The one in which you learn how football and air travel relate to IF

I mentioned in my last post that I took a trip for work last week.  I attended a conference, where I gave a presentation, in Memphis, TN.  I was traveling with a colleague, who is one of the MANY new moms in the office.  She also happens to be a Green Bay Packers fan, so she obviously has a streak of awesomeness in her that I can connect with, despite my difficulties with all things baby talk.

Still, I was a bit worried about hanging out with her as I don't know her very well.  Other than work, we only ever talk football, so I didn't know what would happen spending this much time together.  Well, it was fine.  She did talk a fair to middlin' amount about her baby, but it wasn't too bad.  (Or maybe I just handled it better thanks to all the Xanax I had to swallow to manage my air travel... hmm.)

After the conference, as we were waiting at the gate to head back home, she was talking some baby talk -  something about sleeping schedules.  Well, I responded with something to the effect of, "I always thought if I had a baby" blah blah blah, "but it's not very likely that I will, at this point." I surprised myself by saying even that: Xanax must have had me loosened up.  She answered with, "You never know."  Then I really surprised myself,  because I don't talk IF with work people, with "Well, we've been trying for nearly seven years; it doesn't seem in the cards."

Cue the tears.

I really only welled up with tears, though - so it wasn't too bad.  She actually responded pretty nicely, which also surprised me, because - in my vast experience - it's almost never a nice response, which is exactly why I seldom tell anyone anything, anymore...

She said, "Oh, (HJ), I'm so sorry!"  She patted my shoulder, as I tried to not cry, and told me that she has a good friend going through this, so she can understand how incredibly hard it is.

Imagine that?  Instead of not at all helpful advice, simply empathy. 

What can I say, more proof that Green Bay Packers fans are the very best!!!!

Would that I could leave it at that nice, sensitive encounter... but when I was on the plane (my colleague and I were not seated together), my seat mate asked me if I have kids.  Of course - why not?  After all, what else is there to ask the total stranger that will likely be the person you clutch for dear life, as you plummet together to your fiery death??  (Did I mention my intense fear of flying... yeah!)

Anyhow, per standard procedure, I told her I do not have kids - and I left it at that. My hope is always that they will also leave it at that.  She, however, clearly not a Green Bay Packers fan, responded that it is for the better to not (have kids), because kids certainly complicate life and cost a LOT of money.  She has a two and five year old.  Immediately bristling at her response, I informed her (kindly, but emphatically) that being childless is definitely not my choice - that I'd be happy for the complications.

Her response to that, you ask???  Well, how 'bout this: I'll send a delicious chocolate bar to the first person who can correctly guess my seat mate's response, by writing it in the comment section below.

Before I go, I will regale you with one more IF air travel experience.  It's too good a story to not tell you about - best thing is, it's absolutely true.   A few years back, on an airplane bound for Atlanta, another seat mate inquired into my childbearing abilities; I was still an IF rookie back then and didn't know to expect the worst.  Well, I told her her we'd really like to have kids, but that we don't yet... but we're still hoping. Seemed pretty appropriate, nothing too personal, right?  I expected some empathetic well-wishes in return, I suppose.  Instead, she actually told me to try a certain sexual position that would most certainly help.  You read that right, she, a complete stranger, told me about a specific sexual position to try.   But wait, it gets better: this advice came complete with a full body demonstration of said sexual position.  I'm still thanking my lucky stars she at least left her clothes on for the demonstration!!  I really wish I were joking about this encounter.   

Well, don't forget to leave your guess below!

Go Pack Go!!!! 

Big buts

This past week is a bit of a haze, but the good news is that I survived!!!  I mean that literally: I had to travel for work and I'm quite seriously terrified of flying!!  I do it anyhow, but only when I can find absolutely no other way to get there...  Anyhow, the trip was good overall, but I'm so glad to be home!!

Two other things of some noteworthiness happened this week.  Of course, to actually consider these noteworthy events, you probably need to have the noteworthy bar set very low, which, conveniently, I have.

