I have a problem. I am a doer. I can’t think of a time in my life when I haven’t had a goal in mind; some huge thing in the distant future that I was working towards.
Something that I was positive would make all the difference in the world for my life.
The problem is, that as soon as I accomplish one goal I set the next. It is this never-ending cycle. I go all in on something until I’ve obtained it, and then I move on to the next venture.
There is nothing wrong with being goal oriented, and I am actually proud of my ability to look at a problem and seek out all possible solutions. I am proud of the way I handle challenges and the fact that I am able to accomplish just about anything I set my mind to.
My dad will tell you that I have been like this since I was a child. I would come up with a plan, he would tell me it would never work, and then I would gloat when it did.
The man has learned to stop questioning me!
The main issue with my constant drive for more though, is the fact that sometimes I get so caught up in the goal I am working towards that I forget to enjoy the goals I’ve already reached. I forget to bask in the glory of success because I already have another goal in mind.
Sometimes I just forget to focus on the here and now.
I was at the hospital last night. The ex’s dad had heart surgery, and his sister asked me to swing by. Since I knew he was still out of town for work, I figured this was a safe enough move - although, I'm sure it would have been fine even if he was here. I have remained close to his family and was concerned about his dad (and also his mom, who I knew was struggling with this), but I hadn’t initially wanted to intrude upon their family time. I knew he would never mind (he was the one who encouraged his mom to be there for me through the fallout that was my last surgery - he knows I love his family), but I still wasn't sure it was my place. When his sister made it clear I was wanted there though, I made my way down.
And we laughed. For hours we sat in that hospital room and just laughed. There was a lot of talk about the ex that was a little uncomfortable for me (members of his extended family were there who I haven’t seen in a while and who had questions about our status), but for the most part there was just a lot of laughter.
I caught myself thinking “Life would be perfect if… this was my family.” So silly and simple, but I couldn’t help but feel like I have always fit in with this family; like I have always belonged to them in some way. I found myself thinking how nice it would be if he and I could figure everything out, and these people really were my family. If I could have him and them… Life might just feel complete.
I do this a lot with the baby too. This thought process that is very future oriented. Life will be perfect as soon as I get those two lines. I’ll be able to relax as soon as I make it past 25 weeks. I’ll be at ease when I have that child in my arms. Nothing else will matter when it is me and my baby.
And don’t even get me started on my writing! I have thrown myself into my writing in such a huge way in the last 4 months. In many ways it is starting to pay off and I can see a light at the end of the tunnel where I really could make a career out of putting my words on paper. You want to know a secret though? That only makes me even more driven. Seeing the progress has just made me buckle down further. I keep telling myself I will relax when it is enough for me to be a stay at home mom, but will it ever be enough?
Or will there always be something more I want?
The truth is, my life is pretty perfect. Right now, just the way it is, I am luckier than most. I live in the most beautiful state in this country (I don’t even care if I am biased!) and the sun has been coming out more and more beckoning me to get outside and enjoy it. I have friendships that I know not all women can boast. I have started eating meat, and it doesn’t make me want to die the way I thought it would. I am 100% capable of taking care of and providing for myself. I have an HR representative who went to bat for me and now I have weekly acupuncture appointments that help me immensely and are covered by insurance. I have family who loves me.
And, I am going to be a mom. I realize that it is still focusing on the future to think of that, but even just sitting on that thought in the here and now warms my heart. It is the most important goal I have ever had, and just dreaming about obtaining it makes me happy.
I am going to be a mom. No matter what. This much I know.
Some days I wish I was better at focusing on the present. I wish I was more capable of recognizing the blessings I already have and acknowledging the accomplishments I’ve already made. I have come so far in this life – I have jumped through hoops to have the life I have now.
And it is a good life. A beautiful life even. A life I forget to enjoy as often as I should.
If I were to let go of all the other goals today though, could I be happy? Could I sit in the here and now and never want for another thing?
I doubt it. I am a doer. A goal-accomplisher. And before I am willing to say that I am completely content with my life just the way it is, there is still one piece that is missing. One piece I am fairly sure I couldn’t do without.
That piece is not the man.
It is not the career of my dreams.
It is not a place, or money, or feeling.
The only piece in my life really missing right now is a baby.
Growing, living, and thriving inside of me.
Life will be perfect when…
ADSPACE
April 30, 2010
April 29, 2010
The Back-up Plan
Almost two months ago I got an e-mail from one of you with a link to the trailer for The Back-up Plan. The e-mail said “Hollywood owes you a check!” I knew instantly that I had to see this movie!
Over the next few months, several people got in touch with me to make sure I had seen the previews. Everyone likes a happy ending, and I think most of you like the idea of me ending up with a fabulous man and a baby at the end of this.
And for that – I thank you all!
Mrs. King actually reserved the right to take me to see this over a month ago, so we made plans to go last night. Obviously not the most well laid out plans though, seeing as we both wound up at different theaters.
You’ve got to love that. There are only two theaters in this entire town that are playing that movie, and we each wound up at one of them!
By the time I got myself to the theater she was at, the previews were just ending and the movie was beginning – perfect timing. I settled into my seat fully expecting to either love this movie or hate it; I didn’t anticipate any kind of wishy-washy in between on this one.
Here’s the part where I give you a disclaimer that there may be a few spoilers in this post. Really though, do any of us not know how this movie is going to end? I’m pretty sure that even if you haven’t seen it, there won’t be any surprises here!
It was kind of like Titanic in that way.
It was actually pretty funny. I was surprised in fact, at how much I was laughing. Some of the characters were just hysterical, and I could certainly relate to some of the things about this process that you just have to be able to laugh about.
It struck a nerve too though. I left the theater with this odd mix of emotion, knowing that two years ago I probably would have loved this movie but that something about it wouldn’t let me love it now.
Maybe it’s because part of me knew something was missing. There were a few jokes about the sperm donor she picked (redhead with freckles), but no insight at all into her selection process. I’ve got to say, I would have loved to see that play out. I can tell you all right now that as much as this decision has stressed me out; there is also something flat out funny about shopping for sperm online. It’s like internet dating – only more disturbing!
The Single Mothers By Choice group that was depicted was also way over the top. I totally get it for comedic appeal, but as a soon to be single mother by choice I had to fight the urge to scream “I am not that crunchy!” These women were loopy for sure, and I was almost a little bit embarrassed to be one of them. I had to keep reminding myself that this movie is not real life and that comedies often exaggerate circumstances to get a laugh. I had to keep telling myself that no one sees me as being quite that granola.
Right?
The part that hit the hardest though, was the man. Let me just tell you a little bit about this man: First of all, he is a cheese maker. Have I ever discussed with you all my addiction to cheese? Really, it isn’t healthy. I was at Natural Pantry today (kind of like Whole Foods but not as good) salivating over some new goat cheese in stock. It’s in my car right now just waiting for me to devour it. I’m thinking I’m going to make a beet salad and then just overload it with goat cheese. It’s going to be fabulous!
So yeah, a hot cheese maker would pretty much instantaneously win my heart. Prince charming is overrated – give me a man who makes cheese!
The thing that threw me though, was how quickly he fell into the Daddy role. I mean sure, he had a minor panic attack when he found out she was pregnant (they had only been on 2 dates, and she told him right after they slept together for the first time – which is so something I would probably do by the way. I have the most awkward timing you have ever seen!) After that freak out though, he was suddenly ready to be Daddy. From what I could tell he moved in with her, started planning how to financially support her and the baby, and went along to her very first doctor’s appointment like it was his natural place.
There was no “let’s take this slow” or “I think we should see where this goes without too much pressure”. Instead, he was pretty much all in. In fact, despite the normal panics I think most dads have (about money and how to be a parent); he never once seemed to question his role as the father.
Call me cynical, but really? Would that ever happen in a million years? I’m not saying a guy couldn’t step into that role, I’m just saying I don’t see it happening so fast. In fact, if a guy I had just started dating tried to take that position right out the gate I would probably be really freaked out!
Which is why I totally related when it was Jennifer Lopez who pulled away. It was she and her inability to trust that really threatened the relationship.
His words "When you do the autopsy here, just know that you have no one to blame for this but yourself" kind of sliced me open like a knife.
Stop me if no one sees the parallels here.
At one point she gets a lecture from her grandmother about the kind of life she will lead if she always pushes people away, and I had to fight back the tears. It could have been my grandmother talking to me.
I am a pusher. I have certainly gotten better over the years, but I still cut people off far too easily. If someone hurts me (or I fear they may hurt me) I tend to pull away – and quickly. I do this with all my relationships, not just romantic. I decided a long time ago that I would rather be lonely than betrayed, and I have for the most part stuck by that assertion.
But more and more lately I see that plan as leading me further down the path to lonely if I don’t learn to resist the urge to flee. I’ve gotten better at it in regards to friendships (and have a few incredible friendships to show for it), but I still feel myself shutting down when it comes to romantic relationships. I know myself, and if I were in Jennifer Lopez’s shoes – I probably wouldn’t have stuck it out even as long as she did! That is a scary situation and there is a lot on the line!
They wound up working it out though. Letting their love happen and living happily ever after.
And I left the theater feeling like a failure. If Jennifer Lopez can make it work, why can’t I?
And where on earth is my gorgeous cheese maker?!?
I think I’m going to stick to scary movies for a little while.
Rom Coms make me think too hard.
Over the next few months, several people got in touch with me to make sure I had seen the previews. Everyone likes a happy ending, and I think most of you like the idea of me ending up with a fabulous man and a baby at the end of this.
And for that – I thank you all!
Mrs. King actually reserved the right to take me to see this over a month ago, so we made plans to go last night. Obviously not the most well laid out plans though, seeing as we both wound up at different theaters.
You’ve got to love that. There are only two theaters in this entire town that are playing that movie, and we each wound up at one of them!
By the time I got myself to the theater she was at, the previews were just ending and the movie was beginning – perfect timing. I settled into my seat fully expecting to either love this movie or hate it; I didn’t anticipate any kind of wishy-washy in between on this one.
Here’s the part where I give you a disclaimer that there may be a few spoilers in this post. Really though, do any of us not know how this movie is going to end? I’m pretty sure that even if you haven’t seen it, there won’t be any surprises here!
It was kind of like Titanic in that way.
It was actually pretty funny. I was surprised in fact, at how much I was laughing. Some of the characters were just hysterical, and I could certainly relate to some of the things about this process that you just have to be able to laugh about.
It struck a nerve too though. I left the theater with this odd mix of emotion, knowing that two years ago I probably would have loved this movie but that something about it wouldn’t let me love it now.
Maybe it’s because part of me knew something was missing. There were a few jokes about the sperm donor she picked (redhead with freckles), but no insight at all into her selection process. I’ve got to say, I would have loved to see that play out. I can tell you all right now that as much as this decision has stressed me out; there is also something flat out funny about shopping for sperm online. It’s like internet dating – only more disturbing!
The Single Mothers By Choice group that was depicted was also way over the top. I totally get it for comedic appeal, but as a soon to be single mother by choice I had to fight the urge to scream “I am not that crunchy!” These women were loopy for sure, and I was almost a little bit embarrassed to be one of them. I had to keep reminding myself that this movie is not real life and that comedies often exaggerate circumstances to get a laugh. I had to keep telling myself that no one sees me as being quite that granola.
Right?
The part that hit the hardest though, was the man. Let me just tell you a little bit about this man: First of all, he is a cheese maker. Have I ever discussed with you all my addiction to cheese? Really, it isn’t healthy. I was at Natural Pantry today (kind of like Whole Foods but not as good) salivating over some new goat cheese in stock. It’s in my car right now just waiting for me to devour it. I’m thinking I’m going to make a beet salad and then just overload it with goat cheese. It’s going to be fabulous!
So yeah, a hot cheese maker would pretty much instantaneously win my heart. Prince charming is overrated – give me a man who makes cheese!
The thing that threw me though, was how quickly he fell into the Daddy role. I mean sure, he had a minor panic attack when he found out she was pregnant (they had only been on 2 dates, and she told him right after they slept together for the first time – which is so something I would probably do by the way. I have the most awkward timing you have ever seen!) After that freak out though, he was suddenly ready to be Daddy. From what I could tell he moved in with her, started planning how to financially support her and the baby, and went along to her very first doctor’s appointment like it was his natural place.
There was no “let’s take this slow” or “I think we should see where this goes without too much pressure”. Instead, he was pretty much all in. In fact, despite the normal panics I think most dads have (about money and how to be a parent); he never once seemed to question his role as the father.
Call me cynical, but really? Would that ever happen in a million years? I’m not saying a guy couldn’t step into that role, I’m just saying I don’t see it happening so fast. In fact, if a guy I had just started dating tried to take that position right out the gate I would probably be really freaked out!
Which is why I totally related when it was Jennifer Lopez who pulled away. It was she and her inability to trust that really threatened the relationship.
His words "When you do the autopsy here, just know that you have no one to blame for this but yourself" kind of sliced me open like a knife.
Stop me if no one sees the parallels here.
At one point she gets a lecture from her grandmother about the kind of life she will lead if she always pushes people away, and I had to fight back the tears. It could have been my grandmother talking to me.
I am a pusher. I have certainly gotten better over the years, but I still cut people off far too easily. If someone hurts me (or I fear they may hurt me) I tend to pull away – and quickly. I do this with all my relationships, not just romantic. I decided a long time ago that I would rather be lonely than betrayed, and I have for the most part stuck by that assertion.
But more and more lately I see that plan as leading me further down the path to lonely if I don’t learn to resist the urge to flee. I’ve gotten better at it in regards to friendships (and have a few incredible friendships to show for it), but I still feel myself shutting down when it comes to romantic relationships. I know myself, and if I were in Jennifer Lopez’s shoes – I probably wouldn’t have stuck it out even as long as she did! That is a scary situation and there is a lot on the line!
They wound up working it out though. Letting their love happen and living happily ever after.
And I left the theater feeling like a failure. If Jennifer Lopez can make it work, why can’t I?
And where on earth is my gorgeous cheese maker?!?
I think I’m going to stick to scary movies for a little while.
Rom Coms make me think too hard.
April 28, 2010
Coming Out
I came out of the closet today.
At work.
Kind of.
It all started with a letter. A letter I got last week that pretty much crushed me. A letter that stated that my acupuncture claims had been denied by my insurance company.
A letter that basically told me that I would a.) Have to quit acupuncture (there is just no way I could afford it) and b.) Have to pay out of pocket the few thousand dollars in claims that had already been submitted.
Yep. That one hurt.
Financially, I was sick to my stomach. But it went so far beyond that. Acupuncture is the first thing I have tried since any of this started that has offered me any relief. My energy levels are up, my pain is down, and I haven’t thrown up in over a month. Not to mention – Teeny is the first practitioner I have seen who has been focused on resolving the root cause of my problems and paying attention to my entire body rather than focusing on symptoms only. I really do love my doctor, but all of my treatments have lead to the need for more treatments. And nothing has stopped my endo. At least with Teeny I feel like we are focusing on overall health, rather than treating one area while facing the risk of damage to another.
Not to mention, the woman has called me multiple times in the last week just to check up on that whole faux blood clot situation. I couldn’t even get an ER doctor to touch me, but Teeny has been consulting with specialists and checking up to make sure I’m still standing.
I’ve got to say, my faith in her over Western medicine goes up more every day.
So I cried. The idea of quitting killed me. I knew I couldn’t afford it, but part of me wondered: could I really afford to quit?
I made a plan to fight the insurance company. They denied me on the grounds that acupuncture was not medically necessary for my condition. Do you want to tell me what an insurance company would actually deem was medically necessary for acupuncture? Of course they're going to deny me on that basis; because they can! The language in my plan states that acupuncture will only be approved when deemed medically necessary, so I’m guessing they tell everyone their claim isn’t medically necessary. The difference was that I had a referral from an actual medical practitioner for acupuncture. I was going to fight this.
Before calling the insurance company, I called my HR representative; just to make sure I was going about this the right way. She asked me to come to her office right then and there with the information from the insurance company.
And let me tell you, that woman went to bat for me. She made copies, she sent faxes, and she shot out e-mails – all on my behalf. All to get me approved.
This morning I received an e-mail from her. The insurance company has decided to approve acupuncture for me – for as many visits and as long as I need.
I was shocked. I am not kidding you when I say that I did not lift a finger. She did all the leg work for me. She did everything. She fought for me, and I am insanely grateful. So grateful in fact that I am going to go out this evening and at least pick up a card for her. I feel like it’s not enough, but it's all I can really afford right now. I just feel like I have to do something to thank her.
Shortly after sending that e-mail, she asked me to come to her office because she had something to show me.
When I popped in, she pulled out a book of letters she had received from kids she worked with through a Junior Achievement program. She said she knew I was passionate about working with children (most the people at my office know I’m involved in Big Brothers Big Sisters) and she was wondering if I would be interested in getting involved in the Junior Achievement program as well. From what I understand, it is a program where people in the professional community go out to schools and talk to classrooms once a week. There is a curriculum, and you work with the same class for 5 weeks at a time. My company would allow me the time off to do this, and she said she thought I would be a perfect fit.
Suddenly I started to feel guilty.
