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.

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.

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. 

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.

Progress

When my direct report told me that his wife had a miscarriage (her third).  My brain didn't scream, "AT LEAST YOU HAVE TWO KIDS!!!!".  Instead it whispered, "at least you have two kids."

I consider this progress.

When I casually mentioned donor eggs to my husband (as I do about once a month, just to test the waters.)  He didn't say, "Absolutely not, I don't want to discuss it."  Instead he said, "Let's discuss it in a year."

I consider this progress.

Last night I had a dream...

...that Tony and I were in a delivery room.  I was in a hospital gown.  I was pregnant and about to give birth.  We were holding each other and dancing.  We were both so happy.

Even in my dreamy state there was a voice in the back of my head telling 'dream Megan', "Stop dreaming this.  Stop thinking this way.  This isn't going to happen for you.  If you keep this up it will only be painful when you wake up to reality." 

But 'dream Megan' kept dreaming and the voice in the back of my head kept berating her until finally I woke up.

Bo Turns One!

My "baby" is one!  We celebrated with a special cookie. 

See some of my favorite BoBo pics at the crafty cpa.