Stuff and Things

I'm still here. I've just been really in my head lately. You might say on the verge of being depressed, but waaayy too busy to be depressed. I know I sound like a broken record, but I'm totally drowning with everything on my plate right now. Right now it's past midnight and I am wide awake with a churning stomach and a busy brain, just stressing out over all the loose ends and to-do's in my world right now.

I've been ruminating over a lot of things. Things I'm not ready to write about, but will, soon.

I actually got an estimate from Merry Maids today. Despite the fact that my house is a minuscule 760 square feet or so, I can't seem to keep it all clean. And, it's expensive. I dunno, maybe it's worth any amount of money at this point just to take one thing off my mental to-do list.

Alone on Infertility Island, or, What's So Wrong With This Island, Anyway?

I am feeling very melancholy, as my one and only Infertile Friend has set sail away from the Island, happily waving goodbye to me from her lovely raft. After her first IVF attempt, she is blissfully pregnant...has seen the heartbeat (which I never got to you might remember, from my one and only pregnancy) and is already starting to "complain" about her morning sickness. Or as she calls it, "all day sickness." Before I go any further down self-pity lane, please let me say that I am really and truly happy for her. Of any of the many, many people I know who are pregnant right now, or who are new moms, she deserves it (in my Infertile eyes) more than anyone. She is a dear, sweet, loving person, who will make an awesome mother. She and her husband have fought long and hard for this, and I honestly do wish them the best. Okay? I'm not a total A-Hole. It's just that, now that she's made it off the island, I feel so, so alone. Granted, I am here on the island with my own wonderful son, Baby Boy (aka World's Cutest Baby). And, I am so in love with this little guy, and so grateful that he is here with me. However, what many people don't understand is, adoption doesn't "cure" infertility. It doesn't totally erase the feelings of 1.Longing. Longing for that long-sough-after, long-wished-for pregnancy. The longing to feel life growing inside you, to know that you are bringing life into the world from your own desire for children, your love of your partner, and the strength of your own bodies. 2. Loneliness. The feelings of loneliness when it doesn't work, you finally admit that your body doesn't work like everyone else's (and every one else around you is working the baby-making thing overtime). The loneliness of feeling like a freak-damaged goods, inferior. Whatever you want to call it. The loneliness of not being part of "The Club." Even though you may finally be a parent, you'll never be part of that elite club of women who did it all. Conception, morning sickness, the big-belly waddle, back pain, labor, delivery, etc., and who will always have a genetic connection to their children. Nothing could make me love my son anymore than I do, but how do I explain to a Fertile Person that it kills me that I can't claim any credit whatsoever for how adorable he is, other than the clothes I chose to dress him in? That his cute nose, his red hair, his gorgeous eyes, his beautiful smile--all those things he got from someone else. 3. Despair. Despair because time is running out. Each day, each week, each month and each year, our chances get a little slimmer that a miracle could still happen. That we one day might be granted access to The Club. 4. Jealousy. Sorry, but it's hard not to be jealous of that 20-something pushing the stroller down the street, with her big, swelling pregnant belly signaling she's got another one on the way. And jealousy brings us back to Loneliness--and 5. Isolation. Because as each and every one of our friends has walked past the velvet rope--has gained admittance into The Club, we're left out in the cold holding an out-dated, wrinkled, wet ticket. And, even though our friends pop their heads out once in a while to see how we're doing, the jealousy and despair and loneliness we have been feeling so long drives such a wedge between us, that we can't be bothered to say much. So, they give up, and go back inside with the other Clubbers.

There seems to be a never-ending swell of new friends and family members announcing their pregnancies, or babies being born. It gets a little bit easier as time goes by, but not by a whole lot. People assume now that I have Baby Boy I am happy to hear the news and join in the celebration. They treat me like an "honorary" member of the club. Which, frankly, makes me feel weird. I want to be treated like one of them, but I know I'm not. So, I feel stupid. Like the geeky tag-along friend of the popular girl, who convinces her other popular friends to be nice to once in a while. But really, they're just waiting for her to walk away so they can all laugh and make fun of her clothes/hair/glasses/whatever. That's me. Poor Frenchie, it's so cute, that she is all acting like a Mother now because she has that baby. But we all know she had to BUY her way into the club. It's not a Full Membership. It has restricted access.

