I had my HSG test this morning. There are theories that IVF is less successful if there is a blocked tube. Even though the tubes aren't utilized during IVF, it is thought that they may back up fluid into the uterus which can lead to a miscarriage. Therefore, I needed to have my remaining tube checked.
As of my last surgery it was still allowing some fluid through; it had scar tissue which made my doctor nervous about ectopic pregnancy risks, but it was technically still viable.
I was hoping it still would be today. Honestly, I just don’t like the idea of losing that tube. I know that with the damage to my ovaries combined with the damage to that one tube (my left one was removed my first surgery because of being completely blocked), the likelihood of me ever getting pregnant on my own is very low. I’m not counting on that chance at all (duh – I’m all about the IVF!) but there is something about knowing it is still there (even the vaguest of chances that one day I could wake up and be surprised to find myself pregnant!) that is comforting. I’m not ready to lose that last shred of hope for the future.
Thankfully, my friend Loo works at the hospital and is therefore on hand for tests, surgeries, and anytime I just find myself there because my body is broken! She gets oddly excited about these kinds of things – I’m pretty sure she would have sat in on my last surgery if someone would have let her!
So she was there to tag along, which helped lighten the mood and my tension right from the start.
We were seriously laughing from the very beginning. I think the nurse was surprised because this isn’t exactly a fun test, and Loo and I were just cracking up. The poor woman asked me if I was pregnant, and I kind of had to look at her like "seriously?" (although - my nurse called me yesterday just to tell me my pregnancy test came back negative. I had to laugh at her, but she told me she was actually kind of disappointed! Why do they even test me anymore? I keep telling them I'm not doing the deed, and it's not like any of us actually expect my insides to work even if I were - still, they continue to give me pregnancy tests everytime something new happens!)
Loo and I were talking about my IVF and I finally felt the need to turn to the nurse and say “By the way, we’re not together” only in that split second I realized that could come off wrong (especially if said nurse likes the ladies) so I then had to qualify with “not that that would be bad or anything – we’re just not like that.”
Awkward!
Fun and games were pretty much over as soon as I had to lie down and let them start sticking objects up my cootchie though.
This is how the test works: They insert a speculum in your cervix (just like a pap) and then they insert a catheter up to your uterus. Once there, they inflate a little balloon to hold the entire thing in place. Then they put the x-ray machine over your belly and release a contrast dye inside there while taking pictures.
Easy, right? Except my scar tissue made it more difficult than it should be to get the catheter in place. I was seriously sitting there sweating and squeezing poor Loo’s hand. It wasn’t even like it hurt so bad, it was just so uncomfortable to feel the pinching of her trying to make a path through the destruction.
Lovely.
Once everything was in place though, we were pretty good to go. The first thing the dye picked out right away was my uterus. You will be happy to know that all looks pretty good there! There is a little bit of endo in the one corner, but for the most part it is a decent looking triangle.
The entire screen kind of reminded me of one of those old school video games. You know, the ones that psychologists used to test people with back in the day on gigantic computer screens. Most psych students have had to see at least one or two videos in black and white depicting these old tests.
What do you mean you weren’t a psych student so you never saw those videos?
I think they’ve shown similar things on Lost too. Just think really old school.
That’s what this looked like. You could see the triangle (my uterus) the circle (the balloon) a long line (the catheter) and then – my tube, with fluid flowing through it!
WOO HOO!
Winner winner chicken dinner (where the heck does that come from and why do I think it every time something cool happens?!?) Someone has a viable tube ladies and gentlemen!
Don’t be jealous!
It doesn’t really change anything. It is still pretty scarred up and they would still advise me not to try to get pregnant naturally (although, when I talked to my dad he did tell me I should call the ex up and give it a whirl – my dad! You've got to love that fatherly advice!) But it does mean that I don’t have to lose the tube anytime soon, and that was very good news!
The entire test lasted all of 5 minutes. They pulled everything out and the nurse told me not to worry about leaking on the floor when I went to the bathroom to put my clothes back on. I had been warned about this leaking by AKD, and let me just tell you – there was no way I was going to allow that to happen! I’m sorry, but I’m not going to stand up and let all these cootchie juices fall to the floor and then let some poor nurse clean it up! I had thought about this. I had planned for this. I took the towel that was under me, shoved it right in between my legs like a diaper, and waddled to the bathroom with my tush on full display because I couldn’t hold the towel and my gown.
So worth it!
I think my nurse was pretty grateful too!
I did have to go and pick up a prescription to keep the tube from getting infected by the dye. How crazy would that be? I get a test to check for viability, find out it is good, and then the test itself leads to an infection that ruins it? No bueno!
While I was at the pharmacy, my fat butt may have picked up some Easter candy! Easter candy is my absolute favorite and I haven’t had any this year. I kind of felt like I deserved a reward (plus I was cramping post test and cramping usually equals candy in my world!) so I got two Cadbury Eggs and a little mini package of Peeps.
I decided Teeny's new diet can start after my birthday. It's only a week away, and I'm going to want a glass of wine and a bucket of cheese that night!
I'll be better after.
Then I came home, crawled into bed, “worked” from here the rest of the day, and devoured my candy.
Not too shabby!
I’ve got to admit, it feels good to have a test go right for once. I wouldn’t mind a few more just like that.
Only, maybe without so much vaginal leaking.
That was just gross.
ADSPACE
March 31, 2010
March 30, 2010
Sacrifice
Directly across the street from my acupuncture clinic is my favorite shoe store. Inside that shoe store is a brown pair of Dansko boots I have wanted for over year (to match the black pair I bought with my 2008 Christmas bonus – I have loved and nurtured those boots but they need friends for when I wear brown!) That pair of boots costs approximately what two weeks of acupuncture will cost me.
And that is sacrifice.
I saw Teeny today, and she is concerned about my kidneys. Apparently my kidney pulse is very low. The truth is, I’m not surprised. I mean I’m surprised my kidneys have a pulse of their own (who knew?), but I’m not surprised said pulse is low. I’ve been told there is a lot of endo on my kidneys. I’ve been told there is not much they can do about it without risking additional scar tissue (and when an organ is meant to filtrate, you don’t exactly want it hindered with scar tissue). I’ve been told it may or may not be something I need to worry about.
There is a reason I have to give a urine sample every time I step foot in my doctors office.
OK, so the full disclosure is that the reason for the urine cultures may also be because sometime last year I wound up in the hospital with a UTI that I discounted as endo for days until it was so bad that I was writhing in pain and peeing blood. It’s possible I haven’t been trusted to assess the state of my urinary tract ever since. I’ll give them that. I have a lot of scar tissue on my bladder and it has been uncomfortable for me to pee for at least 7 months – I honestly couldn’t tell the difference until it was really bad.
And I'm kind of a rock star when it comes to pain tolerance!
(yes, I am sickly proud of that)
The point is, I’ve known my kidneys are hot spots. Part of me has wondered about what that means for my future, but I’ve never heard of anyone who has had kidney failure from endo – so for the time being I’ve shoved it to the back of my mind. My dad is always telling me not to buy trouble, and I guess I just figure this is one of those issues it would be buying trouble for me to worry about. If my kidneys are going to fail at some point because of the damage caused by my endo, there’s not a whole lot I can do about it now. I’ll deal with it when it happens (if it happens), but in the meantime I’m just not going to waste a lot of time thinking about it.
But Teeny is worried about my kidney function during a pregnancy, and I can see her point there. We probably should worry about that.
Which is why I let her stick needles in the bottoms of my feet.
THE BOTTOMS OF MY FEET.
Even typing that right now made my toes curl.
Sacrifice.
She told me what she was going to do, and then she had me take a deep breath and cough to distract myself. It wasn’t as bad as I would have thought, but it still freaks me out to think about. I’m pretty good with needles, but needles in the bottoms of my feet? Not so cool.
Sacrifice.
We also talked about my diet. She is worried about my belly fat (and how great is that – I got called out on my belly fat by my acupuncturist today!) because belly fat produces estrogen. I had to point out the irony of that to her – I’ve never had belly fat in my life until I started on a drug that shut off all my estrogen, and now I have this lovely little reserve that is just hanging out around my mid section. My pant size hasn’t changed, the number on the scale has actually gone down, but I now have belly fat. No estrogen = belly fat = more estrogen. Wonderful.
So we’re going to work on getting rid of that belly fat before IVF time. I can get on board with that. I eat pretty healthy as it is, so there isn’t much I’m going to need to change. I do eat a lot of fruit – which I know is high in sugar. Teeny wants me to cut down to 2 servings a day, mostly berries if possible. I also am not a huge carb person, and what I do eat is always high fiber and multi grains; but she wants me to cut out anything other than whole grains if I can. I think I can do that. I’m going to pick up a book she recommended to get some new recipes though, since I’m just not sure how to make meals out of whole grains. I’m not too concerned though. Changing my diet feels like something I can do fairly easily right now. As a matter of fact, I’m going to pick up my first crab this weekend and try to figure out something to do with it. Apparently crab is good for stagnant blood conditions, which endometriosis is.
Sacrifice.
Other than that, Teeny was actually getting me really excited. She was talking to me about the treatments we’ll do up until IVF to get my body prepared, and then those we’ll do once I’m pregnant to get me to carry to term. She was talking about it like it will all be so possible; like we can totally make this work.
Like all it will take is a little bit of sacrifice for one really big reward.
And let me tell you; I can sacrifice.
And that is sacrifice.
I saw Teeny today, and she is concerned about my kidneys. Apparently my kidney pulse is very low. The truth is, I’m not surprised. I mean I’m surprised my kidneys have a pulse of their own (who knew?), but I’m not surprised said pulse is low. I’ve been told there is a lot of endo on my kidneys. I’ve been told there is not much they can do about it without risking additional scar tissue (and when an organ is meant to filtrate, you don’t exactly want it hindered with scar tissue). I’ve been told it may or may not be something I need to worry about.
There is a reason I have to give a urine sample every time I step foot in my doctors office.
OK, so the full disclosure is that the reason for the urine cultures may also be because sometime last year I wound up in the hospital with a UTI that I discounted as endo for days until it was so bad that I was writhing in pain and peeing blood. It’s possible I haven’t been trusted to assess the state of my urinary tract ever since. I’ll give them that. I have a lot of scar tissue on my bladder and it has been uncomfortable for me to pee for at least 7 months – I honestly couldn’t tell the difference until it was really bad.
And I'm kind of a rock star when it comes to pain tolerance!
(yes, I am sickly proud of that)
The point is, I’ve known my kidneys are hot spots. Part of me has wondered about what that means for my future, but I’ve never heard of anyone who has had kidney failure from endo – so for the time being I’ve shoved it to the back of my mind. My dad is always telling me not to buy trouble, and I guess I just figure this is one of those issues it would be buying trouble for me to worry about. If my kidneys are going to fail at some point because of the damage caused by my endo, there’s not a whole lot I can do about it now. I’ll deal with it when it happens (if it happens), but in the meantime I’m just not going to waste a lot of time thinking about it.
But Teeny is worried about my kidney function during a pregnancy, and I can see her point there. We probably should worry about that.
Which is why I let her stick needles in the bottoms of my feet.
THE BOTTOMS OF MY FEET.
Even typing that right now made my toes curl.
Sacrifice.
She told me what she was going to do, and then she had me take a deep breath and cough to distract myself. It wasn’t as bad as I would have thought, but it still freaks me out to think about. I’m pretty good with needles, but needles in the bottoms of my feet? Not so cool.
Sacrifice.
We also talked about my diet. She is worried about my belly fat (and how great is that – I got called out on my belly fat by my acupuncturist today!) because belly fat produces estrogen. I had to point out the irony of that to her – I’ve never had belly fat in my life until I started on a drug that shut off all my estrogen, and now I have this lovely little reserve that is just hanging out around my mid section. My pant size hasn’t changed, the number on the scale has actually gone down, but I now have belly fat. No estrogen = belly fat = more estrogen. Wonderful.
So we’re going to work on getting rid of that belly fat before IVF time. I can get on board with that. I eat pretty healthy as it is, so there isn’t much I’m going to need to change. I do eat a lot of fruit – which I know is high in sugar. Teeny wants me to cut down to 2 servings a day, mostly berries if possible. I also am not a huge carb person, and what I do eat is always high fiber and multi grains; but she wants me to cut out anything other than whole grains if I can. I think I can do that. I’m going to pick up a book she recommended to get some new recipes though, since I’m just not sure how to make meals out of whole grains. I’m not too concerned though. Changing my diet feels like something I can do fairly easily right now. As a matter of fact, I’m going to pick up my first crab this weekend and try to figure out something to do with it. Apparently crab is good for stagnant blood conditions, which endometriosis is.
Sacrifice.
Other than that, Teeny was actually getting me really excited. She was talking to me about the treatments we’ll do up until IVF to get my body prepared, and then those we’ll do once I’m pregnant to get me to carry to term. She was talking about it like it will all be so possible; like we can totally make this work.
Like all it will take is a little bit of sacrifice for one really big reward.
And let me tell you; I can sacrifice.
March 29, 2010
And Then There Was That
I had an incredible offer yesterday. A very good friend of mine called to tell me that her brother wanted to be my sperm donor – that he was 100% sure he wanted to do this for me.
And I was floored.
Floored that this man who really doesn’t know me at all (we met once a few weeks ago) would have such an amazing heart that he would want to help me in this incredible way. He wasn’t looking to get laid or to infringe upon my life in any way; he just wanted to help.
And let me be clear; this is a beautiful family. Those would be some wonderful genes to pass on, and there is something incredibly tempting about tying myself to this big, beautiful, loving family in this way. Some part of me that thinks it would give my baby an extended family that would love and adore it no matter what the circumstances. But…
I said “no”.
For so many reasons. I have said from the beginning that I don’t want to know my donor unless it is someone I see myself having a future with. I just don’t want to have to explain to my child one day that I know their father, but that he isn’t a part of their lives for whatever reason. Even if he did want to be a part of the child’s life (which I think may have been the case at least to some extent here), I want to be able to reserve that space for the man who comes into my life later. I want that man to be able to step into the father role without stepping on anyone’s toes.
I don't know if that makes me selfish or smart, but I know it is something I feel strongly about. I believe with all my heart that that man will be making an appearance - I don't want his transition into our lives to be any more difficult than it has to be.
I just think the whole thing becomes so much more complicated when I know my donor.
That said – I am still blown away at the offer. I never expected men to connect to my story at all. I knew women on some visceral level would all understand (even the ones who ignorantly tell me I’m so young [without knowing the full extent of my damage] or point out that they would just adopt if they were me [without recognizing that their story is not mine – or that that statement is very easy to make when you’ve never actually been faced with the choice] – even them I believe to understand), but I never expected most men to get it. I figured the vast majority of the male species would determine I was a nut case upon hearing what I am attempting. I certainly didn’t think any of them (at least not the ones who haven’t known me for years) would ever care enough about any of it to want to help.
Something about knowing that some men actually do get it is kind of comforting. It tells me that there are men like that out there – men who are going to be able to step into that role with ease when the time comes. Men who are going to understand. Men who are going to care.
And isn’t that nice to imagine? That a man might be out there just for me who is going to get all of this and isn’t going to be the least bit put off or freaked out when the day comes that we do meet and I have to explain my story.
In the meantime though, I still have to find the man to provide the sperm.
