...everything as I imagined it, changed. The way I thought my life would go, that traditional path- these no longer became realistic options. One year ago today, I read, dumbstruck, this email from my doctor:
"[The results], if they are to be believed, indicate that premature ovarian failure is the problem, not PCOS dysfunction/follicular maturation arrest as you, I and your previous caregivers had presumed."
It was literally my worst nightmare come true. I felt robbed. I knew something was wrong with my body, but I hadn't prepared myself for the worst case scenario. I still remember when I read that email at work, I literally felt like all the air had been sucked out from my lungs, from the room, the volume turning down and heard a high pitched ringing in my ears. I was, quite simply, shell-shocked.
And, I can say confidently, after a year of soul-searching, introspection, therapy, crying, blogging, laughing, talking and talking and talking and talking and talking with my husband, my family, my friends - I'm okay with that change. I'm not thrilled, I'm not throwin' a party for myself- but I'm okay with it all. It is what it is, and we adjust accordingly.
Almost exactly this time last year, I was sobbing in my apartment, on the phone with my husband, who had received news that same day, nearly a few hours before, that he might be losing his job in the next week, crying and terrified and trying to make sense of it all. This year, the apartment is spring-cleaned, the windows are open, and Ari was on his way out the door to meet with a client. I've only got a few hours' sleep to my name, but I'm feeling refreshed, invigorated, and soaking up the gentle spring breezes and sunshine. I made it a point to sweep and dust and clean and just general say, "Out with you, you wretched year!"
I picked up my husband from the airport. I had one of my favorite salads for lunch (Whole Foods' Cranberry Pecan Feta with Balsamic over Mesclun Mix). I bought myself a lovely bouquet of tulips. I'm wearing one of my absolutely favorite shirts (I bought it for a quarter from a thrift store in college; it's some 7-year old's little league shirt, complete with their last name and number on the back). I'm wearing a bracelet I've had since 7th grade but haven't worn because it broke years and years ago- so I fixed it last week with my new jewelry making habit and brought new life to it. I'm wearing the kickass handmade watch I bought in Kyoto. I've got a massage lined up at 3:30pm, and I'm buying us a new teapot, since ours literally fell apart this morning while cleaning. I'm also buying a little Wet Jet cleaner because a) I've always wanted one and b) I really need to mop, and our mop sucks.
Last year I was dreading Passover because I was having a crisis of faith. This year, I need to get my ass in gear and get a menu together b/c we're hosting our first seder at our place. Last year, I stumbled blindly through this day. This year, I'm blinded only by the sunshine every time I keep looking up at this expanse of pale blue. I don't know if it's the estrogen or the weather, but I'm feeling the best I've felt in a year.
I've come to a place of peace, a point of recognition, and the moment to start taking action. I've mourned and I've grieved and I'm sure I still have plenty of tears left. But I'm done spiraling down. I do what I've always done: I get back up, brush off my bum, hope too many people didn't see me fall flat on my ass and if they did fuck 'em, and I keep going. Did I scrape myself when I fell down? Of course, and that immediate stinging pain of skin on pavement hurt like hell. Now I've got an interesting little scar with its own story. I've learned that I need to be careful where I walk and pay attention to the road. I've learned that bandaids and ointments will treat the wound, but that I will always remember the moment I fell and carry with me the pain. I've learned to ask those around me to help me back up.
Premature ovarian failure. What a helluva name, right? Even premature ovarian insufficiency isn't necessarily a kinder form of nomenclature. Nobody wants to be thought of as a failure or insufficient. I'm not a failure, I'm just infertile. And I think today, I'm going to stop whipping out my diagnosis like it's my fucking title on my business card. I've always had to clarify: "I have premature ovarian failure..." Fuck it. It's just a busted organ (I have two actually- it's just a matter of time before the thyroid stops working entirely).
It's not cancer, I'm still able-bodied: it's about putting it in perspective. Should I still live a long and full life? Absolutely. Will we still be able to build a family? Of course, just not in the way we planned... and that's okay. Like a good scar, I'll have an interesting story to tell.
An interesting story to tell our children, and their children, and their childrens' children.
Showing posts with label Milestones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Milestones. Show all posts
March 18, 2010
March 15, 2010
The luck o'the Irish.
