Where Did the Time Go...

I can’t believe it has been over a week since my last post.  Time is FLYING by.  Tomorrow, I am officially 25 weeks pregnant and things are so different now than they were just a few weeks ago. 

I’ve settled into working from home and have finally reached an acceptable level of productivity.  Unfortunately, my labor union voted down our contract and, thus, I am potentially on the chopping block at work.  3,500 state employees are scheduled to be laid off.  Many have already received their notices and are anticipating being unemployed by the middle of this month.  There are 27 positions being cut from my agency.  Given my relative lack of seniority, I was quite certain I would be one of the 27 to go.  But, (knock on wood) I have not yet received a notice and am praying quite fervently that I won’t get one in the coming days…or weeks…or months.  I can’t imagine enduring the stress of losing my job at this point in my pregnancy, not to mention how “fun” it would be to try to find a new job as I waddle around and explain to prospective employers that they should hire me... just in time for me to go on maternity leave.  The Prince and I also really can’t afford to pay our bills without my income.  I have no control over the situation.  I can’t magically make myself have more seniority.  So I have to endure this frustrated, helpless feeling that I’ve experienced so many times before, though in a different context.  On the upside, I survived infertility.  Unemployment is a joke by comparison.

On a more cheery note, my appetite is back (in full force).  I still have a problem with my eyes being bigger than my stomach and my brain being completely mistaken about what my stomach wants.  For example, I went to the Taco Bell drive through tonight (gross…I know) and ordered $10 worth of food…for myself.  After a few bites I realized Taco Bell wasn’t what I wanted, so the dogs got a little Mexican feast.  After much experimenting, I found that Ramen noodles were what I actually wanted (I know…equally gross), so I made 2 packages.  After a few bites, I was full.  The pugs are happy about my new found finicky eating habits.  For them, this is a happy turn of events…but their vet likely will not be happy with the “pregnancy” weight they’ve put on.  My scale is starting to acknowledge the return of my appetite, but I am still down over 15 pounds from when I started the pregnancy, and I only have 13 1/2 weeks before my anticipated delivery date, so I’m not fretting just yet.

In addition to my appetite and weight, my energy has also returned, to some extent (although I am still tired a lot and still have to take a short nap most days). Unfortunately, the extra energy has not translated into motivation to get anything done.  Today I was thinking that what I feel right now is sort of like depression, without the sadness.  It isn’t a matter of lack of will power or an issue with procrastination that is keeping me from getting off the couch.  I simply can’t do it.  I'm content not to and miserable when I try to.  When I try to tackle some housecleaning or chores, I regret it…emotionally and physically.  Even light grocery shopping causes me to have cramps and spotting (sorry…TMI), though the blood is old blood and the doctor says that it is probably just from my adhesions and endometriosis getting irritated (TMI x 2).  I am watching my to-do list get longer and longer while I rest on the couch and do things that require nothing more than typing on my laptop (ebay’s baby section and I have become far too familiar with one another in the last couple of weeks).  I’ve decided to try to avoid feeling guilty about listening to my body and my intuition, so I am labeling what I am feeling as “nesting instinct.”  I’m not sure what “nesting instinct” actually is, but it seems to me that laying around, hatching a baby is what I am doing… so my behavior might qualify as “nesting.”  On days that I feel like doing more…I do.  But for now, I’m going to just trust myself about what level of activity is right for me.

A final thing that has drastically changed recently is the baby’s movements.  He is a powerful little guy and I can distinguish a head from a foot now.  I can see his movements from the outside of my belly, and The Prince and his mother have both been able to feel the baby kicking on multiple occasions (it just never gets old).  Sometimes, the baby pushes himself into a weird spot in my tummy, and I will get very uncomfortable as I see a little butt (or a head?) sticking out of my side.  Usually, if I just gently rub the area of the bump and the area around the bump, he’ll move for me.  Sometimes, I have to get on the floor and do some yoga poses before he gets the hint.  But all of it is lovely.  I’m trying very hard not to take any of this for granted.  It already saddens me to think that, in another few months, I won’t feel him inside of me ever again.  This is a once in a lifetime experience for me, and I am cherishing it as such.

