Passover is one of my favorite holidays, second only to Thanksgiving. They're both about food, family, and rich with tradition. Passover is not an easy holiday for the infertile Jew; so much emphasis is placed on children and fertility that it feels like there are little landmines left around the seder plate and hidden with the afikomen. How does Passover affect each sphere of the ALI community: adoption, loss, infertility? And how do we make this a meaningful holiday and spare ourselves the mental and emotional strife?
Before I go on, I need to say: this post is a big step for me. This time a year ago, I nearly lost my faith in the wake of finding out about my infertility. This year, like the crocus that fights through the snow, I come with a renewed perspective and a resilience to go on.
Sitting on our seder plate will be the beitzah, a roasted egg, a symbol of both life and fertility. Typically, particularly among the Sephardi, a roasted egg is the first thing eaten at the start of the festival meal. Traditionally this is also the first food a mourner eats following a Jewish funeral: in death, we remember life. We are reminded of life's cycles, of marking time- these concepts are foundational to the Jewish faith. The beitzah is perhaps the most visible reminder, the first of the emotional landmines on our holiday table. This year, instead of looking at that egg and thinking about the fact that I don't really have any good eggs of my own, I see the beitzah as a symbol of hope. There's something about a thin little shell containing possibility within: the act of hatching, of breaking through- this is a lesson in patience, struggle, and ultimately, hope. The egg is the idea. Its hatching is the fruition of our hopes.
Turning the pages of our haggadah, we read aloud how Pharaoh ordered the death of all Hebrew first-born. Later, the final plague results in the death of all Egyptian first-born: the profound loss of life- including Pharaoh's only son- moves him such that he releases the Hebrew slaves. I cannot imagine what it must be like to read this and have experienced any kind of pregnancy loss. I have always struggled with this part of Exodus. It speaks so clearly of almost Hammurabian retribution: you kill our first-born so too shall yours be killed. But from a theological standpoint, I suppose it illustrates that God is indiscriminate, b/c the same God who kills the Egyptian first-born is the same God that allows the first-born of his Chosen to be killed. What can we learn in this moment? Carpe diem. When someone's time is up, that's it, so make the most of the time you have.
For some of us in the ALI community, this still makes no sense, that something we've longed for could be taken away so soon. We cannot regain those lives, so we must live our own lives as best we can, yet these wounds leave scars on our hearts. As we retell the story of Exodus, we relive the pain of that scar even as we eat maror (horseradish) and karpas (vegetable) dipped in saltwater to symbolize tears, so that we as pass on our traditions even the pain of the memory is still felt. It is an almost kinesthetic form of cultural and historic education. 5000 years later we are still feeling the pain of Exodus, so it is only natural that those grieving a loss- be it at 6 weeks, 6 months, or even 6 years of age- still feel the pain. Acknowledge this pain of loss. Weave it into your story. Use it as a tool to educate and comfort others.
Even the emotional toll of adoption is featured in the Passover story, as Moses is rescued from the reeds and raised as the adopted son of the Egyptian princess. For the couple waiting to be chosen by prospective birth parents, that sense of hope and yet waiting is just as palpable as the Hebrew slaves waiting for their freedom. The Hebrews, once freed, they had to be ready to go at a moment's notice- that's why matzo is unleavened and we eat unleavened foods, as the bread didn't even have time to rise they had to flee Egypt so quickly. With domestic adoption, the same is true: everything has to be ready to go because you could be in line at the post office and get a call that you'll be placed with a child in a matter of days. So how can the prospective adoptive parent who's mind is half on the food in front of them but have their cell on vibrate in their pocket, waiting and hoping for that phone call? I recommend capitalizing on that energy, that excitement, and that hope. Channel energy into action. Offer to babysit the kids while the moms cook (might as well get a little extra practice in before the real deal, right?) Or, screw babysitting and get to work in the kitchen! Infuse your food with your energy so that your guests grow as excited with each bite as you already are. Get creative: nothing helps keep that energy moving like a little creativity. Maybe you arrange a beautiful table scape with handmade place cards, or you stitch your own matzo cover.
There are still even other areas that focus so much on family, children, legacy, and fertility, particularly the Four Questions and the Four Children. I'll get into a much more in depth look at those tomorrow.
This is by no means a comprehensive survival guide, but these are just a few things to make this holiday a little more bearable and perhaps provide a renewed context. That being said, I know this is a tough holiday for some and really can reawaken some old wounds. Like any other family gathering, if you need to bow out or only stay for a short while- do so. Ultimately, you need to do what's healthy for you and your partner. Make sure you do what you need for your own healing. I highly recommend having your spouse or a close friend read you this beautiful and invigorating guided meditation over at Ritual Well on the Kos Refuah/Cup of Healing.
For those of you cooking like fiends this weekend like I am, I wish you ovens that heat evenly, fridges and freezers that will fit all your precooked food, and short lines at the grocery store. More thoughts on Passover and infertility tomorrow.