I had my blood drawn at my appointment on Thursday to find out my blood type, but I left in such a daze I never asked what it was. I called today and was told that I am A+; a good thing because it means I don’t need to worry about RH status when looking at donors.
I came home tonight determined to really delve into the sperm banks. I immediately got frustrated. I am not great with new interfaces, and when things aren't aesthetically appealing and easy for me to figure out I get overwhelmed. The first 3 banks I looked at had confusing search results and I was annoyed. I wanted this to be like internet dating – not like this big jumbled mesh of donors that I couldn’t keep straight. I think I finally settled on California Cryobank. Not because they give celebrity look-alikes to their donors (although, not going to lie – I don’t hate that feature!) but because I was able to figure out their search functions and donor profiles without a lot of fuss. Their setup just seemed more intuitive to me.
Still – I’m realizing this is going to be one of those tasks that is going to take me all day one day to dig through and figure out. There is just so much information and I’m not entirely sure where to start.
There was 1 donor who caught my eye though. 6’, medium skin tone, lean build, and green eyes (yes – green eyes was one of my prerequisites!) The staff described him as a glass half full personality who is hard working with a great sense of humor – all things I like. They also said he looked like Dave Annable and Mike Lombardi, which are both look a likes I can get on board with!
Even after finding one who looked like he met my basic requirements though - I was frustrated. There is a lot more I need to put into this and I was getting overwhelmed trying to figure it all out tonight.
And then I got an e-mail.
An e-mail from the family I donated my eggs to.
An e-mail that stopped me in my tracks and forced me to reign in the tears.
An e-mail that means the world to me.
I started to post the whole thing here, but honestly it just doesn’t feel like mine to post. I did want to share one excerpt though, just because it had my heart racing – just because it filled me up with so much more drive and ambition for this journey – so much more love for my babies to be. This is what the mother of the children I helped create once upon a time wrote:
I can tell by the babies we have that you are a spectacularly special lady. I dearly want to tell you how much you mean to us; how often I think of you and your wonderful spirit. Please know that we are thrilled to pieces with our little girl and little boy. They are the joy of our life and the most amazing little beings that we could ever imagine. Aside from their beautiful little souls, they are supremely gorgeous as well. People routinely remark about how beautiful and calm they are. Recently, after an outing to the grocery store, they had captivated a large number of people at the checkout, smiling and waving and attracting all kinds of attention. Afterward, one man remarked that he found them extraordinarily captivating and that he noticed they caught the eye of everyone around them. He finished by saying that they had a special gift, one that would serve them well in life.
If you wonder who these little babies are, I can tell you that our little boy is outgoing and social. When we take our morning walk, he loves to stop at the neighborhood school and watch the kids at play – and he can’t wait to join them! He enjoys climbing and loves to show you how fast he can run and how strong he is. Our little girl is feminine and pretty. She loves to be with me and is usually at my side. Ask her for a kiss and take your face in her hands and give you one!
I was getting frustrated. Even over the last few days I was wondering if this was really going to happen; if I should give up hope before allowing my heart to break.
And then I got that – when I needed it most.
A reminder of what I have to gain if I keep pushing forward – if I keep fighting.
And it will be a fight that is so worth it in the end.
And I was floored.
Floored that this man who really doesn’t know me at all (we met once a few weeks ago) would have such an amazing heart that he would want to help me in this incredible way. He wasn’t looking to get laid or to infringe upon my life in any way; he just wanted to help.
And let me be clear; this is a beautiful family. Those would be some wonderful genes to pass on, and there is something incredibly tempting about tying myself to this big, beautiful, loving family in this way. Some part of me that thinks it would give my baby an extended family that would love and adore it no matter what the circumstances. But…
I said “no”.
For so many reasons. I have said from the beginning that I don’t want to know my donor unless it is someone I see myself having a future with. I just don’t want to have to explain to my child one day that I know their father, but that he isn’t a part of their lives for whatever reason. Even if he did want to be a part of the child’s life (which I think may have been the case at least to some extent here), I want to be able to reserve that space for the man who comes into my life later. I want that man to be able to step into the father role without stepping on anyone’s toes.
I don't know if that makes me selfish or smart, but I know it is something I feel strongly about. I believe with all my heart that that man will be making an appearance - I don't want his transition into our lives to be any more difficult than it has to be.
I just think the whole thing becomes so much more complicated when I know my donor.
That said – I am still blown away at the offer. I never expected men to connect to my story at all. I knew women on some visceral level would all understand (even the ones who ignorantly tell me I’m so young [without knowing the full extent of my damage] or point out that they would just adopt if they were me [without recognizing that their story is not mine – or that that statement is very easy to make when you’ve never actually been faced with the choice] – even them I believe to understand), but I never expected most men to get it. I figured the vast majority of the male species would determine I was a nut case upon hearing what I am attempting. I certainly didn’t think any of them (at least not the ones who haven’t known me for years) would ever care enough about any of it to want to help.
Something about knowing that some men actually do get it is kind of comforting. It tells me that there are men like that out there – men who are going to be able to step into that role with ease when the time comes. Men who are going to understand. Men who are going to care.
And isn’t that nice to imagine? That a man might be out there just for me who is going to get all of this and isn’t going to be the least bit put off or freaked out when the day comes that we do meet and I have to explain my story.
In the meantime though, I still have to find the man to provide the sperm.
I had my blood drawn at my appointment on Thursday to find out my blood type, but I left in such a daze I never asked what it was. I called today and was told that I am A+; a good thing because it means I don’t need to worry about RH status when looking at donors.
I came home tonight determined to really delve into the sperm banks. I immediately got frustrated. I am not great with new interfaces, and when things aren't aesthetically appealing and easy for me to figure out I get overwhelmed. The first 3 banks I looked at had confusing search results and I was annoyed. I wanted this to be like internet dating – not like this big jumbled mesh of donors that I couldn’t keep straight. I think I finally settled on California Cryobank. Not because they give celebrity look-alikes to their donors (although, not going to lie – I don’t hate that feature!) but because I was able to figure out their search functions and donor profiles without a lot of fuss. Their setup just seemed more intuitive to me.
Still – I’m realizing this is going to be one of those tasks that is going to take me all day one day to dig through and figure out. There is just so much information and I’m not entirely sure where to start.
There was 1 donor who caught my eye though. 6’, medium skin tone, lean build, and green eyes (yes – green eyes was one of my prerequisites!) The staff described him as a glass half full personality who is hard working with a great sense of humor – all things I like. They also said he looked like Dave Annable and Mike Lombardi, which are both look a likes I can get on board with!
Even after finding one who looked like he met my basic requirements though - I was frustrated. There is a lot more I need to put into this and I was getting overwhelmed trying to figure it all out tonight.
And then I got an e-mail.
An e-mail from the family I donated my eggs to.
An e-mail that stopped me in my tracks and forced me to reign in the tears.
An e-mail that means the world to me.
I started to post the whole thing here, but honestly it just doesn’t feel like mine to post. I did want to share one excerpt though, just because it had my heart racing – just because it filled me up with so much more drive and ambition for this journey – so much more love for my babies to be. This is what the mother of the children I helped create once upon a time wrote:
I can tell by the babies we have that you are a spectacularly special lady. I dearly want to tell you how much you mean to us; how often I think of you and your wonderful spirit. Please know that we are thrilled to pieces with our little girl and little boy. They are the joy of our life and the most amazing little beings that we could ever imagine. Aside from their beautiful little souls, they are supremely gorgeous as well. People routinely remark about how beautiful and calm they are. Recently, after an outing to the grocery store, they had captivated a large number of people at the checkout, smiling and waving and attracting all kinds of attention. Afterward, one man remarked that he found them extraordinarily captivating and that he noticed they caught the eye of everyone around them. He finished by saying that they had a special gift, one that would serve them well in life.
If you wonder who these little babies are, I can tell you that our little boy is outgoing and social. When we take our morning walk, he loves to stop at the neighborhood school and watch the kids at play – and he can’t wait to join them! He enjoys climbing and loves to show you how fast he can run and how strong he is. Our little girl is feminine and pretty. She loves to be with me and is usually at my side. Ask her for a kiss and take your face in her hands and give you one!
I was getting frustrated. Even over the last few days I was wondering if this was really going to happen; if I should give up hope before allowing my heart to break.
And then I got that – when I needed it most.
A reminder of what I have to gain if I keep pushing forward – if I keep fighting.
And it will be a fight that is so worth it in the end.
March 28, 2010
To Be Healed
I’ve been thinking a lot about healing lately; about the miracles attested to God involving the healing of someone’s physical body. The kind of healing that people are either all on board to talk about and praise or that they shrink back from and judge with cynicism and mistrust.
Is it OK if I admit that I fall somewhere in between those reactions?
I was ecstatic to make a new friend at church last week. I usually sit by myself, saying hello to the few people I know and then sitting back and admiring all the families that are surrounding me. I rarely even notice anyone else sitting by themselves. Last week though, I noticed a girl my age sitting alone and I went very outside of my comfort zone to go and sit next to her. We started talking, and I think I have a new church buddy!
Anyway, this week when my endo came up she told me that God had healed her of endo. She told me that doctors had told her that she was at the point of needing to get pregnant or have a hysterectomy, and that instead of either she had turned to God – because he was the best doctor there was.
And I was skeptical. She hasn't seen a doctor since and I actually found myself wondering if she has really been healed, or if she just has no idea what the state of her insides are and has simply learned to ignore the pain. I questioned whether God really wants us to be so irresponsible when it comes to our own healing. Whether He really wants us to walk away from medical healing and place it all in His hands - what if His healing is meant to come from the miracle of medicine?
Of course, I was also wondering what the chances were that my new friend would be someone who believes she has been miraculously healed of endo at a time when I have been having all these questions anyway. And it's not like medical interventions have done a whole lot of good for me. In fact, I have pretty much defied and mystified modern medicine.
It is not that I don’t believe that God is capable of healing – of course I believe He is. I believe that He is capable of miracles and wonders beyond anything anyone on this earth could ever imagine.
It’s just that I don’t understand the concept of healing at its simplest level. I don’t understand the “why”. If God wanted to heal, I do not understand why He would allow disease or injury to happen in the first place. If there is a lesson to be learned, I do not understand how that lesson is served in healing.
And sometimes I think people attribute healing where they shouldn’t.
Still, I have heard amazing stories. In my own congregation there is a little boy with a severe hand defect who miraculously was able to start moving his fingers during worship service a few months ago. His healing has not reverted back and his Doctors call the change nothing short of a miracle.
And I believe that healing was God.
I do not believe that God wants to heal me though, and maybe that is where my block to the idea comes in. When I first started hearing about miraculous healings, of course I prayed. Of course I begged to be healed and to have an end to this awful disease. Of course I wanted it to be possible.
And the answer I unequivocally believe I got was “No.”
I honestly believe that God told me "no". That He told me to suck it up and endure, because He has other plans for me.
When people tell me they want to pray for healing for me now, I want to tell them not to waste their time. I want to tell them that God doesn’t intend on healing me. I want to ask them to pray for strength and wisdom for me. I want to ask them to pray for the ability to persevere through the pain and recognize the lessons I am meant to learn.
But I don’t, because it would be rude to tell someone how to pray - especially someone who is asking to pray for me.
Still, I do not believe that God has healing in mind for me. I’m not angry over that, nor am I hurt that I don’t get to be one of the chosen few who gets to experience a miracle of that magnitude. In truth, I would much rather God heal someone who is suffering from something worse than I am before turning His attention to me. Not that there isn’t suffering to my endo because there is, but I am not deluded enough to believe that my suffering surpasses all else. I know I am far better off than many other people.
And I know God has lessons for me buried in all of this. I know there is a purpose beyond what I can understand.
I know healing is not in the works.
If we are being truthful, I have known from the moment this began that it would be a painful and often even crippling journey. Even before I had answers as to what was wrong, I have known that there would be no early exit and that I would have to fight this disease for a long time. I have known that I would continue to be a rare case, and while I have hoped for better; there has been a voice whispering in my ear that I should prepare for the worst.
Sometimes I think God speaks to us and we ignore it because we want to believe He has better planned for us. We want to believe He will pick us up and carry us through the challenges, but that isn’t a promise that was ever made. We were told there would be challenges we would have to endure on this earth – that it wouldn’t all be smooth sailing and happy times. I think God tries to prepare us for the hard times and warn us when they are coming, but if we are so busy asking him to heal us and get us through the hard times; we may not hear those warnings.
Further, I think part of me has always feared that I would never birth a child. Even before my struggle with endo, I think there was always a voice in my head telling me infertility was something I would have to deal with in my life. I think it is part of the reason I was so driven to donate my eggs; because part of me knew it was a struggle I too would have to endure. I felt for those women in a way maybe I shouldn’t have without knowing their struggles. I think it’s because I knew - I knew that one day I would understand. When I donated my eggs there were a battery of tests to assess my fertility, and I was actually fearful of the results. I had no reason to think anything would be wrong with me, but I was strangely relieved (and even surprised) when I was told that I was a perfect donor. Why would I have felt that way unless part of me knew that some day there would be issues?
Even now, I am wary of what the future holds as there is a voice in my head that is telling me to prepare myself for the fact that I will not be able to achieve a successful pregnancy. That voice has been there from the beginning. It has been there telling me that I may never have this dream. I also know that the same voice is urging me to try – to push forward and be able to say at the end that at least I did everything I could. I want to believe with all my heart that the voice is wrong (and I do pray often to God to allow me this one gift – not healing, but a baby growing and thriving inside of me), but sometimes I wonder if it isn’t preparing me. If it isn’t warning me not to get my hopes up too high, because there is still disappointment in my future.
I believe that God can heal, and I believe that He often does, but I also believe that sometimes we have to accept that we don’t always know what is best. Sometimes we have to understand that there are blessings even in the lowest of lows. There is a plan, and it isn’t for us to understand. I don’t often pray for healing for myself because… I don’t believe it is part of that plan. I hope that makes sense, and that I don’t come off sounding like a total loon! I would love healing. I would love to go to the doctor tomorrow and hear them gasp in shock as they see all signs of endo and scarring gone. I would love it, but that voice is telling me not to expect it.
Is that voice God? Warning me to prepare myself and be ready for the worst? Or is it my own psyche – telling me not to believe?
I want nothing more than to believe that there is a baby at the end of this journey for me, and I believe wholeheartedly that I am supposed to try – that God knows I need to try. I also believe that if I am not meant to conceive, I will not conceive. I hope (I pray) that God has the same outcome in mind that I do, but I often wonder about the voice in my head.
At the end of the day there are no guarantees and there will be many struggles in this life that we are not meant to understand. I am skeptical of healing because I wonder if it doesn’t discount the plan. I wonder if it doesn’t leave people wondering “why them and not me?” I wonder if people don’t get so caught up in the quest for healing, that they fail to see the overall lesson.
I do not know what the future holds, but I do know it is in God’s hands. I know that if I am not meant to conceive, I won’t. It pains me to even think of that, but I know it to be true.
I don’t know whether or not to trust the voice in my head that is telling me none of this is going to work. I’ve been pushing it to the back of my brain for so long now, that I’m beginning to wonder if it isn’t a warning I’m meant to heed.
I know I am supposed to try, and that there is hope in the trying, but I would be lying if I said there wasn’t part of me that didn’t think it was going to work. Just as there is part of me that doesn’t believe healing is in my future.
