Another day older...

Wait, make that another year older. That's right. This year I turned 35. And while I thought it would hit me hard, it didn't. I have no idea why. Maybe because I'm happy where I am, hopeful about the future, and I have never been one to conform to society's ideas about motherhood. So, would I have chosen to start my family after 35? Nope. Not really. But I have much to be thankful for.

There have been moments in my life when I haven't been as positive. There are times when I've been very depressed about my infertility. While I would have loved to have the opportunity to choose the timing and number of children in our family, I have learned a lot from my infertility.

I'm sure you all watch the news. And today one of the headlines is about a Food Network chef that hired a homeless (or allegedly hired a homeless man or two) to kill his wife. Now it's coming out that SHE wanted to die because she couldn't have children. Oh puhlease.

Yes, infertility is a gut punch. Yes, it's a kick in the head, when you're down and think you just might be able to get back up. It's hard on a marriage, it's hard on your psyche, and sometimes I just don't want to get out of bed. I, however, have NEVER wanted to die because of it. So, I don't understand this excuse. This cop out.

And frankly, it pisses me off. This one person that "wants to die because she can't be a mother" makes us all look weak, and crazy. It's not that I don't get that stereotype enough as it is. Now there's this, to count against every infertile woman that's fought hard to overcome this damaging misconception. Have I cried when friends/family have gotten pregnant? Yes. Have I thrown a tantrum or two? Perhaps. But it's about me. Not them. It's not that I'm not so happy for them. It's that I'm sad for me. Sad for what I can't have. Why is that so bad? People cry over things all the time? They cry over lost goals/dreams/wishes. But because I'm a woman and I'm infertile, I'm crazy. Bite me.

I can imagine that I'm fortunate. While Sparky and I have struggled and waivered, in many ways infertility has made us stronger. We've had to fight against opinions for many years. Opinions about our relationship, opinions about how/when/if we start a family. We've had to defend ourselves in ways that the average couple doesn't have to. No, we haven't had a perfect life. We aren't perfect people. But we have both worked hard to stay together and become stronger.

So, here I am. 35 and looking forward to starting my family. If you don't like it, that's fine. I don't need you to be okay with our choices. Because it's our family. Mine, and Sparky's. I know that the choices we make aren't the choices that a lot of people would make. And their choices wouldn't work for me.

I'm looking forward to my 35th year. I have a feeling it's going to be great!

Indecision

I'm a flip-flopper. I just am. It's in me. Every time I think I'm A-OK with something, I start to make a mental list of pros and cons. Or I freak out a bit.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am fully on board with adoption. I have had one issue with it since the beginning of the true research phase. Most adoption agencies want infertile couples to completely put trying to conceive behind you. I just don't know if I can. Or if I'm ready to do that.

I would like to have control over that aspect of my life. I don't. I haven't ever. So it ticks me off a little bit that my reproductive future is so important to someone else. I just don't know what it matters. Isn't it my choice? Shouldn't it be my choice. I have no doubt that at least a portion of my family will come through adoption, so what should it matter in which order that happens.

I have made no definite decisions about anything. Because, thankfully, I don't have to right at this minute. However, the decision will have to come sooner or later.

Any ideas??

Have a happy day!

Moving Forward

Somewhere over the weekend I took the trip to see the great and powerful Oz. I don't know when I found the time, but it must have been while I was sleeping. But whatever, I'm happy that it happened. He gave me great advice, as it turns out.

Since knowledge is power I have decided to continue gathering as much information as humanly possible. Why not? We still haven't made the decision of which direction we are planning to go. Brent is still learning toward attorney and networking ourselves, and I'm leaning towards an agency.

So I'm starting out by buying this book. I've heard that it's the best in the what's to know about everything adoption. After that I'm digging out the information that I received a couple weeks ago from an agency in Fairbanks, and then I'm going to continue down the list of numbers I have to seek out more information.

In between all of that I'm going to get my sorry butt working, since having children isn't exactly cheap, I need to start bringing in some money. In addition to that my brain is craving something to do on a daily basis.

