I Get It Now

I was active in our school’s theater arts program all throughout high school. The program was run by a very pretty but tough-as-nails teacher, “Ms. Q.” Ms. Q had taught at the school for years, and was in her very late 40s by the time I was in 9th grade. She was both feared and respected by most of us I would guess, and certainly by me.

Even though she lived a good hour and a half away from our school, she was there day in and day out, holding rehearsals till after 11 at night and working us to death on the weekends. Pleasing her was not an easy feat. She took note of every mistake we made and held us to answer for each, through yelling or not -- it didn’t really matter. Sometimes you could hear her screaming at some poor bloke even if you were in a closed classroom down the hallway. Sometimes she’d just lose it and go off on everyone and everything, and lord help you if you were there to hear it.

For the most part though, I think we all knew that she did these things because she had high standards and wanted us to be the best. And if you heard her chuckling during your comedic performance it made you feel like a million bucks. If she ever told you you did a good job, you felt like a billion bucks.

I really, really liked her.

Of course, it wasn’t “cool” to like Ms. Q, so when my classmates would go off on her, I’d partake dutifully, dramatically recounting her latest crazy antics or adding my two cents to the Ms. Q topic du jour.

But the truth was, she was always exceedingly nice to me. I always felt like an outcast at the school and particularly in the theater department, so when I received approval or accolades from Ms. Q, it always meant a lot to me, more than she could have possibly known. Sometimes, during some down-time, I’d be in her office doing some work for her, and she’d let out a joke or a laugh or a warm smile or talk about her husband, and I thought to myself, “She’s really a sweetheart and a nice person, everyone’s so wrong about her.”

But there was one thing that I always thought was very strange – she didn’t like babies or kids. When former students would come visit her with their babies, my friends and I would ooh and ahh and coo over them, but Ms. Q would be stand-offish, with a look of aversion on her face that said, “Eww, babies? Weird! Gross!” Same with other teachers – they’d bring their newborns or little kids to show off, and while us students would gather round to see and maybe get to touch the cute things, Ms. Q seemed revolted. Which only lent credence to her reputation of being a cold bitch.

When it was my graduation day, I gave her a small gift (I think it was something stupid like candles), my way of letting her know that despite my troublesome ways, I really loved her and very much appreciated all she’d done for me. A short time later, I received a very sweet thank-you card from her. In it, she said “you are my children and it is always hard to say goodbye…”

A couple years later, I heard that Ms. Q had quit teaching and had given birth to twins.

Strange, I thought – she hated kids! Huh? Well, good for her, that’s pretty cool! (IVF and fertility treatments were nowhere near my radar or knowledge at that time, so I just thought hey, she got knocked up at that age, rad!)

Now, of course, it all makes sense. All of it. I get it now. I think back and feel like I know her better now than I ever did then. My heart hurts for that teacher of all those years ago. For how much pain she must have been in. How she must have had failed treatment after treatment all that time. For the jabs to her heart when her colleagues popped out babies and went on and on about them while they were all hanging out in the teachers’ lounge. How she said we were her “children.” How she must have gotten the bfn calls while she was at school. Why she’d lose it sometimes. Why she acted like she didn’t like babies. And how incredibly happy she must have been to finally become a mother.

I never thought I’d ever have anything whatsoever in common with Ms. Q. Kind of weird that now I do.

IF Girl Once...IF Girl Always?

I told my mom yesterday that IF had changed me.  I told her that no matter what success we have with IVF, I will never be the person I was before.  I told her that I still haven't had an emotional reaction to the +POAS, the +Beta, or the HBs on the U/S.  I don't know when I'll be able to let myself be happy about this and believe it's going to turn out okay.  I worry that time will never come.

I've heard that some people who have lost a considerable amount of weight...no matter what they see in the mirror or on the scale, they still feel like the same overweight person on the inside.  I feel like regardless of what happens (no matter how good)...inside, I will still be the Infertile Girl.

Thoughts, feelings, experiences?

A Response to "When is it over?" by Jes

I gave myself a lot of deadlines, *sigh*...

I don't know the answer.  I don't know if there is an answer.  Part of me can't believe that I'm 35 and childless...no, all of me can't believe it.  This wasn't supposed to be my life.  And even though my HPT and Beta were positive...I still can't really believe this is going to happen for me.  Maybe if I'd only tried for a few years...but after more than 7 (even though it was just the natural way) it seems completely, totally, entirely out of my reach.

I had it all planned out, too.  The age at which I'd be married, the age at which we'd start having children (and the age at which we'd be done.)  I can't believe I'm so far off track...35 years of my life are behind me and the thing I thought would be my life's work (raising a family) hasn't even started yet.

And now...I worry that I've lost the ability to be happy.  I've done such a good job at shutting down, at not letting things get to me...even the +HPT couldn't elicit an emotional response.  Everyone at the doctor's office was so excited for me, why couldn't I be excited for myself?  Because, it's early!  Because I know all the things that can/may still go wrong that will cause this to be even worse than just a regular unsuccessful cycle.  I still feel like a failure...I'm still angry that this may never happen for me (and if it does, I had to go through a huge load of shit to get it.)

