Every once in awhile I get an email from my husband that goes something like this:
To: Wife
From: Husband
Subject: [Blank]
Great. A new school year and three women came back pregnant from summer break.
Or
To: Wife
From: Husband
Subject: [Blank]
I’m so sick of seeing people’s baby and grandbaby pictures.
It’s hard for me to believe that these emails are even coming from him. I imagine that he’s sitting in his office in some sort of trance and his subconscious starts directing his fingers to type out these little messages. His brain (or heart?) is sending me little subliminal electronic clues…”We’re hurting, Megan. We just wanted to let you know.” My husband keeps his hurt concealed. As much as I prod and ask leading questions, he has yet to tell me face to face, heart to heart, how much pain he is in.
There are other clues too. Several months ago I went to the emergency room with a gall bladder attack. I was lying on a bed in a makeshift curtained off room in agonizing pain. A nurse came in to draw some blood and left. As soon as she left I heard my husband say under his breath, “bitch”. Now my husband and I are huge potty mouths. We curse a lot in the privacy of our own home (really no reason not to), but hubby is not generally in the habit of randomly calling women offensive names. I asked him what happened and he responded, “Didn’t you see? She’s pregnant.”
Well, I’m not proud of it or anything, but I’ve certainly thought the same thing in my head as I see random pregnant women walking about or random skinny women walking about for that matter. However, I generally keep those thoughts to myself. After all, it’s not nice.
It’s almost like the pain that he works so hard to keep inside bubbles up every once in awhile and he just can’t keep it in. It bubbles up enough to remind me that I’m not in this alone. It bubbles up enough to let me know that he’s not as OK as he’d like me to believe. It bubbles up enough to make me wonder if he will ever be OK.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Goodbye Hello
So I'm a little late for the end of the year wrap up, but if you'll indulge me I'll post a bit of a goodbye to 2010 before I say hello to 2011.
Mostly when I think of this past year I can't believe it all happened. All the doctor's appointments, shots, acupuncture appointments, and trips to the pharmacy have become foreign to me again. I find myself thinking about the "treatment time" in my life with a sense of wonder. Did that just happen? Did I really do all that? Was that really my life?
It's funny what some time and distance will do for the mind. However, while I can say that time has healed some of my wounds from treatments; it has not healed my longing for a child.
So I would like this video to represent closure, but obviously I still can't stop leaving that question mark at the end.
That's the good bye to 2010. Now on to the hello.
I have caught resolution fever pretty bad this year. I am usually not one for resolutions, but I feel like I let this past year happen to me. I didn't feel like an active participant in my life. So I am resolving to do more living and get more done.
That means a lot of things; getting healthier, being more engaged at work, getting my house organized, and spending more time on creative endeavors. There has to be more to life than working and watching TV.
I kept an art journal in 2009 documenting my infertility treatments. I kept no journal in 2010. This year I intend to keep a "goal journal" to hold myself accountable to my goals and document my progress. It will probably be a bit artsy again.
In other news, I'm happy to announce that we have added another member to our family. A rescued golden retriever puppy who came to us just before Christmas. We named him Lou. After a few days of being bitter, Bo has turned into a great big brother.
I wish everyone a happy new year. I hope to be posting more as I think I am going to have a lot more to say...
Mostly when I think of this past year I can't believe it all happened. All the doctor's appointments, shots, acupuncture appointments, and trips to the pharmacy have become foreign to me again. I find myself thinking about the "treatment time" in my life with a sense of wonder. Did that just happen? Did I really do all that? Was that really my life?
It's funny what some time and distance will do for the mind. However, while I can say that time has healed some of my wounds from treatments; it has not healed my longing for a child.
So I would like this video to represent closure, but obviously I still can't stop leaving that question mark at the end.
That's the good bye to 2010. Now on to the hello.
I have caught resolution fever pretty bad this year. I am usually not one for resolutions, but I feel like I let this past year happen to me. I didn't feel like an active participant in my life. So I am resolving to do more living and get more done.
That means a lot of things; getting healthier, being more engaged at work, getting my house organized, and spending more time on creative endeavors. There has to be more to life than working and watching TV.
I kept an art journal in 2009 documenting my infertility treatments. I kept no journal in 2010. This year I intend to keep a "goal journal" to hold myself accountable to my goals and document my progress. It will probably be a bit artsy again.
