I was doing really well with this two week wait. I've been so busy lately that I've barely had time to obsess over it. However, after a chance encounter with a cute little curly-headed boy I'm back to obsessing about having one of my own.
There is a street festival going on outside my office door today. I thought it would be fun to do a little game to get people inside the door to our business. I filled the front window with tons of beach balls and plastered signs asking people to come in and guess how many there are. Just a moment ago a little blond-haired, curly-headed ball of energy came bounding in proclaiming that there are 41 beach balls in the window. He looked to be about five years old but had the confidence of a mature adult. I helped him fill his form out so he could enter the prize drawing and he clearly stated all of the pertinent facts (his name is Finn, such a cute name!). He smelled of sunshine, candy and graham crackers and I just wanted to scoop him up and give him a great big hug.
Sigh.....
Now, to continue my waiting, which is not so patient anymore.
* * * * * * * *
Argh, and now a sweet little girl named Sophia just stopped in. I just may have to leave work early today to save myself from more torture!!
Friday, July 13, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Keeping it real
There were two new members at my book club meeting last night. And by new I mean brand spanking new human beings, freshly freed from their mother's wombs. I politely congratulated one of the new moms and for a moment I saw a hint of hesitation on her face before she said thank you. Oh, infertility, why do you have to make normal human interactions so awkward?
Perhaps it's better to keep my infertile status under wraps so I can avoid other awkward situations. But no, I want to talk about it. I want other people to know how much it pains me and what a struggle it is. I want to educate them so that perhaps they will better know how to deal with the next infertile couple they meet. I want the stigma surrounding infertility to stop and I can't stop it by staying silent.
So, I'm sorry if I made you feel awkward, new book club mommy, but if I have to live with infertility every day I think you can deal with one awkward social exchange.
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| Source |
Monday, July 9, 2012
The end of an era
I just had a very exhausting weekend and I'm struggling to put everything into words. Due to my family's herculean effort my parent's house is now empty. It's very surreal to walk through my childhood home and not see all the familiar furnishings and wall hangings in their proper place.
I slept very poorly last night since the image of those empty rooms haunted me. I lay awake and tried to sear all the little quirks of the house into my brain - the sound the back door makes as it creaks open, how the front hall closet is very conducive to a good game of hide and seek, the spot at the top of the stairs where I would sit and catch a glimpse of the TV when I was supposed to be in bed, the fireplace made of field rock that my parents collected, the elaborate light switch panels wired by my dad, and how I first told J that I loved him when we were hanging out in my bedroom.
I'm having a hard time letting go, even though I didn't think I would. (Perhaps it's related to the fact that I'm in my two week wait and am thus already overly emotional). I talked to my sister last night and she pinpointed one of the reasons that I'm struggling - my kids will never be familiar with the house. My nieces and nephews have many happy memories of the house but my kids will never get to experience the same. They will never poke through my old ballet costumes, run in the yard that I enjoyed as a child, sit at my mom's kitchen table and decorate Christmas cookies, play hide and seek in the front hall closet or sit on the porch swing. I know they'll have many happy memories of their own but I'm sad that they'll never experience firsthand the tranquility and warmth of my mother's home. It's yet another loss that moves me further from my mom's presence and reminds me of my infertile state.
Speaking of infertility, yesterday my dad beckoned me to his room and thrust an old letter into my hands. It was a letter from a doctor's office informing my mom that she was a perfect candidate for Clomid. My dad seemed so pleased with himself that he had found the magic solution to my infertility. After all, if it worked for my mom it should work for me, right? Wrong. I know Clomid is not my miracle drug because I have been on it numerous times in the past, but his optimism was very touching so I thanked him for the information and tucked the letter away for safe keeping. At least I now have a link to my mom's infertile past.
I must have some of my dad's pat rack tendencies within me because I came home with far too many boxes of keepsakes. I'll have to sift through them again with a clear head to see if I really need all of them. For example, I don't think it's imperative that I save every scrap of my school artwork but I do want to keep my grandmother's china.