So, I wish I could just be happy where I am. Alone on the Island. Well, not really alone, because I have my gorgeous son. But alone in the Infertility thing. I am realizing that since I have no control over what cards I have been dealt, the real pain comes from wanting different cards. If I could just be happy with what I have, and where I am, then, why should I care if other people's cards look different? The anguish comes from imagining the life I wish I had, instead of appreciating the life I do have. Maybe I am just not evolved enough. The little Buddah inside my head tells me to live in the Now. But right now, I am crying, trying to figure out what could possibly, right now, take away a little bit of the pain.

No Rest For the Weary

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. The truth is I feel like I'm drowning. Work, work, work and more work. I can't complain. I mean, I've spent yeeears building my little empire. And, hard work, and lots of it, has never scared me. But now, with baby boy (and lots of sleep deprivation) things are different. I still care about my business. I still want to give it my "all." But, I have more important things on my plate right now. And I'm tiiiired. Really tired. Anyway, I'm having a hard time keeping up with all the work I need to do. And, when I'm not working, I'd rather spend time with baby boy and Mister than to sit around blogging. If I could develop a way of writing posts straight from my head to the computer (without any of the pesky typing) then I'd have hundreds of posts under my belt. I do think about posts I'd like to write--and I do write them. IN MY MIND. I "write" them in the van on my way to the flower market at 4:00 a.m.. I "write" them driving to and from events, in between client meetings, during middle-of-the-night diaper changes and feedings. I "write" them when I'm trying to cram in a load of laundry before I have to run off to work, while I'm tending to my sick cat (he's much better, by the way--thanks for asking Tiff) and I write them as I'm eating my Kashi frozen entree dinner. (I haven't cooked an actual meal since we arrived home with Baby Boy).

And, I'm behind on proposals, bookkeeping, and a myriad of other duties that I should be on top of if I want to keep my business running smoothly.

Drowning.

But I'm not complaining!! :0)

The truth of the matter is, I love my job, but if I had the choice right now, I wouldn't work. I would stay home with Baby Boy. I would actually CLEAN the house. I'd prepare nutritious meals. I'd take better care of myself and work on bolstering my fertility. I'd take better care of my poor husband.

But, that is not an option. We need my income. And, I can't let the business lapse. Because, I know that as much as I want to stay home right now, I also know that after a couple of years, I'd go stark raving mad if I couldn't go back to work, at least part-time. And, if the business isn't there to go back to, I don't know what I would do. I'm not really qualified to do anything else.

And, the other truth is, that I'm really proud of my little empire.

Is that so wrong?

Urban Myths and Old Wives' Tales

Any one who has gone through infertility has heard them. They range from pure legend to people's personal anecdotes. I'm not talking about the usual assvice we Infertiles could recite in our sleep--(say it with me ladies!): "Just Relax!/You just need a vacation!/Just get drunk and go for it!/As soon as you stop thinking about it it will happen!" No, I'm talking about the even more sinister stories that friends and families tell you, that early on in your infertility struggles might have given you hope, but now, just make you want to slice your ears off. They fall into a few different categories:

On Trying to Conceive you might have heard this one: "Oh, I had a friend who tried for yeeeaars to get pregnant. She and her husband went to doctors, they couldn't find anything wrong, but still, no baby. Finally, they tried IVF, still it didn't work. Finally, one day, they decided to quit trying. They said, 'I guess God does not want us to be parents.' They made plans to (fill in the blank: go back to school for a Masters, travel, move to Siberia, whatever) and then, BOOM! they found out they were pregnant that same month."

