Out with the old,
In with the new.
Two thousand nine,
I wash my hands of you.
Onward and UP!ward.
A blessed New Year to you all.
December 31, 2009
December 29, 2009
A letter to MA State Senator Scott Brown
I received an action alert email from a donor agency that Ari and I have been using to browse donor profiles. We haven't selected a donor, but it's a nice exercise in getting us at least mentally prepared for DE/IVF. The email linked to an article in yesterday's Boston Globe, where Senator Scott Brown, currently running for Republicans in next week's special election for the late Kennedy's US Senate seat, has said that he intends to propose legislation that would no longer require MA insurance companies to cover IVF. The key paragraph from the article is below:
As usual, this got me fired up, and I fired off an email to Senator Brown directly. If you live in MA, I urge you to do the same: his email is Scott.P.Brown@state.ma.us.
Dear Senator Brown,
I recently read in yesterday's Globe (http://www.boston.com/news/
As an elected official in Massachusetts, infertility affects over 150,000 of your constituents, according to the CDC’s 2002 National Survey of Family Growth. Yet, this isn’t something that we would necessarily write to you about. For many of us, we won’t even share these concerns outside of our closest family and friends. Some of us never find the words or the ways to share it with others, and live with a deeply stressful, private struggle. I, however, have chosen to remain silent no longer, and have channeled my fear and frustration into advocacy for an issue about which I deeply care.
Senator Brown, allow me to share my story with you, so that you may understand why insurance coverage for IVF is so important. Nine months ago, I began having symptoms wildly atypical for an otherwise healthy 26 year old woman in her childbearing years. My husband and I had no plans for children until a few years from now, once we were more settled financially. Taking the proactive approach about these strange symptoms, I sought out my doctor, who delivered a bombshell of a diagnosis: premature ovarian failure (POF). Formerly known as premature menopause, my reproductive system as essentially shut down, in a process I shouldn't be experiencing for another two decades. At 26 years old, I had lost my ability to be able to have my own children. At 26 years old, I was married for just over a year and had no plans to even start trying to have children for another two to three years, and I was told I would never be able to achieve pregnancy naturally. The only hope of building a family, I was told, as I sat there speechless and shell-shocked in my doctor's office, was to use donor eggs in conjunction with IVF or to pursue adoption.
It has been a wild year as my husband and I have been completely rethinking everything we thought we knew about how we would build a family together. Just days after my diagnosis, my husband was laid off. We moved quickly to transfer insurance coverage through my employer. As we began researching our options further, IVF has appeared more fiscally lucrative to our situation, particularly on one income right now. Dollar for dollar, IVF and domestic adoption cost about the same, in the $30,000 range. What has made IVF particularly attractive is that currently in the state of Massachusetts, that cost is nearly cut in half thanks to the state-mandated infertility coverage regulations.
Every decision my husband and I have made about our careers in the last nine months has been centered on the fact that we need to remain in Massachusetts, because of the very coverage that's in place. Senator Brown, if you propose legislation that would discontinue coverage for IVF, I simply cannot afford to have children, IVF or otherwise. This legislation would take away my ability to a basic human right: the right to build a family. The next best solution for us would be to uproot and move to another state with the next best health care regulations in place (in this case, New Jersey or Connecticut). In this economy, looking for a new job isn't easy, to put it plainly: just ask my husband, who is still unemployed after nearly a year since being laid off. How can this be something you endorse - legislation that denies individuals the right to build families or drives them out of the state to find appropriate coverage?
Senator Brown, I implore you not pursue this change in legislation. As a candidate for the Senate seat left by the late Honorable Ted Kennedy, it seems contrary to the legacy of progressive health care reform and support left in his passing.
In the Boston Globe article you state, "My primary responsibility is to ensure that the people of Massachusetts get the best value for their dollar." How can this be possible when you intend to propose cutting the coverage upon which the people of Massachusetts depend? Perhaps your rationale is that these procedures, like mammograms and minimum maternity stay lengths (as you also intend to propose coverage reductions), aren't relevant to the entire population of the state. Perhaps infertile women and couples, women at risk for breast cancer, and new mothers make up only a small portion of your constituents, despite the fact that 3.2 million women make up 52% of the state’s population. A reduction in these vital services is quite plainly cutting off the nose despite the face.
Senator Brown, I urge you to reconsider your position on health care coverage reduction in the state of Massachusetts, and I encourage you to contact RESOLVE, the National Infertility Association (www.resolve.org) or its regional chapter here in Waltham, RESOLVE of the Bay State (www.resolveofthebaystate.org) for more information about why infertility coverage matters. I also welcome the opportunity to discuss this issue personally with you and your staff.
Senator Brown, I don't want to feel like my chances of having a family are being taken away from me for a second time.
Best,
Miriam
Brown also said he was filing legislation in Massachusetts to ease regulations on insurance companies, which he said have driven up costs. He said companies should not be required to cover so many different medical services, including in vitro fertilization.Coakley's campaign this afternoon attacked the bill, saying it would allow the removal of mandated insurance coverage for things such as mammograms, minimum maternity stays for new mothers, and hospice care for seniors.
As usual, this got me fired up, and I fired off an email to Senator Brown directly. If you live in MA, I urge you to do the same: his email is Scott.P.Brown@state.ma.us.
Dear Senator Brown,
I recently read in yesterday's Globe (http://www.boston.com/news/
As an elected official in Massachusetts, infertility affects over 150,000 of your constituents, according to the CDC’s 2002 National Survey of Family Growth. Yet, this isn’t something that we would necessarily write to you about. For many of us, we won’t even share these concerns outside of our closest family and friends. Some of us never find the words or the ways to share it with others, and live with a deeply stressful, private struggle. I, however, have chosen to remain silent no longer, and have channeled my fear and frustration into advocacy for an issue about which I deeply care.
Senator Brown, allow me to share my story with you, so that you may understand why insurance coverage for IVF is so important. Nine months ago, I began having symptoms wildly atypical for an otherwise healthy 26 year old woman in her childbearing years. My husband and I had no plans for children until a few years from now, once we were more settled financially. Taking the proactive approach about these strange symptoms, I sought out my doctor, who delivered a bombshell of a diagnosis: premature ovarian failure (POF). Formerly known as premature menopause, my reproductive system as essentially shut down, in a process I shouldn't be experiencing for another two decades. At 26 years old, I had lost my ability to be able to have my own children. At 26 years old, I was married for just over a year and had no plans to even start trying to have children for another two to three years, and I was told I would never be able to achieve pregnancy naturally. The only hope of building a family, I was told, as I sat there speechless and shell-shocked in my doctor's office, was to use donor eggs in conjunction with IVF or to pursue adoption.
It has been a wild year as my husband and I have been completely rethinking everything we thought we knew about how we would build a family together. Just days after my diagnosis, my husband was laid off. We moved quickly to transfer insurance coverage through my employer. As we began researching our options further, IVF has appeared more fiscally lucrative to our situation, particularly on one income right now. Dollar for dollar, IVF and domestic adoption cost about the same, in the $30,000 range. What has made IVF particularly attractive is that currently in the state of Massachusetts, that cost is nearly cut in half thanks to the state-mandated infertility coverage regulations.
Every decision my husband and I have made about our careers in the last nine months has been centered on the fact that we need to remain in Massachusetts, because of the very coverage that's in place. Senator Brown, if you propose legislation that would discontinue coverage for IVF, I simply cannot afford to have children, IVF or otherwise. This legislation would take away my ability to a basic human right: the right to build a family. The next best solution for us would be to uproot and move to another state with the next best health care regulations in place (in this case, New Jersey or Connecticut). In this economy, looking for a new job isn't easy, to put it plainly: just ask my husband, who is still unemployed after nearly a year since being laid off. How can this be something you endorse - legislation that denies individuals the right to build families or drives them out of the state to find appropriate coverage?
Senator Brown, I implore you not pursue this change in legislation. As a candidate for the Senate seat left by the late Honorable Ted Kennedy, it seems contrary to the legacy of progressive health care reform and support left in his passing.
In the Boston Globe article you state, "My primary responsibility is to ensure that the people of Massachusetts get the best value for their dollar." How can this be possible when you intend to propose cutting the coverage upon which the people of Massachusetts depend? Perhaps your rationale is that these procedures, like mammograms and minimum maternity stay lengths (as you also intend to propose coverage reductions), aren't relevant to the entire population of the state. Perhaps infertile women and couples, women at risk for breast cancer, and new mothers make up only a small portion of your constituents, despite the fact that 3.2 million women make up 52% of the state’s population. A reduction in these vital services is quite plainly cutting off the nose despite the face.
Senator Brown, I urge you to reconsider your position on health care coverage reduction in the state of Massachusetts, and I encourage you to contact RESOLVE, the National Infertility Association (www.resolve.org) or its regional chapter here in Waltham, RESOLVE of the Bay State (www.resolveofthebaystate.org) for more information about why infertility coverage matters. I also welcome the opportunity to discuss this issue personally with you and your staff.
Senator Brown, I don't want to feel like my chances of having a family are being taken away from me for a second time.
Best,
Miriam
December 21, 2009
Dear Thyroid: You suck.
My appointment with Dr. G was a disaster. Despite the dosage increase, symptomatically, I've felt the worst I've felt so far (horrendous brain fog, lethargy, sleepiness, coldness in hands and feet - the usual). And yet the numbers say the inverse: my TSH was 0.024 - well in the hyperthyroid range. This is apparently common for folks with Hashi's - they can yo-yo between hypo- and hyperthyroid. Given the random spurts of racing heart rates and palpitations over the last month, and the recent crazy bouts of insomnia I'm dealing with, I knew this was going to happen. I have all the classic signs of a "thyroiditis flare up."
Basically, my thyroid is losing its damn mind, as indicated by the graph below. My TSH levels are in blue:
Dr. G has again prescribed a dosage increase (up to 137 mcg now) and has moved me to Synthroid instead of Levoxyl. The difference between the drugs is minimal, but perhaps my body might prefer one over another. It's like the difference between a Honda and a Toyota - they're both good Japanese cars, but some people just like one over the other (for the record, I'm a Honda girl and Ari is a Toyota boy).
My T3 has also been steadily climbing with each dosage adjustment. I need to go back and do some basic primer reading on T3 and T4 levels and what the hell they mean, b/c I just can't remember. This thyroid stuff is complicated and confusing.
I thought that perhaps Dr. G is moving a bit too conservatively, so I thought by telling a little white lie I might move things along more aggressively. I mentioned that Ari and I were earnestly moving forward with DE/IVF in the next six months (really, prolly not for another year), so let's get my body in shape to make that happen. The most aggressive thing he did was send me to the lab for 5 vials of blood and tons of bloodwork: vitamin D, folic acid, estrogen & progesterone (I think), cholesterol, hemoglobin A1C (glucose over time), and a host of other tests. I spent a half hour in the lab, b/c once again, my notorious thin/spongey/rolling veins played their little games and it took 3 sticks, 2 cups of water, and lots of fist pumping and overly tight tourniquets to be able to actually fill any of the 5 vials needed. It didn't help that the phlebotomist slipped when undoing the tourniquet and pulling out the needle and missed hitting the puncture wound with the gauze, sending a spurt of blood high into the air and almost all over my shirt (it did get all over my arm, her glove, and the tourniquet itself). I almost hit the floor - I just don't do blood, my own or otherwise.
It's been 8 months and I have little to show for it - I'm the heaviest I've ever been in my life, I feel miserable, and oh yeah, can't have my own kids. I hate feeling like a prisoner in my own body. I hate knowing that I used to be 118 lbs just 9 years ago, could do a two-hour performance singing and dancing with only a minor asthma attack afterward, and I looked good. I looked healthy. My periods were regular, albeit artificial with birth control, and my sex drive was almost criminal.
Cut to me now: 186 lbs (I only gained a pound since my last appointment, but I just feel a lot heavier), wheezing just going up a flight of stairs, not to mention the joint pain in my knees (another side effect of Hashi's - joint paint), and the worst acne of my life, a generally puffy face in addition to my double chin (another Hashi's side effect), premature ovarian failure, and a sex drive that comes and goes, and never with any great fanfare. It's practically a passing thought that I try to actually respond to once in a while.
I hate knowing that I could do so much more if I just had the energy, if I just had a body that would cooperate with me for more than a couple of weeks at a time. I hate getting stuck with needle after needle, praying that maybe this time- this time- my TSH will be in the optimal range and I can stick with one dosage for more than 6 weeks at a time. I hate feeling physically a lot older than 27. I hate looking in the mirror at myself and thinking, Miriam, what the fuck happened to you in the last decade? Where did that spunky spry go-get-em girl disappear to?
While I'm still coping with infertility, realistically, my bigger issue right now is my thyroid. I desperately need to find some Hashimoto's or Hashi's w/POF blogs out there. If anyone has any recommendations, I'd love them. It's so frustrating to know that I can't even begin to address any of the infertility until my thyroid chills the fuck out... I told Ari at lunch today, it almost seems like we should just start the adoption process now b/c I'm sure that will move faster than trying to get my body ready for IVF.
I'm tired of feeling like everything in my life is perpetually on hold right now.
Basically, my thyroid is losing its damn mind, as indicated by the graph below. My TSH levels are in blue:
Dr. G has again prescribed a dosage increase (up to 137 mcg now) and has moved me to Synthroid instead of Levoxyl. The difference between the drugs is minimal, but perhaps my body might prefer one over another. It's like the difference between a Honda and a Toyota - they're both good Japanese cars, but some people just like one over the other (for the record, I'm a Honda girl and Ari is a Toyota boy).