Believe it or not, in addition to being a half-Japanese Jew-by-choice, I'm also Irish (thanks Mom!) :) It accounts for the freckles and ability to tan quickly, but the Japanese keeps me from getting sunburnt usually. I believe it also accounts for my new-found affinity for beer. While I'm still on the fence about cabbage, I love a good corned beef sandwich, which satiates both the Irish and the Jew in me.
Wednesday is St. Patrick's Day. I've never been a big fan of it as an excuse to drink oneself stupid, b/c really, I don't need an excuse to do that. I want to get wasted, don't you worry- I'll make it happen (which is perhaps a bimonthly occasion at best; I've lost the resolve of my college-aged youth). St. Patrick's Day in Boston, much less on a college campus that's still in session and looking at spring break just 2 days later... God help me. As far as I'm concerned, it's just another day.
It's Thursday I'm not looking forward to.
I can't believe it... Thursday will be a year since I got my dx. I still remember reading the email from my doctor and feeling like I couldn't hear anymore, like someone just quickly turned down the volume around me and the light faded at the corners of my vision. Perhaps I nearly passed out at my desk. I had always known that POF was a possibility, but I thought there's no way it would be me.
I remember reading the email right before lunch, and then heading wordlessly out my office to my apartment. I called Ari in a panic. He didn't totally understand, and I don't think I did either. He had already received word that morning that layoffs would be hitting his company in the next week or so, and this news landed like a second ton of bricks for the day. When it rains, it pours.
I spent the rest of the day reading everything I could online, work be damned. I went home, I read some more, I cried some more. Ari came home from work, and I just broke down. He assured me he still loved me, thought me no less of a wife or woman, and promised me that we'd find a way to have a family. We went into Cambridge to pick up some compounded medicine for me, a scrip for prometrium to try and induce endometrial shedding since I was pushing almost 3 months of amenorrhea. We wandered around Harvard, Central, and Inman Squares- the streets became a blur. It was grey and damp out. We ended up at Bukowski's. We ordered wings, and cried during dinner. It was awkward. I remember telling Ari that I felt like I was watching whole futures disappear: running out of the bathroom with a postive pg test and telling him he was going to be a Daddy...
In retrospect, I know this could still be a possibility.
I remember walking for what felt like hours with Ari, holding hands so tightly to the point of pain, trying to find the nearst T-stop so we could just go home. Really, we walked for probably 40 minutes or so after dinner. I called my parents and my sister. Ari called his parents. Everyone cried. Everyone was sorry, like they had gotten the news that someone has just died. And in a way, mourning seemed only appropriate.
I woke up feeling hungover from all the crying the next morning. I woke up a little darker the next day, a part of me that I don't think I can ever recover, a little light taken out of my naturally small tank of optimism.
March 18th was the day everything changed. I approach this anniversary a very different woman than I was a year ago, with vastly different goals and dreams and hopes and fears. I'm making career decisions based on benefits and whether the employer's healthcare is part of the Massachusetts mandate. I look at international adoption as a chance to get some world traveling done. I've stopped wondering what a half-Ari, half-Miri baby will look like. I've developed a more comfortable relationship with needles. I need to decide what's more important in the short term: a downpayment on a house, or the expense to build a family. I've had to rethink what it means to be Jewish in the context of ART and adoption. I've nearly lost my faith.
So yeah, not really looking forward to Thursday. I need to do something nice for myeslf that day; I'm trying to see if I can get the day off (my boss is being... passive-aggressive, as usual, since I was out sick with food poisoning 2 days last week, so apparently it's damn presumptious to ask for a day off this week). I need to certainly do something to feel feminine and womanly, to reclaim the day.
I need to mark this time, and then move on.
Wednesday is St. Patrick's Day. I've never been a big fan of it as an excuse to drink oneself stupid, b/c really, I don't need an excuse to do that. I want to get wasted, don't you worry- I'll make it happen (which is perhaps a bimonthly occasion at best; I've lost the resolve of my college-aged youth). St. Patrick's Day in Boston, much less on a college campus that's still in session and looking at spring break just 2 days later... God help me. As far as I'm concerned, it's just another day.
It's Thursday I'm not looking forward to.
