Category: Infertility

Posted on

Is It Cold? Or Is It Just Me?

I picked up this nervous habit over the last year. At first I thought it may have been a side effect of one of the new medications I started, but then I realized that I would only do it when I was feeling anxious. I’ve actually learned to take that habit as a sign of when I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed. When it does happen, I’ve learned to pause for a few seconds to take a deep breath and calm myself down. But since our first trip to Virginia Beach just before New Year’s Eve, I feel like my jaw has been “shivering” uncontrollably.

Yes, that’s right. We made two trips to Virginia Beach in the span of two weeks to visit my husband’s family. Unfortunately, the second trip was not a completely happy one, as my husband’s grandmother (Nanay) passed away. It was great to see all the family gather together, but it was rather difficult to get through those days.

During the 12-hour car rides to and from Virginia Beach, I managed to start on a crochet project for a coworker. She had asked me to make a hat and bootie set for a friend of hers who was expecting. And since I was on a roll with making all those premie caps at the time, I told her it would be no problem. And I do have to say that the finished product looked absolutely adorable.

Crocheted Hat & Bootie Set

I showed my husband my little creations the evening I finished them, proud of having tackled another pattern (the booties) that I’ve never done before. What I ended up seeing was this sad expression on his face. And the thing is, I knew exactly what he was thinking. That’s because earlier in the day I found out that the latest celebrity news included yet another celebrity pregnancy … this time it was that Matthew McConnaughy and his girlfriend were expecting and Matt was quoted as being “stoked.”

Of course the first thing I thought of when I heard that news was “Why-oh-why must I yet be tortured by another celebrity flaunting the fact that they can procreate while Hubby & I can’t?” But then I kinda delved deeper into that thought and was imagining what my hubby might think when he heard that “Naked-pot-smoking-bongo-playing” man was going to be a father. I knew what I was feeling – that it wasn’t fair and that I knew my husband would be an excellent father. I’ve known that ever since we first started dating because of how he was with his younger cousins, Mark & Mary. Watching him throughout the years interact with our nephew, Tyler, has been incredible. He has so much patience and love that it seems like such a damn waste that he can’t use those same qualities on our own child. And what about the whole biological aspect of it? How was it like for him to know that he wouldn’t be able to pass his genes on? Or even his name (he’s a “Junior”)? I imagined him going through all these different emotions, doubly intense now … especially since his grandmother had just passed on.

So as I saw my husband’s sad expression that evening, I did the best I could by curling up next to him on our couch, listening to what he had to say. While he played with the tiny booties I crocheted, he said how those little booties made him sad that we didn’t have our own child. And how strong he thought I was for making them, as he didn’t know if he would be able to do the same thing for someone else. And how he wished that I could make it for our own child.

Hubby & Our
Cousin’s Daughter, Eva

He went on to explain that he felt that he wasn’t getting any younger and that he wished that we were already parents. He also mentioned that with his health problems (along with mine) he was concerned over his own mortality. And that it was probably because of Nanay’s death that he was feeling so sad. Since hubby doesn’t readily talk about how he felt about our situation, at that moment I wished SO BADLY that I could make him feel better. And that we could change our situation immediately. If I could have snatched any baby off the street at that moment then I would have just to give my husband the ability to be a parent.

As it was, that same night we got a phone call from one of best friends who’s wedding we attended last July in Portland, OR. He’s an incredibly wonderful friend who has always been there for us whenever we just needed to vent and to talk. He’s the same guy who would bend over backwards to help us out if we were ever in a pinch. And he was calling to let us know that him and his wife were expecting.

How’s that for timing?

If those two events in our life weren’t unexpected enough, then the news that my SIL was pregnant was definitely a shocker. Although I do confess, I saw this one coming. It wasn’t like the subject of having more children didn’t come up after Liam passed away this past September. I guess I just didn’t think it would happen … I don’t know … so soon. But then again, my SIL has always been fertile.