My T3 has also been steadily climbing with each dosage adjustment. I need to go back and do some basic primer reading on T3 and T4 levels and what the hell they mean, b/c I just can't remember. This thyroid stuff is complicated and confusing.
I thought that perhaps Dr. G is moving a bit too conservatively, so I thought by telling a little white lie I might move things along more aggressively. I mentioned that Ari and I were earnestly moving forward with DE/IVF in the next six months (really, prolly not for another year), so let's get my body in shape to make that happen. The most aggressive thing he did was send me to the lab for 5 vials of blood and tons of bloodwork: vitamin D, folic acid, estrogen & progesterone (I think), cholesterol, hemoglobin A1C (glucose over time), and a host of other tests. I spent a half hour in the lab, b/c once again, my notorious thin/spongey/rolling veins played their little games and it took 3 sticks, 2 cups of water, and lots of fist pumping and overly tight tourniquets to be able to actually fill any of the 5 vials needed. It didn't help that the phlebotomist slipped when undoing the tourniquet and pulling out the needle and missed hitting the puncture wound with the gauze, sending a spurt of blood high into the air and almost all over my shirt (it did get all over my arm, her glove, and the tourniquet itself). I almost hit the floor - I just don't do blood, my own or otherwise.
It's been 8 months and I have little to show for it - I'm the heaviest I've ever been in my life, I feel miserable, and oh yeah, can't have my own kids. I hate feeling like a prisoner in my own body. I hate knowing that I used to be 118 lbs just 9 years ago, could do a two-hour performance singing and dancing with only a minor asthma attack afterward, and I looked good. I looked healthy. My periods were regular, albeit artificial with birth control, and my sex drive was almost criminal.
Cut to me now: 186 lbs (I only gained a pound since my last appointment, but I just feel a lot heavier), wheezing just going up a flight of stairs, not to mention the joint pain in my knees (another side effect of Hashi's - joint paint), and the worst acne of my life, a generally puffy face in addition to my double chin (another Hashi's side effect), premature ovarian failure, and a sex drive that comes and goes, and never with any great fanfare. It's practically a passing thought that I try to actually respond to once in a while.
I hate knowing that I could do so much more if I just had the energy, if I just had a body that would cooperate with me for more than a couple of weeks at a time. I hate getting stuck with needle after needle, praying that maybe this time- this time- my TSH will be in the optimal range and I can stick with one dosage for more than 6 weeks at a time. I hate feeling physically a lot older than 27. I hate looking in the mirror at myself and thinking, Miriam, what the fuck happened to you in the last decade? Where did that spunky spry go-get-em girl disappear to?
While I'm still coping with infertility, realistically, my bigger issue right now is my thyroid. I desperately need to find some Hashimoto's or Hashi's w/POF blogs out there. If anyone has any recommendations, I'd love them. It's so frustrating to know that I can't even begin to address any of the infertility until my thyroid chills the fuck out... I told Ari at lunch today, it almost seems like we should just start the adoption process now b/c I'm sure that will move faster than trying to get my body ready for IVF.
I'm tired of feeling like everything in my life is perpetually on hold right now.
December 20, 2009
CD365
You read that right: tonight marks Cycle Day 365... it's officially been a year since the start of my last period. I can't believe it's been a whole year already. CDs 1-4 were regular heavy flow and then... nothing. I thought for sure on CD15 I was ovulating - mittelschmerz and everything but alas, the end of January came and went... nothing. February... nothing. By mid-March I figured maybe I should have the doc take a look. Dr. E (aka, Dr. Skinny Bitch) assured me it was stress. Oh, and being overweight. Something about excess estrogen being stored in my fat cells. "But if you're really worried, go see Dr. G (my current RE) b/c I don't really see anything wrong. It's perfectly normal for periods not to return for several months following the cessation of birth control."
So I met with Dr. G and he ordered 7 vials of blood to be drawn. We both thought it was PCOS and a nasty hypothyroid problem. Turns out it was POF and Hashi's. March 18 of next year will be a year since my diagnosis. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Right now, I'm mostly buzzed, from 2 beers and a Snickers-tini from a bar downtown.
. . .
Tonight we celebrated Ari's 28th birthday. It's actually tomorrow (my lil Solstice baby) but he has a Mason's meeting and I have Red Tent Temple, so we braved the foot or so of snow downtown and went out for drinks and wings. A lot of people bailed, but understandably so - the snow and freezing temps nearly kept us at home.
We spent a night this weekend in Stockbridge, MA, at the Red Lion Inn. A picturesque little town, home of Norman Rockwell... it was a nice one-night getaway just to take us away from everything. We spent time visiting family friends of Ari's (they go to the Red Lion every Christmas) and they got us a room. We had a lovely dinner (I had the maple braised pork lion, Ari had the elk tenderloin), and enjoyed an evening of experimental jazz funk in the bar downstairs. (Surprisingly, the band was actually really neat.) We slept in the most comfortable bed ever, and managed to avoid even a single flake fall on the town of Stockbridge - a narrow strip of western MA managed to avoid this entire nor'easter. By the time we got home today, we didn't hit any snow falling and the roads were all cleared.
. . .
On the eve of the new moon, Rosh Chodesh, and more importantly, the Winter Solstice... I'm left contemplative.
So I met with Dr. G and he ordered 7 vials of blood to be drawn. We both thought it was PCOS and a nasty hypothyroid problem. Turns out it was POF and Hashi's. March 18 of next year will be a year since my diagnosis. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Right now, I'm mostly buzzed, from 2 beers and a Snickers-tini from a bar downtown.
. . .
Tonight we celebrated Ari's 28th birthday. It's actually tomorrow (my lil Solstice baby) but he has a Mason's meeting and I have Red Tent Temple, so we braved the foot or so of snow downtown and went out for drinks and wings. A lot of people bailed, but understandably so - the snow and freezing temps nearly kept us at home.
We spent a night this weekend in Stockbridge, MA, at the Red Lion Inn. A picturesque little town, home of Norman Rockwell... it was a nice one-night getaway just to take us away from everything. We spent time visiting family friends of Ari's (they go to the Red Lion every Christmas) and they got us a room. We had a lovely dinner (I had the maple braised pork lion, Ari had the elk tenderloin), and enjoyed an evening of experimental jazz funk in the bar downstairs. (Surprisingly, the band was actually really neat.) We slept in the most comfortable bed ever, and managed to avoid even a single flake fall on the town of Stockbridge - a narrow strip of western MA managed to avoid this entire nor'easter. By the time we got home today, we didn't hit any snow falling and the roads were all cleared.
. . .
On the eve of the new moon, Rosh Chodesh, and more importantly, the Winter Solstice... I'm left contemplative.
December 17, 2009
Brief Updates on Life
Sitting in the BWI airport, waiting to fly home. Ari's great-aunt passed away Tuesday and we drove down from MA to NJ Wednesday night and then from NJ to MD for the funeral. I have to be at work tomorrow, so I'm flying back tonight and he's driving back in the late morning tomorrow. Aunt B's funeral was really just... hauntingly beautiful and serene. My heart breaks every time I think of Uncle N: 61 beautiful years of marriage. Ari and I lived near them when we lived in MD and made it a point to visit when we could. It was not unexpected; she was given a year to live six years ago, but she declined sharply in the last 6 months. It's just very sad, and another thing I can add to the "Things That Sucked in 2009" List. It's a long list.
On a lighter note: my sister's 2nd ultrasound went well. Things are going swimmingly for Otter and her Spud. I am excited to see her at Christmas. So far, no need for an amniocentisis, and that's wonderful news given her age.
Work is... work. It's a paycheck, housing and health insurance at this point. I have come to the firm decision I will no longer be a doormat to my bully of a supervisor, and quite frankly, I'm a better person than my supervisor and will not let my supervisor win. Bullying is not a management style- it's a personality flaw, and I'm simply not going to take the passive-aggressive bullshit anymore. I'm digging in my heels and ready to fight the fight, if need be.
Ari's been applying for some more full-time work since he knows how unhappy I am at my job. He's got two apps out right now, so if you can put the good vibes out there in the universe for him, it would be much appreciated. Also... his birthday is Monday! It'll be the 12th birthday of his I've spent with him... nuts. I have some serious shopping I need to do before then :)
On the IF front... I've been much more open to the idea of adoption rather spontaneously in the last few days. Not sure why, but maybe I'm not meant to be pg. I really worry about whether or not I could successfully carry a pregnancy to term - just a weird gut feeling I've had in the last couple of weeks. As much as it would be a healing process for me, I just don't know if it's a realistic goal. DE/IVF is scary, just in terms of what you have to go through medically, and I don't know if physically, I'm really up for that. And if it failed, or worse yet, I miscarried... the emotional and financial damage could be irreparable.
I have a regular 6-week thyroid checkup on Monday with my RE. I'm not looking forward to it. Despite the dosage increase over the last 6 weeks, symptomatically, I feel worse. I had my b/w done yesterday (with a juicy lookin bruise on my hand... I look like a junkie) and I'm not confident that the numbers will be what I hope they will (in the 2-3 range). I'm betting they'll be over 5 again. I haven't hit my sweet spot TSH level yet, and honestly, after 9 months of treatment and yo-yo-ing on Levoxyl dosages and TSH values, I'm starting to get pretty fucking impatient. Add to the fact that my doctor basically said it's useless to try and take care of anything related to my weight right now b/c of my thyroid being unstable, and well, I'm not feeling to great about my health. I'm a terribly impatient person and I might need to seek a second opinion to see if I can't move this on a faster track. At the very least, I might need to seriously reconsider again supplementing this with some TCM and acupuncture.
Well, this wasn't brief at all. I'll write more in the coming days... I've got some interesting initial thoughts and observations on the donor selection process now that we've registered with a couple of databases online. Weird stuff, man, weird.
For now, time to board. I can't wait to sleep in my own bed tonight.
On a lighter note: my sister's 2nd ultrasound went well. Things are going swimmingly for Otter and her Spud. I am excited to see her at Christmas. So far, no need for an amniocentisis, and that's wonderful news given her age.
Work is... work. It's a paycheck, housing and health insurance at this point. I have come to the firm decision I will no longer be a doormat to my bully of a supervisor, and quite frankly, I'm a better person than my supervisor and will not let my supervisor win. Bullying is not a management style- it's a personality flaw, and I'm simply not going to take the passive-aggressive bullshit anymore. I'm digging in my heels and ready to fight the fight, if need be.
Ari's been applying for some more full-time work since he knows how unhappy I am at my job. He's got two apps out right now, so if you can put the good vibes out there in the universe for him, it would be much appreciated. Also... his birthday is Monday! It'll be the 12th birthday of his I've spent with him... nuts. I have some serious shopping I need to do before then :)
On the IF front... I've been much more open to the idea of adoption rather spontaneously in the last few days. Not sure why, but maybe I'm not meant to be pg. I really worry about whether or not I could successfully carry a pregnancy to term - just a weird gut feeling I've had in the last couple of weeks. As much as it would be a healing process for me, I just don't know if it's a realistic goal. DE/IVF is scary, just in terms of what you have to go through medically, and I don't know if physically, I'm really up for that. And if it failed, or worse yet, I miscarried... the emotional and financial damage could be irreparable.
I have a regular 6-week thyroid checkup on Monday with my RE. I'm not looking forward to it. Despite the dosage increase over the last 6 weeks, symptomatically, I feel worse. I had my b/w done yesterday (with a juicy lookin bruise on my hand... I look like a junkie) and I'm not confident that the numbers will be what I hope they will (in the 2-3 range). I'm betting they'll be over 5 again. I haven't hit my sweet spot TSH level yet, and honestly, after 9 months of treatment and yo-yo-ing on Levoxyl dosages and TSH values, I'm starting to get pretty fucking impatient. Add to the fact that my doctor basically said it's useless to try and take care of anything related to my weight right now b/c of my thyroid being unstable, and well, I'm not feeling to great about my health. I'm a terribly impatient person and I might need to seek a second opinion to see if I can't move this on a faster track. At the very least, I might need to seriously reconsider again supplementing this with some TCM and acupuncture.
Well, this wasn't brief at all. I'll write more in the coming days... I've got some interesting initial thoughts and observations on the donor selection process now that we've registered with a couple of databases online. Weird stuff, man, weird.
For now, time to board. I can't wait to sleep in my own bed tonight.
December 10, 2009
A Celebratory 100th Post
I can't believe this crept up on me so fast. I can't believe I've written 100 posts since March... nuts. (Although really, this isn't shocking; the LiveJournal I kept for years amassed almost 1200 entries in about 4 years.) In celebration of this momentous occasion, I've got a big announcement...
I'm going to be an Aunt!
I can finally let the cat out of the bag; my sister had told me weeks ago, but I was sworn to secrecy to keep it from our parents. Over Thanksgiving, they did the reveal to both sets of parents, and told their friends this past weekend. The gag order has been lifted and I'm really happy to write about it here. Our parents are of course very excited; Spud will be the first grandchild for them.
For the sake of anonymity in this blog, I'll be referring to my sister as Otter, her husband as Thor, and the baby as Spud (their name for the lil' rascal, not mine). Mom-to-be is healthy, glowing, and due in the end of June, which fits her school-year scheduled life perfectly. A lil background: my sister is 8 years older than me and they've been married for 8 years now. Thor is a totally awesome brother-in-law, and they have been gracious caretakers to one of our cats, Clio, when my current job didn't allow pets.
Here's the super-weird-almost-cosmic way I found out... Ari and I were only back from Japan a matter of days when I had a very vivid dream where Otter walked up to me on the street and told me she was 8 weeks pregnant. She also told me it was a little girl and was naming it my maternal grandmother's first and middle names. We hugged, I was excited, I woke up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night, not entirely sure if that was even real. I went back to sleep and told Ari about it the next morning. He thought that was a weird dream too.