Also, because my PCOS has had a nice long hiatus of a few months I'm going to be starting my Metformin, a common treatment for PCOS this morning. Met usually leaves me feeling pretty crummy, so it's a good thing that I'm home. I'll have to build up my tolerance over the next few weeks. That should give me something to complain, er I mean blog about, in the coming days.

I know I seem half crazy, but dealing with infertility is much more about the emotional and mental scars for me. After feeling like I've been knocked down time after time, I really just have to build myself up for the next portion of the journey. I'm beyond excited to finally become a mom, and I know that biology has NOTHING to do with love. Truthfully, I have no doubts about my ability to love whatever child/ren God has for us. In fact, I'm quite convinced that I just wasn't meant to have bio children. Great. Honestly, I just wish I'd figured that out sooner.

Heaven knows that the journey here has been full of ups and downs, but I'm fastening my seatbelt and getting ready for the next (and undoubtedly best) portion of the ride. Hands up, mouths open, leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet's gooooooooooooooooo!!!

Have a happy day!

More than my Infertility

I'm on facebook. Are you on facebook? Anyway, it's a great tool for staying in touch. It seems like everyone gets busier and busier these days and no one has time for a full email let alone a full phone call. Anyway, on facebook they put together all these little notes. In one note you are to name 25 random things about you. One of my 25 things was this:



My infertility does not define me and will not keep me from being a mother.



It's true. I am so much more than this label that has been placed on me. Most infertile women are more than this horrible, horrible thing that has happened to them, and yet, it seems like it's the only thing that some of the people in their lives can remember about them.

Infertility has changed me. I no longer take things for granted, I'm no longer willing to just take someone else's word and leave it at that, I am stronger, I am strong-willed, and I am less romantic about most notions in life.

For a long time I have regretted not completing college. At the time, I just wasn't ready. I had no desire once I got there, all I wanted was to get married and have children. I have always planned on going back to school when the kids were in school. Sounds reasonable and normal. However, 9 years later I still want to go to school, and there are no children. So, now I have to re-evaluate another portion of my life and come up with a solution that I am happy with.

That seems what my life has become. Re-evaluations and solutions, or compromises if you will. But I guess that's what life always is.

So much more than missing a child

I wish that I could put into words all the issues that come along with infertility. Infertility, the battle, the journey, is so much more than just missing a child. Infertility takes a toll on most marriages. Some marriages survive, others don't. I would like to hope, and I often pray, that ours will survive it.

No, we aren't getting divorced. But infertility has taken its toll. We both, at varying times, feel unsure about our future as a family. Some days it's easier, some days it's harder. There are so many other feelings that lie in the hearts and minds of infertile couples. We have to deal with feelings of hurt, loss and resentment. Are they unfounded? No, not entirely.

For me, I think the fact that they are valid is harder to deal with than the actual feelings themselves. I cannot speak for Sparky, but I know that sometimes he gets angry, for seemingly no reason, but under the anger is fear, and hurt, and resentment. And why shouldn't he feel those things? He could go out, find a new partner, and have as many little Sparky's as he has time and money for. I can't. Therefore, I have the same feelings. Probably in a slightly different order, and for slightly different reasons.

Sometimes I even feel like he should. When he promised to love me he didn't know that I was defective. If the tables were turned would I feel differently? I'm pretty sure that my emotions and feelings would run along the same lines as his.

Like most married couples we have good days and bad days. Some are better than others, some are worse. When you layer the infertility with it, it becomes much harder to come upon the real issue. Sometimes I become way too upset about the jelly being left on the counter, or his underwear in the corner of the bathroom. No, it's not about the jelly or his unders, but at the moment it's the only thing I can focus on.

Right now we have a lot of new things in our lives. A new home, a new job, in a new state. We are far, far away from those we love and count on. Sometimes I think it's good, and other times I worry that we might need some space from the feelings and the issues that we cannot ignore.

I know we'll be fine. How? Because we both care, and we both try to communicate the feelings we are having to eachother. We care enough to be concerned by them, to pray about them, and do something about them. I know that he loves me. If he didn't he wouldn't be here. I know that I love him, well, because I know myself better than anyone else.

