Spring is coming – tra la tra la! I have a bad case of spring fever. Buttercups are blooming all over the yard and some of our flowering shrubs are just starting to show a little color. I have been wandering around making plans to enlarge flower beds and buy roses – lots and lots of roses. We’ve already planted two peach trees (Georgia Belles, the most wonderful tasting peaches you’ll ever slice up and put in a pie!). I even have a very respectable case of poison oak.
Last spring O & I raided the site of long-gone house on the backside of the farm. We brought back piles of 100+year-old bricks and fieldstones from the home’s chimney that had fallen decades ago. We lined the flower beds around our house with the bricks and I made a fieldstone pathway with the larger stones and used the smaller ones to line other beds in the yard. Just beautiful! Except I got what my doctor termed “the worst case of poison oak” he’d seen in years.
So it’s February, spring is just around the corner, and what do I need more than anything? I need more fieldstones and bricks. At least this time I didn’t sit squarely in the middle of the poison-oak-covered brick pile. I did, however, still manage to get some on my arms and around my waist. So I may be itchy scratcherson for a while, but at least I’m itchy scratcherson with some beautiful bricks and fieldstones!
I’m feeling much better about the prospect of not having a biological child (again). I had a rough couple of days last week, though. I think the worst part was that I just felt really alone. My non-IF girlfriends love me and would absolutely have said all the wrong things. My girlfriends who have been through IF treatments would have understood but I really couldn’t formulate much to say other than, “Oh my God I may not have a baby” and “You have got to freakin’ be kidding me” and “No REALLY, I may not have a baby - how is that possible?”. The person I really wanted to talk to was my husband.
If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you know how much I love my husband. He truly is the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, but as much as he loves me and wants me to be happy, he doesn’t really “get it” either. He wants to. He tries to. But he just doesn’t.
I knew from the moment we met that O would be a fantastic father. He’s great with kids. So yes, he’d be happy for us to have a child and has been supportive as we’ve pursued IF treatments and worked on getting licensed to become adoptive parents. If we have a child (either bio or through adoption), O would do everything within his power to create a wonderful life for our son or daughter. I have no doubt about that. But if, for whatever reason, that doesn’t happen for us, O would be fine with that. He is very content with our life together as it is now. We both know how lucky we are to have found each other and to have the marriage we have.
I don’t think O really ever pictured himself as a dad. In one respect I am so grateful for that. I don’t have the guilt associated with MY infertility shattering HIS lifelong dreams of having a biological child. But on the other hand, it makes it difficult for him to understand just how deeply-felt my desire to be a mom is and what a loss it would be to me if that doesn’t happen.
Most of the time I go through my life with the faith that this is all going to work out – that I will, someday, some way become a mom or will make peace with it if I do not. But on the occasional days when my sprits are low, I want to be able to talk to my husband, my best friend, and feel as if he “gets it”.
What I need to keep in mind, though, is that we come from very different places on this topic and that he can love, support, and even understand my sadness without having to feel the same way himself. Maybe that’s what I’ve been looking for all along and why I’ve felt so “un-heard”. I’ve wanted him to feel the same urgency, frustration, heartache that I feel about this topic.
He simply doesn’t. I can't expect him to.
I am most definitely NOT alone. He listens when I need to talk. He holds me when I need to cry. He tells me how much he wants to make it all better for me. He jumps in with both feet as we prepare to become adoptive parents.
How could I possibly expect more than that?
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Isn't that strange?
I’d say that the odds of me deleting this post before I ever hit the “publish” button are pretty good. Why should this time be any different than the other 20 times I’ve sat down to update this blog since Christmas?
I’m not quite sure where the writer’s block is coming from. I guess part of it is that I’m not really sure what to do with the blog. I started it over a year ago just as O & I were referred to an infertility specialist. This was such a wonderful place to just get it all out – all the sadness and fear and frustration of being infertile in a super-fertile world.
But then we decided to call a halt to IF treatments for a number of reasons and to go in a different direction. Through the fall we took classes to get certified to foster / adopt through the state. That process continues, though it is hopefully soon coming to a successful end. It has come with its’ own set of frustrations and ridiculous situations but we’re still “in the game” and very hopeful that a child will make its’ way to us soon.