March 25, 2010
March 22, 2010
Blog Award from Sonja!
As promised, here's the blog award I received from Sonja over at The Mud and the Lotus. Thanks Sonja :) She's awesome, and her recently redesigned and retitled blog looks fab, so pop on over and say hello!
10 Things About Me:
- I have a handful of trademark photos I take every time I have a camera in my hands: macro shots, interesting shadows, looking up through trees, anything with patterns, long angled perspectives, and playing with off-centering/cropping. I take macro shots of everything.
- I appeared on Good Morning America with my second grade class, literally saying "Good morning, America!" as the lead in to one of their random segments. We still have it on Betamax. That's right- Betamax!
- I absolutely love playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. I'm level 37(? I think?) and my weapon of choice is the Scar-H.
- I love shopping at farmers' markets in the summer, and creating all sorts of seasonal dishes on the fly.
- I eat my cereal dry, but will have a glass of milk with it. I just don't like mushy cereal, but I do appreciate the taste combination of milk and cereal together.
- I say the V'ahavta during every takeoff, and repeat it over and over from the moment we start taxiing until wheels have left the ground.
- My favorite football team is the Washington Redskins, and my favorite player is Clinton Portis. Even though Mark Brunell hasn't been on the team in years, I still find reasons to make fun of him when I watch a Skins game.
- I love reading very quirky non-fiction, such as Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex, The Ten Most Beautiful Experiments, Kitchen Confidential. I also love quirky documentaries like Beer Wars, King of Kong, Helvetica, Contstantine's Sword. With the aid of these lovely context clues, you should be able to derive I am a huge dork.
- I am paralyzingly terrified of jellyfish when I go in the ocean. I think they're cool looking and fascinating, but the idea of being stung by one freaks me out so much.
- I am a terrible baker, but I make a mean tomato sauce and can cook fish to perfection. The only baked good I can make really well are sugar cookies, I think b/c it's simply the easiest cookie recipe ever. Also, I make amazing pancakes.
And now, I'm giving this award to the following 10 bloggers, in no particular order:
- In Due Time
- Elana at Elana's Musings
- Wiseguy over at Woman Anyone?
- IF Optimist, then...
- Bella & Her Fella -(she's got new protected digs over at WordPress)
- Hillary at Making Me Mom
- An Unwanted Path
- Pour Away the Ocean (formerly, Infertility Rocks!)
- Body Diaries by Lucy
- Hope at A Chance Worth Taking
March 18, 2010
One year ago today...
...everything as I imagined it, changed. The way I thought my life would go, that traditional path- these no longer became realistic options. One year ago today, I read, dumbstruck, this email from my doctor:
"[The results], if they are to be believed, indicate that premature ovarian failure is the problem, not PCOS dysfunction/follicular maturation arrest as you, I and your previous caregivers had presumed."
It was literally my worst nightmare come true. I felt robbed. I knew something was wrong with my body, but I hadn't prepared myself for the worst case scenario. I still remember when I read that email at work, I literally felt like all the air had been sucked out from my lungs, from the room, the volume turning down and heard a high pitched ringing in my ears. I was, quite simply, shell-shocked.
And, I can say confidently, after a year of soul-searching, introspection, therapy, crying, blogging, laughing, talking and talking and talking and talking and talking with my husband, my family, my friends - I'm okay with that change. I'm not thrilled, I'm not throwin' a party for myself- but I'm okay with it all. It is what it is, and we adjust accordingly.
Almost exactly this time last year, I was sobbing in my apartment, on the phone with my husband, who had received news that same day, nearly a few hours before, that he might be losing his job in the next week, crying and terrified and trying to make sense of it all. This year, the apartment is spring-cleaned, the windows are open, and Ari was on his way out the door to meet with a client. I've only got a few hours' sleep to my name, but I'm feeling refreshed, invigorated, and soaking up the gentle spring breezes and sunshine. I made it a point to sweep and dust and clean and just general say, "Out with you, you wretched year!"
I picked up my husband from the airport. I had one of my favorite salads for lunch (Whole Foods' Cranberry Pecan Feta with Balsamic over Mesclun Mix). I bought myself a lovely bouquet of tulips. I'm wearing one of my absolutely favorite shirts (I bought it for a quarter from a thrift store in college; it's some 7-year old's little league shirt, complete with their last name and number on the back). I'm wearing a bracelet I've had since 7th grade but haven't worn because it broke years and years ago- so I fixed it last week with my new jewelry making habit and brought new life to it. I'm wearing the kickass handmade watch I bought in Kyoto. I've got a massage lined up at 3:30pm, and I'm buying us a new teapot, since ours literally fell apart this morning while cleaning. I'm also buying a little Wet Jet cleaner because a) I've always wanted one and b) I really need to mop, and our mop sucks.
