Wonderful Infertility Blog

I just came across this blog tonight, "Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed." The "What If" video made me bawl my eyes out, I still haven't finished it. The author, Keiko Zoll, writes a poignant, smart and humorous blog. Please check out the video if nothing else.

http://hannahweptsarahlaughed.blogspot.com/2010/04/what-if.html

Ship It Up Your Ass

I hate Brat. He just texted Husband to ask if he can have baby items shipped to our house instead of theirs to save on sales tax. REALLY?!

Now, I admit that Brat was never part of the conversations I had with his wife regarding trying to have a baby, so I cannot really blame him for his selfishness and insensitivity. I assumed that like I often do with Husband, Wife would share the conversations, and Brat would know how hard things have been. Clearly, she did not. This is something I am somewhat grateful for though-it means that either she was too drunk to remember or didn't pay attention because it didn't involve her. That means she doesn't remember me expressing my fears and frustrations about trying unsuccessfully to conceive.

This is happening on the tail end of a terrible week/end that resulted in me having an utter breakdown and Husband and I having the worst fight of our entire relationship. Last week I had a crisis of career, of life, of marriage, of reality. Wednesday morning we had a huge fight which stemmed oddly enough from bin Laden's death followed by the fact that Brat and Wife announced they are having a girl. Bin Laden's death reinforced the fact that I am not working my "dream" job-intelligence. Not that I would have been involved in the bin Laden situation, but it was a reminder that the job I'm doing now will never lead to a result as powerful or important as that. It re-ignited my career discontent, which then made me very angry. Then of course came the news of Baby Girl which was fitting. That was the final tip on my sanity scale and I went off the deep-end.

I don't remember what set off the argument Wednesday morning but it was full of resentment and anger. Husband did eventually make a good point, which was that I need to accept where I am. He was right. So I tried acceptance on for the day, and it made me both lighter and sadder. While at work I wrote the following:

Acceptance feels like defeat. Facing the truth and giving in hurts worse than the disappointment and anger I'm used to. So I accept defeat. Accept that my life is NOTHING that I wanted, and every decision has led to a worse situation. Accept nothing I wanted has happened as I wanted or imagined, and may in fact never happen at all. Now I have to figure out how to kill the resentment that threatens daily to undo it all. That crowds my mind and tightens around my throat. 

It's dramatic, I know, but it's how I was feeling. The rest of the week at work was great and I managed to stay positive.

Home life hasn't been great lately, and it's mostly my fault. Husband and I have been back home for almost one full year, and we're still struggling with all the same shit, except I have a job. The longer we're here and things are not improving (we're not pregnant, he's not working, I have no friends locally who even remotely understand what we're going through, etc.), the harder it is for me to not freak out. Disappointment, frustration, depression, anguish continue to build and I just don't know what to do anymore.

All week we tried to schedule Mother's Day activities with our mothers. My mother-in-law said that Husband had to work it out with Brat. Husband texted and called several times, but Brat never responded. Finally, Saturday afternoon Husband's dad said Brat and Wife would be going over there for breakfast. Husband said great, we'll come by in the evening for dinner then. We both aren't ready to see them after their very exciting news, that and because Brat couldn't be bothered to respond to Husband's calls and texts. I was so relieved we wouldn't have to spend the day with them.

Sunday we spent the afternoon with Husband's mother and father. We had a great time until the end. I had too much to drink and finally said something to my mother-in-law about Baby Girl. She was conspicuously not mentioned with the exception that the in-laws wanted the back room cleaned out to turn it into a nursery. The back room has served as storage for both Brat and Husband. As we were leaving I grabbed the last load of our items from that back-room-nursery-to-be and said to my mother-in-law "At least you can be happy you're having a granddaughter" and her response was strange, "Yes, I will keep it close to my heart." For some reason, that upset me. She's still not showing her true joy about it, and that is insulting. I don't want to hear about Baby Girl every second of the day, but c'mon, this is their first grandchild and they aren't even talking about it. Why is she holding back? It makes me very uncomfortable, it's almost worse that she doesn't talk about it.

Husband's family knows nothing about us seeing a fertility specialist. Mother-in-law only knows that we had been trying to conceive, but I have shared nothing with her in detail, and haven't even mentioned it in months.

Anyway, blame it on the wine, or on me slipping off my constant tightrope walk of sanity, her response set me off. I unloaded on Husband. Hours later when the fight was over, and we were both completely exhausted, with nothing resolved, we agreed that we have to start focusing on us and stop being so bitter and resentful of others.

It's been all of 15 hours since we came to that conclusion and I'm back to being bitter and resentful of Brat. That text he sent Husband wanting to ship baby stuff here was all it took. I already ran through a list of things I'd like to do when that baby stuff arrives here- beat it to hell and claim that's how it was delivered, burn it, give it away to someone in need and tell Brat that it never arrived. Those fantasies give me a little thrill, so does wanting to tell him to ship those items up his tight ass.