In other news, I'm happy to announce that we have added another member to our family. A rescued golden retriever puppy who came to us just before Christmas. We named him Lou. After a few days of being bitter, Bo has turned into a great big brother.
I wish everyone a happy new year. I hope to be posting more as I think I am going to have a lot more to say...
Sunday, October 31, 2010
How does it feel to be infertile?
I've never been asked by a fertile person how it feels to be infertile. No infertile person has ever had to ask how it feels. However, I have often found myself wondering if I could explain to a fertile person how infertility feels.
It's so abstract. I won't die from this disease. I've not lost any limbs. I don't have any visible scars. In my own case I've not lost anything tangible really. I've lost clusters of cells, even my one miscarriage was a blighted ovum; a non baby.
The only way I can describe how being infertile feels is to equate it to what I imagine it would be like to love a child...
Infertility feels like loving a child...but the exact opposite.
I imagine that when a child is born the parents feel overwhelming feelings of joy, pride, happiness, and love. I'm sure it is indescribable. I'm sure it is emotionally debilitating, makes you reevaluate your life, makes you change your life for the better.
Infertility has made me feel that way too...but the exact opposite.
I imagine that when you are a parent the love you have for your child permeates your life in all sorts of little ways. I'm sure that sometimes that love catches you off guard in little moments. You remember your love when you see a picture, hear a comment, or smell a scent. I imagine that love for a child is like a pleasant whisper throughout the day.
Infertility has made me feel that way too...but the exact opposite.
I'm sure that everyday as a parent is not good. Just as everyday without children is not bad.
However, if a fertile person ever thinks to ask me how it feels to be infertile; if a fertile person ever wants to understand; I would tell them to think of all the intense love they have for their child, all the little ways that being a parent makes them happy. I imagine the intensity of feeling is the same.
But where they have love I have bitterness.
But where they have hope I have despair.
But where they have peace I have heartbreak.
And just as a parent will always be a parent. I will always be infertile.
It's so abstract. I won't die from this disease. I've not lost any limbs. I don't have any visible scars. In my own case I've not lost anything tangible really. I've lost clusters of cells, even my one miscarriage was a blighted ovum; a non baby.
The only way I can describe how being infertile feels is to equate it to what I imagine it would be like to love a child...
Infertility feels like loving a child...but the exact opposite.
I imagine that when a child is born the parents feel overwhelming feelings of joy, pride, happiness, and love. I'm sure it is indescribable. I'm sure it is emotionally debilitating, makes you reevaluate your life, makes you change your life for the better.
Infertility has made me feel that way too...but the exact opposite.
I imagine that when you are a parent the love you have for your child permeates your life in all sorts of little ways. I'm sure that sometimes that love catches you off guard in little moments. You remember your love when you see a picture, hear a comment, or smell a scent. I imagine that love for a child is like a pleasant whisper throughout the day.
Infertility has made me feel that way too...but the exact opposite.
I'm sure that everyday as a parent is not good. Just as everyday without children is not bad.
However, if a fertile person ever thinks to ask me how it feels to be infertile; if a fertile person ever wants to understand; I would tell them to think of all the intense love they have for their child, all the little ways that being a parent makes them happy. I imagine the intensity of feeling is the same.
But where they have love I have bitterness.
But where they have hope I have despair.
But where they have peace I have heartbreak.
And just as a parent will always be a parent. I will always be infertile.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Innocence of When
Saturday I was shopping at Pottery Barn. As the cashier rang up my overpriced candles a young girl came to the counter, gift card in hand. She asked the cashier, "Can you see if there is a balance on this? I got it for my wedding and I can't remember if I spent it." The cashier checked and told her that she had $100 balance. "Can you use this card at Pottery Barn Kids too? It doesn't expire, right?" she asked. The cashier affirmed that she could and it wouldn't.
At this point the young girl turned to her friend and said, "I think I'll just wait and use this when I get pregnant."
I bristled inside. "When I get pregnant.... When I get pregnant... When I get pregnant..." The words rang in my ears all day. Part of me wanted to tell her, "Yeah right. It might not be that easy." But another part of me realized that for her it probably would be that easy. "When I get pregnant" is the world that most people live in. Most people can save their Pottery Barn gift cards received as wedding gifts and use them at Pottery Barn Kids a few years later.