You see, I have this concern. I’ve actually had it for a while in reference to Chatty. I’m afraid of being a bad example to her. I’m afraid that I can’t maintain my role as someone to look up to in her life while also pursuing a role as a single mother. I’m afraid it sends mixed signals as to what young girls should want from their lives. It’s something I’ve been mulling over a lot in regards to Chatty, because I’m just not sure she needs to see one more woman get pregnant without a husband. She does look up to me, and I’m just not sure she should see me actually pursuing this.
I don’t think single motherhood should be an ultimate goal for most people. If I had my choice, I would have a husband in this. I think choosing to go it alone is the more difficult path, and that path has a lot of bumps along the way. I am ready to be a single mother, and it is a choice I am making with an open heart. But I don’t want Chatty (or other young girls) to see me make this choice and turn it into something other than what it is. For me, in my life, this is what needs to happen right now. But I don’t believe it is the best option for everyone; if it weren't for my endometriosis I wouldn't believe it was the best option for me. I don’t want to give the impression that single motherhood is a goal most women should try to attain.
Seeing as I’ve been torn on this already, and Mrs. HR was questioning whether I would like to get involved working with even more young kids; I had to come clean. I had to step out of the infertility closet and explain my plans.
So, I did it. I told the first person at my work about my plans for IVF in July. She had already been so kind to me already, and I just didn’t feel right lying to her about my hesitation to get involved.
Plus, there was that part of me that knew that what I said would have to remain confidential. Knowing this helped to alleviate some of my fear about idle company gossip.
You know what? She took it so well! She talked to me for 20 minutes about my concerns and fears, and also my joy and excitement about this process. She was genuine and warm and totally understanding. There was no judgment or concern about how this could affect my work; just excitement for me!
I’ve been trying so hard to keep this secret out of work. I don’t want to deal with the uncomfortable stares of people, the awkward conversations, or the pity should this fail. I didn’t want to have anyone questioning whether my work would start to suffer, or if I really knew what I was doing. I wanted to be able to continue maintaining my professionalism at my job. I just wanted one arena of my life that was IVF free.
But I have to tell you; there was something liberating about letting the cat out of the bag too. A guilt that I have held about being dishonest at work was released. Someone knows now – I have told the truth about my plans for July. I have been honest about my goal to be a single mother.
And there is relief in that.
Especially because I know she can’t tell another soul!
At work.
Kind of.
It all started with a letter. A letter I got last week that pretty much crushed me. A letter that stated that my acupuncture claims had been denied by my insurance company.
A letter that basically told me that I would a.) Have to quit acupuncture (there is just no way I could afford it) and b.) Have to pay out of pocket the few thousand dollars in claims that had already been submitted.
Yep. That one hurt.
Financially, I was sick to my stomach. But it went so far beyond that. Acupuncture is the first thing I have tried since any of this started that has offered me any relief. My energy levels are up, my pain is down, and I haven’t thrown up in over a month. Not to mention – Teeny is the first practitioner I have seen who has been focused on resolving the root cause of my problems and paying attention to my entire body rather than focusing on symptoms only. I really do love my doctor, but all of my treatments have lead to the need for more treatments. And nothing has stopped my endo. At least with Teeny I feel like we are focusing on overall health, rather than treating one area while facing the risk of damage to another.
Not to mention, the woman has called me multiple times in the last week just to check up on that whole faux blood clot situation. I couldn’t even get an ER doctor to touch me, but Teeny has been consulting with specialists and checking up to make sure I’m still standing.
I’ve got to say, my faith in her over Western medicine goes up more every day.
So I cried. The idea of quitting killed me. I knew I couldn’t afford it, but part of me wondered: could I really afford to quit?
I made a plan to fight the insurance company. They denied me on the grounds that acupuncture was not medically necessary for my condition. Do you want to tell me what an insurance company would actually deem was medically necessary for acupuncture? Of course they're going to deny me on that basis; because they can! The language in my plan states that acupuncture will only be approved when deemed medically necessary, so I’m guessing they tell everyone their claim isn’t medically necessary. The difference was that I had a referral from an actual medical practitioner for acupuncture. I was going to fight this.
Before calling the insurance company, I called my HR representative; just to make sure I was going about this the right way. She asked me to come to her office right then and there with the information from the insurance company.
And let me tell you, that woman went to bat for me. She made copies, she sent faxes, and she shot out e-mails – all on my behalf. All to get me approved.
This morning I received an e-mail from her. The insurance company has decided to approve acupuncture for me – for as many visits and as long as I need.
I was shocked. I am not kidding you when I say that I did not lift a finger. She did all the leg work for me. She did everything. She fought for me, and I am insanely grateful. So grateful in fact that I am going to go out this evening and at least pick up a card for her. I feel like it’s not enough, but it's all I can really afford right now. I just feel like I have to do something to thank her.
Shortly after sending that e-mail, she asked me to come to her office because she had something to show me.
When I popped in, she pulled out a book of letters she had received from kids she worked with through a Junior Achievement program. She said she knew I was passionate about working with children (most the people at my office know I’m involved in Big Brothers Big Sisters) and she was wondering if I would be interested in getting involved in the Junior Achievement program as well. From what I understand, it is a program where people in the professional community go out to schools and talk to classrooms once a week. There is a curriculum, and you work with the same class for 5 weeks at a time. My company would allow me the time off to do this, and she said she thought I would be a perfect fit.
Suddenly I started to feel guilty.
You see, I have this concern. I’ve actually had it for a while in reference to Chatty. I’m afraid of being a bad example to her. I’m afraid that I can’t maintain my role as someone to look up to in her life while also pursuing a role as a single mother. I’m afraid it sends mixed signals as to what young girls should want from their lives. It’s something I’ve been mulling over a lot in regards to Chatty, because I’m just not sure she needs to see one more woman get pregnant without a husband. She does look up to me, and I’m just not sure she should see me actually pursuing this.
I don’t think single motherhood should be an ultimate goal for most people. If I had my choice, I would have a husband in this. I think choosing to go it alone is the more difficult path, and that path has a lot of bumps along the way. I am ready to be a single mother, and it is a choice I am making with an open heart. But I don’t want Chatty (or other young girls) to see me make this choice and turn it into something other than what it is. For me, in my life, this is what needs to happen right now. But I don’t believe it is the best option for everyone; if it weren't for my endometriosis I wouldn't believe it was the best option for me. I don’t want to give the impression that single motherhood is a goal most women should try to attain.
Seeing as I’ve been torn on this already, and Mrs. HR was questioning whether I would like to get involved working with even more young kids; I had to come clean. I had to step out of the infertility closet and explain my plans.
So, I did it. I told the first person at my work about my plans for IVF in July. She had already been so kind to me already, and I just didn’t feel right lying to her about my hesitation to get involved.
Plus, there was that part of me that knew that what I said would have to remain confidential. Knowing this helped to alleviate some of my fear about idle company gossip.
You know what? She took it so well! She talked to me for 20 minutes about my concerns and fears, and also my joy and excitement about this process. She was genuine and warm and totally understanding. There was no judgment or concern about how this could affect my work; just excitement for me!
I’ve been trying so hard to keep this secret out of work. I don’t want to deal with the uncomfortable stares of people, the awkward conversations, or the pity should this fail. I didn’t want to have anyone questioning whether my work would start to suffer, or if I really knew what I was doing. I wanted to be able to continue maintaining my professionalism at my job. I just wanted one arena of my life that was IVF free.
But I have to tell you; there was something liberating about letting the cat out of the bag too. A guilt that I have held about being dishonest at work was released. Someone knows now – I have told the truth about my plans for July. I have been honest about my goal to be a single mother.
And there is relief in that.
Especially because I know she can’t tell another soul!
April 27, 2010
Defining a Woman
I’m trying to unveil the mystery of my soul, and I’m not sure I like what I’m seeing.
Let me step back. I’m doing a new bible study with a group of women from the community. The study is Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman’s Soul by John and Stasi Eldredge. We’re only a week in, so if you would still like to join up you are welcome to do so.
I already got kicked in the gut by this study though, and it’s only the first week. It made me confront some issues I’m not sure I was prepared to confront. Some things I'm ashamed to admit.
One of the questions asked was when you last felt alive as a woman. All I could think was “I’m not sure I even know what that means, but I’ll bet I feel it when I have a baby.”
And there it is. In black and white. Right now, I have my womanhood dependent upon my ability to birth a child.
Can we just step back for a second and acknowledge that those feelings are real? I’m not saying I should feel that way, or that anyone else in my shoes should feel that way, but – I don’t want to have to deny that I feel it either. There is a voice in my head that has already told me I am less of a woman because I can’t do this on my own; because I will never do this on my own. A voice that says that if I can’t do this at all, I might as well hand my membership card to the ladies club back in.
I'm not even sure where this ladies club is, but I'm pretty sure they are reviewing my application thoroughly lately; just waiting for a reason to revoke my privileges.
That voice in my head has especially been mocking me the last few days and telling me that no matter when Mr. Right comes along, I will not likely be able to give him a biological child. By the time he comes into my life, chances are my ovaries are going to be gone and quite possibly my uterus too. I never thought I cared so much about genes and blood, but when I think about that future husband who I won’t be able to produce a bio baby for; my heart hurts a little.
I know everyone is itching to type comments away right now telling me not to base my womanhood on my ability to produce and carry a child, but can we just be honest for a second and admit that most of us do? Sure, there are women who are childless by choice and I fully respect them and that choice. There are also women who go straight to adoption without even contemplating fertility treatments, and I also hold all kinds of admiration and respect for them. But for many of us, childbirth is the crux of womanhood; isn’t it?
My biggest fear going into both of my surgeries was waking up and being told I had needed a hysterectomy. The first words out of my mouth both times were "Am I empty?" And I cried when the answer was "no". Deep sobs. I was not prepared to lose those parts of myself, and it was only upon hearing "no" both times that I was able to acknowledge that fear of my loss of womanhood.
I’m not alone in this; am I?
When you think about this on a strictly biological level, one of the things that sets us apart from men is the fact that we can carry children. Recently I asked a group of women what their greatest achievement was and many of them had responses that fell along the lines of childbirth. It is very easy for a fertile woman to look at an infertile woman and say “you shouldn’t feel that way”, but I think if we are being 100% honest; it’s not an unnatural feeling.
I feel like less of a woman. I’m not going to pretend like that’s not true. Let’s forget about that little testosterone issue, or the fact that my hair is still coming out in clumps (seriously – I went to run my fingers through my hair today while I was talking to my boss and a giant chunk came out. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m dying.) When I remember that the only way I will ever achieve a pregnancy is through massive amounts of intervention, I get kind of sad.
And so this week I was focusing on what it means to be a true woman; to be alive as a woman. I was trying to figure out what it is that God wants from me as a woman specifically. Is it to persevere? To stand strong? To make lemonade out of life’s lemons?
To nurture?
I am a nurturer at heart, and it is possible that God’s plan for me as a woman goes so far beyond bearing a child. It is possible that he wants me to Nurture many children. It is possible that he has been preparing my heart for the disappointment of failure so that I can further open it up to adoption.
I’m terrified of that possibility and I will pray with everything in me that God grants me at least one pregnancy. But if I don’t get that, will I be able to move past it? Will I be able to embrace my womanhood despite my bareness?
I honestly don’t know. Is it OK to not know? To not know if I will still be able to feel like a woman if I can’t carry a child?
God has been working on patience in my heart lately. I think He knows that I want to know the plan, and He is trying to teach me that it isn’t mine to know. No matter what happens I believe that the plan God has for me is better than anything I can imagine. I believe He will get me through whatever comes next; whether that be the trials of single motherhood or the defeat of a failed cycle. I believe He has a plan for me, and I just need to stop trying to control every minor detail right now. I need to let it go and to let Him take the reins.
My first step is choosing a donor. I think I know who I’ve chosen. I want to give it a few days to really sink in, but I think I’ve stopped trying to overanalyze every minor detail of those men. I think I’ve realized that it doesn’t really matter who I choose because I will love that resulting baby no matter what. It dawned on me today that I was making this decision far more difficult than it had to be, and that by letting up on my need to control; the entire decision suddenly became simple.
I got an e-mail today from an old friend. She was telling me about something going on in her life, and I had to stop and re-read what she wrote because I could have written it myself. She wrote:
I know for me it’s all about the fear of the unknown… I guess that just amounts to lack of faith... I have to remember that in all things big and small God is in control and won’t fail me. That’s so hard for me to get sometimes because of my situation growing up. I have always had to depend on myself and I was always the caretaker in my home growing up...its hard as an adult to relinquish control...I guess it’s a work in progress. He's still working on me.
He’s still working on me too. And I think that is what God is trying to teach me with my life right now. That I can’t control it all. That it’s possible I can’t control any of it. But if I relinquish control and stop resisting, I might discover something better than I could have even imagined.
I might just figure out how to be a woman in Gods eyes; if not in my own.
Let me step back. I’m doing a new bible study with a group of women from the community. The study is Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman’s Soul by John and Stasi Eldredge. We’re only a week in, so if you would still like to join up you are welcome to do so.
I already got kicked in the gut by this study though, and it’s only the first week. It made me confront some issues I’m not sure I was prepared to confront. Some things I'm ashamed to admit.
One of the questions asked was when you last felt alive as a woman. All I could think was “I’m not sure I even know what that means, but I’ll bet I feel it when I have a baby.”
And there it is. In black and white. Right now, I have my womanhood dependent upon my ability to birth a child.
Can we just step back for a second and acknowledge that those feelings are real? I’m not saying I should feel that way, or that anyone else in my shoes should feel that way, but – I don’t want to have to deny that I feel it either. There is a voice in my head that has already told me I am less of a woman because I can’t do this on my own; because I will never do this on my own. A voice that says that if I can’t do this at all, I might as well hand my membership card to the ladies club back in.
I'm not even sure where this ladies club is, but I'm pretty sure they are reviewing my application thoroughly lately; just waiting for a reason to revoke my privileges.
That voice in my head has especially been mocking me the last few days and telling me that no matter when Mr. Right comes along, I will not likely be able to give him a biological child. By the time he comes into my life, chances are my ovaries are going to be gone and quite possibly my uterus too. I never thought I cared so much about genes and blood, but when I think about that future husband who I won’t be able to produce a bio baby for; my heart hurts a little.
I know everyone is itching to type comments away right now telling me not to base my womanhood on my ability to produce and carry a child, but can we just be honest for a second and admit that most of us do? Sure, there are women who are childless by choice and I fully respect them and that choice. There are also women who go straight to adoption without even contemplating fertility treatments, and I also hold all kinds of admiration and respect for them. But for many of us, childbirth is the crux of womanhood; isn’t it?
My biggest fear going into both of my surgeries was waking up and being told I had needed a hysterectomy. The first words out of my mouth both times were "Am I empty?" And I cried when the answer was "no". Deep sobs. I was not prepared to lose those parts of myself, and it was only upon hearing "no" both times that I was able to acknowledge that fear of my loss of womanhood.
I’m not alone in this; am I?
When you think about this on a strictly biological level, one of the things that sets us apart from men is the fact that we can carry children. Recently I asked a group of women what their greatest achievement was and many of them had responses that fell along the lines of childbirth. It is very easy for a fertile woman to look at an infertile woman and say “you shouldn’t feel that way”, but I think if we are being 100% honest; it’s not an unnatural feeling.
I feel like less of a woman. I’m not going to pretend like that’s not true. Let’s forget about that little testosterone issue, or the fact that my hair is still coming out in clumps (seriously – I went to run my fingers through my hair today while I was talking to my boss and a giant chunk came out. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m dying.) When I remember that the only way I will ever achieve a pregnancy is through massive amounts of intervention, I get kind of sad.
And so this week I was focusing on what it means to be a true woman; to be alive as a woman. I was trying to figure out what it is that God wants from me as a woman specifically. Is it to persevere? To stand strong? To make lemonade out of life’s lemons?
To nurture?
I am a nurturer at heart, and it is possible that God’s plan for me as a woman goes so far beyond bearing a child. It is possible that he wants me to Nurture many children. It is possible that he has been preparing my heart for the disappointment of failure so that I can further open it up to adoption.
I’m terrified of that possibility and I will pray with everything in me that God grants me at least one pregnancy. But if I don’t get that, will I be able to move past it? Will I be able to embrace my womanhood despite my bareness?
I honestly don’t know. Is it OK to not know? To not know if I will still be able to feel like a woman if I can’t carry a child?
God has been working on patience in my heart lately. I think He knows that I want to know the plan, and He is trying to teach me that it isn’t mine to know. No matter what happens I believe that the plan God has for me is better than anything I can imagine. I believe He will get me through whatever comes next; whether that be the trials of single motherhood or the defeat of a failed cycle. I believe He has a plan for me, and I just need to stop trying to control every minor detail right now. I need to let it go and to let Him take the reins.
My first step is choosing a donor. I think I know who I’ve chosen. I want to give it a few days to really sink in, but I think I’ve stopped trying to overanalyze every minor detail of those men. I think I’ve realized that it doesn’t really matter who I choose because I will love that resulting baby no matter what. It dawned on me today that I was making this decision far more difficult than it had to be, and that by letting up on my need to control; the entire decision suddenly became simple.