Is that God whispering in my ear, or something else entirely?
Is it OK if I admit that I fall somewhere in between those reactions?
I was ecstatic to make a new friend at church last week. I usually sit by myself, saying hello to the few people I know and then sitting back and admiring all the families that are surrounding me. I rarely even notice anyone else sitting by themselves. Last week though, I noticed a girl my age sitting alone and I went very outside of my comfort zone to go and sit next to her. We started talking, and I think I have a new church buddy!
Anyway, this week when my endo came up she told me that God had healed her of endo. She told me that doctors had told her that she was at the point of needing to get pregnant or have a hysterectomy, and that instead of either she had turned to God – because he was the best doctor there was.
And I was skeptical. She hasn't seen a doctor since and I actually found myself wondering if she has really been healed, or if she just has no idea what the state of her insides are and has simply learned to ignore the pain. I questioned whether God really wants us to be so irresponsible when it comes to our own healing. Whether He really wants us to walk away from medical healing and place it all in His hands - what if His healing is meant to come from the miracle of medicine?
Of course, I was also wondering what the chances were that my new friend would be someone who believes she has been miraculously healed of endo at a time when I have been having all these questions anyway. And it's not like medical interventions have done a whole lot of good for me. In fact, I have pretty much defied and mystified modern medicine.
It is not that I don’t believe that God is capable of healing – of course I believe He is. I believe that He is capable of miracles and wonders beyond anything anyone on this earth could ever imagine.
It’s just that I don’t understand the concept of healing at its simplest level. I don’t understand the “why”. If God wanted to heal, I do not understand why He would allow disease or injury to happen in the first place. If there is a lesson to be learned, I do not understand how that lesson is served in healing.
And sometimes I think people attribute healing where they shouldn’t.
Still, I have heard amazing stories. In my own congregation there is a little boy with a severe hand defect who miraculously was able to start moving his fingers during worship service a few months ago. His healing has not reverted back and his Doctors call the change nothing short of a miracle.
And I believe that healing was God.
I do not believe that God wants to heal me though, and maybe that is where my block to the idea comes in. When I first started hearing about miraculous healings, of course I prayed. Of course I begged to be healed and to have an end to this awful disease. Of course I wanted it to be possible.
And the answer I unequivocally believe I got was “No.”
I honestly believe that God told me "no". That He told me to suck it up and endure, because He has other plans for me.
When people tell me they want to pray for healing for me now, I want to tell them not to waste their time. I want to tell them that God doesn’t intend on healing me. I want to ask them to pray for strength and wisdom for me. I want to ask them to pray for the ability to persevere through the pain and recognize the lessons I am meant to learn.
But I don’t, because it would be rude to tell someone how to pray - especially someone who is asking to pray for me.
Still, I do not believe that God has healing in mind for me. I’m not angry over that, nor am I hurt that I don’t get to be one of the chosen few who gets to experience a miracle of that magnitude. In truth, I would much rather God heal someone who is suffering from something worse than I am before turning His attention to me. Not that there isn’t suffering to my endo because there is, but I am not deluded enough to believe that my suffering surpasses all else. I know I am far better off than many other people.
And I know God has lessons for me buried in all of this. I know there is a purpose beyond what I can understand.
I know healing is not in the works.
If we are being truthful, I have known from the moment this began that it would be a painful and often even crippling journey. Even before I had answers as to what was wrong, I have known that there would be no early exit and that I would have to fight this disease for a long time. I have known that I would continue to be a rare case, and while I have hoped for better; there has been a voice whispering in my ear that I should prepare for the worst.
Sometimes I think God speaks to us and we ignore it because we want to believe He has better planned for us. We want to believe He will pick us up and carry us through the challenges, but that isn’t a promise that was ever made. We were told there would be challenges we would have to endure on this earth – that it wouldn’t all be smooth sailing and happy times. I think God tries to prepare us for the hard times and warn us when they are coming, but if we are so busy asking him to heal us and get us through the hard times; we may not hear those warnings.
Further, I think part of me has always feared that I would never birth a child. Even before my struggle with endo, I think there was always a voice in my head telling me infertility was something I would have to deal with in my life. I think it is part of the reason I was so driven to donate my eggs; because part of me knew it was a struggle I too would have to endure. I felt for those women in a way maybe I shouldn’t have without knowing their struggles. I think it’s because I knew - I knew that one day I would understand. When I donated my eggs there were a battery of tests to assess my fertility, and I was actually fearful of the results. I had no reason to think anything would be wrong with me, but I was strangely relieved (and even surprised) when I was told that I was a perfect donor. Why would I have felt that way unless part of me knew that some day there would be issues?
Even now, I am wary of what the future holds as there is a voice in my head that is telling me to prepare myself for the fact that I will not be able to achieve a successful pregnancy. That voice has been there from the beginning. It has been there telling me that I may never have this dream. I also know that the same voice is urging me to try – to push forward and be able to say at the end that at least I did everything I could. I want to believe with all my heart that the voice is wrong (and I do pray often to God to allow me this one gift – not healing, but a baby growing and thriving inside of me), but sometimes I wonder if it isn’t preparing me. If it isn’t warning me not to get my hopes up too high, because there is still disappointment in my future.
I believe that God can heal, and I believe that He often does, but I also believe that sometimes we have to accept that we don’t always know what is best. Sometimes we have to understand that there are blessings even in the lowest of lows. There is a plan, and it isn’t for us to understand. I don’t often pray for healing for myself because… I don’t believe it is part of that plan. I hope that makes sense, and that I don’t come off sounding like a total loon! I would love healing. I would love to go to the doctor tomorrow and hear them gasp in shock as they see all signs of endo and scarring gone. I would love it, but that voice is telling me not to expect it.
Is that voice God? Warning me to prepare myself and be ready for the worst? Or is it my own psyche – telling me not to believe?
I want nothing more than to believe that there is a baby at the end of this journey for me, and I believe wholeheartedly that I am supposed to try – that God knows I need to try. I also believe that if I am not meant to conceive, I will not conceive. I hope (I pray) that God has the same outcome in mind that I do, but I often wonder about the voice in my head.
At the end of the day there are no guarantees and there will be many struggles in this life that we are not meant to understand. I am skeptical of healing because I wonder if it doesn’t discount the plan. I wonder if it doesn’t leave people wondering “why them and not me?” I wonder if people don’t get so caught up in the quest for healing, that they fail to see the overall lesson.
I do not know what the future holds, but I do know it is in God’s hands. I know that if I am not meant to conceive, I won’t. It pains me to even think of that, but I know it to be true.
I don’t know whether or not to trust the voice in my head that is telling me none of this is going to work. I’ve been pushing it to the back of my brain for so long now, that I’m beginning to wonder if it isn’t a warning I’m meant to heed.
I know I am supposed to try, and that there is hope in the trying, but I would be lying if I said there wasn’t part of me that didn’t think it was going to work. Just as there is part of me that doesn’t believe healing is in my future.
Is that God whispering in my ear, or something else entirely?
March 27, 2010
I Wish For Love
For as long as I can remember, whenever a clock has struck 11:11; I have wished for love. Long before I thought I was ready for a relationship, and even throughout my quest baby – at 11:11 I have wished for love. I’ve still prayed for a baby, and my sole focus has been thrown in that direction, but my wishes? My wishes have been for love.
I’m not sure why my wish hasn’t changed, even in light of my new priorities; even as all of my prayers have. It might have something to do with the fact that I feel that right now (and very possibly only right now) a baby is obtainable if all the pieces line up just right, and so that is where I would like God directing his attention. Love on the other hand still seems mystical to me – it still seems like something I don’t quite understand and therefore may never truly have.
I have always had a feeling that it was possible I would be alone for most of my life. It’s not that I thought I couldn’t get a man (because, I can get a man!), it was just more that I wasn’t sure I would ever find one who I was willing to give up part of my life to; even if I did find him, I wasn’t sure I would know how to make it work.
(community discussion: What do YOU wish for?)
About 2 years ago I told my friends that I wanted to get married on November 11th, 2011. I swore that was the date – the one I would always be able to celebrate my love on.
There is still time. 11/11/11 is still a ways away.
I looked at the clock today at 11:11; I wished for love. I’m not giving up on that wish.
I may be doing things completely backwards right now, and Mr. Wonderful may have to deal with the results of my choices in the future, but he’s out there – and he is going to make an amazing dad.
Because I wished for him.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P27MPi3ZhCg
I’m not sure why my wish hasn’t changed, even in light of my new priorities; even as all of my prayers have. It might have something to do with the fact that I feel that right now (and very possibly only right now) a baby is obtainable if all the pieces line up just right, and so that is where I would like God directing his attention. Love on the other hand still seems mystical to me – it still seems like something I don’t quite understand and therefore may never truly have.
I have always had a feeling that it was possible I would be alone for most of my life. It’s not that I thought I couldn’t get a man (because, I can get a man!), it was just more that I wasn’t sure I would ever find one who I was willing to give up part of my life to; even if I did find him, I wasn’t sure I would know how to make it work.
(community discussion: What do YOU wish for?)
About 2 years ago I told my friends that I wanted to get married on November 11th, 2011. I swore that was the date – the one I would always be able to celebrate my love on.
There is still time. 11/11/11 is still a ways away.
I looked at the clock today at 11:11; I wished for love. I’m not giving up on that wish.
I may be doing things completely backwards right now, and Mr. Wonderful may have to deal with the results of my choices in the future, but he’s out there – and he is going to make an amazing dad.
Because I wished for him.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P27MPi3ZhCg
March 26, 2010
An Ending That Isn't Over
I’ve been so caught up in the medical news the last two days that I realized I completely forgot to update everyone on the end of my bible study!
The truth is that the last two weeks I have definitely felt stalled on the spiritual front. It’s been frustrating because there was a moment there when I was feeling so spoken to and so driven, and then suddenly it was like the reception was cut off. I almost didn’t even do this last week of the study – I kind of thought it would be better to save it until I had that push again.
I did it anyway though, just so that I could say I had.
There were no great revelations. It was more or less a wrap up of the last 12 weeks and I didn’t get anything earth shattering out of it.
I never have liked review work!
I was feeling kind of let down by the whole thing. Like there was supposed to be this huge transformation at the end of this, and I had somehow exited too early and missed out.
But then I looked back on the very first post I wrote about this bible study, and I kind of caught my breath. Here is what I wrote about the strongholds I wanted to work on:
First of all, I am not questioning myself nearly as much. Every step closer I take to becoming a mother, I become more confident and more sure that this is the right path. I set goals for myself and I have made real progress towards those goals - I haven't given up. I am proud of myself and I have actually become my own best cheerleader. I am letting go of that self doubt, and I didn’t even realize it.
And as far as fear? I am here to tell you I am kicking fears tushy! I have been a huge worrier my entire life, and while I am not about to claim that I have given up my worries (I am not sure that will ever happen!) I have certainly handed so many of them over to Him. I used to be someone who would lie awake at night fretting about the drama of the hour. Now I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow (and I don't even think it's just because I'm so tired!) – there are no worries keeping me awake or destroying my days. I may be anxious over certain aspects of my life right now, but I am certainly not allowing that fear to take me over. I am facing it head on – knowing full well that He is by my side and guiding me. Even in light of recent events, I haven't allowed fear to consume me. I have faith that He knows what is best for me right now and that all of this will serve a purpose. I have let the fear go and the faith take over.
When I read about my own rage I was caught off guard. I remember feeling that way, but... I wouldn’t even begin to use the word rage anymore. That hurt is surely still there, but it is now a different word. A less abrasive word. A less damaging connotation. I realized the other day that I haven’t allowed myself to get bristled up over my past in quite some time. It wasn’t even a conscious effort to let it go so much as a supernatural eraser that has slowly been clearing out my heart. I wouldn’t even have really noticed had it not been for being able to see the anger in my own words from just 3 months ago. I am letting it go. It isn't hurting me anymore. For the first time in my life I feel like I am moving on from the past and embracing the future.
The walls are a bit trickier. I would like to say I have torn them all down, but they are still surrounding me and protecting. I want to tear them down, and I believe I will be able to when the time is right – I just may not be there yet. Or it may be more of a brick at a time kind of project rather than a full on demolition. The fact is though, they no longer seem as daunting to me; I no longer think they are insurmountable. When the time comes, those walls are going to come crashing down.
Regardless, I had been feeling as though I didn’t get out of this last 3 months what I had wanted to get until I re-read my original post. There have been changes and my heart has been healing – almost without my even noticing. I have been breaking free, and while I may not yet be entirely free – it is a very real work in progress.
I forget sometimes that this journey is not like any other I have ever taken. I tend to like to see instantaneous results to my endeavors; I like to know my hard work is paying off and I am nearing the end. I spoke to a good friend of mine today though, and he was explaining to me a new spiritual path he is on. I have always seen him as extremely religious, in fact; I’ve always seen him as the end of the line as far as the path to Christ is concerned. When he was telling me about the changes that God has been making in his heart lately though, it kind of hit me that this is a journey that won’t end until we are standing in His presence at the kingdom of Heaven. There will be peaks and valleys; moments in time when we feel surrounded by his warmth and those when we will feel as though He isn’t even within reach. He is always within reach, but sometimes there are lessons we will need to learn on our own. No one ever stops progressing or growing on this journey, and there is no end goal to be reached – at least not in this life.
I felt renewed faith in that; in the knowledge that my journey has not stalled, it is just taking a little breather before the next peak.
And if all goes well in the land of baby making – it is going to be one heck of peak.
The truth is that the last two weeks I have definitely felt stalled on the spiritual front. It’s been frustrating because there was a moment there when I was feeling so spoken to and so driven, and then suddenly it was like the reception was cut off. I almost didn’t even do this last week of the study – I kind of thought it would be better to save it until I had that push again.
I did it anyway though, just so that I could say I had.
There were no great revelations. It was more or less a wrap up of the last 12 weeks and I didn’t get anything earth shattering out of it.
I never have liked review work!
I was feeling kind of let down by the whole thing. Like there was supposed to be this huge transformation at the end of this, and I had somehow exited too early and missed out.
But then I looked back on the very first post I wrote about this bible study, and I kind of caught my breath. Here is what I wrote about the strongholds I wanted to work on:
- Self-consciousness/self-loathing – I question myself, and my abilities; all of the time. I know what I am capable of; I know what I have accomplished. Still, time after time I find myself worrying about all the mistakes I could make, or of all the ways in which I am just not enough.
- Fear – of everything. Fear of failure. Fear of making the wrong decisions. Fear of letting people down. There are days when I am crippled by fear.
- Rage – over my past, and the childhood of which I often feel I was robbed. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned how to hide or tone-down this rage much better, but I still hold onto it; I still shelter it deep down in my heart. I harbor an anger for the people who let me down and didn’t protect me, and I stubbornly refuse to let it go for fear that if I let it go, that will mean it never happened. And it did happen. It happened, and it broke me down in so many ways, but it also shaped me and the woman I became. Sometimes I have a hard time remembering that.
- Walls – that I built up all around myself, and that define my inability to let anyone in, to let anyone love me, or to let anyone ever even consider taking care of me... ever. I have slowly broken down some of these walls, but there is still (and possibly always will be) a barrier between the outside world and my heart.
First of all, I am not questioning myself nearly as much. Every step closer I take to becoming a mother, I become more confident and more sure that this is the right path. I set goals for myself and I have made real progress towards those goals - I haven't given up. I am proud of myself and I have actually become my own best cheerleader. I am letting go of that self doubt, and I didn’t even realize it.