As I finish this post, I just want to send some love to one of my dear IF friends.  She got her beta results today.  She is so amazing and so strong, and it breaks my heart that she is having to deal with disappointment, yet again.  A lot is changing very quickly for me during this pregnancy, but one thing that has not, and will not change, is my empathy for every woman who experiences disappointment in her journey to motherhood.  I won’t take the gift I’ve been given for granted, and I won’t ever leave your side (unless you make me) as you continue traveling towards your happily ever after.  I know it is on the horizon.

Change

Things change.  I’m an adult.  I know that is just the way the world works.  And change can be good.  In fact, it is probably ultimately good more often than it is bad.  But I’m not generally good with change.  I have a tough time letting go of what is comfortable and familiar to me.  It is hard for me not to see “moving on” as “leaving something behind.”   Lately, I haven’t been left with much of a choice.  Change is happening whether I like it or not. 

This weekend, starting on Friday, was a weekend of change.   The news we received on Friday changed my “Positive Polly” perspective into confusion and sadness.  Then, on Friday night and Saturday, my relationship with my family changed drastically.  My mother (mentally ill), brother (16 with cognitive disabilities), sister (we’ve discussed her previously) and niece (five years old) came to my house, uninvited, to spend the night.  I had a nice dinner and pregnancy announcement planned, but (not surprisingly) things did not work out the way I’d hoped.  My mother’s vehicle broke down about an hour and a half from my house and it had to be towed to a service station.  My husband had to drive the hour and a half each way to pick my family up at the service station and bring them to my house.  My mother told my husband that she would just have to rent a car the next day.  She failed to mention that she had no money with her, no money in her bank account, and she does not have a credit card because she declared bankruptcy a few years ago.  So, when it was time for her to make arrangements to leave on Saturday, you can imagine my surprise when she asked me for my credit card while on the phone with the car rental agency.  I told her she couldn’t have it.  Without getting into too many of the details, I explained that she cannot have hundreds of dollars of our money because: (1) we don’t have it lying around for her to take as needed; (2) we now have a baby on the way and need to save for what is going to be a tight budget;  (3) she already “owes” me tens of thousands of dollars that I have written off because I know I will never be paid back; and (4) she isn’t entitled to our money just because I am related to her.  She yelled and screamed and then went to the other end of the house where my husband was.  I heard her tell him that I told her to ask him for his credit card!!!  I couldn’t believe it!!!  It was like dealing with a teenager who is addicted to drugs.  How could she lie like that, and think she wouldn’t be found out?  The Prince and I had already discussed that my family was not to be given any money this trip (The Prince is the one who finally made me realize I can’t keep funneling our money to them because I’m not helping their situation, I’m just enabling them).  In my not at all hormonal state, I screamed at my mother that there would be no more handouts.  She is on mental health disability and I understand she is too crazy to hold down a job, but she chooses to buy $80 mail order “real life baby dolls” and new furniture at 26% interest rates.  Those behaviors are in her control and I’m not paying for irresponsibility.  She told me that she’s glad I’m pregnant so I will get to experience what it feels like to be stabbed in the heart by my ungrateful child.  I didn’t expect my family to be as awesome about the pregnancy as The Prince’s family, but I didn’t expect it to get that bad, either. 

The Prince barely held his tongue.  I told him we were stuck because we couldn’t give her money but we also needed to get my family back on the road and heading the four hours it would take them to get back home.  I was cramping and sick and couldn’t take anymore stress.  (I should add that my sister was incredibly kind and tried to act as a buffer during this ordeal…but she isn’t really equipped to stand up to my mother, so she ended up as sad and stressed as I was).  We ended up calling The Prince’s parents and asked to borrow their extra vehicle for my mother to use until her checks clear next weekend.  My in-laws are the sweetest people ever, so they quickly agreed even though it is an inconvenience for them.  The Prince and I are scared that my mother will try to keep the vehicle, as she isn’t going to have money to get her car fixed and she has no credit card (a requirement for most rental car agencies).  She won’t speak to me on the phone…and won’t acknowledge my existence while on the phone with The Prince.   I know she’ll speak to me again when she needs money, but she crossed a line with her comments this weekend and our relationship will never be what it was before this weekend.   I’m saddened by that change, but I’m handling it better than I usually do.  I now have a good reason to distance myself from my mother’s craziness and distance is what I need right now. 

