Dear Fertile People

Dear Fertile,
My name is Frenchie, and I have taken it upon myself to write you this letter on behalf of myself and my other Infertile friends. We have a few requests for you, if you would please take a moment to consider the following:

1. Please, and I mean PUH-LEEAAASSSE (!) don't whine and moan about your pregnancy symptoms in front of your infertile friends. I know you are uncomfortable, and indeed you have every right to bitch about your swollen ankles and your aching back. But, keep it between you and your fellow fertile friends. Trust me, no matter how "fine" your Infertile friend might seem, she DOESN'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT. Consider the following: Though you are struggling with discomfort and even pain, it is nothing compared to the pain of infertility. Your infertile friend would gladly take on all the nausea and discomfort if it meant she could be pregnant and deliver a healthy baby. I know, I know, the extra weight of your pregnancy is making your plantar fasciitis bother you even more, and I know it sucks you have to wear that brace thingy on your foot, but your infertile friend would probably cut off her own leg below the knee and stick in a broom handle for a peg-leg and hobble around on that for the rest of her life if it meant she could be pregnant and deliver a healthy baby.

2. Please, PLEASE! If you MUST complain about your symptoms and problems, DO NOT say something like, "I just wish my body would function normally." Hey, all bets are off when it comes to being pregnant with regard to what weird things your body is going to do, and you signed up for that when you got knocked up. Deal. Again, I know it sucks, but keep those kinds of comments to yourself. I guarantee your infertile friend is thinking, "Well, your body functions normally enough to make a baby!" Trust me, she'd trade places with you in a fetal heartbeat.

3. If you have recently found yourself pregnant, don't try and hide it from your infertile friend, but be nice, and find a time when you are not at a party or some other gathering to give her the news. Do NOT under any circumstances, start musing about how easy it was to get pregnant, or what strong swimmers your husband must have. Such comments are dangerous, because they have been known to send Infertiles into psychotic fits. If you must talk about such things, make sure the room is clear of sharp objects.

4. Be supportive of your friend. Especially if she has 1. had a pregnancy loss (no matter how early in the pregnancy), 2. has recently gotten bad news on the type of infertility she and her partner are facing, or 3. has recently had a negative pregnancy test after a cycle of IVF or IUI. Treat these things with the same reverence and caring you would give her if she had 1. lost a "real" living child. Believe me, from the moment she got a positive pregnancy test, that child was very real and living. 2. had just found out about another serious medical crisis, such as cancer. Studies show the stress Infertiles deal with is the VERY SAME level as those dealing with life-threatening illnesses such as cancer. It is a very real life-crisis. 3. had just gone through a very expensive and risky procedure to potentially cure her life-threatening illness, and was told by the doctors that it didn't work.

5. Speaking of IVF and IUI, take TWO minutes to go on the internet and find out what some common lingo is in your friend's world. Really, you should know what an RE is. COME ON!

6. When you do spend time with your infertile friend, please understand, she may not want to hear about every other friend, co-worker, family member or acquaintance of yours that is ALSO pregnant. I know pregnancy is very much on your mind right now, but find SOMETHING ELSE to talk about, honestly. Every new pregnancy announcement is like a dagger in your infertile friend's gut.

Thank you for taking the time to consider these suggestions. If we work together, the relations between Infertiles and Fertiles can hopefully improve.

Yours,
Frenchie

Miss Negativity

I haven't posted in a while, and mostly it's because (same old story) I've been reeeeallly busy at work. But, there is another reason. I've been in a bit of a negative tailspin lately. I didn't want to bore you guys with all my negative pissin' and moanin'. But, here's a quick overview:

1. I can't stop comparing myself to other people.
And by other people, I mean other people who are fertile. My friend J. is due in September. After a few months of marriage, she fell pregnant, and, at age 36 is (thankfully) experiencing a healthy pregnancy with no issues. I don't know why, but lately, it's been bugging me a lot. And, I've been practicing avoidance. I keep meaning to call, but I don't. I keep meaning to make a date to get together with her, but I don't. I keep meaning to send her a package with all of Baby Boy's too small clothes, but I haven't. The thing that's really like a knife in the ribs to me? If any one could AFFORD fertility treatments, or private adoption, (or all of the above) it's J. She married a Google bazillionaire. But, I digress. My sister in law, K., is due next month. Number three. Enough said. There are lots of other pregnant people or those who have lots of bio kids. But, the list is too long.