So I IM'd her the next day, asking her how she was feeling and telling her about that funny dream I had the night before. My office phone starts ringing and it's my sister. We never call each other during the work day. After a little chit chat, she confesses she really IS pregnant, but only about 5 weeks. I am sworn to secrecy.
Freaky, huh?
But now that's she's out of the preggo closet, I'm happy to spread the news, b/c I'm wicked excited for them. And my sister is very understanding of the whole dynamic - we're both working really hard to be supportive of each other b/c at the end of the day, we're sisters. There are times when it's been really hard, but I work through it (thank god for therapy). I've got a supportive husband and parents. And recently, I've focused less on my constant pity-party for myself and channeled more of that energy into being exciting for my sister and her husband and my future neice/nephew. (Speaking of neice/nephew: why is there no gender neutral term for child of a sibling? That's when I found nibling. It sounds a little odd, but I'm all for a movement for a gender neutral term.) Instead of focusing on loss (what I don't/can't have), focusing on possibility (a nibling!): this small attitude change has had immense help in looking at the general state of affairs with regard to my IF. But every day is different, and I take it one day at a time. I'm so pumped about being an Auntie - that's right, Auntie. I've always wanted to be referred to as Auntie ever since I was little :)
For now, here's to 100 posts and I'm sure a hundred more. Let's hope the next 100 bring Ari and I closer to our dream of being parents ourselves.
I'm going to be an Aunt!
I can finally let the cat out of the bag; my sister had told me weeks ago, but I was sworn to secrecy to keep it from our parents. Over Thanksgiving, they did the reveal to both sets of parents, and told their friends this past weekend. The gag order has been lifted and I'm really happy to write about it here. Our parents are of course very excited; Spud will be the first grandchild for them.
For the sake of anonymity in this blog, I'll be referring to my sister as Otter, her husband as Thor, and the baby as Spud (their name for the lil' rascal, not mine). Mom-to-be is healthy, glowing, and due in the end of June, which fits her school-year scheduled life perfectly. A lil background: my sister is 8 years older than me and they've been married for 8 years now. Thor is a totally awesome brother-in-law, and they have been gracious caretakers to one of our cats, Clio, when my current job didn't allow pets.
Here's the super-weird-almost-cosmic way I found out... Ari and I were only back from Japan a matter of days when I had a very vivid dream where Otter walked up to me on the street and told me she was 8 weeks pregnant. She also told me it was a little girl and was naming it my maternal grandmother's first and middle names. We hugged, I was excited, I woke up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night, not entirely sure if that was even real. I went back to sleep and told Ari about it the next morning. He thought that was a weird dream too.
So I IM'd her the next day, asking her how she was feeling and telling her about that funny dream I had the night before. My office phone starts ringing and it's my sister. We never call each other during the work day. After a little chit chat, she confesses she really IS pregnant, but only about 5 weeks. I am sworn to secrecy.
Freaky, huh?
But now that's she's out of the preggo closet, I'm happy to spread the news, b/c I'm wicked excited for them. And my sister is very understanding of the whole dynamic - we're both working really hard to be supportive of each other b/c at the end of the day, we're sisters. There are times when it's been really hard, but I work through it (thank god for therapy). I've got a supportive husband and parents. And recently, I've focused less on my constant pity-party for myself and channeled more of that energy into being exciting for my sister and her husband and my future neice/nephew. (Speaking of neice/nephew: why is there no gender neutral term for child of a sibling? That's when I found nibling. It sounds a little odd, but I'm all for a movement for a gender neutral term.) Instead of focusing on loss (what I don't/can't have), focusing on possibility (a nibling!): this small attitude change has had immense help in looking at the general state of affairs with regard to my IF. But every day is different, and I take it one day at a time. I'm so pumped about being an Auntie - that's right, Auntie. I've always wanted to be referred to as Auntie ever since I was little :)
For now, here's to 100 posts and I'm sure a hundred more. Let's hope the next 100 bring Ari and I closer to our dream of being parents ourselves.
December 9, 2009
Cross-Pollination Post: Decisions, Decisions...
I'm Cross-Pollinating today! For one day, bloggers in the ALI community swap posts without revealing who their guest blogger is as a part of Xpol. We sign up, we get matched, and agree to post the other blogger's post in our own blog without revealing their name/blog. To see all the other busy bees cross-pollinating today, click on the image above. The guest post follows below- I'm so happy to share my blogspace with someone who has such a great story to tell. Leave a comment and see if you can guess who my guest blogger is (and thus where my blog post is hiding today)!
"Decisions, Decisions..."
When Miriam and I were getting to know each other in that bloggy way – exploring each other’s sites and comparing the similarities and differences in our journeys, she suggested that I write about how hubby and I chose adoption and international adoption to be specific.
I think her request was brave. I know some people who have ALWAYS known that they wanted to adopt. It has nothing to do, for them, with any lack of fertility but with a dedication to help the children of the world. I’d love to say that I was that altruistic. I’d love to BE that altruistic. But the truth is that we only turned our thoughts towards adoption once our attempts to procreate had failed. Which doesn’t mean that we’ll love an adopted child any less than we would a biological one. But for a number of reasons – not the least is being the last of my line on my father’s side – it was very important to me that we at least TRY to genetically carry on our family lines.
Although I remember my frantic visit to Planned Parenthood for a pregnancy test after my first unprotected sexual experience (not sure why I was stupid enough to let that happen but the irony of that fear is certainly not lost on me!), by the time I reached my mid-20’s I think I KNEW that I wouldn’t get pregnant. And whether it was some genetic knowledge or a self-fulfilling prophecy, it turned out to be correct.
And with that knowledge, I had a plan. I was going to use a sperm donor if I was single and not yet a mother at 38 (coincidentally that is the age when my mother died. I’m not sure if I chose it for that reason or because I thought that would give me time to get pregnant before I turned 40 – because of COURSE it was going to work the first time. I never considered otherwise).
As it turned out, I wasn’t single at 38. But neither was I a mother, although numerous doctors had already said that they didn’t know why. But for a slew of reasons, we weren’t ready to dive into the wonderful world of IF treatments. And when we did, we met with a litany of chemical pregnancies, an early miscarriage, and a number of pointless cycles.
By the time we stopped trying this past January, I was 43. And adoption was already on the table as a concept. Unlike many couples I know, that ones who did copious amounts of research before deciding whether to pursue domestic (open? closed?) or international (what country?) we fell into our decision easily.
I think I spent all of two days looking into domestic foster-to-adoption. But two days is a lot if all you’re hearing are horror stories of children being returned to biological parents who are ill-equipped to care for them.
Domestic adoption probably got a week’s worth of attention (I have to say here though that when I research something, that something is WELL researched). The current vogue is to adopt openly. And I admit that there is a part of me that appreciates that in concept – the child is loved not only by their adoptive family but by their birth family who is active in their lives and of course, a child can never have too much love. And I applaud the decision that birth parents make when they decide that they must sacrifice their child to give them the best life possible.
But hubby and I both agree (him a little harsher than me) that giving up a child doesn’t mean getting all of the benefits with none of the work. Hubby and I will, more than likely, only have one child. We have (thankfully similar) pretty strict ideas on childrearing which mostly involve letting children BE children and not having to grow up too soon, etc. I think we’ll be stellar and very, very, fun parents who each have unique and different things to bring to our roles. We won’t be having a biological child but I still want a child who is, as much as any child can be, “ours.” Is that selfish? Perhaps. But I also truly believe that it’s less confusing for the child.
It might surprise you to know that I would actively support my one-day child’s search for their birth parents. But it won’t happen when that child is four or five. It will need to be their choice and something that they want to and are ready to undertake.
All of which made international adoption the clear choice for us. And as often happen for us, we fell easily into the choice of adoption for Bulgaria. When I began looking through the countries (as the designated family researcher), the Eastern Bloc countries were looking grim – expensive and demanding of a lot of in-country time - Guatemala and Ethiopia were mired allegations of children sold by their families or outright stolen from them. We were too old for other countries we looked at and my Jewishness was a strike in others.
Bulgaria jumped off the page at us for a few reasons. First off all, we’ve been there. Hubby is from the UK and I lived there with him for 4 years after we were married. Our first real vacation was to Bulgaria – someplace I never even thought of visiting. And we had a great time. The children who are put up for adoption there are typically Roma (more derogatorily referred to as Gypsy) with dark hair and eyes mirroring our own. For better or worse, the country’s adoption system which had come almost to a halt under an administration that preferred to see children living in orphanages than adopted to loving families oversees was being completely overhauled. The pricing is in the mid-range for international adoption and the in-country requirements are completely reasonable.
Was it the right choice? As I write this, we’re waiting for various bit and pieces of government approval so that we can submit our dossier and get on the waiting list. Adoptions are certainly moving faster than they were through last year under the old administration (in 2008 there were only 5 adoptions from the US as opposed to 298 in 2001) but there have been no referrals of “healthy” kids that anyone is aware of (that being said, what is considered unhealthy isn’t always as big an issue for those of us in countries with access to quality healthcare as it is for those in other countries).
Certainly only time will tell. At least all of those two week waits taught me some amount of patience. I’d like to say that we sweated this decision – that we poured over articles and called references and such. But while I’m ever-grateful to the internet and all of the information, and the few people on a listserv that I DID reach out to, we made this decision because in the end it just felt right. And I almost like to think that it found us and much as we found it.
Make your guess in the comments below, and feel free to share your thoughts on her story... after you make a guess, click here to be taken to their blog!
December 7, 2009
Called me out.
So I'm behind a few days worth of posts, but it's been an interesting few days. Ari and I (again) had another long discussion (read: late-night argument) about this rock and a hard place location I'm in where I need to find a job that actually stimulates and fulfills me but has MA-written insurance and a decent enough salary and that if I want to transition to another job I basically need to do it yesterday because it doesn't make sense to start a new job in a year and then start IVF.
Whew, pardon the runon sentence.
This goes back to a lot of what I wrote about in my last post: stuff I need to have in place (ideally) to have kids. What really annoys me is that there are plenty of couples who end up with an oops! baby and somehow figure out how to make it work, but when you're dealing with IVF and thousands of dollars, suddenly all the t's are crossed and i's are dotted before you can get the ball rolling. Add to the mix that Ari simply isn't ready for parenthood yet and it gets... frustrating, to say the least. At the crux of the argument is that either a) I wait until he's ready and we've got our finances in order and thus, am kind of left in a state of miserable waiting or b) I rush Ari into something he's not ready for and thus he's left in a state of feeling cheated.
It's not exactly a win-win situation. And this is why last week, we were up until 2:30 in the morning, shouting, crying, demanding, bargaining, and venting. Like all good marital "discussions," it started out about one thing, but by the end, was a very different beast that brought up all the various challenges in our relationship. We had finally had enough, and Ari was exhausted and went to bed. I was still fuming, so I do what I always do when I need to get out of the house in the middle of the night: I wander around the 24-hour grocery and drug stores near us. I spent the time looking for things related to his Hanukkah gift so I could channel my energy in a more positive direction towards my husband. After I got home, I fell asleep on the couch.
Somehow I ended up back in our bed before I woke up, and we talked some more. We both had only a few hours of sleep under our belt, and Ari finally said, "If this is that important to you, then let's do it. Let's get the ball rolling and start actively looking for donors and getting everything started."
*record scratch*
I kind of mumbled "Awesome" or something to that effect and then he was out the door for a gig for his new business. At work, I could barely focus. All I could keep thinking about was "Holy shit... he really wants to start moving on this..." and that's when I realized that maybe I wasn't as 100% ready as I thought I was. My therapist had even asked me about this a few sessions back: "What would you do if Ari called you out and said he wanted to start things now?" I didn't have an answer for her then, but I sure had it right now.
After we both got home from work, we had a long conversation about all of this. What it comes down to is several factors: financially, we're just not there. He's definitely not ready, and I'm probably only about 75% ready. Insurance is a must. And basically, the entire process of selecting a donor and going through IVF in general is pretty fucking daunting, and it really intimidates the both of us. What I realized is that I've got some pretty serious issues of my own I need to work out that my various medical issues are not helping. I've got a lot of work to do for myself, and after admitting this to not just my husband, but to myself, I'm at a better place to move on emotionally.
In the end, if we're ever going to be parents we need to be partners in the process, not enemies. We reached a compromise: let's re-evaluate things in a few months once his business gets off the ground. Let's work on getting all the other ducks in a row, particularly my thyroid and weight. And while we wait, let's start looking at donor profiles- not make any decisions, but get a sense of what we're looking for, what's important to us in a donor. Just dip our toes into the process rather than diving in headfirst.
Instead of standing back-to-back, looking in different directions with different agendas, let's stand side by side, holding hands, and looking at the entire expanse of the horizon. I really just need to remember the quote we had written in our wedding programs:
Whew, pardon the runon sentence.
This goes back to a lot of what I wrote about in my last post: stuff I need to have in place (ideally) to have kids. What really annoys me is that there are plenty of couples who end up with an oops! baby and somehow figure out how to make it work, but when you're dealing with IVF and thousands of dollars, suddenly all the t's are crossed and i's are dotted before you can get the ball rolling. Add to the mix that Ari simply isn't ready for parenthood yet and it gets... frustrating, to say the least. At the crux of the argument is that either a) I wait until he's ready and we've got our finances in order and thus, am kind of left in a state of miserable waiting or b) I rush Ari into something he's not ready for and thus he's left in a state of feeling cheated.