Also, after writing yesterday’s post about the comments made by my friend, I received a message from her that she was none too happy with my post and that our friendship was essentially going to be placed on hold, as I don’t appreciate her efforts to stay friends with me even though my pregnancy causes her some sadness.  I understand where she is coming from.  In hindsight, posting about the insensitive comments she made instead of addressing them with her directly was bad behavior on my part.  I think I was afraid of the confrontation that would ensue and so I took the passive (if you can call it that) approach.  But here is the thing…I’m not sorry that our friendship is changing.  I have a couple of friendships that I’ve made throughout my IF years that I really value but also realize that I have to really work at.  This friendship was one of those…I think we were both working really hard at staying friends.  A couple of my friends make comments that hurt my feelings on a regular basis, but I’ve been afraid to address the issue with them because I don’t want to lose them as friends, or I’m afraid that our friendship will change into something stiff and awkward.  But what I realized, reading my friend’s message yesterday, is that our friendship already had changed…I just wasn’t acknowledging it.  We are in such different places in our lives and our journeys, and we have been since even before I got pregnant, that we would be better served appreciating each other for what we are – two amazing strong women who have gone through IF hell - and not trying to make our relationship something that it just isn’t anymore.

So, in summation, there are some changes happening that, while uncomfortable, are healthy and ultimately positive.  You can try to swim upstream, or you can turn over, put your feet up and surrender to the current....it's going to keep flowing anyways.  It’s sad that, as usual, it has taken me so long to grasp a concept that is so basic…but at least I’ve got it now.  And while I am certainly not a “go-with-the-flow” kind of girl yet, I’ve got potential.

Uniquely Unqualified

I know I have not been leaving very many comments on other people’s blogs lately.  It isn’t because I’ve been too busy to read your posts.  My most recent wave of insomnia has allowed me to keep pretty up-to-date with my blog reading.  It also isn’t because I don’t care about what people are going through.  I still care deeply for each of the people who write the blogs I follow.

The reason that I have not been commenting is because I am in a strange place right now…a place where I feel uniquely unqualified to do anything…especially comment on other people’s situations.  I feel like a walking oxymoron – a pregnant infertile.  And that title is making me uncomfortable.  I don’t know that I still have the right to be giving advice or telling people to “hang in there because it will get better.”  Every time I even think those “comments,” a little voice inside of me says: “That’s easy for you to say, Princess.  You are pregnant.  No one wants to hear your two cents.  You aren’t in the trenches anymore.”  And even if I could quiet that mean little voice long enough to hit “send,” I find that frequently I can’t even think of anything intelligent and helpful to say.  I can offer support, but do people still want my support?

I remember that one of the blogs I read when I got started with blogging, in January, took a dramatic turn after only a couple of weeks, when the author got pregnant with twins.  I followed the blog for a few weeks after the pregnancy announcement, but then I had to stop because I felt like what she was writing about was no longer relevant to my situation.  Now I’m that person.  I’m becoming irrelevant to the situation that most of my blog buddies are in.  I haven’t changed the title of my blog yet, even though “the quest for the ever elusive positive pregnancy test” is now over.  I simply don’t know what to do with this blog.  I don’t know what it is supposed to become.

Do I tackle infertility issues based on my past experiences and make it a more “informational” type blog?  Do I continue to discuss my everyday experiences during the pregnancy, even though I am consciously trying to shift my focus to positive thoughts about the pregnancy, instead of the pain and grief of the three years it took to get here?  Is there a way to create a happy medium?  Can a pregnant infertile write an infertility blog? 

