point- the nearly 2 years we had to plan our wedding. We had everything planned to the smallest detail.)
So here's what we need to have sorted out before we can begin this journey:
- Insurance. This is pretty self-explanatory, but having an insurance plan written in the state of MA is a biggie, b/c MA has some of the most comprehensive infertility treatment laws in the nation. In a lot of ways, it really binds us locationally to this state (which is great, b/c I love it here). The other option is NJ, which is where Ari and I are from originally, but like I said, we love it up here and MA is where all of our friends are.
- Income. Also pretty self-explanatory. Right now, we're working on 1.5 incomes as Ari gets the new business up and running. Seeing as we need to sack away upwards of $15k for one DE/IVF cycle, this is also a biggie.
- Housing. I'm in the unique position of having free housing with my job. It's been a lifesaver for the past 9 months. However, there are also unique challenges with my job as a result of said free housing and how it relates to maternity leave.
- Well-managed thyroid. Have another monitoring appointment on 12/21. I'm hoping I'm in a better TSH range, but my suspicion is that it has crept back up, as symptomatically, I've felt like poo since I upped dosages. I think I may have had another ATA attack, and I'm dumping TSH right now. My RE is a little slow on protocol, and I'm seriously considering getting a second opinion/more aggressive RE after the new year.
- Lose weight. I've got about 50lbs I need to lose to get my BMI where it needs to. And losing weight will be next to impossible until I have a well-managed thyroid.
- Adopt healthy lifestyles. Regular exercise, eating better, and getting everything squared away with my teeth, because oral health is directly linked to instances of miscarriage.
..right?
November 9, 2009
A truly restorative weekend.
The RESOLVE of the Bay State Annual Conference on Saturday was just amazing. I'm so glad Ari and I went - we did some seriously deep soul-searching, some crying (well, I did the crying), and engaged in some very cathartic dialogue with people who get it - who really understand what this crazy world of IF is all about. It was so empowering to feel that we weren't alone, and that in some ways, we were lucky (I never thought I'd use that word in this context) that I was Dx'd so young with POF. Ari and I were easily the youngest couple there; it seemed like the average age was in the mid-30s, but there were a large number of women and couples in their early-40s. There was a pretty large turnout- at least 200 people.
The keynote speaker was Dr. Ali Domar. Her address really resonated with us; she spoke to all of the textbook points about how infertility and stress go hand in hand in a vicious cycle. While I've read this myself, there's something different about a) hearing it from a leading professional in the field and b) seeing nods of validation and experience around the room. It was also reasurring to hear as IF referred to as a crisis, and how for many couples, this is their first major crisis that they've ever had to handle together. Dr. Domar supported her statements with a variety of research studies confirming the link b/t IF and stress and how they each impact each other. One particularly striking study revealed that the levels of depression and stress felt by women coping with IF is matched equally with women who are being treated for cancer. I felt like all of the mental time I've devoted to our situation is not not entirely for naught, in the sense that it's completly normal. It feels all-encompassing b/c it is all-encompassing.
For our first session, we headed to Dr. Domar's more topic focused workshop on the Mind/Body approach to treating IF. Ari and I have both been experiencing increased levels of anxiety and stress recently, and this session really provided some insight on how reigning in the stress could greatly improve our chances later on down the line once we're pursuing IVF. She presented enough compelling research that I'm seriously considering doing one of her 10-week Mind/Body programs in the near future.
Our second session was a panel discussion on Donor Egg v. Adoption. What an eye-opener! I went in very pro DE and Ari very much for adoption. By the end of it, our horizons had been broadened significantly and we've flip-flopped on our stances. For me, adoption is a 100% guarantee of coming home with a child. For Ari, DE is almost half the cost of adoption given the clinical coverage provided by MA insurance companies. It certainly got us talking.
At lunch, we met two other couples, both in their mid-30s. One couple was even from our town, and the wife seemed very on-guard. You could just tell this has been a particularly hard journey; she implied they had already completed several failed procedures. The other couple seemed relatively new to IF as well, and were researching everything about IVF. While it was nice to feel validated, lunch was awkward. In those moments of silence where all of a sudden that pasta I'm eating is just SO interesting, my head was reeling: just what IS the social etiquette of the IF face-to-face community? Is asking about diagnoses rude? Are the number of procedures none of my business? Can I ask how old you are? It was simply fascinating from a sociological/communication standpoint.