Last year I was dreading Passover because I was having a crisis of faith. This year, I need to get my ass in gear and get a menu together b/c we're hosting our first seder at our place. Last year, I stumbled blindly through this day. This year, I'm blinded only by the sunshine every time I keep looking up at this expanse of pale blue. I don't know if it's the estrogen or the weather, but I'm feeling the best I've felt in a year.
I've come to a place of peace, a point of recognition, and the moment to start taking action. I've mourned and I've grieved and I'm sure I still have plenty of tears left. But I'm done spiraling down. I do what I've always done: I get back up, brush off my bum, hope too many people didn't see me fall flat on my ass and if they did fuck 'em, and I keep going. Did I scrape myself when I fell down? Of course, and that immediate stinging pain of skin on pavement hurt like hell. Now I've got an interesting little scar with its own story. I've learned that I need to be careful where I walk and pay attention to the road. I've learned that bandaids and ointments will treat the wound, but that I will always remember the moment I fell and carry with me the pain. I've learned to ask those around me to help me back up.
Premature ovarian failure. What a helluva name, right? Even premature ovarian insufficiency isn't necessarily a kinder form of nomenclature. Nobody wants to be thought of as a failure or insufficient. I'm not a failure, I'm just infertile. And I think today, I'm going to stop whipping out my diagnosis like it's my fucking title on my business card. I've always had to clarify: "I have premature ovarian failure..." Fuck it. It's just a busted organ (I have two actually- it's just a matter of time before the thyroid stops working entirely).
It's not cancer, I'm still able-bodied: it's about putting it in perspective. Should I still live a long and full life? Absolutely. Will we still be able to build a family? Of course, just not in the way we planned... and that's okay. Like a good scar, I'll have an interesting story to tell.
An interesting story to tell our children, and their children, and their childrens' children.
"[The results], if they are to be believed, indicate that premature ovarian failure is the problem, not PCOS dysfunction/follicular maturation arrest as you, I and your previous caregivers had presumed."
It was literally my worst nightmare come true. I felt robbed. I knew something was wrong with my body, but I hadn't prepared myself for the worst case scenario. I still remember when I read that email at work, I literally felt like all the air had been sucked out from my lungs, from the room, the volume turning down and heard a high pitched ringing in my ears. I was, quite simply, shell-shocked.
And, I can say confidently, after a year of soul-searching, introspection, therapy, crying, blogging, laughing, talking and talking and talking and talking and talking with my husband, my family, my friends - I'm okay with that change. I'm not thrilled, I'm not throwin' a party for myself- but I'm okay with it all. It is what it is, and we adjust accordingly.
Almost exactly this time last year, I was sobbing in my apartment, on the phone with my husband, who had received news that same day, nearly a few hours before, that he might be losing his job in the next week, crying and terrified and trying to make sense of it all. This year, the apartment is spring-cleaned, the windows are open, and Ari was on his way out the door to meet with a client. I've only got a few hours' sleep to my name, but I'm feeling refreshed, invigorated, and soaking up the gentle spring breezes and sunshine. I made it a point to sweep and dust and clean and just general say, "Out with you, you wretched year!"
I picked up my husband from the airport. I had one of my favorite salads for lunch (Whole Foods' Cranberry Pecan Feta with Balsamic over Mesclun Mix). I bought myself a lovely bouquet of tulips. I'm wearing one of my absolutely favorite shirts (I bought it for a quarter from a thrift store in college; it's some 7-year old's little league shirt, complete with their last name and number on the back). I'm wearing a bracelet I've had since 7th grade but haven't worn because it broke years and years ago- so I fixed it last week with my new jewelry making habit and brought new life to it. I'm wearing the kickass handmade watch I bought in Kyoto. I've got a massage lined up at 3:30pm, and I'm buying us a new teapot, since ours literally fell apart this morning while cleaning. I'm also buying a little Wet Jet cleaner because a) I've always wanted one and b) I really need to mop, and our mop sucks.
Last year I was dreading Passover because I was having a crisis of faith. This year, I need to get my ass in gear and get a menu together b/c we're hosting our first seder at our place. Last year, I stumbled blindly through this day. This year, I'm blinded only by the sunshine every time I keep looking up at this expanse of pale blue. I don't know if it's the estrogen or the weather, but I'm feeling the best I've felt in a year.
I've come to a place of peace, a point of recognition, and the moment to start taking action. I've mourned and I've grieved and I'm sure I still have plenty of tears left. But I'm done spiraling down. I do what I've always done: I get back up, brush off my bum, hope too many people didn't see me fall flat on my ass and if they did fuck 'em, and I keep going. Did I scrape myself when I fell down? Of course, and that immediate stinging pain of skin on pavement hurt like hell. Now I've got an interesting little scar with its own story. I've learned that I need to be careful where I walk and pay attention to the road. I've learned that bandaids and ointments will treat the wound, but that I will always remember the moment I fell and carry with me the pain. I've learned to ask those around me to help me back up.