It's not exactly a win-win situation. And this is why last week, we were up until 2:30 in the morning, shouting, crying, demanding, bargaining, and venting. Like all good marital "discussions," it started out about one thing, but by the end, was a very different beast that brought up all the various challenges in our relationship. We had finally had enough, and Ari was exhausted and went to bed. I was still fuming, so I do what I always do when I need to get out of the house in the middle of the night: I wander around the 24-hour grocery and drug stores near us. I spent the time looking for things related to his Hanukkah gift so I could channel my energy in a more positive direction towards my husband. After I got home, I fell asleep on the couch.
Somehow I ended up back in our bed before I woke up, and we talked some more. We both had only a few hours of sleep under our belt, and Ari finally said, "If this is that important to you, then let's do it. Let's get the ball rolling and start actively looking for donors and getting everything started."
*record scratch*
I kind of mumbled "Awesome" or something to that effect and then he was out the door for a gig for his new business. At work, I could barely focus. All I could keep thinking about was "Holy shit... he really wants to start moving on this..." and that's when I realized that maybe I wasn't as 100% ready as I thought I was. My therapist had even asked me about this a few sessions back: "What would you do if Ari called you out and said he wanted to start things now?" I didn't have an answer for her then, but I sure had it right now.
After we both got home from work, we had a long conversation about all of this. What it comes down to is several factors: financially, we're just not there. He's definitely not ready, and I'm probably only about 75% ready. Insurance is a must. And basically, the entire process of selecting a donor and going through IVF in general is pretty fucking daunting, and it really intimidates the both of us. What I realized is that I've got some pretty serious issues of my own I need to work out that my various medical issues are not helping. I've got a lot of work to do for myself, and after admitting this to not just my husband, but to myself, I'm at a better place to move on emotionally.
In the end, if we're ever going to be parents we need to be partners in the process, not enemies. We reached a compromise: let's re-evaluate things in a few months once his business gets off the ground. Let's work on getting all the other ducks in a row, particularly my thyroid and weight. And while we wait, let's start looking at donor profiles- not make any decisions, but get a sense of what we're looking for, what's important to us in a donor. Just dip our toes into the process rather than diving in headfirst.
Instead of standing back-to-back, looking in different directions with different agendas, let's stand side by side, holding hands, and looking at the entire expanse of the horizon. I really just need to remember the quote we had written in our wedding programs:
"Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction." ~ Antoine de Saint Exupéry
December 4, 2009
Makin' a list and checking it twice.
So, if we want to get this "having a baby" party started, I'll need to have a few things in order. It is astounding everything we need to consider in the grand scope of things. And when I look back on it? I want to throttle my high school health teacher for spreading this notion that getting pregnant consists of merely glancing at a member of the opposite sex, let alone actual contact. In a way, I'm thankful I was diagnosed before we started trying, b/c I've probably only spent about $75 in my lifetime on pg tests, back when I missed a pill here or there or my period was randomly late. Man, if only I knew!
DE/IVF affords us the rare opportunity to time things in a way that natural conception can't. And this might not be the best thing for us, since we (like to) get a little caught up in the planning stages of things. (Case in point- the nearly 2 years we had to plan our wedding. We had everything planned to the smallest detail.)
So here's what we need to have sorted out before we can begin this journey:
..right?
DE/IVF affords us the rare opportunity to time things in a way that natural conception can't. And this might not be the best thing for us, since we (like to) get a little caught up in the planning stages of things. (Case in point- the nearly 2 years we had to plan our wedding. We had everything planned to the smallest detail.)
So here's what we need to have sorted out before we can begin this journey:
- Insurance. This is pretty self-explanatory, but having an insurance plan written in the state of MA is a biggie, b/c MA has some of the most comprehensive infertility treatment laws in the nation. In a lot of ways, it really binds us locationally to this state (which is great, b/c I love it here). The other option is NJ, which is where Ari and I are from originally, but like I said, we love it up here and MA is where all of our friends are.
- Income. Also pretty self-explanatory. Right now, we're working on 1.5 incomes as Ari gets the new business up and running. Seeing as we need to sack away upwards of $15k for one DE/IVF cycle, this is also a biggie.
- Housing. I'm in the unique position of having free housing with my job. It's been a lifesaver for the past 9 months. However, there are also unique challenges with my job as a result of said free housing and how it relates to maternity leave.
- Well-managed thyroid. Have another monitoring appointment on 12/21. I'm hoping I'm in a better TSH range, but my suspicion is that it has crept back up, as symptomatically, I've felt like poo since I upped dosages. I think I may have had another ATA attack, and I'm dumping TSH right now. My RE is a little slow on protocol, and I'm seriously considering getting a second opinion/more aggressive RE after the new year.
- Lose weight. I've got about 50lbs I need to lose to get my BMI where it needs to. And losing weight will be next to impossible until I have a well-managed thyroid.
- Adopt healthy lifestyles. Regular exercise, eating better, and getting everything squared away with my teeth, because oral health is directly linked to instances of miscarriage.
..right?
December 3, 2009
Show & Tell 5: My Desktop Toucan
This is my desktop toucan. In my head, I call him Toucan Sam. Original, right?
He sits just under my computer monitor. I get a strange delight looking at him every day. If he went missing from my desk, I'd be pissed, and then very, very sad. I love this little guy. I don't keep a whole lot of chotchkes on my desk: a couple of mugs for the school where I work, a bottle of hand santizer, a full sized bottle of Optimism lotion from Bath & Body Works. I have a pic of the hubby of course, but it's on my side desk area, and not in my field of vision all the time. This lil dude is.
He's from Venezuela, as you can see. My dad bought this for me a few years ago. He's a photojournalist, and was on assignment in South America. He saw this, thought of me, and brought it back. My dad used to travel a lot, all over the world in fact, and I always loved the cool lil souvenirs he brought back. That's why I was especially touched when I got this when I was in college- my dad still thought of his "little girl" when he went abroad on assignment for the first time in several years.
Toucans have always had a special place in my heart. I get the whole big schnozz thing, as I have quite the well-endowed nose myself. But when I was a kid, I had a really neat experience that has stayed with me to this day.
I was maybe 4 or 5 at most. Our den has a large window overlooking the backyard. In the far corner of the yard is our "garden" (aka, giant lawn clipping dumping ground that grows tiger lilies every summer). I happened to be looking outside at the garden and saw a HUGE black bird with a long banana yellow beak and subtle tints of blue plumage along the shiny black profile. Sweet jiminy, it was the bird on the Froot Loops box. (I knew this b/c I ate more artificial coloring and flavoring for breakfast than one child ever should.) And toucans weren't exactly part of the normal flora and fauna of New Jersey in the mid-80's.
I ran upstairs to tell my mom. By the time we got back downstairs, it had flown away. My mom of course entertained her youngest daughter's notion that "Sure honey, of course a big black toucan was in our backyard!" I saw right through this and begged my mom to believe me. Cue the waterworks, the pleading, and the fruitless wishes for the bird to return.
I know I saw a toucan, damnit. And now, I have my own Toucan Sam looking semi-quizzically at me five days out of the week.
Head on over to Mel's to see what the other kids are showing this week for Show & Tell!
He sits just under my computer monitor. I get a strange delight looking at him every day. If he went missing from my desk, I'd be pissed, and then very, very sad. I love this little guy. I don't keep a whole lot of chotchkes on my desk: a couple of mugs for the school where I work, a bottle of hand santizer, a full sized bottle of Optimism lotion from Bath & Body Works. I have a pic of the hubby of course, but it's on my side desk area, and not in my field of vision all the time. This lil dude is.
Toucans have always had a special place in my heart. I get the whole big schnozz thing, as I have quite the well-endowed nose myself. But when I was a kid, I had a really neat experience that has stayed with me to this day.
I was maybe 4 or 5 at most. Our den has a large window overlooking the backyard. In the far corner of the yard is our "garden" (aka, giant lawn clipping dumping ground that grows tiger lilies every summer). I happened to be looking outside at the garden and saw a HUGE black bird with a long banana yellow beak and subtle tints of blue plumage along the shiny black profile. Sweet jiminy, it was the bird on the Froot Loops box. (I knew this b/c I ate more artificial coloring and flavoring for breakfast than one child ever should.) And toucans weren't exactly part of the normal flora and fauna of New Jersey in the mid-80's.
I ran upstairs to tell my mom. By the time we got back downstairs, it had flown away. My mom of course entertained her youngest daughter's notion that "Sure honey, of course a big black toucan was in our backyard!" I saw right through this and begged my mom to believe me. Cue the waterworks, the pleading, and the fruitless wishes for the bird to return.
I know I saw a toucan, damnit. And now, I have my own Toucan Sam looking semi-quizzically at me five days out of the week.
Head on over to Mel's to see what the other kids are showing this week for Show & Tell!
November 27, 2009
Test for password protect
Edit: Sweet! It worked :) There may be password-protected posts in the future, so if you'd like the key, please leave a comment to that entry and make sure you leave an email when you comment and I'll email it to you.
Full bellies
A delicious Thanksgiving indeed. Family, food, and good times had by all.
(This is mostly a test post from the iPod Touch that Ari won me as a raffle prize at the convention he went to last week.)
Today, just relaxing at my parents' house watching Battlestar Galactica: The Plan. More to post about later.
(This is mostly a test post from the iPod Touch that Ari won me as a raffle prize at the convention he went to last week.)
Today, just relaxing at my parents' house watching Battlestar Galactica: The Plan. More to post about later.
November 24, 2009
I need a change.
I've felt stagnant lately. Perhaps it's the change of season. Perhaps it's my lack of periods- the months just blur into one another. Perhaps it's a matter of taking myself out of the elements that remind me of my infertility on a daily basis- I need to detach from the spaces I'm surrounded in.
I've been reconsidering a major career change recently. I currently work in higher education in the student affairs field. Five years ago, this is what I wanted to do with my life. Now... not so much. My heart just isn't in it anymore. I had this grand vision of being a Dean of Students at a small liberal arts college one day. Now, I want simplicity. The dream job?
A stay-at-home mom.
Even when I was in college, in my gender and womens' studies classes, I would defend this choice. It's totally possible to be a feminist and be a SAHM- the feminism isn't about doing all the jobs and getting paid as equally as men. It's part of it, but ultimately, I see pure feminism as having the choice to do those jobs and demand equal pay. If you want to be a housewife, go for it. If you want to be a CEO, that's awesome too.
SAHM's aren't exactly the pinnacle of income-generating careers, so Ari and I made the agreement: if I can supplement an income, find some way to make it work so he's not sole breadwinner, sure- let's do it. That all changed when he got laid off. Now I'm not only the breadwinner, I'm also the provider of housing and insurance, so making a major career switch is going to involve a lot of research and planning before we can invest fully in this decision. His business is still in its infancy, so we can't rely on an income from that just yet.
This leaves me at an impasse, where, I kind of like my job, kind of don't, but I don't like my field, which is a greater issue for me. As an INFP, my job must be closely tied to my values, and if the field I work in no longer aligns closely with my values, then it's a bad fit on a much larger scale.
The first step to this plan is to figure out exactly what I want to do. This is a bit of a challenge, b/c in addition to being an INFP, I'm a classic Gemini, so my interests are all over the map. My strengths are also all over the map as a result. Ari likes to joke that when I take an interest in something, I not only learn it overnight, I master it. While I'm too modest to really say that, let's just say I pick up new skills and interests quickly and with some skill. A lot of the times I feel like I'm just faking it or just making it up as I go along, but the end results are usually pretty good.
Stuff I interested in; * = things I'm actually pretty good at.
The issue? Figuring out if any of these, whether combined with one another or singly, can lead to possible careers if I'm starting basically from scratch, even though I've had passing interest and experience with all of these things. I may not have a formal design porfolio, but I've done a lot of work within other jobs over the years. I may not have a degree in English, but I've been writing for a long time. I may not have gone to art school, but I've got a natural eye for design and photography. A lot of the things I like to do and am good at just come naturally to me. However, writing a resume and putting down, "Well, I like it and I'm good at it" isn't going to get me very far.
Ari has suggested talking with people in jobs I want to do, but I'm not at a point to say, "I want to do X job." He's also suggested doing apprenticeships if I can, like coming in on the weekends and working with a local stationer, or working at the wine and cheese or floral sections of a place like Whole Foods or a florist shop.
All of this fills me with a small amount of terror, b/c as any INFP can tell you, initiating conversations with strangers is terrifying and taxing. For now, I'm still in the "what job is out there that combines all of these things into one that pays good money and offers health insurance written in the state of MA?"
Anyone have any thoughts or advice out there? I feel like trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up when I'm already 27 is an exercise in futility.
I've been reconsidering a major career change recently. I currently work in higher education in the student affairs field. Five years ago, this is what I wanted to do with my life. Now... not so much. My heart just isn't in it anymore. I had this grand vision of being a Dean of Students at a small liberal arts college one day. Now, I want simplicity. The dream job?
A stay-at-home mom.
Even when I was in college, in my gender and womens' studies classes, I would defend this choice. It's totally possible to be a feminist and be a SAHM- the feminism isn't about doing all the jobs and getting paid as equally as men. It's part of it, but ultimately, I see pure feminism as having the choice to do those jobs and demand equal pay. If you want to be a housewife, go for it. If you want to be a CEO, that's awesome too.
SAHM's aren't exactly the pinnacle of income-generating careers, so Ari and I made the agreement: if I can supplement an income, find some way to make it work so he's not sole breadwinner, sure- let's do it. That all changed when he got laid off. Now I'm not only the breadwinner, I'm also the provider of housing and insurance, so making a major career switch is going to involve a lot of research and planning before we can invest fully in this decision. His business is still in its infancy, so we can't rely on an income from that just yet.