After lunch, we skipped out on the next session- we wanted to go to an Adoption Overview: Domestic v. International b/c it was one area I haven't poured tons of research into, so it would be helpful to get more info. We were just so overloaded with information we kind of needed a break. We were also torn over a silent auction item: a full donor agency package- agency fee, escrow services, legal fees (worth about $7500) for a minimum bid of $1500. All the bidder would have to pay would be the donor fee (~$8000). It would cut a DE cycle practically in half, and we thought, we can swing a bid of up to $2K if we had to. We had this very excited conversation about all of the possibilities of DE, but when we went to leave our bid, they had added that the package must be activated within 6 months. We were crushed - we're just not in a place to start anything within a year or more, much less 6 months. It spiraled into a huge conversation about Ari's new business, my present work situation - it got heavy. I felt like the whole day had been ruined.
We were redeemed in our last session, about Dealing with the Outside World. A panel of two support group leaders and a life coach led a guided conversation about coping. One woman spoke about the sense of a loss of control, which I was completely relating to in that moment after the whole silent auction debacle. One panelist recommended about taking a step back, living in the moment and being present, then waiting one month or six months and re-evaluating, but not to let that sense of lost control pull you away from life, from living in the moment.
While I didn't necessarily get the specific gem of info I was looking for, it was so cathartic to simply speak freely within a group who gets it. I got very emotional at one point while speaking, and I caught myself - it's social conformity- and the life coach and several other women were like, "Let yourself cry- it's ok! This is the safe space to do it." Afterward, such relief. While I do like my therapist, I will be seriously investigating support groups after this. Speaking of my therapist, I ran into her at the Conference at the end of the day, and got to introduce her to Ari. I was amused that she said, "It's nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you!" I'm not sure that's something anyone wants to hear from their partner's therapist ^__^
In all, it was a fantastic experience full of valuable information. It's a lot to digest at once, but I think we've come out richer and more knowledgeable on the other side. For the first time in several months, I've come out with a genuine sense of hope.
The keynote speaker was Dr. Ali Domar. Her address really resonated with us; she spoke to all of the textbook points about how infertility and stress go hand in hand in a vicious cycle. While I've read this myself, there's something different about a) hearing it from a leading professional in the field and b) seeing nods of validation and experience around the room. It was also reasurring to hear as IF referred to as a crisis, and how for many couples, this is their first major crisis that they've ever had to handle together. Dr. Domar supported her statements with a variety of research studies confirming the link b/t IF and stress and how they each impact each other. One particularly striking study revealed that the levels of depression and stress felt by women coping with IF is matched equally with women who are being treated for cancer. I felt like all of the mental time I've devoted to our situation is not not entirely for naught, in the sense that it's completly normal. It feels all-encompassing b/c it is all-encompassing.
For our first session, we headed to Dr. Domar's more topic focused workshop on the Mind/Body approach to treating IF. Ari and I have both been experiencing increased levels of anxiety and stress recently, and this session really provided some insight on how reigning in the stress could greatly improve our chances later on down the line once we're pursuing IVF. She presented enough compelling research that I'm seriously considering doing one of her 10-week Mind/Body programs in the near future.
Our second session was a panel discussion on Donor Egg v. Adoption. What an eye-opener! I went in very pro DE and Ari very much for adoption. By the end of it, our horizons had been broadened significantly and we've flip-flopped on our stances. For me, adoption is a 100% guarantee of coming home with a child. For Ari, DE is almost half the cost of adoption given the clinical coverage provided by MA insurance companies. It certainly got us talking.
At lunch, we met two other couples, both in their mid-30s. One couple was even from our town, and the wife seemed very on-guard. You could just tell this has been a particularly hard journey; she implied they had already completed several failed procedures. The other couple seemed relatively new to IF as well, and were researching everything about IVF. While it was nice to feel validated, lunch was awkward. In those moments of silence where all of a sudden that pasta I'm eating is just SO interesting, my head was reeling: just what IS the social etiquette of the IF face-to-face community? Is asking about diagnoses rude? Are the number of procedures none of my business? Can I ask how old you are? It was simply fascinating from a sociological/communication standpoint.