And as far as fear? I am here to tell you I am kicking fears tushy! I have been a huge worrier my entire life, and while I am not about to claim that I have given up my worries (I am not sure that will ever happen!) I have certainly handed so many of them over to Him. I used to be someone who would lie awake at night fretting about the drama of the hour. Now I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow (and I don't even think it's just because I'm so tired!) – there are no worries keeping me awake or destroying my days. I may be anxious over certain aspects of my life right now, but I am certainly not allowing that fear to take me over. I am facing it head on – knowing full well that He is by my side and guiding me. Even in light of recent events, I haven't allowed fear to consume me. I have faith that He knows what is best for me right now and that all of this will serve a purpose. I have let the fear go and the faith take over.
When I read about my own rage I was caught off guard. I remember feeling that way, but... I wouldn’t even begin to use the word rage anymore. That hurt is surely still there, but it is now a different word. A less abrasive word. A less damaging connotation. I realized the other day that I haven’t allowed myself to get bristled up over my past in quite some time. It wasn’t even a conscious effort to let it go so much as a supernatural eraser that has slowly been clearing out my heart. I wouldn’t even have really noticed had it not been for being able to see the anger in my own words from just 3 months ago. I am letting it go. It isn't hurting me anymore. For the first time in my life I feel like I am moving on from the past and embracing the future.
The walls are a bit trickier. I would like to say I have torn them all down, but they are still surrounding me and protecting. I want to tear them down, and I believe I will be able to when the time is right – I just may not be there yet. Or it may be more of a brick at a time kind of project rather than a full on demolition. The fact is though, they no longer seem as daunting to me; I no longer think they are insurmountable. When the time comes, those walls are going to come crashing down.
Regardless, I had been feeling as though I didn’t get out of this last 3 months what I had wanted to get until I re-read my original post. There have been changes and my heart has been healing – almost without my even noticing. I have been breaking free, and while I may not yet be entirely free – it is a very real work in progress.
I forget sometimes that this journey is not like any other I have ever taken. I tend to like to see instantaneous results to my endeavors; I like to know my hard work is paying off and I am nearing the end. I spoke to a good friend of mine today though, and he was explaining to me a new spiritual path he is on. I have always seen him as extremely religious, in fact; I’ve always seen him as the end of the line as far as the path to Christ is concerned. When he was telling me about the changes that God has been making in his heart lately though, it kind of hit me that this is a journey that won’t end until we are standing in His presence at the kingdom of Heaven. There will be peaks and valleys; moments in time when we feel surrounded by his warmth and those when we will feel as though He isn’t even within reach. He is always within reach, but sometimes there are lessons we will need to learn on our own. No one ever stops progressing or growing on this journey, and there is no end goal to be reached – at least not in this life.
I felt renewed faith in that; in the knowledge that my journey has not stalled, it is just taking a little breather before the next peak.
And if all goes well in the land of baby making – it is going to be one heck of peak.
March 25, 2010
Are you ready to get pregnant?
Sometime last week I was lying on my back and I noticed that my stomach seemed more swollen than usual (not fat mind you – actually swollen). I will admit that since this all began I have become a little obsessed with my stomach – I can’t remember anytime pre-endo lying on my back just to examine it, but whatever.
I started poking around. Pushing on my spots that I know were getting tender with the endo before. Sure enough, my swelling seemed worse on my right side and my tenderness started at my belly button there and went all the way down that same side. I could also feel what I was pretty sure was a mass where my right ovary is.
It was kind of one of those “oh crap” moments where I knew exactly what was going on, but I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t real. I wanted to act as though I had never noticed.
I didn’t say a word to anyone. I assumed that if I spoke it out loud (or wrote it here) I would have to deal with it, and I didn’t want to deal with it. The truth is that I wasn’t even really worrying about it. Every night before I went to bed I would feel around again just to verify that nothing had changed, but then I would roll over and go right to sleep.
I think I was resigned to it. I almost just didn’t care.
Tuesday night I finally said something to my dad. I still didn’t care. I still wasn’t worried. I knew what it was but I was kind of so irritated by the whole thing that I wasn’t allowing myself to have any real feelings about it. I had an ultrasound already scheduled for 3 weeks from now and I told my dad I was just going to keep that appointment. I saw no reason to bump anything up. Nothing was going to be different in 3 weeks – I was still going to have at least one new endometrioma then, so why go to the extremes of moving it up? Would it do me any good to know sooner than later?
I just wanted to pretend for 3 more weeks that I could be wrong. I wanted to pretend for 3 more weeks that I was making it all up and that everything was A-OK.
My dad made a good point though (I hate it when he does that!) and reminded me that if I wait it out, my pain may just get to where it was before, and did I really want that?
No, of course I didn’t want that. Stupid logic.
So, I called yesterday and asked for an appointment sometime next week (still hoping I could have a few more days to pretend). They instead bumped the whole schedule around and got me an appointment for this morning – gee, thanks ladies!
Even last night I still didn’t care. I was so over the whole thing and I just wasn’t worrying about it. I was expecting new growth – I knew it was there, so why worry? The Lupron clearly wasn’t doing its job, but what could I do about it now? What did it matter now?
It was back, and there was nothing I could do about it. I certainly wasn’t going to let myself care.
Until I woke up this morning and realized what today would mean. From there, I was on the verge of tears until my doctor’s appointment. Even in the lobby I could feel myself fighting them back. Suddenly I cared. Suddenly I didn’t want this to be so. Suddenly I just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.
I pulled it together though, and walked into the ultrasound room with a smile on my face. I chatted the woman up and continued grinning even as I shared my concerns. I was determined not to let my fears show through. I was so calm and confident that I knew what this was, that I think she let her guard down a bit.
She let her shock show through.
As she was looking at my ovaries, she let me know she has never seen anyone on Lupron have a return of endometriomas.
She let me know what a rare case I was.
And she pointed them out on the screen for me.
In the moment, I think she was more upset than I was.
In the moment.
She basically confirmed my fears. They are nowhere near as bad as they were prior to my last two surgeries (not even close), but there are definitely some new growths. I was surprised because it looks like my left ovary is a little worse than my right (even though my right is where I am feeling the tenderness; even though my right has been far worse both times in the past). Regardless of which side is worse though, the point is that there is growth where there shouldn’t be.
And according to the ultrasound tech and my GYN, we can only assume that the new growth is new endometriomas.
And new endometriomas mean that the Lupron is not doing what it should be doing.
Still I remained calm. I submitted to not one but two blood draws (just as the first was done, the nurse realized I needed one more test), I peed in a cup for a urine culture, and I set up a procedure at the hospital next week to check on the viability of my remaining tube (a hysterosalpingogram – outpatient, but apparently not super fun).
I then sat down with my doctor and asked her what I should do.
She had no answers for me. She said she would feel more comfortable forwarding this ultrasound to my RE and seeing what she says.
In her opinion though, she thinks we should stop the Lupron and just move straight to IVF.
The whole point of the Lupron was to buy some time and to suppress the endo. If it has only slowed it and not stopped it though, its usefulness may be up.
She did tell me that she has never personally had a patient where Lupron hasn’t completely stopped the spread of endo (although, she has heard of them) and that one thing to keep in mind is how much worse this could have been if I wasn’t currently on what is considered to be the strongest drug treatment for this disease.
I could have been at the point of truly needing a hysterectomy by now for sure.
I can’t even think about it.
We discussed the surgery option too, but she told me at this point unless my pain is severe (which it isn’t) or next week’s test shows my tube needs to be removed (which she doesn’t think it will) she doesn’t see a need for another surgery before my IVF. She said right now it won’t affect my success rate one way or another, so unless things get drastically worse (please please please do not let things get drastically worse) the surgery decision falls on me.
And I do not want another surgery. At least not right now. I don’t want to deal with the expense and the trauma to my body right before IVF. I’m just not ready to go there again.
So no surgery… for now.
I took a copy of the ultrasound to forward to my RE in Seattle, and I left – defeated.
As soon as I walked out those doors, I finally felt some emotion. I finally felt hurt, and angry, and let down.
Why (why oh why) did I have to keep being this rare case?
Why was nothing working?
Why was my endo so aggressive?
Why could no one give me any real answers?
Why did this all have to be so hard?
I was upset. I cared. I hurt.
Mrs. King called me, and my voice started quivering as soon as I answered. It was all I could do to fight back the tears. I was just so frustrated.
I got back to the office and immediately scanned my ultrasound results and e-mailed them to Dr. RE asking for her opinion.
She e-mailed me back in less than 5 minutes. Her response said this:
“Are you ready to get pregnant? :)”
And suddenly I saw the silver lining.
Suddenly I saw the purpose.
Suddenly I saw the good.
If it wasn’t working, no more Lupron. No more feeling sick. No more lack of energy. No more fighting this stupid drug and trying to pretend like I was fine with the side effects.
And no more waiting.
I don’t know the timeline yet. She asked me to have my last 2 ultrasounds forwarded to her and said that she would then get back to me after comparing the new growths, but I’m assuming we are going to be looking at June/July. My last shot was February 22nd, and it is a 3 month dose. I know when we were talking about November, she wanted me to switch to a 1 month dose shot in August and September, but to not take it in October. I know we can’t do anything as long as this is still in my system, which is what is making me think we are still a few months out.
But I am excited.
Don’t get me wrong; there is fear there. I am a girl who likes plans and likes to go by the book. I was counting on and planning for November. Moving it up is going to mean everything is a bit tighter and I’m still not sure how the finances (or even the time off work) are going to work out.
But I have faith that they will work out.
I suddenly have faith that this is all going to work out.
And I am just going to get my baby sooner.
Sure, this awful drug didn’t work for me. I am the one rare case where it didn’t work. I am the oddity where nothing seems to work. I have done everything right and still – I am a failure in the fight against endo.
But I am going to get my baby sooner.
I am going to be a mommy sooner.
No more waiting.
I sent my dad a text message letting him know that it looks like everything is being moved up. His response was:
“OK. I’m ready to be a grandpa!”
And you know what?
I am so ready for him to be a grandpa too.
I started poking around. Pushing on my spots that I know were getting tender with the endo before. Sure enough, my swelling seemed worse on my right side and my tenderness started at my belly button there and went all the way down that same side. I could also feel what I was pretty sure was a mass where my right ovary is.
It was kind of one of those “oh crap” moments where I knew exactly what was going on, but I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t real. I wanted to act as though I had never noticed.
I didn’t say a word to anyone. I assumed that if I spoke it out loud (or wrote it here) I would have to deal with it, and I didn’t want to deal with it. The truth is that I wasn’t even really worrying about it. Every night before I went to bed I would feel around again just to verify that nothing had changed, but then I would roll over and go right to sleep.
I think I was resigned to it. I almost just didn’t care.
Tuesday night I finally said something to my dad. I still didn’t care. I still wasn’t worried. I knew what it was but I was kind of so irritated by the whole thing that I wasn’t allowing myself to have any real feelings about it. I had an ultrasound already scheduled for 3 weeks from now and I told my dad I was just going to keep that appointment. I saw no reason to bump anything up. Nothing was going to be different in 3 weeks – I was still going to have at least one new endometrioma then, so why go to the extremes of moving it up? Would it do me any good to know sooner than later?
I just wanted to pretend for 3 more weeks that I could be wrong. I wanted to pretend for 3 more weeks that I was making it all up and that everything was A-OK.
My dad made a good point though (I hate it when he does that!) and reminded me that if I wait it out, my pain may just get to where it was before, and did I really want that?
No, of course I didn’t want that. Stupid logic.
So, I called yesterday and asked for an appointment sometime next week (still hoping I could have a few more days to pretend). They instead bumped the whole schedule around and got me an appointment for this morning – gee, thanks ladies!
Even last night I still didn’t care. I was so over the whole thing and I just wasn’t worrying about it. I was expecting new growth – I knew it was there, so why worry? The Lupron clearly wasn’t doing its job, but what could I do about it now? What did it matter now?
It was back, and there was nothing I could do about it. I certainly wasn’t going to let myself care.
Until I woke up this morning and realized what today would mean. From there, I was on the verge of tears until my doctor’s appointment. Even in the lobby I could feel myself fighting them back. Suddenly I cared. Suddenly I didn’t want this to be so. Suddenly I just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.
I pulled it together though, and walked into the ultrasound room with a smile on my face. I chatted the woman up and continued grinning even as I shared my concerns. I was determined not to let my fears show through. I was so calm and confident that I knew what this was, that I think she let her guard down a bit.
She let her shock show through.
As she was looking at my ovaries, she let me know she has never seen anyone on Lupron have a return of endometriomas.
She let me know what a rare case I was.
And she pointed them out on the screen for me.
In the moment, I think she was more upset than I was.
In the moment.
She basically confirmed my fears. They are nowhere near as bad as they were prior to my last two surgeries (not even close), but there are definitely some new growths. I was surprised because it looks like my left ovary is a little worse than my right (even though my right is where I am feeling the tenderness; even though my right has been far worse both times in the past). Regardless of which side is worse though, the point is that there is growth where there shouldn’t be.
And according to the ultrasound tech and my GYN, we can only assume that the new growth is new endometriomas.
And new endometriomas mean that the Lupron is not doing what it should be doing.
Still I remained calm. I submitted to not one but two blood draws (just as the first was done, the nurse realized I needed one more test), I peed in a cup for a urine culture, and I set up a procedure at the hospital next week to check on the viability of my remaining tube (a hysterosalpingogram – outpatient, but apparently not super fun).
I then sat down with my doctor and asked her what I should do.
She had no answers for me. She said she would feel more comfortable forwarding this ultrasound to my RE and seeing what she says.
In her opinion though, she thinks we should stop the Lupron and just move straight to IVF.
The whole point of the Lupron was to buy some time and to suppress the endo. If it has only slowed it and not stopped it though, its usefulness may be up.
She did tell me that she has never personally had a patient where Lupron hasn’t completely stopped the spread of endo (although, she has heard of them) and that one thing to keep in mind is how much worse this could have been if I wasn’t currently on what is considered to be the strongest drug treatment for this disease.
I could have been at the point of truly needing a hysterectomy by now for sure.
I can’t even think about it.
We discussed the surgery option too, but she told me at this point unless my pain is severe (which it isn’t) or next week’s test shows my tube needs to be removed (which she doesn’t think it will) she doesn’t see a need for another surgery before my IVF. She said right now it won’t affect my success rate one way or another, so unless things get drastically worse (please please please do not let things get drastically worse) the surgery decision falls on me.
And I do not want another surgery. At least not right now. I don’t want to deal with the expense and the trauma to my body right before IVF. I’m just not ready to go there again.
So no surgery… for now.
I took a copy of the ultrasound to forward to my RE in Seattle, and I left – defeated.
As soon as I walked out those doors, I finally felt some emotion. I finally felt hurt, and angry, and let down.
Why (why oh why) did I have to keep being this rare case?
Why was nothing working?
Why was my endo so aggressive?
Why could no one give me any real answers?
Why did this all have to be so hard?
I was upset. I cared. I hurt.
Mrs. King called me, and my voice started quivering as soon as I answered. It was all I could do to fight back the tears. I was just so frustrated.
I got back to the office and immediately scanned my ultrasound results and e-mailed them to Dr. RE asking for her opinion.
