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Tuesday, September 28, 2004
The Marital Renaissance
I'm back. Perhaps you didn't even miss me since I don't post nearly as often as I intend to. When it comes down to it, there are so many of you that I read every day that somehow there isn't time to post myself.
This past weekend, (OK... from Thursday until last night/this morning) I didn't spend a lot of time near my PC. My husband got home from the corporate office in DC Friday evening. I spent Friday getting ready for his return. I had my eyebrows waxed. I had about 6 inches of my hair cut off (and yet it is still remarkably long...). And then he got home. Friday night...ahhh Friday night. That's all I'll say about that.
Saturday we had to go to a friend's housewarming party. And came home early. Because we couldn't stop thinking about Friday night and it was likely that we would become the first people kicked out of their new home for using their bar in a manner it was clearly not intended for. Yeah, Saturday was a good day.
Sunday? Not quite as good. We went to a garlic festival in the morning, then met his parents at 1:00 for a day on the boat. Which we almost got ourselves thrown off of for using the bow in a manner for which it was not intended. Alright, so technically, I don't think his parents noticed (we kept our hands to ourselves! We aren't animals! But our eyes and thoughts? Totally lascivious) We went to dinner with them and got home around 8:00. I did the usual Sunday night call the family things. Then my wonderful husband helped me out with a new blog design (which will be unveiled soon, I promise!). It made me very happy. And then we...well, I think you've noticed a pattern by now and don't need to hear it again. Suffice it to say, we are in a bit of a renaissance -- after nearly 5 years, I can honestly say we may be outdoing our honeymoon!
And now, for the not so good news. I was terrified that I would ovulate while my husband was gone. I'm charting temperatures for the first time ever. I'm doing OPKs. And so far, no shift in temperatures to indicate ovulation. Nothing but negatives on my OPK. And today is cd19. Shit. This? Is not a good thing. I'm hoping this isn't an anovulatory cycle. I'm thinking it likely is. Either that or it is going to be one fucked up long cycle.
So I need your help. All of you. I'm supposed to take prometrium from ovulation to cd1. I haven't ovulated or else my temperatures are unhelpful in pinpointing it and I didn't do an OPK one day this weekend, so maybe I would have had a positive then? I just don't want to screw up and not take the prometrium. So...what do you all think? What should I do? How can I know for sure? As I've said, I need to feel like I'm doing something, and not taking the pills this late in my cycle feels like not doing something. Should I just start taking them? Seriously, if I weren't charting, I would have started taking them on cd14. And my doctor didn't say that I *had* to chart... What would YOU do?
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Friday, September 24, 2004
For the Fertile Infertile
I am absolutely amazed at all of the options available in the world of assisted reproduction, from IUI to IVF to PGD to ICSI to donor eggs and/or surrogacy (complete or gestational). And yesterday I heard in the news about a woman, infertile due to chemotherapy, giving birth having had a transfer of her ovarian tissue back into her body. It is absolutely remarkable the things that can now be done. Not that it's all successful all the time. In fact, from what I've read of others blogs, it's hard as hell.
The thing that really gets me (and I'm not saying my situation is worse, please, don't get that) is that for someone like me, there appear to be a lot less options. To this point, I can get pregnant. Hell, I did that twice between November/December and May. The problem is that I also miscarried both of those within 4 months of each other. Because of all of my own congenital anomalies (one kidney, one lung, minimal heart murmur, diaphragmatic hernia, scoliosis with spinal cord damage in the neck, etc.) I was considered high risk before I ever got my first positive test. And now I am at higher risk for miscarriage, though all of my doctors try to say that risk is minimal.
So what is a girl in this situation to do? I'm taking prometrium, 200 mg 2/day from ovulation to cd1. Of course, my day 21 progesterone was not necessarily low. I was told it was "fine." But taking the prometrium is doing something. It's me actively trying not to go through this again. For all I know, those little round pills are just a placebo. But at least I feel like I'm trying. Because as we all know, there's no way to prevent a miscarriage. Sometimes these things just happen. It's nature's way. (For the record, anyone who has ever said this? It DOES NOT HELP A MOTHER TO HEAR IT!)
Once all of the genetic tests have been done and it is determined that neither you nor your husband have any genetic reason for your children to die, there isn't a whole lot that you can do. Then it comes down to the fact that either you have some problem with your uterus, cervix, or hormone levels, or "it's just one of those things...nature's way..." Because both of my babies were firmly attached (so much so that my body didn't recognize either loss), because I've had so many ultrasounds (before trying to conceive and nonstop during pregnancy), because I've had two D&Cs all with no evidence of a problem, my doctors have determined it is unlikely that my problem lies with my uterus. For me, there is nothing to do but try again. And if there is another death then we do the HSG, the endometrial biopsy, and then my OB doesn't know what to do so he'll send me on to the RE.