I got an e-mail today from an old friend. She was telling me about something going on in her life, and I had to stop and re-read what she wrote because I could have written it myself. She wrote:
I know for me it’s all about the fear of the unknown… I guess that just amounts to lack of faith... I have to remember that in all things big and small God is in control and won’t fail me. That’s so hard for me to get sometimes because of my situation growing up. I have always had to depend on myself and I was always the caretaker in my home growing up...its hard as an adult to relinquish control...I guess it’s a work in progress. He's still working on me.
He’s still working on me too. And I think that is what God is trying to teach me with my life right now. That I can’t control it all. That it’s possible I can’t control any of it. But if I relinquish control and stop resisting, I might discover something better than I could have even imagined.
I might just figure out how to be a woman in Gods eyes; if not in my own.
April 26, 2010
My Life is Not a Rom Com
I hate to break it to you, but if you were looking for an ooey-gooey happy ending to go along with that jumbo bag of popcorn you bought; you might want to ask for a refund on your ticket. There is no romantic comedy here.
Unless it’s one of those romantic comedies where the heroine is this flustered bumbling mess whose overdramatic advances work only to repel men.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one like that though.
Maybe Ginnifer Goodwin’s character in He’s Just Not That Into You?
That’s right. I just compared myself to the needy chick in He’s Just Not That Into You.
Didn’t see that one coming, did you?
It’s possible I had a breakdown last night. It’s possible the waiting was killing me. It’s possible that I had myself convinced that I would hear from the ex last night. That there was no way he would just leave me hanging with no response. That he wasn’t that kind of guy. That at the very least he would let me know that he was still mulling everything over.
It’s possible I started crying at 9:30 pm when I still hadn’t heard from him.
Actually crying. Over a man. A man who I have promised myself on 100 occasions I wouldn’t cry over anymore.
And then I was mad. Mad at myself for letting this same situation continue to hurt me. Mad at him for continuing to pry his way into my life on the premise that he cares, but then pulling the same disappearing act over and over again when he can’t handle the heavy stuff.
Life is heavy sometimes. How does he not get that by now?
So then my armor went up and my multiple personalities kicked in; this was sheer defense mode here. I texted him that he should just forget about everything. That I shouldn’t have asked him. That I didn’t know what I was thinking. That I had chosen a donor and he was off the hook. Pressure was off.
When I didn’t hear back from him in 10 minutes, I started to feel guilty and question myself. What if he was just about to call me and tell me he wanted to do this?
So I called him.
And he didn’t answer.
The next logical move was to send him another one of my epic text messages.
I just wanted to say that I really am sorry. You’ve got a lot going on, and I shouldn’t have put all that on you. I just thought that maybe we could still have our happily ever after. That maybe we could be there for each other. It doesn’t even matter what I thought though. I’m sorry. But, next time you find yourself missing me and wanting to call or text to see how I am… please don’t. I don’t know if you have any idea how much harder you made this for me. I would love for us to at least be friends, but you can’t even tell me what you don’t want. Life is hard. I don’t want people in my life who make it harder. If you can’t tell me what you want from me, or at the very least what you don’t want, I really don’t want to hear from you again. It hurts too bad. I’m glad you’re coming home soon, and I hope you figure all your stuff out and that you and the kids have a great summer. I do care about you, and I hope everything works out for you. I’m sorry I went and complicated things with us enough to scare you away yet again.
Seriously? What is wrong with me? And is it officially OK to hate my iphone because it lets me get away with that kind of nonsense?
I heard on the radio this morning that the number one reason women pick fights is because they feel ignored. I can go ahead and take ownership of that one. You can tell me just about anything and I can deal with it pretty well, but if you ignore me? Well clearly I lose my mind. When I put myself out there like that and I get nothing back; it tears me apart.
I am usually pretty calm, cool, and collected. I typically have my emotions in check. I am the girl who is a rock star when it comes to protecting her heart.
So why (why God why?!?) do I become a dribbling mess when it comes to this man? Why do I set myself up like that again and again?
I blame romantic comedies. They have taught me that all you have to do is make yourself a little vulnerable and quirky to land your man. I have the quirky part down for sure, but clearly I go way overboard in attempting vulnerability.
I just… I got caught up in the idea of him swooping in and saving the day. I got blinded by this romantic notion of him coming in on his white horse, proclaiming his love for me, and us doing this all together. I let myself believe that we could be riding off into the sunset.
Instead, I’m pretty sure he may be joining the witness protection program.
I just don’t get it. Jennifer Lopez gets herself knocked up and then meets a gorgeous man who is totally on board with being her baby daddy after just a few weeks. Jennifer Aniston gets to have hottie best friend Jason Bateman switch her sperm sample all because he secretly loves her and can’t stand the idea of another man spawning her child.
I get to pine away after a guy who can’t even tell me that he doesn’t want me. Who can’t have a grown up conversation with me at all.
Who I am fairly sure has started to make a game out of how long it takes me to melt down and go all emotional train wreck crazy lady on him.
OK, not really. In fact, I’m pretty sure my emotional outbursts freak him out as much as they do me.
But still… Clearly I need new writers.
For my life.
So back to the drawing board ladies and gentleman. I am forcing myself to choose and buy a donor this week. I will keep my eye on the prize and my romantic aspirations to a minimum. I’m going to be like Kate Hudson in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days or Sandra Bullock in The Proposal. Yes, when it comes to love, I do want to be that cold right now. Those ladies knew what they wanted (until men came in and ruined everything); I am going to be just like them. I am going to be strong and determined to get what I want (MY baby); romantic liaisons will be the last thing on my mind.
Or maybe I could just be like Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates.
I wouldn't hate a little short term memory loss right now.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kk8eJh4i8Lo&feature=fvst
Unless it’s one of those romantic comedies where the heroine is this flustered bumbling mess whose overdramatic advances work only to repel men.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one like that though.
Maybe Ginnifer Goodwin’s character in He’s Just Not That Into You?
That’s right. I just compared myself to the needy chick in He’s Just Not That Into You.
Didn’t see that one coming, did you?
It’s possible I had a breakdown last night. It’s possible the waiting was killing me. It’s possible that I had myself convinced that I would hear from the ex last night. That there was no way he would just leave me hanging with no response. That he wasn’t that kind of guy. That at the very least he would let me know that he was still mulling everything over.
It’s possible I started crying at 9:30 pm when I still hadn’t heard from him.
Actually crying. Over a man. A man who I have promised myself on 100 occasions I wouldn’t cry over anymore.
And then I was mad. Mad at myself for letting this same situation continue to hurt me. Mad at him for continuing to pry his way into my life on the premise that he cares, but then pulling the same disappearing act over and over again when he can’t handle the heavy stuff.
Life is heavy sometimes. How does he not get that by now?
So then my armor went up and my multiple personalities kicked in; this was sheer defense mode here. I texted him that he should just forget about everything. That I shouldn’t have asked him. That I didn’t know what I was thinking. That I had chosen a donor and he was off the hook. Pressure was off.
When I didn’t hear back from him in 10 minutes, I started to feel guilty and question myself. What if he was just about to call me and tell me he wanted to do this?
So I called him.
And he didn’t answer.
The next logical move was to send him another one of my epic text messages.
I just wanted to say that I really am sorry. You’ve got a lot going on, and I shouldn’t have put all that on you. I just thought that maybe we could still have our happily ever after. That maybe we could be there for each other. It doesn’t even matter what I thought though. I’m sorry. But, next time you find yourself missing me and wanting to call or text to see how I am… please don’t. I don’t know if you have any idea how much harder you made this for me. I would love for us to at least be friends, but you can’t even tell me what you don’t want. Life is hard. I don’t want people in my life who make it harder. If you can’t tell me what you want from me, or at the very least what you don’t want, I really don’t want to hear from you again. It hurts too bad. I’m glad you’re coming home soon, and I hope you figure all your stuff out and that you and the kids have a great summer. I do care about you, and I hope everything works out for you. I’m sorry I went and complicated things with us enough to scare you away yet again.
Seriously? What is wrong with me? And is it officially OK to hate my iphone because it lets me get away with that kind of nonsense?
I heard on the radio this morning that the number one reason women pick fights is because they feel ignored. I can go ahead and take ownership of that one. You can tell me just about anything and I can deal with it pretty well, but if you ignore me? Well clearly I lose my mind. When I put myself out there like that and I get nothing back; it tears me apart.
I am usually pretty calm, cool, and collected. I typically have my emotions in check. I am the girl who is a rock star when it comes to protecting her heart.
So why (why God why?!?) do I become a dribbling mess when it comes to this man? Why do I set myself up like that again and again?
I blame romantic comedies. They have taught me that all you have to do is make yourself a little vulnerable and quirky to land your man. I have the quirky part down for sure, but clearly I go way overboard in attempting vulnerability.
I just… I got caught up in the idea of him swooping in and saving the day. I got blinded by this romantic notion of him coming in on his white horse, proclaiming his love for me, and us doing this all together. I let myself believe that we could be riding off into the sunset.
Instead, I’m pretty sure he may be joining the witness protection program.
I just don’t get it. Jennifer Lopez gets herself knocked up and then meets a gorgeous man who is totally on board with being her baby daddy after just a few weeks. Jennifer Aniston gets to have hottie best friend Jason Bateman switch her sperm sample all because he secretly loves her and can’t stand the idea of another man spawning her child.
I get to pine away after a guy who can’t even tell me that he doesn’t want me. Who can’t have a grown up conversation with me at all.
Who I am fairly sure has started to make a game out of how long it takes me to melt down and go all emotional train wreck crazy lady on him.
OK, not really. In fact, I’m pretty sure my emotional outbursts freak him out as much as they do me.
But still… Clearly I need new writers.
For my life.
So back to the drawing board ladies and gentleman. I am forcing myself to choose and buy a donor this week. I will keep my eye on the prize and my romantic aspirations to a minimum. I’m going to be like Kate Hudson in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days or Sandra Bullock in The Proposal. Yes, when it comes to love, I do want to be that cold right now. Those ladies knew what they wanted (until men came in and ruined everything); I am going to be just like them. I am going to be strong and determined to get what I want (MY baby); romantic liaisons will be the last thing on my mind.
Or maybe I could just be like Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates.
I wouldn't hate a little short term memory loss right now.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kk8eJh4i8Lo&feature=fvst
April 25, 2010
What do you want?
Sex is a funny thing. It seems like people either know exactly what they want (and can tell you without thinking twice), or they have absolutely no clue.
I’m talking about the sex of a baby here people. Get your minds out of the gutter!
I’ve talked to women who want all of one, or one of each. One first, and the other to follow. An order in which the sexes should come already laid out in their minds.
Most of those close to me have already decided what I’m having. They call that not even yet created baby a “he” or “she” without hesitation; as though this information is already a given.
I have a friend who was explaining centrifuging to me recently, and letting me know that I could actually pre-pick the sex of my baby.
All I would have to do is know what I want.
And I don’t. I don’t have any clue. I couldn’t care less what I get, I just want a baby.
I could never go the route of centrifuging, because I could never choose. Beyond that though, I want as many embryos to come out of this cycle as possible. I want to know there are some little back up plans frozen away and waiting for me to either give it another go after a failed attempt, or give this child a sibling. I would never want to do anything that could limit those possibilities, but the idea is enticing.
If I had any inkling which way I would go!
(completely random side note: I was honored to be asked this week to do a guest post for a friend in honor of National Infertility Awareness Week. If you want to check it out, you can do so here.)
My entire life I always really thought I wanted boys. I just love little boys. I love their attitudes and their random bouts of affection. I love their rough and tumble nature and their sense of humor. I love how little boys love their mommies. I have always been a guys-girl myself, and I’ve always said I wanted a house full of boys.
Recently though, I’ve been thinking that I could be a really great mom to a little girl. I’ve never been a girly-girl, but for some reason the idea of little pigtails and dresses gets me kind of giddy to think about. I can picture in my head the talks about boys and the advice I could give from my own trials and tribulations as a pre-teen and beyond. I am passionate about working with teenage girls anyway, and I do very well with that angsty set. I think I could be a good mom to a girl whose hormones are so out of control she doesn’t know which way is up.
I think I could do it right.
With boys there is that whole circumcision dilemma, and I don’t even know where I would begin when it came to issues of a sexual nature. With girls though, there would be a greater sense of responsibility to protect them I think; this unexplainable drive to keep them safe from all the harm that threatens little girls in this world.
I simply can’t decide. I just want a baby, and I would be ecstatic no matter what I got. I could see the pros and cons to both, and I would never be able to choose.
Maybe I want them both.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.
I’m talking about the sex of a baby here people. Get your minds out of the gutter!
I’ve talked to women who want all of one, or one of each. One first, and the other to follow. An order in which the sexes should come already laid out in their minds.
Most of those close to me have already decided what I’m having. They call that not even yet created baby a “he” or “she” without hesitation; as though this information is already a given.
I have a friend who was explaining centrifuging to me recently, and letting me know that I could actually pre-pick the sex of my baby.
All I would have to do is know what I want.
And I don’t. I don’t have any clue. I couldn’t care less what I get, I just want a baby.
I could never go the route of centrifuging, because I could never choose. Beyond that though, I want as many embryos to come out of this cycle as possible. I want to know there are some little back up plans frozen away and waiting for me to either give it another go after a failed attempt, or give this child a sibling. I would never want to do anything that could limit those possibilities, but the idea is enticing.
If I had any inkling which way I would go!
(completely random side note: I was honored to be asked this week to do a guest post for a friend in honor of National Infertility Awareness Week. If you want to check it out, you can do so here.)
My entire life I always really thought I wanted boys. I just love little boys. I love their attitudes and their random bouts of affection. I love their rough and tumble nature and their sense of humor. I love how little boys love their mommies. I have always been a guys-girl myself, and I’ve always said I wanted a house full of boys.
Recently though, I’ve been thinking that I could be a really great mom to a little girl. I’ve never been a girly-girl, but for some reason the idea of little pigtails and dresses gets me kind of giddy to think about. I can picture in my head the talks about boys and the advice I could give from my own trials and tribulations as a pre-teen and beyond. I am passionate about working with teenage girls anyway, and I do very well with that angsty set. I think I could be a good mom to a girl whose hormones are so out of control she doesn’t know which way is up.
I think I could do it right.
With boys there is that whole circumcision dilemma, and I don’t even know where I would begin when it came to issues of a sexual nature. With girls though, there would be a greater sense of responsibility to protect them I think; this unexplainable drive to keep them safe from all the harm that threatens little girls in this world.
I simply can’t decide. I just want a baby, and I would be ecstatic no matter what I got. I could see the pros and cons to both, and I would never be able to choose.
Maybe I want them both.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.
April 24, 2010
What If...
I was never meant to do this alone.
Next week is National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW), and in honor of that I am participating in Project IF. The initial stage of that project involved writing out your number one “What If” in regards to your battle with infertility. If you’re interested in seeing the list of “What If’s”, you can do so over at Stirrup Queens.
The second stage of Project IF involves expanding upon your "What If" in a blog post. I was honestly hesitant to write about my "What If". I was afraid it would be misinterpreted as my not being sure about my decision to go this alone. I was afraid people who have already questioned my plan would use this post as proof to themselves that I am not ready to be a mother. Most of the support I have gotten here in this space has been overwhelming and warm, but I do get the occasional person questioning what I’m doing. I didn’t want to feed those people even more fuel. I didn’t want to give them something to point at and say “See! I told you this was a bad idea!” I started to select one of the “What If’s” straight from the list to write about instead, simply because I felt like that was safer.
I realized though that I have never been anything but open about my feelings in this process. I don’t want to hide my true thoughts and fears solely because I don’t want to receive the backlash of people who don’t even know me. The people in my life who know and love me all support me 100% in this decision. They all stand by me, and most of them had their minds made up about what I should do when faced with this choice long before I did. They all know I am meant to be a mother, and that if that needs to happen now in order for it to happen at all - then it needs to happen now; man or no man. They all know this is right for me, and I will take comfort in that always.
My “What If” fits into the category of “How infertility impacted your “plans”/current choices/future decisions”.
My “What If” is:
“What if I was never meant to do this alone?”
That “What If” is so all encompassing to me. It goes far beyond the choices I am making right now. It starts years ago; even more than a decade ago. It starts with a girl who was so afraid of being hurt or let down, that she pushed every single person who ever cared about her away. It starts with a girl who decided the idea of marriage terrified her from a young age, and who instead chose to be as free and independent as possible. A girl who avoided real relationships at all costs.
I’ve often wondered if I hadn’t been that girl, would I be facing this alone now? Or would I have someone who loves and supports me by my side? Someone holding me when I cry and squeezing my hand through every scary appointment.
Was I meant to do this alone? Or was there another plan in the works for me that I threw away because I was too afraid of what allowing myself to love someone (and allowing them to love me back) could mean.
When this all started, the ex and I were actually together. It was my first real relationship; the first time I had allowed myself to give in to the idea of what "happily ever after" could mean. I bounced back and forth often between relishing in what it meant to have someone, and questioning every minor detail of that pairing. I think from some of the things I have written, it is easy to get an impression of him as being immature or cold. The thing you need to understand though, is that he was anything but that when we were together. He was open about his feelings for me, and considerate of my moods. He adored me, and everyone around us knew it. But I wasn’t good at being adored. I wasn’t good at being loved at all.