This leaves me at an impasse, where, I kind of like my job, kind of don't, but I don't like my field, which is a greater issue for me. As an INFP, my job must be closely tied to my values, and if the field I work in no longer aligns closely with my values, then it's a bad fit on a much larger scale.
The first step to this plan is to figure out exactly what I want to do. This is a bit of a challenge, b/c in addition to being an INFP, I'm a classic Gemini, so my interests are all over the map. My strengths are also all over the map as a result. Ari likes to joke that when I take an interest in something, I not only learn it overnight, I master it. While I'm too modest to really say that, let's just say I pick up new skills and interests quickly and with some skill. A lot of the times I feel like I'm just faking it or just making it up as I go along, but the end results are usually pretty good.
Stuff I interested in; * = things I'm actually pretty good at.
- *Writing, particularly introspective non-fiction. I feel a memoir at 27 is a bit silly though.
- *Judaism, particularly cantorical work. My Hebrew however, is virtually non-existent.
- *Travel, and travel writing.
- Food, and writing about food.
- *Wine... and drinking lots of it.
- *Floral design.
- *Graphics & web design, but I no almost no CSS, which is an issue. Love to do invites, flyers, business materials, posters.
- Mushrooms: I have long wanted to study what mushroom is what so I can walk through the woods, picking what I want to eat.
- *Cheese... and eating lots of it.
- *Making personal, one-on-one differences in people's lives.
- Advocating for social change.
- *Coming up with marketing campaigns.
- *Photography, although I have no idea how to use a manual. I cheat with my Lumix LX3.
- *Scrapbooking and paper crafts.
- Nature and the outdoors: hiking, camping, canoeing.
- *Being a good listening/pseudo counselor. No degree in counseling, but I like to think I do a halfway decent job through the work I do in higher ed.
The issue? Figuring out if any of these, whether combined with one another or singly, can lead to possible careers if I'm starting basically from scratch, even though I've had passing interest and experience with all of these things. I may not have a formal design porfolio, but I've done a lot of work within other jobs over the years. I may not have a degree in English, but I've been writing for a long time. I may not have gone to art school, but I've got a natural eye for design and photography. A lot of the things I like to do and am good at just come naturally to me. However, writing a resume and putting down, "Well, I like it and I'm good at it" isn't going to get me very far.
Ari has suggested talking with people in jobs I want to do, but I'm not at a point to say, "I want to do X job." He's also suggested doing apprenticeships if I can, like coming in on the weekends and working with a local stationer, or working at the wine and cheese or floral sections of a place like Whole Foods or a florist shop.
All of this fills me with a small amount of terror, b/c as any INFP can tell you, initiating conversations with strangers is terrifying and taxing. For now, I'm still in the "what job is out there that combines all of these things into one that pays good money and offers health insurance written in the state of MA?"
Anyone have any thoughts or advice out there? I feel like trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up when I'm already 27 is an exercise in futility.
November 23, 2009
Thanksgiving is a complicated holiday for me.
I *love* Thanksgiving. It's my favorite holiday of the entire year. My second favorite? Passover... which may as well be Jewish Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving b/c I like sitting down with my family, breaking out the good dishes, breaking out the nice wine glasses, and when I was younger, it was the official gateway to Christmas. As I child, I would marvel at the casserole after casserole of food, the house full of delicious spices and turkey cooking all morning. Yet as my title suggests, Thanksgiving is a complicated holiday for me.
In 2000, the day after Thanksgiving, I went to my highschool's yearly rival football game, meeting up with a bunch of friends from highschool. Afterward, we went to lunch at Chili's. I remember eating a ton of queso dip. That evening, I went out bowling with Ari (my bf at the time, how cute) and my sister and brother-in-law. I bowled an 11 - to date, the absolute worst game I've ever bowled. By that evening, I wasn't feeling too hot: mostly nausea with increasing cramping in my lower left abdomen. The next 72 hours are kind of fuzzy: two ER visits and 1 emergency surgery later on November 27, I was down an ovary and lucky to be alive. I had an ovarian cyst that torsioned around the ovary and caused it to become necrotic. (Yeah, I know- gross, right?) The next few weeks I was home from college recovering, doing work at home and emailing it to my professors. I was left with tiny physical scars, but deeper ones emotionally. I remember struggling with this idea that I felt like a tree with a broken branch, that I was somehow incomplete. I was assured my fertility would remain in tact. Did this contribute to my POF? Probably. But I suppose being around to tell this tale is better than not being here at all.
Two years later, Ari's grandfather passed away the day before Thanksgiving, on November 26. While Ari and I had been (back) together for only about 2 years at this point, I was still very close with his family, and in a lot of ways, when Pop passed, it was like losing my last surviving grandfather (my mom's father died before I was born, and my Ojichan had passed away in 2000, in the earlier part of November). That was a tough Thanksgiving that year. My heart particularly goes out to my Ari's mom this year; this is the first Thanksgiving without either parent, after Nan passed in August.
Thanksgiving is actually on November 26 this year. I can't believe a) it's been 9 years since my surgery and b) it's been 7 years since Pop died. I hate this time of year. But I fucking love Thanksgiving.
This year, we're doing the first combined families Thanksgiving: Ari's family is coming over to my parents' house. My sister and her husband will be joining us for dessert, since they're swinging by my brother-in-law's father's house first. It's going to be a lot of people, a lot of food, and a lot of good times. But it's still hard. This is the first Thanksgiving I'll be putting my surgery in the context of my infertility. Thankfully, I have an appt with my counselor tomorrow night. I'm hoping I can work through some of this there.
Right now, I'm just trying to focus on the food and sharing the time with family, and less on all the baggage I'll have stuffed under the table. Set my sights on the sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, and honey mustard for the turkey, less on babies.
Also: Mel is hosting a virtual Thanksgiving over at Stirrup Queens. I brought the wine. What are you bringing?
In 2000, the day after Thanksgiving, I went to my highschool's yearly rival football game, meeting up with a bunch of friends from highschool. Afterward, we went to lunch at Chili's. I remember eating a ton of queso dip. That evening, I went out bowling with Ari (my bf at the time, how cute) and my sister and brother-in-law. I bowled an 11 - to date, the absolute worst game I've ever bowled. By that evening, I wasn't feeling too hot: mostly nausea with increasing cramping in my lower left abdomen. The next 72 hours are kind of fuzzy: two ER visits and 1 emergency surgery later on November 27, I was down an ovary and lucky to be alive. I had an ovarian cyst that torsioned around the ovary and caused it to become necrotic. (Yeah, I know- gross, right?) The next few weeks I was home from college recovering, doing work at home and emailing it to my professors. I was left with tiny physical scars, but deeper ones emotionally. I remember struggling with this idea that I felt like a tree with a broken branch, that I was somehow incomplete. I was assured my fertility would remain in tact. Did this contribute to my POF? Probably. But I suppose being around to tell this tale is better than not being here at all.
Two years later, Ari's grandfather passed away the day before Thanksgiving, on November 26. While Ari and I had been (back) together for only about 2 years at this point, I was still very close with his family, and in a lot of ways, when Pop passed, it was like losing my last surviving grandfather (my mom's father died before I was born, and my Ojichan had passed away in 2000, in the earlier part of November). That was a tough Thanksgiving that year. My heart particularly goes out to my Ari's mom this year; this is the first Thanksgiving without either parent, after Nan passed in August.
Thanksgiving is actually on November 26 this year. I can't believe a) it's been 9 years since my surgery and b) it's been 7 years since Pop died. I hate this time of year. But I fucking love Thanksgiving.
This year, we're doing the first combined families Thanksgiving: Ari's family is coming over to my parents' house. My sister and her husband will be joining us for dessert, since they're swinging by my brother-in-law's father's house first. It's going to be a lot of people, a lot of food, and a lot of good times. But it's still hard. This is the first Thanksgiving I'll be putting my surgery in the context of my infertility. Thankfully, I have an appt with my counselor tomorrow night. I'm hoping I can work through some of this there.
Right now, I'm just trying to focus on the food and sharing the time with family, and less on all the baggage I'll have stuffed under the table. Set my sights on the sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, and honey mustard for the turkey, less on babies.
Also: Mel is hosting a virtual Thanksgiving over at Stirrup Queens. I brought the wine. What are you bringing?
November 21, 2009
Welcome to November's IComLeavWe!
Welcome new folks stopping by for ICLW: Hi, I'm Miriam! *waves* (not my real name, but my Hebrew name). Welcome to Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed. For more info on those ladies, check out the link to the right. For more info in general about me and how I got here, again, head on over to the right column. And for the latest fun in my life, check out the few posts below this one.
I thought I'd kick off this ICLW with an A to Z meme. Here we go:
Ari: My husband, my soulmate, my best friend of over a decade, and yet we haven't even been married 2 years. Not his real name; his Hebrew name as well.
Boston: Moved here almost 2.5 years ago, and love living in MA, minus the winters.
Camping: Still a relatively new hobby within the last few years, and I love it.
Donor egg: This is pretty much our only option for me to be pregnant. Saving up the money and trying to get our lives in order to make this happen in the next few years.
Entrepreneur: Another reference to my husband, Ari - he just started his own business in the last month, after being laid off for nearly 8 months.
Foodie: Wine, cheese, sauces made with butter, garlic, creme... these are a few of my favorite things.
Geocaching: A new hobby within the last few months, it's quickly becoming one of my favorite ways to spend the weekend with my husband.
Hashimoto's thyroiditis: An autoimmune thyroid disorder where my body is attacking my thyroid, rendering it pretty much useless. Dx'd with Hashi's just a month or so after my POF Dx.
INFP: My MBTI personality. This says volumes about me, actually.
JBC (Jew-by-choice): I converted in 2007. My Judaism and my faith are very important, defining aspects of my character.
Kafka On the Shore: One of my favorite novels, by Japanese writer Haruki Murakami.
Listening to: Lots of Radiohead, Thom Yorke, Muse, and Annie Lennox on the iPod right now.
Miriam: I chose this as my Hebrew name b/c she was the songstress of the Torah, leading the people of Israel in song and dance when they escaped the Egyptians after cross the Sea of Reeds. She also provided the Israelites with a mystical traveling well to sustain them during their years of wandering.
Not sure of what's next: Finances, jobs, and housing just aren't lining up the way we'd like to right now, so any kind of IF treatment just isn't possible right now, and I'm terribly impatient.
Oophorectomy: I had my left ovary removed in November of 2000 from a torsioned cyst.
Premature ovarian failure: Diagnosed in March of this year; my remaining ovary simply doesn't have any follicles left. Essentially, I've gone into menopause at age 26.
Questioning if adoption is really right for us.
Red Tent Temple: A monthly gathering of women I go to. See two entries down for more info.
Sushi: I love it, so much.
Tequila: My liquor of choice.
Up: My favorite movie right now. Everything from how it handled IF, to "Adventure is out there!" - it's a beautiful, powerful, wonderfully adult movie that just happens to be animated.
Vacations: We honeymooned in Disney World and took a Disney cruise to the Bahamas, did a 5-day tour of California, and just spent two weeks in Japan last month.
Wish: That 2010 will be a much better year than 2009, b/c boy, 2009 sucked.
eXtra Facts About Me: I hold a beauty pageant title from high school, have sung at Carnegie Hall, and I love graphic design.
Yardsaling: Another favorite pasttime with my husband.
Zazz: A word I associate with Metalocalypse, one of my favorite shows on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim.
I thought I'd kick off this ICLW with an A to Z meme. Here we go:
Ari: My husband, my soulmate, my best friend of over a decade, and yet we haven't even been married 2 years. Not his real name; his Hebrew name as well.
Boston: Moved here almost 2.5 years ago, and love living in MA, minus the winters.
Camping: Still a relatively new hobby within the last few years, and I love it.
Donor egg: This is pretty much our only option for me to be pregnant. Saving up the money and trying to get our lives in order to make this happen in the next few years.
Entrepreneur: Another reference to my husband, Ari - he just started his own business in the last month, after being laid off for nearly 8 months.
Foodie: Wine, cheese, sauces made with butter, garlic, creme... these are a few of my favorite things.
Geocaching: A new hobby within the last few months, it's quickly becoming one of my favorite ways to spend the weekend with my husband.
Hashimoto's thyroiditis: An autoimmune thyroid disorder where my body is attacking my thyroid, rendering it pretty much useless. Dx'd with Hashi's just a month or so after my POF Dx.
INFP: My MBTI personality. This says volumes about me, actually.
JBC (Jew-by-choice): I converted in 2007. My Judaism and my faith are very important, defining aspects of my character.
Kafka On the Shore: One of my favorite novels, by Japanese writer Haruki Murakami.
Listening to: Lots of Radiohead, Thom Yorke, Muse, and Annie Lennox on the iPod right now.
Miriam: I chose this as my Hebrew name b/c she was the songstress of the Torah, leading the people of Israel in song and dance when they escaped the Egyptians after cross the Sea of Reeds. She also provided the Israelites with a mystical traveling well to sustain them during their years of wandering.
Not sure of what's next: Finances, jobs, and housing just aren't lining up the way we'd like to right now, so any kind of IF treatment just isn't possible right now, and I'm terribly impatient.
Oophorectomy: I had my left ovary removed in November of 2000 from a torsioned cyst.
Premature ovarian failure: Diagnosed in March of this year; my remaining ovary simply doesn't have any follicles left. Essentially, I've gone into menopause at age 26.
Questioning if adoption is really right for us.
Red Tent Temple: A monthly gathering of women I go to. See two entries down for more info.