I now describe myself as "an extremely fertile infertile." Because in the end, that's what I am. I can't even count how many times I've heard, "at least you can get pregnant," and, "some people can't even get pregnant." I know all that. I feel terrible for people in that situation. But my response to people telling me this (assuming it's someone that I know well) is, "yes, but in the end, what good has that done me? I still don't have a baby in my arms."
My only wish is that there were something that could be done, some next step. I like knowing that if this doesn't work, we'll do x. And if that doesn't work, we do y. For me, my options are limited. I can keep trying on my own and maybe have success (in fact, maybe I'll have a successful outcome on my next positive, I couldn't say). For me, that's all that I can do. At this point, I can't wrap my heart around someone else carrying my child. Maybe that will change, but right now, that isn't for me. And while I would dearly love to adopt, and plan to at some point in my life, I don't have the financial ability to do so. We make too much money to get assistance, but have enough bills (college loans, car loans, NY rent, etc.) that we just don't have it. And since we don't own a home, we have nothing to borrow against.
I have no other options but to keep trying. I wish that more could be done. I wish more research was being done and more options existed for those who are infertile not because they can't get pregnant but because they can't stay pregnant.
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Sunday, September 19, 2004
Loneliness
Well, I have made it through the first day without my husband. He's away, at the corporate office in DC. He'll be gone through Friday afternoon. It's just incredibly lonely when it's just me and the cats. Can't imagine what it would be like without them. I have depended on my husband so much during this past year that it just doesn't feel right when he isn't here. I'm upset that I will likely ovulate while he is gone, so we'll have to wait another full month before we get a positive pregnancy test. More than that, I'm upset at the thought of how tired I am going to be on Friday. When my husband isn't here, I don't sleep. At least, not continuously and not soundly. But I think the thing that is the most upsetting is being without the sound of his voice, his laugh...the sound of his breathing beside me at night...the beat of his heart when he wraps his arms around me. The worst part about him being away is that he isn't here.
Is it Friday yet?
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Wednesday, September 15, 2004
That which we call a rose
Over the past couple of days, I have been doing things that quite frankly should have been done years ago. Namely, well, changing my name. I got married to Mr. W in May of 2000. I had every intention of changing my name because, quite honestly, I wasn't overly attached to being Miss M. I'm sure it had something to do with the divorce of my parents when I was two, the subsequent marriages of both of my parents, and the fact that my father was basically non-existent in my life. The decision to give up his name wasn't difficult as he had always had only slightly more than a biological claim on me. Please don't misunderstand me. I do love my father. In fact, it's probably a much deeper love than I have ever allowed myself to admit. It's my step-mother I don't like. To be truthful, I despise that wretched excuse for a woman and all that she is and does (which includes belittling her two adopted children, treating my brother and me badly, disrespecting my mother, and being controlling and manipulative of my father). As a result of her influence, my father simply was not around.
So, changing my name was never really a question. Unless of course you were to know exactly what the "W" stands for. It is sufficiently Jewish as to render it nearly impossible for an elementary student to pronounce, and as they put it "It sounds like it has a bad word in it!" So, I let them call me Mrs. W. I had asked my husband if he would be interested in my last name, but, he was not. He liked that he had a "z" in his name, wheras I did not. Also, he didn't really want to take my father's name (for the reasons previously mentioned and because before the divorce, my father was extremely physically abusive toward my mother).
You may be asking yourself why I didn't change my name sooner. It's very simple really: I am lazy. Of course, there is a secondary reason. In October of the year we were married, I bought a car. In my name. A 2001 Volkswagen New Beetle Turbo in Vortex, with all the toys. I love my car. And because my entire credit history was under Miss M, that is the name I had to apply with. The dealer did not want me to change my name immediately before the purchase (when I finally got my NY license after living here for 5 months) because he felt this could "confuse" the lenders. Apparently social security numbers are not sufficient to identify a person. So, I didn't change my name then. I planned to do it after the car was in my possession, but I just never got around to it.
I did however change my name on our bank accounts to be Miss M W (without a hyphen) so that my paychecks (which say simply Mrs. W) would not confuse the bank. I thought long and hard about whether or not I wanted to hyphenate. In the end, I decided that this was a bad idea. I think you have to have a combination including simple, common names in order to hyphenate. At least one of the names should be a one syllable name. They end of the first name should be some form of consonant if the beginning of the next is a vowel; the reverse of this is also acceptable.
