As I've mentioned before, I've journaled my dreams ever since I was quite young; during high school, college, and right after college, I would have these vivid, sprawling epic dreams, often playing upon recurring dream symbols of mine: water (oceans), bridges, tornadoes, being chased, my childhood neighborhood, schools, driving. I had two rather intense dreams this morning, one that kept me in bed for easily an extra half-hour just so I could keep replaying the first half of that dream, in that amorphous semi-aware state before fully waking.
Dream 1. I dreamt I was cradling the most perfect newborn baby. He couldn't have weighed more than 7 pounds, and fit perfectly as I held him in both of my hands. (I say "he" b/c I'm not really sure what gender he was, and it's better than calling it an "it" from here on out.) He was swaddled in white linen, his cheeks rosy and his face switching from tightly scrunched to peacefully serene. A light layer of down covered his scalp. Everything about him was perfect: a tiny nub nose, and the most delicate, beautiful fingers that, like his face, both clenched and released these Lilliputian fists. I was entranced by his fingers, the way you might find miniatures for doll houses both adorable and astonishing in their detail and scale. He reached for my breast and I happily let him suckle there. The warmth of skin to skin, that perfect newborn baby smell: it was intoxicating. Every now and then he would dribble a bit of milk, or I'd have to adjust slightly, and the milk was this thick texture not unlike oil paint, except it was this beautiful shade of milky gold, opalescent and sparkling gold in the light. After he had finished, I laid him down in a bassinet and wrote down the time I fed him on a white board on my fridge. I remarked at the bright white-gold residue on my fingers and hands.
This is the part of the dream that gets really weird. So I go to check on the bassinet sometime later, and I smell something burning in the kitchen. The baby is no longer in the bassinet, and I run to the kitchen. In a large saucier is- I know what you're thinking, but it's not- a large brick of tofu, cooking in some broth. It is roughly the same size as my baby, and I recognize instantly that a) my baby has turned into tofu and b) my tofu baby is now cooking on the stove. I cut through the tofu with a spatula and it's tofu through and through- I know there is no hope of getting the baby back now that it has completely transmogrified. I start wailing and screaming, feeling this utter sense of emptiness within my breast.
Dream 2. I'm at some cooking school, and I've arrived late to my class. My instructors include a woman (let's call her H) with whom I've actually taken two cooking classes from in waking life, and Anthony Bourdain. They've already begun to shut down for the night: not just the kitchen, but the whole school. I'm scrambling to put together some kind of salmon with curry and lavender (which, salmon and curry = tasty; salmon and lavender honey = tasty; not so sure about this mix). I'm freaking out b/c they're literally shutting the lights off around me in the kitchen, and somehow, I manage to dismantle the entire stove as I'm trying to cook. I start freaking out, asking for help, and Anthony and H are exasperated with me at this point. Anthony reminds me to calm down, shows me how to reinstall and turn the burners back on, but it's just a mess. Somehow, in the process of putting the stove back together, I've crammed dirty dishes underneath the stove top and I can secure it down to cook. I'm on the verge of a total emotional breakdown when I wake up suddenly, breathing fast and feeling quite disoriented.
My thoughts on these? I'm not really sure yet. I'm still waking up for the day, so I haven't had a chance to really analyze them. But they have certainly left a vivid impact on me: they felt so real. I should also note that this is the first baby dream I've had since high school. And even then, that was the only other baby dream I've ever remembered having. In high school I dreamt I went through a full pregnancy and labor in the course of about 48 hours, and had a beautiful little blonde-haired blue-eyed boy (which is nigh impossible what with the half-Japanese in me). Last night was the first dream in over a decade that I'd had about someone I perceived as my child, even throughout this whole ordeal of diagnosis and coping in the last year.
Strange. I've got a little soul-searching and pondering to do today, for as it says in the Talmud: "A dream which is not interpreted is like a letter which is not read."
April 3, 2010
April 2, 2010
Busted Plumbing's Infertility Blog Hop
Kate over at Busted Plumbing is hosting an Infertility Blog Hop. It's a great opportunity to find new blogs and bring a little exposure to your own as well. Check out her post here for more details and have fun finding new blogs to read and support!
Hop on over and check it out- I'm blog hopping this weekend, are you?
Hop on over and check it out- I'm blog hopping this weekend, are you?
March 26, 2010
Passover and the Infertile Jew- A Fresh Take on the Four Questions and the Four Children
In my previous post, I go into great depth about the focus of fertility at Passover and some ways to cope. In this post, I'd like to focus on two very specific parts of the Passover seder.
The Four Questions
The Four Questions are asked by the youngest at the table, and sung to a delightful melody that is often a chance for the youngest to show off their mad skills learned in Hebrew school. Essentially the questions boil down to: Why is this night different from all other nights? They each highlight unique aspects of the Passover holiday: why do we double dip our food? Why do we eat matzo instead of leavened foods? Why do we eat bitter herbs? Why do we recline while eating?
I present the Four Questions, retold in the context of infertility, to highlight the very unique aspects of our struggle: Why is our path to family building so different from all others' paths?
The Four Children
While the Four Questions address the uniqueness of Passover, the story of the Four Children (traditionally the Four Sons) address the meaning of Passover. The Four Children are represented as the Wise Child (what are the laws/customs of Passover?), the Wicked Child (What does Passover mean to you?), the Simple Child (What is Passover?), and the Child Who Does Not Know Enough to Ask. Think about your own journey through infertility: I'm sure you've all encountered some versions of these "Children" in trying to answer our favorite question: "So, when are you having kids?"
I offer up infertility's approach, and call it the Four Friends:
The Compassionate Friend asks: "What can I do to help?" We tell them to let us cry, to provide us with plenty of distractions as we wait for test results, to get us out of the house when we are mopey, to be respectful of our need for space or when we don't want to hear about their children, that we don't always want advice and sometimes we just want an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on. Most of all, we want them to know we're not contagious and we don't want them to cut us off b/c infertility is isolating enough.
The Inconsiderate Friend asks: "What did you do wrong to deserve being punished?" We tell them that cancer patients don't deserve cancer, that the Haitians and Chileans didn't deserve an earthquake, that infertility is just as random as any other disease or disaster and they are both comparable in the scope of emotional crises. We tell them we don't deserve to be treated or spoken to in this matter, and that we will exclude their negativity from our social circles.
The Naive Friend asks: "Why don't you just adopt? Why don't you just relax?" We tell them that if infertility was indeed so simple to cure, it wouldn't affect one out of every eight couples. We also tell them that adoption is not a simple decision, and turn the question back to them: why don't they just adopt if it's so easy?
And what do we tell the Friend That Doesn't Know Enough to Ask? We tell them that we have a prior commitment the same day as that baby shower, we congratulate them on their news but would you excuse us- we have to run to the bathroom, and that we don't have kids yet because we're just having so much fun "practicing" right now. Or we tell them simply that we're going through a hard time and it's just too complicated to get into the details, but we'd still love your support and if you'd check in on us once in a while.
. . .
A good Shabbos and a wonderful Pesach to you this coming week.
The Four Questions
The Four Questions are asked by the youngest at the table, and sung to a delightful melody that is often a chance for the youngest to show off their mad skills learned in Hebrew school. Essentially the questions boil down to: Why is this night different from all other nights? They each highlight unique aspects of the Passover holiday: why do we double dip our food? Why do we eat matzo instead of leavened foods? Why do we eat bitter herbs? Why do we recline while eating?
I present the Four Questions, retold in the context of infertility, to highlight the very unique aspects of our struggle: Why is our path to family building so different from all others' paths?
- On our path, why do we pay to have a child when all others are conceived for free?
- On our path, why do we choose careers and places to live based on healthcare availability and not career goals or regional interests?
- On our path, why does baby-making involve more needles and/or paperwork and less lovemaking?
- On our path, why do we still worry even after we find out we're either paper pregnant or actually pregnant?
The Four Children
While the Four Questions address the uniqueness of Passover, the story of the Four Children (traditionally the Four Sons) address the meaning of Passover. The Four Children are represented as the Wise Child (what are the laws/customs of Passover?), the Wicked Child (What does Passover mean to you?), the Simple Child (What is Passover?), and the Child Who Does Not Know Enough to Ask. Think about your own journey through infertility: I'm sure you've all encountered some versions of these "Children" in trying to answer our favorite question: "So, when are you having kids?"
I offer up infertility's approach, and call it the Four Friends:
The Compassionate Friend asks: "What can I do to help?" We tell them to let us cry, to provide us with plenty of distractions as we wait for test results, to get us out of the house when we are mopey, to be respectful of our need for space or when we don't want to hear about their children, that we don't always want advice and sometimes we just want an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on. Most of all, we want them to know we're not contagious and we don't want them to cut us off b/c infertility is isolating enough.