I used to see myself as this wise (I know…and apparently pretentious) self-made expert on infertility.  I felt confident giving advice, pointing people towards sources of information and pouring out the support that we all need and want.  But I don’t feel confident about anything anymore.  My self-given label is changing, my perspective is changing and I am feeling really irrelevant.  What does a fairy tale princess do when she’s ended one tale but hasn’t yet fully embraced the next one?  Can she exist in both simultaneously?  Do we care what happened to her in the first tale if we're reading her second tale?  I don't even feel qualified to answer my own questions right now, but they still need to be asked.

And They're Off...

The long awaited event has finally arrived.  My donor started her period yesterday, so we’re off to the races.  The donor coordinator didn’t call to let me know (big surprise), but there is an online “patient portal” where you can view your lab work, u/s results, instructions, consent forms and flow sheets for each cycle.  The flow sheet for my donor cycle had been updated with anticipated dates for the beginning of the cycle and apparently the consent forms, and the bill, are in the mail with my instructions. 

The patient portal says I will have my baseline ultrasound on April 1^st, to check that I am not pregnant, etc.  Then, if I am still suppressed (which I appear to be, as my period “scare” last Friday was a fluke that only lasted a few hours), we all move forward with medications (Lupron all around…assuming I need it) starting on April 3^rd.  The donor should get her period by the 8^th or 9^th, and she will have her baseline ultrasound on the 9^th.  Then, presuming all is well (pleeeeeeeze let it all be well), she will start her stimulation medications and the other recipient and I will start estrogen.  If the donor has an average stimulation cycle (8-12 days), egg retrieval will be around the 21^st.  Making my beta test right before Mother’s Day.  I guess better to know than not to know, right?

I had anticipated this schedule, and had told the Prince to hold open all of late April.  So, what does he do?  He schedules a surgery for himself for April 21^st!  He scheduled it last week.  I asked him to change it.  He refused.  And here we are…right where I expected us to be.  Realistically, we can get from the city where he has to drop off his "contribution" on egg retrieval day to our city within a couple of hours.  So…getting back by the time of his afternoon surgery won’t be a problem.  But really?!?  We need more stress right then?!?  Plus, he is having cartilage removed from behind his ear (a revision surgery of his prior “ear-pinning-back surgery” in July).  So he has to wear a bandage wrapped around his head and he will be on pain meds for a week after the surgery.  That means, come embryo transfer day, I will be driving to the other city (and back) and he will be attending what could be one of the most important events in our lives high on oxycodone…or worse…grumpy from pain.  He is adamant that he won’t reschedule and I am trying not to be angry with him, but it’s tough…with all of the sacrifices I am making…I just feel like he should be able to make this one sacrifice.  he would have to wait until July if he doesn't do the surgery now...but I feel like...it's cosmetic surgery...who cares?

So, bottom line, I am really excited that things are finally moving.  And I finally have a plan (phew!).  But, at the same time, I am frustrated with my husband.  I am scared about whether this is going to work.  I am concerned that things are starting without me being in a mentally positive place…something that has never happened before.  My track record shows that the power of positive thinking is crap…but what if it isn’t?  I feel like I need to believe this is going to work…and I’m not there.  I am also a little emotional about using a donor.  I know that the time has passed for me to be wavering on whether I am okay giving up on having a child that is genetically mine…and I know that if I get pregnant it won’t matter whose DNA is coursing through the baby’s veins.  But I still feel conflicted about giving up on that child I had dreamed of…the one with my eyes and my hair and my crooked smile.  My ultimate dream, right now, is being able to enjoy this cycle.  I want to not stress out about every little thing (including my husband’s toddler ways) and just be happy that I have an opportunity that so many women never have.  I want to be thrilled that my chances of getting pregnant are insanely higher than they’ve ever been.  I want to be grateful for the gift the donor is giving me.  I just wish wanting to change how I feel was enough to cause the change to occur.  For now, I will have to settle for going to yoga and acupuncture tonight, and praying for a breakthrough.

P.S.  Thank you so much, ladies, for following this blog and posting your thoughtful and kind comments.  I don’t get to go back and comment on your comments very often, but I want you to know that they make all the difference in the world to me and I can’t imagine doing this without you…whoever you are.  J





And then the Princess had a colonic...

