It's already snowing in the Pacific Northwest.
I took the girls up to Mount Hood for Sammi's first snow this past Saturday while Cowboy was on ski patrol at Timberline.
I didn't take a photo because - good lord! - hauling around a wee baby in a front pack in a still-too-big down suit AND a toddler in all her snow gear AND all their diaper gear AND assorted practical gear is quite the logistics feat that I haven't cracked the code on yet.
But there I was practically short-roping both girls up the stairwell: Sammi in the Ergo front pack and Piper on my hip ("Momma, carry you," she said). Both girls are in blue snow suits because I flat out refuse to buy pink outdoor gear. REI and the Patagonia store in Portland - regrettably - don't leave me many options. I don't wear pink in the outdoors. Why should my girls?
"Oh, look at those adorable little boys," a women remarked on her way down the stairwell.
I guess I should expect as much when I dress them in blue.
But it pissed me off. So I am starting my one-woman mission to rid the outdoor industry of gender color stereotypes for children's gear. I'm tired of choosing between pink and blue when I drop a shit-ton of money on quality kid's outdoor gear. Because I will ALWAYS choose blue. Just to make a point.
For this and so much more outside fun, please stay tuned. I finally have figured out my new blog "voice" as I transition from family-building to family-managing. Just haven't had time to execute yet.
Story of my life these days.
Showing posts with label Sisters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sisters. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, September 15, 2008
Make New Friends...
...but keep the old.
Some are silver and the other gold.
Remember that cheesy song from summer camp?
I rarely do this, but it is high time for some shout outs to my bloggy friends. For the few of you still reading this blog, please go and spread the love.
The VERY first blog I read regularly was The Oneliner. Now known as Apron Strings, she brings home the improbable Cate from the hospital. I have tears of joy in my eyes for her.
The dearest Lori at Weebles Wobblog is a bit blue. This to shall pass, but for those of you who have light to spare, please go shine some her way.
My new friend Lxox from Sydney, AUS is waiting for her betas to fall as she experiences her second miscarriage. Those of you who know this special kind of hell - or those who have empathy to spare - please go lend her some support.
Namaste
Some are silver and the other gold.
Remember that cheesy song from summer camp?
I rarely do this, but it is high time for some shout outs to my bloggy friends. For the few of you still reading this blog, please go and spread the love.
The VERY first blog I read regularly was The Oneliner. Now known as Apron Strings, she brings home the improbable Cate from the hospital. I have tears of joy in my eyes for her.
The dearest Lori at Weebles Wobblog is a bit blue. This to shall pass, but for those of you who have light to spare, please go shine some her way.
My new friend Lxox from Sydney, AUS is waiting for her betas to fall as she experiences her second miscarriage. Those of you who know this special kind of hell - or those who have empathy to spare - please go lend her some support.
Namaste
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
Thoughts on yesterday
Hope abides; therefore I abide.
Countless frustrations have not cowed me
I am still alive, vibrant with life.
The black cloud will disappear.
The morning sun will appear once again
All in its supernatural glory.
- Sri Chinmoy
# # #
I copied down this poem off the blog of another (who no longer blogs and has removed her site so I can't even point you in her direction). I've never had the urge to get a tattoo, however, if I were to get one, it would be this poem. But maybe in Sanskrit or in some other beautiful-fonted language.
I think this poem is so appropriate for the ambivalent feelings many might have towards Mother's Day. For whatever our reasons.
Maybe it reminds us of what we are going through now.
Maybe it reminds us of struggles we've conquered. Or are in the process of conquering.
Maybe it reminds us of someone who is no longer there and the sadness that enveloped us after their departure.
I thought this poem should live on in this circle.
I look at my hand-scribbled version on the back of my notebook everyday.
Countless frustrations have not cowed me
I am still alive, vibrant with life.
The black cloud will disappear.
The morning sun will appear once again
All in its supernatural glory.
- Sri Chinmoy
# # #
I copied down this poem off the blog of another (who no longer blogs and has removed her site so I can't even point you in her direction). I've never had the urge to get a tattoo, however, if I were to get one, it would be this poem. But maybe in Sanskrit or in some other beautiful-fonted language.
I think this poem is so appropriate for the ambivalent feelings many might have towards Mother's Day. For whatever our reasons.