I remember living in the world of "when". In that world I saved money for nursery furniture. In that world I prepared monthly budgets that included daycare, diapers, and formula. In that world I picked out baby names and worried about how I would feel when Tony was home with the baby on summer break while I went to work. I clung to "when" for a long time. Even after starting IVF I still spoke in "when" terms as if the force of my will could get me pregnant.
Eventually "when" slipped away and became "if". I couldn't plan a vacation that I might not enjoy if I got pregnant. I couldn't buy adult furniture for the "nursery" because where would I put it if I got pregnant? Changing from "when" to "if" was incredibly painful. Hope was slipping away.
Thinking of this yesterday made me wonder where I am today. I am a long way from "when" obviously. If "when" were a location on Earth it would be midnight there when it is noon here. But I also realized that I am moving away from "if" as well. I don't plan for "if I get pregnant" anymore. This is a good thing. I'm living my life. This is also a sad thing.
And I'm not quite sure what it means.
At this point the young girl turned to her friend and said, "I think I'll just wait and use this when I get pregnant."
I bristled inside. "When I get pregnant.... When I get pregnant... When I get pregnant..." The words rang in my ears all day. Part of me wanted to tell her, "Yeah right. It might not be that easy." But another part of me realized that for her it probably would be that easy. "When I get pregnant" is the world that most people live in. Most people can save their Pottery Barn gift cards received as wedding gifts and use them at Pottery Barn Kids a few years later.
I remember living in the world of "when". In that world I saved money for nursery furniture. In that world I prepared monthly budgets that included daycare, diapers, and formula. In that world I picked out baby names and worried about how I would feel when Tony was home with the baby on summer break while I went to work. I clung to "when" for a long time. Even after starting IVF I still spoke in "when" terms as if the force of my will could get me pregnant.
Eventually "when" slipped away and became "if". I couldn't plan a vacation that I might not enjoy if I got pregnant. I couldn't buy adult furniture for the "nursery" because where would I put it if I got pregnant? Changing from "when" to "if" was incredibly painful. Hope was slipping away.
Thinking of this yesterday made me wonder where I am today. I am a long way from "when" obviously. If "when" were a location on Earth it would be midnight there when it is noon here. But I also realized that I am moving away from "if" as well. I don't plan for "if I get pregnant" anymore. This is a good thing. I'm living my life. This is also a sad thing.
And I'm not quite sure what it means.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
The Joneses
If you have curly hair, you want straight hair. If you have straight hair (all together now) you want curly hair. I happen to have naturally curly hair. Sometimes I want straight hair, but mostly I am OK with my curls.
My mother is an incredibly jealous person. She is focused on what others have that she does not have. She is constantly questioning what people had to do to get what they have and always condemning people for getting more. Don't they have enough?!?!?! In ways this has jealousy ruined my mother's life. It impacted my life as well. Growing up, sometimes I wasn't allowed to invite friends to the house if their house was nicer than ours.
I really try to control jealousy in my own life. My philosophy is that everyone's life has happiness and sadness. Some people might hide the sadness and all you see is the happiness, but it is still there.
Infertility really tests this theory of mine, but even when a friend of mine's first IVF worked while my third IVF failed I could recognize that her life was not perfect. She had a successful pregnancy. She also had a husband with a lot of baggage (including troubled children) from a previous marriage. She had a town house that was underwater and she could not sell. She had a pink slip from her job and no prospects for a new job in this economy. Yes, her IVF was successful, but I wasn't volunteering to trade places with her.
When I posted that I was becoming a workaholic I didn't tell the whole story. At the time I was up for a promotion; an amazing promotion to a role for which I am unqualified, too young, too inexperienced, and for which there were many other more experienced candidates.
I got it.
I received many heartfelt congratulations from colleagues, but I could see the jealousy in some people's eyes. I could see the questioning. "Why is she in that job? Why does she get all the breaks? Why? Why? Why?" I understand their questioning. I have had some amazing career opportunites. I have been lucky to be at the right place at the right time.
I wanted to answer the unasked questions I saw in their eyes. I felt like saying, "Thanks for the congratulations. I'm not as lucky as you think. I can't have children. If I could have children I probably wouldn't have even applied for this job. I would give up this promotion in a second if I could go back and have a successful IVF. Don't envy me."
