Category: Infertile Me

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Gratuities Not Accepted

When Hubby & I visited the Tulum Mayan Ruins, I have to admit that I hope it would be a mystical or magical experience. And in many ways, with the incredible rain storm we encountered, it was. Saul, our half-Mayan tour guide, gave us a little “tip” just before he sent us on our way to explore the ruins. He told us that at some point during our time at the ruins, we should close our eyes and open our minds and we would experience the exactly how sacred and spiritual this site was to the Mayan people.

So as we’re walking in the midst of this downpour of rain and as we’re wading in the warm sea at the Tulum beach, all I kept thinking about was how special it would be if, indeed, something wonderful would happen. And as Hubby & I get ready to exit the ruins, we closed our eyes and opened our minds. Now honestly, the only sound we could here was the rain steadily falling and the crowds of people chattering around us trying to stay dry. But me? I hung on to the hope that perhaps this special ground would prove to be “fertile” for us. In fact, I already had the name “Maya” picked out if I did become pregnant with a daughter.

This past Saturday, my hopes of a miracle pregnancy were once again dashed. And while it doesn’t sting so badly as it has over the past ten years, it still hurts. (And I do mean “hurt.” Damn those cramps and bloating and the feeling of being “off-balance.” It’s sucks that this monthly “symbol” of womanhood just reminds me of what a failure I am in that department. But I digress …)

Now I probably would have just picked myself up and chalked that dream of a miracle conception as yet another one of my silly attempts to bring hope into my life. But then I watched the movie “Waitress.” Which, as I think of it now, was probably not a good idea to watch, especially in the “hormonal” state of mind I was on Saturday.

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The premise of “Waitress” is that of a waitress (Jenna) who has this incredible talent of making such wonderful and uniquely-named pies. She is married to a husband who is very jealous and controlling. Jenna’s biggest dream is to win a pie-baking contest with a $25,000 award so that she can leave her husband and find happiness by owning her own pie shop. But then Jenna finds out she’s pregnant. And suddenly she finds herself having an affair with the new married OB-Gyn in town. And then she feels as if she’s stuck in this loveless and unhappy and unsatisfied life.

(Now, if you’re wanting to watch this movie, I suggest you skip the following paragraph and move on to the next. There really isn’t any major spoiler to this movie, but if you’re like me … I’d hate it if someone ruined the whole movie-watching experience by telling me exactly what happens in the end.)

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Throughout the movie, Jenna starts to write these letters to her unborn baby. The letters start out sounding bitter and angry and even at one point, pretty hostile (in my opinion) and resentful of having to carry this child and then have to spend the rest of her life unhappy because of this child. Even as she’s in the delivery room, you can clearly tell that she still does not want anything to do with this child. It wasn’t until her baby girl was placed into her arms that she finally found both love and happiness. But not only that, she found the strength and confidence within herself to divorce her husband, end the affair with her doctor, and open her own pie shop.

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So why, after watching this movie, did I find myself overwhelmed with emotions? And why did I find myself yet again crying uncontrollably in Hubby’s arms?

The most obvious emotion I felt was the anger and jealousy towards the main character. Jenna is pregnant and I’m not. Throughout the movie she voices how she doesn’t want to be pregnant and she doesn’t want to be tied down with an unwanted baby. And here I am wanting to go through pregnancy and definitely wanting to have a baby. How can I not feel anger and resentment after years of not being able to fulfill my dream of starting a family?

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Less obvious, was the empathy I felt towards Jenna. Here she is, living in a situation that she is trying to change, but for one reason (a controlling husband) or another (her unexpected pregnancy) things keep her from changing it. It’s similar to the way that I’ve felt about my infertility. Since marrying my best friend, what I’ve always wanted … what I always dreamt about … was having a family. I wanted to become a parent to children that I would love and cherish and raise to hopefully be smart and successful adults. That was my dream, my wish, my goal in life. And yet, everything Hubby & I had done under the sun to create a biological child of our own was unsuccessful. In that sense, I felt “stuck” in a situation that I couldn’t change, just as Jenna felt “stuck.” I couldn’t create a child, let alone sustain any pregnancy, that was both a part of me and my husband. I’d never know if certain traits (like the shape our child’s nose or his/her smile) was more like my husband or me. It’s those things that I cannot change. And it’s certainly those things that make me feel my sadness a little more deeply.

As I watched the ending of the movie (no, no spoilers here), I just felt so unfulfilled. Which was totally the opposite of what Jenna was feeling. It’s not that I’m unhappy with my life … no, that’s not the case. Because I certainly do have a ton of happiness and a lot to be thankful for in my life … the number one thing of which is a completely loving, devoted, and overall awesome husband/best friend. It’s just that the dream I have (the one with the white picket fence, the tall tree with a tire swing holding all of our kids, and the front yard that overlooks the ocean) seems like it’s exactly that … just a dream.

And I know that I still have that opportunity to make that dream into reality. And I know exactly what my next step is going to be. In a few days (when this blessed monthly event is over), I will pick myself up and resurface from this fog of sadness. But today, right now … I honestly just want to pull myself under the covers and sleep.