Maybe it reminds us of what we are going through now.
Maybe it reminds us of struggles we've conquered. Or are in the process of conquering.
Maybe it reminds us of someone who is no longer there and the sadness that enveloped us after their departure.
I thought this poem should live on in this circle.
I look at my hand-scribbled version on the back of my notebook everyday.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Housecleaning
I've done a little organizing on my blog.
When I first started reading blogs in the late fall of 2006, only one blog author that I faithfully read was pregnant. And she was just newly so.
By the time I started That Was The Plan in spring 2007 - after my second miscarriage - there were a handful of ladies, maybe three or four, who were on their way.
Undoubtedly I initially connected with blogs where I "felt" I had more in common with the author. Sometimes our commonality was recurrent miscarriage. Or maybe I sensed an author had similar life experiences to my own. Oftentimes, I just enjoyed the way a person wrote and could feel a personality that jibed with my own from her posts. Hence, I read more blogs of people still struggling than those who had already hit the jackpot.
Sometimes the disparity between those with success and those still struggling seemed downright futile. But I loved reading the success stories. It gave me hope.
This past weekend, I realized that almost one-third of the blogs I read are written by women who have stared down the barrel of IF and have come out still standing on the "other" side. Another third are well on their way.
What amazes me, too, is how different their paths are.
My college roommate (who does not blog) struggled with IF for 5 long years. The birth announcement she sent out last Christmas heralding the arrival of her son read simply, "Believe."
Trust me. Believing is hard to do when we've been conditioned through our experiences to not believe. I still struggle with believing.
Another friend asked me the other day if I was more relaxed now that I am in my second trimester. I told her I was starting to become more chill now that I was getting closer to the point where they would try to save my daughter if I delivered early.
You mean, you are still thinking that way? She wanted to know.
Her rhetorical comment made me realize that she just didn't understand. But I was okay with it.
So here's my deal:
For those who feel they have made it to the other side, I will continue to rejoice with you and help heal the wounds by understanding what you've been through.
For those still struggling, please know that I will stick by you until you reach your other side. On the days when you can't, I will continue to believe for you. Because I know in my soul that everyone will make it one way or another.
When I first started reading blogs in the late fall of 2006, only one blog author that I faithfully read was pregnant. And she was just newly so.
By the time I started That Was The Plan in spring 2007 - after my second miscarriage - there were a handful of ladies, maybe three or four, who were on their way.
Undoubtedly I initially connected with blogs where I "felt" I had more in common with the author. Sometimes our commonality was recurrent miscarriage. Or maybe I sensed an author had similar life experiences to my own. Oftentimes, I just enjoyed the way a person wrote and could feel a personality that jibed with my own from her posts. Hence, I read more blogs of people still struggling than those who had already hit the jackpot.
Sometimes the disparity between those with success and those still struggling seemed downright futile. But I loved reading the success stories. It gave me hope.
This past weekend, I realized that almost one-third of the blogs I read are written by women who have stared down the barrel of IF and have come out still standing on the "other" side. Another third are well on their way.
What amazes me, too, is how different their paths are.
My college roommate (who does not blog) struggled with IF for 5 long years. The birth announcement she sent out last Christmas heralding the arrival of her son read simply, "Believe."
Trust me. Believing is hard to do when we've been conditioned through our experiences to not believe. I still struggle with believing.
Another friend asked me the other day if I was more relaxed now that I am in my second trimester. I told her I was starting to become more chill now that I was getting closer to the point where they would try to save my daughter if I delivered early.
You mean, you are still thinking that way? She wanted to know.
Her rhetorical comment made me realize that she just didn't understand. But I was okay with it.
So here's my deal:
For those who feel they have made it to the other side, I will continue to rejoice with you and help heal the wounds by understanding what you've been through.
For those still struggling, please know that I will stick by you until you reach your other side. On the days when you can't, I will continue to believe for you. Because I know in my soul that everyone will make it one way or another.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Coming Out
One of my favorite business trips of the year is a trade show whereby all the retailers of outdoor gear come to buy next year’s products from the manufacturers – a veritable "Grown Ups Toys-R-Us." In my ten + years in the outdoor sports industry, I’ve made several lifelong friends most of whom come to this show. It’s like an annual high school reunion.
A few of the women in this circle knew of my struggles to start a family.