Since neither of my names are appropriate for hyphenating (Irish and Jewish names just don't seem to have the right flow, at least, with the ones I'm stuck with), I have decided that the name I have put on my bank account is the one I am going with for my new Social Security card, which I expect to get in about three weeks: Miss Middlename M W. Yes, I am keeping ALL of my names. Because each part of my name is a part of who I have become. And when some day my child is born, he will have my name: Baby Boy(orGirl) M W.
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Other things I have been doing include going to work, studying and going to grad school. As I've said, I'm doing a lot of things that should have been done a long time ago!
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Sunday, September 12, 2004
Sir Elton, Dr. Fry and Me
My husband and I always have our best conversations in the car. Yesterday was no exception. It all began innocently enough. We were listening to VH1 Radio on XM. They were doing sort of a "Behind the Music" (only not that show; maybe All Access?) on Elton John. My husband asks which Elton John song is my favorite of the day (we both change our answers to that question frequently. Also, if you are not a fan of Sir Elton--Shut it! I love him!). Yesterday I was reminiscent and chose to answer with my favorites from college: Something about the way you look tonight, takes my breath away-ay-ay it's a feel...oh, right, I'm not singing I'm posting, so sorry. My other favorite of course, was Daniel. Also? Your Song.
I was reminded, as I frequently am, of the fact that during my junior year of college, I would take my CD player and headphones to every class with me. Before class started, I would read and listen to music. For whatever reason, whenever I went to Dr. Fry's Lit class, I would listen to Elton John. And Dr. Fry would always stop to ask me what CD I was listening to. And he would get excited if I told him that it was Elton John: "Is that the CD with Honky Cat on it? I love Honky Cat!"
As I reminisced, I realized that had I taken Dr. Fry's class sooner, the entire course of my college career would have been drastically different. You see, I have always loved the written word. But I was convinced that to study it on that level would take away the "fun" of reading. The joy in writing had long since disappeared in my life, thanks in part to writing classes. While I learned a lot, I also had the misfortune of learning from teachers who had not yet learned that in order for criticism to be well-received, it has to be constructive. So, while I scored in the high 80s and 90s on every assignment, I became more and more convinced that I was a horrible writer. Whether creative writing or research, I only saw negative comments on my papers (followed by a "Try harder next time! 98"). Now, if I had the opportunity to have a teacher who did for writing what Dr. Fry did for literature, I could be a much better writer today.
I took Dr. Fry's class during his last year before retirement. I remember being devastated that I wouldn't be able to take another of his classes. Kafka, Ovid, Dostoevsky, The Bhagavad Gita.
As I related all of this to my husband, I told him that my two biggest loves have always been children and books. I mentioned that if I had taken that class sooner, it is very likely that I would have become an English major rather than an Elementary Education major (I didn't like a lot of the El. Ed. professors at my college. So snooty!). My husband then said something that had never occurred to me: Why not combine the two? You know more than most about what is age appropriate for children. You can determine at what reading level something has been written. You KNOW books. You KNOW kids. Do something with that. Even if you aren't going for publication, WRITE FOR THEM.
And so, I am. I started last night. I have two fleshed out ideas that are going to be turned into children's books. At least one will be more of a picture book. Which means when I finish it, I'm going to be on a quest for someone to illustrate it for me. The other I haven't decided on. It could really go either way: picture book or young reader (grade 3-5). I'm actually excited! I'm focused on something other than my dysfunctional reproductive system. This year without a teaching job may well be the best thing I've done for me in a really long time.
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Friday, September 10, 2004
Return of The Void
I woke up this morning thinking about how soon I might test and whether or not all of the symptoms I have are side effects of Prometrium.
But now? I know the answer. Yes, folks, they are just side effects of the fucking Prometrium. The brown cervical mucus has gone. And in it's place the tidal wave that is my period. Which means that tomorrow instead of going hiking, I'll be home, crying, taking lots of Tylenol, and hugging my heating pad. Prometrium also has the added bonus of intensifying my period.
And I thought that I would be so upset when my period came. That I would be in such deep mourning then. But I think if this year has taught me anything, it is how to suffer in silence. Occasionally, I do have days when I lash out. But mostly, I just have "The Void." And even though I know it is useless this month, fucking tiny little Hope is down there, at the bottom of the Void, hiding in a corner where I can't get rid of her. And now? She's put on her cheerleading uniform and is busy shaking her pompoms and chanting "That's alright! That's okay! We'll get it next month anyway! Yaaaaaay! Sex!" Hope is one twisted, twisted bitch.