Premature ovarian failure. What a helluva name, right? Even premature ovarian insufficiency isn't necessarily a kinder form of nomenclature. Nobody wants to be thought of as a failure or insufficient. I'm not a failure, I'm just infertile. And I think today, I'm going to stop whipping out my diagnosis like it's my fucking title on my business card. I've always had to clarify: "I have premature ovarian failure..." Fuck it. It's just a busted organ (I have two actually- it's just a matter of time before the thyroid stops working entirely).
It's not cancer, I'm still able-bodied: it's about putting it in perspective. Should I still live a long and full life? Absolutely. Will we still be able to build a family? Of course, just not in the way we planned... and that's okay. Like a good scar, I'll have an interesting story to tell.
An interesting story to tell our children, and their children, and their childrens' children.
March 17, 2010
You like me... you really like me!
So, I went into a bit of hibernation and, like the awakening season around me, I am slowly coming out of it. I need to catch up on most of blogs I follow, and am slowly marking a return to posting regularly. In coming out of hibernation, I vanity searched this blog title on Google, and boy howdy, people have been talking about it!
I've been awarded another blog award by Sonja over at The Mud and the Lotus. Thanks Sonja! Not like I'm only almost 2 months late realizing I've received this award or anything :) Seriously though, thanks bunches. Award post to follow in a few days.
I've also been named one of the 101 Best ALI (Adoption, Loss, and Infertility) Blogs over at Grown in My Heart, an online adoption network. This blog is only one of 10 listed in the specific Infertility category- I've been named alongside some biggies like Melissa over at Stirrup Queens and Pamela at Silent Sorority. I'm totally flattered, honored, and humbled.
I was also inspired to write this post b/c I've been approached by a website called Wellsphere to become one of their Featured Health Bloggers. I've never heard of Wellsphere before, and I'm hesitant to do so without knowing much about them. Anyone out there work with them or signed up to be one of their featured bloggers?
I guess I'm just always surprised when people like a) my writing or b) anything I do (graphic design, vocal music, crafts, photography, etc.). I've never taken compliments well - I put my heart into stuff because I like to do it, not because I'm fishing for praise, so when I do, I always get real bashful, real fast. But I've had a lot of people tell me I apparently write quite well, and I'm left to wonder if I shouldn't be working on something more formal, like a book, or a more dedicated website. I dunno. It's tempting, to say the least.
So I'll wrap this up by saying a huge thank you to my readers and followers - my blog's popularity is only increased by your praise and spreading my name out there. I started this blog because I was simply overwhelmed with emotion: it began as a cathartic- if public yet anonymous- means of coping. I have remained anonymous mostly out of consideration for my husband; he's got a pretty big online presence and I don't want to compete, let alone have this somehow attached to his already established professional presence- and I'm totally okay with that. I continue to exist because I know that there are people who really do care about what I have to say, who are invested in the crazy ups and downs of our journey through infertility. And ultimately, I keep on writing because I hope I can help someone else out there, even just one person- to put the information out there that I wished was there when I entered the Land of IF just a year ago tomorrow.
Thanks readers, for giving me strength, hope, and the courage to keep on writing about what's important.
I've been awarded another blog award by Sonja over at The Mud and the Lotus. Thanks Sonja! Not like I'm only almost 2 months late realizing I've received this award or anything :) Seriously though, thanks bunches. Award post to follow in a few days.
I've also been named one of the 101 Best ALI (Adoption, Loss, and Infertility) Blogs over at Grown in My Heart, an online adoption network. This blog is only one of 10 listed in the specific Infertility category- I've been named alongside some biggies like Melissa over at Stirrup Queens and Pamela at Silent Sorority. I'm totally flattered, honored, and humbled.
I was also inspired to write this post b/c I've been approached by a website called Wellsphere to become one of their Featured Health Bloggers. I've never heard of Wellsphere before, and I'm hesitant to do so without knowing much about them. Anyone out there work with them or signed up to be one of their featured bloggers?
I guess I'm just always surprised when people like a) my writing or b) anything I do (graphic design, vocal music, crafts, photography, etc.). I've never taken compliments well - I put my heart into stuff because I like to do it, not because I'm fishing for praise, so when I do, I always get real bashful, real fast. But I've had a lot of people tell me I apparently write quite well, and I'm left to wonder if I shouldn't be working on something more formal, like a book, or a more dedicated website. I dunno. It's tempting, to say the least.
So I'll wrap this up by saying a huge thank you to my readers and followers - my blog's popularity is only increased by your praise and spreading my name out there. I started this blog because I was simply overwhelmed with emotion: it began as a cathartic- if public yet anonymous- means of coping. I have remained anonymous mostly out of consideration for my husband; he's got a pretty big online presence and I don't want to compete, let alone have this somehow attached to his already established professional presence- and I'm totally okay with that. I continue to exist because I know that there are people who really do care about what I have to say, who are invested in the crazy ups and downs of our journey through infertility. And ultimately, I keep on writing because I hope I can help someone else out there, even just one person- to put the information out there that I wished was there when I entered the Land of IF just a year ago tomorrow.