All the tell-tale signs were there. One event, in particular got me thinking about her. It started out with a conversation I had with my SIL just after New Year’s Day. I told my SIL that I was a little worried about her; because during the holidays, she seemed really tired all the time and appeared withdrawn from the rest of the family. When we asked her to go with us to take our cousins from Toronto bowling, she kindly declined saying that she wasn’t feeling too well. What I initially thought was that she was down in the dumps; especially since this would be the first major holidays without Liam. And I knew how messed up my emotions were during the previous Christmas. I just wanted to let her know that I was there for her if she needed me. What I was told then was that she was okay, and that she would tell me what was going on in “due time.” I remember thinking at that exact moment, “She’s pregnant.” And in fact, later on that evening as I was relaying to Hubby our conversation I told him the same thing, that I thought his sister was pregnant. I just had THAT strong of a feeling.

Anyway, my SIL and her husband sent a card to our house that arrived this past Friday which announced their news. It was a beautiful card that said that she wanted us to be the first to know as she knew how difficult the news of her last pregnancy affected me. I truly appreciate the effort that she put into the card and into the note that she had written inside of it, because it just showed me how much she truly cared about the sensitive nature of this topic.

Hubby & Our Godson, Jacob

Of course, that didn’t stop me from saying to Hubby (in true Catherine Z-Jones in “High Fidelity”-fashion), “I knew it” over and over again. Nor did it stop my jaw from shivering uncontrollably that evening. Nor did it stop the tears from flowing later on that night (damn … couldn’t deep-breathe enough to calm myself down). But that’s okay, because I know now what I didn’t know just over a year ago last November. And that is that I am allowed to feel sadness for myself and for my husband. And I’m going to allow myself to feel whatever I want (sadness, anger, guilt, etc) for as long as I want. But I’m NOT going to let it take over my entire emotional being.

So while Hubby & I are extremely happy for his sister and our “West-coast” friends (and even my HS friend who is also due this year), I think that the recent passing of Nanay has got us both thinking of our mortality … and even our legacy. What ARE we going to leave behind for others? Who will we be able to pass our legacies on to when we die? We’re both not getting any younger and I admit that I’m terrified that the life I have been given has been utterly futile. Especially since I’m infertile and all that I’ve ever wanted was to be a good role-model, a parent to a child who I would be able to pass my lifeline on to.

So … with that said, the time has come for Hubby & me to start moving forward. SMALL “baby” steps forward (why does that phrase strike me as rather funny, right now?), may I say. We’ve talked about adoption being our next step. We know it’s the only next step. We’ve done a little research in the past and, quite honestly I think I was too overwhelmed with everything to fully process. So now, I’ve got to start up that research again. And maybe look into other options such as domestic adoption. I’m downright terrified to move forward, but I know that for our sake … I must.

And maybe … just maybe … I can get this damn jaw to stop shivering.

Posted on

"PS I Love You" … and Other Emotions

I love the book, “PS I Love You” by Cecilia Ahern. I picked it up used at the local B&N a few years ago, just in time to bring it with me to our trip to Seattle. And as I was sitting on the plane reading the book, I would need to dig through my purse just to find a napkin or a piece of tissue paper just to wipe all the fallen tears. It was THAT good of a book for me.

When I found out that they were making the book into a movie … let alone starring Hilary Swank, playing the lead character, Holly Kennedy … I had my apprehensions. First of all, the book was supposed to be based in Ireland and yet the movie is in NYC. Second, it was starring Hilary Swank. Don’t get me wrong … she’s awesome in any of her Academy Award performances, but I just didn’t see her playing Holly.

What got me to the theater instead, was them darn trailers. That and seeing that not only Denny (from Grey’s Anatomy) was in it, but Gerard Butler (King Leonides from “300”) was playing the husband. Yum. (Yes, along with Johnny Depp … I have a sick fascination for certain celebs.)