I kept this pregnancy under wraps from most of them. I just didn’t want to write those emails if it didn’t work out. This past trip, however, their genuine joy over my obvious belly was a wonderful thing to see.
Except for one woman. I met her last year. Over the phone. She wanted to hire me for a great job in Colorado. She wanted things to move fast, explaining that she just really needed a break from the pace she was keeping.
I knew from a colleague that this woman had struggled with miscarriages and a failed IVF. She is a few years older than me. We are similar in that we believed wholeheartedly that we could easily start families in our late-30’s only after netting the grad degree, the spouse, the house and paying it all off with a management-level position. (Suckers).
In one of our final conversations last fall, she had all but hired me and bought our plane tickets to Colorado when I put on the brakes.
"The truth is, I’m a stirrup queen," I admitted over the phone, "And I don’t think I can fairly commit the time and energy you need for this position right now because I’m struggling to start a family."
With that, we launched into an hour-long discussion about our fertility struggles.
She admitted that she had scheduled IVF #2 for the fall and wanted to reduce the stress and the level of hours she was keeping before embarking on round 2. She cautioned me not to wait to try IVF and even offered up a referral to her RE in the Denver-area.
It was the strangest and most satisfying interview I’ve ever had. It was also the first time I publicly put my personal life before my work. I declined the offer. A few weeks later I found out I was pregnant with Missy.
Flash forward to January. I would see her face-to-face at an event where it would be too difficult to dodge each other. I hoped that she, too, would be pregnant.
I knew her cautious and detached "congratulations" all too well as she stared at me in disbelief. Had the shoe been on the other foot, I know I would have behaved somewhat similarly. I felt so bad. I wanted to give her a hug. And apologize for getting pregnant when she had not.
After a bit, she warmed up and then peppered me with questions. What had I done? Had I used acupuncture? Herbs? A traditional Chinese medicine diet?
When asked, I’ve always been open about my journey. But this conversation really forced me to think about and articulate why this time might have been different from the others. Aside from whatever mystical connection to the universe or God’s "Plan" or whatever, what had I done or not done to contribute to this pregnancy’s success?
In a nutshell:
Yoga. Each of my BFPs was preceded by a spate of dedicated yoga practice. Even after "experts" told me that Ashtanga was contributing to my lack of progesterone issues, I never got pregnant when I wasn’t practicing Ashtanga yoga regularly.
Progesterone Supplements. Even with Missy, who by all accounts is healthy, I had falling progesterone levels. My thoughts on low progesterone and pregnancy are so long-winded that I will save it for a separate post, but I firmly believe that the three suppositories a day saved this pregnancy.
Diet. I did follow a TCM yang-deficiency diet for several months before this pregnancy. And after I got pregnant and was weaned off progesterone, I nearly ate a pint of ice cream to make up for it all.
Chinese Herbs. I ditched using these 2 months before becoming pregnant this time. I think they were hampering my emotional state.
Acupuncture. I ditched this 2 months before becoming pregnant this time. However, I did resume acupuncture for recurrent pregnancy loss right when I found out I was pregnant and continued weekly treatments until the end of my first trimester.
Work stress. While I don’t advocate quitting one’s job if you truly love it, but it is pretty ironic that we achieved a successful pregnancy on the first cycle where I wasn’t imbibing in a daily dose of sadness and stress as my company prepared to move to another state.
Letting Go. Yeah right. Someone with the blog moniker "Ms. Planner" can never just let go. But I had resigned myself that this was our last month of trying before moving on to IVF or adoption. We would never have timed sex again, I promised us.
Clear Blue Easy Fertility Monitor. Fuck those OPKs and obsessing if I was one of those women who ovulated 12 hours or 48 hours post-positive stick. I brought out the big guns and discovered that instead of being a CD 13 & 14 girl, I’m a CD 14 & 15 girl. Now that I think about it, we always got pregnant if we timed things for the evening of CD14 instead of morning. I never was a morning person anyway.
That is my journey. But everyone’s journey is different and uniquely their own. I borrowed a little from my intuition, a little from Western medicine, a little from Eastern medicine, a little psychotherapy. And crafted my own little Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang of a fertility vehicle. Thank heavens it didn’t sink this time.