She e-mailed me back in less than 5 minutes. Her response said this:
“Are you ready to get pregnant? :)”
And suddenly I saw the silver lining.
Suddenly I saw the purpose.
Suddenly I saw the good.
If it wasn’t working, no more Lupron. No more feeling sick. No more lack of energy. No more fighting this stupid drug and trying to pretend like I was fine with the side effects.
And no more waiting.
I don’t know the timeline yet. She asked me to have my last 2 ultrasounds forwarded to her and said that she would then get back to me after comparing the new growths, but I’m assuming we are going to be looking at June/July. My last shot was February 22nd, and it is a 3 month dose. I know when we were talking about November, she wanted me to switch to a 1 month dose shot in August and September, but to not take it in October. I know we can’t do anything as long as this is still in my system, which is what is making me think we are still a few months out.
But I am excited.
Don’t get me wrong; there is fear there. I am a girl who likes plans and likes to go by the book. I was counting on and planning for November. Moving it up is going to mean everything is a bit tighter and I’m still not sure how the finances (or even the time off work) are going to work out.
But I have faith that they will work out.
I suddenly have faith that this is all going to work out.
And I am just going to get my baby sooner.
Sure, this awful drug didn’t work for me. I am the one rare case where it didn’t work. I am the oddity where nothing seems to work. I have done everything right and still – I am a failure in the fight against endo.
But I am going to get my baby sooner.
I am going to be a mommy sooner.
No more waiting.
I sent my dad a text message letting him know that it looks like everything is being moved up. His response was:
“OK. I’m ready to be a grandpa!”
And you know what?
I am so ready for him to be a grandpa too.
March 24, 2010
Sold (or not)
I have been sold. I want acupuncture for the rest of my life. In fact, I want it every day for the rest of my life.
Except…
Maybe I should just start at the beginning.
My acupuncturist is the tiniest thing you have ever seen. I am 5’7” (and had heels on today because I had just come from work). She can’t be more than 5’. I weigh130 140 150(ish). She can’t weigh more than 90 pounds.
We will call her Teeny!
When she first came out to get me I immediately felt myself trying to shrink. I am not typically ever self conscious of my size (I love my body and my height!) but next to her I suddenly felt like the gentle giant – like I might lose control and try to eat her for dinner at any second and then the townspeople would come with their pitchforks and try to kill me.
Yes, these scenarios do run through my head from time to time!
Despite her ability to make me feel huge though (and not in a good way) I instantly liked her. She was just warm and sweet and totally talked my ear off the entire session.
Pro of acupuncture #1: I seriously feel like I just had a two hour therapy session. We talked about everything! I haven’t unloaded on someone like that in a long time (besides all of you lovelies – but you can turn away from your screens at anytime! Poor Teeny was trapped with me!) and it actually felt good. She just kept asking questions too. Just kept probing as she poked away. I didn’t expect it to be so nice, but maybe I’ve been needing some therapy for a while now!
We talked for a few minutes just about my background, but then she told me to strip down and get on the table. I will admit that I sat there for a minute under the blanket wishing I was getting a massage. It was quite the situation to put someone in who is admittedly going through massage withdrawals!
Still, I can’t knock any medical treatment that so closely mimics my favorite pastime.
I was on my stomach first, and without even touching me she took one look at my back and said “What did you do to yourself?!?” Ha! I told you all my back was a mess after this accident.
So yes, our session began with my having to explain what a stupid kid I used to be.
And my back ended up with a few more needles than originally expected.
When I flipped over, she had the same reaction to my stomach.
That is the part that makes me sad. I have never carried weight around my waist, but after two surgeries, endo bloat, and Lupron – my faux pregnancy bump has not gone away. I have actually been losing weight, but I still have a distended mid section. Obviously with me naked and lying on my back, the severity of that situation becomes more clear. It is not a normal bloat – in fact, I realized the other night that I can now feel a new (what I’m assuming to be) cyst on my right side. I’m not too pleased about that, but it is another story for another day. The point is – she could see it.
And that is where acupuncture got fun. We were chatting and she was poking away. All over my stomach, my feet, my arms, my forehead, and my ears. Most of the pin pricks I didn’t even feel, but a few absolutely had an effect. My right ear made me wince – turns out that spot is connected to my right ovary (my problem ovary). A spot on my left wrist made me instantly feel warm – that’s the spot associated with sweating (she is trying to minimize my Lupron induced night sweats - bless that woman!) The point is, that it was kind of cool. I definitely felt certain pricks more than others, and they all correlated to concerns of mine.
When we were done we talked about what she can and cannot do for me. She obviously explained that at this point the damage that has been done to my insides is more or less irreversible. She also explained that I shouldn’t be counting on being cured from endo – while that would be an amazing outcome, it is highly unlikely. But, she did think she could end my nausea, my headaches, my night sweats, my bad skin, and (most importantly) my fatigue.
That’s right ladies and gentlemen; she said she thinks she can get my energy level back to where it was before all of this.
I almost can’t even comprehend that. I barely remember a time when my bed wasn’t the only place I wanted to be. The battle with endo certainly drained my energy, but the Lupron has completely zapped it. Even when I do force myself to go out and spend time with my friends, I spend the vast majority of the time wondering how long it will be until I can get home to my bed. I hate admitting that, but it’s true. I am tired - all the time. I want my bed - all the time.
And she said she can fix that. She said she can return me to my former vibrant self – she can bring back the girl who used to be up for everything.
And I miss that girl.
I wanted Teeny to be my best friend. I seriously think she may be my new favorite person.
And I was sold.
We made a plan for 2 times a week for the next 3 weeks, and then tapering off to once a week after that.
Sold.
After two hours I felt more full of hope than I have in a while. Teeny got me feeling like I could actually be myself again someday – someday soon.
And then I went to pay.
What was my portion you ask? My 20% co-pay that will hopefully be all I have to cover (since I won’t know for sure if my insurance will cover this until after the bill is submitted).
$74.
Ouch.
Granted, this was my initial visit and so it was more expensive. I was told that subsequent visits will run me $30-$50 depending on the treatment I get.
Still a sting there.
Especially when you are figuring it will be at least once a week, and more here in the beginning.
Especially when you consider that there are no guarantees my insurance will cover this.
Especially when you remember I should be saving for IVF.
My insurance policy states that they will cover acupuncture when deemed medically necessary. I am hoping that the recommendation I got yesterday will do the trick. I am hoping they won’t even question it.
But what if they do and I am already 5 visits in?
What if I end up with some crazy bill I have to pay after the fact?
(community discussion: What would you do?)
I already have my next 4 appointments (over the next 2 weeks) set up. My dad thinks I should cancel them and wait and see if insurance covers this one, but…
Part of me is afraid of doing that, being denied for insurance, and then never knowing.
Never knowing if it could have helped.
Never knowing if it could have given me back my energy.
Never knowing if it could have given me back me.
I would almost rather know (and then be in the hole and have to give it all up) than never know.
So, I think I am going to let Teeny work her magic over the next two weeks and then reassess. Even with insurance coverage, it is still a lot of money. Without insurance, I simply can’t see continuing.
But I want to know. I need to know. I need to see if this is something that can give me my life back. I know it’s a lot of money, and I know this may not be the smartest decision I’ve ever made, but I need to know.
I need to know if that girl I used to be is still around.
Except…
Maybe I should just start at the beginning.
My acupuncturist is the tiniest thing you have ever seen. I am 5’7” (and had heels on today because I had just come from work). She can’t be more than 5’. I weigh
We will call her Teeny!
When she first came out to get me I immediately felt myself trying to shrink. I am not typically ever self conscious of my size (I love my body and my height!) but next to her I suddenly felt like the gentle giant – like I might lose control and try to eat her for dinner at any second and then the townspeople would come with their pitchforks and try to kill me.
Yes, these scenarios do run through my head from time to time!
Despite her ability to make me feel huge though (and not in a good way) I instantly liked her. She was just warm and sweet and totally talked my ear off the entire session.
Pro of acupuncture #1: I seriously feel like I just had a two hour therapy session. We talked about everything! I haven’t unloaded on someone like that in a long time (besides all of you lovelies – but you can turn away from your screens at anytime! Poor Teeny was trapped with me!) and it actually felt good. She just kept asking questions too. Just kept probing as she poked away. I didn’t expect it to be so nice, but maybe I’ve been needing some therapy for a while now!
We talked for a few minutes just about my background, but then she told me to strip down and get on the table. I will admit that I sat there for a minute under the blanket wishing I was getting a massage. It was quite the situation to put someone in who is admittedly going through massage withdrawals!
Still, I can’t knock any medical treatment that so closely mimics my favorite pastime.
I was on my stomach first, and without even touching me she took one look at my back and said “What did you do to yourself?!?” Ha! I told you all my back was a mess after this accident.
So yes, our session began with my having to explain what a stupid kid I used to be.
And my back ended up with a few more needles than originally expected.
When I flipped over, she had the same reaction to my stomach.
That is the part that makes me sad. I have never carried weight around my waist, but after two surgeries, endo bloat, and Lupron – my faux pregnancy bump has not gone away. I have actually been losing weight, but I still have a distended mid section. Obviously with me naked and lying on my back, the severity of that situation becomes more clear. It is not a normal bloat – in fact, I realized the other night that I can now feel a new (what I’m assuming to be) cyst on my right side. I’m not too pleased about that, but it is another story for another day. The point is – she could see it.
And that is where acupuncture got fun. We were chatting and she was poking away. All over my stomach, my feet, my arms, my forehead, and my ears. Most of the pin pricks I didn’t even feel, but a few absolutely had an effect. My right ear made me wince – turns out that spot is connected to my right ovary (my problem ovary). A spot on my left wrist made me instantly feel warm – that’s the spot associated with sweating (she is trying to minimize my Lupron induced night sweats - bless that woman!) The point is, that it was kind of cool. I definitely felt certain pricks more than others, and they all correlated to concerns of mine.
When we were done we talked about what she can and cannot do for me. She obviously explained that at this point the damage that has been done to my insides is more or less irreversible. She also explained that I shouldn’t be counting on being cured from endo – while that would be an amazing outcome, it is highly unlikely. But, she did think she could end my nausea, my headaches, my night sweats, my bad skin, and (most importantly) my fatigue.
That’s right ladies and gentlemen; she said she thinks she can get my energy level back to where it was before all of this.
I almost can’t even comprehend that. I barely remember a time when my bed wasn’t the only place I wanted to be. The battle with endo certainly drained my energy, but the Lupron has completely zapped it. Even when I do force myself to go out and spend time with my friends, I spend the vast majority of the time wondering how long it will be until I can get home to my bed. I hate admitting that, but it’s true. I am tired - all the time. I want my bed - all the time.
And she said she can fix that. She said she can return me to my former vibrant self – she can bring back the girl who used to be up for everything.
And I miss that girl.
I wanted Teeny to be my best friend. I seriously think she may be my new favorite person.
And I was sold.
We made a plan for 2 times a week for the next 3 weeks, and then tapering off to once a week after that.
Sold.
After two hours I felt more full of hope than I have in a while. Teeny got me feeling like I could actually be myself again someday – someday soon.
And then I went to pay.
What was my portion you ask? My 20% co-pay that will hopefully be all I have to cover (since I won’t know for sure if my insurance will cover this until after the bill is submitted).
$74.
Ouch.
Granted, this was my initial visit and so it was more expensive. I was told that subsequent visits will run me $30-$50 depending on the treatment I get.
Still a sting there.
Especially when you are figuring it will be at least once a week, and more here in the beginning.
Especially when you consider that there are no guarantees my insurance will cover this.
Especially when you remember I should be saving for IVF.
My insurance policy states that they will cover acupuncture when deemed medically necessary. I am hoping that the recommendation I got yesterday will do the trick. I am hoping they won’t even question it.
But what if they do and I am already 5 visits in?
What if I end up with some crazy bill I have to pay after the fact?
(community discussion: What would you do?)
I already have my next 4 appointments (over the next 2 weeks) set up. My dad thinks I should cancel them and wait and see if insurance covers this one, but…
Part of me is afraid of doing that, being denied for insurance, and then never knowing.
Never knowing if it could have helped.
Never knowing if it could have given me back my energy.
Never knowing if it could have given me back me.
I would almost rather know (and then be in the hole and have to give it all up) than never know.
So, I think I am going to let Teeny work her magic over the next two weeks and then reassess. Even with insurance coverage, it is still a lot of money. Without insurance, I simply can’t see continuing.
But I want to know. I need to know. I need to see if this is something that can give me my life back. I know it’s a lot of money, and I know this may not be the smartest decision I’ve ever made, but I need to know.
I need to know if that girl I used to be is still around.
March 23, 2010
It Turns Out, I'm a Man
I had my naturopathic follow up appointment today, and I was really excited; until the doctor looked at me as we were walking to her office and said “I can’t wait to talk to you about your crazy test results!”
Wonderful.
The test we were reviewing was that lovely pee in a bucket for 24 hours test I had to do last month. She set a sheet in front of me with about 20 long words on it (mostly different hormones), my results for each of those things, and what would be considered a “normal” result next to that.
Funny story. 90% of my levels were nowhere near normal.
The estrogens, as should be expected due to the Lupron, were barely detectable. In fact, a few of them actually said “not detected” in the results. She said this isn’t something to be too concerned about since it is technically the purpose of the Lupron, but she did tell me that she has seen women in menopause with better levels.
Great.
Then she took the piece of paper, highlighted something, and handed it back to me.
Testosterone. My level is 111. The normal range is 4-18.
It turns out, I’m a man.
She was kind of grinning at me and asked if I have a high sex drive.
Well. Err. Um….
OK, I confess, I have the sex drive of a teenage boy. I always have. I have always been the freak of nature amongst my friends. I have always been the girl who wears the men in her life out.
It doesn't take much to turn me on, and I've been joking that if I really want to stick to this "giving up sex until marriage" thing, I'm going to have to start going on supervised dates.
Even now, on the Lupron (which I have read ruins the sex drive of many women) I am refilling the batteries in my boyfriend more than I care to admit.
But really, I always just thought everyone else was lying about their sex drives. I always figured I was the normal one and they were the ones with issues.
Turns out, not so much.
I called my dad and told him I was supposed to be born with a penis.
OK, it’s actually not that big a deal. She said I have probably always had abnormally high levels (clearly - seriously, this explains so much for me!), but that we already know I had abnormally high levels of estrogen before too – they probably balanced each other out. An actual man’s testosterone levels are still much higher than mine are; it’s just that now I don’t have any estrogen to even things up.
So, all that self conscious energy I’ve had about the possibility that I am getting facial hair the past few months – may not be that far off. I officially have more male hormones than female hormones.
Wonderful.
At least I still have a pretty fabulous rack to remind me that I am still all that is woman.
Even if right now my hormones tell a different story.
In less embarrassing news, we didn’t accomplish much on the herb front. She is afraid to give me anything that might alter the effects of the Lupron, which I do understand. She was all behind acupuncture though, and so I officially have my recommendation written by an ANP to start that. She said that typically with her recommendation the insurance companies will cover it without any issues.
That was a relief to hear!
I have my consult with the acupuncturist tomorrow, and I am beyond thrilled. I have just heard so many wonderful success stories about acupuncture, and I can’t wait to start. I can’t wait to see what it can do to help all of my Lupron and Endo induced ailments!