Insert This Camera Like a Tampon

Yesterday we had a pelvic ultrasound. This is one step in the process leading up to intra-uterine insemination (IUI). I was told to arrive with a full bladder, which I did. The very nice and funny ultrasound technician, Kim, informed me that first she would do a regular ultrasound, I would pull my pants down just a bit for her to have access to my tummy, after that, she would leave the room, let me undress from the waist down and we would do an internal ultrasound. I laughed thinking of course this will be more invasive than I thought. She smiled and said "They never tell women about that part, can't figure out why."

It was cool to see my uterus and ovaries up on the television screen as she performed the regular ultrasound. She explained what everything was, even though it didn't always help us really identify what she was talking about. Kim pointed out my uterus, which looks nothing like the drawings they show you, it was just a black oval which was dwarfed by my ever-growing bladder, and then my ovaries which were more dark ovals. She was even able to see the lining of my uterus, though it looked like everything else on the screen to both Husband and I. She made her measurements of all my lady parts and then explained that I needed to empty my bladder and when I returned, she would step out of the room and allow me to undress and get settled on the bed, with my bottom on top of a pelvis-tilting pillow which would allow for maximum visual access to my ovaries. Gratefully, I used the restroom and returned to find the pelvis-tilting pillow in place, and a sheet waiting to cover my lower half.

When Kim returned, she showed us the internal camera she would be using, covered in what was essentially a condom, and the tip was slathered with lubricant.  She handed it to me and instructed me to "insert the camera like you would a tampon." Now after all of the annual exams and cervical pre-cancer procedures I've had done over the years, I was not concerned with inserting a camera in the shape of a 16 inch long penis. It was more strange that Kim would be moving it around once I inserted it. Guess it's obvious here that I haven't used many dildos in my time-otherwise I would be perfectly comfortable with someone else directing a large phallic item, with their hand, that was inserted into my vagina.

It was painless initially. She found the right ovary (now my favorite of the two), it was easy to spot and there were 29 follicles, that was great to see. Then she had to dig around for a good shot of the left ovary, and that was increasingly uncomfortable. That damn ovary was hiding behind my uterus, I guess it's "shy." That ovary only had 15 follicles and she didn't have much to say about it. She finished up by measuring the blood flow and listening to the blood flow in each ovary.

Sadly she is not a physician and was therefore not allowed to discuss any findings. A physician would look at it, confer with my doctor, and then I will find out the results. Of course my doctor is on vacation for the next week (how dare she?!) so I will have to wait forever to find out if there is anything wrong. Hopefully not. Husband and I were just relieved to see that 1. I had two ovaries, 2. I had a uterus, and 3. there were no monsters hiding in my uterus which had been snatching up his very capable swimmers and preventing them from inseminating my eggs.

They should do this ultrasound for all women at a younger age so everyone can be educated on what our bodies look like. It seems that the world of medicine does not want women to be empowered with that knowledge.

Today is day 10 of my cycle and I took my first OPK for the month. It was negative, but that's alright. Hopefully I will ovulate this month and we will conceive. In the meantime, I'm going to have another mimosa.

Ovulation Elation!

Finally! A positive ovulation test today! Here's what's been happening:

Last month according to the OPK (ovulation predictor test kit) I never ovulated. I peed on those damn sticks for seven days, all while traveling in California and staying at other people's homes. It's like being on your period-you never want anyone to know, you don't want to leave any evidence around. Our first day at Husband's cousin home we hadn't had enough time to find a drugstore so we could buy more OPKs. That night Cousin took us the grocery store to grab items for dinner-I snuck away to find some tests with the intention of going through the line, paying for them, hiding them in my purse and then returning to the guys who were still shopping. Of course, this store didn't carry them. Concerned with maintaining privacy, I tried to come up with a reason to go the drugstore. Defeated, I asked Cousin if he would stop at a drugstore on the way home. "Why, what do you need?" Uhhhhh...."Just some stuff." Luckily he let it drop. He probably assumed I needed tampons, but that was better than having to explain that we are trying to conceive, and may be using your guest bed to get freaky in.

Anyway, because I had not ovulated my doctor had me go in for a blood test to test my progesterone levels which would indicate if an egg was released. I was supposed to go in on day 21, but got my days mixed up and went in on day 20. The results from day 20 showed ovulation had occurred, but when I went back on the correct day, the results showed a much lower number. Both test results caused me to panic-if I had in fact ovulated, Husband and I may not have had sex at the right time since I had no idea it had occurred.

I emailed my doctor:
I just reviewed the progesterone test results and have a few questions. The early test taken on March 29th (day 20 of my cycle) indicates an ovulatory cycle, but the one taken on March 31st (day 22 of my cycle) shows a much lower number. 