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Sideways Glance

Random Cool Picture

I’m sitting here reading some of my wonderful Infertility Friends’ blogs trying to post some responses. And as I sit here, my hubby is giving me sideways glances as he tries to play NBA Live on our PS2.

I know why he does this. And it’s one of those things that I’m both very grateful for and yet slightly bothered by.

You see the reason he’s doing that is to check on me. To make sure I’m okay after I was told some wonderful news tonite.

And while I am absolutely happy and excited that my longtime friend is pregnant with her third child, I can’t help be just a little sad for myself. Which, I’m wondering if I’m being just a little bit of a hypocrite by telling my friend not to be sad for me. (Because I know you still are, my dear friend!)

The thing is, I know Hubby is merely checking to see if I’m still emotionally intact. After all, in my previous blog post, I just happened to mention how my SIL’s news one year ago this Saturday sent me into a major tailspin. And how a couple days ago, I told him that every year I will now associate the Michigan/Ohio State game as the day I hit rock bottom. (Come to think of it, I just told my friend the same thing earlier this evening before finding out about her pregnancy … Woops. Insert foot in mouth.) And trust me, I am so very grateful (not to mention lucky) to know that Hubby cares about me THAT much to keep an eye on me.

Another Random Cool Picture

However, I do want to let him (as well as my dear friend) know that I’m okay. I do admit to being a little sad for myself; however, I will bounce back. After all, I am a much stronger person than I was a year ago.

So thank you, dear Hubby and my dear friend, for your absolute love and concern. I am forever grateful for both of you and of your support for me.

If it weren’t for either of you in my life, I wouldn’t be the stronger person I am today.

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Trusting Myself

I’ve been feeling a little off for the past week and a half. It started out as something simple, like feeling even more tired that I usually already am on a given day. Then I had this horrible headache that just wouldn’t go away. Towards the end of last week, I just felt like I wasn’t thinking or acting or generally functioning right.

Mother Goose & her Ducklings
at the Local Strip Mall

The last time I felt this way was back in March, and even back then I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling “off.” It wasn’t until a friend pointed out to me that it was the yearly “anniversary” of my failed IVF attempt. This friend, who is also a nurse, had a theory that the body can “remember” when certain past events come up during the course of the year. And though I might not have consciously remembered that March was the month that I failed to keep my little embryos tucked inside of me, my body certainly did. Or, more accurately, even though I may have been trying my best to FORGET the horrible emotions I felt one March, my body wasn’t letting me.

Initially, hearing that information made me angry. After all, we’re talking about the same body that has “betrayed” me. This is the same body that failed to carry a baby, let alone successfully create a life all on its own. So now I’m supposed to recognize that my body was reminding me of a very agonizing time in my life? And I’m supposed to trust my body, or more precisely, trust that the emotions I’ve been feeling are valid and not simply “crazy thoughts”? That hopefully, by remembering all the pain I went through that month, I will be able to move away from it? I wanted to chuck that theory out the window. Yet … the interesting thing was, once I acknowledged that the memory of that cold and lonely March was why I was feeling so funky, my fogginess started to clear.

Rabid Wolverine Fans

So what event was my body trying to remind me of this time? Well, almost a year ago while sitting at home watching the big University of Michigan vs. Ohio State football game in Columbus, OH on the TV, our phone rang. Now, if you’ve read my previous blog, or if you just really know my husband and I, we are huge Michigan football fans. And every year, the game against Ohio State is the biggest game of the season. So when the phone rang, we let the answering machine pick it up. What we heard on the machine was my SIL telling us her great news … that she and her husband were pregnant. And, well … we all can just imagine how well I took that news.

It isn’t just the news of my SIL’s pregnancy that one day in November that has sent me into some sort of emotional vortex. Really, I think it’s what that day symbolizes. It’s the day that I believe I hit absolute rock bottom in my infertility journey. And it was also the beginning of a year of incredible lows and lowers.

Apparently, this past week, my body has been telling me to remember that point in my life. To acknowledge where I was a year ago this coming Saturday. There are still some days I wish I could just forget that this past year has ever happened. However, I now recognize that I do have to look back and remember just so I can move forward towards whatever direction in life I’m supposed to take. Maybe it’s my body’s way of telling me to forgive “it” … or rather, to forgive myself … for not being able to bring my own flesh and blood into this world. And maybe, in some strange sense, my body is telling me to learn to trust my instincts and my overall self again.

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Happy Pomegranate Week

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week. And as I suspected, I am not aware of anything that the Archdiocese of Detroit is doing to “celebrate” this week. (Although, is there really anything to celebrate about infertility?) Ironically though, if one was interested in sending their children to Catholic schools in the area, the Archdiocese has designated today as “Open House” day for all the Catholic schools. Hmmm… if I HAD any children, I would probably be taking part of this event. But alas …

So knowing that my faith wasn’t doing anything to promote this week, I went online to see if there was anything locally going on this week. What did my search yield? That there was absolutely NOTHING happening in and around the great city of Detroit. Actually, I didn’t find anything within the whole state of Michigan. And I EVEN checked the Resolve website. Pretty darn sad, if you ask me. So it’s no wonder why infertility as a chronic disease is just not something that many people are willing to discuss. (And I DO mean a chronic disease, like diabetes or cancer. In my humble opinion, infertility is a disease that requires a lifestyle adjustment.)