I’ve been hesitant to talk too much about my foster-to-adopt frustrations here because I think it would be pretty easy for “locals” to find their way to this blog. I’ve mentioned my name, my husband’s name, and the area where we live. I know of at least one member of our extended family who has likely found my little corner of the internet. If that person knows, I’m betting that several people know.
So that has left me wondering . . . do I shut down this blog and begin another? Do I password protect it? Do I simply journal on my computer and not blog at all? I haven’t quite arrived at an answer but I do know one thing . . . Someday when we have our child in our home, I’m going to wish that I’d taken the time to document this journey, so that’s what I’m going to do. For now, I’m going to do that here.
I plan to take the time to recap our foster/adopting experience thus far but today my mind is really on IF.
I have a history of hyper*plasia, which is a thickening of the uterine lining. Left uncontrolled, it can become endo*metrial can*cer. That’s why I take monthly pro*vera to generate a period. Even with the pro*vera, my lining still tends to be a bit thick. This last period I had a tiny bit of spotting just before and after my cycle. Most women wouldn’t give it a second thought but with my history, I thought it best to get to my gyn and have it checked out. My visit Monday went well. The ultrasound did show a thicker lining, but I was still well within “normal” limits for a pre-menopausal woman. Big sigh of relief. Anyway, we talked about maybe changing up my medication and decided to suppress my periods instead of trying to generate “bigger, better” ones. It sounded fine to me. I clearly can’t get pregnant without medical intervention so why not? She said that it should hopefully thin out my endometrium and just keep everything stable. If not, there may be a D&C in my future.
We went on to talk about options for the future and she said if we were certain about not having biological children, she could do an abla*tion of the uterine lining which (from what I gather) means lasering it to basically stop any future periods. But she said that in order to do that, you had to be “sterile”. She went on to discuss different sterilization procedures including one that didn’t involve invasive surgery.
I have to tell you, I thought I was okay with our decision to not have a biological child but that conversation scared the living shit out of me. The word “sterile” reverberated through my body like few things ever have.
I really have been pretty content with our choice to walk away from fertility treatments. I’ve certainly had my moments . . . receiving a baby shower invitation from a formerly IF family member who stopped communicating with me once she got pregnant (don’t get me started on THAT!!!), hanging up the phone and crying my eyes out after learning of a girlfriend’s pregnancy, feeling irritation with each and every Hollywood pregnancy announcement. Seriously, how are they even MAKING movies these days with everyone so busy creating life?
Anyway, those have been some bumps in what has been a fairly smooth road. We are so thrilled at the prospect of giving a home to a child who needs one – of that child becoming OUR child. But clearly somewhere in the background there has been the unconscious thought that maybe “one of these days” we’ll call the RE and start things up again.
Let me make it clear - we have no plans to do so. In fact, the thought of it literally makes my stomach clench. It was such a horrible time for me – the constant reminders of my body’s failure. I don’t even know how we’d begin to afford it either because as my 40th birthday approaches, we’d probably have to go right to IVF.
However, as I was walking through the parking lot after my appointment, the thought kept running through my mind over and over, “Oh my God, I really may never give my husband a son or daughter! There really may never be a little person running around with O’s blue eyes and sweet spirit and my dark hair and stubbornness!” It sounds ridiculous but I was completely floored by that thought. Isn’t that crazy?!?! I am a pretty self-aware person. I realize all of the following things:
I do not ovulate.
No ovulation equals no pregnancy.
Seemingly, any chance we have for making babies would, at the very least, involve numerous doctors, nurses, needles, meds, procedures, and an enormous amount of $.
We are not willing to put ourselves in financial jeopardy to pursue IF treatments.
Lack of available funds means no doctors, nurses, needles, meds, or procedures.
We are not seeing a RE and I am, in fact, taking meds to completely STOP my period.
No period definitely equals no pregnancy.
I will be 40 in less than two months.
You would think that it would have dawned on me somewhere along the way that I’m not going to have “maybe someday” baby unless something changes dramatically and quite possibly not even then.
I just cannot believe it.
Isn't that strange?
I’m not quite sure where the writer’s block is coming from. I guess part of it is that I’m not really sure what to do with the blog. I started it over a year ago just as O & I were referred to an infertility specialist. This was such a wonderful place to just get it all out – all the sadness and fear and frustration of being infertile in a super-fertile world.