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Thursday, September 09, 2004
Trying this AGAIN
For the bajillionth time, blogger has decided to eat my posts. Every day since, well, the day after my last post, I have tried to no avail.
The quick update: Made it through my EDD yesterday. Was extremely sad. Did not stay at work all day.
Also, today is cd 25. Starting yesterday? Slight brown spotting/cervical mucus. Also? Extremely sore boobs and intense nausea. I also, uncharacteristically ate, oh, about 1/2 to 3/4 of a pound of potato salad. At once. I couldn't stop myself. Was so sick after that. I don't know. I had imagined I was pregnant again, but we've only been trying for one month. Still, I feel so bad. All the damn time, for DAYS. Like since Sunday. But no temperature, nothing to indicate I'm actually sick. But with the spotting now, a few days before my period, I'm assuming that I am. I'm sure it is too late to be implantation bleeding. Besides, I wouldn't be feeling sick like this before implantation. So, I guess I really am sick. It just won't go away.
Alright, this is a crappy post, but if blogger is just going to eat it? I'm totally not attempting to make this worthwhile. Sorry. Can't waste my time like that.
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Wednesday, September 08, 2004
What the fuck?
This is the THIRD time I've tried to post today and blogger hangs when I click publish. Grrr!
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The Void
I couldn't sleep last night. I felt sick and was generally just...
Well, I don't really know what I was. I don't know what to feel right now. Everything just feels so wrong. I'm not supposed to have a due date without a baby in my arms. That isn't how it's supposed to work out. I'm angry that it didn't work for me. But I don't know where that anger should be directed. So, it's just being internalized right now, and I pity the person today who will bear that anger. I know someone will. Someone who innocently says, "My but it's a lovely day!" (OK, apparently I'm expecting to run into Julie Andrews today) And I will utterly annihilate them. Of course, it's more than just anger that I feel. I wouldn't really classify it as "sadness" though that's the easy adjective to use. It's more of a complete internal void where all of the good things used to live.
But way down in the bottom of that void? Lives a very tiny spirit, who keeps growing, much as I try to shut it down. Hope is coming back, ever so slightly. My queasiness that I spoke of yesterday is still there. Add to that the fact that I'm tired. And my boobs HURT. I keep reminding Hope that it's only cd 24. That I'm on prometrium and that some of its side effects can mimic pregnancy symptoms.
I think that is only making this day worse for me. The certainty that these symptoms are attributable to something else, knowing that with only trying this month it is most likely that they are from something else. And yet being unable to fully eliminate that tiny spirit of Hope, knowing full well that when my period does start, I will be all the more decimated, mourning that negative, mourning my first loss, and wondering when it will all be OK again.
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Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Things I should not have done today
- I should not have taken a nap from 6:30 to 7:40 pm.
- I should not have eaten 1/2 pound of potato salad.
- I should not have eaten dinner one hour later.
- Dinner should not have been KFC chicken strips, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and a biscuit.
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I get to have the flu, too? Yay.
I checked my calendar again and apparently the one on my PC was wrong. My period shouldn't arrive until the weekend. Crisis averted!
Only problem now is I think I have the flu. My stomach has hurt off and on all day. I'm tired and grumpy. I feel like I could throw up at any minute. I wouldn't be surprised if I have a fever either as I flip-flop from being exceedingly cold to hot. I think I'm just going to take a nap and forget about everything for a while. It's either that or cry.
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Saturday, September 04, 2004
Things that sadden me
I woke up early this morning, had a decent morning. Went to an art/craft fair (uber-expensive art and handcrafted items). Things are good. And when we got home, my lovely husband wanted a nap. So, I bring my laptop into the bedroom so that I can be near him while he sleeps. I caught up on a few blogs and a few bulletin boards. And then I read the newspaper's website and became deeply disturbed.
A 23-year old woman left her children at home with her boyfriend while she drove a friend home. Before she got home, her little girl woke up. For the last time. The girl was crying, and when picking her up, giving her a glass of water and putting her back in her crib didn't comfort her and end the crying, the boyfriend punched her in the stomach. And that shut her up. Permanently. That one punch lacerated the little girl's liver. Her mother didn't check on her when she got home, just went to bed herself. When the mother woke up yesterday morning, she found her daughter dead in the crib.
I'm usually extremely upset over these types of things thinking about all of the people who would give anything to have children when others can throw away their children. Now I realize this was not done by a parent of the child, however I think that there are indicators that certain people should not be allowed to care for children and it is the parents' responsibility to ensure that they not leave their children with those people.
Today as I read it though, I don't mourn for those of us who would never do that to a child. I mourn for this child. For the many things that she will never do. I mourn for the mother who must live with the guilt, knowing she left her daughter in an unsafe situation. I think to, of another local mother this summer.