One thing's for certain, after sorting through 40 years worth of clutter I have an insatiable desire to purge my entire house of all unnecessary items. I love my parent's house, I really do, but one of the main reasons that I don't want to buy it is because it's too big. I just spent the last few weeks clearing out 40 years worth of clutter from the home's numerous nooks and crannies and I never want to go through that again. If the space is there I know it will eventually be filled with a plethora of items that J and I don't really need. Our more modest sized house is much more manageable.
One thing I don't mind keeping is all the wonderful memories associated with my parent's house.
As I recall all of this I realize how lucky I am to have had such a charmed upbringing and I wait with hopeful anticipation for the day that I can provide the same to my own children. I also am reminded that the house itself did not provide these memories - the people who lived there did.
I slept very poorly last night since the image of those empty rooms haunted me. I lay awake and tried to sear all the little quirks of the house into my brain - the sound the back door makes as it creaks open, how the front hall closet is very conducive to a good game of hide and seek, the spot at the top of the stairs where I would sit and catch a glimpse of the TV when I was supposed to be in bed, the fireplace made of field rock that my parents collected, the elaborate light switch panels wired by my dad, and how I first told J that I loved him when we were hanging out in my bedroom.
I'm having a hard time letting go, even though I didn't think I would. (Perhaps it's related to the fact that I'm in my two week wait and am thus already overly emotional). I talked to my sister last night and she pinpointed one of the reasons that I'm struggling - my kids will never be familiar with the house. My nieces and nephews have many happy memories of the house but my kids will never get to experience the same. They will never poke through my old ballet costumes, run in the yard that I enjoyed as a child, sit at my mom's kitchen table and decorate Christmas cookies, play hide and seek in the front hall closet or sit on the porch swing. I know they'll have many happy memories of their own but I'm sad that they'll never experience firsthand the tranquility and warmth of my mother's home. It's yet another loss that moves me further from my mom's presence and reminds me of my infertile state.
Speaking of infertility, yesterday my dad beckoned me to his room and thrust an old letter into my hands. It was a letter from a doctor's office informing my mom that she was a perfect candidate for Clomid. My dad seemed so pleased with himself that he had found the magic solution to my infertility. After all, if it worked for my mom it should work for me, right? Wrong. I know Clomid is not my miracle drug because I have been on it numerous times in the past, but his optimism was very touching so I thanked him for the information and tucked the letter away for safe keeping. At least I now have a link to my mom's infertile past.
I must have some of my dad's pat rack tendencies within me because I came home with far too many boxes of keepsakes. I'll have to sift through them again with a clear head to see if I really need all of them. For example, I don't think it's imperative that I save every scrap of my school artwork but I do want to keep my grandmother's china.
One thing's for certain, after sorting through 40 years worth of clutter I have an insatiable desire to purge my entire house of all unnecessary items. I love my parent's house, I really do, but one of the main reasons that I don't want to buy it is because it's too big. I just spent the last few weeks clearing out 40 years worth of clutter from the home's numerous nooks and crannies and I never want to go through that again. If the space is there I know it will eventually be filled with a plethora of items that J and I don't really need. Our more modest sized house is much more manageable.
One thing I don't mind keeping is all the wonderful memories associated with my parent's house.
- Holiday feasts
- Birthday party sleepovers on the back porch
- Watching a pair of robins build a nest outside the kitchen window
- Learning to ride my bike on the driveway
- Coming home to delicious-smelling meals
- Making snow angels in the backyard
- Trying out new dance steps in the living room
- How the lilacs only grew on the very top of the bush because the sun did not hit the entire plant
- Assisting my mom with holiday decorating
- The blinking glow of Christmas lights outside my bedroom window
- Graduation parties, bridal and baby showers (My parents hosted so many parties!)