I can't believe it... Thursday will be a year since I got my dx. I still remember reading the email from my doctor and feeling like I couldn't hear anymore, like someone just quickly turned down the volume around me and the light faded at the corners of my vision. Perhaps I nearly passed out at my desk. I had always known that POF was a possibility, but I thought there's no way it would be me.
I remember reading the email right before lunch, and then heading wordlessly out my office to my apartment. I called Ari in a panic. He didn't totally understand, and I don't think I did either. He had already received word that morning that layoffs would be hitting his company in the next week or so, and this news landed like a second ton of bricks for the day. When it rains, it pours.
I spent the rest of the day reading everything I could online, work be damned. I went home, I read some more, I cried some more. Ari came home from work, and I just broke down. He assured me he still loved me, thought me no less of a wife or woman, and promised me that we'd find a way to have a family. We went into Cambridge to pick up some compounded medicine for me, a scrip for prometrium to try and induce endometrial shedding since I was pushing almost 3 months of amenorrhea. We wandered around Harvard, Central, and Inman Squares- the streets became a blur. It was grey and damp out. We ended up at Bukowski's. We ordered wings, and cried during dinner. It was awkward. I remember telling Ari that I felt like I was watching whole futures disappear: running out of the bathroom with a postive pg test and telling him he was going to be a Daddy...
In retrospect, I know this could still be a possibility.
I remember walking for what felt like hours with Ari, holding hands so tightly to the point of pain, trying to find the nearst T-stop so we could just go home. Really, we walked for probably 40 minutes or so after dinner. I called my parents and my sister. Ari called his parents. Everyone cried. Everyone was sorry, like they had gotten the news that someone has just died. And in a way, mourning seemed only appropriate.
I woke up feeling hungover from all the crying the next morning. I woke up a little darker the next day, a part of me that I don't think I can ever recover, a little light taken out of my naturally small tank of optimism.
March 18th was the day everything changed. I approach this anniversary a very different woman than I was a year ago, with vastly different goals and dreams and hopes and fears. I'm making career decisions based on benefits and whether the employer's healthcare is part of the Massachusetts mandate. I look at international adoption as a chance to get some world traveling done. I've stopped wondering what a half-Ari, half-Miri baby will look like. I've developed a more comfortable relationship with needles. I need to decide what's more important in the short term: a downpayment on a house, or the expense to build a family. I've had to rethink what it means to be Jewish in the context of ART and adoption. I've nearly lost my faith.
So yeah, not really looking forward to Thursday. I need to do something nice for myeslf that day; I'm trying to see if I can get the day off (my boss is being... passive-aggressive, as usual, since I was out sick with food poisoning 2 days last week, so apparently it's damn presumptious to ask for a day off this week). I need to certainly do something to feel feminine and womanly, to reclaim the day.
I need to mark this time, and then move on.
January 27, 2010
Two years and still head over heels
Yesterday Ari and I celebrated two years together. It's kind of nuts, what we've been through in the first two years of marriage already, but we've come out stronger and closer. I'm still just as in love with him as the day I walked down the aisle. We went to a lovely French bistro for dinner, and he surprised me with my anniversary gift: an edited video of our wedding! We knew we had footage of our wedding, but it disappeared among family for almost a year and a half, and finally made our way back into our hands about 6 months ago. Ari recut the footage and we watched our whole ceremony (I never realized just how long our wedding ceremony was - almost 40 minutes!) and some speeches, the Hora, and some quintessentially NJ wedding dancing (Guns N Roses Livin' on a Prayer, Journey's Don't Stop Believin, and DJ Kool's Let Me Clear My Throat). It was the first time I'd really seen anything other than our pictures, and it was fun to relive those moments that feel so long ago, but in truth, were only two years ago.
Since it was the cotton anniversary, I made us t-shirts that say Team Z---, Est. 2008. On the back of Ari's it says 01 in big athletic numbers. On mine, 02. And yes, I bought the very first item for the child I don't have: a youth sized small t-shirt. The plan? When we get there, making another Team Z shirt with a big 03 on the back. And I bought it not b/c I'm pining for an impossibility, but b/c I'm excited for the future and feeling really hopeful.
A year ago, we had just gotten back from a whirlwind 5-day tour of California (San Fran to San Diego). I had baby fever like whoa, but right after the trip, it had calmed down somewhat. You can't really fit a carseat into a 2-seater Corvette Converible and just hop on the Pacific Coast Highway on a whim. And then 2009 just went to shit.
