Spring

I can't say that I have ever been all that impressed by spring as a season. I imagine that is a result of growing up in Southern California where spring and summer (and much of fall and winter, for that matter) are pretty much similar temperatures. But since moving to the Middle, I've had a much greater interest in spring and the end of winter. And this year, I am especially longing for it to be spring. It has been a long, cold, bitter winter. I am so weary of the snow and the icy wind that sneaks its way under one's coat. The white Easter and the snopw forecatsed for tomorrow despite the start of April next week just depresses me.

This spring feels particularly momentous for me. This winter has been a dormant period not just for the cold ground but also my infertility journey. Although we give it to the old college try every month, we haven't had a treatment cycle since October. I feel like I have just been in waiting and spinning my wheles until my work allows for a break in action and my weight reaches the necessary loss for ivf. I know that summer will bring ivf and I need to call the RE's office and get on the schedule, but something stops me (other than those few stubborn pounds). There seems an inexplicable hold on my pursuing this next step until the winter has passed.

Team on the Road

Why You Should Donate to Team On the Road

The Stirrup Queen is walking to support the March of Dimes and all of their work on behalf of premature babies. Join her by lending some support- cheer on Team on the Road or make a donation. It doesn't have to be large. A few dollars can make a difference. If every one of the 1,200 IF blogs gave just $1, that would be $1,200. I challenge you to give up a latte or mocha for just one day and direct your $4 to support the March of Dimes and Team on the Road.

Not Willing to Let It Go And Something to Decide

This post is an explanation of what started my Easter weekend to put me in the self-pity mode.

I was lucky enough to spend most of Friday at the spa. For Christmas, DH had purchased me a package that included a facial, a massage, a pedicure, deep condition and blowout, and lunch. Every single one of the technicians (what is the proper term here?) asked me if I had children, but the one that got me was the conversation that took place during my pedicure.

I was sitting there zoning out with my feet in the bubbly water, when a woman sat down in the chair next to me. Apparently, she hadn't been in for a pedicure since before the birth of her eight-month-old. So, she and her pedicurist proceeded to chatter on incessantly about babies, specifically her baby. I guess, my dirty looks (since we were in the "quiet area") weren't evil enough. Picking up on their conversation (but obviously not my consternation) my pedicurist asked me if I had children. When I said no, she replied that I was smart. I can't even express how much I wanted to hit her. I just looked at her with the most disdainful expression I could muster and used my steely cross-examination voice to say, "It is not by choice." She just gasped out an awkward, "Oh."

I seem to have reached a point in this infertility journey that I am unwilling to say the "right" and easy thing and let people "off the hook" for their insensitive comments. I am not angry or "bitter" about it, just matter-of-fact. Infertility exists and I hate that no one ever talks about it or only discusses it in the shadows (usually in shame or fear). I resent the fertile assumption that one has control over the reproductive process. And I am no longer willing to breach the awkwardness and silence. Let 'em soak in their stupid comments.


And to add insult to injury, my regular stylist is pregnant. When I saw her in January, she told me about her first-ever IUI on her second month of Clomid. This was for child number 3, the first two involved no fertility issues. Of course, I figured it would work for her. And it has. And now she is showing. She is aware of our situation, but I just don't think I want to deal with her pregnant belly for my two-hour-plus appointments. So, I have to decide whether I am on the look out for a new stylist. And I have to decide fast because my roots are starting to show something awful.

Hold the pity

I received a call from a friend (we'll call her "U") today to wish us a Happy Easter. U is the one who was married in September 2006 (months after we started trying) and was pregnant immediately despite trying to avoid. Her little boy will be one in about six weeks. She knew that we had started trying in summer of 2006, but I haven't really talked with her about it because I just didn't need to hear her fertile response. She has never once asked how things were going (and we are getting close to two years now).