After multiple appointments complaining that something was wrong, I was finally able to get a doctor to really do a work up for me. Days after that appointment, I got a phone call saying that some of my results pointed to cancer and they needed me to come in for further testing.
I was very calm. Calculated even. I sent the ex a text message saying we needed to talk. When he called, I told him we were through. I gave him no explanation other than the fact that we weren’t going to work. I then drove to his house (while I knew he was at work) and left a few items I had for him sitting on his kitchen table. And we were done.
I had no point of reference for how else to behave. I had no idea what was really wrong with me, but I reasoned that whatever it was it wasn’t something he should be a part of. Everything hard in my entire life I had gotten through on my own. I had no idea how to rely on him or trust in him to carry me through. All I knew was how to do this alone.
And that’s what I did. I spent months trying to get to the bottom of what was wrong with me, and even after cancer was discounted – we still knew something was very wrong.
And I wasn’t able to own up to my need for him until it was all crumbling around me. By then, it may have been too late for him to really forgive me. By then, he had spent months thinking I didn't care; that I had never cared.
What if he was the person who was supposed to get me through this, and I threw him away?
What if God had never intended for me to embark upon this journey alone (and He put the ex in my life before my problems began so that he could be that support I would need), but it’s what I chose because I was too afraid of relying on another human being?
What if I robbed my child of the father they were supposed to have, because I was determined to be independent?
What if my child is now stuck with a sperm donor as a father, rather than a man who I have seen be an incredible father to the two children he already has?
What if I was never meant to do this alone?
I am strong. I am independent. I persevere.
I am capable of making this journey work on my own. I will be just fine if doing this alone is what has to happen.
But what if it’s not how it was meant to be? What if I have no one but myself to blame for why I am on this path alone? What if my stubbornness and independence has earned me this road to travel by myself?
And that is my “What If”. There are many others which weigh on my heart when I allow myself to think of them. “What if I can never conceive”, "What if choices I made in my past led to my condition now", “What if I will always feel like less of a woman because my body couldn't do this the natural way”, “What if I do get pregnant, only to suffer a miscarriage”, “What if this is the worst financial decision I have ever made and I simply can’t ever get back on track”. Those “What If’s” are capable of keeping me awake at night if I allow them to. They hurt me to contemplate, and I don’t know how I will face any of them if I should have to.
But my “What If”; the “What If” that wonders if I was never meant to do this alone? That is the “What If” that I feel the most responsibility for. The one that I think I hold the most blame in. The one that nags at me when I start to feel sorry for myself because I don’t have one of those supportive husbands that many women in my position can at least claim. The one that tells me that I don't get to be sad, because I deserve my solitude.
I do believe everything happens for a reason though. I believe God has a plan for me no matter what. I believe there is a purpose even behind the last year of battling with endometriosis. I believe the expedited time frame in all of this due to the aggression of my disease holds a happy ending in and of itself.
What if I do this alone and it turns out just fine?
What if the man I am meant to be with simply hasn’t appeared yet, but he will be an incredible father and husband when the time comes?
What if I am being driven to have a child now, because the child who comes into my life in this moment is going to grow to be someone incredible?
What if I went through all of this not only so I could love and appreciate my child more, but so that I could love and appreciate the man I am meant to be with more?
What if these are all lessons learned; lessons that will lead to a happier and more fulfilling life for me and my family?
And what if the man I love now does come around. What if, after everything is said and done, we are better and stronger because of all of this? What if we get a happily ever after that most people can’t even comprehend, because we had to fight for it?
What if this will all be worth it in the end?
For more information on infertility, check out Resolves website, and for more information on National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW), go here.
Next week is National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW), and in honor of that I am participating in Project IF. The initial stage of that project involved writing out your number one “What If” in regards to your battle with infertility. If you’re interested in seeing the list of “What If’s”, you can do so over at Stirrup Queens.
The second stage of Project IF involves expanding upon your "What If" in a blog post. I was honestly hesitant to write about my "What If". I was afraid it would be misinterpreted as my not being sure about my decision to go this alone. I was afraid people who have already questioned my plan would use this post as proof to themselves that I am not ready to be a mother. Most of the support I have gotten here in this space has been overwhelming and warm, but I do get the occasional person questioning what I’m doing. I didn’t want to feed those people even more fuel. I didn’t want to give them something to point at and say “See! I told you this was a bad idea!” I started to select one of the “What If’s” straight from the list to write about instead, simply because I felt like that was safer.
I realized though that I have never been anything but open about my feelings in this process. I don’t want to hide my true thoughts and fears solely because I don’t want to receive the backlash of people who don’t even know me. The people in my life who know and love me all support me 100% in this decision. They all stand by me, and most of them had their minds made up about what I should do when faced with this choice long before I did. They all know I am meant to be a mother, and that if that needs to happen now in order for it to happen at all - then it needs to happen now; man or no man. They all know this is right for me, and I will take comfort in that always.
My “What If” fits into the category of “How infertility impacted your “plans”/current choices/future decisions”.
My “What If” is:
“What if I was never meant to do this alone?”
That “What If” is so all encompassing to me. It goes far beyond the choices I am making right now. It starts years ago; even more than a decade ago. It starts with a girl who was so afraid of being hurt or let down, that she pushed every single person who ever cared about her away. It starts with a girl who decided the idea of marriage terrified her from a young age, and who instead chose to be as free and independent as possible. A girl who avoided real relationships at all costs.
I’ve often wondered if I hadn’t been that girl, would I be facing this alone now? Or would I have someone who loves and supports me by my side? Someone holding me when I cry and squeezing my hand through every scary appointment.
Was I meant to do this alone? Or was there another plan in the works for me that I threw away because I was too afraid of what allowing myself to love someone (and allowing them to love me back) could mean.
When this all started, the ex and I were actually together. It was my first real relationship; the first time I had allowed myself to give in to the idea of what "happily ever after" could mean. I bounced back and forth often between relishing in what it meant to have someone, and questioning every minor detail of that pairing. I think from some of the things I have written, it is easy to get an impression of him as being immature or cold. The thing you need to understand though, is that he was anything but that when we were together. He was open about his feelings for me, and considerate of my moods. He adored me, and everyone around us knew it. But I wasn’t good at being adored. I wasn’t good at being loved at all.
After multiple appointments complaining that something was wrong, I was finally able to get a doctor to really do a work up for me. Days after that appointment, I got a phone call saying that some of my results pointed to cancer and they needed me to come in for further testing.
I was very calm. Calculated even. I sent the ex a text message saying we needed to talk. When he called, I told him we were through. I gave him no explanation other than the fact that we weren’t going to work. I then drove to his house (while I knew he was at work) and left a few items I had for him sitting on his kitchen table. And we were done.
I had no point of reference for how else to behave. I had no idea what was really wrong with me, but I reasoned that whatever it was it wasn’t something he should be a part of. Everything hard in my entire life I had gotten through on my own. I had no idea how to rely on him or trust in him to carry me through. All I knew was how to do this alone.
And that’s what I did. I spent months trying to get to the bottom of what was wrong with me, and even after cancer was discounted – we still knew something was very wrong.
And I wasn’t able to own up to my need for him until it was all crumbling around me. By then, it may have been too late for him to really forgive me. By then, he had spent months thinking I didn't care; that I had never cared.
What if he was the person who was supposed to get me through this, and I threw him away?
What if God had never intended for me to embark upon this journey alone (and He put the ex in my life before my problems began so that he could be that support I would need), but it’s what I chose because I was too afraid of relying on another human being?
What if I robbed my child of the father they were supposed to have, because I was determined to be independent?
What if my child is now stuck with a sperm donor as a father, rather than a man who I have seen be an incredible father to the two children he already has?
What if I was never meant to do this alone?
I am strong. I am independent. I persevere.
I am capable of making this journey work on my own. I will be just fine if doing this alone is what has to happen.
But what if it’s not how it was meant to be? What if I have no one but myself to blame for why I am on this path alone? What if my stubbornness and independence has earned me this road to travel by myself?
And that is my “What If”. There are many others which weigh on my heart when I allow myself to think of them. “What if I can never conceive”, "What if choices I made in my past led to my condition now", “What if I will always feel like less of a woman because my body couldn't do this the natural way”, “What if I do get pregnant, only to suffer a miscarriage”, “What if this is the worst financial decision I have ever made and I simply can’t ever get back on track”. Those “What If’s” are capable of keeping me awake at night if I allow them to. They hurt me to contemplate, and I don’t know how I will face any of them if I should have to.
But my “What If”; the “What If” that wonders if I was never meant to do this alone? That is the “What If” that I feel the most responsibility for. The one that I think I hold the most blame in. The one that nags at me when I start to feel sorry for myself because I don’t have one of those supportive husbands that many women in my position can at least claim. The one that tells me that I don't get to be sad, because I deserve my solitude.
I do believe everything happens for a reason though. I believe God has a plan for me no matter what. I believe there is a purpose even behind the last year of battling with endometriosis. I believe the expedited time frame in all of this due to the aggression of my disease holds a happy ending in and of itself.
What if I do this alone and it turns out just fine?
What if the man I am meant to be with simply hasn’t appeared yet, but he will be an incredible father and husband when the time comes?
What if I am being driven to have a child now, because the child who comes into my life in this moment is going to grow to be someone incredible?
What if I went through all of this not only so I could love and appreciate my child more, but so that I could love and appreciate the man I am meant to be with more?
What if these are all lessons learned; lessons that will lead to a happier and more fulfilling life for me and my family?
And what if the man I love now does come around. What if, after everything is said and done, we are better and stronger because of all of this? What if we get a happily ever after that most people can’t even comprehend, because we had to fight for it?
What if this will all be worth it in the end?
For more information on infertility, check out Resolves website, and for more information on National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW), go here.
April 23, 2010
He Could Have Been a Contender
I have something to confess.
I was secretly hoping there was going to be a 4th entrant in our sperm donor contest.
I was counting on the ex to make a last minute entry.
Or maybe not counting on him, but wishing… and hoping… and praying.
When we spoke on my birthday, it was one of many heavy things we discussed. Actually, I kind of just threw it out there. I did it very poorly. I made a joke about how much this was going to cost me and told him he could save me a few hundred dollars if he just took one for the team. He threw me for a loop though. I had posed the topic as if he would be a donor – no strings attached. He instead queried “and then what happens if I have feelings?”
Have I ever told you all that I am socially awkward? When I am uncomfortable or caught off guard, I say all the wrong things. I have been known to blurt out entirely inappropriate statements in uncomfortable situations, just leaving everyone that much more uncomfortable.
So my response to his question? I said (without thinking) “We would have a legal agreement to protect against that.”
(slaps self in forehead)
Why couldn’t I just tell him what I wanted? Because I was scared. Because I could feel him feeling me out, and I wanted him to say what he wanted first. I didn’t want to show any of my cards this time.
And that was stupid.
I spent days pondering that conversation and trying to figure out the pros and cons of saying what I wanted versus keeping my mouth shut. I realized that if all I had to lose was a little bit of pride by being open about what I wanted one last time, then that was a small price to pay if it could all work out in the end.
Monday I sent him a text that said “I’ve got my sperm donor choices narrowed down to three guys – if you want to be in the running, you should let me know now”.
His response was “Call me later dork.”
And I got a tiny twinge of hope. He hadn’t said “no”. That had to mean something, right?
When I called that night, we actually had a serious conversation where I laid it all on the line. The man has a lot going on right now. A lot of big things that I can’t disclose simply because it’s not my story to tell. Needless to say though, he is under a decent amount of stress – a decent amount of stress even without me saying “Do you want to have a baby with me? You have to decide now or never!”
I had promised myself that I wasn’t going to put any pressure on us. That I was going to keep moving forward as planned and let things work out with us as naturally as possible. I had promised myself I would keep my wants under wraps this time around.
Except that I couldn’t. He just kept saying that he didn’t know what he wanted. That he was so thrown by life right now and while he couldn’t tell me this wasn’t what he wanted, he was also really unsure of what going down this path would mean. He just couldn’t tell me what he wanted.
And so I told him.
I told him that I wanted him to be the father of this child. That I wanted to be with him, and to be a permanent fixture in his children’s lives. I told him that I wanted us to lean on each other – to support each other in this next stage of life that is sure to be a bit rocky for both of us.
I told him that despite everything we had been through, he was still the person I wanted to be with.
And then I told him that he knew what I wanted, and that the ball was now in his court. I explained that I would be fine if he never came around. That I would have this baby and one day I would meet a man who would love us both. I told him I would be fine no matter what, but that what I really wanted was for him to be a part of this.
And then I waited all week for him to call me and tell me he wanted the same things.
Except he didn’t.
I was looking at the donors today and struggling. Staring at the profiles and trying to figure out why this is so hard for me.
The truth is, this isn’t the way I would choose for it to be. There is a man in my life who I love – a man who I believe loves me back. Of course I would choose for him to be my side through this. I have wanted him by my side since the beginning. I am strong, and I will be just fine if I go this alone (and really and truly – I believe this is the path I am meant to take, regardless of whether or not he is by my side), but it wouldn’t be my first choice. In my perfect world, I would have a baby daddy right now - not just a sperm donor.
If I had a choice, I would choose him.
I realized today that I needed him to tell me “no”. I needed him to tell me that he couldn’t do this with me so that I could let go of that dream. I don’t even think it would be the end of any possibility of us (because I do still think we could figure things out somewhere down the road and that he could step into that father role regardless of whether or not he was the bio dad), but I needed to let go of the possibility of having his child. I sent this ridiculously long text:
I know I said I would leave the ball in your court, but I’m having the hardest time choosing a donor and I think it’s because I’m secretly hoping you will come around. I think I need you to tell me you don’t want any part of it. I won’t be mad, and we will still be fine, I just need you to tell me what you want (or I guess don’t want) just this once. If you really want me to use a donor, I just need to know so I can make that choice and move forward. I’ve been holding out hope for some insane reason and I just really need to know from you that you want no part of this so I can focus on reality. This is just harder than I expected it to be. I just… I need to know where you stand because there is this stupid part of me that keeps hoping you want the same things I do, and I need that girl to stop hoping.
That was over two hours ago, and still no response. I don’t know if I really want to know, or if I like holding on to this hope. I do know that I need to know though. That I need to let that fantasy die if it isn’t going to happen.
I know this is hard for him. I know in a perfect world we would have time to figure everything out. I get how much pressure the time frame is; I get it, because I had to face that same time frame myself when I first made this decision. I have come to a point of being excited and ready for this, but it took me months. Months of arguing and battling back and forth in my head about what the right move was here. Months to work through it and realize what I really wanted. Months. And I’m wanting him to be able to do it in a week.
In my heart of hearts I believe this man and I could have a wonderful life together if we could both just get over our pasts. I know that is easier said than done though.
What kills me is that there are two people in this world who do love each other and just can’t seem to make it work.
What kills me is that I’m part of that pairing, and I can’t seem to fix it.
What kills me is that I can’t seem to let go of the hope.
I don’t feel like I’m asking for a lot.
I just want it all.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04JylELryEs
I was secretly hoping there was going to be a 4th entrant in our sperm donor contest.
I was counting on the ex to make a last minute entry.
Or maybe not counting on him, but wishing… and hoping… and praying.
When we spoke on my birthday, it was one of many heavy things we discussed. Actually, I kind of just threw it out there. I did it very poorly. I made a joke about how much this was going to cost me and told him he could save me a few hundred dollars if he just took one for the team. He threw me for a loop though. I had posed the topic as if he would be a donor – no strings attached. He instead queried “and then what happens if I have feelings?”
Have I ever told you all that I am socially awkward? When I am uncomfortable or caught off guard, I say all the wrong things. I have been known to blurt out entirely inappropriate statements in uncomfortable situations, just leaving everyone that much more uncomfortable.
So my response to his question? I said (without thinking) “We would have a legal agreement to protect against that.”
(slaps self in forehead)
Why couldn’t I just tell him what I wanted? Because I was scared. Because I could feel him feeling me out, and I wanted him to say what he wanted first. I didn’t want to show any of my cards this time.
And that was stupid.
I spent days pondering that conversation and trying to figure out the pros and cons of saying what I wanted versus keeping my mouth shut. I realized that if all I had to lose was a little bit of pride by being open about what I wanted one last time, then that was a small price to pay if it could all work out in the end.
Monday I sent him a text that said “I’ve got my sperm donor choices narrowed down to three guys – if you want to be in the running, you should let me know now”.
His response was “Call me later dork.”
And I got a tiny twinge of hope. He hadn’t said “no”. That had to mean something, right?
When I called that night, we actually had a serious conversation where I laid it all on the line. The man has a lot going on right now. A lot of big things that I can’t disclose simply because it’s not my story to tell. Needless to say though, he is under a decent amount of stress – a decent amount of stress even without me saying “Do you want to have a baby with me? You have to decide now or never!”
I had promised myself that I wasn’t going to put any pressure on us. That I was going to keep moving forward as planned and let things work out with us as naturally as possible. I had promised myself I would keep my wants under wraps this time around.
Except that I couldn’t. He just kept saying that he didn’t know what he wanted. That he was so thrown by life right now and while he couldn’t tell me this wasn’t what he wanted, he was also really unsure of what going down this path would mean. He just couldn’t tell me what he wanted.
And so I told him.
