I spent last night at the home of two of my best friends, who just happen to be the parents of my goddaughter "Chava". Back before Chava was born, I used to tease them, half-seriously, about how once they had "my baby", s/he would become more important to me than they. I was wrong, though; I discovered that the heart has an unbelievably vast capacity for love. I love them as much as I ever did, but at the same time, found a new love that has me reeling, almost two and a half years after she was born.
Chava, almost 2.5 years old, is my delight, my joy, my frustration, and my light. I never thought I could love a child this much; at least, not a child that did not come from my own body. I spoke to her before she was born; I had the honor of watching as she passed from her mother's body into the world; I rocked her through colic, colds, earaches and teething; I saw her first smiles; I stood before God and man, and vowed to watch, love, and teach her as her godmother; I watched her crawl for the first time; I watched her first steps. Although she is not the child of my body, she is the child of my heart. I am so attached to this child that I almost feel guilty for wanting to have a child, because how could I think of possibly usurping her position by giving birth to "my second" child?
When I see her, even if it's just a photograph of her, I just smile and think, "That face. I love that face." I know this sounds unforgivably hokey, but I don't understand how anyone can look into the face of a child, and not believe that there is a God; and I can't honestly think of how to explain that, at least not well. Children are such miraculous packages of joy that I can't help feeling a connection to the Divine when I'm in their presence.
When Chava screams because we've taken away her "lipsick" (lipstick, which is really lip balm), which she applies constantly for hours on end, I love her. When she throws herself at me, hugs my neck so hard she almost strangles me, nuzzles her nose to mine and claims me by saying, "My Kimmy!", I love her. When she frowns at me because I've committed the unforgivable faux pas of walking in front of the TV if she's watching Rella (Cinderella, also once known as "Dress" for the blue ball gown) or Caillou (a cartoon of a little Canadian boy, whose totally bald head makes me & Chava's parents joke about him going through chemo), I love her.
She goes to a bilingual daycare, and has since she was a newborn. Her first words were a mixture of English and Spanish, and she still occasionally uses Spanish at home. I think I've learned more Spanish from this child than I ever knew; if nothing else, out of a sense of desperation to figure out what she wants. Zapatos? Mas? Vamos? Aqui? What is she saying?!? Heck, I took German and Russian for my foreign languages! We're all learning baby-Spanish with her just to understand this child!
What can I say? I've watched this child grow from her first u/s picture (that made her look like a ghoul because her bones showed so clearly), to the strong-willed and enchanting little girl she is today. Everyday that I am with her, I am thankful that I am getting the opportunity to be a part of a child's life, and that that child is so wonderful. I just have to get her some more lipsick, because her dad keeps hiding it.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Oprah infertility show
Earlier this week, Oprah did a show on infertility. To be exact, it was about people using surrogate mothers in India, and a brief bit about IVF. I watched the show, waiting as always, to feel that sigh of relief, that someone in the media was finally going to show what it's like to struggle with infertility. And as always, I came away from the show feeling vaguely dissatisfied.
I want someone to show a real segment, with real feelings, about the pain of IF. The couple using the surrogate was okay, but I guess what I wanted was for them to teach the world about what led them to the decision: the feelings of hopelessness, because they'd been TTC for years with no success; the despair and loss of dignity of having to open the most intimate part of their lives to doctors; the strain as their marriage suffered under the twin yokes of scheduled sex and mutual resentment; the trickling away of hope every month when a spot of blood appeared.
Perhaps my expectations are too high, but I don't really think so. If the same show can capitalize on the heart-wrenching images of children weeping because of the problems caused by their parents' divorce, it can surely try to show the real pain of IF. I guess showing adults upset because they can't have a baby doesn't fetch ratings as much as showing cute little kids crying.
And the mini-segment on IVF that featured Alexis Stewart? I can't imagine anything less likely to induce empathy. She was so cold and detached while she talked about her multiple failed rounds of IVF that I was wondering if they'd replaced a human being with a robot. She could have just as easily been talking about getting a manicure done, she was so bland.
While I don't pretend that I know AS, or know her personal struggle, I'm going to be generous and say that perhaps her demeanor was her form of self-preservation: a sort of, "act detached and keep it impersonal, and maybe I'll come out of this interview with my dignity intact" kind of thing. But I think it backfired, because even I, a veteran in the IF war, found it hard to have any sympathy for a fellow soldier in the trenches. And that's sad.