We talk, and we sometalks "discuss" too loudly. But no one said marriage, let alone marriage with infertility, was perfect and clean. Sometimes it's messy, sometimes it's great, and sometimes it just is.

PCOS

As I’ve posted in previous posts, I have PCOS. I was told by my previous Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) that I have one of the most severe cases of PCOS/insulin resistance that he’s ever seen. Seeing that this man is one of the top RE’s at the Mayo Clinic, it means something to me.

So, what to do? I have to change my life. And while that seems like a simple statement, the magnitude of this life is huge. But it’s literally necessary for me to live. If I don’t I will become a diabetic in a matter of a few years, and I will never, ever be able to think about carrying a bio child. That’s pretty huge.

I won’t lie and say that it wasn’t devastating to hear the first time around. But now that the information has sunk in, it has to become my reality. It’s too important not too. Since my insulin resistance is so severe I will have to modify my diet to never, or never in regular intervals, consume starches.

This of course does not mean that I can survive on bacon and fried eggs for eternity. It means healthy, wholesome lean meats and vegetables. Lots and lots of salad without the heavy dressings. Thankfully, I love veggies and meat. Now that we’re living in Alaska I’m trying to add more fish and seafood to the menu. We’ll see how that goes.

So we’re doing our best to remove certain foods, and significantly reduce other foods that we eat. As a whole, we eat well. We don’t buy processed foods, and we try to keep other fast foods to a minimum. Some how it’s never enough. I have to get more strict in order to start seeing the results I need. But then again, no one said life was easy.

Attitude?

I remember the first time I’d heard of infertility. It was attached to some bizarre family somewhere that birthed a litter of children. I also remember at the time being so sure of myself, so sure that nothing like that would happen to me, and that if, God forbid, I was ever in that position, I would NEVER make the same choices they made.

Now that I’m older, and arguably wiser, I know all too well how personal the infertility journey is. There are so many people in our lives that try very hard to be supportive. But unless you know the pain and the emptiness you cannot possibly have an opinion. This makes it doubly hard to put up a wall against all those well-meaning people who come with advice and advice and more advice. If they only knew how many times the average infertile couple has heard “just relax”, or “go on vacation”, or “just adopt and you’ll get pregnant”.

In recent years, we’ve been fortunate to have infertility come to the forefront. When we first started TTC I felt so alone. Now there are many more women who come forward. There are many more programs on tv, much more information available through the internet, however, it’s also important to remember that each case of infertility is as different as the women/couples that it affects.

I’ve always been very open and comfortable talking about PCOS and the journey we’ve been through. I find, however, that many people are uncomfortable with the topic of infertility so I usually just hang back and then wait for cues from those we meet along the way.
Throughout the journey I’ve learned that Sparky is really much more open about it all. He’ll come home with information and stories of conversations. He feels very free to discuss it with whomever he comes in contact with, which I personally think is wonderful.

I thank God that I live in the times we live in. I would have been distraught and devastated having not known what was wrong. Unexplained infertility has to be even more frustrating than a diagnosis. So I’m fortunate in that we have medical information and advances in our corner.