I told him that I wanted him to be the father of this child. That I wanted to be with him, and to be a permanent fixture in his children’s lives. I told him that I wanted us to lean on each other – to support each other in this next stage of life that is sure to be a bit rocky for both of us.
I told him that despite everything we had been through, he was still the person I wanted to be with.
And then I told him that he knew what I wanted, and that the ball was now in his court. I explained that I would be fine if he never came around. That I would have this baby and one day I would meet a man who would love us both. I told him I would be fine no matter what, but that what I really wanted was for him to be a part of this.
And then I waited all week for him to call me and tell me he wanted the same things.
Except he didn’t.
I was looking at the donors today and struggling. Staring at the profiles and trying to figure out why this is so hard for me.
The truth is, this isn’t the way I would choose for it to be. There is a man in my life who I love – a man who I believe loves me back. Of course I would choose for him to be my side through this. I have wanted him by my side since the beginning. I am strong, and I will be just fine if I go this alone (and really and truly – I believe this is the path I am meant to take, regardless of whether or not he is by my side), but it wouldn’t be my first choice. In my perfect world, I would have a baby daddy right now - not just a sperm donor.
If I had a choice, I would choose him.
I realized today that I needed him to tell me “no”. I needed him to tell me that he couldn’t do this with me so that I could let go of that dream. I don’t even think it would be the end of any possibility of us (because I do still think we could figure things out somewhere down the road and that he could step into that father role regardless of whether or not he was the bio dad), but I needed to let go of the possibility of having his child. I sent this ridiculously long text:
I know I said I would leave the ball in your court, but I’m having the hardest time choosing a donor and I think it’s because I’m secretly hoping you will come around. I think I need you to tell me you don’t want any part of it. I won’t be mad, and we will still be fine, I just need you to tell me what you want (or I guess don’t want) just this once. If you really want me to use a donor, I just need to know so I can make that choice and move forward. I’ve been holding out hope for some insane reason and I just really need to know from you that you want no part of this so I can focus on reality. This is just harder than I expected it to be. I just… I need to know where you stand because there is this stupid part of me that keeps hoping you want the same things I do, and I need that girl to stop hoping.
That was over two hours ago, and still no response. I don’t know if I really want to know, or if I like holding on to this hope. I do know that I need to know though. That I need to let that fantasy die if it isn’t going to happen.
I know this is hard for him. I know in a perfect world we would have time to figure everything out. I get how much pressure the time frame is; I get it, because I had to face that same time frame myself when I first made this decision. I have come to a point of being excited and ready for this, but it took me months. Months of arguing and battling back and forth in my head about what the right move was here. Months to work through it and realize what I really wanted. Months. And I’m wanting him to be able to do it in a week.
In my heart of hearts I believe this man and I could have a wonderful life together if we could both just get over our pasts. I know that is easier said than done though.
What kills me is that there are two people in this world who do love each other and just can’t seem to make it work.
What kills me is that I’m part of that pairing, and I can’t seem to fix it.
What kills me is that I can’t seem to let go of the hope.
I don’t feel like I’m asking for a lot.
I just want it all.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04JylELryEs
April 22, 2010
And So It Begins
I had my first round of labs ordered by Seattle Reproductive Medicine today. I was oddly gleeful. It felt like something real in this process; like a notable step towards baby making in July. I couldn’t wait to get to my doctor for the blood draws.
And then I got a phone call that changed my perspective a bit.
My doctor’s office was calling just to make sure that I knew that today’s visit wouldn’t be covered by insurance.
Well, no. I hadn’t thought of that. I mean, of course I knew it once they said it (my insurance doesn’t cover anything related to infertility treatments), but I just hadn’t really put two and two together. I thanked them for reminding me and asked how much I should expect to pay.
“A little over $700” the woman at the other end of the line said hesitantly.
Is it totally pathetic if I admit that the wind was knocked out of me and I was unable to respond at all for a few seconds?
“OK.” I winced “I’ll move some things around and will have it for you.”
I hung up the phone a little deflated.
I think people see me discussing this journey so nonchalantly, and they assume that money is not a factor for me. That is simply not true. Money is a factor. It is perhaps one of the scariest factors of this entire process if we are being completely honest.
Money is a factor.
It’s just that I am not about to allow money to be the factor that keeps me from having a child. I refuse to do that. I have a good job and I make a decent salary. I live a sufficiently middle class lifestyle. I have always been able to provide myself with some luxuries, and those luxuries have simply needed to disappear as of late. There has always been food on my plate and a roof over my head and I am confident in my ability to continue providing that. I have faith that all the rest will fall into place when the need arises.
I am not rich though, and money is a factor.
I made the decision a few months back that I would finance the larger chunk of this process. Seattle Reproductive Medicine has a financing plan available with good rates that I couldn’t pass up. I simply don’t have that kind of money lying around. Let’s not forget that I bought my condo last year too. My rainy day income is more or less depleted. Some people have scoffed at my plan to finance my IVF, but my point to them is that I financed every cent of the price on my car 2 years ago, and no one even batted an eye. That car cost $10,000 more than my IVF is going to cost, and I will maybe have it 5-6 years. Why is it completely acceptable to finance a car, but not make that same investment in your family?
So yes, I will be financing my IVF, and I am not ashamed to admit it. The problem is that in financing, I have come to think of all of these costs as being under one umbrella. I keep thinking of the main number I was quoted, and forgetting about all the “little” costs along the way. I will have at least two more appointments like today’s, with big tabs of their own. My sperm sample will cost a few hundred dollars, and the hormones I will need to buy can run up to $2000.
Money is a factor.
And I get scared. When I think about numbers like that (and the big ticket number at the end) of course I get scared. I worry about whether I will be able to afford this; about how far in debt I will have to go.
When really, the cost of IVF is only a drop in the bucket when it comes to the actual cost of raising a child.
I called my dad today on the way to my appointment, needing reassurance that I could handle this all; needing to hear that I am still making the right decisions no matter how scary some days may be. When I left my appointment I texted him the final amount ($769), along with the fact that I felt like I was going to vomit (a combination of 6 vials of blood being drawn and a late onset panic over the money). He replied:
Keep your eye on the prize! Baby = Priceless!
I kind of love my dad. I told him he was a failure as a father today (both because of yesterdays waste of a trip to the ER and because he flat out refuses to tell me which sperm donor he prefers), but I don’t know what I would do without him.
And I do have to admit that something pretty incredible happened at the doctor’s office today.
I smiled.
This last year, going to the OBGYN has been hard for me. I am not one of those infertile women who will begrudge other women their babies or pregnancies (although, the no vagina pregnancy did leave me just the slightest bit bitter.) I do not believe that someone else being pregnant makes me any less so. But, going to the OBGYN and being surrounded by baby bumps and crying newborns has felt like torture this last year. It has seemed abnormally cruel, and I have often found myself fighting back tears and wondering why they don’t have a separate entrance for infertile's like me.
Today though, I sat in the lobby and I smiled. I swooned over the newborn in his grandfathers arms across from me. I chatted up the woman sitting next to me who was about to pop.
I smiled.
Suddenly I felt like that could be me soon. I didn’t feel discouraged or left out of the club; instead I felt like screaming “Me too! Me too! I’m going to be a mommy too!”
And if nothing else, that simple change in attitude made it pretty clear to me that I am making no mistakes here.
No amount of money is going to keep me out of that mommy club.
And then I got a phone call that changed my perspective a bit.
My doctor’s office was calling just to make sure that I knew that today’s visit wouldn’t be covered by insurance.
Well, no. I hadn’t thought of that. I mean, of course I knew it once they said it (my insurance doesn’t cover anything related to infertility treatments), but I just hadn’t really put two and two together. I thanked them for reminding me and asked how much I should expect to pay.
“A little over $700” the woman at the other end of the line said hesitantly.
Is it totally pathetic if I admit that the wind was knocked out of me and I was unable to respond at all for a few seconds?
“OK.” I winced “I’ll move some things around and will have it for you.”
I hung up the phone a little deflated.
I think people see me discussing this journey so nonchalantly, and they assume that money is not a factor for me. That is simply not true. Money is a factor. It is perhaps one of the scariest factors of this entire process if we are being completely honest.
Money is a factor.
It’s just that I am not about to allow money to be the factor that keeps me from having a child. I refuse to do that. I have a good job and I make a decent salary. I live a sufficiently middle class lifestyle. I have always been able to provide myself with some luxuries, and those luxuries have simply needed to disappear as of late. There has always been food on my plate and a roof over my head and I am confident in my ability to continue providing that. I have faith that all the rest will fall into place when the need arises.
I am not rich though, and money is a factor.
I made the decision a few months back that I would finance the larger chunk of this process. Seattle Reproductive Medicine has a financing plan available with good rates that I couldn’t pass up. I simply don’t have that kind of money lying around. Let’s not forget that I bought my condo last year too. My rainy day income is more or less depleted. Some people have scoffed at my plan to finance my IVF, but my point to them is that I financed every cent of the price on my car 2 years ago, and no one even batted an eye. That car cost $10,000 more than my IVF is going to cost, and I will maybe have it 5-6 years. Why is it completely acceptable to finance a car, but not make that same investment in your family?
So yes, I will be financing my IVF, and I am not ashamed to admit it. The problem is that in financing, I have come to think of all of these costs as being under one umbrella. I keep thinking of the main number I was quoted, and forgetting about all the “little” costs along the way. I will have at least two more appointments like today’s, with big tabs of their own. My sperm sample will cost a few hundred dollars, and the hormones I will need to buy can run up to $2000.
Money is a factor.
And I get scared. When I think about numbers like that (and the big ticket number at the end) of course I get scared. I worry about whether I will be able to afford this; about how far in debt I will have to go.
When really, the cost of IVF is only a drop in the bucket when it comes to the actual cost of raising a child.
I called my dad today on the way to my appointment, needing reassurance that I could handle this all; needing to hear that I am still making the right decisions no matter how scary some days may be. When I left my appointment I texted him the final amount ($769), along with the fact that I felt like I was going to vomit (a combination of 6 vials of blood being drawn and a late onset panic over the money). He replied:
Keep your eye on the prize! Baby = Priceless!
I kind of love my dad. I told him he was a failure as a father today (both because of yesterdays waste of a trip to the ER and because he flat out refuses to tell me which sperm donor he prefers), but I don’t know what I would do without him.
And I do have to admit that something pretty incredible happened at the doctor’s office today.
I smiled.
This last year, going to the OBGYN has been hard for me. I am not one of those infertile women who will begrudge other women their babies or pregnancies (although, the no vagina pregnancy did leave me just the slightest bit bitter.) I do not believe that someone else being pregnant makes me any less so. But, going to the OBGYN and being surrounded by baby bumps and crying newborns has felt like torture this last year. It has seemed abnormally cruel, and I have often found myself fighting back tears and wondering why they don’t have a separate entrance for infertile's like me.
Today though, I sat in the lobby and I smiled. I swooned over the newborn in his grandfathers arms across from me. I chatted up the woman sitting next to me who was about to pop.
I smiled.
Suddenly I felt like that could be me soon. I didn’t feel discouraged or left out of the club; instead I felt like screaming “Me too! Me too! I’m going to be a mommy too!”
And if nothing else, that simple change in attitude made it pretty clear to me that I am making no mistakes here.
No amount of money is going to keep me out of that mommy club.
Let The Voting Begin
Voting has officially started between the top three donors. Here are the three profiles for review one more time:
Donor 1
Donor 2
Donor 3
In order to vote, go to the profile of your choice and scroll to the bottom. There will be a heart there that you can click on in order to "like" that donor. From there, if you go to the main page of the community you will be able to see who is in the lead in the right hand column.
The time to consider all possible angles is over – the donor of your choice needs your vote now! This is serious business ladies and gentleman; we're talking about my baby daddy here!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0kJHQpvgB8
Donor 1
Donor 2
Donor 3
In order to vote, go to the profile of your choice and scroll to the bottom. There will be a heart there that you can click on in order to "like" that donor. From there, if you go to the main page of the community you will be able to see who is in the lead in the right hand column.
The time to consider all possible angles is over – the donor of your choice needs your vote now! This is serious business ladies and gentleman; we're talking about my baby daddy here!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0kJHQpvgB8
April 21, 2010
This Is My Life
I just left the hospital, and I have what can only be described as the most ridiculous hospital story ever.
Yesterday morning I woke up and my arm was sore. It felt like I had just had blood drawn (which I hadn’t), but I kind of just figured I had slept on it wrong and that it would go away.
Except that it didn’t. In fact, throughout the day it actually started to spread down my arm into my pinky. It was tenderness. Even a little numbness. Nothing that kept me from being functional, just an odd and uncomfortable sensation down my arm.
At the place where the discomfort began, I could feel a little lump in the vein (which was also visible). My first thought was a blood clot, since I know those are fairly common with any kind of hormonal medications. I honestly wasn’t too worried though. I felt fine, and I figured I would give it a few days.
But then I saw Teeny today, and she definitely got a little anxious about it. She said my arm was actually swollen, and after doing a lot of consulting she was fairly sure it was a blood clot too. She didn’t want me to go to the hospital though. She feared they would put me on drugs with their own set of side effects, after the current drugs I’m on caused this in the first place. Her solution was that we get me on some natural tonics and do a few more rounds of cupping to get the blood flowing. She really thought we could resolve this naturally.
And I was 100% behind her in that. I wanted nothing to do with hospitals or more drugs.
But I made a mistake.
I told my dad.
And the poor man practically started crying as he told me a blood clot could cause me to have a stroke and die. That he didn't want me to die.
And then I did start crying as I explained to him that I did not want to go to the hospital. That I was tired of hospitals.
Beyond that, I had a little blood clot scare last year (again - just not so uncommon on these types of drugs), and after blood tests and cat scans it turned out to be nothing but a waste of my time. I didn't want to go through that again.
But my dad is one of the most important people in my life, and I’m not great at knowing I’ve worried him. So then I posted a query on the community, asking if you lovely women would go to the hospital if you were me, and the resounding answer was “Yes! Go!” I called Loo and she sealed it for me. She programs pacemakers for a living and spends a lot of time in hospitals. She is often in life or death situations, and even her supervisor was telling her to get me to go.
So, I packed a bag. Everyone seemed so convinced that this could be a blood clot and should therefore really be checked out, and I wasn’t about to get admitted to the hospital without my laptop. I then very calmly proceeded to the ER – annoyed by the whole thing and thinking that Teeny was going to kill me if I let these people put “rat poison” in me.
And I was frustrated. I didn’t want to be going. I wanted to treat this the natural way. I was annoyed that not a single person had agreed with my plan to stay hospital free.
At the hospital they got me in a room and had me strip down and get in one of those fancy gowns. My blood pressure was taken and I was informed that I would likely need a scan of some kind to check for other clots. Wonderful.
I was actually chatting with one of the nurses when a doctor came in and asked me what I was there for. I told him I thought I might have a blood clot, and needed to be checked. He asked me what made me think this, and I told him my symptoms. Then he asked me who told me to come.
Ummmm. Errrr. Hmmmm.
I couldn’t tell the man my dad sent me. Or that my online community of friends told me to come.
Either answer would make me look like a whack-job.
So, I told him my acupuncturist sent me.
Even though it was a total lie and that was the last place Teeny would want me to be. Even though after the fact I realized that telling him my acupuncturist sent me didn’t exactly make me all that much more credible.
Did I mention that Teeny cupped me today too? And the marks were pretty obvious with me sitting there in my barely there hospital gown.
Yep. I looked like a loon.
The man didn’t touch me. Didn’t touch my arm. Barely even looked at me.
Instead he said “Blood clots in the arm are highly unlikely. I’m just not impressed by your symptoms. I’m not going to order any tests. You can go ahead and put your clothes back on and go home. If the issue persists, see your general practitioner in 5 days.” He actually said "If it is a clot and it moves to your lungs and you die, then you should come back here."
I think he was making fun of me.
Can we just say embarrassing? I hate going to the hospital, and now I am the hypochondriac who didn’t even warrant a blood draw?
Thanks dad.
The best part is, I am actually going to have to pay a co-pay for that visit. I literally got there, got naked, and got dressed. Don't women usually get paid for that, and not the other way around?
And this is my life.
And all you can do is laugh. Because it’s funny. Because sometimes this nonsense is just funny.
But let me tell you what – I am going to be on the floor dying before I ever agree to go to the emergency room again.
And my arm still hurts.
Yesterday morning I woke up and my arm was sore. It felt like I had just had blood drawn (which I hadn’t), but I kind of just figured I had slept on it wrong and that it would go away.
Except that it didn’t. In fact, throughout the day it actually started to spread down my arm into my pinky. It was tenderness. Even a little numbness. Nothing that kept me from being functional, just an odd and uncomfortable sensation down my arm.
At the place where the discomfort began, I could feel a little lump in the vein (which was also visible). My first thought was a blood clot, since I know those are fairly common with any kind of hormonal medications. I honestly wasn’t too worried though. I felt fine, and I figured I would give it a few days.
But then I saw Teeny today, and she definitely got a little anxious about it. She said my arm was actually swollen, and after doing a lot of consulting she was fairly sure it was a blood clot too. She didn’t want me to go to the hospital though. She feared they would put me on drugs with their own set of side effects, after the current drugs I’m on caused this in the first place. Her solution was that we get me on some natural tonics and do a few more rounds of cupping to get the blood flowing. She really thought we could resolve this naturally.