Sushi: I love it, so much.
Tequila: My liquor of choice.
Up: My favorite movie right now. Everything from how it handled IF, to "Adventure is out there!" - it's a beautiful, powerful, wonderfully adult movie that just happens to be animated.
Vacations: We honeymooned in Disney World and took a Disney cruise to the Bahamas, did a 5-day tour of California, and just spent two weeks in Japan last month.
Wish: That 2010 will be a much better year than 2009, b/c boy, 2009 sucked.
eXtra Facts About Me: I hold a beauty pageant title from high school, have sung at Carnegie Hall, and I love graphic design.
Yardsaling: Another favorite pasttime with my husband.
Zazz: A word I associate with Metalocalypse, one of my favorite shows on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim.
November 20, 2009
Why all the hate on women's health?
I'm hoppin' mad about the state of women's health care in this country right now.
Recently, a national task force has made recommendations made about mammograms in women over 40. Today, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) has made recommendations to increase the age of initial pap smears to 21 instead of 18 and to do them every other year rather than annually.
My first question: what's with all of the recommendations about women's health all of a sudden? Why is the general consensus that less preventative screening is better? To reduce women's anxiety, as several articles on both subjects claim? Are you kidding me? Is this the Victorian era, where we need to be careful about the anxious tendencies in women and bouts of hysteria?
I'm calling bullshit on you, insurance industry.
Preventative medicine is expensive. Mammograms, pap smears - these annual exams cost the health care industry- and more importantly the insurance companies- a good chunk of change. So if a national task force makes a recommendation that no, your routine mammogram screening at 42 really isn't necessary, then your health insurance company has more leverage to say, "Sure, you can get your mammogram. But we won't cover it." What I find particularly concerning from ACOG about the new pap smear recommendations is that this greatly impacts younger women's health. Women in the prime of their lives are being told to put on the earmuffs about their own reproductive health- essentially, "don't worry about having pap smears annually b/c of false positives, because of stress" - at a time when women need to be the strongest advocates of their own reproductive health.
I'm concerned when recommendations on women's health are being made on a national scale for women to simply "Don't worry about it, b/c it might stress you out."
Are false positives stressful? Yes. Can abnormal pap smears or mammograms result in unnecessary surgery? Yes. But would you rather run the risk that by not getting screened, you miss a cancer in its earliest stages, and thus, at its best treatable stage? Tell me about stress and anxiety then, National Task Force Making Recommendations About Mammograms that had *no* oncologists on it?
Also stressful: women who can't afford to pay for those annual exams when their insurance denies their claim. FFS, there are people who've simply stopped taking their medicine altogether b/c they can't afford it in this economy right now.
I will admit, there are a million things I wished I had learned about my own reproductive health as a teenager. I wish, instead of being scared into pregnancy by just holding my boyfriend's hand, I was told about the realities and statistics surrounding conception. There's only so much health class will get into, and saying that high school sex ed scratches the surface is being generous. But at 18, I knew my first pap smear meant taking an active role in my sexual and reproductive health. In the last 9 years, I have learned that I need to be even MORE of an advocate for my own health, but annual exams at least kept my reproductive health on my radar. I'm so tired that women are told to "stop worrying, it's all stress anyway" - when really, there are greater health issues hat are simply being ignored by lazy doctors.
(I realize there is a larger cultural issue with the fact that women talking about their hoohahs in groups, let alone in public, is generally taboo, that open, educational dialogues about sex, reproduction, and all things girlie bits are too gross or too shocking... but that's a battle for another day.)
And don't even get me started on the latest legislation in this country that intrudes on a couple's privacy with regard to infertility treatment, including government mandated reporting of a woman's every miscarriage. (Residents of Michigan: please advocate to overturn these bills in your state senate!)
If we don't stand up for ourselves and for women's health, who is going to do it for us? Certainly not national task forces or the insurance industry, that much is apparent, because making blanket recommendations that clearly favor that a woman's stress level over her longevity is just irresponsible, and quite frankly, offensive. I've shared this with women I care about in this note, women who have been their own advocates for their own health. I encourage you to share this with other similar women in your lives, or better yet, those that haven't stood up for their own health rights.
We need to make our voices heard on these issues - they're gambling with our lives, ladies, and I don't like to see these kind of odds stacked against our sisters, mothers, and daughters. I invite you to raise your voice with me.
Recently, a national task force has made recommendations made about mammograms in women over 40. Today, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) has made recommendations to increase the age of initial pap smears to 21 instead of 18 and to do them every other year rather than annually.
My first question: what's with all of the recommendations about women's health all of a sudden? Why is the general consensus that less preventative screening is better? To reduce women's anxiety, as several articles on both subjects claim? Are you kidding me? Is this the Victorian era, where we need to be careful about the anxious tendencies in women and bouts of hysteria?
I'm calling bullshit on you, insurance industry.
Preventative medicine is expensive. Mammograms, pap smears - these annual exams cost the health care industry- and more importantly the insurance companies- a good chunk of change. So if a national task force makes a recommendation that no, your routine mammogram screening at 42 really isn't necessary, then your health insurance company has more leverage to say, "Sure, you can get your mammogram. But we won't cover it." What I find particularly concerning from ACOG about the new pap smear recommendations is that this greatly impacts younger women's health. Women in the prime of their lives are being told to put on the earmuffs about their own reproductive health- essentially, "don't worry about having pap smears annually b/c of false positives, because of stress" - at a time when women need to be the strongest advocates of their own reproductive health.
I'm concerned when recommendations on women's health are being made on a national scale for women to simply "Don't worry about it, b/c it might stress you out."
Are false positives stressful? Yes. Can abnormal pap smears or mammograms result in unnecessary surgery? Yes. But would you rather run the risk that by not getting screened, you miss a cancer in its earliest stages, and thus, at its best treatable stage? Tell me about stress and anxiety then, National Task Force Making Recommendations About Mammograms that had *no* oncologists on it?
Also stressful: women who can't afford to pay for those annual exams when their insurance denies their claim. FFS, there are people who've simply stopped taking their medicine altogether b/c they can't afford it in this economy right now.
I will admit, there are a million things I wished I had learned about my own reproductive health as a teenager. I wish, instead of being scared into pregnancy by just holding my boyfriend's hand, I was told about the realities and statistics surrounding conception. There's only so much health class will get into, and saying that high school sex ed scratches the surface is being generous. But at 18, I knew my first pap smear meant taking an active role in my sexual and reproductive health. In the last 9 years, I have learned that I need to be even MORE of an advocate for my own health, but annual exams at least kept my reproductive health on my radar. I'm so tired that women are told to "stop worrying, it's all stress anyway" - when really, there are greater health issues hat are simply being ignored by lazy doctors.
(I realize there is a larger cultural issue with the fact that women talking about their hoohahs in groups, let alone in public, is generally taboo, that open, educational dialogues about sex, reproduction, and all things girlie bits are too gross or too shocking... but that's a battle for another day.)
And don't even get me started on the latest legislation in this country that intrudes on a couple's privacy with regard to infertility treatment, including government mandated reporting of a woman's every miscarriage. (Residents of Michigan: please advocate to overturn these bills in your state senate!)
If we don't stand up for ourselves and for women's health, who is going to do it for us? Certainly not national task forces or the insurance industry, that much is apparent, because making blanket recommendations that clearly favor that a woman's stress level over her longevity is just irresponsible, and quite frankly, offensive. I've shared this with women I care about in this note, women who have been their own advocates for their own health. I encourage you to share this with other similar women in your lives, or better yet, those that haven't stood up for their own health rights.
We need to make our voices heard on these issues - they're gambling with our lives, ladies, and I don't like to see these kind of odds stacked against our sisters, mothers, and daughters. I invite you to raise your voice with me.
Is the chalice is half empty or half full?
Allow me to indulge in a little tarot and my inner Goddess. This past Monday I went to the Salem Red Tent Temple. I've been a few times, and a good friend of mine (let's call her Honeybee) is one of the organizers. The concept is simple: mirror the ancient practice of women gathering for their monthly cycle a la The Red Tent (a must read for every woman. A brilliant, moving, amazing work of literature). All women are welcomed, young, old, single, married, divorced, widowed, fertile, barren, red green blue or purple - you get the idea. Coinciding with the new moon each month, we sit, we lounge, we have soup, we make offerings to the Goddess*, we share stories, we cry, we laugh, we create art and meditate, nap, and support. It is a wonderful, wonderful gathering.
*Through these Red Tent Temples, I have come to terms with exploring the Divine Feminine, or Shekinah, in Judaism. At this point in my spiritual journey, I'm not looking to a Divine Masculine/Father figure: I'm looking to the Malkah Ha-Olam (Queen of the Universe). So while there's lots of Goddess talk, I'm not Pagan. I'm a Jew through and through, but I see Adonai in her feminine context right now as opposed to the more traditional Avinu Malkenu (Our Father, Our King).
There are a couple of decks of tarot cards and this week, someone brought Goddess cards. I asked my Honeybee to do a reading for me. Here's what I pulled from the Goddess Tarot deck:
While we didn't necessarily do this with the intent of a past-present-future spread, it certainly reads that way. The Princess of Swords (commonly known as the Knight of Swords) wades through the reeds, her blade ever-ready to strike. Honeybee noted how it seems as though she presents one face forward, looking rather dainty as she gathers up her skirts, but the back of her hair is disheveled, her sword drawn. In a way, it's putting forward one face while keeping a high level of defensiveness up; but she is again, ready to strike and thus able to do what she has to do to survive. My other friend, a High Priestess (let's call her HP for short), and I both noticed how much this card reminded us of the Egyptian Princess who recovers Moses from the reeds.
The second card I drew was an inverted Queen of Cups. A symbol of fertility, its inverted meaning was painfully obvious. The suit of Cups also draws heavily on emotion, and her inverted chalice represents an outpouring of emotion. HP seems to think it's not so much that I'm empty, but perhaps I've given too much of my self lately, and that perhaps I need others to fill my cup. In its normal position, the Queen looks quite stable in the tumultuous sea around her, but inverted, it's clearly a symbol of instability.
The final card I drew was Justice (VIII in the Major Arcana). In other decks, Justice is XI; typically VIII is Strength. She is represented by Athena, who as HP noted, is often associated with war and decked out in her armor. Here she is presented as the Weaver Goddess in flowing robes. Athena is actually the Goddess of Wisdom, and is a brilliant strategist. HP felt that Justice does not necessarily mean "winning" but a sense of victory all the same. What I was surprised to see was the element of water reflected in all of my cards: the Princess in the reeds, the Queen in her sea, and if you look closely, there is an aqueduct in the background of Justice. As HP noted, Athena is a strategist, so perhaps I will find solutions that I don't necessarily come to mind at first. It's a little of bit thinking outside the box. I also noted that an aqueduct has the ability to sustain whole populations and cities for generations to come. I also saw Masonic imagery with the two columns in the card image as well (Ari is a Mason).
So, to put it simply: my guard is up but I put forward an "everything is just peachy!" face, I'm an emotional wreck in a sea of infertile instability, and my sense of Justice will come through non-traditional solutions and through careful research. That's pretty spot on, I would think.
I also pulled three cards from the Goddess Oracle deck, and the first one I pulled was Artemis, pictured below:
The card represents Selfhood. I thought the image of the huntress with her hunted was quite powerful. She is bare-breasted, confident, patient. I also thought it was funny that she had her hair up (I often wear mine in a ponytail or up in a clip). She clearly has her sights set on her target, and there is an assuredness about her that she will obtain that hunt. Quite simply, I need to aim my sights on what it is that I really want out of life, and go for it.
. . .
Today it's been exactly 11 months since my last period. I have often said, over this last almost-year, that I have missed the tampons, the cramps, the bleeding. I've lost my sense of marking time. The Red Tent Temple I go to has given me back a sense of this cycle. There is power and comfort to be found in gatherings of women. I take this same philosophy back with me to the IF community: we need to share our stories, cry our tears together, laugh and celebrate together. It is vital to our survival, and ultimately, to the fundamental sisterhood we share. I could go on about this, but I recommend heading over to Sonja's blog for more on thoughts on sisterhood, community, and support.
Closing thoughts: I am reminded of an opening psalm often sung before Friday night Shabbos services:
To all my sisters in the IF community, and all my sisters everywhere: I hope you find peace and unity this weekend.
Shabbat Shalom.
*Through these Red Tent Temples, I have come to terms with exploring the Divine Feminine, or Shekinah, in Judaism. At this point in my spiritual journey, I'm not looking to a Divine Masculine/Father figure: I'm looking to the Malkah Ha-Olam (Queen of the Universe). So while there's lots of Goddess talk, I'm not Pagan. I'm a Jew through and through, but I see Adonai in her feminine context right now as opposed to the more traditional Avinu Malkenu (Our Father, Our King).
There are a couple of decks of tarot cards and this week, someone brought Goddess cards. I asked my Honeybee to do a reading for me. Here's what I pulled from the Goddess Tarot deck:
The second card I drew was an inverted Queen of Cups. A symbol of fertility, its inverted meaning was painfully obvious. The suit of Cups also draws heavily on emotion, and her inverted chalice represents an outpouring of emotion. HP seems to think it's not so much that I'm empty, but perhaps I've given too much of my self lately, and that perhaps I need others to fill my cup. In its normal position, the Queen looks quite stable in the tumultuous sea around her, but inverted, it's clearly a symbol of instability.