So yeah...I have no answers for you, Jes.  My guess is that you're not done...you're just feeling extremely emotional right now and that once you get it out of your system (like that ever happens) you'll be ready to go again.

But there does have to be a stopping point, doesn't there?  When you're broke?  When you're broken?  When did that ever stop any of us?

When is it over?

So, I've been having this conversation in my head for a couple of weeks now, and I need to get it out there.
When do I say 'Enough'?
How do I decide if this quest for a child is over?
What is down the other fork in the road...the one w/out kids?

I am a big planner - college, good job, husband, family, grandkids, etc...all planned out. Well, you girls all know how that goes. I'm feeling lost without a plan right now.
So, I had a major breakdown on Sunday night - partially alcohol induced from the Super Bowl party, but that's beside the point - I WAS do for a breakdown.
I just don't know if I can continue on. I don't know if I have it in me to try again, and if I don't, then what??? What's my new plan? Quit the stable job I only took because of benefits and track down my 'dream job', or quit it all and travel the world? Do we sell everything and move to a new city? This is what runs through my head all the time!
I guess I feel like if I give up my journey for a child, then I better fill that hole with something...anything. I can't imagine just trudging through my days as is, w/ out SOME quest.

So, I know that we have so many wonderful BFP's in out group right now, and I am so thrilled for you, but regardless, I think that at one time or another, most of you have had a similar conversation with yourselves.
How do you deal with it? Did you give yourself a 'deadline'? When is the quest over for you?
Sorry to be the 'downer' post, but I value you all so much, and there is no one else that can understand this.

Letting Go of an Old Friend

One of my BFFs from high school was a guy. Let's call him Guy. We had hung out with the same group of friends in high school, and clicked pretty much right away, purely platonically. We were part of each other's families -- my mom loved him, his mom loved me. We would talk all the time, and go for lunch / dinner / coffee / errands together throughout college, grad school, and beyond. Guy and I saw each other through, vented, and gave advice about our respective boyfriends and girlfriends. We were there for each other through the break-ups. We were there for each other through deaths in the family. And when we'd go to nightclubs or parties, I'd be his wing-lady and he'd be my wing-man. Basically, we were the brother / sister each never had.

So it wasn't surprising that we met our future spouses at about the same time, got engaged within a month of each other, and got married within weeks of each other. It was so cool to have someone to share that experience with, and to get the opposite sex's perspective on the milestones. I LOVED his wife, and he and my husband became fast buddies. Now we'd hang out as couples all the time, and even planned to one day go on vacation all together.

So you can imagine my shock -- and truthfully, anger -- when almost a year into their marriage, I found out randomly, through the grapevine, that Guy's wife was 5 months pregnant. I felt betrayed -- I thought we were soooo close, why would he not share this important news with me? So I called him and confronted him, and got salt poured into the wound: he had invited several friends over to his home a couple months before for an announcement dinner. OUCH. It was disputed whether I had been invited or not to the announcement dinner, but I COULD. NOT. BELIEVE. that he didn't call me the next day and say "Hey, I wish you were there yesterday, we had some pretty big news to tell..." And what made it worse was that all these months, his wife and I were talking / emailing, and wasn't she wondering why I never bothered congratulating her on her pregnancy? She must've been so hurt and insulted!

Graciously, a couple months later, she invited me to her baby shower. I never got an apology from Guy, and so I was still very very hurt. This was one of my best, closest friends of 12 years that didn't think enough of me to tell me he was having his first child! So I politely declined the invitation, and didn't even send a gift. I think that was the nail in the coffin, because we pretty much stopped speaking after that, and I would only hear about his baby's birth, and of baby #2, through our mutual friends.

We run into each other every once in a while, and are polite and friendly with each other when we are in the same room. We've both been married for 4 years now -- they have 2 kids (and probably a 3rd cooking by now), while I have 0 to my credit. I can't help thinking every time we are together that Guy and his wife probably think I was mad and cut off our friendship because I resented that conception and pregnancy came to them so easily, while my husband and I had to try so hard. It wasn't true at the time -- because my husband and I did not start trying till over a year later. But it is true now.

Crabby thoughts I had yesterday....

1. It's really much longer than a 2ww. Once you get +HPT ...then you wait for the beta....then you wait for the 2nd beta....then it's the wait for the ultrasound....then it's the wait for the end of the 1st trimester...then you wait for your ultrasound at 20 wks to make sure there's no birth defects....it's the never ending forever wait. I know some of my patients worry the whole pregnancy, but do they really worry as much as any of us would? As much as someone that's dealt with failure after failure? I'm happy that things look good for me with my sister so far...but so scared and anxious for the future. I wish I could just feel the happy. My husband won't even give in to the happy because he doesn't want to "jinx it."