It would be really cool if she could get a handle on that whole facial hair thing for me!
Wonderful.
The test we were reviewing was that lovely pee in a bucket for 24 hours test I had to do last month. She set a sheet in front of me with about 20 long words on it (mostly different hormones), my results for each of those things, and what would be considered a “normal” result next to that.
Funny story. 90% of my levels were nowhere near normal.
The estrogens, as should be expected due to the Lupron, were barely detectable. In fact, a few of them actually said “not detected” in the results. She said this isn’t something to be too concerned about since it is technically the purpose of the Lupron, but she did tell me that she has seen women in menopause with better levels.
Great.
Then she took the piece of paper, highlighted something, and handed it back to me.
Testosterone. My level is 111. The normal range is 4-18.
It turns out, I’m a man.
She was kind of grinning at me and asked if I have a high sex drive.
Well. Err. Um….
OK, I confess, I have the sex drive of a teenage boy. I always have. I have always been the freak of nature amongst my friends. I have always been the girl who wears the men in her life out.
It doesn't take much to turn me on, and I've been joking that if I really want to stick to this "giving up sex until marriage" thing, I'm going to have to start going on supervised dates.
Even now, on the Lupron (which I have read ruins the sex drive of many women) I am refilling the batteries in my boyfriend more than I care to admit.
But really, I always just thought everyone else was lying about their sex drives. I always figured I was the normal one and they were the ones with issues.
Turns out, not so much.
I called my dad and told him I was supposed to be born with a penis.
OK, it’s actually not that big a deal. She said I have probably always had abnormally high levels (clearly - seriously, this explains so much for me!), but that we already know I had abnormally high levels of estrogen before too – they probably balanced each other out. An actual man’s testosterone levels are still much higher than mine are; it’s just that now I don’t have any estrogen to even things up.
So, all that self conscious energy I’ve had about the possibility that I am getting facial hair the past few months – may not be that far off. I officially have more male hormones than female hormones.
Wonderful.
At least I still have a pretty fabulous rack to remind me that I am still all that is woman.
Even if right now my hormones tell a different story.
In less embarrassing news, we didn’t accomplish much on the herb front. She is afraid to give me anything that might alter the effects of the Lupron, which I do understand. She was all behind acupuncture though, and so I officially have my recommendation written by an ANP to start that. She said that typically with her recommendation the insurance companies will cover it without any issues.
That was a relief to hear!
I have my consult with the acupuncturist tomorrow, and I am beyond thrilled. I have just heard so many wonderful success stories about acupuncture, and I can’t wait to start. I can’t wait to see what it can do to help all of my Lupron and Endo induced ailments!
It would be really cool if she could get a handle on that whole facial hair thing for me!
March 22, 2010
What It Means To Me
I am going to admit upfront that one of the few things I am not great talking about is politics. I don’t understand the intricacies in the way I should, and if we are being completely honest; I think there is mass corruption on both sides that makes all the issues hazier than they should be. I also think we are a country full of ignorant people. I do not say that to ruffle feathers, I simply think that people are far too quick to take and repeat information that suits their purposes rather than doing their own research. Half the time I don’t think most of us really know what we are talking about when we are discussing politics. I try to educate myself and stay on top of the issues, but I will even take the ignorant label upon myself. I consider myself to be someone who works to educate herself on these topics more than most people, and I still don’t think I fully understand.
So, I don’t necessarily want to discuss this from a political perspective, even though it is a political topic. I will say that in many ways I am a bleeding heart liberal (when it comes to children I think we should be bending over backwards to give each and every child the same opportunities) but that in other ways I am stingy as they come (I do not have patience for adults not willing to take responsibility for their own circumstances. I cannot handle people intent on abusing the system. There is no sympathy from me in those cases).
But I am happy this health bill passed.
There. I said it. I have officially split my readers right down the middle and half of you will probably never come back to see me again.
I’m sorry about that, but I’m not sorry about being happy about this bill.
I’ve heard a lot of arguments against it today, and have been appalled to learn that individual states will now be suing the federal government in order to stop it. I think if something like health care is going to tear us apart as a country, it may be time for us to re-examine our priorities.
I have heard our president referred to as the n-word (and really, is there anything more ignorant you can do than throw out a racial slur to defend your point? I have no respect for people whose intelligence level is so low that this is the tactic they choose to take) and I have seen people who seem to be more opposed to him than to any bill. People who seem to be fighting in an election that is already over. People who are likely going to fight tooth and nail against everything that comes from this administration, solely because they are still bitter about who won.
If we all took that same attitude after every change in office, would anything ever be accomplished?
Because I am pretty sure there are people just as stubborn, angry, and bitter on both sides who could make that happen. People who could stall progress for the rest of our lives.
People who would rather fight to be right than give something a chance to prove them wrong.
I have seen people intent on defaming something they clearly don’t understand. Intent on winning as opposed to recognizing that sometimes conceding to a loss may be what is best for the Country as a whole. Sometimes uniting with a common purpose may be better than being right.
When you lose sight of that, it is my understanding you end up in a civil war.
Is this issue worth going that far?
I can’t argue from a states-rights standpoint, because I will be honest in admitting that I don’t know what all should be involved there. What I do know is that if individual states were so intent on fixing health care, perhaps they should have done it long ago.
What I also know is that health care has been allowed to become a big business. Insurance companies have been allowed to take advantage and turn people away when they need their services the most. Politicians have turned a blind eye, in exchange for who knows what. In the 8 years I have been gainfully employed at jobs that have provided me health insurance (keep in mind, there were gaps in there. I did not have insurance while I was in school and for the 2 years prior to moving to Alaska) I have seen my portion go from a $10 co-pay at every visit no matter what, to a 20% co-pay and a hefty deductable. I am too young to have seen such a shift in out of pocket costs. That is too short a time period for things to have changed so drastically.
And I am here to tell you, every last one of us is stupid if we don’t think that trend is going to continue without intervention.
Beyond that though, more and more people in our Country are simply unable to gain coverage. I could easily become one of them. While I have found some alternative options to health care (thanks in part to some of you!) there would still be obstacles for me. Under the current system, if I lost my job tomorrow it is very possible I could have an extremely difficult time obtaining health insurance or be stuck with premiums I simply couldn’t afford.
The sad thing is, that could happen to anyone. I am responsible. I am hard working. I live a healthy lifestyle. Do not kid yourselves and think that you are in a position where you couldn’t possibly find yourself without health insurance tomorrow. Do not believe that it couldn’t happen to you. Or your children. All it would take would be one disease, one car accident, one mistake; and you would be bankrupt.
If it were you, would you be fighting this reform so hard?
If it were someone you loved facing mounting bills?
I like that the new bill promises health insurance for all. I like that it requires people to insure themselves; to be responsible for their own coverage.
I like that it will not allow insurers to deny coverage to people with pre-existing conditions. I like that it will permit even those people fair premiums.
Many of the complaints today have involved a lot of “me, me, me” A lot of “I don’t want to see my coverage change”. I’m here to tell you, as things stand your coverage could change any day. You could be laid off, or fired and unable to obtain new coverage. Even worse, you could have to sit back as your current coverage changes all on its own. Are we blind to the changes of the last 8 years? Do we not see how much coverage has changed for the worst already?
Are we so selfish that we think that as long as we are covered we don’t care who isn’t?
Because it could be you tomorrow.
And then who is it you are going to want to help you? When you can’t get coverage and you can’t afford your mounting health care costs, who are you going to want to bail you out?
I do not agree with everything in this bill, but I feel like it is at least an attempt to fix a flailing system.
And the last I checked, until right now no one else has even made a step in the right direction.
Life is about choices. It is about choosing your battles.
Sometimes it is about accepting defeat.
At the end of the day there are so many worse battles you could lose than the one that ends with everyone in America being insured.
Regardless of what your take is on this bill, don’t ever forget that you could be the one.
The one unable to get coverage. The one facing bankruptcy. The one with no options.
How hard would you be fighting then?
(if you would like to discuss this post and this bill, you can do so here)
So, I don’t necessarily want to discuss this from a political perspective, even though it is a political topic. I will say that in many ways I am a bleeding heart liberal (when it comes to children I think we should be bending over backwards to give each and every child the same opportunities) but that in other ways I am stingy as they come (I do not have patience for adults not willing to take responsibility for their own circumstances. I cannot handle people intent on abusing the system. There is no sympathy from me in those cases).
But I am happy this health bill passed.
There. I said it. I have officially split my readers right down the middle and half of you will probably never come back to see me again.
I’m sorry about that, but I’m not sorry about being happy about this bill.
I’ve heard a lot of arguments against it today, and have been appalled to learn that individual states will now be suing the federal government in order to stop it. I think if something like health care is going to tear us apart as a country, it may be time for us to re-examine our priorities.
I have heard our president referred to as the n-word (and really, is there anything more ignorant you can do than throw out a racial slur to defend your point? I have no respect for people whose intelligence level is so low that this is the tactic they choose to take) and I have seen people who seem to be more opposed to him than to any bill. People who seem to be fighting in an election that is already over. People who are likely going to fight tooth and nail against everything that comes from this administration, solely because they are still bitter about who won.
If we all took that same attitude after every change in office, would anything ever be accomplished?
Because I am pretty sure there are people just as stubborn, angry, and bitter on both sides who could make that happen. People who could stall progress for the rest of our lives.
People who would rather fight to be right than give something a chance to prove them wrong.
I have seen people intent on defaming something they clearly don’t understand. Intent on winning as opposed to recognizing that sometimes conceding to a loss may be what is best for the Country as a whole. Sometimes uniting with a common purpose may be better than being right.
When you lose sight of that, it is my understanding you end up in a civil war.
Is this issue worth going that far?
I can’t argue from a states-rights standpoint, because I will be honest in admitting that I don’t know what all should be involved there. What I do know is that if individual states were so intent on fixing health care, perhaps they should have done it long ago.
What I also know is that health care has been allowed to become a big business. Insurance companies have been allowed to take advantage and turn people away when they need their services the most. Politicians have turned a blind eye, in exchange for who knows what. In the 8 years I have been gainfully employed at jobs that have provided me health insurance (keep in mind, there were gaps in there. I did not have insurance while I was in school and for the 2 years prior to moving to Alaska) I have seen my portion go from a $10 co-pay at every visit no matter what, to a 20% co-pay and a hefty deductable. I am too young to have seen such a shift in out of pocket costs. That is too short a time period for things to have changed so drastically.
And I am here to tell you, every last one of us is stupid if we don’t think that trend is going to continue without intervention.
Beyond that though, more and more people in our Country are simply unable to gain coverage. I could easily become one of them. While I have found some alternative options to health care (thanks in part to some of you!) there would still be obstacles for me. Under the current system, if I lost my job tomorrow it is very possible I could have an extremely difficult time obtaining health insurance or be stuck with premiums I simply couldn’t afford.
The sad thing is, that could happen to anyone. I am responsible. I am hard working. I live a healthy lifestyle. Do not kid yourselves and think that you are in a position where you couldn’t possibly find yourself without health insurance tomorrow. Do not believe that it couldn’t happen to you. Or your children. All it would take would be one disease, one car accident, one mistake; and you would be bankrupt.
If it were you, would you be fighting this reform so hard?
If it were someone you loved facing mounting bills?
I like that the new bill promises health insurance for all. I like that it requires people to insure themselves; to be responsible for their own coverage.
I like that it will not allow insurers to deny coverage to people with pre-existing conditions. I like that it will permit even those people fair premiums.
Many of the complaints today have involved a lot of “me, me, me” A lot of “I don’t want to see my coverage change”. I’m here to tell you, as things stand your coverage could change any day. You could be laid off, or fired and unable to obtain new coverage. Even worse, you could have to sit back as your current coverage changes all on its own. Are we blind to the changes of the last 8 years? Do we not see how much coverage has changed for the worst already?
Are we so selfish that we think that as long as we are covered we don’t care who isn’t?
Because it could be you tomorrow.
And then who is it you are going to want to help you? When you can’t get coverage and you can’t afford your mounting health care costs, who are you going to want to bail you out?
I do not agree with everything in this bill, but I feel like it is at least an attempt to fix a flailing system.
And the last I checked, until right now no one else has even made a step in the right direction.
Life is about choices. It is about choosing your battles.
Sometimes it is about accepting defeat.
At the end of the day there are so many worse battles you could lose than the one that ends with everyone in America being insured.
Regardless of what your take is on this bill, don’t ever forget that you could be the one.
The one unable to get coverage. The one facing bankruptcy. The one with no options.
How hard would you be fighting then?
(if you would like to discuss this post and this bill, you can do so here)
March 21, 2010
The Ex
He’s been trying to get a hold of me. I haven’t spoken to him at all since The Great Text Debacle of 2010, but… he has started trying to make contact.
He didn’t leave a message. I toyed with the idea of calling him back to see what he wanted (my curiosity was killing me), but I eventually decided against it. I decided that if he really wanted to talk to me he would call back. If he really wanted to hear from me he would leave a message. My dad made a good point too; what if he just wanted his toothbrush back? Technically he never left his toothbrush here, but what if it was something that simple? I can’t lie and say that seeing his number didn’t cause a surge of hope inside of me. If the reason he was calling was for something so mundane though, I would have been ticked at myself for reopening that door. I just decided to wait and see.
I didn’t hear from him again, and came to the conclusion that it was best that I hadn’t called him back.
Then last Thursday night I got a text message from him. Again, it was nothing. All it said was “Hey you! Howz life?” Again, I stared at it for a while trying to decide what to do. And again I decided to ignore it. I’m not going to lie – the ‘z’ instead of an ‘s’ made it easier for me to ignore! I honestly cannot stand text speak. More than that though, I realized he wasn’t giving anything away with this text. I still had no idea what it was he wanted, and given our last conversation maybe I was hoping for more of an apology. I wanted more. I need more before I’m willing to open that door again. I ignored it.
Tonight I got another text. "Ooch!! Not even friends." Again I stared. Again my heart started beating too fast. But again I realized there was nothing there. If anything it felt like him fishing; like him knowing me well enough to know that if he keeps acting like nothing should be wrong I will eventually feel guilty enough to respond.
You have to understand, I am not a girl who ignores. I think it’s rude, and doing it eats away at me. Even when I’m upset with someone, I let them know. I do not ignore. I can’t stand when I try to contact someone and they ignore me. I would rather have a door slammed in my face than never opened at all.
With this though, I just don’t know what to say. It feels like I have already said everything I would be saying again now. How many times can the same words fall on deaf ears? How many times can I beg for him to forgive me and be what I need him to be, only to be disappointed?
The last year all we did was have sex or fight. Those were our two levels. We would have a few good days or maybe even weeks, but looking back I’m realizing even the good times revolved around sex. It wasn’t like before I broke us. Back then we were a unit – we were two people who actually cared about each other and had a future. I know I am the one who broke that, but how long can I settle for less as a result? The past year of trying to get back to where we were, the good times really were much more about sex than connection. And when we weren’t there, we were fighting. It was the same fight over and over again too. I don’t want to have that fight anymore. I want to know that he knows how hurtful the entire thing was. I want to know that he feels bad about it. I want to know that he forgives me and wants me to forgive him. I want to know it will never happen again and that he does care about me. But, I don’t want to fight. And clearly – I don’t want to have sex. At least not with someone who has no idea what he wants from me. I’m past that. I very well may be past pre-marital sex in its entirety. That’s not really the point though. The point is that I am done with the cycle we were in. And so I have ignored his attempts at contact. Right now I just can’t see any good coming from reciprocating.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to reciprocate though. That doesn’t mean that I don’t find myself hoping almost every day for his return to my life. It just means I can’t set myself up for the disappointment anymore. I fell in love with the guy I thought he was, and he then spent a year hell-bent on proving to me that he wasn’t that guy. I don’t want to let the guy he seems to want to be back in. It is going to take a lot more than random calls with no messages or texts that don’t appear to have any purpose for me to open that door again.