The final card I drew was Justice (VIII in the Major Arcana). In other decks, Justice is XI; typically VIII is Strength. She is represented by Athena, who as HP noted, is often associated with war and decked out in her armor. Here she is presented as the Weaver Goddess in flowing robes. Athena is actually the Goddess of Wisdom, and is a brilliant strategist. HP felt that Justice does not necessarily mean "winning" but a sense of victory all the same. What I was surprised to see was the element of water reflected in all of my cards: the Princess in the reeds, the Queen in her sea, and if you look closely, there is an aqueduct in the background of Justice. As HP noted, Athena is a strategist, so perhaps I will find solutions that I don't necessarily come to mind at first. It's a little of bit thinking outside the box. I also noted that an aqueduct has the ability to sustain whole populations and cities for generations to come. I also saw Masonic imagery with the two columns in the card image as well (Ari is a Mason).
So, to put it simply: my guard is up but I put forward an "everything is just peachy!" face, I'm an emotional wreck in a sea of infertile instability, and my sense of Justice will come through non-traditional solutions and through careful research. That's pretty spot on, I would think.
I also pulled three cards from the Goddess Oracle deck, and the first one I pulled was Artemis, pictured below:
. . .
Today it's been exactly 11 months since my last period. I have often said, over this last almost-year, that I have missed the tampons, the cramps, the bleeding. I've lost my sense of marking time. The Red Tent Temple I go to has given me back a sense of this cycle. There is power and comfort to be found in gatherings of women. I take this same philosophy back with me to the IF community: we need to share our stories, cry our tears together, laugh and celebrate together. It is vital to our survival, and ultimately, to the fundamental sisterhood we share. I could go on about this, but I recommend heading over to Sonja's blog for more on thoughts on sisterhood, community, and support.
Closing thoughts: I am reminded of an opening psalm often sung before Friday night Shabbos services:
הִנֵּה מַה טוֹב וּמַה נָּעִים שֶׁבֶת אָחִים גַּם יַחַד
Hinei ma tov u’manayim shevet akh-im gam ya-khad.
How good and pleasant it is to dwell together in unity.
To all my sisters in the IF community, and all my sisters everywhere: I hope you find peace and unity this weekend.
Shabbat Shalom.
November 18, 2009
Bitter Bettie bites back!
On the Inspire.com RESOLVE boards, someone posted almost the exact same lament I had about Facebook status updates on Monday. There were 75 replies at last count to this discussion, so it's comforting to know there are a lot of folks dealing with IF who share my woes/frustrations/occasionally Bitter Bettie moments:
So... here are the four facebook statuses that my friends have on the site right now... I haven't included their real names... to protect the "innocent".
1. Julie... found out her due date - May 25th, 2010.
2. Sarah... realizes that God didn't intended pregnant women to work 40 hour weeks.
3. Samantha...'s unborn child is very squirmy in her belly today.
And finally... my favorite... the pregnancy announcement status:
4. Maddy... is expecting #2!!
Yikes!! And so I started this discussion to put up my own facebook statuses - ones that wouldn't be appropriate in the real facebook world.
Soccer... drank too many glasses of wine last night because she couldn't bear another pregnancy facebook status update.
OR
Soccer... is still NOT pregnant. Horrible needles and hormone injections didn't work. Thanks for asking.
In the replies, someone posted this link: STFU, Parents. It's comedy gold. From their description:
You used to be fun. Now you have a baby. If you're being driven crazy by your friends' baby updates every time you check your status feed, please feel free to contribute to this blog.
Miriam's Disclaimer: I'm not parent bashing, I promise. I know I'll get my turn in the sun, and will probably do all of these things that currently annoy me. But for now, I'm on the other end of the spectrum, and things look differently from this side of the fence. So to the parents out there that are reading this, please don't take offense. Poor, tasteless humor is one of my favorite ways of dealing with the crap life deals you.
November 16, 2009
Call me a Bitter Bettie.
Warning: it's about to get ranty up in here.
Firstly: Gender Reveal Parties. Are. you. shitting. me. I just can't even go any further with this.
Secondly: Facebook pregnancy announcements. Do they annoy you as much as they annoy me?
I bring this up because I recently had a childhood friend of Ari's send me a random message on FB: Hey stranger. Hope you guys are doing well. Add me as a friend. We need to catch up!
Mind you, I don't really know this person very well. It's not like I grew up with her. I can count the number of times actually seen her on one hand, easily. Is it wrong that the infertile in me immediately jumps to "Oh, she wants me to friend her so she can tell me she's pregnant"? She was married about 6 months before Ari and I and this is the first I've heard from her since OUR wedding almost 2 years ago. It all rang fishy to me. I happened to be logged into my husband's FB account working on some fan page stuff for his new business, and saw a posting from her, almost verbatim, on his Wall. I told Ari my suspicions, and later that day, he told me that she sent him an instant message on FB and was like, "Hi! How are you? I'm pregnant!" in one sentence.
Ugh... Shallow much? I friended her, but I've hidden her on my feed, b/c really, I don't need the pregnancy play-by-play for the next however many months. What gets me more is that she wanted me to friend her for the express purpose of a) announcing her pregnancy and b) to fish for a compliment. (Edit: I have since preened my friends list and unfriended her.)
The next favorite thing to find on FB? Ultrasound photos. And 9 times out of 10, it's the u/s pic that's that actual pregnancy announcement, like this helpful article suggests you should do. Will I post tons of u/s pics online if/when I'm pregnant? Probably. In fact, I will probably do all of the stereotypical pregnant lady things, but I will have at least my IF lens to maybe, perhaps, have some degree of sensitivity to others. But for right now, it drives me nuts. I actually sigh deeply through clenched teeth when I see these kinds of announcements, thinking, "When the fuck is it going to me my turn?"
I think what's most annoying, is that these things catch us off guard. It leaves us raw and reeling in an area we think we're safe: we're checking our Farms in Farmville, offing some Russians in Mafia Wars, looking at photos of random weddings and BAM! reminders of our own shortcomings. Wasn't Facebook supposed to be a safe space? PerhapsI was just naive.
I've learned that dealing with infertility is learning the fine art of compartmentalizing one's emotions, and I think to a certain extent, keeping up one's guard a little higher than most. I've been working with my therapist to be OK with emoting when and how I need to, grieving when I need to, and being ok with laying out my terms for those closest to me. As much as it's ok for me to say no to things like baby showers, I can emotionally say no to other things, like how I hear news and updates. I've recently refiltered my blogroll as a number of courageous ladies I've followed have had incredible successes in conquering their IF. It's inspiring yes, but I find the big ugly green J(ealousy) rears its head sometimes, so I need to set aside that time and that headspace to check in on these now pregnant bloggers.
What it comes down to is realizing it's ok for me to do what I need to emotionally support myself. And this is hard, b/c I've got a bit of that mother hen/matyr complex, where I constantly provide emotionally for others and leave hardly anything for myself... and this is the one time in my life where it should really be the other way around. It's a bit of a paradigm shift for me, and I struggle with it. Maybe it's my fear of being called selfish? Maybe it's my own approval-seeking complex? Or maybe it's just the first time in my life I've just felt truly and deeply robbed of an opportunity. Regardless, I need to take care of myself, and I'll do what I gotta do, quite simply.
Another way I cope? Humor, such as my new favorite blog, 999 Reasons to Laugh at Infertility. Go check her out... it's a hoot.
How are other folks coping out there? How do you deal with the random comments, the FB announcements, and all those other fun blindsided reminders?
Firstly: Gender Reveal Parties. Are. you. shitting. me. I just can't even go any further with this.
Secondly: Facebook pregnancy announcements. Do they annoy you as much as they annoy me?
I bring this up because I recently had a childhood friend of Ari's send me a random message on FB: Hey stranger. Hope you guys are doing well. Add me as a friend. We need to catch up!
Mind you, I don't really know this person very well. It's not like I grew up with her. I can count the number of times actually seen her on one hand, easily. Is it wrong that the infertile in me immediately jumps to "Oh, she wants me to friend her so she can tell me she's pregnant"? She was married about 6 months before Ari and I and this is the first I've heard from her since OUR wedding almost 2 years ago. It all rang fishy to me. I happened to be logged into my husband's FB account working on some fan page stuff for his new business, and saw a posting from her, almost verbatim, on his Wall. I told Ari my suspicions, and later that day, he told me that she sent him an instant message on FB and was like, "Hi! How are you? I'm pregnant!" in one sentence.
Ugh... Shallow much? I friended her, but I've hidden her on my feed, b/c really, I don't need the pregnancy play-by-play for the next however many months. What gets me more is that she wanted me to friend her for the express purpose of a) announcing her pregnancy and b) to fish for a compliment. (Edit: I have since preened my friends list and unfriended her.)
The next favorite thing to find on FB? Ultrasound photos. And 9 times out of 10, it's the u/s pic that's that actual pregnancy announcement, like this helpful article suggests you should do. Will I post tons of u/s pics online if/when I'm pregnant? Probably. In fact, I will probably do all of the stereotypical pregnant lady things, but I will have at least my IF lens to maybe, perhaps, have some degree of sensitivity to others. But for right now, it drives me nuts. I actually sigh deeply through clenched teeth when I see these kinds of announcements, thinking, "When the fuck is it going to me my turn?"
I think what's most annoying, is that these things catch us off guard. It leaves us raw and reeling in an area we think we're safe: we're checking our Farms in Farmville, offing some Russians in Mafia Wars, looking at photos of random weddings and BAM! reminders of our own shortcomings. Wasn't Facebook supposed to be a safe space? PerhapsI was just naive.
I've learned that dealing with infertility is learning the fine art of compartmentalizing one's emotions, and I think to a certain extent, keeping up one's guard a little higher than most. I've been working with my therapist to be OK with emoting when and how I need to, grieving when I need to, and being ok with laying out my terms for those closest to me. As much as it's ok for me to say no to things like baby showers, I can emotionally say no to other things, like how I hear news and updates. I've recently refiltered my blogroll as a number of courageous ladies I've followed have had incredible successes in conquering their IF. It's inspiring yes, but I find the big ugly green J(ealousy) rears its head sometimes, so I need to set aside that time and that headspace to check in on these now pregnant bloggers.
What it comes down to is realizing it's ok for me to do what I need to emotionally support myself. And this is hard, b/c I've got a bit of that mother hen/matyr complex, where I constantly provide emotionally for others and leave hardly anything for myself... and this is the one time in my life where it should really be the other way around. It's a bit of a paradigm shift for me, and I struggle with it. Maybe it's my fear of being called selfish? Maybe it's my own approval-seeking complex? Or maybe it's just the first time in my life I've just felt truly and deeply robbed of an opportunity. Regardless, I need to take care of myself, and I'll do what I gotta do, quite simply.
Another way I cope? Humor, such as my new favorite blog, 999 Reasons to Laugh at Infertility. Go check her out... it's a hoot.
How are other folks coping out there? How do you deal with the random comments, the FB announcements, and all those other fun blindsided reminders?
November 12, 2009
Show & Tell 4: Japan
It's time for another Show and Tell post! Show and Tell is brought to you by Mel over at Stirrup Queens. Make sure to go and check out what the other kids are showing this week!
I promised to show off some pictures from our trip to Japan last month, so here they are! We spent two weeks in Japan from October 10-24, staying with my uncle for most of the time. He, my Aunt, and my Obachan (grandmother) were incredibly gracious hosts. We managed to visit eight cities (Nara, Osaka, Tokyo, Kobe, Arima, Iga-Ueno, Hiroshima, Kyoto) in just thirteen days! It was quite simply the most amazing trip of my life: beautiful, spiritual, renewing. relaxing. We took over 1300 pictures and nearly two hours of video. Here are some of my favorite shots from the trip:
You might recognize these torii (gates) from Memoirs of a Geisha. These are from Fuishimi Inari Taisha, just south of Kyoto where more than 10,000 vermillion torii snake their way around the mountain to a summit shrine honoring the Shinto god of rice, wine, business and prosperity, Inari. While we didn't make it to the summit, it was fun making our ascent through the dizzying orange labyrinth of gates. And the lady on the left? That would be me :)
I promised to show off some pictures from our trip to Japan last month, so here they are! We spent two weeks in Japan from October 10-24, staying with my uncle for most of the time. He, my Aunt, and my Obachan (grandmother) were incredibly gracious hosts. We managed to visit eight cities (Nara, Osaka, Tokyo, Kobe, Arima, Iga-Ueno, Hiroshima, Kyoto) in just thirteen days! It was quite simply the most amazing trip of my life: beautiful, spiritual, renewing. relaxing. We took over 1300 pictures and nearly two hours of video. Here are some of my favorite shots from the trip:
This is Dōtonbori in Osaka. It's crazy busy, loud, and boisterous. We liked Osaka. as it reminded us of Boston in terms of lots of the bars and restaurant scene, with lots of intriguing people. Also, the guy in the suit? That's my uncle! This is one of my favorite pics from the whole trip.
This is Tosen Shrine in Arima, in the mountains north of Kobe. Arima was probably our favorite city; it's a resort town with hot springs all over the mountain that are pumped to the various resorts. The shrine was an accidental find while wandering the city; I found out later that the Shinto gods believed to be housed here not only protect the city, but are fertility gods as well. This shrine is often venerated by childless couples hoping to conceive. Go fig, huh?
This is the A-Bomb Dome in Hiroshima. What a profound, beautiful, haunting day. The Hiroshima Peace Park and Museum were probably one of the most humbling experiences of my life. This A-Bomb Dome, originally a government building, has been perpetually maintained in its original ruined state since the day of the bombing in 1944. One of the few structures to survive the bombing, it is officially the last structure still standing from that day.