After lunch, we skipped out on the next session- we wanted to go to an Adoption Overview: Domestic v. International b/c it was one area I haven't poured tons of research into, so it would be helpful to get more info. We were just so overloaded with information we kind of needed a break. We were also torn over a silent auction item: a full donor agency package- agency fee, escrow services, legal fees (worth about $7500) for a minimum bid of $1500. All the bidder would have to pay would be the donor fee (~$8000). It would cut a DE cycle practically in half, and we thought, we can swing a bid of up to $2K if we had to. We had this very excited conversation about all of the possibilities of DE, but when we went to leave our bid, they had added that the package must be activated within 6 months. We were crushed - we're just not in a place to start anything within a year or more, much less 6 months. It spiraled into a huge conversation about Ari's new business, my present work situation - it got heavy. I felt like the whole day had been ruined.
We were redeemed in our last session, about Dealing with the Outside World. A panel of two support group leaders and a life coach led a guided conversation about coping. One woman spoke about the sense of a loss of control, which I was completely relating to in that moment after the whole silent auction debacle. One panelist recommended about taking a step back, living in the moment and being present, then waiting one month or six months and re-evaluating, but not to let that sense of lost control pull you away from life, from living in the moment.
While I didn't necessarily get the specific gem of info I was looking for, it was so cathartic to simply speak freely within a group who gets it. I got very emotional at one point while speaking, and I caught myself - it's social conformity- and the life coach and several other women were like, "Let yourself cry- it's ok! This is the safe space to do it." Afterward, such relief. While I do like my therapist, I will be seriously investigating support groups after this. Speaking of my therapist, I ran into her at the Conference at the end of the day, and got to introduce her to Ari. I was amused that she said, "It's nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you!" I'm not sure that's something anyone wants to hear from their partner's therapist ^__^
In all, it was a fantastic experience full of valuable information. It's a lot to digest at once, but I think we've come out richer and more knowledgeable on the other side. For the first time in several months, I've come out with a genuine sense of hope.
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.
May 25, 2009
Happy Birthday to Me
In the last minute of my birthday today, I had to squeeze in a post. This weekend has been wonderful. It hasn't been about tests, or babies, or uncertainty. This birthday was a weekend of firsts.
In looking back over the last year, a lot has happened:
*raises glass*
Cheers.
- I fired my first gun! Arieh took me to a shooting range, something I have always wanted to try, and have been too terrified to do so. It was nervewracking and liberating all at once. For the first time ever firing a gun, I'm not half bad. In that moment when the safety was off, my finger on the trigger, and I was ready to fire the first shot, I thought of only one thing looking down my sights: I will fucking beat infertility and I will take back everything it's tried to take from me.
- I planted my first garden! It's a clandestine, contraband garden. We live on a college campus, so starting our own landscaping is a bit of a no-no.... except we have a nice secluded patch of dirt near our apartment, so we've claimed it as our own. It's wonderful to have started growing something like this - it was actually A's idea, and so I'm glad we're growing something together. Albeit "illegally" ;) It's mostly marigolds and some salvia.
- I ate meat on swords! A took me to a Brazilian BBQ with a bunch of our friends and it was a gluttonous sodium-overload of protein. My fingers and toes feel like sausages b/c I'm pretty sure I just ate my entire month's value of sodium. Lamb, pork, "chicken bacon" (chicken wrapped in bacon), beef sirloin, and, for the adventurous: chicken hearts. Did I eat one? You bet your sweet bippy I did! Was it gross? OMG yes, but damned if I didn't pop it in my mouth and take it like a champ! Will I do it again? Fuck no!
In looking back over the last year, a lot has happened:
- I moved... twice.
- I started a new job.
- We had to give up our cats for my job (one to my parents, one to my sister).
- I thought I had a stroke. Turns out it was just a nasty migraine.
- I got a new car.
- I had my big toenail ripped off by the 66 bus on the way to work.
- A was published 3 different articles for a trade mag in his field.
- Our first friends to get married were also the first to have a baby.
- We celebrated our first anniversary.
- I saw the sun set over the Pacific.
- I played my first slot in Vegas.
- I drove a muthafuckin Corvette convertible on the Pacific Coast Highway!