Sorry...I'm on an internet hiatus

April will mark our 9th year of trying to conceive. Of course, at this point trying to conceive (TTC) means not being on birth control, and just hoping and praying that it might happen, maybe. Actually I rarely buy pregnancy tests anymore. I know that it will be negative, so why bother?
TTC has moved to long discussions about what and where to go next. We have all but decided to adopt. We have thought about, researched, and talked about adoption for a long time. Our issue, if that’s the correct wording, is not with our attitude towards adoption, but with agencies and they’re desire for infertile couples to not continue to TTC after the adoption process has been started.
Now, don’t get me wrong. We aren’t doing any treatments. They wouldn’t result in anything at this point anyway. We know that we don’t want to do in vitro, it’s just not right for us. Having a bio child isn’t that important to us. However, I don’t know if I’m ready to promise someone that I won’t change my mind. And just because we don’t prevent pregnancy, doesn’t mean that it will ever happen for us.
As an adoptive parent we will go through a lot of scrutiny. Mentally it makes every bit of sense in the world, emotionally it’s very, very difficult. As a woman that has survived IF, or hopes to survive IF, I feel judged every day. Most people assume that we don’t want children, others try to be encouraging with the just adopt then you’ll get pregnant mentality. Now with the pursuit of adoption I will have my life, my marriage, my mental status, my finances, my world examined.
I know that the choices and decisions that the birth parents will make are very difficult. I cannot fathom how excruciating it must be to know that the best decision is likely the hardest one they’ll have to make in their lifetime. How do you look at a piece of paper and choose a person/couple to hand your child’s life over too? So, I know that their portion of the process isn’t easy either. Most likely they have already felt judged, and shameful, though I hope that they would have loving, supportive people in their lives.
Now that Sparky and I have been going through all of this, we’re older. We face scrutiny and judgement in that alone. Most days I really don’t care, honestly. Then other days someone will make a completely innocent remark and I feel judged and beaten up emotionally. There are people who have tried longer, cried longer, and been older. But this is all I know.

Tick...Tock...Tick...Tock...

Depending on the day I can hear my biological clock ticking away. Sometimes it's a very soft tick, other days it's not-so-subtle and I can almost audibly hear it, and other times it's an ear shattering clang at 100 beats per minute. Every year the tick seems quieter. Quieter? Yes, quieter.


Sparky and I talk frequently about becoming parents. For some reason, it's all a dream. Something that I'm never sure will come to fruition. We both desperately want to hold our children, to spend endless Saturday mornings in bed, watching cartoons, with the dog. And maybe a cat, or two.

This time of year is especially hard. It's supposed to be the happiest time of the year. A time for families. It's just us. We don't feel much like a family. Even though, I know the two of us make a very strong, loving family. Us, the dog and the cat. lol. We love. Strongly. Deeply. And we hurt. Deeply.

Each year we have faith that this will be "our" year. That this next holiday season will be shared with our child. So, we continue to have faith, and hope, and wish, and pray, that someday soon, our dreams come true.

Cha-cha-changes

It seems that everything in our world is changing right now. So, I say to myself, why not do a major extreme makeover on my ass. Why not? Life's short. Live fully or not at all. Enter change #752. Actually, I don't mind at all. It's really been a long time coming, and it's not something that I'm going to do to totally shock my body. I need to ease into it.

I will also, eventually, have to start my meds. Metformin. 2000mg daily is the goal. I will start with 500 mg working up to the desired amount. So, what's the problem? Well, let's see, it makes me, um, really, um, sick. Let's just leave it there. It will eventually (supposedly) make me feel better but initially it makes me feel like shit. Pure shit. No pun intended. lol.

In my opinion a large, perhaps the largest part of the infertility game is mental. It's hard. It's tiring. No, tiring is NOT the word, exhausting. It is EXHAUSTING. For me, it's the one thing that makes me put all my cards in, or out, at one time. It's just so hard to overcome. That's when the anger, resentment and self-pity come in. However, as a woman who wants a child/ren, I don't feel that I can let this rest until I do my best to become pregnant.

After that if it doesn't happen then I will happily run towards the nearest adoption agency. I really don't know what it is, but I feel I'm destined to adopt. I know, sounds strange, but don't you dare judge it until you've lived it. I feel that at least part of my family will be built through adoption. I'm really excited about that.

So, as I sit here waiting for sleep to grab hold, sipping my raspberry zinger tea with soymilk, I know that someday (hopefully soon) I'll be yearning for these days as I nurse an infant, comfort a toddler, scold a pre-teen...I can't wait.

Another Year Passes

Yesterday was Sparky's birthday. Birthday's here are hard days. This year was particularly hard because he was stricken with the flu. Being laid up in bed leaves you plenty of time to reflect on all the unaccomplished things in life. To be fair, I cannot imagine all the things that comprise his list, but I know this, he misses not having a child as much as I. I know. Because he told me.