All of my home ovulation predictor test kits were negative this month. Is it possible to still ovulate without those showing the Lh surge? Was the result on the early test skewed because it was before day 22? If I did ovulate, what is the approximate window it could have happened? I'm trying to figure out if the last time we had intercourse would have possibly happened during the ovulation window. 

My doctor's response literally said good question, the date of expected ovulation is a guess (A GUESS???!!!!) and she couldn't be certain I had in fact released an egg, nor could she explain why the OPKs may not have detected the Lh surge.

So here we are, with a positive ovulation test and trying for a baby. Next month if I am not pregnant, we will start taking Clomid which will induce my ovaries to both release eggs. We do that for two cycles, then we try it with Clomid and Intrauterine Insemination (IUI). But we have to keep our Clomid use to a minimum, or it starts menopause. Lovely.

Summary: Doctor's don't really know anything. My body seems to be on its own schedule. I hate traveling and peeing on OPKs. None of this matters if we conceive.

Cooking with Grandma

I did not get to know my grandmother very well. She always seemed more like a monument to appreciate than a person to interact with. It wasn't until I met Husband that I actually began to spend time with her, and started to build a relationship with her. The disconnect is partially because of my insecurity and fear, and partially because of my mother.

When she passed last year, my mom and her siblings asked all of us grandkids what we wanted. Honestly, it's a horrific process to pick through someone's belongings and decide what you want. As if these material goods really have a piece of her in them. It makes one feel like a vulture picking at the remains, scavenging for a tasty morsel. I'm still embarrassed that my older sister and I actually looked through things to choose, and that I actually wanted something of hers. My rationalization is that the items I wanted are of no monetary value.

Most of my memories with Grandma were playing go-fish at the breakfast bar and hanging out in the kitchen. The main high points of her kitchen were the avocado green 70's era cookie jar filled with Archway molasses cookies and the awesome mix of cereal she always kept in the cupboards above the stove. Beyond that however, were a few little items that I believed were iconic and necessary for a good mother's kitchen: brightly colored Pyrex mixing bowls, aluminum loaf pans and the Boonton melamine cereal bowls that we ate cereal out of, and Granddad had his ice cream and peaches in every afternoon.

It may sound nuts, I admit it, but anything Husband and I make using Grandma's items, always turn out. The homemade bread, lemon pound cake, meatloaf, etc., salsa and salads we make in the colored Pyrex bowls, all turn out delicious. It makes me feel like she's here with me when I use the items from her kitchen. Even though we never cooked together, and it took me until my late 20s to really spend time with her, her presence is absolutely with me in the kitchen.

My Grandmother was nothing like I thought she was. Due to my mother's own insecurities and regrets, she unknowingly prevented my younger sister and I from forming any real attachment to Grandma. Whenever Grandma and Granddad would visit, which in my memory was only twice, Mom would be in a tizzy for days cleaning her already clean and tidy home, fussing and claiming that everything had to be just right for Grandma. Not only that, but there were alot of events that happened in our immediate family that we were told to keep secret, be sure Grandma and Granddad never learned of what happened. "Don't tell them I smoke" she said. "Don't tell them I bought a new car", or that "your stepdad left." In mom's actions she made us feel that nothing was good enough for Grandma, that Grandma was a judgmental and critical woman. It's the kind of impression that sticks with a young girl, and as I grew up and made enormous mistakes of my own, I assumed Grandma was judging me. It took me too long to realize that Grandma was never judgmental, and she loved all of us. She was in pain when we suffered, when we faltered. She was straight forward, honest, had an amazing sense of humor, but was very loving. Even though they claim wisdom comes with age, my resentment and bitterness grows as I discover more truth about life. Shameful as it is, I am still blaming my mother for my lack of a relationship with my Grandmother. No, it's not her fault that I didn't have a close relationship with Grandma, but it's her behavior around Grandma that prevented me from being comfortable with her.

Through cooking with Grandma's bowls and bakeware, I feel like I'm building a relationship with her, repairing all the crap my mom and I built up with Grandma over the years. This way I get to share a pure and honest experience with the memory of my grandma, the woman she really was.

On a related note, a woman at work has a tattoo on her foot- it is a flower with "Gram" scrolled above. It is her memorial for her grandmother. She was telling me how close she was with her grandmother, they communicated on a daily basis, etc. It really touched me. I want to be that kind of grandmother-the kind that is a friend and honored, respected matriarch. A grandmother that is close with her grandkids, who has a warm, welcoming home and heart, but who is strong and respected. What a wonderful role to have, and to me, is the very definition of success.

Crazy

I think its official. I've lost my mind to the so called biological clock. I have become that cliche. It's getting worse, and without me even trying. We are out and I see families with one three year old, then a two year old and a pregnant mom, I think how greedy they are. Ugh, when did I become so pathetic?! As if these families having more than one kid somehow has anything to do with us not having one. It's flat out ridiculous and ugly.