This is a hard one for us Infertiles, for many reasons. One, because we're so damned JEALOUS of whomever that friend of yours is, we want to scream. Two, because we fear it WON'T happen for us, and three, because we hope it WILL. I am particularly tetchy to this one because this type of urban legend has roots in my very own family. My mother, no less. With me. Go figure. After marrying my father at the tender age of 20, my mother discovered she was pregnant right away, with my sister, Katie. Katie was the light of their lives, and they wanted more children. Sadly, they struggled for many years, and my mother suffered two miscarriages. Finally, well into her thirties, with my sister a senior in high school, my mother started making alternate plans for the rest of her life: She had let go the very idea of having any more children, and was looking forward to the freedom she was about to have with my sister off to college. My mother decided she would go back to work as a teacher, and maybe even go back to school. She spent some time abroad teaching, and was really enjoying it. Though still married to my father, the marriage was shaky, and my mother was trying to sort out what to do next. During a hiatus from her teaching position, and home with my father and my sister, she and my dad must have found some common ground, because, well, I came along 9 months later. And my mother's plans for the next several years were put back on the back burner. At 38, my mother had no idea, thought, hope, or incling that she would become pregnant. But, she did. So, I'm glad, I suppose, cuz, hey--I'm here. But, it's kind of awful. I think my mother still believes, despite my explanation of my bad ovaries and sickly eggs, that I, too, will have a miracle 'surprise' pregnancy any day now. She believes, like it happened for her, it will happen for me. I have to keep reminding her that it very likely will not, and I have to keep convincing myself it won't, either. Because the hope is too painful.

On Miscarriage one might hear this one: (The following is an actual story told to me by a {pregnant at the time-ugh!} friend): "I'm so sorry you had a miscarriage, but, my sister-in-law had a miscarriage several months ago, and had to have a D&C. Several weeks later, she was feeling really tired and sickly, and she was convinced that somehow they had botched the surgery and she had some sort of infection that was making her sick. She called the doctor's office and read them the riot act--sure that they had not taken good care with her. They doctor told her to come in for an examination. Well, turns out, SHE WAS PREGNANT! The doctor scolded her for having sex too soon after her surgery (but hey, she and her husband 'just got drunk one night and went for it') but it didn't matter--she was already 3 weeks along. Now she's due any day, and, guess what? She's having twins!!!!"

I heard this one, along with many similar stories, right after my miscarriage. I heard so many of these tales that I truly believed I would become pregnant again immediately. Well, over a year later, I have not gotten pregnant. Not even close. So much for that one.

And, on Infertility and Adoption, you might hear something that sounds like: "I know this couple. They tried for yeeeeaars to have kids, with no luck. So, finally, they decided to adopt. Wouldn't you know it, less than one month after bringing their son home, they found out they were pregnant! Now they have a (adopted) nine-month-old and are expecting their second child any day now! Boy, are they going to have their hands full, ha, ha."

Okay, so this one hits especially close to home as well. This urban legend is at the core of my husband's family lore. Absolutely true story. My mother and father-in-law were trying to get pregnant for years with no luck. The doctors couldn't find anything wrong (and of course this was in the late 60's/early 70's so there weren't really any infertility treatments as we now know them). So, they decided to adopt. Well, they were lucky enough to adopt Mister, my husband (hey, I'm biased). And of course, (you know how the rest of the story goes) my mother-in-law discovered a few weeks later that she was pregnant. So, Mister and his brother are 10 months apart. A couple of years later my mother and father-in-law welcomed a third child, my sister-in-law. My mother-in-law jokingly says all the time, "Oh, our first child (meaning Mister) was so eeeeasy. If M~~~ (their bio son) had been our first, we probably would not have had any more children, ha ha ha."

This is so hard. First of all, because the decision to adopt should NOT be because you hope it will help you get pregnant. That is just twisted. It's totally unfair to the innocent child you will be adopting. I have actually had very (normally) sensitive friends say to me, "Why don't you just adopt--then you will get pregnant!?" COME ON!!

In a way, I feel like I am sinking under the weight of these home-grown family legends. Both my mother's and Mister's mother's. I wonder if everyone is just sitting around waiting for me to fulfill some sort of pregnancy prophecy. Or, maybe I'm just paranoid. But, either way: We've had baby boy for 2 months, and I'm not running off to the store to buy any pregnancy tests or anything. (Of course, we're not even TRYING at this point, but that's another post).