And I was 100% behind her in that. I wanted nothing to do with hospitals or more drugs.
But I made a mistake.
I told my dad.
And the poor man practically started crying as he told me a blood clot could cause me to have a stroke and die. That he didn't want me to die.
And then I did start crying as I explained to him that I did not want to go to the hospital. That I was tired of hospitals.
Beyond that, I had a little blood clot scare last year (again - just not so uncommon on these types of drugs), and after blood tests and cat scans it turned out to be nothing but a waste of my time. I didn't want to go through that again.
But my dad is one of the most important people in my life, and I’m not great at knowing I’ve worried him. So then I posted a query on the community, asking if you lovely women would go to the hospital if you were me, and the resounding answer was “Yes! Go!” I called Loo and she sealed it for me. She programs pacemakers for a living and spends a lot of time in hospitals. She is often in life or death situations, and even her supervisor was telling her to get me to go.
So, I packed a bag. Everyone seemed so convinced that this could be a blood clot and should therefore really be checked out, and I wasn’t about to get admitted to the hospital without my laptop. I then very calmly proceeded to the ER – annoyed by the whole thing and thinking that Teeny was going to kill me if I let these people put “rat poison” in me.
And I was frustrated. I didn’t want to be going. I wanted to treat this the natural way. I was annoyed that not a single person had agreed with my plan to stay hospital free.
At the hospital they got me in a room and had me strip down and get in one of those fancy gowns. My blood pressure was taken and I was informed that I would likely need a scan of some kind to check for other clots. Wonderful.
I was actually chatting with one of the nurses when a doctor came in and asked me what I was there for. I told him I thought I might have a blood clot, and needed to be checked. He asked me what made me think this, and I told him my symptoms. Then he asked me who told me to come.
Ummmm. Errrr. Hmmmm.
I couldn’t tell the man my dad sent me. Or that my online community of friends told me to come.
Either answer would make me look like a whack-job.
So, I told him my acupuncturist sent me.
Even though it was a total lie and that was the last place Teeny would want me to be. Even though after the fact I realized that telling him my acupuncturist sent me didn’t exactly make me all that much more credible.
Did I mention that Teeny cupped me today too? And the marks were pretty obvious with me sitting there in my barely there hospital gown.
Yep. I looked like a loon.
The man didn’t touch me. Didn’t touch my arm. Barely even looked at me.
Instead he said “Blood clots in the arm are highly unlikely. I’m just not impressed by your symptoms. I’m not going to order any tests. You can go ahead and put your clothes back on and go home. If the issue persists, see your general practitioner in 5 days.” He actually said "If it is a clot and it moves to your lungs and you die, then you should come back here."
I think he was making fun of me.
Can we just say embarrassing? I hate going to the hospital, and now I am the hypochondriac who didn’t even warrant a blood draw?
Thanks dad.
The best part is, I am actually going to have to pay a co-pay for that visit. I literally got there, got naked, and got dressed. Don't women usually get paid for that, and not the other way around?
And this is my life.
And all you can do is laugh. Because it’s funny. Because sometimes this nonsense is just funny.
But let me tell you what – I am going to be on the floor dying before I ever agree to go to the emergency room again.
And my arm still hurts.
The Sperm Of It All
I’m guessing that most of you have a favorite donor between #1 and #2 by now. They are both just such different donors, and I can see people readily choosing sides one way or the other (I can also see each guy having equal support since they are both such incredible donors in their own ways). I think I’m about to throw a monkey wrench in your plans though… I’m guess Donor # 3 is going to win over a few hearts from both sides of the fence.
If Donor 1 is my safe donor and Donor 2 is my risky yet enticing donor, Donor 3 is that cute kid in the band who you may never notice; except that when you do - he kind of blows you away.
Actually, Donor 3 is the guy who took you to prom your junior year that you promptly put in the “friends” zone, only to find him on Myspace years later and realize he had turned into this incredibly attractive and talented man.
That’s right – I’m pretty sure Donor 3 may have been my Junior prom date.
And again, I could debate the pros and cons between these donors in my head all day. In fact, I have. Sleep is not something that is coming easily to me these last few days. I am not sure I could accurately put into words how much more difficult this process has been than I ever anticipated. I need your help. I need your opinions. I need your choices.
I also wanted to let you know that I heard from California Cryobank (home to Donor 1) yesterday. It’s kind of a funny story, because they are following me on Twitter and were privy to the start of this journey. One thing I have said before about California Cryobank is that they have the most user friendly and aesthetically pleasing site of all the banks. For me that is a big bonus, because I get easily confused when things don’t flow well! So I already liked their site the best (which obviously isn't a deciding factor in the donor I choose - it's just nice that they are a bit more user friendly) and then yesterday they further won me over. They had seen some questions both here and at the community about the donor process in general, and they took the time to e-mail me some of the answers. On top of that, they sent me a few extra staff impressions of Donor #1, just to give me another “view” of him. In answer to some of your questions, they wrote:
1. Why is CCB a little more expensive?
Because we offer the most donors (over 300) and have the strictest screening standards of any sperm bank in the world (less than 1% of donor applicants make it through the screening process) our operating costs are significantly higher than other banks. We maintain labs in Cambridge (between Harvard and MIT), Palo Alto (on the Stanford campus), and in Westwood (down the street from UCLA) to make sure our donors are drawn from some of the top universities in the US. We employ 3 full-time genetic counselors, 5 medical directors, and a team of quality control and lab experts.
2. Washed vs. Unwashed
We know your donor only has IUI/Premium vials available, but we also wanted to let you know that your physician can do a wash if you purchase an unwashed vial. He/she may charge you a fee for the lab procedure, which is usually higher than the difference in vial cost between IUI and ICI.
And to give me a little extra taste of Donor number 1, they wrote:
Hair: Great hair, on the darker side of brown. Thick with a healthy shine.
Eyes: His eyes are green-green, not that hazel-green mix. Long eyelashes.
Smile: He has an easy smile, which reminds me of Travis Pastranas’.
Personal style: Nothing to do with genetics, but still fun to know. His style is casual but not sloppy. In his pic he is wearing a short-sleeved button up with the top couple buttons undone.
Look-a-Likes: These are tough since I can see parts of all his look-a-likes in him. I would say his smile and face shape are closest to Travis & Mike, his eyes are slightly rounder in shape, like Dave’s, and seem to smile at you “smiling eyes.”
Skin: He has great skin, free of blemishes and healthy, even-toned coloring. It is definitely medium and he tans well. A few freckles here and there.
Can I just say a big “Thank You” to California Cryobank? Never would I have thought to ask them some of these questions, but they completely took it upon themselves to answer them for me (and to fill in a few more blanks about the donor) simply because they had read that postulating here. I think that shows a pretty substantial dedication to what they are doing, and I was really impressed (and incredibly thankful for the kind thoughts!)
I do have to say that a little extra info has warmed me up to Donor #1 a bit more too. What do you guys think?
I’m going to give you all 24 hours to “evaluate” Donor 3, just so that you have as much time to check him out and ponder his attributes as you did with the other two. Plus, it will give you a bit more time to compare and contrast the 3 of them – I simply don’t think this is a choice that should be made lightly! Discuss the pros and cons of each, and let me know what you think of our new donor! Starting tomorrow though, the voting begins. I will let everyone know when, but sometime tomorrow there will be new “like” buttons on each of the profiles. At that point, you will be able to “like” the donor of your choice – and we will be able to see which donor is in the lead.
Any private bets are on your own dime!
If Donor 1 is my safe donor and Donor 2 is my risky yet enticing donor, Donor 3 is that cute kid in the band who you may never notice; except that when you do - he kind of blows you away.
Actually, Donor 3 is the guy who took you to prom your junior year that you promptly put in the “friends” zone, only to find him on Myspace years later and realize he had turned into this incredibly attractive and talented man.
That’s right – I’m pretty sure Donor 3 may have been my Junior prom date.
And again, I could debate the pros and cons between these donors in my head all day. In fact, I have. Sleep is not something that is coming easily to me these last few days. I am not sure I could accurately put into words how much more difficult this process has been than I ever anticipated. I need your help. I need your opinions. I need your choices.
I also wanted to let you know that I heard from California Cryobank (home to Donor 1) yesterday. It’s kind of a funny story, because they are following me on Twitter and were privy to the start of this journey. One thing I have said before about California Cryobank is that they have the most user friendly and aesthetically pleasing site of all the banks. For me that is a big bonus, because I get easily confused when things don’t flow well! So I already liked their site the best (which obviously isn't a deciding factor in the donor I choose - it's just nice that they are a bit more user friendly) and then yesterday they further won me over. They had seen some questions both here and at the community about the donor process in general, and they took the time to e-mail me some of the answers. On top of that, they sent me a few extra staff impressions of Donor #1, just to give me another “view” of him. In answer to some of your questions, they wrote:
1. Why is CCB a little more expensive?
Because we offer the most donors (over 300) and have the strictest screening standards of any sperm bank in the world (less than 1% of donor applicants make it through the screening process) our operating costs are significantly higher than other banks. We maintain labs in Cambridge (between Harvard and MIT), Palo Alto (on the Stanford campus), and in Westwood (down the street from UCLA) to make sure our donors are drawn from some of the top universities in the US. We employ 3 full-time genetic counselors, 5 medical directors, and a team of quality control and lab experts.
2. Washed vs. Unwashed
We know your donor only has IUI/Premium vials available, but we also wanted to let you know that your physician can do a wash if you purchase an unwashed vial. He/she may charge you a fee for the lab procedure, which is usually higher than the difference in vial cost between IUI and ICI.
And to give me a little extra taste of Donor number 1, they wrote:
Hair: Great hair, on the darker side of brown. Thick with a healthy shine.
Eyes: His eyes are green-green, not that hazel-green mix. Long eyelashes.
Smile: He has an easy smile, which reminds me of Travis Pastranas’.
Personal style: Nothing to do with genetics, but still fun to know. His style is casual but not sloppy. In his pic he is wearing a short-sleeved button up with the top couple buttons undone.
Look-a-Likes: These are tough since I can see parts of all his look-a-likes in him. I would say his smile and face shape are closest to Travis & Mike, his eyes are slightly rounder in shape, like Dave’s, and seem to smile at you “smiling eyes.”
Skin: He has great skin, free of blemishes and healthy, even-toned coloring. It is definitely medium and he tans well. A few freckles here and there.
Can I just say a big “Thank You” to California Cryobank? Never would I have thought to ask them some of these questions, but they completely took it upon themselves to answer them for me (and to fill in a few more blanks about the donor) simply because they had read that postulating here. I think that shows a pretty substantial dedication to what they are doing, and I was really impressed (and incredibly thankful for the kind thoughts!)
I do have to say that a little extra info has warmed me up to Donor #1 a bit more too. What do you guys think?
I’m going to give you all 24 hours to “evaluate” Donor 3, just so that you have as much time to check him out and ponder his attributes as you did with the other two. Plus, it will give you a bit more time to compare and contrast the 3 of them – I simply don’t think this is a choice that should be made lightly! Discuss the pros and cons of each, and let me know what you think of our new donor! Starting tomorrow though, the voting begins. I will let everyone know when, but sometime tomorrow there will be new “like” buttons on each of the profiles. At that point, you will be able to “like” the donor of your choice – and we will be able to see which donor is in the lead.
Any private bets are on your own dime!
April 20, 2010
How Safe Is Your Sperm?
Picking sperm is a tricky business, and you are all about to really find that out with Donor #2.
There were some pretty decent questions that came up yesterday that I wanted to try to take the time to answer if I could.
First of all, there are no adult photos of these donors unfortunately. Donor #3 (whose profile will be up tomorrow) does have some adult photos available for purchase, but I just figured I didn’t want to see those unless I chose him. It felt weird to spend the money on the photos for him when I had none for the other two to make fair comparisons with. If I choose him, then that is absolutely something I will purchase for my files, but I just don’t see it as a being a decision maker now.
Even further, I don’t really see the baby photos as holding all that much weight with me either. I had a mullet and my mom dressed me in flannel – I would hate to be judged based on my baby photos! I just think they are a fun added bonus, but my decisions really are weighing more heavily on the profile information above and beyond the photos.
I also had a lot of people commenting on the fact that I listed the price of Donor 1’s sperm as a negative. Let me just be clear that I really do like all 3 donors, so when I am listing pros and cons it is more like a point given here and one taken away there. None of them are deal breakers, just things I have to consider when looking at the overall picture, you know? An extra $300 would surely not keep me from getting the sperm I want – it is just one check mark to put in that negative column. And just so that there is no confusion: Donor number 1’s more expensive sperm has nothing to do with him having a better “sample”; it just has to do with how much preparation went into it at the clinic. IUI cycles need washed sperm, but for IVF it isn’t necessary. It would kind of be like putting premium gasoline in a brand new car that runs just fine on regular unleaded. The extra cost just isn’t necessary, but it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t fuel up at the extra cost if need be!
And I may have just given the worst example ever! Hopefully you get the picture.
Also, just to clarify on CMV – a betting person would bet on the odds that I am CMV positive, which would mean my donors CMV status wouldn’t matter at all. If 80% of people have this, let’s be real – there is probably a 95% chance that I have it! From what I understand too, contracting CMV during pregnancy only leads to complications (which can vary from nothing to severe) in 15% of those cases. So, if 20% of women are CMV negative at the time of pregnancy (which I likely am not) when they are then exposed, and only 15% of them develop complications – we are playing with very low odds here. And again: CMV status isn't something I would even think about if I was going about this the "natural" way. Did you know your and your husbands CMV status when you went about baby making? It is certainly something to consider, but not a game changer. Just one more point deducted, you know?
The honest truth is that there are things I like about all 3 donors, and things I dislike about all 3. Donor number 1 is my safe donor. He is safe because he is the only CMV free donor, and he is safe because there is nothing major about him I dislike. On the flip side, there is also nothing major about him that I love.
Donor number 2 isn’t quite so safe – in fact, he is described more than once as being like a “rock star”. I certainly have things about him that I love, but I also have things about him that I hate. Much stronger feelings on both ends of the spectrum about him.
So between these two donors the choice really is: do I want to go “safe”, or do I want to take a leap at extraordinary?
There were some pretty decent questions that came up yesterday that I wanted to try to take the time to answer if I could.
First of all, there are no adult photos of these donors unfortunately. Donor #3 (whose profile will be up tomorrow) does have some adult photos available for purchase, but I just figured I didn’t want to see those unless I chose him. It felt weird to spend the money on the photos for him when I had none for the other two to make fair comparisons with. If I choose him, then that is absolutely something I will purchase for my files, but I just don’t see it as a being a decision maker now.
Even further, I don’t really see the baby photos as holding all that much weight with me either. I had a mullet and my mom dressed me in flannel – I would hate to be judged based on my baby photos! I just think they are a fun added bonus, but my decisions really are weighing more heavily on the profile information above and beyond the photos.
I also had a lot of people commenting on the fact that I listed the price of Donor 1’s sperm as a negative. Let me just be clear that I really do like all 3 donors, so when I am listing pros and cons it is more like a point given here and one taken away there. None of them are deal breakers, just things I have to consider when looking at the overall picture, you know? An extra $300 would surely not keep me from getting the sperm I want – it is just one check mark to put in that negative column. And just so that there is no confusion: Donor number 1’s more expensive sperm has nothing to do with him having a better “sample”; it just has to do with how much preparation went into it at the clinic. IUI cycles need washed sperm, but for IVF it isn’t necessary. It would kind of be like putting premium gasoline in a brand new car that runs just fine on regular unleaded. The extra cost just isn’t necessary, but it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t fuel up at the extra cost if need be!
And I may have just given the worst example ever! Hopefully you get the picture.
Also, just to clarify on CMV – a betting person would bet on the odds that I am CMV positive, which would mean my donors CMV status wouldn’t matter at all. If 80% of people have this, let’s be real – there is probably a 95% chance that I have it! From what I understand too, contracting CMV during pregnancy only leads to complications (which can vary from nothing to severe) in 15% of those cases. So, if 20% of women are CMV negative at the time of pregnancy (which I likely am not) when they are then exposed, and only 15% of them develop complications – we are playing with very low odds here. And again: CMV status isn't something I would even think about if I was going about this the "natural" way. Did you know your and your husbands CMV status when you went about baby making? It is certainly something to consider, but not a game changer. Just one more point deducted, you know?
The honest truth is that there are things I like about all 3 donors, and things I dislike about all 3. Donor number 1 is my safe donor. He is safe because he is the only CMV free donor, and he is safe because there is nothing major about him I dislike. On the flip side, there is also nothing major about him that I love.
Donor number 2 isn’t quite so safe – in fact, he is described more than once as being like a “rock star”. I certainly have things about him that I love, but I also have things about him that I hate. Much stronger feelings on both ends of the spectrum about him.
So between these two donors the choice really is: do I want to go “safe”, or do I want to take a leap at extraordinary?
April 19, 2010
Let's Talk About Sperm
Do you want to know a not-so-secret secret?
I have my baby daddy options narrowed down to 3 fine specimens, and now I need your input.