Thanks readers, for giving me strength, hope, and the courage to keep on writing about what's important.
"I feel so much spring."
I feel so much spring within meBlow, winds, blow, spring has just begun.And something's taken wing within me,What was dark so long had felt like winter,Finally there's sun.And so I sing...That I feel so much Spring.- from the musical, "A New Brain"
It is simply glorious out today. Tree branches are dotted with little red possibilities of leaves. The air smells fresher, full of vigor. The cloudless robin's egg blue sky is only occasionally streaked by planes leaving their soundless white wakes. The warmth in the air brings a blush to my cheeks, makes my blood hum in the veins just beneath my skin.
I am remarkably okay with tomorrow being tomorrow. Ari comes home at 11:30am, and I've got a massage lined up at 3:30pm. Tomorrow, I do for me. Tomorrow, I'm reclaiming a little bit of of the femininity I felt I've lost over the last year. This means makeup, doing my hair for the first time in forever, hell, maybe even a skirt. I am going to thoroughly enjoy my day off tomorrow, and soak up this lovely pre-Equinox weather.
While I don't necessarily want to end such a truly relaxed post with a downer, I've started my epic birth control- I call it epic, b/c I'm supposed to take it for 3 months straight. Anywho, it's been almost 10 years since I first started taking birth control, and over year since I've had this much estrogen dumped into my system. Um, it's knocking me off my ass with nausea. I actually had the dry heaves this morning when I woke up and then proceeded to throw up at work once I got there. Not fun. I had the same thing happen when I was 18, and the nausea was on and off for about a solid month - I'm hoping I acclimate a little faster. But I'm not going to let a lil queasiness stop me from enjoying today's beautiful weather.
Tonight, it's time to get some spring cleaning on. I've left the windows open all day to air out the apartment, and now that it smells all fresh and springy in here, I should probably start that deep clean that is always so desperately needed after a long winter of clutter.
Happy St. Patrick's Day. And yes, I get to wear green and drink Guinness (well, not with the way my tummy is feeling) too - b/c in addition to being a half-Japanese Jew-by-choice, I'm also half-Irish :-D The more you know, right?
*raises a pint* To spring, to beginnings, to moving on: Sláinte!
March 16, 2010
Has anyone seen my hormones?
Oh, here they are.
It's like an endless ocean of estrogen.
I need to check with my doc, but I'm not sure if I'm supposed to skip the white week in 3 months and go to the next 3-pack. I'm also not sure if I can skip every 4th week, so I can have a "period."
Bottoms up.
It's like an endless ocean of estrogen.
I need to check with my doc, but I'm not sure if I'm supposed to skip the white week in 3 months and go to the next 3-pack. I'm also not sure if I can skip every 4th week, so I can have a "period."
Bottoms up.
March 15, 2010
The luck o'the Irish.
Believe it or not, in addition to being a half-Japanese Jew-by-choice, I'm also Irish (thanks Mom!) :) It accounts for the freckles and ability to tan quickly, but the Japanese keeps me from getting sunburnt usually. I believe it also accounts for my new-found affinity for beer. While I'm still on the fence about cabbage, I love a good corned beef sandwich, which satiates both the Irish and the Jew in me.
Wednesday is St. Patrick's Day. I've never been a big fan of it as an excuse to drink oneself stupid, b/c really, I don't need an excuse to do that. I want to get wasted, don't you worry- I'll make it happen (which is perhaps a bimonthly occasion at best; I've lost the resolve of my college-aged youth). St. Patrick's Day in Boston, much less on a college campus that's still in session and looking at spring break just 2 days later... God help me. As far as I'm concerned, it's just another day.
It's Thursday I'm not looking forward to.
I can't believe it... Thursday will be a year since I got my dx. I still remember reading the email from my doctor and feeling like I couldn't hear anymore, like someone just quickly turned down the volume around me and the light faded at the corners of my vision. Perhaps I nearly passed out at my desk. I had always known that POF was a possibility, but I thought there's no way it would be me.
I remember reading the email right before lunch, and then heading wordlessly out my office to my apartment. I called Ari in a panic. He didn't totally understand, and I don't think I did either. He had already received word that morning that layoffs would be hitting his company in the next week or so, and this news landed like a second ton of bricks for the day. When it rains, it pours.
I spent the rest of the day reading everything I could online, work be damned. I went home, I read some more, I cried some more. Ari came home from work, and I just broke down. He assured me he still loved me, thought me no less of a wife or woman, and promised me that we'd find a way to have a family. We went into Cambridge to pick up some compounded medicine for me, a scrip for prometrium to try and induce endometrial shedding since I was pushing almost 3 months of amenorrhea. We wandered around Harvard, Central, and Inman Squares- the streets became a blur. It was grey and damp out. We ended up at Bukowski's. We ordered wings, and cried during dinner. It was awkward. I remember telling Ari that I felt like I was watching whole futures disappear: running out of the bathroom with a postive pg test and telling him he was going to be a Daddy...