Tonight I watched Then She Found Me. It's a movie starring Helen Hunt, by Helen Hunt. It also co-stars Bette Midler, Matthew Broderick and Colin Firth. It's an okay movie for the average viewer. It was intriguing to me. Intriguing because it addresses infertility (although briefly) and adoption. In fact the whole movie is about adoption. But it addresses the process. The process of moving from trying to conceive to adoption.

Most people assume that if they aren't able to have bio children they'll "just adopt." Well, I can tell you. It's not that easy. It's not a simple decision. It's not something that you "just" do. Adoption has been a part of my life forever. But, for me, knowing that it may be possible to have a bio child makes me question that maybe I'm not trying hard enough, loving enough, etc. It's not an automatic progression. Some choose to move to adoption. Some adopt embryos, others adopt infants and older children.

A lot of people don't understand the mental portion of the game. Infertility kicks your ass. It makes you question everything that you've always taken for granted. I mean your fertility is your one sure thing. Right? Not. So, now after you've been knocked down and knocked down, you are rated, inspected and investigated. It's a normal process, anyone would want the best home, a safe home, for any child. However, after infertility it feels like an even larger invasion into your life.

I had to work through the emotions of it all. I'm still working through the emotions of it all. Most days I realize what a sacrifice, what a gift it is for the birth parents to choose to let someone else raise their child. Other days I feel judged. Subjectified. Why is it fair that someone who doesn't want their child is allowed to discern if I'm good enough? It's not me. I know that's not the real scenario. But sometimes it's how I feel. And I won't feel guilty. Why should I? My sure thing was taken from me.

Sparky recently told me that he didn't think we'd have a bio child. That he believes we'll adopt. But, he said he is sad about that, because he'd love to see what a bio child of ours would look like. Let me tell you this. It was a kick in the stomach. Figuratively of course. But I felt it. Emotionally and physically.

I know that I will love all of my children equally and very, very deeply. I know from being surrounded by friends and family, that biology is not what makes love exist. I hope someday I'm blessed with a child. Hopefully more than one. I would like to experience pregnancy, I would like the entire experience. But I know now that if adoption is the path I'm supposed to follow, I will feel complete, happy, and fulfilled. Sometimes you just have to trust those unanswered prayers.

Please.

I'm having a hard time. I admit it. Nothing in life is easy, but lately it seems that our life is a giant hamster wheel and we're getting no where fast. No. Where. I swear that every single person I know is pregnant, just had a baby, a new grandparent, a newly expectant grandparent, and frankly, I want to scream. SCREAM. Top of my lungs, raspy throat, blood curdling scream. Ugh. Enough already.

This situation is of course exacerbated by the fact that my dear friend is pregnant which I wrote about here. And I am really, truly excited for Bubba to arrive. So, why? Why do I feel like it may never happen for me? Why do I not get to experience the pure elation, the swollen ankles, the exhileration and exhaustion of a newborn. Why?

You know. Most of the time I can put it behind me. But it's getting harder. Each day I grow older, I grow more scared, and I grow more tired. Why hope? Why dream? So many of my hopes and dreams have been dashed. There is never enough time, enough money, enough will power, enough...me. What makes me not enough? Why was I chosen and not someone else? Someone else less worthy of the love of a child.

Most days I like to believe that God had a bigger plan. Not a better plan, just a bigger one for me. But some days it's hard to see the silver lining in the dark heaviness over head. Sometimes, I just want it to happen, without having to cry, to poke, to prod, to hurt, to bargain.

I want to be a mom. More than anything in the world. I only need one. Please.

She's having a baby...

So in all the drama with Alaska, I have neglected to update you on my life. My good friend, S, is expecting her second child in the coming weeks, possibly days. I'm fortunate that I have good friends. The road of infertility is hard, and I've been shocked by the callousness of people I allowed into my life. Those who have taken my innermost private feelings and used them against me. Some of my "friends" have taken my reactions, my feelngs, and used them to turn others against me, or make me seem like less of a friend because of them. These people are no longer a part of my life.