2010 has already started on a much better note. We're still going strong, we're feeling more comfortable in our family building plans, and things on the Ari's job front have really picked up. He's got an interview next Friday, a company that reached out to him and asked him to apply, another company that's willing to create a full-time position just for him, and then the latest... well, he may as well have gotten an offer letter last Thursday, quite spontaneously. He got a one line email from a former colleague: "How do you feel about Miami?" After a very positive conversation yesterday where numbers got thrown around that weren't laughed at, things could get very interesting for us very quickly. I'm still on the fence about moving and starting over again, but if the money's good... sometimes it's worth it to sellout in the short term for long term investments.
Other good news? My lady bits are feeling like lady bits again. I'm in this constant state of feeling like I'm PMS-ing, so that's a good thing, right? Who knows what's going on down there, but for now, I'll take it.
Only one small gripe, out of all this goodness lately... I got my first "so when are you having kids" comment, ever. My sister posted a lovely status wishing Ari and I a happy anniversary, and wishing us a year filled with good things. A commenter added "And another baby!" Commenter has no clue about our situation, as far as I know. It's all good- a harmless, throwaway comment from someone I've talked to maybe twice in my life- but even after almost 11 months, it still lands weird. Had this comment been made 6 months ago, different story. I can look at this momentary gripe as a way of looking at how I've grown.
Does my diagnosis still hurt? Absolutely. Do I still wish I could have my own genetic children? Every day. But have I let my infertility consume me? Despite my IF coloring the way I look at the world, has it defined me, defeated me?
No, no it hasn't.
It's not so much that I've moved on or moved past this, rather, I've accepted it, accepted what I need to do to move forward from here, and accepted that I'm still an ok person, and that even though my life isn't going according to plan (does it ever??) I'll make it work.
And I'll come out stronger in the end.
In other news, I will hopefully find out if I'm going to be the Auntie of a neice or nephew a week from today... exciting! Spud has not been cooperating very well during u/s - Spud's a bit camera shy. My bets are on a girl. Everyone else seems to think it'll be a boy. Hopefully we'll know more in a week!
Since it was the cotton anniversary, I made us t-shirts that say Team Z---, Est. 2008. On the back of Ari's it says 01 in big athletic numbers. On mine, 02. And yes, I bought the very first item for the child I don't have: a youth sized small t-shirt. The plan? When we get there, making another Team Z shirt with a big 03 on the back. And I bought it not b/c I'm pining for an impossibility, but b/c I'm excited for the future and feeling really hopeful.
A year ago, we had just gotten back from a whirlwind 5-day tour of California (San Fran to San Diego). I had baby fever like whoa, but right after the trip, it had calmed down somewhat. You can't really fit a carseat into a 2-seater Corvette Converible and just hop on the Pacific Coast Highway on a whim. And then 2009 just went to shit.
2010 has already started on a much better note. We're still going strong, we're feeling more comfortable in our family building plans, and things on the Ari's job front have really picked up. He's got an interview next Friday, a company that reached out to him and asked him to apply, another company that's willing to create a full-time position just for him, and then the latest... well, he may as well have gotten an offer letter last Thursday, quite spontaneously. He got a one line email from a former colleague: "How do you feel about Miami?" After a very positive conversation yesterday where numbers got thrown around that weren't laughed at, things could get very interesting for us very quickly. I'm still on the fence about moving and starting over again, but if the money's good... sometimes it's worth it to sellout in the short term for long term investments.
Other good news? My lady bits are feeling like lady bits again. I'm in this constant state of feeling like I'm PMS-ing, so that's a good thing, right? Who knows what's going on down there, but for now, I'll take it.
Only one small gripe, out of all this goodness lately... I got my first "so when are you having kids" comment, ever. My sister posted a lovely status wishing Ari and I a happy anniversary, and wishing us a year filled with good things. A commenter added "And another baby!" Commenter has no clue about our situation, as far as I know. It's all good- a harmless, throwaway comment from someone I've talked to maybe twice in my life- but even after almost 11 months, it still lands weird. Had this comment been made 6 months ago, different story. I can look at this momentary gripe as a way of looking at how I've grown.