The Inconsiderate Friend asks: "What did you do wrong to deserve being punished?" We tell them that cancer patients don't deserve cancer, that the Haitians and Chileans didn't deserve an earthquake, that infertility is just as random as any other disease or disaster and they are both comparable in the scope of emotional crises. We tell them we don't deserve to be treated or spoken to in this matter, and that we will exclude their negativity from our social circles.
The Naive Friend asks: "Why don't you just adopt? Why don't you just relax?" We tell them that if infertility was indeed so simple to cure, it wouldn't affect one out of every eight couples. We also tell them that adoption is not a simple decision, and turn the question back to them: why don't they just adopt if it's so easy?
And what do we tell the Friend That Doesn't Know Enough to Ask? We tell them that we have a prior commitment the same day as that baby shower, we congratulate them on their news but would you excuse us- we have to run to the bathroom, and that we don't have kids yet because we're just having so much fun "practicing" right now. Or we tell them simply that we're going through a hard time and it's just too complicated to get into the details, but we'd still love your support and if you'd check in on us once in a while.
. . .
A good Shabbos and a wonderful Pesach to you this coming week.
March 25, 2010
Surviving Passover: Thoughts on Being Jewish and Infertile
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.
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 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.
February 17, 2010
IT'S NOT ENDO!
My doc assures me... it's not endo. It's a "transient active cystic structure." My follie threw my whole reproductive system for a surprise, probably created a fluid or blood filled cyst, and then went away, thus explaining all of my symptoms. As my doc put it, it would be near impossible for me to even develop endo at this point in the game.
Thank the fucking stars.
Next up: hormone replacement therapy, or as you many commonly refer to them: birth control pills. That ironically, well, are doing nothing to keep me from getting pregnant.
I'll schedule a follow up at some point with Dr. G for a scrip, but for now, I'm just going to soak up the good news. Other good news: Ari's out of town tonight for a series of interviews at corp HQ. Fingers crossed, I'm hoping he'll have a formal job offer by this time next week.
Thank the fucking stars.
Next up: hormone replacement therapy, or as you many commonly refer to them: birth control pills. That ironically, well, are doing nothing to keep me from getting pregnant.
I'll schedule a follow up at some point with Dr. G for a scrip, but for now, I'm just going to soak up the good news. Other good news: Ari's out of town tonight for a series of interviews at corp HQ. Fingers crossed, I'm hoping he'll have a formal job offer by this time next week.
In diagnostic limbo...
So, my bloodwork from Saturday came back already - everything is pretty much super-low, which is "normal" for someone with POF. Crazy high FSH (62.4), mid-range LH (32.6), estradiol wicked low (20), progesterone (0.1).
But that crazy u/s I had Friday, the one where I suddenly have endo? Yeah, it doesn't appear that Dr. G has gotten the results back yet. And if he has, there's been no email or phone call follow-up. Is the endo a red herring, so to speak? Am I worrying over nothing? Or is this indicative of something much more awful?
The imagination, she is a harsh mistress.
But that crazy u/s I had Friday, the one where I suddenly have endo? Yeah, it doesn't appear that Dr. G has gotten the results back yet. And if he has, there's been no email or phone call follow-up. Is the endo a red herring, so to speak? Am I worrying over nothing? Or is this indicative of something much more awful?
The imagination, she is a harsh mistress.
February 12, 2010
Dear Wanda*
Dear Wanda*,
Thanks for poking that pocket of newly discovered endo today as deeply and as uncomfortably as possible during our 15 minute tryst this morning. (Also- thanks for wearing a condom; we can never take our love for granted in this day and age.) All of the pain that I was having last week that disappeared early this week has now come back with a vengeance, such that Advil barely touches it. Thanks. I feel totally awesome up in my girlie bits right now. We should do this again sometime.
xoxo,
Miriam
*Not her real name.
Thanks for poking that pocket of newly discovered endo today as deeply and as uncomfortably as possible during our 15 minute tryst this morning. (Also- thanks for wearing a condom; we can never take our love for granted in this day and age.) All of the pain that I was having last week that disappeared early this week has now come back with a vengeance, such that Advil barely touches it. Thanks. I feel totally awesome up in my girlie bits right now. We should do this again sometime.
xoxo,
Miriam
*Not her real name.
Cannot catch a break.
First question I ask: "Do I have any endometrial lining?"
Answer: Yes. It's very very thin, but it's there.
Ultrasound tech brings in the doctor. It's Lesley, the lady from last week. SOP: look on the outside, pee, drop trough, insert dildocam, call in the doc. This time, well this time it was different. It was all SOP but then no good pics, then a collective scratching of heads. They bring in Dr. #2. Lots more prodding with the dildocam; it's beginning to get quite uncomfortable. All that pain that had virtually disappeared this week came back (I'm achy as I type this). My ovary is quite small, consistent with POF. But... there's an... anomaly.
Is it an egg? No. Is it a follie? No, but there's a super tiny one still. Is it a cyst? Sort of? Maybe? Place your bets folks, place your bets... What's the weird half-inch thing on my ovary?
If you guessed endo- that's right: endo-fucking-metriosis- come claim your prize.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Answer: Yes. It's very very thin, but it's there.
Ultrasound tech brings in the doctor. It's Lesley, the lady from last week. SOP: look on the outside, pee, drop trough, insert dildocam, call in the doc. This time, well this time it was different. It was all SOP but then no good pics, then a collective scratching of heads. They bring in Dr. #2. Lots more prodding with the dildocam; it's beginning to get quite uncomfortable. All that pain that had virtually disappeared this week came back (I'm achy as I type this). My ovary is quite small, consistent with POF. But... there's an... anomaly.
Is it an egg? No. Is it a follie? No, but there's a super tiny one still. Is it a cyst? Sort of? Maybe? Place your bets folks, place your bets... What's the weird half-inch thing on my ovary?
If you guessed endo- that's right: endo-fucking-metriosis- come claim your prize.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
February 9, 2010
Dreaming in anger.
Had a dream so real this morning I thought it actually happened, and then was so angry in said dream I woke up with a nasty headache. I wish I had written this down as soon as I got to work as opposed to so late in the day now, as the details are fuzzy. Essentially, it had this very late 70's early 80's feel to it, like the way old photos look. I was at my RE's office, there for a 9am appointment. The receptionist said it was canceled, and no one had called me to let me know it was canceled. I freaked out- like full-on screaming match- and went on and on about how it's already a 45 minute drive to their office and they could have called me before I got there. The receptionist had the nerve to tell me it was a far drive for my doctor too, and that I shouldn't be so selfish. I stormed out of the office. I think the receptionist was played by Elizabeth Mitchell of LOST fame. (My dreams have been peppered by cameo appearences this past week from several LOST stars.)
I have been in a foul, foul funk as of late.
I've got a 2nd u/s Friday morning (7:30am... which means I have to leave by 6:45am to get their by T b/c driving in to the Longwood area is dumb) and more b/w, prolly during lunch tomorrow. The part of me that can't stand being a human lab rat is also the same part of me that doesn't like unanswered questions. If a second u/s and more b/w mean a better picture of the random ovarian pain these past few weeks (which is all but gone now), well, then, let's do it, I suppose.
I look forward to tests and doctor's appts now about as much as I look forward to a bat to the face.
Speaking of b/w, here's the results from last Monday, 2/1:
Estradiol = 24 pg/mL (post-menopausal or mid-follicular peak, depending on context)
Progesterone = 0.3 ng/mL (low, post-meno)
ESR (Erythrocyte Sedimentation Rate - measures inflammation/autoimmune disease things; non-specific test) = 23.0 mm/hr (slightly elevated)
FSH = 61.4 mIU/mL (post-meno ranges)
LH = 42.3 miU/mL (post-meno or mid-cycle peak, depending on context)
Stellar.
Other things... got an iPhone- it rocks, way better than the Windows Mobile POS Samsung Blackjack I was using before; leveled up to 21 in COD: Modern Warfare 2 and unlocked the Bling perk; catching up on No Reservations; thoroughly confused and enthralled by the new season of LOST; hating my job like it's my job and am now actively searching (5 apps out in the last 24 hours); really hoping to somehow have a magical 4-day snowday weekend, but most likely not; thought the second half of the Super Bowl was some pretty incredible football playing and absolutely despised the onslaught of particularly misogynistic ads this year; made mozzarella cheese from scratch last weekend.
And there ya have it. I'm pretty much perpetually angry and frustrated, constantly smiling and knodding at the life in front of me while glancing sideways at any opportunity to get out of or change my present circumstances, job or IF-wise.
I feel like I'm ready to crack.
I have been in a foul, foul funk as of late.