In retrospect, I know this could still be a possibility.
I remember walking for what felt like hours with Ari, holding hands so tightly to the point of pain, trying to find the nearst T-stop so we could just go home. Really, we walked for probably 40 minutes or so after dinner. I called my parents and my sister. Ari called his parents. Everyone cried. Everyone was sorry, like they had gotten the news that someone has just died. And in a way, mourning seemed only appropriate.
I woke up feeling hungover from all the crying the next morning. I woke up a little darker the next day, a part of me that I don't think I can ever recover, a little light taken out of my naturally small tank of optimism.
March 18th was the day everything changed. I approach this anniversary a very different woman than I was a year ago, with vastly different goals and dreams and hopes and fears. I'm making career decisions based on benefits and whether the employer's healthcare is part of the Massachusetts mandate. I look at international adoption as a chance to get some world traveling done. I've stopped wondering what a half-Ari, half-Miri baby will look like. I've developed a more comfortable relationship with needles. I need to decide what's more important in the short term: a downpayment on a house, or the expense to build a family. I've had to rethink what it means to be Jewish in the context of ART and adoption. I've nearly lost my faith.
So yeah, not really looking forward to Thursday. I need to do something nice for myeslf that day; I'm trying to see if I can get the day off (my boss is being... passive-aggressive, as usual, since I was out sick with food poisoning 2 days last week, so apparently it's damn presumptious to ask for a day off this week). I need to certainly do something to feel feminine and womanly, to reclaim the day.
I need to mark this time, and then move on.
Wednesday is St. Patrick's Day. I've never been a big fan of it as an excuse to drink oneself stupid, b/c really, I don't need an excuse to do that. I want to get wasted, don't you worry- I'll make it happen (which is perhaps a bimonthly occasion at best; I've lost the resolve of my college-aged youth). St. Patrick's Day in Boston, much less on a college campus that's still in session and looking at spring break just 2 days later... God help me. As far as I'm concerned, it's just another day.
It's Thursday I'm not looking forward to.
I can't believe it... Thursday will be a year since I got my dx. I still remember reading the email from my doctor and feeling like I couldn't hear anymore, like someone just quickly turned down the volume around me and the light faded at the corners of my vision. Perhaps I nearly passed out at my desk. I had always known that POF was a possibility, but I thought there's no way it would be me.
I remember reading the email right before lunch, and then heading wordlessly out my office to my apartment. I called Ari in a panic. He didn't totally understand, and I don't think I did either. He had already received word that morning that layoffs would be hitting his company in the next week or so, and this news landed like a second ton of bricks for the day. When it rains, it pours.
I spent the rest of the day reading everything I could online, work be damned. I went home, I read some more, I cried some more. Ari came home from work, and I just broke down. He assured me he still loved me, thought me no less of a wife or woman, and promised me that we'd find a way to have a family. We went into Cambridge to pick up some compounded medicine for me, a scrip for prometrium to try and induce endometrial shedding since I was pushing almost 3 months of amenorrhea. We wandered around Harvard, Central, and Inman Squares- the streets became a blur. It was grey and damp out. We ended up at Bukowski's. We ordered wings, and cried during dinner. It was awkward. I remember telling Ari that I felt like I was watching whole futures disappear: running out of the bathroom with a postive pg test and telling him he was going to be a Daddy...
In retrospect, I know this could still be a possibility.
I remember walking for what felt like hours with Ari, holding hands so tightly to the point of pain, trying to find the nearst T-stop so we could just go home. Really, we walked for probably 40 minutes or so after dinner. I called my parents and my sister. Ari called his parents. Everyone cried. Everyone was sorry, like they had gotten the news that someone has just died. And in a way, mourning seemed only appropriate.
I woke up feeling hungover from all the crying the next morning. I woke up a little darker the next day, a part of me that I don't think I can ever recover, a little light taken out of my naturally small tank of optimism.
March 18th was the day everything changed. I approach this anniversary a very different woman than I was a year ago, with vastly different goals and dreams and hopes and fears. I'm making career decisions based on benefits and whether the employer's healthcare is part of the Massachusetts mandate. I look at international adoption as a chance to get some world traveling done. I've stopped wondering what a half-Ari, half-Miri baby will look like. I've developed a more comfortable relationship with needles. I need to decide what's more important in the short term: a downpayment on a house, or the expense to build a family. I've had to rethink what it means to be Jewish in the context of ART and adoption. I've nearly lost my faith.
So yeah, not really looking forward to Thursday. I need to do something nice for myeslf that day; I'm trying to see if I can get the day off (my boss is being... passive-aggressive, as usual, since I was out sick with food poisoning 2 days last week, so apparently it's damn presumptious to ask for a day off this week). I need to certainly do something to feel feminine and womanly, to reclaim the day.
I need to mark this time, and then move on.
March 11, 2010
General updates on life.