One weekend, I dragged Hubby to the theater to see it. And honestly, although there are parts of the movie that aggrevated me, I did like the movie. It certainly does not follow the plot exactly to the specifications of the book (I mean, really … what book-to-film movie ever does …), but it highlights much of the same core emotions that got me in the book. There’s one scene in particular that totally got me. It’s one of those rare situations where seeing it on film right in front of you is ten times better than reading the book.

(If you’re wanting to see the movie and/or read the book, I suggest you skip the next two paragraph.)

*
 At this point in the movie, Holly is on a weekend trip with her girlfriends, all set up and paid for by her husband prior to his death. Her one friend just confessed that she was finally getting married. Her other friend also confesses that she’s (finally) pregnant. The look on Holly’s face said it all. While she was happy for them, she couldn’t help but be sad for herself. Then after the initial “Yay! We’re so excited about the news in our lives!” the subject was suddenly and akwardly dropped.

What’s more is later, Holly overhears her friends in the other room still overly excited about each other’s announcement and hears them planning for the next stage in their lives. It was nonstop chatter, while Holly stood there just looking utterly sad and alone.

*

At that point in the movie, I just completely lost it. Tears were streaming down my face while Hubby held me tight. I turned to him at that point and said, “I know exactly how she feels.”

And I totally did. It’s that feeling of emptiness inside of me. That black hole that some days I think will never be filled up. And in certain circumstances, the more happiness other people have in their lives, the deeper I feel like climbing into that big black abyss and just not resurfacing until all the excitement dies down.

It’s not because I’m being selfish (as later on in the movie, it was pointed out to Holly that she acting that way … pissed me off, too. Grrr …) or that I’m not happy for the other person. It’s not even jealousy that drives me to feel that way. It’s the feeling that I should be able to have some of that happiness too. That I’m entitled to have those type of exciting moments in my life as well.

Yes, I can hear people say … “Well, you can’t just expect happiness to happen. You have to make those moments happen for yourself.” And that’s where I say to that person, “What makes you think that I haven’t tried?”

I have put myself through everything possible to become pregnant with my Hubby & my biological child. I have had enough procedures to “clear” me out to last me a lifetime. I have suffered through months of poking myself with needles to help create the “optimum conditions” to impregnate me. I have dealt with month after month after years of hope at the beginning of my cycle followed by failure at the end of my cycle. I suffered the ultimate blow with my one failed attempt at IVF. I feel I have spent enough time and money and emotions of trying to get to that happiness. And yet here I am, barren and still childless.

So don’t tell me that I haven’t tried to create that biological child of mine … that exciting moment I’ve been wanting for the past ten-plus years. And don’t tell me that I’m being selfish for feeling as angry as I do at those times. And please please PLEASE don’t say to me, “Well, you could always adopt.” The truth is, we are looking into that option, but I still need to grieve the fact that I cannot produce my own biological child. And I will never know what it’s like to be pregnant. And I will never know what it’s like to breast-feed. The fact that I won’t be able to even announce to our family and friends that Hubby & I are pregnant is enough to grieve.

So please allow me have those moments of sadness and anger about my childless situation. And please, even though I find it difficult to talk about … push me to do so. Because, while it’s ten times easier to write or blog about it, sometimes having the physical human touch behind it makes me feel less alone and more loved.

PS Thanks for letting me vent.

Posted on

It's the Most _____ Time of the Year

Hubby at a local bookstore wearing
an Emily knitted creation

Fill in the blank:

A) Wonderful
B) Stressful
C) Overwhelming
D) Heart-breaking

Trick question. Actually it’s all of the above.

Don’t get me wrong. I do love the holiday season. There is definitely something magical in the air this time of the year. But then there’s the feeling of being completely overwhelmed by what needs to be done before Christmas Eve. There’s putting up the decorations (still not done), sending out Christmas cards (uh, yeah … also not done), shopping for gifts (not even a third done), and then wrapping all the gifts (not even close).