I know people mean well when they whip out these stories. Somehow they feel like the power of the stories will (I don't know?) 1. give us hope. 2. ease our pain. 3. come true. In a way, it's sweet: They want these myths to become our truths. I know our friends and family hurt to see us hurting. They mean well. They just don't understand how hard it is to have these stories and anecdotes circulating and creaking around in an Infertile brain. For me, every year closer I get to the age my mother was when she had me, the more I lose what little hope I'm still holding on to that it might happen for me, too. Each month that passed after my miscarriage without another pregnancy made me more and more furious. We are so desperate for anything to give us hope (or at least I was) that we cling to these stories (even while dismissing them outwardly). It's true. We can't help it. (Or at least I can't help it. I guess I should just speak for myself, here.)

I guess I'm myth-proof. If an urban legend regarding pregnancy exists, it is sure not to come true with me.

Stay tuned for Part Two of this post, titled: The Stupid Things People Say to You When You Adopt.

M-Day

Today is the day that infertile women meet with some (or a lot of) dread. Even though, officially, I am celebrating my first Mother's Day, I am acutely aware of all my infertile friends out there (those whom I know personally, and those I don't know) who are not celebrating so much. I remember last Mother's Day, which was one short month after my miscarriage, and how incredibly hard it was. And, how, even now, one year later, the memory stings. And, though I know I should be celebrating--(and I am)--there is a part of me that still feels a blush of sadness.

There is a part of me that can't help feeling a little bit like an "impostor". I jokingly (and sort of not jokingly) said to Mister earlier today, that I'm really not a "mother" yet--that actually, I am still (as far as the laws of this state are concerned) baby boy's "legal guardian." So, is there a Legal Guardian's Day? (The adoption won't be officially official until we complete our 4 post-placement visits with our social worker, and the courts have processed all the remaining paperwork and issue us baby boy's "new" birth certificate. But, let's not split hairs. I am his mother, and it is amazing. And surreal.

So, I am thinking of all my infertile sisters out there who so desperately want to become mothers, and who are working very hard, and enduring so much to make it happen. To them, I want to say this. You are Mothers. Though you are not yet holding your baby in your arms, you know with every cell in your body that there is a soul waiting to become your child. And you love that child so much already, that you are doing everything in your power (IF treatments, the maze of international or domestic adoption, and/or the always fun "natural" path: acupuncture, herbs, special diets, standing on your head, etc.,-- or all of the above) along with lots and lots of prayer/creative visualization/voodoo, to bring your baby into your life. You are already mothers to your children, doing what a mother does: fighting for your children; caring, loving and wanting them. And, one way or another, we will all meet our children one day. My son lies a few feet away from me--and I am gearing up to start fighting for his little brother or sister, whom I know wants to join our family.

So please, my dear Mothers-in-Waiting. Love yourselves today. Though it hurts to feel like you're not included in today's celebration, please find a way, something small, something personal, to celebrate. Even if it feels stupid. Celebrate the love and dedication in your hearts to the children who will be so lucky to one day meet you and call you Mother.

Big hugs everyone.

p.s. I am sorry--I started this blog yesterday--but was interrupted (ironically) by the frequent phone calls from friends and family, who wanted to wish me a "Happy Mother's Day." Wow.

Cat-tastrophe!

I don't know how many of you out there are 'cat people'. I've always loved cats, but I have NEVER had a cat as cool as my cat, Max. I have had him (and his sister, Molly) for 13 years. These cats have been with me through so much: one bad marriage + divorce, about 50 moves, living in my flower shop when I couldn't find a place to live that I could afford that would accept pets (it was the Dot-Com boom, people, and this was in Marin County), and so many other things. Not only have they dutifully put up with all my ups and downs over the last 13 years--they have been a never ending source of love, acceptance and affection. And, they're just awesome cats! Max will come when you call him (I think he thinks he's a dog). And he speaks. He's just got such a great "personality". Ok, I'll stop. You get the picture. I love this damned cat.

On Tuesday, after being cooped up in the house for 2 days in a row with baby boy, I asked Mister if we could go out to dinner at one of our fine local chain restaurants. Max, who was sleeping peacefully on the couch, was scooped up and tossed outside. Well, I totally regret that moment in time. I wish we would have stayed home. Because, when we got back, we found out from our neighbor that something "bad" had happened to our cat. She thought he had been hit by a car. She found him in the neighbor's yard next to her. But now, no one knew where Max was. Luckily, I found him, bleeding and barely breathing in the hydrangea bushes. AGHHHH!!