I've got a 2nd u/s Friday morning (7:30am... which means I have to leave by 6:45am to get their by T b/c driving in to the Longwood area is dumb) and more b/w, prolly during lunch tomorrow. The part of me that can't stand being a human lab rat is also the same part of me that doesn't like unanswered questions. If a second u/s and more b/w mean a better picture of the random ovarian pain these past few weeks (which is all but gone now), well, then, let's do it, I suppose.
I look forward to tests and doctor's appts now about as much as I look forward to a bat to the face.
Speaking of b/w, here's the results from last Monday, 2/1:
Estradiol = 24 pg/mL (post-menopausal or mid-follicular peak, depending on context)
Progesterone = 0.3 ng/mL (low, post-meno)
ESR (Erythrocyte Sedimentation Rate - measures inflammation/autoimmune disease things; non-specific test) = 23.0 mm/hr (slightly elevated)
FSH = 61.4 mIU/mL (post-meno ranges)
LH = 42.3 miU/mL (post-meno or mid-cycle peak, depending on context)
Stellar.
Other things... got an iPhone- it rocks, way better than the Windows Mobile POS Samsung Blackjack I was using before; leveled up to 21 in COD: Modern Warfare 2 and unlocked the Bling perk; catching up on No Reservations; thoroughly confused and enthralled by the new season of LOST; hating my job like it's my job and am now actively searching (5 apps out in the last 24 hours); really hoping to somehow have a magical 4-day snowday weekend, but most likely not; thought the second half of the Super Bowl was some pretty incredible football playing and absolutely despised the onslaught of particularly misogynistic ads this year; made mozzarella cheese from scratch last weekend.
And there ya have it. I'm pretty much perpetually angry and frustrated, constantly smiling and knodding at the life in front of me while glancing sideways at any opportunity to get out of or change my present circumstances, job or IF-wise.
I feel like I'm ready to crack.
February 7, 2010
Let me show you my No Face.
I was hoping to eventually title a post "Let me show my my O face" but sadly, looks like I didn't ovulate. Blood tests and u/s seem to indicate a big fat nothin is happening up in my lady bits. Dr. G put it so nicely in an email to me on Thursday:
"The lab tests look no different from your old ones. In other words that "follicle" is not producing any hormones like a follicle does. It sounds as if it is an inert cyst. That does not explain all your symptoms except for the supposition that the cyst is shrinking and would have been bigger and more active hormonally if we had looked at this earlier. I would suggest we recheck your blood work in a week."
POF, FTW.
Also, what the hell is an inert cyst? Part of me is like, well, let's get the second round of bloodwork and an u/s done. The other part of me is tired of getting some seriously passive aggressive behavior from my boss at work who's getting a little tired of me having near montly trips to the doctor that eat up a half day (b/c of the location of my doc and the places he sends me to for diagnostics, it's all quite scattered far from where I work). I'm also tired of feeling like a fucking lab rat, poked and probed and prodded.
I'm bummed, big time. I'm frustrated, and I'm angry, and I'm tired of holding out false hope. Did I mention that Ari's other really awesome job lead fell through? That would have been amazing but alas, it's not to be. Got that news followed by that email from my doctor within just a few days of each other. (He's still had 1 interview this past week with Company A, another one Monday at Company B, a 2nd interview for Company A on Tuesday, and a formal offer from Company C on Wednesday. I'm excited for this week for him.)
I'm just really angry and tired of all of this. What I thought was excellent news this time last week was once again, just a fleeting anomoly - just light and shadows and nothing of substance to hold onto. I was so excited to have actual TTC babymakin' sex and then I got that email and basically didn't want to be touched. I could be channeling this energy into looking for a donor or finding an adoption agency instead of holding out this false hope that I'm actually going to conceive with my own eggs.
I fucking hate this. I fucking hate that infertility has become my life. I fucking hate that I feel like my life is on hold, when I can so clearly see the end result that I want, but I can't do a goddamned thing b/c something else pops up in front of me, pulling my attentions elsewhere.
I fucking hate waiting... and waiting, and waiting, and waiting- for blood tests, for ovulation, for emails back from my doctor, for finances, for things to just settle the fuck down already... I am stuck in a goddamned existential waiting room, flipping through magazines I don't really care about and tapping my toe impatiently.
I may need to go into hibernation for a bit.
"The lab tests look no different from your old ones. In other words that "follicle" is not producing any hormones like a follicle does. It sounds as if it is an inert cyst. That does not explain all your symptoms except for the supposition that the cyst is shrinking and would have been bigger and more active hormonally if we had looked at this earlier. I would suggest we recheck your blood work in a week."
POF, FTW.
Also, what the hell is an inert cyst? Part of me is like, well, let's get the second round of bloodwork and an u/s done. The other part of me is tired of getting some seriously passive aggressive behavior from my boss at work who's getting a little tired of me having near montly trips to the doctor that eat up a half day (b/c of the location of my doc and the places he sends me to for diagnostics, it's all quite scattered far from where I work). I'm also tired of feeling like a fucking lab rat, poked and probed and prodded.
I'm bummed, big time. I'm frustrated, and I'm angry, and I'm tired of holding out false hope. Did I mention that Ari's other really awesome job lead fell through? That would have been amazing but alas, it's not to be. Got that news followed by that email from my doctor within just a few days of each other. (He's still had 1 interview this past week with Company A, another one Monday at Company B, a 2nd interview for Company A on Tuesday, and a formal offer from Company C on Wednesday. I'm excited for this week for him.)
I'm just really angry and tired of all of this. What I thought was excellent news this time last week was once again, just a fleeting anomoly - just light and shadows and nothing of substance to hold onto. I was so excited to have actual TTC babymakin' sex and then I got that email and basically didn't want to be touched. I could be channeling this energy into looking for a donor or finding an adoption agency instead of holding out this false hope that I'm actually going to conceive with my own eggs.
I fucking hate this. I fucking hate that infertility has become my life. I fucking hate that I feel like my life is on hold, when I can so clearly see the end result that I want, but I can't do a goddamned thing b/c something else pops up in front of me, pulling my attentions elsewhere.
I fucking hate waiting... and waiting, and waiting, and waiting- for blood tests, for ovulation, for emails back from my doctor, for finances, for things to just settle the fuck down already... I am stuck in a goddamned existential waiting room, flipping through magazines I don't really care about and tapping my toe impatiently.
I may need to go into hibernation for a bit.
February 2, 2010
Groundhog Day
If the ultrasound sees a follicle, will there be six more weeks of winter?
One tiny follicle. "Your right ovary looks quite good." This is Lesley, the supervising u/s tech, while Amy, the other tech, presses the dildocam against my already sore ovary.
"There's no cyst?" I ask, worriedly.
"Nope. Just a small follicle." That's Lesley again.
"Have I ovulated?" I ask, increduously.
"Doesn't look like you have yet. But not all follicles release an egg. But there's no cyst." Amy tells me my report will be to Dr. G by tomorrow morning.
I'm not counting chickens- hell, I shouldn't even be counting eggs- but I can't believe how excited and humbled I feel right now. Almost a year ago I was told that adoption and/or DE/IVF were our only hope, and now I just might be ready to ovulate on my own.
I'm left simply in grateful awe right now.
More posts as I get bloodwork results and final u/s reports back.
One tiny follicle. "Your right ovary looks quite good." This is Lesley, the supervising u/s tech, while Amy, the other tech, presses the dildocam against my already sore ovary.
"There's no cyst?" I ask, worriedly.
"Nope. Just a small follicle." That's Lesley again.
"Have I ovulated?" I ask, increduously.
"Doesn't look like you have yet. But not all follicles release an egg. But there's no cyst." Amy tells me my report will be to Dr. G by tomorrow morning.
I'm not counting chickens- hell, I shouldn't even be counting eggs- but I can't believe how excited and humbled I feel right now. Almost a year ago I was told that adoption and/or DE/IVF were our only hope, and now I just might be ready to ovulate on my own.
I'm left simply in grateful awe right now.
More posts as I get bloodwork results and final u/s reports back.
February 1, 2010
No answers just yet.
I managed to fail a breast exam today. My doctor's words, not mine. He says I can't be pregnant b/c I "failed my breast exam." I assume that since I had a mildly bemused "that tickles" expression on my face as opposed to clawing at his face while he did my breast exam means I failed. My urine sample also came up BFN... for now.
Lots of bloodwork, measuring lots of hormones. A pelvic exam that revealed I've definitely got something on my right ovary. Doc thinks it might actually be a cyst. I have an ultrasound first thing in the morning to confirm.
I'm fucking amazed. My doc is a little bit too.