I may love him. I may have nights where all I can think about is how much I need him. I may catch myself praying that he will let go of the bitterness and anger and be the guy I need him to be. But, until I have reason to believe that has happened, I just can’t. I have to keep moving forward. I have to keep looking for a man who can be what I needed him to be. No matter how much I want to let him back in, I just can’t. I actually think we are past the point of even being able to be friends, because even in that I would need so much more than he has given me. Even in that he would still need to forgive me.
I’m not sure he’s capable of forgiveness, and as long as he is holding a grudge – he will punish me.
I don’t deserve to be punished anymore.
It is so hard for me to ignore, but I think it’s the best thing for both of us right now. I don’t think either of us wants to end up where we were again. I’ve worked so hard to cut negativity out of my life. I don’t want to be crying over him again two months from now. I saw a future and a life with this man, but… I deserve more than what he has given me.
There are nights I lie awake wishing he was there to hold me. Nights I wish it could be easier and we could just figure it all out. Nights I wish he was the one standing by my side through this. Nights I wish we could each be what the other person needs, because I know I need to be more too.
But I won’t go down the same road again. I won’t relive the last year with him.
And so I ignore. Until I know there is some reason I shouldn’t.
And I’m not counting on that reason.
I’m not counting on him.
March 20, 2010
Feeling Behind
Facebook never got back to me. I’m pretty sure it was clearly the harshest dumping I’ve ever been through. Facebook had no sympathy. Facebook has already moved on.
So, I did this crazy thing and I checked out the rules. Novel idea, right? The thing is, I am technologically stunted. I am always the last person to catch on to new fads, and when I do it usually takes me quite a while to figure out (you should have seen me as I tried to learn how to use my iphone!) I know there are a lot of people in this world who just pick new things up right away; I am not one of them. If it has to do with technology, it takes me some time.
And I liked Facebook. I liked the connections it allowed me to make.
So, after doing some reading I set up a new page. If you were a friend before and would like to do so, you can become a friend again (you can get there through the link in my right side bar too). Hopefully I won't do anything to incur the wrath of Facebook this time.
You would think they would have compassion for my ignorance, but whatever!
As I was doing this though, I also started to look at Twitter. I’ve heard so much about it, but I honestly have had no interest. The idea of condensing myself to 140 characters is almost painful for me to think about. I am one of those people who sends 5 text messages to get her point across. I don’t like text speak, and I don’t care if my refusal to use it means the person getting my texts has to read a novel on their phones.
I’m a rebel like that.
But then I heard a woman talking about tweeting through her labor and I thought that was possibly the coolest idea I had ever heard of (yes, I’m creepy like that! If I end up being blessed with the chance to go through labor, I want to be able to document it in every way imaginable!) So, I set up Twitter (@sifinalaska) – solely with the purpose in mind of tweeting through labor.
I know I’m a kook.
I was feeling very behind technologically speaking though – why not further immerse myself into the internet ether?
Is it OK if I admit that I don’t understand why all these different technologies seem to do exactly the same thing (connect people) just in slightly different ways? Why do we need it all? Whatever happened to a good old fashioned e-mail?
Or even better: Snail mail. I can’t tell you how giddy I still get when I receive a card in the mail when I least expect it.
I should admit that doing both of these things took me all day. ALL DAY. I have 25 more get your ex back articles to write (have I mentioned how much I am loving doing freelance work? I am having so much fun with some of these articles!), I still need to write my chapter for this week, and I’ve been getting sucked back into the community all day. I would say I need to step away from the computer and focus on my work, but since my work needs to be done on the computer… that may be difficult.
Maybe I should Tweet about it?
So, I did this crazy thing and I checked out the rules. Novel idea, right? The thing is, I am technologically stunted. I am always the last person to catch on to new fads, and when I do it usually takes me quite a while to figure out (you should have seen me as I tried to learn how to use my iphone!) I know there are a lot of people in this world who just pick new things up right away; I am not one of them. If it has to do with technology, it takes me some time.
And I liked Facebook. I liked the connections it allowed me to make.
So, after doing some reading I set up a new page. If you were a friend before and would like to do so, you can become a friend again (you can get there through the link in my right side bar too). Hopefully I won't do anything to incur the wrath of Facebook this time.
You would think they would have compassion for my ignorance, but whatever!
As I was doing this though, I also started to look at Twitter. I’ve heard so much about it, but I honestly have had no interest. The idea of condensing myself to 140 characters is almost painful for me to think about. I am one of those people who sends 5 text messages to get her point across. I don’t like text speak, and I don’t care if my refusal to use it means the person getting my texts has to read a novel on their phones.
I’m a rebel like that.
But then I heard a woman talking about tweeting through her labor and I thought that was possibly the coolest idea I had ever heard of (yes, I’m creepy like that! If I end up being blessed with the chance to go through labor, I want to be able to document it in every way imaginable!) So, I set up Twitter (@sifinalaska) – solely with the purpose in mind of tweeting through labor.
I know I’m a kook.
I was feeling very behind technologically speaking though – why not further immerse myself into the internet ether?
Is it OK if I admit that I don’t understand why all these different technologies seem to do exactly the same thing (connect people) just in slightly different ways? Why do we need it all? Whatever happened to a good old fashioned e-mail?
Or even better: Snail mail. I can’t tell you how giddy I still get when I receive a card in the mail when I least expect it.
I should admit that doing both of these things took me all day. ALL DAY. I have 25 more get your ex back articles to write (have I mentioned how much I am loving doing freelance work? I am having so much fun with some of these articles!), I still need to write my chapter for this week, and I’ve been getting sucked back into the community all day. I would say I need to step away from the computer and focus on my work, but since my work needs to be done on the computer… that may be difficult.
Maybe I should Tweet about it?
March 19, 2010
Not About Me
I volunteer with Big Brothers Big Sisters, and it is one of my biggest passions. I think it is an amazing program, and I would highly encourage others to get involved. I’ve been with the girl I work with (Chatty) for about 18 months now. When I started working with her, her mom was on ankle bracelet monitoring. That concerned me at first, but her mom actually seemed like a decent enough person and as though she truly did care about her kids (at the time 3 with one on the way) – she seemed more like she was lacking the knowledge regarding how to parent, rather than the drive. I could respect that. She did genuinely seem to love her kids.
Mom got off ankle bracelet monitoring a few months ago though, and has been less and less present. She had baby number 4 in October (this babies daddy is now in jail), and Chatty has been telling me that her mom has been going out to “run errands” every night, and that she has been taking care of the baby.
Granted, Chatty is an exaggerator. I honestly never know how much to believe of what she is telling me because her stories always have a little added oomph. Overall, she is good kid. She is actually fiercely protective of her mom and doesn’t ever like to talk about the past, but she also likes for me to see her as the responsible helper – and I think sometimes she wants someone to feel sorry for her (and weren’t we all pretty similar in that way at 12?) So while I wasn’t sure what to think of Chatty’s stories initially, I also wasn’t too concerned.
Until I noticed that mom really was less and less there. It has been months since I have spoken to or seen her. Months. Months of me picking up her daughter and taking her who knows where every week. She doesn't seem the least bit concerned.
The other weird thing that has happened is that Chatty has stopped inviting me in the house. It used to be that I would pick her up and she would invite me in while she put on her jacket and finished getting ready. Now though; she barely cracks the door open, tells me she’ll be right out, and quickly closes it. I don’t know that it means anything beyond her just being a teenager who is starting to become embarrassed of her home. She has been to my condo quite a few times, and it is drastically different in cleanliness levels. It is very possible she is just starting to become embarrassed about the differences. But I don’t know…
Last weekend I went to pick her up, and her little sister (6 years old) was outside playing. Chatty made a bee-line for my car when her little sister says “Yes! I’m going to be alone!” Obviously this stopped me in my tracks and I asked Chatty if she was supposed to be watching her sister. She looked up sheepishly and said “Oh yeah. I forgot.” To which her sister replied “It’s OK, I get left home alone all the time!”
I never did get to the bottom of the situation. I don’t know if Chatty was supposed to be watching her sister and was going to take a quick getaway anyway (possible – however, if that is the case she clearly isn’t responsible enough to be watching her little sister) or if her mom knew she was going to be leaving her sister home alone, and Chatty was playing the “I forgot” card because she knew I wouldn’t be OK with that (also possible – like I said, Chatty has been very careful when it comes to protecting her mom). I honestly don’t know which scenario it was, but I don’t really think either is good. Nor did I like little sisters declaration that she is left home alone all the time. We're not talking about a good neighborhood here, not that that would even make a difference. Regardless, we obviously did not end up leaving her.
I called BBBS that night and left them a message. I spoke to my coordinator on Monday and let loose all of my concerns. She confided in me that she has also had a difficult time getting a hold of mom. She said she wasn’t going to take any action yet, but that she was going to try calling mom to set up a meeting to go over the ground rules of the program again (one of the big ones is that in theory the parent should always be there when we pick up so that we can go over anything new with the child – the parent shouldn’t be looking at this as a babysitting service but rather as a partnership to improve the child’s life). She promised me that she would get back in touch with me when she spoke to the mother. I still haven’t heard from her, which I’m assuming means that no contact has been made.
Tonight I had plans with Chatty to go shopping. She is desperately in need of her first bra, so I had promised her we would go out and get her one.
(side note: The Gap, Old Navy, and Banana Republic are all having a 30% off sale this weekend with 5% of the proceeds going to BBBS – You can get the coupon to participate here).
I showed up at her house though and she wasn’t there. Her older sister was watching her younger sister and said that she wasn’t sure where she was. No one was really sure where she was.
The worst thing is, this isn’t the first time this has happened. In fact, this has happened probably 20 times since I first started working with Chatty. I remember being appalled that a 10 year old could be running around with no one responsible knowing where she was, but after a while it just started to become annoying. Her mom seemed to have no concern for keeping track of her schedule, and as a result far too often she would blame Chatty for forgetting rather than taking responsibility as a parent.
I’m just upset now. This little girl has no one holding her accountable or caring where she is, who she’s with, or what she’s doing at any given point at time. No one cares. And she knows it. She knows she can come and go as she pleases and that no one cares. There are no rules, no boundaries, and no expectations.
I want to not make this about me, but I almost can’t help it. I almost can’t help wondering why this woman gets 4 kids, and I may not get any. I know it is not up to me to understand God’s plan, but sometimes this situation hurts me so badly. Sometimes I catch myself thinking “I would have so much more to give. So much more love. So much more time. Just so much more. Why does she get 4 when it will be so hard for me just to have 1?”
It hurts me. It hurts me to watch and it hurts to feel like there is nothing I can do to improve this little girl’s life. I honestly do not think she would be better in foster care (at least now she has all her siblings), but I don’t think things are good the way they are either. I feel like she deserves so much better, but I don’t know how to help her get it.
And if we are being completely honest (and I am being completely selfish) I don’t know how much more of this I can continue to watch. It brings out the worst side of me. The selfish, jealous, angry side.
Chatty called me over an hour after I was originally supposed to pick her up and we arranged for me to come get her then. I’ll admit it; I was angry. Not so much at her, but just at the situation. I was angry that no one was keeping track of this child.
I was probably a little short with her the entire drive. I know it isn’t her fault, but I was still just frustrated with her for some reason. When we got to the store though, it was an entirely different experience. Her eyes lit up. She never gets new things. She never has clothes that are only hers. So little made such a big difference.
I typically try not to buy her too much because when I’ve done so in the past things have mysteriously disappeared within a few weeks. She has hinted that mom has sold the items, and it’s made me not want to feed into that. Therefore, I tend to spend most of the money I budget for Chatty on things we do rather than things she can take home.
But, the last year I have seen her in nothing but sweatpants and ratty t-shirts. She goes to school like that; in clothes that don’t fit and are better suited for bed than public. Seeing how excited she got, I just kept piling things on. We even went through the arduous task of finding a pair of jeans that fit her. She is a bigger girl, and we had to try quite a few pairs – I get embarrassed buying jeans for myself, so I know this wasn’t exactly fun for her. At least not until we found the perfect pair, then she was on cloud nine!
In the end I sent her home with a new bra, a new pair of jeans, a few new tops, and a hoodie. Nothing. Honestly nothing. I’ve been coveting a pair of boots that are 4 times what I spent on Chatty tonight, yet she was through the moon with excitement. She was talking about how much everyone at school was going to like her new green shirt, and how jealous her sister was going to be about her jeans. You would have thought I had just given her a new car for all the excitement and gratefulness she had.
And I felt like a jerk. Because, this isn’t about me. It has nothing to do with me. How can I look at that situation and allow myself to get so agitated when there is still so much I can do? How can I even consider quitting because it hurts my feelings to watch, when that little girl relies on me so much?
It is not about me. Not everything is about me. Sometimes other peoples stories are just more important.
And sometimes it takes so very little to show a child you care.
A child who desperately needs to know that someone cares.
Mom got off ankle bracelet monitoring a few months ago though, and has been less and less present. She had baby number 4 in October (this babies daddy is now in jail), and Chatty has been telling me that her mom has been going out to “run errands” every night, and that she has been taking care of the baby.
Granted, Chatty is an exaggerator. I honestly never know how much to believe of what she is telling me because her stories always have a little added oomph. Overall, she is good kid. She is actually fiercely protective of her mom and doesn’t ever like to talk about the past, but she also likes for me to see her as the responsible helper – and I think sometimes she wants someone to feel sorry for her (and weren’t we all pretty similar in that way at 12?) So while I wasn’t sure what to think of Chatty’s stories initially, I also wasn’t too concerned.
Until I noticed that mom really was less and less there. It has been months since I have spoken to or seen her. Months. Months of me picking up her daughter and taking her who knows where every week. She doesn't seem the least bit concerned.
The other weird thing that has happened is that Chatty has stopped inviting me in the house. It used to be that I would pick her up and she would invite me in while she put on her jacket and finished getting ready. Now though; she barely cracks the door open, tells me she’ll be right out, and quickly closes it. I don’t know that it means anything beyond her just being a teenager who is starting to become embarrassed of her home. She has been to my condo quite a few times, and it is drastically different in cleanliness levels. It is very possible she is just starting to become embarrassed about the differences. But I don’t know…
Last weekend I went to pick her up, and her little sister (6 years old) was outside playing. Chatty made a bee-line for my car when her little sister says “Yes! I’m going to be alone!” Obviously this stopped me in my tracks and I asked Chatty if she was supposed to be watching her sister. She looked up sheepishly and said “Oh yeah. I forgot.” To which her sister replied “It’s OK, I get left home alone all the time!”
