Category: Blog

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Googly-Eyed

Lately I’ve been (what my husband has said “obsessively”) reading many other IF blogs. I completely blame Google Reader for it. And as Mel and Io have pointed out, it’s So. Damn. Addicting.

I find myself attracted to the fellow bloggers who, like me, are still childless. Specifically, those that have had “years” of experience in TTC and have either (recently) been successful in becoming pregnant, or have decided to forego any further IF treatment and chose to adopt or remain childless. I’m sure it’s because these are the fellow IF’ers that I can relate to the most, given my own experiences. But truly, I think it’s because these are the people that have seem to write about the same fears and hopes that I am feeling at this exact moment.

Not that any of the other IF blogs I’ve read don’t express the same fears and hopes as well. I guess it’s more because of where a person is at in their IF journey. For those that are “newer” to the IF roller coaster, there is still fear expressed in their writings … but, maybe it’s just me, but these posts seem to have more of a positive or hopeful outlook. I guess I’m just way too jaded and disappointed after all these years.

And for those IF’ers that have been successful in conceiving AND delivering a live healthy (or even not so healthy) baby … well, for lack of other words, they were able to do something that I haven’t been able to do. Ever. Not that a fellow IF’er can’t relate to or empathize with exactly what I’ve been through, it’s just that their posts will inevitably (and justifiably) become more about their child. And I should add here that yes, I am happy for them and I will continue to read their updates. However, I hope they might understand that it does become more difficult to relate to the change in their “no longer child-free” lifestyle.

I realize I’m beginning to sound horribly petty here. Especially since less than a year ago, I was complaining about how I couldn’t find anyone that might be going through something similar to what I was going through. I didn’t think that anyone could feel as “stuck” as I was in my IF journey, like I couldn’t take a step forward towards making my “Mommy Dreams” come true (whether through more ART procedures or through adoption). I’ve learned since then that, while they might not be going through the same exact thing that I was going through, there are other IF bloggers out there that share many of the same hopes and fears and habits (read: hiding underwear) as I do.

Really though … it doesn’t matter whether others are at the same point in their IF journey as I am … I just truly do enjoy reading about others’ experiences, hopes and fears. And I absolutely LOVE reading about other IF’ers thoughts and quirks about every day things. It honestly just makes me feel less of a truly crazed infertile “freak.”

So what’s the purpose of this post? Well … really, I guess there is none. Other than to wish that I might have found this type of support (and outlet for my IF frustrations) years ago … because maybe then I wouldn’t have felt so lonely for so long.

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Open-Faced Sandwich

I’m back at the same hospital where my Dad had his surgery. Except this time, it’s to take my Mom to her previously scheduled routine outpatient procedure. As my Dad still cannot drive and my Mom’s procedure requires that she has a companion to take her to and from her appointment, I volunteered to take her.

And as I’m sitting in the waiting room (just picture my hair in piggy-tails, by the way … hah!), I’m looking around to see other folk waiting for their loved ones to come out. Most of those are men and women who look like they’re in their late-40’s or early 50’s, and I was expecting that they would be waiting for their spouses. So imagine my surprise when I’m seeing most of the patients being discharged are older … and most likely my fellow waiting room companions’ parents.

And then I realized … that with this appointment, I’ve been officially “inducted” into the sandwich generation.

Except my parents aren’t, what I consider, “elderly.” (Hey, other than my Dad’s lengthy hospitalization and now subsequent follow-up appointments, both of my parents are otherwise pretty active.) Plus, I’m not exactly in my late 40’s or even my early 50’s.

And I’m not exactly “sandwiched” either. Because technically, being “sandwiched” means being placed in the middle of something. And the term “Sandwich Generation” implies that a person who fits this category is caring for both their parents AND their children.

As I am currently childless, I guess this really means I’m part of the “Open-Faced Sandwich Generation.” And to be completely honest … being childless and growing old has always been a concern for me.

Hubby & I have this longstanding joke about Senior Apartments or Assisted Livings that started when I first graduated from college and was looking at moving out of my parents’ house. (I must add that we were just newly engaged at that time.) He pointed to this one set of apartments and suggested that we check them out … not knowing that they were actually Senior Apartments.

From then, any senior apartment and assisted living we’d drive by we would always say, “What about those ones?” And the response would always be, “Nah, it’s not close enough to a movie theater or a library.” That’s because we always say that when we retire, all we want to do is watch movies and read. But the truth is, moving into those type of places could certainly be in our future.

Not that I expect to remain childless (I will adopt, damnit!), but if Hubby & I chose to remain childless … who would be that person to take care of us if we were too frail to take care of one another? Who would drive us to our appointments if we weren’t able to do it ourselves? Who would be No. 1 on our speed dial? Who would be that “Emergency Contact” person on our medical records? I couldn’t very well expect our nephew (or any of our future nieces and nephews) to do that … they’d have their own set of parents to worry about.

I must add here that even if … or rather when … we have children, I would never expect them to take complete care and responsibility of us. We’re waaay too much of an independent-minded and problem-solving couple by nature. And hell … as a Nurse Case Manager, these are the things I’m trained and certified to help problem-solve with the population I serve.

Regardless, this is a concern. And a valid one at that. And it’s yet another thing (along with possibly not ever being a “Mother of the Bride/Groom“) that the other 80% of women not experiencing infertility wouldn’t necessarily have to think about. At least not yet.