At the end of our conversation, the woman who wanted to hire me held out her hand and asked me to pass some baby vibes her way. I don’t believe in that baby dust hooey but I extended my pinky finger and gave her a pinky good luck shake. I wished her all the luck in the world on her journey. I hope she finds what will work best for her, physically, emotionally and spiritually soon.
I hope that for everyone.
A few of the women in this circle knew of my struggles to start a family.
I kept this pregnancy under wraps from most of them. I just didn’t want to write those emails if it didn’t work out. This past trip, however, their genuine joy over my obvious belly was a wonderful thing to see.
Except for one woman. I met her last year. Over the phone. She wanted to hire me for a great job in Colorado. She wanted things to move fast, explaining that she just really needed a break from the pace she was keeping.
I knew from a colleague that this woman had struggled with miscarriages and a failed IVF. She is a few years older than me. We are similar in that we believed wholeheartedly that we could easily start families in our late-30’s only after netting the grad degree, the spouse, the house and paying it all off with a management-level position. (Suckers).
In one of our final conversations last fall, she had all but hired me and bought our plane tickets to Colorado when I put on the brakes.
"The truth is, I’m a stirrup queen," I admitted over the phone, "And I don’t think I can fairly commit the time and energy you need for this position right now because I’m struggling to start a family."
With that, we launched into an hour-long discussion about our fertility struggles.
She admitted that she had scheduled IVF #2 for the fall and wanted to reduce the stress and the level of hours she was keeping before embarking on round 2. She cautioned me not to wait to try IVF and even offered up a referral to her RE in the Denver-area.
It was the strangest and most satisfying interview I’ve ever had. It was also the first time I publicly put my personal life before my work. I declined the offer. A few weeks later I found out I was pregnant with Missy.
Flash forward to January. I would see her face-to-face at an event where it would be too difficult to dodge each other. I hoped that she, too, would be pregnant.
I knew her cautious and detached "congratulations" all too well as she stared at me in disbelief. Had the shoe been on the other foot, I know I would have behaved somewhat similarly. I felt so bad. I wanted to give her a hug. And apologize for getting pregnant when she had not.
After a bit, she warmed up and then peppered me with questions. What had I done? Had I used acupuncture? Herbs? A traditional Chinese medicine diet?
When asked, I’ve always been open about my journey. But this conversation really forced me to think about and articulate why this time might have been different from the others. Aside from whatever mystical connection to the universe or God’s "Plan" or whatever, what had I done or not done to contribute to this pregnancy’s success?
In a nutshell:
Yoga. Each of my BFPs was preceded by a spate of dedicated yoga practice. Even after "experts" told me that Ashtanga was contributing to my lack of progesterone issues, I never got pregnant when I wasn’t practicing Ashtanga yoga regularly.
Progesterone Supplements. Even with Missy, who by all accounts is healthy, I had falling progesterone levels. My thoughts on low progesterone and pregnancy are so long-winded that I will save it for a separate post, but I firmly believe that the three suppositories a day saved this pregnancy.
Diet. I did follow a TCM yang-deficiency diet for several months before this pregnancy. And after I got pregnant and was weaned off progesterone, I nearly ate a pint of ice cream to make up for it all.
Chinese Herbs. I ditched using these 2 months before becoming pregnant this time. I think they were hampering my emotional state.
Acupuncture. I ditched this 2 months before becoming pregnant this time. However, I did resume acupuncture for recurrent pregnancy loss right when I found out I was pregnant and continued weekly treatments until the end of my first trimester.
Work stress. While I don’t advocate quitting one’s job if you truly love it, but it is pretty ironic that we achieved a successful pregnancy on the first cycle where I wasn’t imbibing in a daily dose of sadness and stress as my company prepared to move to another state.
Letting Go. Yeah right. Someone with the blog moniker "Ms. Planner" can never just let go. But I had resigned myself that this was our last month of trying before moving on to IVF or adoption. We would never have timed sex again, I promised us.
Clear Blue Easy Fertility Monitor. Fuck those OPKs and obsessing if I was one of those women who ovulated 12 hours or 48 hours post-positive stick. I brought out the big guns and discovered that instead of being a CD 13 & 14 girl, I’m a CD 14 & 15 girl. Now that I think about it, we always got pregnant if we timed things for the evening of CD14 instead of morning. I never was a morning person anyway.