I never did get to the bottom of the situation. I don’t know if Chatty was supposed to be watching her sister and was going to take a quick getaway anyway (possible – however, if that is the case she clearly isn’t responsible enough to be watching her little sister) or if her mom knew she was going to be leaving her sister home alone, and Chatty was playing the “I forgot” card because she knew I wouldn’t be OK with that (also possible – like I said, Chatty has been very careful when it comes to protecting her mom). I honestly don’t know which scenario it was, but I don’t really think either is good. Nor did I like little sisters declaration that she is left home alone all the time. We're not talking about a good neighborhood here, not that that would even make a difference. Regardless, we obviously did not end up leaving her.
I called BBBS that night and left them a message. I spoke to my coordinator on Monday and let loose all of my concerns. She confided in me that she has also had a difficult time getting a hold of mom. She said she wasn’t going to take any action yet, but that she was going to try calling mom to set up a meeting to go over the ground rules of the program again (one of the big ones is that in theory the parent should always be there when we pick up so that we can go over anything new with the child – the parent shouldn’t be looking at this as a babysitting service but rather as a partnership to improve the child’s life). She promised me that she would get back in touch with me when she spoke to the mother. I still haven’t heard from her, which I’m assuming means that no contact has been made.
Tonight I had plans with Chatty to go shopping. She is desperately in need of her first bra, so I had promised her we would go out and get her one.
(side note: The Gap, Old Navy, and Banana Republic are all having a 30% off sale this weekend with 5% of the proceeds going to BBBS – You can get the coupon to participate here).
I showed up at her house though and she wasn’t there. Her older sister was watching her younger sister and said that she wasn’t sure where she was. No one was really sure where she was.
The worst thing is, this isn’t the first time this has happened. In fact, this has happened probably 20 times since I first started working with Chatty. I remember being appalled that a 10 year old could be running around with no one responsible knowing where she was, but after a while it just started to become annoying. Her mom seemed to have no concern for keeping track of her schedule, and as a result far too often she would blame Chatty for forgetting rather than taking responsibility as a parent.
I’m just upset now. This little girl has no one holding her accountable or caring where she is, who she’s with, or what she’s doing at any given point at time. No one cares. And she knows it. She knows she can come and go as she pleases and that no one cares. There are no rules, no boundaries, and no expectations.
I want to not make this about me, but I almost can’t help it. I almost can’t help wondering why this woman gets 4 kids, and I may not get any. I know it is not up to me to understand God’s plan, but sometimes this situation hurts me so badly. Sometimes I catch myself thinking “I would have so much more to give. So much more love. So much more time. Just so much more. Why does she get 4 when it will be so hard for me just to have 1?”
It hurts me. It hurts me to watch and it hurts to feel like there is nothing I can do to improve this little girl’s life. I honestly do not think she would be better in foster care (at least now she has all her siblings), but I don’t think things are good the way they are either. I feel like she deserves so much better, but I don’t know how to help her get it.
And if we are being completely honest (and I am being completely selfish) I don’t know how much more of this I can continue to watch. It brings out the worst side of me. The selfish, jealous, angry side.
Chatty called me over an hour after I was originally supposed to pick her up and we arranged for me to come get her then. I’ll admit it; I was angry. Not so much at her, but just at the situation. I was angry that no one was keeping track of this child.
I was probably a little short with her the entire drive. I know it isn’t her fault, but I was still just frustrated with her for some reason. When we got to the store though, it was an entirely different experience. Her eyes lit up. She never gets new things. She never has clothes that are only hers. So little made such a big difference.
I typically try not to buy her too much because when I’ve done so in the past things have mysteriously disappeared within a few weeks. She has hinted that mom has sold the items, and it’s made me not want to feed into that. Therefore, I tend to spend most of the money I budget for Chatty on things we do rather than things she can take home.
But, the last year I have seen her in nothing but sweatpants and ratty t-shirts. She goes to school like that; in clothes that don’t fit and are better suited for bed than public. Seeing how excited she got, I just kept piling things on. We even went through the arduous task of finding a pair of jeans that fit her. She is a bigger girl, and we had to try quite a few pairs – I get embarrassed buying jeans for myself, so I know this wasn’t exactly fun for her. At least not until we found the perfect pair, then she was on cloud nine!
In the end I sent her home with a new bra, a new pair of jeans, a few new tops, and a hoodie. Nothing. Honestly nothing. I’ve been coveting a pair of boots that are 4 times what I spent on Chatty tonight, yet she was through the moon with excitement. She was talking about how much everyone at school was going to like her new green shirt, and how jealous her sister was going to be about her jeans. You would have thought I had just given her a new car for all the excitement and gratefulness she had.
And I felt like a jerk. Because, this isn’t about me. It has nothing to do with me. How can I look at that situation and allow myself to get so agitated when there is still so much I can do? How can I even consider quitting because it hurts my feelings to watch, when that little girl relies on me so much?
It is not about me. Not everything is about me. Sometimes other peoples stories are just more important.
And sometimes it takes so very little to show a child you care.
A child who desperately needs to know that someone cares.
March 18, 2010
Thanks But No Thanks
In the beginning (because yes, I do now feel as though my infertility journey has become a story with a very distinct beginning), after my first surgery but before my second; I enlisted the services of a matchmaker. I had been trying to repair what had been broken with The Ex, but I never knew from one day to another how that was going to work. I did know that he was dating other women (a fact he almost prided himself on telling me; after all, I had dumped him – he could now date whoever he wanted), and I also knew that reproductive issues were clearly going to be a part of my future. I had no idea how bad it was going to be yet, but I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I decided that if The Ex was dating, then I should be dating too. The problem was that everyone I knew, he knew. I just didn’t see how that was going to get me anywhere. Thus, I went and saw a matchmaker. I figured if anyone could find me my baby daddy, it would certainly be a person who has dedicated her life to such things.
I laid everything on the table. I told this woman about my past, my present, and my (hopeful) future. I told her I was ready to settle down and have babies, and that it was time for me to find Mr. Right. We talked for almost 2 hours, and the entire time she was writing down every word I said. It was intense! I really liked her though; I liked her philosophy and I liked everything she had to say – I was sold!
Until I saw her price sheets. Let me just tell you, there was no way. There was no way on this earth I was ever going to pay that much money to get a date. It wasn’t going to happen. For those prices, I could have rented a bar out myself, had hosted drinks, and invited every man in town. No way.
I told her no. I thanked her for her time, but I told her it wasn't possible that I could swing that (nor would I ever want to – I am not a girl who has to pay that kind of money for a date!) and I started to gather my things.
That’s when she stopped me. She told me that she had high paying clientele (to which I thought “more high paying than that?!?”) and that part of her job was to set some of those men up on dates with good looking, intelligent, and interesting women. She told me that I was exactly the kind of woman most of her clients were looking for, and that her job was to find them (the clients who had already paid the astronomical amounts) dates just as much as it was to bring in new clients. She told me we could help each other out, and she offered to give me her services for a fraction of the price; more in line with what I would have spent going out a few nights to bars looking for men.
I realized after the fact that I had basically just agreed to be an escort.
An escort who doesn’t get paid (or put out), but still an escort.
I had high hopes for my first day, until I met him. He was 40 (I am 26), balding, a good 3 inches shorter than me, and had never been married or had kids (although, he did say that he was now starting to think those things would be nice… at 40). Worse than any of that though, he was incredibly quiet. I’m not sure if I intimidated him, or if that was just his style, but… it was like pulling teeth to get a conversation out of him.
Now let me tell you something; I am a good dater. That is not bragging, it is just the truth. I am also good at job interviews. I know how to connect with people, and in a one on one situation I typically do pretty well (put me in a group situation though, and I slink into the shadows like a complete wallflower!) I do dates well. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a first date where the guy hasn’t asked for a second. Similarly, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a job interview where I haven’t been offered the position. I’m good at one on one.
So, I knew this guy was interested in me. I could see him warming up to me, and I just kept thinking “Turn it off. Stop being so nice! He is going to get the wrong idea!” But I couldn’t. I couldn’t sit there awkwardly and make it clear I wasn’t interested; I couldn’t be rude!
As the meal wore on, he let it be known that he made good money (because, what kind of classy guy wouldn’t drop hints about his paycheck on a first date?) and that he was really looking for a woman to “take care of”… I mention this only because it makes it even more amusing when I tell you that he thought it would be best if we split the check at the end of the meal.
Which I happily did, even though I had pasta and 1 glass of wine and he had steak and 3 beers. I didn’t want this guy thinking I owed him anything!
When I got the call the next day from the matchmaker that he had really liked me and wanted to know if he could have my personal information so we could start dating for real, I told her that under no circumstances should she give him my number.
Next.
I was a little surprised that a certified matchmaker would set me up with someone so clearly (on so many levels) not right for me, but I figured maybe it was just a fluke. I was totally ready to give her another try.
Which was when I went out with this guy, who very quickly turned out to be this guy.
Game over.
I was so overwhelmed by how many boundaries he seemed to cross, that I decided that maybe this whole thing wasn’t for me. Maybe guys who are willing to pay such ungodly amounts to find a date are willing to do so for a reason. And maybe my urgency to find my baby daddy (by the time I went on that date, I had learned that a baby likely needed to happen now or never) had clouded my ability to pay attention to what I really wanted. After all, I had agreed to go on a second date with Stalker Cop against my better judgment. I normally never even would have gone on a first date with him.
So, I pulled out. I called the matchmaker and told her that now just wasn’t the best time for me to be dating, and I asked her to remove me from her list.
Today I received an e-mail from her. She wanted to know what was going on in my life, and if I would like to start going on dates again soon.
Well... I wouldn’t mind going on a date now, but not so much with guys who are clearly not my type and have stalker potential.
Thanks, but no thanks.
I sent her a quick e-mail that listed all the different writing projects I’m working on right now, and how busy I've been. At the end I stated that I am pursuing IVF in November, and that I am very much so looking forward to my future as a mother.
Her response was “So… Would you like to remain on hold then?”
Yes. Yes, I would like to remain “on hold”. Preferably for life thank you!
Maybe I am being too hard on her, because she really was the nicest lady, but… Neither of the guys she set me up with were guys I would have picked for myself (not that the guys I’ve picked out for myself have been all that great!) and they both seemed to have some… issues. Possibly even bigger issues than my own.
I can only imagine the guys she would have found for me now that IVF is in my future.
“I’ve got this great girl! She is fun and smart and is planning on getting pregnant with a strange man’s sperm in just a few months. I’m sure you are going to love her!”
Talk about a weed out process! If I wasn’t getting the bottom of the barrel before, I don’t even want to know what I would be getting now.
Thanks, but no thanks.
I’ll just stick to making eyes at guys at the grocery store and hoping one of them get’s the hint.
I laid everything on the table. I told this woman about my past, my present, and my (hopeful) future. I told her I was ready to settle down and have babies, and that it was time for me to find Mr. Right. We talked for almost 2 hours, and the entire time she was writing down every word I said. It was intense! I really liked her though; I liked her philosophy and I liked everything she had to say – I was sold!
Until I saw her price sheets. Let me just tell you, there was no way. There was no way on this earth I was ever going to pay that much money to get a date. It wasn’t going to happen. For those prices, I could have rented a bar out myself, had hosted drinks, and invited every man in town. No way.
I told her no. I thanked her for her time, but I told her it wasn't possible that I could swing that (nor would I ever want to – I am not a girl who has to pay that kind of money for a date!) and I started to gather my things.
That’s when she stopped me. She told me that she had high paying clientele (to which I thought “more high paying than that?!?”) and that part of her job was to set some of those men up on dates with good looking, intelligent, and interesting women. She told me that I was exactly the kind of woman most of her clients were looking for, and that her job was to find them (the clients who had already paid the astronomical amounts) dates just as much as it was to bring in new clients. She told me we could help each other out, and she offered to give me her services for a fraction of the price; more in line with what I would have spent going out a few nights to bars looking for men.
I realized after the fact that I had basically just agreed to be an escort.
An escort who doesn’t get paid (or put out), but still an escort.
I had high hopes for my first day, until I met him. He was 40 (I am 26), balding, a good 3 inches shorter than me, and had never been married or had kids (although, he did say that he was now starting to think those things would be nice… at 40). Worse than any of that though, he was incredibly quiet. I’m not sure if I intimidated him, or if that was just his style, but… it was like pulling teeth to get a conversation out of him.
Now let me tell you something; I am a good dater. That is not bragging, it is just the truth. I am also good at job interviews. I know how to connect with people, and in a one on one situation I typically do pretty well (put me in a group situation though, and I slink into the shadows like a complete wallflower!) I do dates well. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a first date where the guy hasn’t asked for a second. Similarly, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a job interview where I haven’t been offered the position. I’m good at one on one.
So, I knew this guy was interested in me. I could see him warming up to me, and I just kept thinking “Turn it off. Stop being so nice! He is going to get the wrong idea!” But I couldn’t. I couldn’t sit there awkwardly and make it clear I wasn’t interested; I couldn’t be rude!
As the meal wore on, he let it be known that he made good money (because, what kind of classy guy wouldn’t drop hints about his paycheck on a first date?) and that he was really looking for a woman to “take care of”… I mention this only because it makes it even more amusing when I tell you that he thought it would be best if we split the check at the end of the meal.
Which I happily did, even though I had pasta and 1 glass of wine and he had steak and 3 beers. I didn’t want this guy thinking I owed him anything!
When I got the call the next day from the matchmaker that he had really liked me and wanted to know if he could have my personal information so we could start dating for real, I told her that under no circumstances should she give him my number.
Next.
I was a little surprised that a certified matchmaker would set me up with someone so clearly (on so many levels) not right for me, but I figured maybe it was just a fluke. I was totally ready to give her another try.
Which was when I went out with this guy, who very quickly turned out to be this guy.
Game over.
I was so overwhelmed by how many boundaries he seemed to cross, that I decided that maybe this whole thing wasn’t for me. Maybe guys who are willing to pay such ungodly amounts to find a date are willing to do so for a reason. And maybe my urgency to find my baby daddy (by the time I went on that date, I had learned that a baby likely needed to happen now or never) had clouded my ability to pay attention to what I really wanted. After all, I had agreed to go on a second date with Stalker Cop against my better judgment. I normally never even would have gone on a first date with him.
So, I pulled out. I called the matchmaker and told her that now just wasn’t the best time for me to be dating, and I asked her to remove me from her list.
Today I received an e-mail from her. She wanted to know what was going on in my life, and if I would like to start going on dates again soon.
Well... I wouldn’t mind going on a date now, but not so much with guys who are clearly not my type and have stalker potential.
Thanks, but no thanks.
I sent her a quick e-mail that listed all the different writing projects I’m working on right now, and how busy I've been. At the end I stated that I am pursuing IVF in November, and that I am very much so looking forward to my future as a mother.
Her response was “So… Would you like to remain on hold then?”
Yes. Yes, I would like to remain “on hold”. Preferably for life thank you!
Maybe I am being too hard on her, because she really was the nicest lady, but… Neither of the guys she set me up with were guys I would have picked for myself (not that the guys I’ve picked out for myself have been all that great!) and they both seemed to have some… issues. Possibly even bigger issues than my own.
I can only imagine the guys she would have found for me now that IVF is in my future.
“I’ve got this great girl! She is fun and smart and is planning on getting pregnant with a strange man’s sperm in just a few months. I’m sure you are going to love her!”
Talk about a weed out process! If I wasn’t getting the bottom of the barrel before, I don’t even want to know what I would be getting now.
Thanks, but no thanks.
I’ll just stick to making eyes at guys at the grocery store and hoping one of them get’s the hint.
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