So I've come out of hibernation for a bit. It's that whole spring reawakening thing. I don't know how much I plan to update... the emotional release that was so vital and cathartic a year ago doesn't seem as relevant or pressing now.
Exciting updates...
Ari has a job! He starts Monday. He'll be in Georgia for most of the week for some paperwork and training, but it's a great job and an excellent fit for his goals and interests. And the money's not bad either ;)
I'm only 3 months away from being an Aunt! Otter just passed the 6-month mark. I'm helping with shower planning and am getting excited about starting some neat craft projects for Spudette (it's a girl).
We are moving! There's been some stirrings at my job and I need to switch buildings on campus. (We'd literally be moving 2 buildings over, maybe a hundred yards at best.) There's potentially a promotion happening with this as well. While the apartment would be bigger, and presumably the paychecks, I'm not thrilled. I'm actively job hunting, and looking to get out of student housing as soon as humanly possible. Mostly I just need to not work for my current boss and this institution.
Other updates...
Facing some interesting and tough choices, some of which need to be made as a couple, and others I need to wrestle with on my own. The first is whether we buy a house or start a family. The fact that we even need to consider this financially still angers me. Presumably, all couples should consider this, but a down-payment on a house and the cost to conceive or adopt are pretty much on par with one another. It boggles the fucking mind.
The other choice is a personal one: whether we go DE/IVF or adopt. And then if adoption, do we go domestic or international? *insert cash register sounds here* It's a deeply personal struggle, b/c as I've said many times before, I feel like pregnancy would be a healing experience for me. But adoption carries a pretty much 100% guarantee of a family. There are so many pros and cons for each, and I've been writing them out and pondering them a lot recently, b/c we need to make a decision and soon. I know- we're not even 30 yet, but seeing as either route can take some time, and that I wanted to have children basically AT age 30, we need to get the wheels turning.
This has probably been the most complex decision I've ever had to make. Ari is on board for whatever path I choose, but right now, the decision is pretty much up to me. He's leaning more toward adoption, and in some ways, so am I... it's just really hard to let go of an idea that has held such a grip on me, that I'd be able to just pop out a baby, donor egg or otherwise. I suppose when something's biologically hardwired into your brain, the decision to reject that notion should be frought with struggle.
So that's pretty much the state of the union. I'm still not sure what's going on with my doc (see my previous post) or when I'm starting HRT. Other good news: we should be getting a substantial refund again this year... I'm one of the few ppl that loves tax season.
So yeah. I'm back, I suppose. Lots of stuff on my mind as of late. Lots to ponder. In some ways, just barely keeping it all together but trying to do so with as much of a smile as possible.
Exciting updates...
Ari has a job! He starts Monday. He'll be in Georgia for most of the week for some paperwork and training, but it's a great job and an excellent fit for his goals and interests. And the money's not bad either ;)
I'm only 3 months away from being an Aunt! Otter just passed the 6-month mark. I'm helping with shower planning and am getting excited about starting some neat craft projects for Spudette (it's a girl).
We are moving! There's been some stirrings at my job and I need to switch buildings on campus. (We'd literally be moving 2 buildings over, maybe a hundred yards at best.) There's potentially a promotion happening with this as well. While the apartment would be bigger, and presumably the paychecks, I'm not thrilled. I'm actively job hunting, and looking to get out of student housing as soon as humanly possible. Mostly I just need to not work for my current boss and this institution.
Other updates...
Facing some interesting and tough choices, some of which need to be made as a couple, and others I need to wrestle with on my own. The first is whether we buy a house or start a family. The fact that we even need to consider this financially still angers me. Presumably, all couples should consider this, but a down-payment on a house and the cost to conceive or adopt are pretty much on par with one another. It boggles the fucking mind.
The other choice is a personal one: whether we go DE/IVF or adopt. And then if adoption, do we go domestic or international? *insert cash register sounds here* It's a deeply personal struggle, b/c as I've said many times before, I feel like pregnancy would be a healing experience for me. But adoption carries a pretty much 100% guarantee of a family. There are so many pros and cons for each, and I've been writing them out and pondering them a lot recently, b/c we need to make a decision and soon. I know- we're not even 30 yet, but seeing as either route can take some time, and that I wanted to have children basically AT age 30, we need to get the wheels turning.
This has probably been the most complex decision I've ever had to make. Ari is on board for whatever path I choose, but right now, the decision is pretty much up to me. He's leaning more toward adoption, and in some ways, so am I... it's just really hard to let go of an idea that has held such a grip on me, that I'd be able to just pop out a baby, donor egg or otherwise. I suppose when something's biologically hardwired into your brain, the decision to reject that notion should be frought with struggle.
So that's pretty much the state of the union. I'm still not sure what's going on with my doc (see my previous post) or when I'm starting HRT. Other good news: we should be getting a substantial refund again this year... I'm one of the few ppl that loves tax season.