Today has been a particularly difficult reminder of our infertility. In addition to the ridiculous snow storm that made for a white Easter and eliminated any hope of wearing cute open-toed shoes (the one and only thing I was looking forward to today), church was the usual struggle of wall to wall families with small children and pregnant women spilling out all the pews. The, to add to my dismay over another childless holiday, U asks out of the blue, whether we were trying again to get pregnant. I asked her in response what she meant. She said that she figured we had stopped trying because of my work and wondered if we were going to or had started up again. I told her that we had not stopped trying and it was getting close to two years of that now. There was an interminably llllllooooonnnngggg pause. I refused to fill the awkward silence.

She said, "Oh, I didn't know." I replied, "Well, you never asked." Then, U begins to give me "advice" and asks have we considered "testing." I just cut her off and said we completed "testing" about a year ago and were looking at ivf this summer. Another silence. I could feel the pity emanating through the phone line. And then, she abruptly made an excuse to get off the phone, sending Easter wishes to DH.


I don't mind talking about our infertility, if asked. But damn, I can do without the pity.

Anyone want to put bets on her being pregnant with number 2?

My second thought

I received a save-the-date in the mail for a college friend who is getting married in August. My first thought was how happy I was for her. My second thought?
Do you think they'll have a baby before we do?

Dealing with the World: Unsung Lullabies, Chapter 9

The point of this chapter is to assist the infertile in how to get through the inevitable aches of the daily insensitivities and reminders of infertility. The authors point out that one can only protect herself so much. Unless one lives under a rock, there really is no way to avoid the onslaught of reminders. There is inevitably going to be the comments or experience that pit the infertiles, as the have-nots, against the haves. The authors advise that a remedy is to remember to own up to the feelings of anger, sadness, self-pity and acknowledge the normalcy of such feelings under the circumstances.

The authors also up self-talk as the solution to feeling bad about these encounters. Focusing on what one does have (intellect, career, etc.) is a positive reinforcement that infertility does not define one. But the thing is I don't feel inadequate by these experiences- I just feel saddened and left out and no amount of bolstering is going to change the circumstance. One helpful point that the authors address is preparing responses to the inevitable stinging remarks. As I come farther out of the infertility closet, I am finding these interactions a little easier in that I usually snap off a sarcastic remark. I find it difficult to let an "educational moment" slide. Unless DH is with me because he doesn't like to bring it up.

This chapter also delves into the topic of how much to tell one's family. We have been fairly upfront with our families since last summer (mostly as a result of finding out my cystic fibrosis carrier status) although I haven't been very upfront about the cause of our infertility with my parents. This chapter also helped to break a stalemate between DH and I about asking his parents for money to help finance ivf. The authors strongly encourage asking for help where there would not be strings attached. DH has strongly felt that we should ask his parents for financial help. They are wonderful people who are extraordinarily generous. And I know they could afford to help us. And they are thankfully not like my parents for whom money = strings. I just hate having to ask someone else for money. I know they wouldn't let us pay them back because that is just how they are. The books makes the same point that DH has made over and over that his parents have an investment in our children because that is an extension of their reproductive stories. So, on the advice of the book, I have to say I caved on this issue.

The authors briefly address how to deal with friends. I must admit that my solution to dealing with many of my friends is that those who are not understanding, I just don't really have time for right now. Dealing with infertility as it relates to work has been the most difficult. With the exception of one coworker, no one knows of our infertility and I plan to keep it that way.

The chapter ends with a section title that I want to whole-heartedly embrace "You are coping, even though it may not feel like it."

As you struggle to find your footing, please keep in mind that it's all right to laugh, or cry, or get angry; it's all right to feel all the crazy things you're feeling. Feeling one way in the morning and another in the evening is not only okay, it's to be expected. It's all right to hide when you need to, just as it's all right to reach out to others. You are not alone in this- although it often feels as if you are.

Keep reading about this chapter, here.

Three Years Ago Today

I promised and made a covenant before God and our family and friends to be loving and faithful, in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health.
Back then, I could never have imagined what those vows would mean and some of what we have experienced in the last three years. But today, I renew my pledge.