For POF, there are two scenarios: 1) My ovary is like a carton full of bad eggs; or 2) My ovary is wearing earmuffs and can't hear my pituitary gland screaming at it to do stuff; or, a combination of the two. My doc thinks I might fall into the second category, and that for whatever, the shit ton of FSH I pumped out managed to find one good receptor that's not being blocked by anti-ovarian antibodies and that maybe, just maybe, it made one good follicle produce an egg this cycle. And the corpus luteum is what's created the cyst that's causing me pain on my right ovary.
Given all of my symptoms and what he felt during my pelvic exam, my doc says he's fairly confident that I've ovulated this month. So, if Ari and I timed it right, this could have worked. I have about a 1 in 3 chance, according to my doc, that we could be pregnant. I'll take those odds over the original 6-8% chance I could ever get pregnant on my own I was originally given.
He's strongly encouraging me to get on birth control for about 6 months, stop abruptly, and then see if I ovulate again. Seeing as how I need to be on HRT anyway, it kind of kills two birds with one stone. I need to see what's up with my blood test results, pap smear, and ultrasound tomorrow, but I think I'll probably wait things out and see if I can get my body to do this naturally again. My doc cautioned that it's as likely I could ovulate next month as much as this could have been my own cycle for 2010. It's a toss up. But, as my doc put it, it's the first good news I've had in almost a year.
So in a weird way, I'm kind of in a 2ww. For the first time in 14 months, I'm waiting for my period.
Weird. And... amazing, encouraging, exciting.... hopeful.
Lots of bloodwork, measuring lots of hormones. A pelvic exam that revealed I've definitely got something on my right ovary. Doc thinks it might actually be a cyst. I have an ultrasound first thing in the morning to confirm.
I'm fucking amazed. My doc is a little bit too.
For POF, there are two scenarios: 1) My ovary is like a carton full of bad eggs; or 2) My ovary is wearing earmuffs and can't hear my pituitary gland screaming at it to do stuff; or, a combination of the two. My doc thinks I might fall into the second category, and that for whatever, the shit ton of FSH I pumped out managed to find one good receptor that's not being blocked by anti-ovarian antibodies and that maybe, just maybe, it made one good follicle produce an egg this cycle. And the corpus luteum is what's created the cyst that's causing me pain on my right ovary.
Given all of my symptoms and what he felt during my pelvic exam, my doc says he's fairly confident that I've ovulated this month. So, if Ari and I timed it right, this could have worked. I have about a 1 in 3 chance, according to my doc, that we could be pregnant. I'll take those odds over the original 6-8% chance I could ever get pregnant on my own I was originally given.
He's strongly encouraging me to get on birth control for about 6 months, stop abruptly, and then see if I ovulate again. Seeing as how I need to be on HRT anyway, it kind of kills two birds with one stone. I need to see what's up with my blood test results, pap smear, and ultrasound tomorrow, but I think I'll probably wait things out and see if I can get my body to do this naturally again. My doc cautioned that it's as likely I could ovulate next month as much as this could have been my own cycle for 2010. It's a toss up. But, as my doc put it, it's the first good news I've had in almost a year.
So in a weird way, I'm kind of in a 2ww. For the first time in 14 months, I'm waiting for my period.
Weird. And... amazing, encouraging, exciting.... hopeful.
Bingo cards and holding out hope.
A cryptic blog post, yes. Allow me to explain...
Ari got a call from a close friend of ours from grad school about some theatre related things, as these boys love to talk about. Surprise surprise, in the middle of the conversation, we found out they're due in April, first baby for them. We are of course, super excited and wonderfully happy for them. And like all happy announcements, it's only logical that I stand in the shower crying.
You know how it is to be infertile.
It's like a Pavlovian response: pg/birth announcement ding! I'm crying in a corner somewhere. Drives me nuts. Not the announcement, but my reaction. I will of course put on a happy face, b/c, well, I am happy for them. But if I'm at home and reading it on FB or getting a phone call, inevitably, 5 minutes later, I'm a mess for a good 15 minutes and then my mood is killed for the day. Case in point, yesterday.
So why the bingo card? I teased with Ari last night we should make a bingo card of all our coupled friends and stamp them as ppl announce they're pregnant. I have no idea what the prize would be, but that's kind of what it feels like. I'm totally in that mostly married late 20's group where everyone's poppin' out babies. It's both awesome and awful. B/c, I love me some babies. It's that whole leading up to baby where all of the attention is on said couple that's the hard part. That sounds profoundly selfish when I type it, but it is what it is and I own those emotions. It's just that unspoken reminder of failure. Of loss. Of emptiness, barrenness, of holy shit I never knew I could be this jealous a woman-ness.
That random announcement definitely messed with my mood, compounding with some continued bizarre PMS-like weirdness. I've felt PMS-y since mid-January - bloating, cramps coming and going, tender boobs, and being generally crazy emotionally. I noted that my estradiol was elevated somewhat in my last round of blood work, so it seemed natural. But today is day 5 of random and persistent ovarian pain, around my right (and remaining) ovary. At first it just felt like regular cramps, but for the last 4 days it's been hovering in the 3-4 range on a pain scale of 1 to 10, and yesterday moved into the 4-5 range. It is highly likely I've got a cyst.
And that would be fucking AWESOME.
Why? Why would I be happy about a cyst?
B/c it means my ovary tried to pop out an egg! On its own! Nevermind that it got fucked up and might have made a cyst, but it maybe made an egg! This is like a freakin' miracle for a woman with POF.
Worst case scenario: it's a tumor. Why do I jump to that? That's what happened to my left ovary. (In fact, that's how I lost my left ovary.) Other worst case scenario: ectopic pregnancy. Highly unlikely though, given my gradual symptoms, and no other symptoms of early pregnancy. Best case: I'm knocked up. (Ha! Fool's hope.) What's most likely: ovarian cyst of some kind.
Either way, I hope I'll know more by this afternoon- I was able to get an urgent appointment with my GYN today at 2:30. Fingers crossed it's a cyst.
This is me, holding out hope for a cyst.
Ari got a call from a close friend of ours from grad school about some theatre related things, as these boys love to talk about. Surprise surprise, in the middle of the conversation, we found out they're due in April, first baby for them. We are of course, super excited and wonderfully happy for them. And like all happy announcements, it's only logical that I stand in the shower crying.
You know how it is to be infertile.
It's like a Pavlovian response: pg/birth announcement ding! I'm crying in a corner somewhere. Drives me nuts. Not the announcement, but my reaction. I will of course put on a happy face, b/c, well, I am happy for them. But if I'm at home and reading it on FB or getting a phone call, inevitably, 5 minutes later, I'm a mess for a good 15 minutes and then my mood is killed for the day. Case in point, yesterday.
So why the bingo card? I teased with Ari last night we should make a bingo card of all our coupled friends and stamp them as ppl announce they're pregnant. I have no idea what the prize would be, but that's kind of what it feels like. I'm totally in that mostly married late 20's group where everyone's poppin' out babies. It's both awesome and awful. B/c, I love me some babies. It's that whole leading up to baby where all of the attention is on said couple that's the hard part. That sounds profoundly selfish when I type it, but it is what it is and I own those emotions. It's just that unspoken reminder of failure. Of loss. Of emptiness, barrenness, of holy shit I never knew I could be this jealous a woman-ness.
That random announcement definitely messed with my mood, compounding with some continued bizarre PMS-like weirdness. I've felt PMS-y since mid-January - bloating, cramps coming and going, tender boobs, and being generally crazy emotionally. I noted that my estradiol was elevated somewhat in my last round of blood work, so it seemed natural. But today is day 5 of random and persistent ovarian pain, around my right (and remaining) ovary. At first it just felt like regular cramps, but for the last 4 days it's been hovering in the 3-4 range on a pain scale of 1 to 10, and yesterday moved into the 4-5 range. It is highly likely I've got a cyst.
And that would be fucking AWESOME.
Why? Why would I be happy about a cyst?
B/c it means my ovary tried to pop out an egg! On its own! Nevermind that it got fucked up and might have made a cyst, but it maybe made an egg! This is like a freakin' miracle for a woman with POF.
Worst case scenario: it's a tumor. Why do I jump to that? That's what happened to my left ovary. (In fact, that's how I lost my left ovary.) Other worst case scenario: ectopic pregnancy. Highly unlikely though, given my gradual symptoms, and no other symptoms of early pregnancy. Best case: I'm knocked up. (Ha! Fool's hope.) What's most likely: ovarian cyst of some kind.
Either way, I hope I'll know more by this afternoon- I was able to get an urgent appointment with my GYN today at 2:30. Fingers crossed it's a cyst.
This is me, holding out hope for a cyst.