I bet you don't hear that in many fairy tales... "The princess didn't know what to do so she paid someone to put a hose...."  For the record, I am not getting a colonic.  But, I am thinking about starving myself for the weekend.  Actually, to be more specific, I am thinking about paying someone else to starve me for the weekend.  The spa calls it “Spiritual Cleansing through Fasting,” but let’s be honest…it’s starving yourself and meditating a lot.

I’ve been researching various retreats for weeks now, knowing that I need to get away from my life for a couple of days to get back in touch with “me.”  It’s sad that I have to leave my life to feel connected, but that is the current state of matters and there is no sense in fighting it.  I’m terrified of starting this upcoming, and most important, IVF cycle in the state of mind I’m currently in.  Something has to change and it just isn’t happening while I’m caught up in my day-to-day life. 

In my search for the perfect retreat, I found a place that really appealed to me.  It is only a couple of hours from where I live, it has beautiful scenery and lots of land to roam around on, and it’s cheaper than a lot of the retreats I’ve compared it to.  The only problem is…this weekend…the weekend that I have available to go on a retreat….is “CLEANSE” weekend. 

For those of you who don’t know what a “cleanse” is, let me quote a few lines from the online description of the retreat:  “We'll begin with a dinner of fresh juice on Friday evening.  After dinner we’ll have a Circle to get more connected.  Saturday morning we'll do yoga, skin brushing, and meditation.  Then we'll do a walkabout (on our beautiful 250 acres), relax, juice and have a class/discussion on nutrition, food preparation and wellness.  In the afternoon we'll do a sweat lodge together.  Lodge is a great way to detoxify and strengthen your mind/body/spirit.  We'll do a healing meditation before retiring to bed.  We'll have three "meals" of fresh juice plus other juices, tea and broth as well.  We'll complete the retreat on Sunday morning with some morning practice (similar to Saturday morning) and a breakfast meal in silence to maximize our re-entry to food.  We'll finish with a Walk in Beauty Circle, and people will leave for home by noon.  In addition, you can choose to receive a complimentary colonic on Saturday, if you so choose.  The atmosphere is relaxed and supportive.  It's very restful and rejuvenating.”

FYI- I reitterate here...I do NOT “so choose” to partake in the "complinetary" colonic.  Even my open mind has some limits.

So, when I first read that description, I thought “No way.  I’ve been fighting with that cold and the dehydration that came along with it.  I am a hundred pounds over my normal weight (according to the doctor’s charts) and am afraid I might pass out if I don’t eat often enough.”  But then, today, as I was telling a friend about how I had laughed off this retreat, I had two “ah ha moments.” First, as I heard myself talking about why I shouldn’t go, I realized that I am making excuses for why I “can’t” do something.  And I am starting to realize that those excuses are why I don’t get anything done.  Whenever I try to make a change in myself, there is always something holding me back - It doesn't work with the timing with my cycle, I'm too fat to do that without hurting myself, I'm too tired with everything I have going on.  Well, I call "Bullshit!" on myself.  Maybe I can do this.  Maybe it would feel good to do this, if for no other reason than to say that I accomplished something I didn’t think I could do going into it.  Maybe that's reason enough to do it. 

The second realization came when my friend was saying that she doesn’t think that she could psychologically handle not eating food for two days.  She said that she would be obsessed with the fact that she was not eating and wouldn’t be able to think about anything else.  As she said that, I realized that working through the obsession might just be the point.  I am obsessed with everything in my life right now.  I control, control, control…and freak out when things don’t go as planned.  So, if I was forced to face an obsession (say…a psychological obsession with food and hunger), and could see that I can not only get past that obsession, but I can replace it with healthy, meditative and nurturing thoughts, wouldn’t that be an amazing feat?  Isn't it possible that this retreat could be the catalyst I need to turn my frown upside down (ugh...I cringe even typing that).

I’ll let you know what I decide in tomorrow’s post but I am giving you fair warning that this fairy tale might have a wacky chapter coming up soon.