We all have a right to do what we have to, to get through IF with as much of our sanity intact as we can. But if you're going to go on national television to talk about it, why not use the opportunity to do something really positive, and maybe show the world a real glimpse into the lives of people suffering from IF? It was pretty much a wasted hour, watching that episode of Oprah. Or, as my friends say, "That's an hour of my life I can never get back."
I want someone to show a real segment, with real feelings, about the pain of IF. The couple using the surrogate was okay, but I guess what I wanted was for them to teach the world about what led them to the decision: the feelings of hopelessness, because they'd been TTC for years with no success; the despair and loss of dignity of having to open the most intimate part of their lives to doctors; the strain as their marriage suffered under the twin yokes of scheduled sex and mutual resentment; the trickling away of hope every month when a spot of blood appeared.
Perhaps my expectations are too high, but I don't really think so. If the same show can capitalize on the heart-wrenching images of children weeping because of the problems caused by their parents' divorce, it can surely try to show the real pain of IF. I guess showing adults upset because they can't have a baby doesn't fetch ratings as much as showing cute little kids crying.
And the mini-segment on IVF that featured Alexis Stewart? I can't imagine anything less likely to induce empathy. She was so cold and detached while she talked about her multiple failed rounds of IVF that I was wondering if they'd replaced a human being with a robot. She could have just as easily been talking about getting a manicure done, she was so bland.
While I don't pretend that I know AS, or know her personal struggle, I'm going to be generous and say that perhaps her demeanor was her form of self-preservation: a sort of, "act detached and keep it impersonal, and maybe I'll come out of this interview with my dignity intact" kind of thing. But I think it backfired, because even I, a veteran in the IF war, found it hard to have any sympathy for a fellow soldier in the trenches. And that's sad.
We all have a right to do what we have to, to get through IF with as much of our sanity intact as we can. But if you're going to go on national television to talk about it, why not use the opportunity to do something really positive, and maybe show the world a real glimpse into the lives of people suffering from IF? It was pretty much a wasted hour, watching that episode of Oprah. Or, as my friends say, "That's an hour of my life I can never get back."
Friday, October 05, 2007
I have the no-job blues
Believe it or not, I could care less about TTC right now. I actually have NOT ovulated, and am on day 5,623 of my cycle (or maybe it's day 27, who knows?). I'm not bothering with opks anymore; at this point, I know this is a messed up cycle, and I have other things to worry about than TTC.
-I'm still unemployed, and it's not fun anymore. Yeah, sure, it was luxurious for a while, being able to sleep in everyday and have an extended vacation. But now it's just starting to get depressing. Am I just not good enough for anyone to hire me? Rejection is not a pretty feeling.
-Through a baffling mish-mash of miscommunication, error and stupidity, the company that I used to work for paid for the renewal of my insurance (real estate license E&O) and membership to the Realtor's association. Even though I was supposed to have been released from the company 2 months ago, and am in the process of retiring my real estate license. And even though the error was on their part, they've paid the fees and have been informed that none of them are refundable. Guess who's been presented with the bill? If I still worked for the company, they'd have paid for it. But since I'm not with them anymore, they expect to be reimbursed for all the fees. I now have a $500 bill sitting and waiting to be paid. And believe me, when you've been unemployed for 2 months, an unexpected bill for $500 is a huge blow.
-For the first time in my life, I've been having nightmares. Believe it or not, I've never had nightmares before. Now, though, it's like a nightly personal cinema, filled with horror, pain and despair. As much as I used to like sleep, it is no longer my friend.
I really don't know what to think most days. I feel like a failure and a loser because I can't get a decent job, while people I know with half my education make twice what I did. I'm worrying about things so much that I'm starting to have panic attacks. It just seems like nothing I do, or have ever done, is good enough. That I'm not good enough. No mate, no child, no job, and feeling like I'm sinking into depression.
And my friends have enough of their own drama that I'm not going to them for support. Besides, other than being a willing ear, there's not really anything that they can do, anyway. The only thing that keeps me slightly sane is remembering that I've had rough times before, and I've made it through. Not always whole or intact, but I've made it through.
-I'm still unemployed, and it's not fun anymore. Yeah, sure, it was luxurious for a while, being able to sleep in everyday and have an extended vacation. But now it's just starting to get depressing. Am I just not good enough for anyone to hire me? Rejection is not a pretty feeling.