A single mother, living on the 9th floor of a high-rise low-income building by the river. She had 6 year old twins and a 3 year old son. She worked nights so that she could be the one with her children during the day. By all accounts, a good mother. Her children woke up earlier than usual and she just could not keep her eyes open. It was a hot day and the building has no air conditioning so she had opened her window. One of her 6-year olds woke her and pointed to the empty couch below the window. She ran to the window only to see her toddler lying on the ground below. He had been jumping on the couch when he tripped. He fought for his life for nearly a week before the injuries proved too much.
That was compared to the death of a child two years ago in another low-income high-rise on the other side of town. The same type of accident. Only after the publishing of this year's accident, the mother from two years ago felt guilty. She went to the police and confessed that she has severe psychological problems and had thrown her child from the window.
Stories like these devastate me. Not because I have been unsuccessful in carrying my own children. Rather, they devastate me on a social level. Surely somewhere out there, there is help for these women. Someone that they can trust to look after their children while they work or run errands. Surely there exists some mental health worker who will say, "I know you love your baby, but until you are well, you just can't have her." Or maybe there should be some sort of group home or hospital for these women to live in where both their mental well-being and the welfare of their children can be assured.
It is also stories like these that led me into education in the first place. Because if we can educate the children, when they grow up, they will know better. If we can expose them to a world that offers more than what they are used to, they will aspire to more. And hopefully the next generation will begin in a better place than they did.
This is also why I am still trying to talk my husband into becoming a foster parent. In addition to raising my own children, I want to give something back. I want to be a part of showing these kids what the world could (no, SHOULD) be like. My only fear is the heartbreak of giving them back to their mothers. And what if their mothers really aren't better when the kids go home?
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Thursday, September 02, 2004
One flew over the somethingsomething
I haven't had a lot to say lately. The primary reason for this being that my mind is too crowded for a single thought to emerge. Instead of focusing on any one in particular, here is a general overview of how standing-room-only my brain has become:
- I'm not teaching this year. There. I've said it. I have taught at the same elementary school for two years. Both times in leave replacements because there wasn't an available position. One other teacher was in the same situation, though he had been there about 3 months less than I. A position opened this year. All of the teachers on maternity leave came back, one wanted the open 2nd grade instead of her 5th grade. I had interviewed for that position, too. She got it. The man who had been doing the leave replacement for her got that job because men are desperately needed in elementary education. (Also, he really wants 5th grade, whereas I want something in the K-3 range)
- It has to be OK that I'm not teaching this year. I'm insane after last year (going back to teach the day after you find our your baby has died and you have a D&C? Does NOT make for an effective teacher!) and need a break.
- Maybe we'll find out I'm pregnant and I'll make it through to delivery. Or if I don't, then I'll finally have my referral to the RE. Maybe we can get it all taken care of in ONE year!
- Wait...NOBODY gets it all taken care of in one year. So, I have to hope that I just get pregnant and stay pregnant. Yeah. That's what I'll do.
- Please God, do NOT let me get my period next Wednesday. I know that is when it's due. I know I'll be all "I must be pregnant" if I don't...but please, don't let me bleed the day my baby was due. Please? I'll stop using the 'F' word...
- It's OK that I'm not teaching this year because I can finish my masters by the end of July. Why are psychology professors so fucking boring?
- God, let me ammend my request...no period and um...I won't think bad thoughts about pregnant women for ONE WHOLE DAY.
- Why the fuck did my husband's fucking coworker tell him his wife is pregnant? With their third? Because they "didn't have enough money to buy condoms?" Hey there, super-fertile boy, I've got four syllables for those too broke to have kids and worrying about what they will do now: VAS EC TO MY!
- Also, I can't believe you'd have sex with your wife. She scares me.
- Also, she has sex with you? You're three feet tall and skinnier than I used to be!
- Finally, your first child looks like Sloth from The Goonies.
- WHY am I such a bad person? Is this why I'm going to get my period the day my baby should have been born?
- Fuck me.
So yeah. Not really so much to blog about and now that I see those angry bullets*? I'm kind of wishing I hadn't written this. So, feel free to leave me lots of validating comments. Lie to me a little bit. Make me feel good. Because otherwise? I may send the fabulously fertile coworker condoms. And a copy of Goonies. ________________________________________________________________ * Ok, so when I typed this? Bullets. When I posted, no bullets. I so need a better, um, something. Anybody interested in doing a redesign for me? I have money...you could have some of it :) ________________________________________________________________ Edited 9/11/2004: New template = Return of the bullets!
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