I definately have my moments when I wonder why. Why did I have to lose my father just when our relationship was starting to mature and bloom? Why did I have to move in junior high; the worst time for a girl to move and change schools? Why did I have to pay for my own first car, my own college education, my own wedding? And why oh why have I been afflicted with this fucking disease called infertility???
My life has sadness. I also have blessings. We all do. We just have to recognize them.
My mother is an incredibly jealous person. She is focused on what others have that she does not have. She is constantly questioning what people had to do to get what they have and always condemning people for getting more. Don't they have enough?!?!?! In ways this has jealousy ruined my mother's life. It impacted my life as well. Growing up, sometimes I wasn't allowed to invite friends to the house if their house was nicer than ours.
I really try to control jealousy in my own life. My philosophy is that everyone's life has happiness and sadness. Some people might hide the sadness and all you see is the happiness, but it is still there.
Infertility really tests this theory of mine, but even when a friend of mine's first IVF worked while my third IVF failed I could recognize that her life was not perfect. She had a successful pregnancy. She also had a husband with a lot of baggage (including troubled children) from a previous marriage. She had a town house that was underwater and she could not sell. She had a pink slip from her job and no prospects for a new job in this economy. Yes, her IVF was successful, but I wasn't volunteering to trade places with her.
When I posted that I was becoming a workaholic I didn't tell the whole story. At the time I was up for a promotion; an amazing promotion to a role for which I am unqualified, too young, too inexperienced, and for which there were many other more experienced candidates.
I got it.
I received many heartfelt congratulations from colleagues, but I could see the jealousy in some people's eyes. I could see the questioning. "Why is she in that job? Why does she get all the breaks? Why? Why? Why?" I understand their questioning. I have had some amazing career opportunites. I have been lucky to be at the right place at the right time.
I wanted to answer the unasked questions I saw in their eyes. I felt like saying, "Thanks for the congratulations. I'm not as lucky as you think. I can't have children. If I could have children I probably wouldn't have even applied for this job. I would give up this promotion in a second if I could go back and have a successful IVF. Don't envy me."
I definately have my moments when I wonder why. Why did I have to lose my father just when our relationship was starting to mature and bloom? Why did I have to move in junior high; the worst time for a girl to move and change schools? Why did I have to pay for my own first car, my own college education, my own wedding? And why oh why have I been afflicted with this fucking disease called infertility???
My life has sadness. I also have blessings. We all do. We just have to recognize them.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The Ovary Monologues
No one has ever really asked me where I came up with the name of this blog. It's not my name. I didn't make it up. Early in my career as an infertile there was one particular nurse who would show me to the exam room and say, "You know the drill; bottoms off and on the table." It stuck with me. She was so nonchalant about the whole thing; the whole thing being showing your vagina to a stranger. Of course eventually taking my pants off because the normal course of business. I almost absentmindedly disrobed at the dentist office once.
If I had to rename my blog today I would call it "The Ovary Monologues." Of course when this blog started I didn't know that my ovaries would cause so much trouble. I didn't think of my ovaries much at all. In sixth grade I learned about them in a sex education class. Over the years I didn't think of them much after that. I thought about my uterus when I had cramps or when I imagined a baby inside. I thought about my vagina (no comments there). My ovaries were ignored. Totally neglected. Abandoned. Overlooked. A non thought.
I remember the first time I saw them. They were bountiful and luscious and full of follicles. I was so proud. Then I found out they were too bountiful, too luscious, and my cycle was cancelled. I was disappointed, but still proud.
Shortly there after everything changed. My ovaries failed me. They failed to produce the proper quantity of follicles. They failed to produce the proper quality of eggs.
They
failed
me.
It was a total blindside. These little thought of organs suddenly took center stage. They were ruining my life.
I haven't seen my ovaries for months now. I'm making peace with them. They just couldn't do what I wanted them to do. That's just the way it is.
If I had to rename my blog today I would call it "The Ovary Monologues." Of course when this blog started I didn't know that my ovaries would cause so much trouble. I didn't think of my ovaries much at all. In sixth grade I learned about them in a sex education class. Over the years I didn't think of them much after that. I thought about my uterus when I had cramps or when I imagined a baby inside. I thought about my vagina (no comments there). My ovaries were ignored. Totally neglected. Abandoned. Overlooked. A non thought.
I remember the first time I saw them. They were bountiful and luscious and full of follicles. I was so proud. Then I found out they were too bountiful, too luscious, and my cycle was cancelled. I was disappointed, but still proud.