-Through a baffling mish-mash of miscommunication, error and stupidity, the company that I used to work for paid for the renewal of my insurance (real estate license E&O) and membership to the Realtor's association. Even though I was supposed to have been released from the company 2 months ago, and am in the process of retiring my real estate license. And even though the error was on their part, they've paid the fees and have been informed that none of them are refundable. Guess who's been presented with the bill? If I still worked for the company, they'd have paid for it. But since I'm not with them anymore, they expect to be reimbursed for all the fees. I now have a $500 bill sitting and waiting to be paid. And believe me, when you've been unemployed for 2 months, an unexpected bill for $500 is a huge blow.
-For the first time in my life, I've been having nightmares. Believe it or not, I've never had nightmares before. Now, though, it's like a nightly personal cinema, filled with horror, pain and despair. As much as I used to like sleep, it is no longer my friend.
I really don't know what to think most days. I feel like a failure and a loser because I can't get a decent job, while people I know with half my education make twice what I did. I'm worrying about things so much that I'm starting to have panic attacks. It just seems like nothing I do, or have ever done, is good enough. That I'm not good enough. No mate, no child, no job, and feeling like I'm sinking into depression.
And my friends have enough of their own drama that I'm not going to them for support. Besides, other than being a willing ear, there's not really anything that they can do, anyway. The only thing that keeps me slightly sane is remembering that I've had rough times before, and I've made it through. Not always whole or intact, but I've made it through.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
A wasted cycle
Today= cd19 / probably 1dpo
This cycle has been really wacky, more like the cycles I had when I first started ovulating. Cm scant and inconclusive, no positive opk, no blaring/obvious ovulation pain. Despite all that, I'm fairly certain that I ovulated last night. My temp was up to nearly post-O range this morning, my ovary twinges have disappeared, and the scant cm is now non-existent.
I haven't felt this lost since the beginning, back in the days where I'm sure I drove "old-hands" crazy with my constant cries of, "Did I ovulate yet? I think I did. No, wait, maybe tomorrow?!?" After the first few months, I figured out my body and its signs, and knew what was up. This cycle has me stymied and depressed, because the signs didn't work right.
This sucks so hard, because I wasn't able to insem. because of various problems. So, my last medicated cycle (at least for a while, if not forever) is a bust. I chemically altered my body for nothing, as there is no chance whatsoever of pregnancy. It's bad enough when you miss a cycle because of medical problems or money issues, or things like that. But having taken meds, peed on sticks 3-4 times a day, played with my cm, and faithfully temp'ed, all to make the plan and timing work, well, I feel betrayed by my own body. The thesaurus in my head is temporary unavailable, so I'll just have to repeat: this sucks so hard.
This cycle has been really wacky, more like the cycles I had when I first started ovulating. Cm scant and inconclusive, no positive opk, no blaring/obvious ovulation pain. Despite all that, I'm fairly certain that I ovulated last night. My temp was up to nearly post-O range this morning, my ovary twinges have disappeared, and the scant cm is now non-existent.
I haven't felt this lost since the beginning, back in the days where I'm sure I drove "old-hands" crazy with my constant cries of, "Did I ovulate yet? I think I did. No, wait, maybe tomorrow?!?" After the first few months, I figured out my body and its signs, and knew what was up. This cycle has me stymied and depressed, because the signs didn't work right.
This sucks so hard, because I wasn't able to insem. because of various problems. So, my last medicated cycle (at least for a while, if not forever) is a bust. I chemically altered my body for nothing, as there is no chance whatsoever of pregnancy. It's bad enough when you miss a cycle because of medical problems or money issues, or things like that. But having taken meds, peed on sticks 3-4 times a day, played with my cm, and faithfully temp'ed, all to make the plan and timing work, well, I feel betrayed by my own body. The thesaurus in my head is temporary unavailable, so I'll just have to repeat: this sucks so hard.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Walgreens sucks
Despite the ridiculously high premium, I decided to keep my health insurance when my property sold (and I became unemployed). My paperwork is still being processed, so technically I don't have insurance right now. This sucks in a lot of ways, but I'm not too sussed because I know it's coming as soon as some ham-fisted idiot clicks the right keys at his computer.
What really has me pissed off is Walgreens. Since I lost my job at the end of July, I've had at least 3-4 refills done there, and every single time they're not ready for pickup on time. All because the insurance on file isn't valid anymore, so when they run me in the system, C*gna denies it.
I understood the first time it happened; they didn't know, and they were following their procedures. I patiently explained that I no longer worked for that company, no longer had insurance, and so would be a cash-paying customer until further notice. They were super nice, got my meds ready really fast, and I was out of there.