January 29, 2010
Women and Falling Fertility: ABC News Article
Women and Falling Fertility: Women Lose 90 Percent of Eggs by Age 30 - ABC News
Saw this lined at Fark.com, of all places. The article is interesting. The comment thread, like any comment thread on Fark, is a disaster. Still, premature ovarian failure is a fairly uncommon diagnosis... but it makes sense why some women, if not born with enough eggs, would run out much faster. Average age of Dx for POF is 27. Go fig.
Saw this lined at Fark.com, of all places. The article is interesting. The comment thread, like any comment thread on Fark, is a disaster. Still, premature ovarian failure is a fairly uncommon diagnosis... but it makes sense why some women, if not born with enough eggs, would run out much faster. Average age of Dx for POF is 27. Go fig.
January 27, 2010
Two years and still head over heels
Yesterday Ari and I celebrated two years together. It's kind of nuts, what we've been through in the first two years of marriage already, but we've come out stronger and closer. I'm still just as in love with him as the day I walked down the aisle. We went to a lovely French bistro for dinner, and he surprised me with my anniversary gift: an edited video of our wedding! We knew we had footage of our wedding, but it disappeared among family for almost a year and a half, and finally made our way back into our hands about 6 months ago. Ari recut the footage and we watched our whole ceremony (I never realized just how long our wedding ceremony was - almost 40 minutes!) and some speeches, the Hora, and some quintessentially NJ wedding dancing (Guns N Roses Livin' on a Prayer, Journey's Don't Stop Believin, and DJ Kool's Let Me Clear My Throat). It was the first time I'd really seen anything other than our pictures, and it was fun to relive those moments that feel so long ago, but in truth, were only two years ago.
Since it was the cotton anniversary, I made us t-shirts that say Team Z---, Est. 2008. On the back of Ari's it says 01 in big athletic numbers. On mine, 02. And yes, I bought the very first item for the child I don't have: a youth sized small t-shirt. The plan? When we get there, making another Team Z shirt with a big 03 on the back. And I bought it not b/c I'm pining for an impossibility, but b/c I'm excited for the future and feeling really hopeful.
A year ago, we had just gotten back from a whirlwind 5-day tour of California (San Fran to San Diego). I had baby fever like whoa, but right after the trip, it had calmed down somewhat. You can't really fit a carseat into a 2-seater Corvette Converible and just hop on the Pacific Coast Highway on a whim. And then 2009 just went to shit.
2010 has already started on a much better note. We're still going strong, we're feeling more comfortable in our family building plans, and things on the Ari's job front have really picked up. He's got an interview next Friday, a company that reached out to him and asked him to apply, another company that's willing to create a full-time position just for him, and then the latest... well, he may as well have gotten an offer letter last Thursday, quite spontaneously. He got a one line email from a former colleague: "How do you feel about Miami?" After a very positive conversation yesterday where numbers got thrown around that weren't laughed at, things could get very interesting for us very quickly. I'm still on the fence about moving and starting over again, but if the money's good... sometimes it's worth it to sellout in the short term for long term investments.
Other good news? My lady bits are feeling like lady bits again. I'm in this constant state of feeling like I'm PMS-ing, so that's a good thing, right? Who knows what's going on down there, but for now, I'll take it.
Only one small gripe, out of all this goodness lately... I got my first "so when are you having kids" comment, ever. My sister posted a lovely status wishing Ari and I a happy anniversary, and wishing us a year filled with good things. A commenter added "And another baby!" Commenter has no clue about our situation, as far as I know. It's all good- a harmless, throwaway comment from someone I've talked to maybe twice in my life- but even after almost 11 months, it still lands weird. Had this comment been made 6 months ago, different story. I can look at this momentary gripe as a way of looking at how I've grown.
Does my diagnosis still hurt? Absolutely. Do I still wish I could have my own genetic children? Every day. But have I let my infertility consume me? Despite my IF coloring the way I look at the world, has it defined me, defeated me?
No, no it hasn't.
It's not so much that I've moved on or moved past this, rather, I've accepted it, accepted what I need to do to move forward from here, and accepted that I'm still an ok person, and that even though my life isn't going according to plan (does it ever??) I'll make it work.
And I'll come out stronger in the end.
In other news, I will hopefully find out if I'm going to be the Auntie of a neice or nephew a week from today... exciting! Spud has not been cooperating very well during u/s - Spud's a bit camera shy. My bets are on a girl. Everyone else seems to think it'll be a boy. Hopefully we'll know more in a week!
Since it was the cotton anniversary, I made us t-shirts that say Team Z---, Est. 2008. On the back of Ari's it says 01 in big athletic numbers. On mine, 02. And yes, I bought the very first item for the child I don't have: a youth sized small t-shirt. The plan? When we get there, making another Team Z shirt with a big 03 on the back. And I bought it not b/c I'm pining for an impossibility, but b/c I'm excited for the future and feeling really hopeful.
A year ago, we had just gotten back from a whirlwind 5-day tour of California (San Fran to San Diego). I had baby fever like whoa, but right after the trip, it had calmed down somewhat. You can't really fit a carseat into a 2-seater Corvette Converible and just hop on the Pacific Coast Highway on a whim. And then 2009 just went to shit.
2010 has already started on a much better note. We're still going strong, we're feeling more comfortable in our family building plans, and things on the Ari's job front have really picked up. He's got an interview next Friday, a company that reached out to him and asked him to apply, another company that's willing to create a full-time position just for him, and then the latest... well, he may as well have gotten an offer letter last Thursday, quite spontaneously. He got a one line email from a former colleague: "How do you feel about Miami?" After a very positive conversation yesterday where numbers got thrown around that weren't laughed at, things could get very interesting for us very quickly. I'm still on the fence about moving and starting over again, but if the money's good... sometimes it's worth it to sellout in the short term for long term investments.
Other good news? My lady bits are feeling like lady bits again. I'm in this constant state of feeling like I'm PMS-ing, so that's a good thing, right? Who knows what's going on down there, but for now, I'll take it.
Only one small gripe, out of all this goodness lately... I got my first "so when are you having kids" comment, ever. My sister posted a lovely status wishing Ari and I a happy anniversary, and wishing us a year filled with good things. A commenter added "And another baby!" Commenter has no clue about our situation, as far as I know. It's all good- a harmless, throwaway comment from someone I've talked to maybe twice in my life- but even after almost 11 months, it still lands weird. Had this comment been made 6 months ago, different story. I can look at this momentary gripe as a way of looking at how I've grown.
Does my diagnosis still hurt? Absolutely. Do I still wish I could have my own genetic children? Every day. But have I let my infertility consume me? Despite my IF coloring the way I look at the world, has it defined me, defeated me?
No, no it hasn't.
It's not so much that I've moved on or moved past this, rather, I've accepted it, accepted what I need to do to move forward from here, and accepted that I'm still an ok person, and that even though my life isn't going according to plan (does it ever??) I'll make it work.
And I'll come out stronger in the end.
In other news, I will hopefully find out if I'm going to be the Auntie of a neice or nephew a week from today... exciting! Spud has not been cooperating very well during u/s - Spud's a bit camera shy. My bets are on a girl. Everyone else seems to think it'll be a boy. Hopefully we'll know more in a week!
January 21, 2010
What the hell happned to January?
This happens every year. I work in higher ed, so January just vanishes. November is also notorious for just disappearing. Work has been crazy. I hate my job, I hate the people I work with... it's just a challenge to get out of bed every morning, which is extra hard when you live where you work. What's worse is I hate the field I'm in now, and I don't really know what else to be when I grow up.
Things occupying my time as of late: work. More work. Here, have a few extra hours of work tonight. Cooking, cleaning, and watching epic amounts of LOST. I'm 3/4's of the way through Season 3. Thank goodness seasons 4 & 5 are shorter. Final season premiere in less than 2 weeks. I'm so excited I could just piddle.
Latest round of bloodwork has come back. TSH is up to1.06 from 0.029 just 4 weeks ago. Free T3 is still steadily climbing. No clue if this is good or bad. Free T4 still rocking out in normal town. I am most excited about the TSH. I basically told my doctor I wasn't upping my dose (which he recommended at the end of December). I stayed on the 125 of Le.voxyl and it seems my body just needed more time to adjust to the dose. Symptomatically, I'm feeling pretty darn good.
Here's the most interesting lab that came back: my estradiol is up from 20 to 27. This is interesting b/c in the last 2 weeks, up until about 2 days ago, my boobs were sore, I've been crazy moody, and holy shit - my libido came back to nigh high school and college levels, much to Ari's happiness. I've also had intermittent discomfort in my right ovary region. It lasted about 2 days, on and off. There's a chance I could have some kind of cyst.
Or maybe *strokes imaginary beard inquisitively*... maybe the Big O happened?
...