- I ate *real* sushi for the first time.
- I got a shitty, shitty Dx, but have coped surprisingly well.
- My husband was laid off just hours after said Dx.
- I found my faith after it was lost for a few weeks.
- I fired a gun, planted a garden, and ate meat on swords.
*raises glass*
Cheers.
April 5, 2009
My Initial Emotional Response (so far)
Finding out that you probably won't be able to have your own children is such a devastating blow. I remember feeling like there's no way this could be really happening to me for the first couple of days after I found out. Since 3/18, I've been through a lot emotionally. Add to the fact that my husband also just got laid off the day after my Dx... yeah, it's been rough lately.
I cry. A lot. You wouldn't think that you'd think about your ability have children every single day, but I do. I can't help it- there are reminders all around me. Take for example, a simple walk to get the mail with my husband. It's a sunny day, and by the time we get to Davis, I've seen 4 strollers, 1 pregnant woman, and tons of kids. They are everywhere. In the grocery store, on TV... pregnant ladies and babies are all over the place. It's kind of that same scenario when a woman has a pregnancy scare- suddenly, the only commercials on TV are for ClearBlue and Pampers.
If you haven't gathered already, I default to self-deprecating humor. It's a defense mechanism I readily recognize in myself, and honestly, it's just the first way I cope with things. I realize this might make others uncomfortable, b/c they think I'm making light of my own terribly tragic issue. It's not that I'm poking fun, or that I don't realize the gravity of the situation. It's just the easiest way for me to talk about it around other people and not be a blubbering mess. As a writer, this comes of usually as cynicism, so I thought it necessary to preface the rest of this post with this caveat.
The day I found out, I cried so much. I cried at work, cried when I got home, cried during dinner, cried before bed, cried when I got up the next morning. My husband cried with me. He was as sad as I was for all the same reasons, and sadder still to see his wife in so much emotional pain. In that first week following both my Dx and the layoff, our marriage has become foundationally stronger than it has been in the last year. If there's a silver lining to be had in all of this, it's that I know I have indeed, a partner for life, through all of life's sorrows.
For the first week or so, I was stuck in the overwhelming sadness of the situation. I was watching futures disappear: of coming out of the bathroom with a positive HPT in hand, telling Arieh he's going to be a daddy; of seeing my child's face for the first time and playing the "gee, he looks like me or you" game; of surprising family and friends with creative, inventive ways with news that we're pregnant... What made me saddest is that we were deliberately waiting to TTC (try to conceive) for another 2 years, so that I had my master's completed, and we had a bigger nest egg. We were getting all of our ducks in a row because it was important to us that we are financially secure when we're ready to build our family. I felt like I was cheated.
In coping, I've moved into a much angrier stage right now. I'm in the "it's just not fucking fair" stage. Because, well, it's not. I'm taking a lot of my anger out on God right now. The good thing is that I haven't abandoned my faith entirely; you can't be angry at something you don't believe in. That's just a logical fallacy.
I've just finished reading Harold Kushner's When Bad Things Happen to Good People, and while I can rationally internalize the concepts he presents, emotionally, I'm just not ready to accept them. God is not to blame for this. Neither am I. Neither are my doctors. Kushner argues that suffering is not caused by God; it is random and indiscriminant. Kushner validates God's existence, saying that God is here to give us strength to work through our suffering. As His children suffers, so to does God. It's a lot to take in at once, and like I said- I get it, but I'm just not ready to accept it.
It's unfair and it angers me. While I appreciate the comments I've received that "well, there's always adoption or IVF," it's extremely frustrating. Why should I have to pay thousands of dollars to have my own children when millions of women have them for free? Like, I get there are thousands of unwanted babies/children out there, but why should I feel guilty for wanting my own biological children? If children are our legacy, our immortality: imagine how terribly isolating it must feel to know that the gene pool for your family stops at you.
I struggle with feelings of inadequacy. I did when I had my ovary removed too; I described it as though I were a tree with a broken branch at the time. That I wasn't a complete woman. Now, with my ability to have my own children practically robbed from me, the effect has been devastating to my gender identity. I'm not saying I think I'm a dude, but I sure do feel like less of a woman. I feel fat. I feel ugly. I feel useless. Rationally, I know these things are not true. Emotionally, it's a struggle every single day.