- Movie nights with family and friends
- Watching my nieces and nephews grow in leaps and bounds
- Assembling my wedding invitations on the dining room table
As I recall all of this I realize how lucky I am to have had such a charmed upbringing and I wait with hopeful anticipation for the day that I can provide the same to my own children. I also am reminded that the house itself did not provide these memories - the people who lived there did.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
The lake
I'm very happy today because tomorrow I will be journeying to the place of my heart's content. My dad owns property on a pristine, spring-fed lake just three hours north of my house. This property has been in our family since the late 1800's and I always feel like a part of me has been restored when I am standing on the shores of the lake. I can't wait to take a running jump off the dock into that cool, clear water. The unusually hot weather that we've been having is just further incentive to hop in the water immediately upon arrival - I suppose I'll say a quick hello to my dad before embarking to the dock, but swimming is next on my list of priorities.
It's no secret that the inner workings of my dad's mind are a big mystery to me. For instance, why does he insist on sleeping with the TV on every night? Why is he such a picky eater? (I have never in my life seen him ingest a fruit or green, leafy vegetable). One of his biggest idiosyncrasies is that while he prefers to spend all of his time at his lake home, he never actually enjoys the lake. Oh, I suppose he'll go on the occasional pontoon boat ride but that's usually for the benefit of guests. He doesn't fish, he doesn't swim, he doesn't kayak. I've never come across him just sitting on the dock, savoring the view. He's so incredibly lucky to have such natural beauty just steps from his doorstep but I don't think he pauses to enjoy it. Maybe he does, in his own way, but certainly not in the way that the rest of us do.
J and I were married in a little church near the lake so the morning of our wedding I woke up early to savor a solitary swim, which did wonders to soothe my pre-wedding jitters. It was a very memorable, almost spiritual, experience for me. I also found a good deal of comfort by the lake soon after my mom died. She loved the lake. Swimming, kayaking, fishing, sitting peacefully on the dock - she cherished it all. As I sat there immersed in my grief I felt comforted by the gentle breeze that caressed me, I could almost imagine that the soft touch on my skin was her gentle caress.
At every juncture in my life I have found solace by this lake, which is why my heart always yearns for it. I feel W.B. Yeats said it best in one of my favorite poems:
It's no secret that the inner workings of my dad's mind are a big mystery to me. For instance, why does he insist on sleeping with the TV on every night? Why is he such a picky eater? (I have never in my life seen him ingest a fruit or green, leafy vegetable). One of his biggest idiosyncrasies is that while he prefers to spend all of his time at his lake home, he never actually enjoys the lake. Oh, I suppose he'll go on the occasional pontoon boat ride but that's usually for the benefit of guests. He doesn't fish, he doesn't swim, he doesn't kayak. I've never come across him just sitting on the dock, savoring the view. He's so incredibly lucky to have such natural beauty just steps from his doorstep but I don't think he pauses to enjoy it. Maybe he does, in his own way, but certainly not in the way that the rest of us do.
J and I were married in a little church near the lake so the morning of our wedding I woke up early to savor a solitary swim, which did wonders to soothe my pre-wedding jitters. It was a very memorable, almost spiritual, experience for me. I also found a good deal of comfort by the lake soon after my mom died. She loved the lake. Swimming, kayaking, fishing, sitting peacefully on the dock - she cherished it all. As I sat there immersed in my grief I felt comforted by the gentle breeze that caressed me, I could almost imagine that the soft touch on my skin was her gentle caress.
At every juncture in my life I have found solace by this lake, which is why my heart always yearns for it. I feel W.B. Yeats said it best in one of my favorite poems:
| I will arise and go now, for always night and day | |
| I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; | |
| While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, | |
| I hear it in the deep heart's core. |
 |
| A beautiful sunset mirrored on the surface of my beloved lake |
Monday, June 25, 2012
How to distract an infertile (Hint: It involves wedding bells)
This past weekend was incredibly relaxing. We had two friends here for a visit. They recently got engaged and much of our discussion (especially between the females) centered on wedding planning. This was a very happy relief to me - finally, no baby talk! Our guests were incredibly low-key and content to just sit back and relax. We played some card games, drank some beer, sat outside to savor the sunshine, took a stroll around a nearby park and sampled tapas at a new restaurant. I also appreciated their tendency to sleep-in so that J and I had a chance to do the same. We didn't turn the TV on once, which meant that the conversation kept flowing naturally. Not only are they fabulous friends, they just may be the perfect house guests as well!