The second time it happened, I wasn't quite as patient while explaining, yet again, the situation. The third time I needed a refill, I got smart: I called the pharmacy ahead of time, explained AGAIN, asked that they do whatever kind of magic with the computer to "fix" the problem, and pretty-please go ahead and fill my script.
Yesterday I realized that I needed a refill, so I got online and placed my order. It was supposed to be ready at 5pm yesterday, but I didn't need it that urgently so I decided to wait until today to pick it up. I showed up at 1pm, and a sweet old grandma pharm. tech rifled through the little trays. When she got to the back, and she didn't pull anything out, I knew it had fricking happened again. I explained, she put the order in, and off I went to waste time while waiting.
I ended up strolling through the aisles of Walgreens for 45 minutes. 45 minutes. There just isn't enough interesting stuff at Walgreens to fill up 45 minutes. When they finally called my name on the intercom, I headed back to the pharm., only to get asked for the second time in this same visit, "Do you have any new insurance?" by the young woman who'd taken over when Grandma left on break (or wherever she disappeared) while she was ringing me up.
About to explode, I explained AGAIN. Young Woman looked abashed, and told me that my account hadn't been updated with that information, so they have to check. I asked, rather pointedly, how many times I had to tell them before they updated?!? By this point, I'd paid and had my meds in hand, so I just stood there and stared at her. She finally went over to the computer and started typing. When she finished, she said that she'd entered information, and that hopefully it would update and take care of the problem.
Hopefully? Do they not know how their system works? I am so irate. I know it was "only" 45 minutes, but it was my 45 minutes, and I hadn't planned on spending it in Walgreens. I sent a complaint to the company, so we'll see if anything comes of it.
What really has me pissed off is Walgreens. Since I lost my job at the end of July, I've had at least 3-4 refills done there, and every single time they're not ready for pickup on time. All because the insurance on file isn't valid anymore, so when they run me in the system, C*gna denies it.
I understood the first time it happened; they didn't know, and they were following their procedures. I patiently explained that I no longer worked for that company, no longer had insurance, and so would be a cash-paying customer until further notice. They were super nice, got my meds ready really fast, and I was out of there.
The second time it happened, I wasn't quite as patient while explaining, yet again, the situation. The third time I needed a refill, I got smart: I called the pharmacy ahead of time, explained AGAIN, asked that they do whatever kind of magic with the computer to "fix" the problem, and pretty-please go ahead and fill my script.
Yesterday I realized that I needed a refill, so I got online and placed my order. It was supposed to be ready at 5pm yesterday, but I didn't need it that urgently so I decided to wait until today to pick it up. I showed up at 1pm, and a sweet old grandma pharm. tech rifled through the little trays. When she got to the back, and she didn't pull anything out, I knew it had fricking happened again. I explained, she put the order in, and off I went to waste time while waiting.
I ended up strolling through the aisles of Walgreens for 45 minutes. 45 minutes. There just isn't enough interesting stuff at Walgreens to fill up 45 minutes. When they finally called my name on the intercom, I headed back to the pharm., only to get asked for the second time in this same visit, "Do you have any new insurance?" by the young woman who'd taken over when Grandma left on break (or wherever she disappeared) while she was ringing me up.
About to explode, I explained AGAIN. Young Woman looked abashed, and told me that my account hadn't been updated with that information, so they have to check. I asked, rather pointedly, how many times I had to tell them before they updated?!? By this point, I'd paid and had my meds in hand, so I just stood there and stared at her. She finally went over to the computer and started typing. When she finished, she said that she'd entered information, and that hopefully it would update and take care of the problem.
Hopefully? Do they not know how their system works? I am so irate. I know it was "only" 45 minutes, but it was my 45 minutes, and I hadn't planned on spending it in Walgreens. I sent a complaint to the company, so we'll see if anything comes of it.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Just stuff
There's so much going on, and very little of it has to do with me! Cali is starting her donor egg IVF cycle; Sarah is gearing up for another round of IVF; Babe is the TWW of her 1st IVF cycle; and C & S are killing me with the wait for their ultrasound results.
I, on the other hand, am doing nothing exciting. This past weekend was lovely; the 100+ temperatures dropped down into the 80s, and it was gorgeous. I actually sat in the shade, reading "1632", and got a little cold. Cold?!? Freakin' fantastic! Even though it's back up in the 90s this week, I got a glorious reminder that autumn is coming eventually. Which reminds me that the 5th Hallowchristgiving is coming up!
Before that, though, is a zombie-themed Halloween party. My group loves old B-movies, the worse the better, in our opinion. Many a Friday/Saturday evening has been spent with 8-10 people crammed in someone's living room, having "Bad Movie Night". It's a bit funny, actually, that I can watch something like "I Drink Your Blood", but have a problem watching modern horror movies.
