So, I've been away for awhile...I'm not really sure why. But I'm going to try and make it up to you. Here are six mini blog posts and/or observations I've made lately.
Post No. 1: The Whisper
"Dateline Mysteries", "48 Hours Investigates", "Snapped", if its a television show about a person gettin' killed by their spouse, my husband is watching it. Disturbing? Yes, slightly. I think he watches because he likes the mystery story and not for ideas. I hope.
Several months ago Tony was watching one of those types of shows and a murder victim's father described "the whisper". I knew exactly what he was talking about. I hear the whisper too.
Let me paraphrase what he said, "I can go about my day. I can go to work. I can laugh. I can have fun. But the whisper of my child's murder is always there, and in the quiet moments of my life it is all I hear."
My whisper is infertility.
Post No 2: Infertile, Interrupted
Part of why I haven't been posting is because I haven't had many positive things to say, not that I think this space should be reserved for wine and roses. Part of me says, "This is real. This is your life. You should share no matter how depressive." Part of me says, "You really should censor yourself a bit. You gain nothing by spewing negativity into the Internet. Keep it to yourself."
I have now accepted that I am unreasonably depressed, depressed beyond the situation. It has consumed me. I intend to do something pharmaceutical about it, but while I made time for endless infertility appointments, I can't seem to find the time for this appointment.
Post No 3: Damn, I Feel Like a Woman
In April I posted about my first visit back to my gyn and my absent period. Well, I hemmed and hawed about giving the blood sample she wanted before I started the Provera that would start my period. Finally at the end of May I gave the blood sample, started the Provera and paused; nothing happened, nada, uterine crickets. After two weeks I called the gyn about my absent flow and was told that Provera could take up to ten weeks, call back after the forth of July. I'd never heard of that, but whatever...
Today, quite unexpectedly, I got my period. I know a lot of infertile women are used to irregular periods, but that was never me. I could set a clock (or maybe a calendar) by my period. No period for five months has been a little disconcerting. But now, here it is. I wonder if I have been successfully "reset" physically or if I will be irregular ever more.
Maybe I'll get reset mentally as well. Watch this space...
Post No 4: LL
Linsay Lohan's dad gives me the creeps.
Post No 5: The Two Faces of Megan
Despite the whisper, despite the depression, Tony and I have been having a very active summer. And we've started dreaming and planning again. We haven't been able to dream and plan for a long time and it feels good to stretch that part of our brains again. Most of these dreams and plans center around new landscaping, purchasing land and building a cabin, and early retirement schemes. Secretly I still want to try a donor egg cycle. Since each of these dreams and plans require money, they are somewhat mutually exclusive. I feel like I'm living two dream lives.
Post No 6: Nothing Special
My husband secretly loves the movie, "Steel Magnolias". Sometimes I walk into the family room and catch him watching it on TV. It's funny. He likes, "Mona Lisa Smile" too. I wonder if its a Julia Roberts thing, but he really doesn't watch any other of her movies. It must be a female ensemble cast thing.
So if you've seen the movie more than once, you know the line. Diabetic Shelby has just told her mother that she is happily pregnant despite the health complications involved. She says, "I'd rather have a few moments of wonderful *pause for dramatic effect* than a lifetime of nothing special."
For some reason I was thinking of this scene a few weeks ago and I thought to myself. That's going to be my life...a lifetime of nothing special. Special is a relative term, so perhaps I was being a bit melodramatic; certainly something special can happen to me in my childless lifetime. Special is anything I want to believe is special. And a lifetime of nothing special also doesn't mean a bad lifetime necessarily. But I still want to be a mom. Maybe more than I did before. Sigh.