My little kitty man come home on Thursday and all is well. He's back to his normal self - demanding food a half hour before meal times, perching on the windowsill to keep tabs on the outside world and purring happily whenever he's in close proximity to me. I'm always amazed at the look he gives me when I walk by - it's a mixture of adoration and disdain. Only a cat can project such a conflicted message.
Good friends and cute pets provided a much needed reprieve from infertility depression. A few days ago we stopped to see J's parents at their house. Their living room has a large picture window that provides an excellent view of the neighbor's abode. As we sat and talked the conversation naturally turned to the neighbors since we could see their family just outside the window. This family has lived there about as long as J's parents so J grew up with the neighbor's kids. Of course these kids have grown up and are now producing offspring of their own. My heart ached as I saw this burgeoning family interact with each other. I watched how the grandmother cuddled with her grandkids and how the dads chased their giggling little ones around the yard. I would love for J's family to experience all of this for themselves, instead of just witnessing it through their window.
But, as I said above, our friends' visit was a welcome distraction from my gloomy thoughts. Now I have visions of wedding festivities in my head. The groom is one of my oldest friends and it was he that introduced me to J. I'm so happy that he has found his person - she's perfectly suited for him and I know they'll have a very happy life together. I suppose whenever I need a break from my infertility obsession I should give the happy couple a call to be reminded that happiness is not dependent on procreation alone.
My little kitty man come home on Thursday and all is well. He's back to his normal self - demanding food a half hour before meal times, perching on the windowsill to keep tabs on the outside world and purring happily whenever he's in close proximity to me. I'm always amazed at the look he gives me when I walk by - it's a mixture of adoration and disdain. Only a cat can project such a conflicted message.
Good friends and cute pets provided a much needed reprieve from infertility depression. A few days ago we stopped to see J's parents at their house. Their living room has a large picture window that provides an excellent view of the neighbor's abode. As we sat and talked the conversation naturally turned to the neighbors since we could see their family just outside the window. This family has lived there about as long as J's parents so J grew up with the neighbor's kids. Of course these kids have grown up and are now producing offspring of their own. My heart ached as I saw this burgeoning family interact with each other. I watched how the grandmother cuddled with her grandkids and how the dads chased their giggling little ones around the yard. I would love for J's family to experience all of this for themselves, instead of just witnessing it through their window.
But, as I said above, our friends' visit was a welcome distraction from my gloomy thoughts. Now I have visions of wedding festivities in my head. The groom is one of my oldest friends and it was he that introduced me to J. I'm so happy that he has found his person - she's perfectly suited for him and I know they'll have a very happy life together. I suppose whenever I need a break from my infertility obsession I should give the happy couple a call to be reminded that happiness is not dependent on procreation alone.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Birthday recap, kayaking fun and sick kitty
Hello everyone! Sorry, I didn't mean to go off the bloggie grid for so long but my real life has been keeping me busy. I'm all recovered from my hospital escapade and enjoyed a lovely weekend at home. Saturday was my birthday and we had a few people over to enjoy our newly landscaped fire pit. Later in the evening it started to rain but we were reluctant to go inside. There's a large white pine behind the fire pit so the tree boughs provided some relief from the rain. Eventually we admitted defeat as the drops began to get bigger. Aside from the rain it was a lovely evening with friends and a wonderful way to unwind and regroup.