Does my diagnosis still hurt? Absolutely. Do I still wish I could have my own genetic children? Every day. But have I let my infertility consume me? Despite my IF coloring the way I look at the world, has it defined me, defeated me?
No, no it hasn't.
It's not so much that I've moved on or moved past this, rather, I've accepted it, accepted what I need to do to move forward from here, and accepted that I'm still an ok person, and that even though my life isn't going according to plan (does it ever??) I'll make it work.
And I'll come out stronger in the end.
In other news, I will hopefully find out if I'm going to be the Auntie of a neice or nephew a week from today... exciting! Spud has not been cooperating very well during u/s - Spud's a bit camera shy. My bets are on a girl. Everyone else seems to think it'll be a boy. Hopefully we'll know more in a week!
January 12, 2010
My Two Week Wait
Ha! Gotcha didn't I?
It's two weeks until my two-year wedding anniversary. It's pretty crazy to think that this time two years ago I was finalizing seating charts and making lots of illegal photocopies of wedding programs at work, and, amazingly enough, still tracking down RSVPs (we had a few stragglers).
I remember thinking- how is life going to be different? We'd already been living together for almost 4 years at the point, and dating for over 7 years at that point. We'd been engaged just shy of 2 years - I mean really, how could things be different for us?
On the morning of my wedding, at 7am, I went for a run. I am not exactly a "go for a run" kind of lady, but I put on something warm, loaded up my iPod with all sorts of girl-power tracks, and jogged/ran about 2 miles on the track at the park near my parents' house. I had a nice long conversation with myself about being a good wife to my husband, but at the same time thinking "What does that even mean?" As far as I and a lot of other people were concerned, our wedding was just a formality. Ari and I were long committed to each other - we were soulmates, we were in love - that's all a marriage needs... right?
While it didn't happen the moment we signed our ketubah, there certainly was a mental shift, a sense of both belonging and responsibility unlike that which I've felt before. Ari wasn't just the guy that helped pay half the rent anymore (to be fair though, I don't think I ever regarded him in that light; it was more to make a point). Suddenly, decisions about big purchases or jobs or whatever took on a whole new perspective; having a spouse carried a greater sense of responsibility unlike any I'd really been able to understand up until that point. I felt, curiously, like a grown up for the first time.
I went to a peer-led RESOLVE support group last week, and another woman there had a similar experience to Ari and I - female-factor, early in the marriage, Dx before TTC. She stated that she felt like her infertility has unfortunately defined so much of their marriage. In a lot of ways, I can really relate. Just a couple of months after our 1st wedding anniversary, we get handed a bombshell. And then a layoff. And then lots of other craptacular stuff that just rained down on us in 2009. But here we are, 2 weeks away from anniversary numero two, still intact, albeit a little bruised.
Amazingly, what could have driven some couples apart has managed to bring us closer together. Our marriage has never felt stronger. My friendship to my husband has never felt deeper. I used to be paranoid, in the fiancee days, that we wouldn't have anything to talk about as we grew old together. How wrong I was: we talk all the damn time, from the latest internet meme to vacation plans to deep philosophical crap on the meaning of human existence. Sometimes a conversation might just be fart noises and butt jokes. Sometimes we have these moments of complete crystal clarity: vulnerable, terrified, and desperate for validation. But always, we are there together, side by side, and ready to take on the next big adventure.
It's weird, after everything we've been through, it's hard to believe it's only two years, cuz damn, it feels like 4 or 5, easily.
It's two weeks until my two-year wedding anniversary. It's pretty crazy to think that this time two years ago I was finalizing seating charts and making lots of illegal photocopies of wedding programs at work, and, amazingly enough, still tracking down RSVPs (we had a few stragglers).
I remember thinking- how is life going to be different? We'd already been living together for almost 4 years at the point, and dating for over 7 years at that point. We'd been engaged just shy of 2 years - I mean really, how could things be different for us?
On the morning of my wedding, at 7am, I went for a run. I am not exactly a "go for a run" kind of lady, but I put on something warm, loaded up my iPod with all sorts of girl-power tracks, and jogged/ran about 2 miles on the track at the park near my parents' house. I had a nice long conversation with myself about being a good wife to my husband, but at the same time thinking "What does that even mean?" As far as I and a lot of other people were concerned, our wedding was just a formality. Ari and I were long committed to each other - we were soulmates, we were in love - that's all a marriage needs... right?