Back to S. When she was expecting her first child, Spunky, she was gracious enough to include me in every portion of the pregnancy. I was even there when we found out that Spunky was a girl. To the average person it may not seem like a very big deal, but to me, a woman that's only had the privilege of seeing ovaries and a uterus via ultrasound, seeing that flutter, that beating, pulsing heart, was one of dreams. To see that little gummi bear moving and waving was fantastic. After Spunky was born I spent more time there than at home, but I was connected to her, and to S. She allowed me a special place through her pregnancy, a privilege I may never experience on my own, and for that I am truly thankful to her.

Move forward 2.5 years. S is ready to have child #2. She and hubby try the first month and she receives a negative pregnancy test. Spunky was conceived on the first shot, so this was her first negative. She was devastated. The first one, or ten, are always hard. Luckily, the next month's timing turned out to be better and we found out that Bubba was on his way. Again, S has included me. The situation is slightly different this time, but seeing, feeling, touching him (and unavoidably her) she's allowed me once again to live it with her. It's simple really. She wouldn't have to do it. But I'll be forever thankful to her for that.

Last night I sat and watched her belly move. I watched as Bubba stretched and pushed. I helped her time a couple of contractions. And even though I saw she was uncomfortable, I couldn't help but feel envious. To wonder, for just a moment, what it must feel like to feel him move, feel him push, and tug, and even though it's not always pleasant for her. And I wonder...will that ever be me?

'Til Later...

PCOS Sucks.

One of my main issues with the move to Alaska, is the lack of medical care. Or perhaps it's more fair to say, my perception of the lack of medical care there. If I were a normal woman I would have no reservations about the move, family building wise anyway.

We're leaning toward, feeling drawn to, adoption. But what now? What? How do I begin? WHEN do I begin? So, for now, we're heading back towards the trying to conceive a bio child, and then if that doesn't work out, we'll move forward.

It's hard, and scary, emotionally. To put yourself out there, to set yourself up for the disappointment and the heartbreak. It's exhausting. The thought of it makes me want to give up. And we're no where near beginning yet. Ugh. But I need not get a head of myself. I have a lot of work to do before the fun begins. I need to get this frick frackin' PCOS under control. You know what? Screw control, I'm going to conquer this bitch once and for all.

Now, once I get Sparky packed up and on his way, game on.
Are you in?

Feeling...broken.

So, since we used to live in Colorado and I miss the mountains I start by reading the Denver Post online. My first stop is the horoscopes. Not because I'm that into astrology, etc, but because I think it's fun and interesting when the stars line up and something in my horoscope matches up with my real life.

Today's horoscope told me that I would feel extra amorous towards a "loved one". I'm hoping that's Sparky. And that baby pink and blue would become very interesting colors to me. Wow, seems like a simple statement. A simple sentence. And yet, it completed knocked the wind out of me.

You see, most normal women can tell by the way they feel, the way their body feels, that they are pregnant. For me. Not so much. All the things that point to ovulation, pregnancy, my period, they all get intermingled in my body. Nothing is true. Nothing is right. How do I know? Because I haven't ovulated in over 15 years. And if I have, that's one evasive little egg.

Well, no matter how much I know about infertility, and no matter how much I know about my broken body and the fact that it will never work properly, I still have hope. Hope is supposed to be a positive emotion, a positive feeling, and yet, more often than not, I just want the hope to leave. I don't want to experience that huge fall after I realize that I'm broken, and I'm not pregnant. Again.

Last week a lady from work brought her new born in. After 8 years I'm pretty numb to about anything. I'm at the age where all of my friends are having children. Some have just begun their journey and others are finished. Their families complete. How strange is it that women my age, and I'm only 33, have completed their families? And some of them, were complete years ago. I got up from my desk after listening to the new born cry and hearing my co-workers coo and gush, and walked back to meet the new little one. And about after 3 minutes of standing there watching the new mom beam, I had to walk away, and go to the restroom to cry. This hasn't happened in a very long time.

So, now I sit, just me and my broken body and wonder if and when it'll be my turn. Dear God, please let it happen soon. I don't know how much longer I can last. Seriously.