If that’s not overwhelming enough, then the thought of heading out to the local mall to do some shopping is enough to send me over the edge in the stress department. Ugh. Just trying to find a parking spot gets my (already high) blood pressure rising. And then some people are just absolutely rude when you’re in the stores. I’m not talking about the salespeople either, if you catch my drift.

However outside of any type of shopping area, people are actually very friendly, very giving and very much in the holiday spirit. In fact, I actually enjoy going into work during this time of the year for multiple reasons (one of which I will explain a little later), especially because all the Christmas decorations are all up and there’s always Christmas music playing in our main foyer. Our department tends to do little holiday things, like “Secret Santa’s,” and ornament exchanges and even cube-decorating contests. Not to mention the constant stream of goodies that come in from different vendors each day.

And if going to work doesn’t get me in the mood, then certainly my husband does. He absolutely loves Christmas time. I think it’s mainly because it’s the time of the year that very much reflects his personality. He is so absolutely a giving person. He loves to give gifts to people and doesn’t expect anything in return. The reason he likes to do this is mostly to see what their reactions would be to each present that’s opened; especially because he puts a lot of thought into each gift. I know. I’ve been the receiver of such gifts for many many years … he’s always been an awesome shopper when it comes to me. And because he has such a wonderful outlook on the holiday season, you can’t help but be affected by his attitude.

Strange Guy (holding a Santa) on a
Suburban Detroit Street Corner

But then there’s me. Always Mrs. Pessimistic. Seriously, I don’t think I was always like this. But as I’ve alluded to in past posts, I believe that experiences in my life have taught me to be this way. Up until last holiday season, I would remember feeling very tentative and anxious as Christmas would approach. It’s because Christmas, like any other major event or holiday throughout the year would remind me exactly what I was missing in my life. Every birthday would remind me that I was yet another year older and that another year had past where I didn’t reach my goal of becoming a mom. My wedding anniversary was a reminder that I still didn’t have that family that I dreamt about on the day I got married. And let’s not even get into the whole “Hallmark Holidays,” like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day.

Christmas has always been especially difficult. I believe it’s because this holiday is all about children and family. (Yes Mom, my good Catholic school girl background DOES know that “Jesus is the reason for the Season.” But this is different … ) It’s the time of year where children’s faces brighten with the thought of Santa and of presents. And the time of year when plans are made to reunite with both immediate and/or distant family members to celebrate. I have fond memories of Christmas Eve as a child, excited to be with cousins and exchanging presents with loved ones.

I think it’s only natural to want to continue to do the same thing the older you get. You want to experience making those memories with your own children. You want to see the faces of wonder and joy in their eyes as they see the Christmas tree brimming with presents and their stockings stuffed with goodies. The problem with being infertile is that you don’t have those kids. And when spending time with your family (as well as your husband’s), you can’t help but associate the holidays with some bittersweet emotions.

Last Christmas was incredibly difficult. Truth be told, I totally dreaded the whole season to the point where I didn’t even want to put up our tree. I purposely did not take time off from work during the holidays and volunteered to cover the assignments for those that did take time off just so I could keep myself busy. I threw myself into knitting presents for family members to distract me from the fact that I would be facing all of my husband’s family who would be so excited about his sister’s pregnancy. It wasn’t until December 23rd that my patient and wonderful husband convinced me to decorate our tree in order to get me in the holiday spirit (which, of course, worked like a charm. Smart hubby … ).

Our Kitty Cat, Rain. Doesn’t she
look thrilled to be wearing a Santa Hat?

So this holiday season, especially with all that happened this past year, I’m trying to change my outlook on things. Rather than be pessimistic, I’m trying to be cautiously optimistic. I’m taking what I’ve learned over the last year and trying to think positive. And although I’m still stressed (still have shopping to do) and overwhelmed (maybe those cards aren’t getting mailed this year) with what still needs to be done, I am going to remember that Christmas IS supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year.

Posted on

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.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

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.)

*
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.

*

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?

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

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.

Posted on

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.