Ahahahaha! Man, that would be crazy. Theoretically, my estradiol was in the right range, as was my LH, but my FSH is through the freakin roof (63! Highest yet, I believe.)
But we didn't take any chances, and course corrected appropriately (refer to the libido comment above.) Things I am promising myself right the hell now: no pee sticks, unless I'm hurling chunks for a few days in a row. Who knows what's going on down there. It's weird to feel all PMS-y again. I haven't really had PMS in a year... actually, about this time almost exactly a year ago. Huge PMS buildup and then... nothing. This moodiness has taken me by surprise really- I've forgotten how weird it feels. I'm bitchy, emotional, bloated... I lament about missing it for over a year and then forgot just how icky the whole menstrual cycle can be sometimes.
Maybe this is just my ovary's way of saying, "Happy New Year!" before flipping me off every time I think about trying to have my own children.
And if I really do actually get a period- a for reals, honest to goodness, no this isn't withdrawal bleeding from being the on the pill period- I'll be devastated. That could have been THE last egg.
Or maybe... maybe there's a fucking chance. Maybe my body is slowly recovering itself, having a lil Bionic Woman peptalk between thyroid and ovary, saying things like, "We can rebuild her."
Next time I meet with the doc I'll make sure to get an u/s done, just to check for cysts. It's been 6 months since my last u/s, which came back normal. But for now, I'm going to ride out these PMS-like symptoms and see where they're taking me. I hope they're takin' me to Mom Town, or at least Holy Shit You're Ovulating Ville, by way of This Would Be a Fucking Miracle Airways.
For now, I'm just flyin' standby.
Things occupying my time as of late: work. More work. Here, have a few extra hours of work tonight. Cooking, cleaning, and watching epic amounts of LOST. I'm 3/4's of the way through Season 3. Thank goodness seasons 4 & 5 are shorter. Final season premiere in less than 2 weeks. I'm so excited I could just piddle.
Latest round of bloodwork has come back. TSH is up to1.06 from 0.029 just 4 weeks ago. Free T3 is still steadily climbing. No clue if this is good or bad. Free T4 still rocking out in normal town. I am most excited about the TSH. I basically told my doctor I wasn't upping my dose (which he recommended at the end of December). I stayed on the 125 of Le.voxyl and it seems my body just needed more time to adjust to the dose. Symptomatically, I'm feeling pretty darn good.
Here's the most interesting lab that came back: my estradiol is up from 20 to 27. This is interesting b/c in the last 2 weeks, up until about 2 days ago, my boobs were sore, I've been crazy moody, and holy shit - my libido came back to nigh high school and college levels, much to Ari's happiness. I've also had intermittent discomfort in my right ovary region. It lasted about 2 days, on and off. There's a chance I could have some kind of cyst.
Or maybe *strokes imaginary beard inquisitively*... maybe the Big O happened?
...
Ahahahaha! Man, that would be crazy. Theoretically, my estradiol was in the right range, as was my LH, but my FSH is through the freakin roof (63! Highest yet, I believe.)
But we didn't take any chances, and course corrected appropriately (refer to the libido comment above.) Things I am promising myself right the hell now: no pee sticks, unless I'm hurling chunks for a few days in a row. Who knows what's going on down there. It's weird to feel all PMS-y again. I haven't really had PMS in a year... actually, about this time almost exactly a year ago. Huge PMS buildup and then... nothing. This moodiness has taken me by surprise really- I've forgotten how weird it feels. I'm bitchy, emotional, bloated... I lament about missing it for over a year and then forgot just how icky the whole menstrual cycle can be sometimes.
Maybe this is just my ovary's way of saying, "Happy New Year!" before flipping me off every time I think about trying to have my own children.
And if I really do actually get a period- a for reals, honest to goodness, no this isn't withdrawal bleeding from being the on the pill period- I'll be devastated. That could have been THE last egg.
Or maybe... maybe there's a fucking chance. Maybe my body is slowly recovering itself, having a lil Bionic Woman peptalk between thyroid and ovary, saying things like, "We can rebuild her."
Next time I meet with the doc I'll make sure to get an u/s done, just to check for cysts. It's been 6 months since my last u/s, which came back normal. But for now, I'm going to ride out these PMS-like symptoms and see where they're taking me. I hope they're takin' me to Mom Town, or at least Holy Shit You're Ovulating Ville, by way of This Would Be a Fucking Miracle Airways.
For now, I'm just flyin' standby.
January 15, 2010
Miriam's Foodie Fridays 1
Welcome to Miriam's Foodie Fridays! Since good food is better shared, Miriam's Foodie Fridays will be open to anyone on the blogosphere who'd like to participate!
How can you participate in Miriam's Foodie Fridays? It's simple!
- Snag the badge- grab the code here.
- On Friday, post to your blog a new recipe that you've made over the past week. Make sure to cite your source, if applicable.
- If you got some food porn, include that too. Everyone loves a tasty macro shot.
- Tell us how the new recipe was: was it delish? Was it a bust? Would you make it again? Dish!
- Leave a comment on the latest Foodie Fridays blog post here with a link to your post.
- Ta da! That's it :)
On a ridiculously cold night here in Boston, I wanted to warm up our bellies with a deliciously oh-so bad for you version of macaroni and cheese that's so bad for you it's almost sinful. I bring you...
I'm actually not going to repost the recipe here, so you'll have to click over to get all the details. And quite frankly, her recipe and the step-by-step picture guide is probably the most hilariously written recipe blog post I've ever read. It's totally worth the CTRL + click over.
A brief summary of the ingredients:
- 2 cups of whole milk (I used ultra pasteurized skim that tastes like 2%)
- half and half (This is where I made up for not having whole milk by using heavy cream... since I didn't have half and half)
- 2 cups of various cheeses (I ended up using vlaskas gouda, aged guyere, sharp cheddar, parmegiano reggiano, fontina, and chevre)
- caramelized onions
- bacon, sweet glorious bacon...
- ...and its decadent drippings
Bonus recipe!
Grilled Tomato Salad, by yours truly
Take a couple of ripe tomatoes and slice in half. Throw on the grill cut side down until they're done. In my case, it's the middle of winter, so I put them on a griddle/skillet/pan thingie I have, put it on high heat, and just let them cook. Create a bed of salad greens in a bowl. Whip up a little balsamic vinaigrette with balsamic vinegar and olive oil (1:1 ratio) and drizzle over salad greens. Place the grilled tomato half cut side up on bed of greens, and drizzle just a smidge of olive oil right on top of the tomato. Feel free to garnish with fresh chopped basil.
What recipe do you have to add to The Collective Cookbook for Miriam's Foodie Friday? Leave a comment on the most recent Foodie Friday post here with your link to your recipe post!
January 12, 2010
My Two Week Wait
Ha! Gotcha didn't I?
It's two weeks until my two-year wedding anniversary. It's pretty crazy to think that this time two years ago I was finalizing seating charts and making lots of illegal photocopies of wedding programs at work, and, amazingly enough, still tracking down RSVPs (we had a few stragglers).
I remember thinking- how is life going to be different? We'd already been living together for almost 4 years at the point, and dating for over 7 years at that point. We'd been engaged just shy of 2 years - I mean really, how could things be different for us?
On the morning of my wedding, at 7am, I went for a run. I am not exactly a "go for a run" kind of lady, but I put on something warm, loaded up my iPod with all sorts of girl-power tracks, and jogged/ran about 2 miles on the track at the park near my parents' house. I had a nice long conversation with myself about being a good wife to my husband, but at the same time thinking "What does that even mean?" As far as I and a lot of other people were concerned, our wedding was just a formality. Ari and I were long committed to each other - we were soulmates, we were in love - that's all a marriage needs... right?
While it didn't happen the moment we signed our ketubah, there certainly was a mental shift, a sense of both belonging and responsibility unlike that which I've felt before. Ari wasn't just the guy that helped pay half the rent anymore (to be fair though, I don't think I ever regarded him in that light; it was more to make a point). Suddenly, decisions about big purchases or jobs or whatever took on a whole new perspective; having a spouse carried a greater sense of responsibility unlike any I'd really been able to understand up until that point. I felt, curiously, like a grown up for the first time.
I went to a peer-led RESOLVE support group last week, and another woman there had a similar experience to Ari and I - female-factor, early in the marriage, Dx before TTC. She stated that she felt like her infertility has unfortunately defined so much of their marriage. In a lot of ways, I can really relate. Just a couple of months after our 1st wedding anniversary, we get handed a bombshell. And then a layoff. And then lots of other craptacular stuff that just rained down on us in 2009. But here we are, 2 weeks away from anniversary numero two, still intact, albeit a little bruised.