These are two incredible photos are from the Kurama no Hi-Matsuri in Kurama, just north of Kyoto. It's a fire festival where men, wearing nothing more than loin cloths and sashes (pictured top), carry giant torches - anywhere from 15-18ft in length weighing more than 150 lbs each - up and down the mountain in an attempt to call the Shinto god down from the mountain. These giant torches are then made into a huge bonfire (pictured bottom). This festival has been done every year for the last 1300 years. It was the most primal thing I've ever experienced and we feel really lucky to be witnessed it first-hand.
What's the coolest vacation or most relaxing trip you've ever been on?
November 10, 2009
The hardest letter to write.
This post my submission to the Creme de la Creme 2009 list maintainted by Stirrup Queens. This was also published in the Spring 2010 issue of the RESOLVE of New England newsletter.
Dear-
Well, this leaves me at an impasse. I'm writing a letter to someone I have never met, never named.
Let's try this again, shall we?
. . .
I began this letter as an exercise in grief, in letting go. The goal was simple: write a letter to the genetic child I'll never have - a textbook psychotherapy homework assignment. Each time I would craft some eloquent opening in my head, rolling it around on my tongue without committing to speak it aloud or put it to paper. I would have these passing thoughts like express trains, blurring past the local stops leaving a windy wake and the knowledge that a thought had passed through this station without stopping, intent on the same ultimate destination.
Each time I thought of crafting this letter, I would be a few sentences in when I realized I would jump right into the body of the letter and neglect the greeting. I was addressing a letter to an unnamed child, always resulting in an awkward two-sentence false start. Before I could commit to anything more than those two sentences, I went on happy tangential daydreams thinking of names. I think this is exactly what they mean when folks mention "that twinkle in your mother's eye." That twinkle is possibility, and what drives us is giving that possibility a name. It's like putting a lasso around the unknown: "I don't know what my child will look like, but I've got a name for them."
Infertility aside, I have no idea what my child will look like. Even if we could make a baby the old fashioned way, there's no way to predict the way mine and my husband's genetics would combine visually. After our vacation in Japan, I ached for an adorable little Japanese baby with their rubbed-the-wrong-way static electric hair. I am genuinely curious to see what a quarter-Japanese child would look like, rather, wanting to know what my quarter-Japanese baby would look like. Would he have big ears like his daddy? Would she have soft skin like her mommy? In the end, I don't know and for the first time on this crazy ride, I'm okay with not knowing.
Genetically, I've got some real beasts I'd potentially pass down: thyroid problems, obesity, a history of heart disease, diabetes, and cancer in my extended family, not to mention my own infertility issues. How cruel would it be to pass on my infertility to my daughter? It's just not ethical. But my thick dark hair, my rich brown eyes, and my high cheekbones: these are lost. My seemingly petite mouth and almond shaped eyes that can portray a myriad of exaggerated facial expressions at a given moment: those unique faces that are genetically passed down with the same facial muscle structuring ("oh he looks just like his mother when he laughs" or "she has her mommy's smile") - this legacy of visual expression is lost. I grieve for this face that should have been.
I grieve for this now lost moment when I look in my child's face and see myself, really see my genes and my visual characteristics. I grieve knowing that from an evolutionary standpoint, I didn't make the cut. I deeply grieve the loss of a child that is part me, part my husband, from their very fundamental genetic makeup. I grieve for the misplaced miracle in utero, where the very essence of me and my soulmate are joined by cosmic biology, a Darwinian leap of faith.
I hold this image of you tight in my arms: I smell your hair and stroke your cheek and smile back at the smile that looks just like mine. I cradle your face in my hands as you balance on tiptoes to reach up to me. I kiss you on the forehead, and release you like so many cells and dust and stars into the cosmos.
. . .
But you are still out there.
. . .
When your father and I met, we recognized something in one another. I saw a part of myself in him and he in me, that recognition of an old soul long separated into many pieces, as if to say, "Hello, at last. I have found the part of my soul that has been missing all these years." When we found each other, we fit our missing pieces together and found completion.
Or so we thought.
Let's not kid ourselves: we were only fifteen at the time. We had a little growing up to do.
. . .
After a heaping tablespoon of the real world, we could maturely interpret and internalize just what it means to be soulmates. We wanted everyone to know and share in our joy with each other. We wanted to shout it to the rooftops and we did - we were surrounded by our loving family and so many dear friends as we told the world: "Here! Here is my heart, my joy, my breath! I have found the one in whom my soul delights." We danced and danced and danced and as we each clung to a corner of a red napkin, hoisted high on the shoulders of those that love us, we were truly a reconnected old soul, laughing with joy and contentment.
The stars laughed with us that night.
. . .
What I have realized is that you are still out there. You are that little piece that has been missing from our souls and while it might take me a little time to find you, I know you're out there. You may not look the way I thought you would, but I will love and welcome and cherish you just the same. And when your father sees you, he'll remember you too and say smiling, "Hello at last, little one! We've been looking for you. Come, tell us of your travels! We have so much to share with you."
I will look into your eyes and I will recognize you from so long ago, thankful that we've found you after all this time.
. . .
In the clear night sky, the stars hang hopeful.
November 9, 2009
A truly restorative weekend.
The RESOLVE of the Bay State Annual Conference on Saturday was just amazing. I'm so glad Ari and I went - we did some seriously deep soul-searching, some crying (well, I did the crying), and engaged in some very cathartic dialogue with people who get it - who really understand what this crazy world of IF is all about. It was so empowering to feel that we weren't alone, and that in some ways, we were lucky (I never thought I'd use that word in this context) that I was Dx'd so young with POF. Ari and I were easily the youngest couple there; it seemed like the average age was in the mid-30s, but there were a large number of women and couples in their early-40s. There was a pretty large turnout- at least 200 people.
The keynote speaker was Dr. Ali Domar. Her address really resonated with us; she spoke to all of the textbook points about how infertility and stress go hand in hand in a vicious cycle. While I've read this myself, there's something different about a) hearing it from a leading professional in the field and b) seeing nods of validation and experience around the room. It was also reasurring to hear as IF referred to as a crisis, and how for many couples, this is their first major crisis that they've ever had to handle together. Dr. Domar supported her statements with a variety of research studies confirming the link b/t IF and stress and how they each impact each other. One particularly striking study revealed that the levels of depression and stress felt by women coping with IF is matched equally with women who are being treated for cancer. I felt like all of the mental time I've devoted to our situation is not not entirely for naught, in the sense that it's completly normal. It feels all-encompassing b/c it is all-encompassing.
For our first session, we headed to Dr. Domar's more topic focused workshop on the Mind/Body approach to treating IF. Ari and I have both been experiencing increased levels of anxiety and stress recently, and this session really provided some insight on how reigning in the stress could greatly improve our chances later on down the line once we're pursuing IVF. She presented enough compelling research that I'm seriously considering doing one of her 10-week Mind/Body programs in the near future.
Our second session was a panel discussion on Donor Egg v. Adoption. What an eye-opener! I went in very pro DE and Ari very much for adoption. By the end of it, our horizons had been broadened significantly and we've flip-flopped on our stances. For me, adoption is a 100% guarantee of coming home with a child. For Ari, DE is almost half the cost of adoption given the clinical coverage provided by MA insurance companies. It certainly got us talking.
At lunch, we met two other couples, both in their mid-30s. One couple was even from our town, and the wife seemed very on-guard. You could just tell this has been a particularly hard journey; she implied they had already completed several failed procedures. The other couple seemed relatively new to IF as well, and were researching everything about IVF. While it was nice to feel validated, lunch was awkward. In those moments of silence where all of a sudden that pasta I'm eating is just SO interesting, my head was reeling: just what IS the social etiquette of the IF face-to-face community? Is asking about diagnoses rude? Are the number of procedures none of my business? Can I ask how old you are? It was simply fascinating from a sociological/communication standpoint.
After lunch, we skipped out on the next session- we wanted to go to an Adoption Overview: Domestic v. International b/c it was one area I haven't poured tons of research into, so it would be helpful to get more info. We were just so overloaded with information we kind of needed a break. We were also torn over a silent auction item: a full donor agency package- agency fee, escrow services, legal fees (worth about $7500) for a minimum bid of $1500. All the bidder would have to pay would be the donor fee (~$8000). It would cut a DE cycle practically in half, and we thought, we can swing a bid of up to $2K if we had to. We had this very excited conversation about all of the possibilities of DE, but when we went to leave our bid, they had added that the package must be activated within 6 months. We were crushed - we're just not in a place to start anything within a year or more, much less 6 months. It spiraled into a huge conversation about Ari's new business, my present work situation - it got heavy. I felt like the whole day had been ruined.
We were redeemed in our last session, about Dealing with the Outside World. A panel of two support group leaders and a life coach led a guided conversation about coping. One woman spoke about the sense of a loss of control, which I was completely relating to in that moment after the whole silent auction debacle. One panelist recommended about taking a step back, living in the moment and being present, then waiting one month or six months and re-evaluating, but not to let that sense of lost control pull you away from life, from living in the moment.
While I didn't necessarily get the specific gem of info I was looking for, it was so cathartic to simply speak freely within a group who gets it. I got very emotional at one point while speaking, and I caught myself - it's social conformity- and the life coach and several other women were like, "Let yourself cry- it's ok! This is the safe space to do it." Afterward, such relief. While I do like my therapist, I will be seriously investigating support groups after this. Speaking of my therapist, I ran into her at the Conference at the end of the day, and got to introduce her to Ari. I was amused that she said, "It's nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you!" I'm not sure that's something anyone wants to hear from their partner's therapist ^__^
In all, it was a fantastic experience full of valuable information. It's a lot to digest at once, but I think we've come out richer and more knowledgeable on the other side. For the first time in several months, I've come out with a genuine sense of hope.
The keynote speaker was Dr. Ali Domar. Her address really resonated with us; she spoke to all of the textbook points about how infertility and stress go hand in hand in a vicious cycle. While I've read this myself, there's something different about a) hearing it from a leading professional in the field and b) seeing nods of validation and experience around the room. It was also reasurring to hear as IF referred to as a crisis, and how for many couples, this is their first major crisis that they've ever had to handle together. Dr. Domar supported her statements with a variety of research studies confirming the link b/t IF and stress and how they each impact each other. One particularly striking study revealed that the levels of depression and stress felt by women coping with IF is matched equally with women who are being treated for cancer. I felt like all of the mental time I've devoted to our situation is not not entirely for naught, in the sense that it's completly normal. It feels all-encompassing b/c it is all-encompassing.
For our first session, we headed to Dr. Domar's more topic focused workshop on the Mind/Body approach to treating IF. Ari and I have both been experiencing increased levels of anxiety and stress recently, and this session really provided some insight on how reigning in the stress could greatly improve our chances later on down the line once we're pursuing IVF. She presented enough compelling research that I'm seriously considering doing one of her 10-week Mind/Body programs in the near future.
Our second session was a panel discussion on Donor Egg v. Adoption. What an eye-opener! I went in very pro DE and Ari very much for adoption. By the end of it, our horizons had been broadened significantly and we've flip-flopped on our stances. For me, adoption is a 100% guarantee of coming home with a child. For Ari, DE is almost half the cost of adoption given the clinical coverage provided by MA insurance companies. It certainly got us talking.
At lunch, we met two other couples, both in their mid-30s. One couple was even from our town, and the wife seemed very on-guard. You could just tell this has been a particularly hard journey; she implied they had already completed several failed procedures. The other couple seemed relatively new to IF as well, and were researching everything about IVF. While it was nice to feel validated, lunch was awkward. In those moments of silence where all of a sudden that pasta I'm eating is just SO interesting, my head was reeling: just what IS the social etiquette of the IF face-to-face community? Is asking about diagnoses rude? Are the number of procedures none of my business? Can I ask how old you are? It was simply fascinating from a sociological/communication standpoint.
After lunch, we skipped out on the next session- we wanted to go to an Adoption Overview: Domestic v. International b/c it was one area I haven't poured tons of research into, so it would be helpful to get more info. We were just so overloaded with information we kind of needed a break. We were also torn over a silent auction item: a full donor agency package- agency fee, escrow services, legal fees (worth about $7500) for a minimum bid of $1500. All the bidder would have to pay would be the donor fee (~$8000). It would cut a DE cycle practically in half, and we thought, we can swing a bid of up to $2K if we had to. We had this very excited conversation about all of the possibilities of DE, but when we went to leave our bid, they had added that the package must be activated within 6 months. We were crushed - we're just not in a place to start anything within a year or more, much less 6 months. It spiraled into a huge conversation about Ari's new business, my present work situation - it got heavy. I felt like the whole day had been ruined.
We were redeemed in our last session, about Dealing with the Outside World. A panel of two support group leaders and a life coach led a guided conversation about coping. One woman spoke about the sense of a loss of control, which I was completely relating to in that moment after the whole silent auction debacle. One panelist recommended about taking a step back, living in the moment and being present, then waiting one month or six months and re-evaluating, but not to let that sense of lost control pull you away from life, from living in the moment.
While I didn't necessarily get the specific gem of info I was looking for, it was so cathartic to simply speak freely within a group who gets it. I got very emotional at one point while speaking, and I caught myself - it's social conformity- and the life coach and several other women were like, "Let yourself cry- it's ok! This is the safe space to do it." Afterward, such relief. While I do like my therapist, I will be seriously investigating support groups after this. Speaking of my therapist, I ran into her at the Conference at the end of the day, and got to introduce her to Ari. I was amused that she said, "It's nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you!" I'm not sure that's something anyone wants to hear from their partner's therapist ^__^
In all, it was a fantastic experience full of valuable information. It's a lot to digest at once, but I think we've come out richer and more knowledgeable on the other side. For the first time in several months, I've come out with a genuine sense of hope.
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