The first noteworthy item is that I started crying over lunch with Ar.  In itself, that's not particularly noteworthy. It wasn't the first time I started crying to Ar over a delicious Baja lunch, after all.  Let's face it, it probably won't be the last.  However, this time it was because I suddenly found myself telling him I want to do IVF.  It just came out: I want to do IVF. 

It seems, as much as I am trying, I'm not quite ready to give up... not quite ready to accept "involuntary childlessness."

Involuntary childlessness.  That sounds so official, doesn't it?  Such a cold and official way to describe something so incredibly heartbreaking and life-changing. 

Life-changing?  That's a funny one too, isn't it?  How does - still not having something that you never had - change your life?

Ahh, yes - every IF question only leads to more. Suffice it to say, it is indeed life-changing.

Back to the lunch tears: I want to do IVF.  It's the next step.  I think, win or lose, it's what would at least make me feel like we tried everything to have a little ArHJ baby.  

But....  everyone I know has a big but.  Let's talk about my big but.

BUT, I do not see how we can possibly do it.  How can we possibly, in any sort of reasonable time frame, do IVF?

We would have to pay off our current RE bill and we'd have to come up with the money for what would be our next RE bill - and I'd have to lose more weight.  I started doing Weight Watchers about five or six weeks ago.  I'm doing pretty well (except during my work trip this week = ugh!), but I have a ways to go still.   Plus, I'm 41...  How long might it take to achieve these financial and weight loss goals?   Longer than I have, childbearing wise, I fear.

Yet I acknowledge this:  I'm not quite ready to stop, after all.  I want to do IVF.  I don't know what to do with that, though... it doesn't seem to be in the cards.

As for the second noteworthy item, I started taking Spironolactone again.  This was prescribed to me ages ago to help with PCOS symptoms - ok, one symptom in particular.   My RE had me stop taking it when I started up IF treatments again this past year, because it can cause some serious birth defects, apparently. I stopped it - oh, almost a year ago now.  Well, in the last couple months, I've been noticing that my so lovely PCOS symptom has been worsening again.  This symptom, which I seriously hate to talk about because it's made me feel like a freak most of my life (here's a hint: it rhymes with shmirsutism), has been something I have spent a lot of my life battling.  It may seem like vanity, but it used to make me feel quite awful, ugly, and unlovable. To be perfectly honest, there are some days it still makes me feel like that.  In fact, I was, once upon a time, quite certain that, because of it, no man could ever love me.  Thank God I was so wrong about that!!  I don't worry about that part anymore, of course.  Still, I don't welcome this symptom's worsening.  So...  I put myself back on Spironolactone.

BUT.... why go back on something that can cause birth defects, if I want to keep trying?

I don't know!!! I just don't know. Maybe because as much as I know I'm not ready to accept it (childlessness), I don't see a way around it... 

BUT, I can always go back off the Spiro again, right?  

Sigh.

But now, for the best BUT of all:

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. BUT God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."  (Romans 5:1-8)

Dream a little dream of he

Last night I dreamed of my dad.  I dream of him sometimes; it's usually present day and he's still alive.  I can't remember all of my dream, but there had been some sort of gathering in an apartment.  I'm not sure whose apartment it was, but towards the end my dad said it was time for him to go now and that he wanted me to know that he loves me very much.  I felt sad that he was leaving.  When he came over to give me a little hug, I choked out the words that I so wish I would have said the very last time (in real life) that I saw him...  "I love you, dad!" 

I didn't tell him that, on that last day I ever saw him alive.  I was 18 - in my second month in college.  I'd come home for the weekend because of an event at my camp.  It was Sunday afternoon, and my ride was there to pick me up.  I ran out to the driveway, where my dad was in his denim overalls, tinkering around one of the cars.  I so clearly remember looking at him and thinking that I should tell him I love him.  I actually thought that - but my friends were in the truck watching, waiting for me.  Honestly, it's just not something I was accustomed to saying, anyhow...  but I never forgot that I thought it that day.  Instead, I just yelled, "Bye dad!," waved and got in the truck headed back to college.  I never saw him again.  Only a few weeks later, he was gone.  I've wished ever since that I'd have told him.