But then we decided to call a halt to IF treatments for a number of reasons and to go in a different direction. Through the fall we took classes to get certified to foster / adopt through the state. That process continues, though it is hopefully soon coming to a successful end. It has come with its’ own set of frustrations and ridiculous situations but we’re still “in the game” and very hopeful that a child will make its’ way to us soon.
I’ve been hesitant to talk too much about my foster-to-adopt frustrations here because I think it would be pretty easy for “locals” to find their way to this blog. I’ve mentioned my name, my husband’s name, and the area where we live. I know of at least one member of our extended family who has likely found my little corner of the internet. If that person knows, I’m betting that several people know.
So that has left me wondering . . . do I shut down this blog and begin another? Do I password protect it? Do I simply journal on my computer and not blog at all? I haven’t quite arrived at an answer but I do know one thing . . . Someday when we have our child in our home, I’m going to wish that I’d taken the time to document this journey, so that’s what I’m going to do. For now, I’m going to do that here.
I plan to take the time to recap our foster/adopting experience thus far but today my mind is really on IF.
I have a history of hyper*plasia, which is a thickening of the uterine lining. Left uncontrolled, it can become endo*metrial can*cer. That’s why I take monthly pro*vera to generate a period. Even with the pro*vera, my lining still tends to be a bit thick. This last period I had a tiny bit of spotting just before and after my cycle. Most women wouldn’t give it a second thought but with my history, I thought it best to get to my gyn and have it checked out. My visit Monday went well. The ultrasound did show a thicker lining, but I was still well within “normal” limits for a pre-menopausal woman. Big sigh of relief. Anyway, we talked about maybe changing up my medication and decided to suppress my periods instead of trying to generate “bigger, better” ones. It sounded fine to me. I clearly can’t get pregnant without medical intervention so why not? She said that it should hopefully thin out my endometrium and just keep everything stable. If not, there may be a D&C in my future.
We went on to talk about options for the future and she said if we were certain about not having biological children, she could do an abla*tion of the uterine lining which (from what I gather) means lasering it to basically stop any future periods. But she said that in order to do that, you had to be “sterile”. She went on to discuss different sterilization procedures including one that didn’t involve invasive surgery.
I have to tell you, I thought I was okay with our decision to not have a biological child but that conversation scared the living shit out of me. The word “sterile” reverberated through my body like few things ever have.
I really have been pretty content with our choice to walk away from fertility treatments. I’ve certainly had my moments . . . receiving a baby shower invitation from a formerly IF family member who stopped communicating with me once she got pregnant (don’t get me started on THAT!!!), hanging up the phone and crying my eyes out after learning of a girlfriend’s pregnancy, feeling irritation with each and every Hollywood pregnancy announcement. Seriously, how are they even MAKING movies these days with everyone so busy creating life?
Anyway, those have been some bumps in what has been a fairly smooth road. We are so thrilled at the prospect of giving a home to a child who needs one – of that child becoming OUR child. But clearly somewhere in the background there has been the unconscious thought that maybe “one of these days” we’ll call the RE and start things up again.
Let me make it clear - we have no plans to do so. In fact, the thought of it literally makes my stomach clench. It was such a horrible time for me – the constant reminders of my body’s failure. I don’t even know how we’d begin to afford it either because as my 40th birthday approaches, we’d probably have to go right to IVF.
However, as I was walking through the parking lot after my appointment, the thought kept running through my mind over and over, “Oh my God, I really may never give my husband a son or daughter! There really may never be a little person running around with O’s blue eyes and sweet spirit and my dark hair and stubbornness!” It sounds ridiculous but I was completely floored by that thought. Isn’t that crazy?!?! I am a pretty self-aware person. I realize all of the following things:
I do not ovulate.
No ovulation equals no pregnancy.
Seemingly, any chance we have for making babies would, at the very least, involve numerous doctors, nurses, needles, meds, procedures, and an enormous amount of $.
We are not willing to put ourselves in financial jeopardy to pursue IF treatments.
Lack of available funds means no doctors, nurses, needles, meds, or procedures.
We are not seeing a RE and I am, in fact, taking meds to completely STOP my period.
No period definitely equals no pregnancy.
I will be 40 in less than two months.
You would think that it would have dawned on me somewhere along the way that I’m not going to have “maybe someday” baby unless something changes dramatically and quite possibly not even then.
I just cannot believe it.
Isn't that strange?
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