I'm fairly convinced at my followup appt on 4/24, my doctor will recommend counseling. Until then, I just continue to write. It's theraputic, and it helps me chronicle my emotional development. It doesn't make any of this necessarily any easier, but at least it's something I can do in a situation where I'm virtually helpless.
I cry. A lot. You wouldn't think that you'd think about your ability have children every single day, but I do. I can't help it- there are reminders all around me. Take for example, a simple walk to get the mail with my husband. It's a sunny day, and by the time we get to Davis, I've seen 4 strollers, 1 pregnant woman, and tons of kids. They are everywhere. In the grocery store, on TV... pregnant ladies and babies are all over the place. It's kind of that same scenario when a woman has a pregnancy scare- suddenly, the only commercials on TV are for ClearBlue and Pampers.
If you haven't gathered already, I default to self-deprecating humor. It's a defense mechanism I readily recognize in myself, and honestly, it's just the first way I cope with things. I realize this might make others uncomfortable, b/c they think I'm making light of my own terribly tragic issue. It's not that I'm poking fun, or that I don't realize the gravity of the situation. It's just the easiest way for me to talk about it around other people and not be a blubbering mess. As a writer, this comes of usually as cynicism, so I thought it necessary to preface the rest of this post with this caveat.
The day I found out, I cried so much. I cried at work, cried when I got home, cried during dinner, cried before bed, cried when I got up the next morning. My husband cried with me. He was as sad as I was for all the same reasons, and sadder still to see his wife in so much emotional pain. In that first week following both my Dx and the layoff, our marriage has become foundationally stronger than it has been in the last year. If there's a silver lining to be had in all of this, it's that I know I have indeed, a partner for life, through all of life's sorrows.
For the first week or so, I was stuck in the overwhelming sadness of the situation. I was watching futures disappear: of coming out of the bathroom with a positive HPT in hand, telling Arieh he's going to be a daddy; of seeing my child's face for the first time and playing the "gee, he looks like me or you" game; of surprising family and friends with creative, inventive ways with news that we're pregnant... What made me saddest is that we were deliberately waiting to TTC (try to conceive) for another 2 years, so that I had my master's completed, and we had a bigger nest egg. We were getting all of our ducks in a row because it was important to us that we are financially secure when we're ready to build our family. I felt like I was cheated.
In coping, I've moved into a much angrier stage right now. I'm in the "it's just not fucking fair" stage. Because, well, it's not. I'm taking a lot of my anger out on God right now. The good thing is that I haven't abandoned my faith entirely; you can't be angry at something you don't believe in. That's just a logical fallacy.
I've just finished reading Harold Kushner's When Bad Things Happen to Good People, and while I can rationally internalize the concepts he presents, emotionally, I'm just not ready to accept them. God is not to blame for this. Neither am I. Neither are my doctors. Kushner argues that suffering is not caused by God; it is random and indiscriminant. Kushner validates God's existence, saying that God is here to give us strength to work through our suffering. As His children suffers, so to does God. It's a lot to take in at once, and like I said- I get it, but I'm just not ready to accept it.
It's unfair and it angers me. While I appreciate the comments I've received that "well, there's always adoption or IVF," it's extremely frustrating. Why should I have to pay thousands of dollars to have my own children when millions of women have them for free? Like, I get there are thousands of unwanted babies/children out there, but why should I feel guilty for wanting my own biological children? If children are our legacy, our immortality: imagine how terribly isolating it must feel to know that the gene pool for your family stops at you.
I struggle with feelings of inadequacy. I did when I had my ovary removed too; I described it as though I were a tree with a broken branch at the time. That I wasn't a complete woman. Now, with my ability to have my own children practically robbed from me, the effect has been devastating to my gender identity. I'm not saying I think I'm a dude, but I sure do feel like less of a woman. I feel fat. I feel ugly. I feel useless. Rationally, I know these things are not true. Emotionally, it's a struggle every single day.
I'm fairly convinced at my followup appt on 4/24, my doctor will recommend counseling. Until then, I just continue to write. It's theraputic, and it helps me chronicle my emotional development. It doesn't make any of this necessarily any easier, but at least it's something I can do in a situation where I'm virtually helpless.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)