So yeah. I'm back, I suppose. Lots of stuff on my mind as of late. Lots to ponder. In some ways, just barely keeping it all together but trying to do so with as much of a smile as possible.
Stroking ego in the name of medical care.
I call bullshit.
So I got a second opinion about my thyroid & POF last month, and it's basically the same. Next steps: birth control for hormone replacement therapy, up the thyroid meds. Pretty S.O.P. So I send Dr. G an email asking about whether I need to schedule an appt to get a scrip for said BP or can he just call it in. He then sends me a rather terse email back:
So I've had to stroke his ego a bit and confirm that no, I just went for a second opinion and that yes, I'd still like to be his patient. This is probably the most ingratiating thing I've ever had to do: my doctor thinks I've broken up with him and now I need to come crawling back to him. It's highly likely there was a miscommunication b/t our practice's office staff and Dr. G (it wouldn't be the first time) and that when I had my medical records sent over to second opinion doc, it was construed as seeking another provider... even though I explicitly told them I was seeking a second opinion.
I shouldn't have to grovel to receive appropriate and timely medical care.
So I got a second opinion about my thyroid & POF last month, and it's basically the same. Next steps: birth control for hormone replacement therapy, up the thyroid meds. Pretty S.O.P. So I send Dr. G an email asking about whether I need to schedule an appt to get a scrip for said BP or can he just call it in. He then sends me a rather terse email back:
If I understand your recent correspondence correctly, you are no longer a patient of mine and will not be coming here for care any longer. Under those circumstances, it would be inappropriate for me to prescribe a new medication for you whose effects, positive or ill , i will not be able to monitor. Your next care giver should do that. But, in answer to the theoretical question, yes, birth control pills and adjustment of your thyroid rx is a good route to take.
So I've had to stroke his ego a bit and confirm that no, I just went for a second opinion and that yes, I'd still like to be his patient. This is probably the most ingratiating thing I've ever had to do: my doctor thinks I've broken up with him and now I need to come crawling back to him. It's highly likely there was a miscommunication b/t our practice's office staff and Dr. G (it wouldn't be the first time) and that when I had my medical records sent over to second opinion doc, it was construed as seeking another provider... even though I explicitly told them I was seeking a second opinion.
I shouldn't have to grovel to receive appropriate and timely medical care.
February 26, 2010
Second verse, same as the first.
Got a second opinion re: thyroid and ovarian function yesterday. This doc basically confirmed everything, and actually told me I was right to trust my instincts about not taking the new 137mcg dose of Synthroid back in December. My sticking to the 125 mcg Levoxyl has paid off, as my numbers already show; he said it just didn't make sense that when my TSH was in the basement, Dr. G increased my dose. He should have either lowered it, or left it the same, according to 2nd opinion doc.
He did state that Dr. G's rather periphery test of my adrenal antibodies should be monitored more closely. With widespread autoimmune dysfunction (thyroid and ovarian), there's a good chance I could develop anti-adrenal antibodies. Which, quite plainly, would suck. A lot. So I just need to be mindful of sudden weight loss, loss of appetite, and dizziness - key indicators. I might never never develop anti-adrenal antibodies. Or it could happen a month from now. Either way, he said I seem pretty in tune with myself, so I just need to remain vigilant. His suggestion was to move to hormone replacement therapy as soon as possible, and to not be surprised if my thyroid med is nearly doubled in dosage. (The estrogen binds to chemicals in the Levoxyl formula, so I need to take a ton more so my body can actually absorb the thyroid hormone.)
So, I suppose the next step is making an appt with Dr. G to get a birth control scrip.
Other news as of late... Ari got a job! This is big, big news, as of yesterday. He's negotiated the final number and everyone is happy with it, so there you go :) After almost a year of unemployment (March 30th would have been a year), Ari's got a job with a company that he thinks he'll be very happy with. I'm really excited for him. He starts on March 15.
He did state that Dr. G's rather periphery test of my adrenal antibodies should be monitored more closely. With widespread autoimmune dysfunction (thyroid and ovarian), there's a good chance I could develop anti-adrenal antibodies. Which, quite plainly, would suck. A lot. So I just need to be mindful of sudden weight loss, loss of appetite, and dizziness - key indicators. I might never never develop anti-adrenal antibodies. Or it could happen a month from now. Either way, he said I seem pretty in tune with myself, so I just need to remain vigilant. His suggestion was to move to hormone replacement therapy as soon as possible, and to not be surprised if my thyroid med is nearly doubled in dosage. (The estrogen binds to chemicals in the Levoxyl formula, so I need to take a ton more so my body can actually absorb the thyroid hormone.)
So, I suppose the next step is making an appt with Dr. G to get a birth control scrip.
Other news as of late... Ari got a job! This is big, big news, as of yesterday. He's negotiated the final number and everyone is happy with it, so there you go :) After almost a year of unemployment (March 30th would have been a year), Ari's got a job with a company that he thinks he'll be very happy with. I'm really excited for him. He starts on March 15.
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