2. My hospital plays a lullaby as patients are transferred from labor and delivery to their postpartum room. It plays all day long. Yesterday, I heard it play and someone say, "Ohhh, that means a baby was just born...awww...so cute!" With sunshine and rainbows flying out of their butt. I don't know why this irritated me, but it did.

3. I hate my uterus. Why is it abnormal? What did I ever do to it? And why can't someone fix it? I love my sister and love that she's doing this for me. I don't know what I'd do without her and this chance she's given us. But I still feel a bit mad at my dumb uterus.

On a good note, there is a hallway in the hospital on the way to one of my offices where they change up the photo/picture displays from time to time (local artists, whatever) and I swear the past year at least this has been the Hallway of Torture. Black & white photos of people and their babies and kids. Well, THEY FINALLY TOOK IT DOWN! Woo hoo!

Stupid Sphincter!

Here I sit, at nearly three-thirty in the morning.  Being awake at this time of day has become somewhat routine of late, but the not-being-in-bed is new.

My lower esophageal sphincter isn't exactly doing its job.  I've had a couple of throw-up-in-my-mouth moments over the last couple of days (intended burps)...and tonight, as I lay in bed listening to the gurgles coming out of my throat and mouth, and felt each burp turn into a rush of burning pain in my esophagus, I decided to bring myself upright.  Ah, relief...to an extent.

Thanks, Progesterone! :-D

Back from MIA!!!

Okay, so I just typed out a long post, went to publish it and it disappeared! Grrr! So here we go again.

I looooove that KB started this blog for all of us but the only downside for me is that I can not post from work, which is where I used to post on FT. That's why you haven't heard from me lately. It's harder for me to find the time to do it when I'm home. I am going to try and keep up with it better than I have this past week though.

To answer you question, KB, from the first post, I think I was banned from FT for calling d@ve a communist b@stard for deleting the confessions thread. Haha

Anyways, I've had one big thing happen since I've been gone. I ran my first 5k this past Saturday!! It was such a huge accomplishment for me!! I can still remember the days when I couldn't run a quarter of a mile without stopping. But Saturday I ran the complete 3.1 miles in 32.59 minutes without stopping!! Wooohooo!! I'm very proud of myself. However, I'm hoping I'll be told I can't run for quite a while...my FET is today (finally)!! In fact, as soon as I'm done posting this I have to get ready to go! We are transfering two good/great (my clinic doesn't have a grading scale, or didn't tell me) quality 5day embies.

What is "elective", anyways?

Here goes my first blog....enjoy:

Today was a snow day, much to my surprise. I woke up at 8 to about 4 text messages from friends saying "snow day, snow day!!". I wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked outside, and BEHOLD!!! 3 inches of snow!! Wasnt even in the forecast last night at 10 when i checked weather.com. So, I have had a pretty uneventful day. It is currently 7 pm and im still in my pajamas. I basically slept and ate and thats all...but isnt it nice to have a day like that? The only 2 things I accomplished were:
1. changing my account info with dish network
2. getting information about benefits on my AFLAC policies
The dish stuff was no sweat. Other than the fact that my signal has been lost since about 10:30 this morning because of the snow, it was easy-peezy.
The AFLAC was a different story. I signed up for these policies on 04 because of the promise of the agents about how well they pay when you have a child. Several of my friends have received about $6000 at the time of delivery because of their policies. Now I have 2 of them, on top of accident and cancer policies. I have been meaning to call and find out if my hospital/surgical policy would cover my egg retrieval, since it is done under sedation. Of course, the customer service rep has NO clue what an "oocyte retrieval" is...let alone an egg retrieval. I explain it to her several times...her question "Is it elective?".... Well, HELL NO, its not elective!!! Is chemo elective to a cancer patient? Are nsaids elective to an arthritis patient? Are antibiotics elective to someone with an ear infection? NO. NO. NO. I did not choose infertility. It is a disease just like everything else. I didnt ask a doctor to cut me open to enlarge my breasts, or to remove fat. I am a victim to this cruel, debilitating disease. Although it is not life threatening, it is killing me! Or it was killing me.....I guess now I have conquered it. But the scars are still there...and will never go away. I will never forget to be thankful for the gift I have been given. I will never forget the pain and struggle that I went through to get here. It will take time to return to the person I used to be. And there are many more, like me, who battle everyday. Some who fight many years more than I have....and some that will never win the battle. But they fought the good fight......and I promise it's not something anyone would wish on their worst enemy!

Things that remind me of you....

I was having dinner tonight with my DH. We've been on a "cleanse" described by Glamour magazine this week which basically is just eating healthy and avoiding crap. We are both looking SLIM!!! But the point of my ramblings....we were having tilapia w/mango salad. And my DH looks at me...love in his eyes...and says, "Ooo, you have MANGO in your hair." And all I could think of was my fellow infertile, MangoPuppy....