That’s right. I am putting my baby daddy selection needs out to all of you. You know what they say about it taking a village to raise a child? Well I’m pretty sure it takes a village to choose the most suitable sperm! I’ve never hidden anything in this space, and I’m not about to start now. I have 3 pretty great donors, and now I need help choosing “the one”!
There are things about each donor that I like, and things that I dislike. I’ve got one donor from California Cryobank (CC), and 2 from Fairfax Cryobank (FC). I do have to say that FC offers so much more information for free (including medical histories), which I really like. CC made me pay $24 for a baby picture, while FC gave me both for free (I do now have baby photos of each possible donor). Also, for the donor I like at CC; they only have washed vials – which means his sperm is more expensive. Washed vials cost more and are necessary for IUI cycles, but they are not necessary for IVF cycles. FC has IVF vials for both donors I like, which means both of those donors would cost me less if I chose them.
Since I was able to get more information from FC I feel as though that is slightly weighting my decision. I like the CC donor a lot, but don’t want you to be confused about why there is less information for him – There was also a bit more information on the CC donor that I’m not including simply because it was on hand written forms that I couldn’t copy and paste. It was nothing game changing though. To get the same amount of donor information from CC that I got from FC for free though, I would have needed to pay money than I wasn’t willing to pay at this stage. I’m not opposed to spending it if I choose that donor (so that I have as much information in my files later on for my baby to be to access) but I’m not willing to pay for it right out the gate.
You should know that my main criteria for picking these donors were: Open ID donor (meaning they are willing to be contacted after the child is 18), green eyes, dark hair, and over 6’. Those were my “must haves” and everything else varies from guy to guy.
CMV status is the one category I am really struggling with. Only 1 of these donors is negative. I have never been tested and don’t know whether or not I am positive – I will also not be getting tested. It’s just not one of those that is regularly tested for since it has no symptoms unless contracted during pregnancy. I’ve been told it may be safer to choose a negative donor since I don’t know what I am, but that it isn’t crucial. CMV is an STD that carries no symptoms. 80% of people have it, and if we are being completely honest: given those statistics and my past (which I have never denied here), it is fairly likely that I am a carrier. If I am, the status of my donor has no significance. If I’m not, the status of my donor could have some effect. It wouldn’t be major, but it could lead to some complications during pregnancy. The thing is, if I were to have a baby the “normal” way, I would never know the status of my partner ahead of time. I am very torn on how much weight to place on my donors CMV status.
So here’s how this is going to work. In order to optimize discussion, there is going to be a profile posted today, tomorrow, and Wednesday at The Community for each donor. You will be able to discuss the donors individually as soon as their profiles pop up. Once all three are up, there will be a “like” button you can click on for the donor of your choice so we can see who get’s the most “votes”. I’ll post links to the new donor profile here every day as well.
I have seriously been anxious all day to get this ball rolling – I really and truly do need some added input. So, without further adieu – here is the profile for Donor number 1.
Are you ready to help me pick my baby daddy?!?
I have my baby daddy options narrowed down to 3 fine specimens, and now I need your input.
That’s right. I am putting my baby daddy selection needs out to all of you. You know what they say about it taking a village to raise a child? Well I’m pretty sure it takes a village to choose the most suitable sperm! I’ve never hidden anything in this space, and I’m not about to start now. I have 3 pretty great donors, and now I need help choosing “the one”!
There are things about each donor that I like, and things that I dislike. I’ve got one donor from California Cryobank (CC), and 2 from Fairfax Cryobank (FC). I do have to say that FC offers so much more information for free (including medical histories), which I really like. CC made me pay $24 for a baby picture, while FC gave me both for free (I do now have baby photos of each possible donor). Also, for the donor I like at CC; they only have washed vials – which means his sperm is more expensive. Washed vials cost more and are necessary for IUI cycles, but they are not necessary for IVF cycles. FC has IVF vials for both donors I like, which means both of those donors would cost me less if I chose them.
Since I was able to get more information from FC I feel as though that is slightly weighting my decision. I like the CC donor a lot, but don’t want you to be confused about why there is less information for him – There was also a bit more information on the CC donor that I’m not including simply because it was on hand written forms that I couldn’t copy and paste. It was nothing game changing though. To get the same amount of donor information from CC that I got from FC for free though, I would have needed to pay money than I wasn’t willing to pay at this stage. I’m not opposed to spending it if I choose that donor (so that I have as much information in my files later on for my baby to be to access) but I’m not willing to pay for it right out the gate.
You should know that my main criteria for picking these donors were: Open ID donor (meaning they are willing to be contacted after the child is 18), green eyes, dark hair, and over 6’. Those were my “must haves” and everything else varies from guy to guy.
CMV status is the one category I am really struggling with. Only 1 of these donors is negative. I have never been tested and don’t know whether or not I am positive – I will also not be getting tested. It’s just not one of those that is regularly tested for since it has no symptoms unless contracted during pregnancy. I’ve been told it may be safer to choose a negative donor since I don’t know what I am, but that it isn’t crucial. CMV is an STD that carries no symptoms. 80% of people have it, and if we are being completely honest: given those statistics and my past (which I have never denied here), it is fairly likely that I am a carrier. If I am, the status of my donor has no significance. If I’m not, the status of my donor could have some effect. It wouldn’t be major, but it could lead to some complications during pregnancy. The thing is, if I were to have a baby the “normal” way, I would never know the status of my partner ahead of time. I am very torn on how much weight to place on my donors CMV status.
So here’s how this is going to work. In order to optimize discussion, there is going to be a profile posted today, tomorrow, and Wednesday at The Community for each donor. You will be able to discuss the donors individually as soon as their profiles pop up. Once all three are up, there will be a “like” button you can click on for the donor of your choice so we can see who get’s the most “votes”. I’ll post links to the new donor profile here every day as well.
I have seriously been anxious all day to get this ball rolling – I really and truly do need some added input. So, without further adieu – here is the profile for Donor number 1.
Are you ready to help me pick my baby daddy?!?
April 18, 2010
You Don’t Get a “Break”
I am about to make something that has nothing to do with me, all about me. You've been warned.
I took Chatty to get her first real haircut yesterday. When I told her a few weeks ago how badly I needed a cut and how I excited I was to see my favorite stylist for my birthday, she divulged that her hair hadn’t been cut at all in 3 years. Before that her mom would do it from time to time. She had never had a professional cut though and she was fascinated by the idea of it.
Seeing how excited she got even talking about it, I remembered yet again all those little luxuries that I take for granted as being “normal”. I love getting my haircut. I love being pampered, even if just for an hour. I love that I always leave feeling better than when I came. Even though it is one of those things I tend to take care of every 6-8 weeks (and therefore think of more as something I need to cross off my list - solely because it is so routine for me), it is still one of those little luxuries in life. One that not everyone gets.
So at my appointment last week, I asked my stylist how she would feel about cutting Chatty’s hair. I go to a nice enough salon and Chatty tends to be a little dirty. Her clothes are rarely clean (just yesterday she had spaghetti sauce all over her - she said it was the cleanest shirt she had), her hair is always ratty, and sometimes she smells - sometimes she smells bad. It’s just the way it is, and I didn’t want to make an appointment with my stylist without her being fully aware of what I was getting her into. I took Chatty to get a manicure once and the woman wore latex gloves the entire time. I was so irritated (although Chatty of course didn’t notice the difference), but I learned my lesson. I now make sure when we do girly things that people are willing to treat her just like any other girl who would step foot into these places. If they aren’t, we don’t do it.
Thankfully my stylist was completely open to the idea and we made an appointment for yesterday.
When I picked Chatty up she was beyond excited. We were driving to the salon and she was filling me in on the happenings of the week. That’s when she told me her mom is taking a “break”.
She said her mom is “really tired from all the hard stuff in life” and is taking her older sister and baby brother with her while she leaves town for a little while. Chatty and her little sister will be left behind. They are going to be shuffled around amongst neighbors and friends (whoever is willing to take them for however long) until her mom is ready to come back.
And my heart sunk. It literally sunk. I had to fight my anger from showing, because she was in the car and she seemed so OK with all of this. She acted like it was totally normal. She actually said “it will be kind of like a good experiment for when I’m an adult and my mom isn’t around!”
She is 12. She doesn’t need that experiment.
But she also didn’t need me telling her to feel bad about something she seems to feel OK about, so I kept my seething rage in check and tried to get as many details as I could. From the best that I can gather, there are no real details. Mom will drop her off at the first neighbor’s home willing to chip in, along with information about who else may be willing to help. These people will then move the kids back and forth at their will. Chatty assured me that she will call me from week to week to let me know where she is so I can pick her up.
I’m angry. I’m angry that this little girl has no stability in her life. I’m angry that this mother is so selfish that she has ceased being a parent. I’m angry that she gets 4 kids she clearly isn’t fit to be a mother to, and I may not get any.
And it is personal to me. I was 13 when my mother stopped being a part of my life. She had stopped being a parent long before that, but that was the point when she gave up all of her rights. That was the point when she decided it was easier not to be in my life than to be in it. That was the point when she decided living her life was more simple without a teenage daughter.
It was selfish. My mother was weak and incapable of focusing on what was truly important; being a parent. She was too caught up in all the changes in her life to remember that she still had this massive responsibility. This miracle she had been gifted with that she just walked away from because it didn’t fit into the picture she had for her life.
My mom needed a “break” too. Only her break lasted 13 years. It was only recently that I even received any kind of heartfelt apology for what happened then, and even that was filled with excuses. Most days I think I’ve forgiven my mom (not let her in my life, but forgiven her), but then things like this happen and I am angry all over again. That little girl inside of me is left screaming “Why! Why wasn’t I enough! Why didn’t you love me enough?”
And now I look at Chatty and I wonder if that is how she feels. If deep down inside she knows she is being left behind. If part of her fears whether her mom will ever come back.
I have no idea what the time frame of this “break” is, or how much has truly been thought out and planned. All I know is that no part of it sounds right to me. No part of it sounds like something a mother should do to their child.
And I hurt. I hurt for Chatty. I hurt for that younger version of me. And I hurt for the person I am now who wants so desperately to be a mother and is watching another mother take that role for granted.
I may take my bimonthly haircuts for grated, but I can’t imagine ever taking my child for granted.
And if I did, I would really hope someone in my life would slap some sense in me.
You just don’t get a "break" from being a mother. It doesn’t work that way. Or at least, it shouldn’t.
Unfortunately, I am in no position to slap the sense into this mother. I hardly know her and if I overstep my bounds I could very truly risk my ability to see Chatty and at least ensure she is being safely taken care of.
So I have to keep my mouth shut and watch; as a mother walks away from her child.
A child who grinned from ear to ear yesterday as she showed off her new layers and bangs.
A child who beamed when a stylist told her she had fantastic hair.
A child who deserves more.
I took Chatty to get her first real haircut yesterday. When I told her a few weeks ago how badly I needed a cut and how I excited I was to see my favorite stylist for my birthday, she divulged that her hair hadn’t been cut at all in 3 years. Before that her mom would do it from time to time. She had never had a professional cut though and she was fascinated by the idea of it.
Seeing how excited she got even talking about it, I remembered yet again all those little luxuries that I take for granted as being “normal”. I love getting my haircut. I love being pampered, even if just for an hour. I love that I always leave feeling better than when I came. Even though it is one of those things I tend to take care of every 6-8 weeks (and therefore think of more as something I need to cross off my list - solely because it is so routine for me), it is still one of those little luxuries in life. One that not everyone gets.
So at my appointment last week, I asked my stylist how she would feel about cutting Chatty’s hair. I go to a nice enough salon and Chatty tends to be a little dirty. Her clothes are rarely clean (just yesterday she had spaghetti sauce all over her - she said it was the cleanest shirt she had), her hair is always ratty, and sometimes she smells - sometimes she smells bad. It’s just the way it is, and I didn’t want to make an appointment with my stylist without her being fully aware of what I was getting her into. I took Chatty to get a manicure once and the woman wore latex gloves the entire time. I was so irritated (although Chatty of course didn’t notice the difference), but I learned my lesson. I now make sure when we do girly things that people are willing to treat her just like any other girl who would step foot into these places. If they aren’t, we don’t do it.
Thankfully my stylist was completely open to the idea and we made an appointment for yesterday.
When I picked Chatty up she was beyond excited. We were driving to the salon and she was filling me in on the happenings of the week. That’s when she told me her mom is taking a “break”.
She said her mom is “really tired from all the hard stuff in life” and is taking her older sister and baby brother with her while she leaves town for a little while. Chatty and her little sister will be left behind. They are going to be shuffled around amongst neighbors and friends (whoever is willing to take them for however long) until her mom is ready to come back.
And my heart sunk. It literally sunk. I had to fight my anger from showing, because she was in the car and she seemed so OK with all of this. She acted like it was totally normal. She actually said “it will be kind of like a good experiment for when I’m an adult and my mom isn’t around!”
She is 12. She doesn’t need that experiment.
But she also didn’t need me telling her to feel bad about something she seems to feel OK about, so I kept my seething rage in check and tried to get as many details as I could. From the best that I can gather, there are no real details. Mom will drop her off at the first neighbor’s home willing to chip in, along with information about who else may be willing to help. These people will then move the kids back and forth at their will. Chatty assured me that she will call me from week to week to let me know where she is so I can pick her up.
I’m angry. I’m angry that this little girl has no stability in her life. I’m angry that this mother is so selfish that she has ceased being a parent. I’m angry that she gets 4 kids she clearly isn’t fit to be a mother to, and I may not get any.
And it is personal to me. I was 13 when my mother stopped being a part of my life. She had stopped being a parent long before that, but that was the point when she gave up all of her rights. That was the point when she decided it was easier not to be in my life than to be in it. That was the point when she decided living her life was more simple without a teenage daughter.
It was selfish. My mother was weak and incapable of focusing on what was truly important; being a parent. She was too caught up in all the changes in her life to remember that she still had this massive responsibility. This miracle she had been gifted with that she just walked away from because it didn’t fit into the picture she had for her life.
My mom needed a “break” too. Only her break lasted 13 years. It was only recently that I even received any kind of heartfelt apology for what happened then, and even that was filled with excuses. Most days I think I’ve forgiven my mom (not let her in my life, but forgiven her), but then things like this happen and I am angry all over again. That little girl inside of me is left screaming “Why! Why wasn’t I enough! Why didn’t you love me enough?”
And now I look at Chatty and I wonder if that is how she feels. If deep down inside she knows she is being left behind. If part of her fears whether her mom will ever come back.
I have no idea what the time frame of this “break” is, or how much has truly been thought out and planned. All I know is that no part of it sounds right to me. No part of it sounds like something a mother should do to their child.
And I hurt. I hurt for Chatty. I hurt for that younger version of me. And I hurt for the person I am now who wants so desperately to be a mother and is watching another mother take that role for granted.
I may take my bimonthly haircuts for grated, but I can’t imagine ever taking my child for granted.
And if I did, I would really hope someone in my life would slap some sense in me.
You just don’t get a "break" from being a mother. It doesn’t work that way. Or at least, it shouldn’t.
Unfortunately, I am in no position to slap the sense into this mother. I hardly know her and if I overstep my bounds I could very truly risk my ability to see Chatty and at least ensure she is being safely taken care of.
So I have to keep my mouth shut and watch; as a mother walks away from her child.
A child who grinned from ear to ear yesterday as she showed off her new layers and bangs.
A child who beamed when a stylist told her she had fantastic hair.
A child who deserves more.
April 17, 2010
What If I Told You There Was A Boy
And that he kind of takes my breath away. What if I told you he was kind, and sincere; intelligent and insightful. What if I told you my knees go weak when he looks at me with his sea green eyes, and that I love how I have to look up when I’m talking to him because he’s just that much taller than I am. What if I told you he has a heart for God like no one I've ever met. What if I told you that he holds my hand without hesitation, and that he never cuts me off when I start to ramble. What if I told you he has the most beautiful olive skin, and perfect facial hair (not too manicured, but also not too mangy). What if I told you he wants a house full of kids and would make the most amazing father. What if I told you that he expresses emotions without fear, and that he handles my moods better than any psychologist I’ve ever had. What if I told you that my stomach get’s gooey when he kisses me, and that he somehow understands when I get scared and knows how to ease my fears. What if I told you that I couldn’t imagine ever letting anyone in forever… until I met him.
What if I told you that I just made all of that up, just to see how it felt to write it.
Sorry. That was mean. Sometimes I get a little carried away!
Really, today is just a housekeeping kind of day around the blog. Just a few things I wanted to let you all know about…
For instance – what if I told you that I am starting to become overwhelmed by all the love and support you guys have shown me, and as much as it makes me smile; I am getting to the point where I almost can’t keep up with all the comments and e-mails.
What if I told you that as a result, I’m making some changes around here to make it just a little bit easier for me.
I have a new commenting system. I had avoided installing something for a while because I didn’t want to confuse anyone, but it’s gotten to the point where I need something. This will make it easier for me to respond to everyone, which is something I really want to be able to do! I know new things can be daunting at first, but this isn’t really all that scary. You can either sign up with an account through Disqus (which would make it so that you would never have to fill in the fields when commenting – they would already be there waiting for you to comment whenever you stopped by!) or you can fill in the name and e-mail fields whenever you comment (along with your blog address if you would like!) It really shouldn’t take any longer than the word verification used to take either way, but it will make it easier for me to comment back to everyone. Sometimes I get the most wonderful comments from people with no blog or e-mail link, and I’m sad because I really do want to say something but it is hard to respond 15 comments in to something that was said in the very beginning. That’s the other thing I like about this - it is set up like threaded comments, so you can respond directly to other commenter’s if you like! Go ahead, give it a try, hopefully it won’t be too scary!