We rushed him to the emergency pet hospital. No, he was not hit by a car. He was mauled by a dog. I suspect my neighbor's dog. The one who "found" him, supposedly, in another yard. Hmmm. Oh, did I mention she has a pit bull? Kay.

They were able to stabilize Max at the emergency place. The next day we picked him up and took him to our regular vet. He went through 4 hours of surgery, with two vets working on him. 2 broken ribs, broken sternum, pierced abdominal and chest cavities, bruised liver, lots of tissue and muscle damage. Apparently, the dog took a hold of him, and SHOOK.

Well, call my cat the 6-million-dollar-cat. (Almost). But they did rebuild him. It looks like he will survive. We were finally able to bring him home on Saturday. We have to keep him confined in a large crate, and keep him sedated. I am giving him meds twice a day, and syringe feeding him to make sure he is getting enough nutrients.

I think that might have been his 9th life. So, for now, he will be an indoor-only cat.

I have just been so sick and distraught over this. It's been a rough week.

Pray for Max!!

Baby Shower for an Infertile Woman

Today I had my first ever baby shower--in my honor. A friend of mine, a fellow Infertile, threw me this lovely party. It was a very civilized affair at a tea room not far from where I live. Now, I used to be a person with A LOT of friends. But, aside from myself (and baby boy) and my friend, B., the host, only 3 people showed up. The friends who did show were either fellow Infertiles or those with no kids and not yet ttc (not married or just not 'there' yet). There are a few reasons for all of this, as I see it:

1. I have totally isolated myself over the past couple of years during my Infertility struggles. By either just being too depressed to socialize, or just not being able to "deal" with seeing all my Fertile friends (and their babies and/or pregnant bellies) I have lost touch with a lot of really great people.

2. Some friends who have been alienated felt hurt by finding out about my adoption through an invitation they received in the mail, and so, I guess, decided to sit this one out.

3. Some friends probably feel that since I have not been able to engage in THEIR lives by attending their baby showers, kids' birthday parties, etc., over the past couple of years, why should they come to mine?

4. Most of the ladies present today are folks I in one way or another met through my work. Which means, I spend more time working than doing anything else. What can I say? I like my job, my business is successful, and it has also been a GREAT diversion these past few years. Also, my job has provided a good excuse for not attending all those baby showers/birthday parties/etc.. (I work in the event business, so I work A LOT of weekends!)

5. There was a horrific accident on the Bay Bridge this morning which F***ed up traffic and prevented one of my friends from the City from coming out to the hinterlands where I now live.

6. And, there were some friends, who I have totally lost touch with--and I was just too embarrassed to even invite them. Friends who have been very busy having babies, that I have just dropped all contact with, since we got the BAD NEWS last August. I never sent them baby gifts, or cards, or even picked up the phone when I knew it was time for their babies to arrive. Let alone pick up the phone and tell them about all my struggles.

So, I am I hurt by the low turn-out? I'm not sure. I guess it's not really fair to be mad at people for not coming to my fete when I have been totally out of touch with them (or very nearly so) or have just been a complete flake/weirdo/headcase in general for 3 years. There is this thing called reciprocation. What you put out comes back to you. So, I am getting back what I have put out. But, on the other hand, I don't feel guilty. I feel badly--I wish it were different. I wish I were the type of person who could totally overcome her negative feelings and attend every friend's baby shower with gusto and big smiles. But I'm not. I'm a fragile, envious, hurt Infertile. And I needed to self-protect. So I am neither mad at my friends for not showing up to my party, nor am I mad at myself for making it that way through my actions. I forgive myself. I hope, in time, my Fertile friends will forgive me as well.

I am, however, deeply touched and amazed by the generosity of people like my friend B.~ who threw me this party. In the midst of her own struggles with IF. In the throes of another IVF cycle and injections, mood-swings, hormones, yadda yadda. She is really, truly so happy for me and wanted to do this for me. So, no matter how jealous (beacause I am obviously evil) I might be (as well as extremely happy) when an IVF takes, and she gets pregnant, (and I know it will happen) I am definitely showing up and attending HER baby shower. We fertility-challenged gals got to stick together.