Was it God whispering in my ear that day in the driveway: whispering for me to tell dad that I love him?

I did, after all.  No matter what craziness I was raised in, I loved my dad.  Still do.  Did he know?  It's always haunted me that I didn't tell him. 

God whispered in my ear, but I listened not. 

At least I told him in my dream.  I remember thinking, in my dream, that I should tell him. I'd heard that same whisper - but in my dream, I listened.

A few minutes after I told him, he said he decided to stay awhile after all.  He suggested we go get some ice cream.  I looked up at him and noticed that he had changed into a tee shirt that I'd apparently bought him.  It was a tee shirt of a Far Side cartoon.  Why that was in the dream, I've no idea - but in the dream I knew it was very special that he was wearing the tee shirt I gave him.  Somehow it made me know he was proud of me. 

Dreams are funny, aren't they? 

I suppose there's not much in the way of hidden meaning in this one.  Of course, I wrote about dad in my last post, which has had him on my mind a lot.  As a result of that post, one of my dear friends was trying to encourage me that he would indeed be very proud of me.  So... it doesn't take a Jungian psychologist to figure out any meanings here.

Unlike my dream from the other night, where I walked into the kitchen and saw that all my hair had been cut off and was laying on the counter with bugs crawling all over it.  I was disgusted and wondered what was wrong with me - I've always thought I had pretty nice hair, so why would there be bugs on it?  Then I realized that Ar had also spilled sugar all over the same counter - after he cut off all my hair and placed it there...  Then I just kind of laughed about it: that crazy Ar!!  I was just happy I didn't really have bugs in my hair.

Okayyyy - paging Dr. Freud!!!

Although I did realize today, as I was reflecting on last night's dad dream, that it makes a lot of sense why I'm so over the top about always telling Ar how much I love him.  It's not the first time I've made that connection, of course, but it felt so poignant today.

I also thought today about how I'll never see my dad in my own child.  I see him in my siblings.  I see him in my niblings. I wish I could see just a little piece of him in my own child - in Ar's and my child.

Oh, I wish, I wish...  how I wish.

  

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” (C.S. Lewis)

Of loss and men

Every now and again, I see a man who reminds me ever so much of my dad. It's usually in the eyes. Today was one of those days. I was pushing another cart out of another store, when I looked up and saw my dad's eyes.

As I continued to my car, I once again wished my dad were still with us.

Then I started to wonder what dad would say or feel about my infertility. He always thought I'd have kids, of course - why wouldn't he? I wondered how much I'd let him know. After all, I'm not all that open with my family about it - but they do all know.

There's so much loss in this life, isn't there? Sometimes it sneaks up out of nowhere and chokes you. Sometimes it's enough to make you feel like you're absolutely drowning in it.

I think my dad would have been an amazing grandpa - and I wish my sweet niblings could know him. I wish we had kids. I think he'd be so proud of me, if we did. I never really gave him much of a chance to be proud of me, in his far too short of a life. I hope he wouldn't be disappointed in me, in my infertility.

I know that someday I will be in a place where there are no more tears and no more loss. But in the here and now, they are always - always - just behind my smile.

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." (Revelation 21:4)

I, Robot Woman

What to do? What to do?

Childless, resolution, scarred, peace, time, tears, faith, assumptions, denial, passion, nothingness.

I've realized over the last couple days how very much I want people to understand that I am not childless by choice, because it really isn't. It is just - not - my choice.

People make assumptions about these matters, about childless couples. This seems especially true after a certain age. I no longer get asked, "so when are you going to have kids?" Or, "so when are you and Ar going to start a family?" I'm now at a stage where apparently people either assume I have kids, or assume that the reason I don't have them is because I don't want them. The former assumption stings, but the latter really bothers me.

There are things that are my choice, probably less than I want to admit, but this one is definitely not my choice.

Why is it important to me that people know that? It doesn't change the outcome, so why should I care what assumptions people make about me, about us?

