I Hate Christmas

I decided not to post anything about the holidays before the holidays because I didn't want to further bum anyone out who was already kinda bummed out.

I hate Christmas.

Well, maybe I don't hate it, I just don't care for it.  Christmas is just....meh.  Why?

I have no children.  This is stating the obvious.  Christmas is such a child centric holiday and I just feel left out most of the time.  I also have no nieces or nephews to dote on (although I'm still unsure if I will be able to muster the grace to dote on nieces or nephews when that time comes)

I don't get any presents.  My family has evolved from presents to trading names to trading gift cards to nothing.   We decided that spending time together was more important than gifts.  The only problem is that we forgot that we really don't enjoy each other's company that much.

I hate the coworker-gift-dance-of-awkwardness.  It's obvious to me that some folks enjoy buying gifts for their coworkers.  I'm just not into it.  If you get me a gift, then I have to run out and get you a gift.  I hate it when someone gives me a gift and I haven't gotten them anything.  Gift giving at the office is like orgasms.  It's best when it happens simultaneously.

I think that the best I can say about the holidays is that they are over and I survived.  I hope you did too!

thoughts on hope

On the way to work several months ago I was listening to NPR.  The story was about a man whose family was exiled from Libya in the seventies.  In exile his father was arrested by Egyptian intelligence officers and extradited back to Libya.  He and his family are pretty sure that his father is dead after all these years, but don't really have definitive prove if he is alive or dead.

So he always lives with a bit of hope.

The man went on to say that he was once in Ireland and met a woman whose father was lost at sea decades ago and never seen again, presumed (but not confirmed) dead.  He felt as though he had a shared experience with this woman.  They understood each other.

She always lives with a bit of hope too.

He went on to describe the misery of hope.  Generally we think of hope as a good thing.

All hope is not lost.

As long as you still have hope...

Keep hope alive.

But hope can be a bad thing too.  Hope can prevent you from moving on.  Hope can prevent you from having closure.

If you are still reading here, I am still alive.  I am healing and moving on with my life post-fertility treatments.  I still have hope.

More to come...

Liz

I've been reading Liz's blog since I started blogging.  (One of two blogs that I have been reading for years with a writer still writing and still without child.)  It took her years just to get to IVF number one and it didn't work. 

It's not fair and there are no words except, I'm so sorry.

be IN

I AM INfertile...

But I am so much more "IN" than that...

I’ve been tested. I’ve been probed. I’ve been injected. I’ve missed work for appointments. I’ve researched. I’ve asked questions. I’ve worried. I’ve made phone calls. I’ve prioritized...

I AM INcessant...

I’ve gone to baby showers. I’ve smiled at other‘s “big news“. I’ve purchased baby gifts. I’ve babysat. I’ve missed chances. I’ve lost sleep. I’ve lost hope. I’ve lost embryos. I’ve lost babies...

I AM INdestructible...

I might be a mother. I might not be a mother. I might come to terms. I might never quit. I will survive...

I AM INvincible...

I am INfertile.  I am INcessant.  I am INdestructible.  I am INvincible.  I am IN.

Get the badge at the right that links to this post.  Be IN.

Emails from the Subconscious

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.

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...

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.