That’s why I decided to rename this week “Pomegranate Week” instead.

Why Pomegranate? In a movement started via blogging, the idea of having a symbol for those who have experienced or currently experiencing infertility evolved. This led to a lengthy discussion about a symbol that would identify other “infertiles” from one another as well as perhaps a catalyst to discussing infertility to those who might question what the symbol was about. Eventually what this group came up with was a simple thread, the color of pomegranate. This thread, which was to be tied along the right wrist as a bracelet, could be as simple or as ornate as the wearer wanted it to be. And thus this movement became known as “Infertility’s Common Thread.”

I could go on and on about the history of how this came about and all the symbolism to it. However, I think the original statement that was written by a fellow “infertile” says it best:

Pomegranates, a longstanding symbol of fertility, serve as a strong analogy to those suffering through infertility. Though each pomegranate skin is unique in colour and texture, the seeds inside are remarkably similar from fruit to fruit. Though our diagnosis is unique — endometriosis, low sperm count, luteal phase defect, or causes unknown — the emotions, those seeds on the inside, are the same from person to person. Infertility creates frustration, anger, depression, guilt, and loneliness. Compounding these emotions is the shame that drives people suffering from infertility to retreat into silence.

In addition, the seeds represent the multitude of ways one can build their family: natural conception, treatments, adoption, third-party reproduction, or even choosing to live child-free.

The pomegranate thread holds a two-fold purpose: to identify and create community between those experiencing infertility as well as create a starting point for a conversation. Women pregnant through A.R.T., families created through adoption, or couples trying to conceive during infertility can wear the thread, identifying themselves to others in this silent community. At the same time, the string serves as a gateway to conversations about infertility when people inquire about its purpose. These conversations are imperative if we are ever to remove the social stigma attached to infertility. Tie on the thread because you’re not alone. Wear to make aware.

NOT a Kabbalah Bracelet

So a few weeks ago, I went out and bought my pomegranate colored thread (DMC embroidery floss # 814). And yesterday, I finally made my bracelet. Today, I wear it proudly and if anyone should ask, I would gladly share a discussion with them.

For my fellow Infertility Friends, Happy Pomegranate Week!

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Needle Nut

I have been a little busy lately. Probably a good thing, as I do need to keep myself busy otherwise I will start to overanalyze things like I typically do. And then, well … that just gets me in trouble. (I swear, there is something to be said about thinking “too much.”) However, this time around, I’m keeping myself busy is for a good cause.

My Newest “Nephew” Jakobi

Last year, a co-worker and I read an article in our work newsletter that talked about a couple of other employees in another one of our offices who knitted and crocheted quite a few baby hats and donated them to a local hospital’s Neonatal and Special Care Nursery units. Since the two of us knit, we thought that the following year we would try and do the same thing.

And over the course of the year, we did forget about it. It wasn’t until the most recent events concerning my nephew, Liam, that I once again remembered our plan. Since we had quite a few knitters and crocheters in our office, we decided to include them in our plans as well. We also thought that instead of limiting our project to premie and newborn hats, we would extend it to chemo caps for those kids in the Pediatric Oncology floors.

Since presenting this idea to our other co-workers a few weeks ago, we have received an overwhelmingly warm response. We had such a great response that we’ve even designated our lunch time on Mondays to work on our projects and to get tips or exchange patterns for different designs. (We’re a pretty big group in our cafeteria that our group has been given the nickname “Needle Nuts.”) And as of this past week, we have well over 20 knitted or crocheted premie hats and chemo caps in a variety of different colors and styles. It’s been like Christmas for me every day, as there is always a new item added to the box next to my desk.

“The Therapeutic Blanket Project”

Doing this project has become therapeutic for me… especially given the fact that I’m actually knitting hats for babies that won’t ever be my own. I always thought it was ironic that I was a knitter. After all, there’s a common misnomer that knitters were either grandmothers or mothers who would knit things for babies or young children. And here I was, the childless wonder.

I started knitting a few years ago simply as a diversion. And when I found out that my SIL was pregnant, I knew that I was going to knit a blanket and hat & booties for this child, even though I knew it would just about kill me. But I finished that project (unofficially known as the “therapeutic blanket project”), and I felt really good about doing it too. (It’s just too bad that Liam never got to use them.) After that, I went on to knit a newborn hat this summer for my cousin in Calgary who was due in September.

And now … I’m heading up our holiday needle craft project at work. To be doing that is a big step for me. For so long I felt so down on myself (and there are still quite a few days that I do) and quite honestly, clinically depressed. Every literature I ever read about trying to snap out of depression was to do something for others; the theory being that if you helped others less fortunate, you wouldn’t feel so down on yourself. And it’s a really good theory. However, try telling that to someone who could barely take care of herself, let alone help someone else out. Nearly next to impossible, I tell you.

But now that I have a little more energy, I do feel that I am able to help others out a little more. And that’s a good thing … for this Needle Nut.


The Box of Hats Thus Far