Anyway, our love of old movies is being re-ignited with a zombie Halloween. I have no fricking idea of what I'm going to do about make-up; theatrical cosmetics is NOT my forte. Clothing & costume is no problem, but the make-up is going to be a bitch.
Can you tell that we take this stuff seriously, that I'm already thinking about Halloween 6 weeks early?
I, on the other hand, am doing nothing exciting. This past weekend was lovely; the 100+ temperatures dropped down into the 80s, and it was gorgeous. I actually sat in the shade, reading "1632", and got a little cold. Cold?!? Freakin' fantastic! Even though it's back up in the 90s this week, I got a glorious reminder that autumn is coming eventually. Which reminds me that the 5th Hallowchristgiving is coming up!
Before that, though, is a zombie-themed Halloween party. My group loves old B-movies, the worse the better, in our opinion. Many a Friday/Saturday evening has been spent with 8-10 people crammed in someone's living room, having "Bad Movie Night". It's a bit funny, actually, that I can watch something like "I Drink Your Blood", but have a problem watching modern horror movies.
Anyway, our love of old movies is being re-ignited with a zombie Halloween. I have no fricking idea of what I'm going to do about make-up; theatrical cosmetics is NOT my forte. Clothing & costume is no problem, but the make-up is going to be a bitch.
Can you tell that we take this stuff seriously, that I'm already thinking about Halloween 6 weeks early?
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Here we go again!
Depending on what happens, today is either going to be 16dpo, or cd1. Either way, though, this cycle is dead and just doesn't know when to stop. My lovely high LP temps are gone, and I'm back to my usual FP temps. And to top it off, I had a bout of horrendously painful cramping last night, while in the middle of a lovely sushi dinner with girlfriends. I ended up sucking it up as long as I could, but as soon as it was politely possible I got my check, paid, and left before dessert.
I know it's a case of "the grass is always greener", but sometimes I hate that I have such a long LP. I mean, I'll probably come on today, but still. I'm 16dpo, and I'm not even on any drugs. WTF?!? Even though I know better, since my temps have dropped to bargain-basement lows, having a long LP still engenders just a little bit of hope. Every day past 14, a tiny little flicker of that bastard hope lingers. Maybe I was mouth breathing, that's why my temps are low; surely they'll go back up tomorrow, right? I know better.
~*~*~*~*~
On a completely unrelated note, am I the only one who thinks its a bit odd, the way that a lot of married women have their husbands present for all their tests and appointments? I'm not talking about the big stuff. I mean, I know and understand that IF in a couple affects both of them, and it's great that the partners get involved and offer support. If I were married and going through IVF, sure, I'd want my husband there for ER and ET.
But I mean they try to have the hubbies there for everything. Consults, regular pelvic exams, follicular check u/s, bloodwork, HSGs, the whole kit and caboodle. I really think it's creepy. Maybe it's because I'm single, I don't know. But I've thought about it, trying to put myself into their situation... and I still don't think I'd want or need my theoretical-husband there while I just getting a pap smear.
~*~*~*~*~
I had to pause in my typing to go pee. Guess what? It's cd1.
I know it's a case of "the grass is always greener", but sometimes I hate that I have such a long LP. I mean, I'll probably come on today, but still. I'm 16dpo, and I'm not even on any drugs. WTF?!? Even though I know better, since my temps have dropped to bargain-basement lows, having a long LP still engenders just a little bit of hope. Every day past 14, a tiny little flicker of that bastard hope lingers. Maybe I was mouth breathing, that's why my temps are low; surely they'll go back up tomorrow, right? I know better.
~*~*~*~*~
On a completely unrelated note, am I the only one who thinks its a bit odd, the way that a lot of married women have their husbands present for all their tests and appointments? I'm not talking about the big stuff. I mean, I know and understand that IF in a couple affects both of them, and it's great that the partners get involved and offer support. If I were married and going through IVF, sure, I'd want my husband there for ER and ET.
But I mean they try to have the hubbies there for everything. Consults, regular pelvic exams, follicular check u/s, bloodwork, HSGs, the whole kit and caboodle. I really think it's creepy. Maybe it's because I'm single, I don't know. But I've thought about it, trying to put myself into their situation... and I still don't think I'd want or need my theoretical-husband there while I just getting a pap smear.
~*~*~*~*~
I had to pause in my typing to go pee. Guess what? It's cd1.
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