Sunday we went kayaking with my brother and his family. We explored a small chain of lakes in a nearby town. It was a beautiful, warm day and I thoroughly enjoyed cooling off in the water with my nieces and nephew. My brother and his family are quite outdoorsy - the kids even have their own little kayaks. At one point we came upon two canoes filled with rowdy college boys. They managed to tip one of the canoes and it took them quite awhile to get everything back in order. My ten year old nephew confidently paddled by in his own kayak and the look on the older boys' faces was priceless. A kid was more capable on the water than they were. (Sorry, proud aunt moment...I had to share).
Today I am a worried cat mom. Last night our little guy started having accidents around the house. We ended up sequestering him in the bathroom for the night so we could get some sleep. We took him to the vet today and they found some really large crystals in his urinary tract. They want to keep him overnight and are hoping to flush the crystals out with lots of fluids. If that doesn't work they will need to surgically remove them. Poor little dude!
He just turned a year old (we think). My niece found him living in her family's garden last August. J and I happened to stop over for a visit just as they were trying to corral him. I took one look at the scrawny little kitten and fell in love. We took him to the vet to get spruced up and they said the poor thing had probably been living outside on his own for quite some time. He weighed half as much as he should have and bore many scrapes and cuts. Almost a year later he is living the life of a pampered house cat. Not a bad deal for a starving little foundling.
Anyway, I miss him and hope the vet can patch him up and send him home soon.
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| Here I am enjoying the lake by my dad's house. The lakes we paddled on Sunday were smaller. |
Today I am a worried cat mom. Last night our little guy started having accidents around the house. We ended up sequestering him in the bathroom for the night so we could get some sleep. We took him to the vet today and they found some really large crystals in his urinary tract. They want to keep him overnight and are hoping to flush the crystals out with lots of fluids. If that doesn't work they will need to surgically remove them. Poor little dude!
He just turned a year old (we think). My niece found him living in her family's garden last August. J and I happened to stop over for a visit just as they were trying to corral him. I took one look at the scrawny little kitten and fell in love. We took him to the vet to get spruced up and they said the poor thing had probably been living outside on his own for quite some time. He weighed half as much as he should have and bore many scrapes and cuts. Almost a year later he is living the life of a pampered house cat. Not a bad deal for a starving little foundling.
Anyway, I miss him and hope the vet can patch him up and send him home soon.
 |
| Hoping my little buddy can come home soon. |
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Ouch!! (Physically and mentally speaking)
I rode my wave of hope as long as I possibly could but everything came crashing down on me Tuesday morning. I woke up feeling great - spotting was gone, no sign of any cramps. I hopped in the shower to get ready for work and let my mind wander...if I could just make it a couple more days without my period I would try another pregnancy test...maybe I could get that good news just in time for my birthday!
Then the cramps started to hit. I tried to quickly finish up my shower so I could grab my pain killers but the pain suddenly intensified. Soon I was in a ball on the bathroom floor sobbing in pain. I dragged myself to the bed and found my phone so I could text J, who was already at work. I asked to him to come home right away. My pain was so intense that I started freaking out - what if I had an ectopic pregnancy? What if something else was seriously wrong? This kind of pain was not normal. J arrived and I managed to sputter out that I wanted him to take me to the hospital. He helped me get dressed and we were soon on our way.
As we drove my pain began to decrease but I knew I still wanted to be seen by someone. We checked into the ER and I was soon laying on a hospital bed hooked up to an IV. My pain had dissipated but I was still worried. The ER doc ordered a pregnancy test and got me set up for a pelvic exam. It was then that I noticed that I had started to bleed. Great, I thought, they're just going to chalk this up to period cramps and send me on my way. The pregnancy test was, of course, negative. I was devastated and felt like the staff thought I was overreacting. I told the doc that I had endometriosis and he said perhaps the cramps were just a symptom of my endo.
Just?! Why don't I give you a uterus so you can feel a woman's pain, buddy! Your lack of empathy is really starting to get on my nerves. I came here because I was in an excruciating amount of pain and I was scared. You're a doctor - now fix me, damn it!
The doc ordered an ultrasound and J and I waited for what felt like forever to get the results. It turns out I had a ruptured ovarian cyst. The doc gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way. My "official" diagnosis was endometriosis (Well, duh. I already knew I had that, Mr. Idiot Doctor) with an ovarian cyst.