Tonight we visited with our friends who had their son two weeks ago. It was the first time we've seen them since their ordeal, and it was alright. They were actually interested in our life, and what we've been up to- the conversation was not just about their baby. We kept it brief, these are exhausted parents who simply needed a short visit and a hot meal made for them. It is easy to be with them because they have never been self-centered, and they are grateful for the blessing of their son, despite the fact his birth was nothing like they planned. Just like the parents of our godchild, they had planned a natural birth which turned into a c-section, only this time it was four weeks early. Luckily everyone is doing well, and learning to adjust to unplanned c-section.

This mom we visited today was my movie buddy. Now I've lost her to the baby, which has brought her closer to the parents of our godchild, and I feel even more isolated. Even if we get pregnant soon, the last thing I want is advice from all these women who got the privilege of having a child before we did. Who think they know what is right, good, and who are full of ideas to share, when all I want is to experience this joy alone with Husband. To have something private and wonderful that belongs to just us. Now, if it ever happens, it will not be just us. It will be infected with everyone else's experiences, their advice and commentary.

First Meeting, Rambling Post

Ahhhh, it's over. We had our first encounter with The Brat and Wife tonight since they told us they were pregnant. As I expected, it was uneventful, as it should be. There was no change in the  way those two behaved-they were not affectionate with one another, they were not joyful, they were not more smug than normal. We met a bunch of family for pizza tonight. We got to the restaurant at the same time as The Brat and Wife did. I walked right up and hugged them, asked how she was feeling, said congratulations to The Brat. Wife of course is sick. She is always sick. The sorority sister who drinks then throws up-that's her, still. Every time we are at the beach house together, she drinks then pukes all night, and complains in the morning. Now at 16 weeks, she is showing, because she is so thin, and has had cold after cold, which has now progressed to a sinus infection.

It was good that the four of us were together alone first. It gave me time to gauge the situation. I was very shocked that they were not more affectionate. I was pleased that they didn't bring up the pregnancy-I did, as is my way. I'd rather just rather face the issue head on, then wait until it gets brought up, with the heavy weight of it all. I inquired about nursery themes, morning sickness, names, hospital of delivery, etc. It was a natural conversation, much of which I was in charge of because despite her being a nurse, I knew more about it because of all the experience with friends and family I've had. Yes, that pleases me.

In summary-I'm relieved there was nothing awkward. She no longer makes statements such as "you just have to wait until I'm ready then we'll both have kids," she wasn't particularly excited or interested in discussing the baby. Again, the lack of affection between Brat and Wife surprised me. If it was Michael and I, I'd be upset if he wasn't holding my hand, gingerly and sweetly touching my swollen belly, kissing my cheek, etc. If we get the blessing of being pregnant, I don't think we'd be sickly sweet, but I believe it would be quite obvious that we were thrilled to be so. But that is just one more difference between us as couples.

I managed to keep my mouth shut about anything negative-until the end. While we were outside with my husband's mother waiting for the others to close their tabs, she mentioned The Brat and Wife's dog. This dog is an untrained, undisciplined, spoiled purse-dog, that shits and pisses on everything while biting everyone. My husband asked his mother what is going to happen to the dog and she replied that she'll probably end up with it. I responded "you can't have grandchildren at your house then if she's there." Husband's mother commented that dogs just know, have a way of knowing/understanding the children belong to their family, but this dog is a terror and there is no way our kids would ever be around that bitch. Husband's mother also said, "Well, we can't just throw her away."

Husband said to me yesterday that we need to stop being so bitter and envious and start appreciating what we have. He said that he had found the woman of his dreams, and at one point, that's all he ever wanted. It's all he really needs. The craziest thing is that he means this, how lucky am I? It's true that we are so fortunate to have found one another, and we really have a fantastic relationship. That alone should be enough. However, we always want more.

Unrelated to tonight- last night our friends came over with their baby, and it was a lovely visit.  Toward the end of night, and to my surprise, they asked us to be godparents to their baby. Instantly, before she even finished asking I was in tears.  Simply being asked to be their son's godparent is amazing. It was not something I expected- I am not Catholic, and my husband is not a practicing Catholic, though he was baptized as one. Our friend assured me that she wasn't concerned about the fact that we haven't been attending mass, she knew we would start soon. The next morning I spent some time looking at churches in the area trying to find the right one for Husband and I to join. The role of godparent is one that I take seriously, so I need to be educated in the church in order to best support the kid throughout his experience within the Catholic church.

Sitting here now I look forward to when our calendar is full of dates to see our nieces, nephews, god children and close friend's kids in school plays, graduations, holiday pageants and birthday parties. What a blessing to be included in all of their lives.