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Un-Veiled

First of all, I just wanted to say “Thank You!!” for all the bloggy-love as I officially celebrated my first blogiversary yesterday. I am truly lucky to have such great blog friends!! Reading your blogs and especially your comments to my posts have definitely got me through this past year …. -)

Moving on …

To shake things up at work, our bosses decided to do something different. Today was “Hat Day,” where we could all wear a silly hat, a nice spring hat, or even a “Cat in the Hat” hat. What did I decide to wear? Well … check it out!

 

Yikes! Check out the luggage under my eyes!

Okay, so it wasn’t silly or spring-y … but I figured, “Hey! When am I ever going to have the occasion to wear my wedding veil again?” What I really wanted to do was wear a simple white dress and white patent leather shoes with white tights and be a “First Communion” gal. Wouldn’t that have been a hoot?

Over the weekend while at my parents’ house, I went into their cedar closet and dug my veil out of the plastic bag it was in. (Yes, the wedding dress is still hanging in there, too. You think after 11-plus years I might actually get it preserved …) So rather than post our wedding picture once again … and as an homage to my Dad, I figure I’d post this picture of our Father-Daughter dance. (Plus, I think it shows off the details of my dress and veil a little more than our wedding pic … okay, maybe not!)


Dad & I danced to "Unforgettable"

But seriously … at work when I brought out my veil, many of my co-workers thought I was nuts to do so. “What about keeping it nice and preserved?” or “Don’t you want to keep it safe for when your daughter gets married?” Even when I correct them and say, “I don’t have any children” or “There isn’t a daughter to pass it down to” they always say smugly all-knowingly, “You never know …”

“Duh,” methinks to myself, “You’re right. I’ll never know. And damnit, you don’t know either.”

Do people honestly think that it’s easy for me to think in those terms?! “You never know…” Is this supposed to give me some sort of hope that maybe in the future, I will be able to pass on my bridal veil and/or my bridal gown to my future daughter?

Do they know that this is one of the things that I fear I’ll never be able to experience? To be able to be a “mother of the bride” or to see my husband have his moment in walking his daughter down the aisle? To possibly even have grandchildren?


Yes, this is me ...

Sheesh, I’m still trying to get over my fear of not ever being able to dress a nursery, let alone buy baby clothes for a baby that may never come. Or seeing our child go through his or her First Communion. Trying to imagine anything past those moments just seems (and no pun intended) inconceivable.

Okay. Enough of my ranting. Really, I was actually just trying to post a funny post and it turned into this.

Hmmm … must be the damn Lupron that’s got me hot under the collar, literally and figuratively (damn hot flashes)!

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Hey Peeps!

One of my favorite things to have around Easter time are Peeps. Yeah, I know … all that marshmallowy- sugar … but I just can’t resist!

So imagine my surprise when I found these at my local pharmacy. How awesome is this to combine both Easter AND St. Patty’s Day?! Yep. Had to buy them …

Of course, I was at the pharmacy to pick up my latest dose of Lupron. Ugh … with all that’s happened this past month, I didn’t even get a chance to look for a new OB-Gyn. Must. Put. That. On. Things-To-Do. List. Immediately …

But first, must wish everyone out there a Happy St. Patty’s Day! May the luck of the Filipino-Irish (hah!) be with you all.

Oh, and Happy 1st Blogiversary to me. Woo-hoo!

And now … time to devour those Peeps.

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Everyday is Like Sunday …

I have this habit of singing this song whenever I’m up early on a Sunday morning. It’s probably a leftover habit from the mid-80’s. It reminds me of getting up on Sundays and having to go to mass with my parents. Hmm … what does that say about me?

So here I am, sitting in a relatively quiet household. The only sound I can hear is my stomach growling (it’s calling for pancakes or waffles) and my Hubby’s breathing as he sleeps. I figure he deserves to sleep in … he’s had a rough couple of weeks, not only with my Dad’s hospitalization but with some major projects he had going on at work at the same time.

And although I wanted to stay cuddled up next to Hubby and sleep in a bit, I had to make a trip over to my parents’ house to drop off a prescription for my Dad.

Yep … Dad made it home safe and sound. Up next … a visit from a home care nurse to help them go over all his new medications and to go over some important things he needs to do … like watching his diet and continuing to do aggressive deep breathing treatments to prevent any further pneumonia.

I specifically asked for a visiting nurse to come out to see my parents because, even though I could be that person to go over all these things, there are some things that get reinforced better by other professionals than by family members. No matter how many times my brother and I go over it ourselves with them.

Speaking of my brother … he’s back in Chi-town where he’s finishing up his last year of residency. He takes his boards on Monday and Tuesday and I’m wishing him the best of luck. He has totally been a trooper during these past weeks, having to drive back and forth (a total of FOUR times) to show his support for both Mom and Dad.

But really … what I wanted to do was to share pictures of his dog. Meet Wrigley. He’s a five-year ex-racing greyhound that my brother and SIL picked up from a rescue league outside of Chicago.

This dog is SO laid back … you can’t help but love Wrigley and his personality. The whole time I was there, he did not ONCE bark (unlike our “puppy” who sounds off at approximately 30 barks per minute). And once Wrigley decides he likes you, he literally wants to sit with you (or on you) and follow you wherever you go.

Wish I could see Wrigley more often. But alas … his Auntie Em only gets to see him whenever he’s brought into town with his Daddy. And can you just imagine this dog driving in a small Mazda for five hours from Chicago to Detroit? Geesh … where does he fit!