J dropped me off at home before he headed back to work. We had wasted almost a complete day in the ER and I knew he had to check on things at his office. I threw myself on the couch and sobbed - the really gut-wrenching, heartbreaking kind of sob fest that leaves you feeling cleansed yet exhausted when you're done. I was so upset that I had let myself think I was actually pregnant and I was so humiliated by the lack of compassion that every staff member at the ER had shown me.
I called my real doctor's office to fill them in on what had happened. Thankfully the hospital had already emailed them my ultrasound pics. The nurse was very sympathetic and said that ruptured cysts can really hurt. Finally, someone realized how much pain I had been in! She had my doctor look over the ultrasound and reported that he had found nothing out of the ordinary - other than that cyst, of course. Supposedly the cyst will resolve itself and I can go back to baby making next month.
So, now that I've wasted so much hope and optimism on one cycle I have to start storing up a new batch for my next. It's going to take me a few days to gather the strength to create this new batch, but I know it will come. It always does.
In the meantime, thank you so much for all your kind words. This online support group is definitely one of the bright spots of my infertile existence. I truly appreciate each and every one of you!
Then the cramps started to hit. I tried to quickly finish up my shower so I could grab my pain killers but the pain suddenly intensified. Soon I was in a ball on the bathroom floor sobbing in pain. I dragged myself to the bed and found my phone so I could text J, who was already at work. I asked to him to come home right away. My pain was so intense that I started freaking out - what if I had an ectopic pregnancy? What if something else was seriously wrong? This kind of pain was not normal. J arrived and I managed to sputter out that I wanted him to take me to the hospital. He helped me get dressed and we were soon on our way.
As we drove my pain began to decrease but I knew I still wanted to be seen by someone. We checked into the ER and I was soon laying on a hospital bed hooked up to an IV. My pain had dissipated but I was still worried. The ER doc ordered a pregnancy test and got me set up for a pelvic exam. It was then that I noticed that I had started to bleed. Great, I thought, they're just going to chalk this up to period cramps and send me on my way. The pregnancy test was, of course, negative. I was devastated and felt like the staff thought I was overreacting. I told the doc that I had endometriosis and he said perhaps the cramps were just a symptom of my endo.
Just?! Why don't I give you a uterus so you can feel a woman's pain, buddy! Your lack of empathy is really starting to get on my nerves. I came here because I was in an excruciating amount of pain and I was scared. You're a doctor - now fix me, damn it!
The doc ordered an ultrasound and J and I waited for what felt like forever to get the results. It turns out I had a ruptured ovarian cyst. The doc gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way. My "official" diagnosis was endometriosis (Well, duh. I already knew I had that, Mr. Idiot Doctor) with an ovarian cyst.
J dropped me off at home before he headed back to work. We had wasted almost a complete day in the ER and I knew he had to check on things at his office. I threw myself on the couch and sobbed - the really gut-wrenching, heartbreaking kind of sob fest that leaves you feeling cleansed yet exhausted when you're done. I was so upset that I had let myself think I was actually pregnant and I was so humiliated by the lack of compassion that every staff member at the ER had shown me.
I called my real doctor's office to fill them in on what had happened. Thankfully the hospital had already emailed them my ultrasound pics. The nurse was very sympathetic and said that ruptured cysts can really hurt. Finally, someone realized how much pain I had been in! She had my doctor look over the ultrasound and reported that he had found nothing out of the ordinary - other than that cyst, of course. Supposedly the cyst will resolve itself and I can go back to baby making next month.
So, now that I've wasted so much hope and optimism on one cycle I have to start storing up a new batch for my next. It's going to take me a few days to gather the strength to create this new batch, but I know it will come. It always does.
In the meantime, thank you so much for all your kind words. This online support group is definitely one of the bright spots of my infertile existence. I truly appreciate each and every one of you!
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