2. I keep thinking about my miscarriage. Get over it, right? It was a year and a half ago. But, I keep thinking, that was my one shot. The ONE time sperm met egg (that we know) and I got to know the feeling of seeing two lines on the pee stick. And then it was gone.

3. I am so burned out right now with my job. Too many things here to discuss, but, let's just say: employee "issues", long hours, early mornings, needy clients, and... if you want something done right, then the owner of the company (me) better do it. UGH.

4. I look in the mirror, and, who the f#@%! is that old, harried, wrinkly, frumpy looking woman!? Depressing.

5. My ovaries. I'm obsessed. What can I do to dust them off and make them function?

Okay. So. I need to get out of this dreary dump. So, I'm formulating The Plan. As long as I have A Plan that I can work on, then at least I can feel like I'm doing something, instead of just circling around in the dumps. It will give me a focus--and somewhere to put all that negative energy, and hopefully take the edge off. Will hopefully make me more fun to be around. (I will create a separate post for the The Plan, next.)

Before I go, I would like to try and balance the negativity scales, with some gratitude. Very Oprah, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Here I go:

Things I am grateful for:

1. My son. Amazing. Beautiful. We definitely won the lottery. Love of my life. There are not enough words.

2. My husband. My best-friend. Endlessly patient with my ever changing moods. Pretty much a saint. Awesome dad.

3. My pets. Daisy, Max, (thank you God for helping him survive the pit-bull attack!), Molly. Unconditional love. Always.

4. My home. It is small. It needs work. I complain about it all the time. But it's ours. We actually own a home in the Bay Area. And, it's probably the place my son will have his first memories.

5. Even though I'm burned out right now--at least I have a career. I have something to be proud of. I gave birth to something--my little empire. And, a reason to get up every morning whether I like or not, has been a life saver (literally) during the really really dark days over the past couple of years. (Note: NOW my biggest reason to get up in the morning is my son, and I'd be happy to spend my days with him. But, you know what I mean about the job.)

Okay, well that's five for five. So, that's good. Must focus on the positives.

Sick

After weeks of running myself ragged, working my tail off, and generally burning the candle at both ends, my body has finally thrown in the towel. My body is rebelling--what started out this morning as a tickle in my throat has progressed to a full-blown sore throat (the kind that makes it hurt to swallow or speak) a throbbing headache, and a general "icky all over" feeling. Sure to follow tomorrow: stuffy/runny nose, and more of the head-in-a-fishbowl sort of experience, fever. Hopefully, it will peak at just a cold, and not turn into a full-on flu, or worse, something requiring antibiotics (sinus infection, strep throat). Of course, I am afraid to go near my son, because I don't want him to get sick. And this is really depressing to me, because, the biggest joy of my day is spending time with him. It's frustrating--beacause the reason I'm working so hard right now is for him--in a way. We are so unbelivably in debt from the loans we had to take and the money we spent out of pocket to facilitate our adoption, that I can't afford NOT to work my ass off this year. It makes me really angry, because, most fertile people don't have to go into huge debt to start a family. They just have sex. Which is free.

And, if we weren't so financially backwards right now, I'd not have to work as hard, run myself down, and go crazy. And, I'd get to spend time with my baby.

But, I digress. We are where we are. We have the situation we have. Of course, it was worth every single cent that we spent to adopt him. And he's worth working as hard as we have to to make it through this time in our lives, and rebuild financially, so that he has everything he needs. I'd walk over broken glass for my new little family. They (hubby and baby boy) are so precious to me.

So, of course, tomorrow, sick or not, I'll be back off to work. (And the nanny will be hangin' with baby boy, watching her Spanish soap operas, chillin' on the couch. Grrrrrr.)

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.