Amazingly, what could have driven some couples apart has managed to bring us closer together. Our marriage has never felt stronger. My friendship to my husband has never felt deeper. I used to be paranoid, in the fiancee days, that we wouldn't have anything to talk about as we grew old together. How wrong I was: we talk all the damn time, from the latest internet meme to vacation plans to deep philosophical crap on the meaning of human existence. Sometimes a conversation might just be fart noises and butt jokes. Sometimes we have these moments of complete crystal clarity: vulnerable, terrified, and desperate for validation. But always, we are there together, side by side, and ready to take on the next big adventure.
It's weird, after everything we've been through, it's hard to believe it's only two years, cuz damn, it feels like 4 or 5, easily.
It's two weeks until my two-year wedding anniversary. It's pretty crazy to think that this time two years ago I was finalizing seating charts and making lots of illegal photocopies of wedding programs at work, and, amazingly enough, still tracking down RSVPs (we had a few stragglers).
I remember thinking- how is life going to be different? We'd already been living together for almost 4 years at the point, and dating for over 7 years at that point. We'd been engaged just shy of 2 years - I mean really, how could things be different for us?
On the morning of my wedding, at 7am, I went for a run. I am not exactly a "go for a run" kind of lady, but I put on something warm, loaded up my iPod with all sorts of girl-power tracks, and jogged/ran about 2 miles on the track at the park near my parents' house. I had a nice long conversation with myself about being a good wife to my husband, but at the same time thinking "What does that even mean?" As far as I and a lot of other people were concerned, our wedding was just a formality. Ari and I were long committed to each other - we were soulmates, we were in love - that's all a marriage needs... right?
While it didn't happen the moment we signed our ketubah, there certainly was a mental shift, a sense of both belonging and responsibility unlike that which I've felt before. Ari wasn't just the guy that helped pay half the rent anymore (to be fair though, I don't think I ever regarded him in that light; it was more to make a point). Suddenly, decisions about big purchases or jobs or whatever took on a whole new perspective; having a spouse carried a greater sense of responsibility unlike any I'd really been able to understand up until that point. I felt, curiously, like a grown up for the first time.
I went to a peer-led RESOLVE support group last week, and another woman there had a similar experience to Ari and I - female-factor, early in the marriage, Dx before TTC. She stated that she felt like her infertility has unfortunately defined so much of their marriage. In a lot of ways, I can really relate. Just a couple of months after our 1st wedding anniversary, we get handed a bombshell. And then a layoff. And then lots of other craptacular stuff that just rained down on us in 2009. But here we are, 2 weeks away from anniversary numero two, still intact, albeit a little bruised.
Amazingly, what could have driven some couples apart has managed to bring us closer together. Our marriage has never felt stronger. My friendship to my husband has never felt deeper. I used to be paranoid, in the fiancee days, that we wouldn't have anything to talk about as we grew old together. How wrong I was: we talk all the damn time, from the latest internet meme to vacation plans to deep philosophical crap on the meaning of human existence. Sometimes a conversation might just be fart noises and butt jokes. Sometimes we have these moments of complete crystal clarity: vulnerable, terrified, and desperate for validation. But always, we are there together, side by side, and ready to take on the next big adventure.
It's weird, after everything we've been through, it's hard to believe it's only two years, cuz damn, it feels like 4 or 5, easily.
January 8, 2010
Miriam's Foodie Fridays!
I'm starting a new tradition here at HWSL: Miriam's Foodie Fridays! As part of my New Year's resolutions (I'll have a nice long post about those this weekend), I want to cook a new recipe at least once a week for the entire year. I want to share that recipe, along with some serious food porn shots of the cooking process and end results, along with my reviews, here on the web for you to a) drool over and b) hopefully try on your own! Since good food is better shared, Miriam's Foodie Fridays will be open to anyone on the blogosphere who'd like to participate!
How can you participate in Miriam's Foodie Fridays? It's simple!
- Snag the badge- grab the code here.
- On Friday, post to your blog a new recipe that you've made over the past week. Make sure to cite your source, if applicable.
- If you got some food porn, include that too. Everyone loves a tasty macro shot.
- Tell us how the new recipe was: was it delish? Was it a bust? Would you make it again? Dish!
- Leave a comment on the latest Foodie Fridays blog post here with a link to your post.
- Ta da! That's it :)
And the inaugural recipe?
Smoked Paprika Roasted Salmon with Wilted Spinach
Ingredients
1/4 cup orange juice
2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon olive oil, divided
2 teaspoons dried thyme Leaves , divided
2 pounds salmon fillets
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon Paprika, Smoked
1 teaspoon Cinnamon
1 teaspoon grated orange peel
1/2 teaspoon Sea Salt (unground)
1 bag(10 ounces) fresh spinach leaves
Directions
1. Mix orange juice, 2 tablespoons of the oil and 1 teaspoon of the thyme in small bowl. Place salmon in glass dish. Add marinade; turn to coat. Cover. Refrigerate 30 minutes or longer for extra flavor.
2. Preheat oven to 400°F. Mix brown sugar, smoked paprika, cinnamon, orange peel, remaining 1 teaspoon thyme and sea salt in small bowl. Remove salmon from marinade. Place in greased foil-lined baking pan. Discard any remaining marinade.
3. Rub top of salmon evenly with smoked paprika mixture. Roast 10 to 15 minutes or until fish flakes easily with a fork.
4. Meanwhile, heat remaining 1 teaspoon oil in large skillet on medium heat. Add spinach; cook 2 minutes or until wilted. Serve salmon over spinach.
Source: TheNest.com (link to recipe here).
Paired with a lil homemade garlic bread, and accompanied only by the finest Virgil's root beer. Candles optional.
This recipe was really a hit Thursday night! I thought 10oz of spinach would be too much, but I ended up using an entire 5oz box of baby spinach. It was just the right amount of spinach to the portion of fish. I used a little bit too much of the rub - I forgot I was only working with 1.5lbs of salmon, so I thought I needed to use all the extra rub. Smoked paprika is fantastic - the smokey, earthy flavor reminds me of campfires and autumn; it's delicious. A tip: mash up the dried thyme in your hands before adding to the marinade and rub to release the oils. If you use a salt grinder like I do, don't grind the sea salt. The crunch and texture of the salt is a nice contrast to the soft give of the salmon and the softness of the spinach. The richness of the rub would actually pair really nicely with a spicy red wine, but alas, it was root beer tonight.
What recipe do you have to add to The Collective Cookbook for Miriam's Foodie Friday? Leave a comment on the most recent Foodie Friday post here with your link to your recipe post!
Also, feel free to snag the handy dandy sidebar badge below:
January 6, 2010
A donor for your thoughts.
Please indicate your preference:
hair color, eye color, location, highest education received, religion, race, ethnicity, height, etc.
My future child is being determined by a basic sort formula in Excel.
. . .
Ari and I have begun to look at donors. We're not committing, by any stretch of the imagination. But at the suggestion of my therapist, it's more of an exercise in making this more real, in moving beyond grief and into action. Dr. S warned me that some couples can get really hung up on the donor selection process. After perusing a few databases online, I can see why.
It's fucking weird choosing a donor. There is no gentle, eloquent way to say that.
Sometimes I browse on my own, pick a handful here and there. Different things stick out for me: race, hair and eye color, religion (b/c a Jewish donor would make life so much easier in terms of conversion issues). Then I might read about how they're musically inclined, artistic, or well-traveled.
What the hell does a well-traveled donor have to do with who my future child will grow up to be? Very little, other than increased donor exposure to foreign illness and such, but otherwise, not so much. But it's weird how reading that lil tidbit fact about a donor suddenly makes her more attractive.
Speaking of attractive... why do I keep picking pretty donors? And when Ari picks out a donor he likes, and she's obviously quite attractive, why do a get a little pang of jealousy? Or worse, when he picks a donor I don't think is attractive, I say to myself: "Am I in that same class of women? Am I that unattractive too?" I start looking at myself through the lens of my husband, and I feel like I look like a very different person.
Choosing an egg donor opens up whole new body image wounds you didn't even know where there. I've come a LONG way in my body image issues. Am I obese? Yes, by BMI standards. Do I look it? Not really - I hide it well. I'm finally at the "I don't really care, so long as I'm not morbidly obese or generally unhealthy." But all of a sudden, when I'm browsing profiles of women weighing in their 120s, I get very self-conscious about my extra weight.
When we went to the RESOLVE Conference in November, we went to a really helpful panel discussion on adoption vs. donor egg. There were two DE recipients there. One Japanese woman was totally focused on getting a Japanese donor. In the end, she settled for Korean, b/c it was close enough. The other woman originally looked for donors that looked like her, had the same interests, but ended up going with a woman who looks nothing like her and with totally different interests. She used the DE as an opportunity to bring new traits- physical and character- into her family. A neat concept and a brave choice.