While it didn't happen the moment we signed our ketubah, there certainly was a mental shift, a sense of both belonging and responsibility unlike that which I've felt before. Ari wasn't just the guy that helped pay half the rent anymore (to be fair though, I don't think I ever regarded him in that light; it was more to make a point). Suddenly, decisions about big purchases or jobs or whatever took on a whole new perspective; having a spouse carried a greater sense of responsibility unlike any I'd really been able to understand up until that point. I felt, curiously, like a grown up for the first time.
I went to a peer-led RESOLVE support group last week, and another woman there had a similar experience to Ari and I - female-factor, early in the marriage, Dx before TTC. She stated that she felt like her infertility has unfortunately defined so much of their marriage. In a lot of ways, I can really relate. Just a couple of months after our 1st wedding anniversary, we get handed a bombshell. And then a layoff. And then lots of other craptacular stuff that just rained down on us in 2009. But here we are, 2 weeks away from anniversary numero two, still intact, albeit a little bruised.
Amazingly, what could have driven some couples apart has managed to bring us closer together. Our marriage has never felt stronger. My friendship to my husband has never felt deeper. I used to be paranoid, in the fiancee days, that we wouldn't have anything to talk about as we grew old together. How wrong I was: we talk all the damn time, from the latest internet meme to vacation plans to deep philosophical crap on the meaning of human existence. Sometimes a conversation might just be fart noises and butt jokes. Sometimes we have these moments of complete crystal clarity: vulnerable, terrified, and desperate for validation. But always, we are there together, side by side, and ready to take on the next big adventure.
It's weird, after everything we've been through, it's hard to believe it's only two years, cuz damn, it feels like 4 or 5, easily.
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.
May 25, 2009
Happy Birthday to Me
In the last minute of my birthday today, I had to squeeze in a post. This weekend has been wonderful. It hasn't been about tests, or babies, or uncertainty. This birthday was a weekend of firsts.
In looking back over the last year, a lot has happened:
*raises glass*
Cheers.
- I fired my first gun! Arieh took me to a shooting range, something I have always wanted to try, and have been too terrified to do so. It was nervewracking and liberating all at once. For the first time ever firing a gun, I'm not half bad. In that moment when the safety was off, my finger on the trigger, and I was ready to fire the first shot, I thought of only one thing looking down my sights: I will fucking beat infertility and I will take back everything it's tried to take from me.
- I planted my first garden! It's a clandestine, contraband garden. We live on a college campus, so starting our own landscaping is a bit of a no-no.... except we have a nice secluded patch of dirt near our apartment, so we've claimed it as our own. It's wonderful to have started growing something like this - it was actually A's idea, and so I'm glad we're growing something together. Albeit "illegally" ;) It's mostly marigolds and some salvia.
- I ate meat on swords! A took me to a Brazilian BBQ with a bunch of our friends and it was a gluttonous sodium-overload of protein. My fingers and toes feel like sausages b/c I'm pretty sure I just ate my entire month's value of sodium. Lamb, pork, "chicken bacon" (chicken wrapped in bacon), beef sirloin, and, for the adventurous: chicken hearts. Did I eat one? You bet your sweet bippy I did! Was it gross? OMG yes, but damned if I didn't pop it in my mouth and take it like a champ! Will I do it again? Fuck no!
In looking back over the last year, a lot has happened:
- I moved... twice.
- I started a new job.
- We had to give up our cats for my job (one to my parents, one to my sister).
- I thought I had a stroke. Turns out it was just a nasty migraine.
- I got a new car.
- I had my big toenail ripped off by the 66 bus on the way to work.
- A was published 3 different articles for a trade mag in his field.
- Our first friends to get married were also the first to have a baby.
- We celebrated our first anniversary.
- I saw the sun set over the Pacific.
- I played my first slot in Vegas.
- I drove a muthafuckin Corvette convertible on the Pacific Coast Highway!
- I ate *real* sushi for the first time.
- I got a shitty, shitty Dx, but have coped surprisingly well.
- My husband was laid off just hours after said Dx.
- I found my faith after it was lost for a few weeks.
- I fired a gun, planted a garden, and ate meat on swords.
*raises glass*
Cheers.
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