The other thing going on is I am starting a new bible study at the urging of a friend. The study is “Captivating: Unveiling The Mystery of a Woman’s Soul” by John and Stasi Eldredge. A few women have expressed an interest in doing a group study through the community, so if you are interested in reading along and participating – check out the details here.
And because I know the beginning of this post will have everyone asking – there is no new news on the ex front. Still waiting and seeing over here. I actually have a date with the girls next Friday to make the big sperm purchase, so as of now everything is moving along as originally planned. You will all be the first to know if something changes though!
But seriously; if any of you meet the man described above, would you please send him my way?
A one way ticket to Alaska sounds perfect!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4v8FJhQ-teE
What if I told you that I just made all of that up, just to see how it felt to write it.
Sorry. That was mean. Sometimes I get a little carried away!
Really, today is just a housekeeping kind of day around the blog. Just a few things I wanted to let you all know about…
For instance – what if I told you that I am starting to become overwhelmed by all the love and support you guys have shown me, and as much as it makes me smile; I am getting to the point where I almost can’t keep up with all the comments and e-mails.
What if I told you that as a result, I’m making some changes around here to make it just a little bit easier for me.
I have a new commenting system. I had avoided installing something for a while because I didn’t want to confuse anyone, but it’s gotten to the point where I need something. This will make it easier for me to respond to everyone, which is something I really want to be able to do! I know new things can be daunting at first, but this isn’t really all that scary. You can either sign up with an account through Disqus (which would make it so that you would never have to fill in the fields when commenting – they would already be there waiting for you to comment whenever you stopped by!) or you can fill in the name and e-mail fields whenever you comment (along with your blog address if you would like!) It really shouldn’t take any longer than the word verification used to take either way, but it will make it easier for me to comment back to everyone. Sometimes I get the most wonderful comments from people with no blog or e-mail link, and I’m sad because I really do want to say something but it is hard to respond 15 comments in to something that was said in the very beginning. That’s the other thing I like about this - it is set up like threaded comments, so you can respond directly to other commenter’s if you like! Go ahead, give it a try, hopefully it won’t be too scary!
The other thing going on is I am starting a new bible study at the urging of a friend. The study is “Captivating: Unveiling The Mystery of a Woman’s Soul” by John and Stasi Eldredge. A few women have expressed an interest in doing a group study through the community, so if you are interested in reading along and participating – check out the details here.
And because I know the beginning of this post will have everyone asking – there is no new news on the ex front. Still waiting and seeing over here. I actually have a date with the girls next Friday to make the big sperm purchase, so as of now everything is moving along as originally planned. You will all be the first to know if something changes though!
But seriously; if any of you meet the man described above, would you please send him my way?
A one way ticket to Alaska sounds perfect!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4v8FJhQ-teE
April 16, 2010
When Do We Stop Asking "Why"?
I’ve been trying to track down my medical records for the last week or so from my egg donations. Dr. RE thinks it would be a good idea to look at those to help gauge what may best work for me with hormones this IVF cycle. The whole medical records situation is entirely too difficult though. Each clinic wanted to charge me $25 just to have the records taken out of storage, and then a per page rate after that. Beyond the cost, who knows how long it could take them to get the records out of storage in the first place.
I wouldn’t have been so frustrated if I hadn’t already been through this once before. My first doctor (who told me that my ovaries looked like “hell” while I was flat on my back in the middle of a vagisound) disputed the idea that I had ever been healthy. He proclaimed that my damage was so bad that there was simply no way I had ever been fit to donate my eggs. At his request, I had gotten all my records forwarded to him in November of 2008.
Much to his chagrin, he had to admit I had been a woman meant to make babies less than a year earlier.
That doctor was a jerk who played “wait and see” with me for far too long, and then finally said he wanted to cut me open and was pretty sure he was going to have to remove one if not both of my ovaries. I loved the logic there – let’s wait and see how bad this gets, and then when it gets too bad for me to handle I’m just going to take it all out so I don’t have to deal with you anymore.
I of course switched doctors at that point (and am still bitter that it took me 7 long months to build up the nerve to do so) and when I did, he transferred all of my records that were specifically from his office, but none of my donation notes that had been sent to him.
And thus, I found myself in the same boat of needing records now that I found myself in a year and a half ago. Things like that are frustrating – both for me and I’m sure also the records people.
Which is why I was going to have everything sent to me this time – so that I could ensure my medical file was complete and I wouldn’t have to go down this route with these clinics again.
I was all prepared to pay far too much for my records, when I got an e-mail from the agency I donated my eggs through. They had pulled my file and discovered all my records there. Everything I needed. Tucked away and waiting to be faxed to me for free.
Hallelujah!
I was so pumped that I wasn’t going to have to pay for them that I didn’t even think about how those records might affect me – until they started spitting out of my fax machine at work.
And suddenly, I was completely and totally absorbed.
I poured over every last page of those records. I strained to read every single note the doctors had written. I obsessed over the tiniest details.
I was searching for answers. Suddenly I was asking “why”.
I think I wanted to see something bad. Something that would point to why this all happened so quickly and so aggressively after my last donation. I wanted to see that they had spotted signs of endo during those procedures, or that something had seemed just the tiniest bit off. I wanted to know if there had been any hints of what was to come.
But there was nothing. No hints. No damage. No endo. No problems.
In fact, more than once in those notes the doctors performing the procedures commented on what a textbook case of female health I was.
And 6 months later I started getting more intense periods.
8 months later, they completely stopped.
11 months later, they returned so intensely I actually thought I was dying.
What happened? What explains how I went from textbook to far from it?
The truth is, I think it was the perfect storm. I think endo was probably always lurking in the background (given the information I found out after the fact about both my mother and grandmother needing hysterectomies due to endo – information I would have had earlier had my mother been in the picture, but what am I going to do about that now?) When I first started getting periods, they weren’t great. After 2 or 3 cycles I went on the pill when I was 13. I was on the pill for 12 years. I truly think it kept the endo at bay all that time and I just had no reason to suspect anything was wrong.
When I did my donations, there were heavy duty hormones involved. Hormones that are linked with increasing endo aggression (let me be clear – I do not believe that donating your eggs or going through fertility treatments could cause endo – I think I always had it and the hormones just amped things up a bit). After my last donation I chose not to go back on the pill. I reasoned that I was giving my body a break from all the hormones. I actually thought I was being healthy in this choice.
Again - decisions I may have made differently had I known I had a family history of endo, but I didn't know.
My first doctor hypothesized that my hormones never regulated after that last donation. He thinks they remained elevated, and also that I was likely dropping 2-4 eggs every cycle over that time - something that would have been prevented had I immediately gone back on the pill.
I think all of it combined is what resulted in this aggressive and unreasonable case of endo now. I don’t think anyone could have predicted it. I have no regrets and I don’t believe anyone is to blame (except maybe that first doctor, who was just a jerk and waited far too long to treat me). I just think it’s one of those things that happened.
But I would still like definitive answers. I would still like to know the truth for sure.
And I probably never will. So when will I stop asking “why”? When will I stop wondering?
I had to calm myself down today and remind myself yet again that endo has not ruined my life. That infertility is not the end of my world. In that brief moment I was becoming obsessed again, and I had to step back and rethink the grief I was allowing myself to feel.
I had to remind myself that I have actually gained a few things from this last year and a half too.
I have learned who my real friends are. Even further, I’ve learned that I actually have quite a few of those. There are people in this life who will always be around as long as it is beneficial for them; the minute the focus turns from their lives though, they're not who you thought they were. They won’t worry about your problems or console you in your grief; instead they will somehow make it about them - or they'll disappear completely. There are just some people in this world who aren’t capable of being there for someone else because they are too caught up in themselves. I had to learn that I had a few of those people in my life; but I also learned that I have far more strong, supportive, warm friends in my life who really do care about me no matter what - friends who want to be there for me and are actually more invested in this process than I would have ever expected them to be. That’s a truly amazing thing to have; to know that I have.
I’ve watched my faith grow. You wouldn’t think such a fall would bring you closer to God (in fact, you would think it would just make you angry at Him) but this did. It forced me to lean on Him. It forced me to rely on His plan. If it is at all possible, I am actually more calm and at peace today than I was before any of this started. I have more faith in Him and His plan for me than I ever did, and there is surely something to be said for that.
I realized how ready I am to be a mother. I always knew I wanted a house full of children, but I probably would have waited at least another 5 years before even thinking about it. I was having too much fun being young and single to spend too much time thinking about settling down and having babies. I was playing the field; being independent; falling in love with life. There is nothing wrong with any of those things, except that I don’t think they were all necessarily what I needed anymore. And now I know what I want. I know what I am prepared for. I know I am meant to be a mother – now, not 10 years from now.
My drive for writing has increased exponentially. I always wanted to be a writer, but I never wanted to put too much into it. I was afraid of failure. Afraid of putting my heart and soul into something and having it never make it anywhere. It was easier not to try. This journey has got me writing though. Not just here either. My freelance is going well and the book is half-way finished. A book. A book that could actually have my name on it. A book that people could pick up and hold. And I am here to tell you, that motivation would never have come if I hadn’t suddenly been driven to figure out how to be a mommy who can work from home. I wouldn't be writing with everything I've got if I hadn't been taken to this place I'm at now.
Finally, this entire fight has shown me how healthy I have become. The girl I was 10 years ago would have crumbled under this pressure. She would have caved to her old vices and hurt herself immensely. I’ve considered myself “healthy” for quite a few years now, but those years had been pretty easy/happy years. I was never really sure in that time how I would react to a real challenge; I was always a little afraid I would fall. I didn’t though. I didn’t fall. I didn’t return to those old bad habits. I didn’t even think about it. And now I know – no matter what, I can survive.
And maybe all of that is my “why”. Maybe there don’t have to be any more answers. Maybe that’s enough.
I don’t ever want to get so caught up in the searching for “why” that I fail to recognize how He has used what has happened here for His grace. I don’t believe He caused this to happen to me (sometimes I think bad things just happen), but I do believe He has a plan for how He will use it now. I do believe there is more that could be gained.
And all I have to do, is stop asking “why”.
I wouldn’t have been so frustrated if I hadn’t already been through this once before. My first doctor (who told me that my ovaries looked like “hell” while I was flat on my back in the middle of a vagisound) disputed the idea that I had ever been healthy. He proclaimed that my damage was so bad that there was simply no way I had ever been fit to donate my eggs. At his request, I had gotten all my records forwarded to him in November of 2008.
Much to his chagrin, he had to admit I had been a woman meant to make babies less than a year earlier.
That doctor was a jerk who played “wait and see” with me for far too long, and then finally said he wanted to cut me open and was pretty sure he was going to have to remove one if not both of my ovaries. I loved the logic there – let’s wait and see how bad this gets, and then when it gets too bad for me to handle I’m just going to take it all out so I don’t have to deal with you anymore.
I of course switched doctors at that point (and am still bitter that it took me 7 long months to build up the nerve to do so) and when I did, he transferred all of my records that were specifically from his office, but none of my donation notes that had been sent to him.
And thus, I found myself in the same boat of needing records now that I found myself in a year and a half ago. Things like that are frustrating – both for me and I’m sure also the records people.
Which is why I was going to have everything sent to me this time – so that I could ensure my medical file was complete and I wouldn’t have to go down this route with these clinics again.
I was all prepared to pay far too much for my records, when I got an e-mail from the agency I donated my eggs through. They had pulled my file and discovered all my records there. Everything I needed. Tucked away and waiting to be faxed to me for free.
Hallelujah!
I was so pumped that I wasn’t going to have to pay for them that I didn’t even think about how those records might affect me – until they started spitting out of my fax machine at work.
And suddenly, I was completely and totally absorbed.
I poured over every last page of those records. I strained to read every single note the doctors had written. I obsessed over the tiniest details.
I was searching for answers. Suddenly I was asking “why”.
I think I wanted to see something bad. Something that would point to why this all happened so quickly and so aggressively after my last donation. I wanted to see that they had spotted signs of endo during those procedures, or that something had seemed just the tiniest bit off. I wanted to know if there had been any hints of what was to come.
But there was nothing. No hints. No damage. No endo. No problems.
In fact, more than once in those notes the doctors performing the procedures commented on what a textbook case of female health I was.
And 6 months later I started getting more intense periods.
8 months later, they completely stopped.
11 months later, they returned so intensely I actually thought I was dying.
What happened? What explains how I went from textbook to far from it?
The truth is, I think it was the perfect storm. I think endo was probably always lurking in the background (given the information I found out after the fact about both my mother and grandmother needing hysterectomies due to endo – information I would have had earlier had my mother been in the picture, but what am I going to do about that now?) When I first started getting periods, they weren’t great. After 2 or 3 cycles I went on the pill when I was 13. I was on the pill for 12 years. I truly think it kept the endo at bay all that time and I just had no reason to suspect anything was wrong.
When I did my donations, there were heavy duty hormones involved. Hormones that are linked with increasing endo aggression (let me be clear – I do not believe that donating your eggs or going through fertility treatments could cause endo – I think I always had it and the hormones just amped things up a bit). After my last donation I chose not to go back on the pill. I reasoned that I was giving my body a break from all the hormones. I actually thought I was being healthy in this choice.
Again - decisions I may have made differently had I known I had a family history of endo, but I didn't know.
My first doctor hypothesized that my hormones never regulated after that last donation. He thinks they remained elevated, and also that I was likely dropping 2-4 eggs every cycle over that time - something that would have been prevented had I immediately gone back on the pill.
I think all of it combined is what resulted in this aggressive and unreasonable case of endo now. I don’t think anyone could have predicted it. I have no regrets and I don’t believe anyone is to blame (except maybe that first doctor, who was just a jerk and waited far too long to treat me). I just think it’s one of those things that happened.
But I would still like definitive answers. I would still like to know the truth for sure.
And I probably never will. So when will I stop asking “why”? When will I stop wondering?
I had to calm myself down today and remind myself yet again that endo has not ruined my life. That infertility is not the end of my world. In that brief moment I was becoming obsessed again, and I had to step back and rethink the grief I was allowing myself to feel.
I had to remind myself that I have actually gained a few things from this last year and a half too.
I have learned who my real friends are. Even further, I’ve learned that I actually have quite a few of those. There are people in this life who will always be around as long as it is beneficial for them; the minute the focus turns from their lives though, they're not who you thought they were. They won’t worry about your problems or console you in your grief; instead they will somehow make it about them - or they'll disappear completely. There are just some people in this world who aren’t capable of being there for someone else because they are too caught up in themselves. I had to learn that I had a few of those people in my life; but I also learned that I have far more strong, supportive, warm friends in my life who really do care about me no matter what - friends who want to be there for me and are actually more invested in this process than I would have ever expected them to be. That’s a truly amazing thing to have; to know that I have.
I’ve watched my faith grow. You wouldn’t think such a fall would bring you closer to God (in fact, you would think it would just make you angry at Him) but this did. It forced me to lean on Him. It forced me to rely on His plan. If it is at all possible, I am actually more calm and at peace today than I was before any of this started. I have more faith in Him and His plan for me than I ever did, and there is surely something to be said for that.
I realized how ready I am to be a mother. I always knew I wanted a house full of children, but I probably would have waited at least another 5 years before even thinking about it. I was having too much fun being young and single to spend too much time thinking about settling down and having babies. I was playing the field; being independent; falling in love with life. There is nothing wrong with any of those things, except that I don’t think they were all necessarily what I needed anymore. And now I know what I want. I know what I am prepared for. I know I am meant to be a mother – now, not 10 years from now.
My drive for writing has increased exponentially. I always wanted to be a writer, but I never wanted to put too much into it. I was afraid of failure. Afraid of putting my heart and soul into something and having it never make it anywhere. It was easier not to try. This journey has got me writing though. Not just here either. My freelance is going well and the book is half-way finished. A book. A book that could actually have my name on it. A book that people could pick up and hold. And I am here to tell you, that motivation would never have come if I hadn’t suddenly been driven to figure out how to be a mommy who can work from home. I wouldn't be writing with everything I've got if I hadn't been taken to this place I'm at now.
Finally, this entire fight has shown me how healthy I have become. The girl I was 10 years ago would have crumbled under this pressure. She would have caved to her old vices and hurt herself immensely. I’ve considered myself “healthy” for quite a few years now, but those years had been pretty easy/happy years. I was never really sure in that time how I would react to a real challenge; I was always a little afraid I would fall. I didn’t though. I didn’t fall. I didn’t return to those old bad habits. I didn’t even think about it. And now I know – no matter what, I can survive.
And maybe all of that is my “why”. Maybe there don’t have to be any more answers. Maybe that’s enough.
I don’t ever want to get so caught up in the searching for “why” that I fail to recognize how He has used what has happened here for His grace. I don’t believe He caused this to happen to me (sometimes I think bad things just happen), but I do believe He has a plan for how He will use it now. I do believe there is more that could be gained.
And all I have to do, is stop asking “why”.
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