Shortly there after everything changed. My ovaries failed me. They failed to produce the proper quantity of follicles. They failed to produce the proper quality of eggs.
They
failed
me.
It was a total blindside. These little thought of organs suddenly took center stage. They were ruining my life.
I haven't seen my ovaries for months now. I'm making peace with them. They just couldn't do what I wanted them to do. That's just the way it is.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Is This Blog Dead?
Why do infertility bloggers stop blogging?
Scenario A: They have a baby and move on.
Scenario B: They give up on having a baby and move on.
So where have I been? Do either of these scenarios apply to me? Well, "Scenario A" definitely does not apply. No baby here, that hasn't changed. Does "Scenario B" apply? Not really. I still hear the whisper. I still think about my lack of babyhood daily. I still think about this blog almost daily. I still compose posts in my head while I drive, while I walk, while I work. For some reason I just haven't been able to put fingers to keyboard and get my thoughts digitized.
Work has been incredibly busy. Twelve hour days and working on the weekend has become the "new normal" for me. Lately at work I have wondered how the hell I did my job and IVF at the same time. Right now I can't imagine fitting appointments, mood swings, bloating, and general-icky-feeling-ness into my very full work day.
I control how busy I am at work to some extent. I control how much I delegate and how much I do myself. I can influence what projects I chose to take on. I can manage the expectations of my boss which determines how hard I push myself and my team. So I wonder how much of my work busy-ness is a self imposed coping mechanism.
Between you, me, and anyone that reads this blog, when I was doing IVF I definitely did not work hard. My IVF work days went something like this:
7:00 - 9:00 Google, Read blogs, or Write a blog post
9:00 - 11:00 Finish the things that ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO GET DONE to prevent losing my job
11:00 - 1:00 Doctor's Appointments, Run to Wholefoods for supplements, or Phone call to pharmacy and/or insurance company
1:00-3:00 Find someone to gossip with, maybe do more work, obsess over possibly losing job
3:00-4:00 Stare at clock until 4 (which is the earliest acceptable time to go home)
***Sprinkle in meetings as necessary
So what gives now? Am I paying for my previously lax schedule? Is it guilt for previously wasting company time? Am I trying to fill my days with something more productive? Coming from a Midwestern blue collar/agricultural background, hard work has been the answer to most questions. I come from a long line of workaholics. If work is the cure...then I'm on my way.
Scenario A: They have a baby and move on.
Scenario B: They give up on having a baby and move on.
So where have I been? Do either of these scenarios apply to me? Well, "Scenario A" definitely does not apply. No baby here, that hasn't changed. Does "Scenario B" apply? Not really. I still hear the whisper. I still think about my lack of babyhood daily. I still think about this blog almost daily. I still compose posts in my head while I drive, while I walk, while I work. For some reason I just haven't been able to put fingers to keyboard and get my thoughts digitized.
Work has been incredibly busy. Twelve hour days and working on the weekend has become the "new normal" for me. Lately at work I have wondered how the hell I did my job and IVF at the same time. Right now I can't imagine fitting appointments, mood swings, bloating, and general-icky-feeling-ness into my very full work day.
I control how busy I am at work to some extent. I control how much I delegate and how much I do myself. I can influence what projects I chose to take on. I can manage the expectations of my boss which determines how hard I push myself and my team. So I wonder how much of my work busy-ness is a self imposed coping mechanism.
Between you, me, and anyone that reads this blog, when I was doing IVF I definitely did not work hard. My IVF work days went something like this:
7:00 - 9:00 Google, Read blogs, or Write a blog post
9:00 - 11:00 Finish the things that ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO GET DONE to prevent losing my job
11:00 - 1:00 Doctor's Appointments, Run to Wholefoods for supplements, or Phone call to pharmacy and/or insurance company
1:00-3:00 Find someone to gossip with, maybe do more work, obsess over possibly losing job
3:00-4:00 Stare at clock until 4 (which is the earliest acceptable time to go home)
***Sprinkle in meetings as necessary
So what gives now? Am I paying for my previously lax schedule? Is it guilt for previously wasting company time? Am I trying to fill my days with something more productive? Coming from a Midwestern blue collar/agricultural background, hard work has been the answer to most questions. I come from a long line of workaholics. If work is the cure...then I'm on my way.
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