Of course one of my favorites is about how all childless couples are rolling in the dough. Yeah. Right. Get me, I'm washing my hair in champagne.... Whoo - look at me go!!!

I was actually told this - again - just last night. This person (she's a wonderful person!) doesn't know that being childless is not my choice, but when she was telling me about a friend of hers, she highlighted that her friend is childless - and thus quite well off financially - as opposed to her and her significant other, who have to spend all their money on their kids. (Oddly, this was in the context of a political discussion.) Anyhow, after she said that, I hesitated for a moment and then asked, "Well, is she childless by choice?" This question stopped her in her tracks for a moment - she'd clearly never considered that - but she basically responded saying that she doesn't know because she never asked, but she assumes it was her choice. I didn't pursue the subject because that would have felt too personal and my fear of being revealed set in.

I want to be known. I'm afraid to be known. I don't want to say words, I just want people to know and understand. Why? I don't know. I guess because otherwise everything hurts me - I'm so easily offended, fertility wise.

I want some sort of medal of honor, you know... I can just wear it, so people understand without me talking about it. Maybe then people will see that we've been fighting this massive battle; fighting with all our might. Maybe then they'll understand. While it's clearly been a losing battle, and while we don't have the resources we need to keep fighting, we are still standing. We are crushed, but not destroyed. We will choose to be happy. Even still, though you can't see the battle scars, they are there and they run so deep. Perhaps a medal of honor would convey all of that, and then I wouldn't walk around feeling bad all the time....

It's not that I want pity. It's not that I want infertility to be my identity, but... AHHHHH!!! I don't know. I don't know, but it's this huge THING!!! Yet people who interact with me every day have no idea that I walk around just heartbroken, even while I'm surviving it. They have no idea why I don't want to look at babies, why I don't want to see them, touch them, or talk about how cute they are. I avoid babies and kids like the plague, in fact. I just don't even respond to the talky talk, so they probably think I'm this cold-hearted robot woman with no maternal feelings. I am so incredibly not a cold-hearted robot woman. I'm not that at all, even if the only dog we can have right now is a robo-doggie, yet it's the only way I can walk around and not freak out all the time. Survival.

Yet my husband knows me - and thank God - inexplicably adores me. There are some wonderful friends, who know. They're not the ones pouring lemon juice in my gaping wounds though. And there is the One who knows me best, and - mercifully - loves me without condition. Will I let this be enough? This, yes this, perhaps is my choice.

O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.
(Psalm 139: 1-4)

Of weeds and loveliness

The pimple tells no lies!! You'd think after almost seven years into IF, AF wouldn't catch me off guard anymore. Granted, the old biddy is a week early, but the pimple did sound her trumpets.... Actually, there were two pimples this time - an unusual development that briefly made me think that perhaps I'd somehow miraculously fallen pregnant!!! (Pause for laughter.)

Grrr, I truly don't understand why I have to have AF, if I can't get have kids. Isn't that one of the cruelest tricks of all?

In happier news, I met a friend for the first time, this past weekend. Hmm. Does that sound like I've never had a friend before? That is to say, I had the pleasure of breaking bread (and mimosas) with a dear friend, whom I'd never met in person before. What a funny world we live in!! She's one of my Facebook private group (aka my lifeline!!) friends. For all my difficulties with the ridiculously 90% fertile side of Facebook, it has certainly blessed me tremendously with fellow IF mates!!!

So my friend and her hubby came to town to visit some of their friends, and she took some time out to come meet with me for brunch!! It was absolutely lovely!! How strange, though, to only just meet for the first time someone I feel so close to already!

Well, I hope to eventually meet all of these lovely women, who've come to mean so much to me!! Ehem, including those who live clear on the other side of the world from me (wink, wink). Indeed, what would I do without such kindred spirits to cry, understand, encourage, laugh, dress as shrubbery, and devise evil plots with? What I really like about our small group is that I am certain if we'd met under other circumstances, we'd still love each other!! Somehow, our group is just special.

Isn't it amazing how patches of loveliness can still grow through such utter devastation?