It's a bizarre state to be in: making judgements about women I've never met, like some distorted beauty contest. Instead of a swimsuit category, I'm judging the profile pictures they chose. Instead of an interview, I'm reading detailed medical histories. Instead of the Congeniality Award, I'm reading donor statements. And do I place oddly-out-of-context-for-me judgements? Absolutely. Weird trend I've noticed: several donors I've seen have had abortions. And for some reason, this sits weirdly with me. Which is odd, b/c I'm lil Miss Pro-Choice. The whole thing is just surreal.
I'm glad we've got some time before we need to commit to anything, because choosing an egg donor is probably the strangest, most emotionally confusing thing I've ever had to do. I mean, think about it: I'm picking another woman with whom my husband will make a baby.
Fucking weird.
hair color, eye color, location, highest education received, religion, race, ethnicity, height, etc.
My future child is being determined by a basic sort formula in Excel.
. . .
Ari and I have begun to look at donors. We're not committing, by any stretch of the imagination. But at the suggestion of my therapist, it's more of an exercise in making this more real, in moving beyond grief and into action. Dr. S warned me that some couples can get really hung up on the donor selection process. After perusing a few databases online, I can see why.
It's fucking weird choosing a donor. There is no gentle, eloquent way to say that.
Sometimes I browse on my own, pick a handful here and there. Different things stick out for me: race, hair and eye color, religion (b/c a Jewish donor would make life so much easier in terms of conversion issues). Then I might read about how they're musically inclined, artistic, or well-traveled.
What the hell does a well-traveled donor have to do with who my future child will grow up to be? Very little, other than increased donor exposure to foreign illness and such, but otherwise, not so much. But it's weird how reading that lil tidbit fact about a donor suddenly makes her more attractive.
Speaking of attractive... why do I keep picking pretty donors? And when Ari picks out a donor he likes, and she's obviously quite attractive, why do a get a little pang of jealousy? Or worse, when he picks a donor I don't think is attractive, I say to myself: "Am I in that same class of women? Am I that unattractive too?" I start looking at myself through the lens of my husband, and I feel like I look like a very different person.
Choosing an egg donor opens up whole new body image wounds you didn't even know where there. I've come a LONG way in my body image issues. Am I obese? Yes, by BMI standards. Do I look it? Not really - I hide it well. I'm finally at the "I don't really care, so long as I'm not morbidly obese or generally unhealthy." But all of a sudden, when I'm browsing profiles of women weighing in their 120s, I get very self-conscious about my extra weight.
When we went to the RESOLVE Conference in November, we went to a really helpful panel discussion on adoption vs. donor egg. There were two DE recipients there. One Japanese woman was totally focused on getting a Japanese donor. In the end, she settled for Korean, b/c it was close enough. The other woman originally looked for donors that looked like her, had the same interests, but ended up going with a woman who looks nothing like her and with totally different interests. She used the DE as an opportunity to bring new traits- physical and character- into her family. A neat concept and a brave choice.
It's a bizarre state to be in: making judgements about women I've never met, like some distorted beauty contest. Instead of a swimsuit category, I'm judging the profile pictures they chose. Instead of an interview, I'm reading detailed medical histories. Instead of the Congeniality Award, I'm reading donor statements. And do I place oddly-out-of-context-for-me judgements? Absolutely. Weird trend I've noticed: several donors I've seen have had abortions. And for some reason, this sits weirdly with me. Which is odd, b/c I'm lil Miss Pro-Choice. The whole thing is just surreal.
I'm glad we've got some time before we need to commit to anything, because choosing an egg donor is probably the strangest, most emotionally confusing thing I've ever had to do. I mean, think about it: I'm picking another woman with whom my husband will make a baby.
Fucking weird.
My First Blog Award!
Presented to me by Sara over at Life Goes On. I had no idea I had won until I did a lil vanity searching recently :) Thanks so much Sara, I'm touched and honored!
The Rules:
- Share 7 things that you don't already know about me.
- Name 7 other blogs to receive this award.
- Leave a comment on each of the blogs I nominated.
- Thank the person who gave you the award.
7 Things About Me
- My favorite books include: Brave New World, House of Leaves, Kafka on the Shore, The Red Tent, Haunted, Atonement, and The Little Prince.
- I have watched the sun rise over the Reflecting Pond from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and have seen the sun set over the Pacific Ocean along the Pacific Coast Highway, somewhere between Big Sur and Cayucos.
- Things I have eaten raw: crab, squid, abelone, tuna, salmon, mackerel, sea urchin.
- I have a knack for crafting and pick up on new crafts fairly quickly. My newest venture? Jewelry making. It's easy, it's fun, and if I get good enough at it, I can sell it.
- (Click the links for neat places I've actually been to in all of these states/countries.) I have visited the following states: New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York, Maryland, Virginia, South Carolina, Florida, Massachusetts, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Wisconsin, Nevada (I'm counting the 2 hours I spent in Las Vegas on a layover - I played a slot machine, it counts), and California. I have visited the following countries: Bahamas, Canada, Iceland (again, counting a 4-hour layover in Reykjavík), France, Japan.
- I have been a vivid dreamer all of my life, and keep dream journals. I have recently delved into lucid dreaming with great success. I have several recurring dream symbols: bridges, oceans, tornadoes, being chased, carnivals and museums, the NJ Boardwalk, and recurring several recurring dreamscapes, particularly surrounding the neighborhood I grew up. If I really put my mind to it, I could map my entire recurrent dreamscape if I wanted to.
- I am a closet professional wrestling fan. The Big Show is my favorite wrestler, followed closely by The Undertaker and HBK. I don't follow it as much as I used to a few years ago, but I start caring once the Royal Rumble happens, and definitely try to clue in before Wrestlemania each year.
7 Other Blogs to Receive this Award!
- Jo at MoJo Working: Witty and razor sharp; I've enjoyed her writing style and perspective on life. She is going through a loss right now, so please direct all your love and energy to her and her husband as they go through this tough time.
- Fertility Chick: A blog I've started reading recently - dealing with PCOS and male factor. Found her via Twitter.
- Bella at Bella and Her Fella: One of the first POF blogs I found- she's now pg with twins (and due fairly soon, I believe). She gives me a lot of hope about finding parenthood despite POF.
- Kate of Busted Plumbing: This is probably the spunkiest blogs I've come across so far, and I love it. Another Twitter find.
- Die Frau Ohne Schatten (The Woman Without a Shadow): She's been MIA since a miscarriage mid-last year, and I'm hoping my blog award will coax her back into the blogosphere.
- IVF and the Newlywed: Props to a fellow Bostonian, who's also started a lovely gathering call the Ruby Feather Social Club. I'm still working up the nerve to actually check them out in person instead of lurking/following the idea on the internet.
- And my last award goes to Gil over at The Hardest Quest. This one is special to me. I met Gil over on LiveJournal, in one of the infertility communities. I put one of those "omg how do you cope with the pain?" questions out there, and Gil suggested I try blogging. She pointed me to her blog, and through hers I found so many others, and discovered the huge ALI blogosphere in just a matter of days. Pretty soon, I was bold enough to start my own. After years of struggling with IF, Gil is now a proud Maman to a 4-month-old daughter.
January 4, 2010
Two dichotomous posts on parenting
Two quick stories I wanted to share with two interesting takes on the limits of parenthood.
1. A truly disturbing story from my current home state of Massachusetts: Mother of 9 claims she was sterilized against her will.
My quick take: Appalling, illegal, downright immoral. This story challenges us to think about the right to parent, and about basic reproductive rights.
2. A more uplifting story from CNN: 'Unadoptable' as child, man gets new parents.
Just two interesting stories I wanted to throw out there. More updates this week.
1. A truly disturbing story from my current home state of Massachusetts: Mother of 9 claims she was sterilized against her will.
Savicki acknowledged that some may feel little sympathy for her situation, but cautioned against public judgment because she is a poor, unmarried mother of 9.“I would never have the right to tell anyone else ‘because you have this many kids that’s enough,’ ” she said. “That’s no one’s right to say that. It’s my choice. No one has the right to say you’ve had enough.
My quick take: Appalling, illegal, downright immoral. This story challenges us to think about the right to parent, and about basic reproductive rights.
2. A more uplifting story from CNN: 'Unadoptable' as child, man gets new parents.
John decided he was tired of spending Christmas and birthdays alone. He realized, even as an adult, that he still needed parents to provide him advice -- and compassion. He wanted a family of his own.My quick take: Even at the age of 23, a "child" found a family. Adult adoptions are pretty rare in the U.S., but this article challenges us to reconsider our traditional definitions of family, parenthood, and a sense of belonging and human compassion for your fellow man.
Just two interesting stories I wanted to throw out there. More updates this week.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)