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work; If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)

Et tu, carte?

There I was, innocently pushing my loaded grocery cart back to my car, when I glanced down and saw this:

Your child can fall out of cart and suffer a serious head injury

So what does a completely sane person do? A completely, or even partially, sane person probably wouldn't even flinch at it - if they even bothered to read it... What do I do? Stop in my tracks and exclaim out loud, "BUT I DON'T HAVE A CHILD!!!"

Why do even the grocery carts have to mock my pain?

In my previous post, I mentioned my "victory" at not crying when a little girl assumed I had kids. I can understand such assumptions from little girls, but grocery carts? C'mon - cut me some slack, cart. Don't you know I'm just walking around trying to hold it all together? Don't you know that grocery shopping is a hotbed of infertile calamity?!?

Indeed, what I wouldn't give to have a kid to place in mortal danger by placing him in a grocery cart.

I sure wish my victories were normal victories, instead of sad little graspings of straw. But since we're counting victories, after standing there with tears in my eyes, staring creepily at the stupid cart, while muttering absurdities, I simply placed my groceries in the car and placed the cart in the corral... After all, I wanted to run it over repeatedly. It would serve both my car and the cart right: as I've mentioned before, I kinda hate my car, too!

A little good news

In the midst of the latest flurry of newborn announcements and back to school photos, updates, and tears of melancholy - or exuberance over "getting rid of the kids" - both on Facebook and in person, I actually had some good news to distract me today!!

If you recall, I was in a billing pickle with my RE clinic. Quick recap: when our insurance was about to run out, we had to decide whether to proceed with treatment or not. We contacted our clinic and asked if there were any discounts for self-pay. Clinic Gail said that there was a discount for the ultrasounds, of which I've had a plethora. The ultrasounds were the biggest expense, other than the injections. So, since they would be discounted - and since we really, really, really, really hoped it would work the next time (and the next time and the next time and the next... well, you get the point), we decided to proceed.

Well, as it turns out, our insurance ran out sooner than we expected, so the bill was bigger than we planned on. In fact, it was MUCH bigger than anticipated because they did not give the discount, which was 25% off of each ultrasound. The ultrasounds are $542 each. $542 multiplied by a plethora!!! After the shock wore off, we called Billing Laurie and she basically said that Clinic Gail was wrong, so too bad so sad! We each tried to talk to her about this a few times, which was always very frustrating and useless. In fact, she treated us a bit like we were criminals, even though we've paid our bills to them regularly.

Well, I issued a formal complaint about all of this - and good news!! Just today I got a call from the Billing Manager, who told me that I was right-on and that she was adjusting our bill!! The bottom line is that it will shave about $1,700 dollars off our bill. What a relief!!!

Granted, it's still a big bill, but this does make a big difference to us!! Welcome news, indeed!!

The irony of being incredibly happy about saving 25% off of ultrasounds from a lot of failed infertility treatments, on a day when everyone is again celebrating childhood and mommyhood, certainly doesn't escape me... But, I guess I'll take whatever victories I can get.

In other good news, this past weekend a sweet little girl asked me what school my children go to - and I managed to not cry in front of her!! (Insert fist pump here - yes!!!) I also managed to not regale her with tales of infertility, emphasizing that life doesn't go the way you expect it to and so she better just get used to disappointment! Impressed at my self-restraint, aren't you? In all seriousness though, it made me think a thought that no normal person would think: "I sure hope she doesn't grow up to be infertile." What kind of person thinks something like that??? One with experience, that's who. Sigh. She's sweet and innocent and thinks that all women are moms. She probably has the audacity to think that she'll be a mom one day, when she's ready. I really hope she's right.

In related news, I'm trying to get used to the idea that I'm just not ever going to be a mom. To be perfectly honest, it kinda sucks. My latest effort involves attempts to convince myself that I'm just too old for all that jazz, anyhow. I know there are healthier ways to go about this. Some days I can focus on those ways, you know like trusting God and everything, more than other days. It's so up and down. It's just not something that is exactly easy to accept. To be cliche, one day at a time, right.