That is my journey. But everyone’s journey is different and uniquely their own. I borrowed a little from my intuition, a little from Western medicine, a little from Eastern medicine, a little psychotherapy. And crafted my own little Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang of a fertility vehicle. Thank heavens it didn’t sink this time.
At the end of our conversation, the woman who wanted to hire me held out her hand and asked me to pass some baby vibes her way. I don’t believe in that baby dust hooey but I extended my pinky finger and gave her a pinky good luck shake. I wished her all the luck in the world on her journey. I hope she finds what will work best for her, physically, emotionally and spiritually soon.
I hope that for everyone.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Blog you very much
JJ at Reproductive Jeans had just the best idea to post a shout-out to the blogs that inspired you to start yours.
I exactly remember the day I found Stirrup Queens a few weeks after my first miscarriage last November and clicked on a few blogs and started reading. I would read someone's blog from start to finish in one sitting. Before then, I had only heard about blogs on NPR. Here are a few I connected with immediately, sustained me through the dark days and inspired me to begin my own.
So blog you, ladies. Blog you very much.
Apron Strings. Known then as The Oneliner, Christina was (still is) funny and honest. At the time she was still trying to figure out why the basic baby making business wasn't happening for her. In her, I saw another professional woman - similar to myself - struggling. She honestly wrote about ovulation sex fights and being happy one day and beyond sad the next. About being dedicated to her career but wanting (and deserving) so much more. I knew exactly what she was going through. And she made me feel not so alone. I will cry tears of joy the day that Christina becomes someone's mom.
My Dear Watson. Infertility can be such a sad journey. But Watson got sassy with infertility and made it her bitch. She used self-deprecating humor and her terrific writing skills to make it seem not so sad. Each post was a big middle finger in the face of infertility. And then pregnancy. Now I can't wait to see what she writes about motherhood.
Sticky Bun. Have you ever read someone else's post and thought, "that person has been inside my head!" Nearly every one of Sticky's posts were like reading a page from my diary. If we didn't live on opposite sides of the country, I am sure we'd be dragging our husbands to dinner parties together. From hyphenated last names to miscarriages to a strained relationship with the religion in which we were raised, Sticky and I have so much in common. And when our paths were different, Sticky's posts always gracefully reminded me of what the other side might be dealing with.
With much love and thanks to you each.
I exactly remember the day I found Stirrup Queens a few weeks after my first miscarriage last November and clicked on a few blogs and started reading. I would read someone's blog from start to finish in one sitting. Before then, I had only heard about blogs on NPR. Here are a few I connected with immediately, sustained me through the dark days and inspired me to begin my own.
So blog you, ladies. Blog you very much.
Apron Strings. Known then as The Oneliner, Christina was (still is) funny and honest. At the time she was still trying to figure out why the basic baby making business wasn't happening for her. In her, I saw another professional woman - similar to myself - struggling. She honestly wrote about ovulation sex fights and being happy one day and beyond sad the next. About being dedicated to her career but wanting (and deserving) so much more. I knew exactly what she was going through. And she made me feel not so alone. I will cry tears of joy the day that Christina becomes someone's mom.
My Dear Watson. Infertility can be such a sad journey. But Watson got sassy with infertility and made it her bitch. She used self-deprecating humor and her terrific writing skills to make it seem not so sad. Each post was a big middle finger in the face of infertility. And then pregnancy. Now I can't wait to see what she writes about motherhood.
Sticky Bun. Have you ever read someone else's post and thought, "that person has been inside my head!" Nearly every one of Sticky's posts were like reading a page from my diary. If we didn't live on opposite sides of the country, I am sure we'd be dragging our husbands to dinner parties together. From hyphenated last names to miscarriages to a strained relationship with the religion in which we were raised, Sticky and I have so much in common. And when our paths were different, Sticky's posts always gracefully reminded me of what the other side might be dealing with.
With much love and thanks to you each.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
How?
How can I nicely tell my friend to take me off her email list of her exciting pregnancy news? Yes, the same one who spam emailed her 9-week sonogram picture to a dist list of friends & family has recently emailed news announcing she has a daughter in utero to the aforementioned list. I should point out that this friend has no idea I am pregnant. As far as she knows, I am the same person who has had two miscarriages - and nothing more - since TTC a year-and-a-half ago.
How can I nicely tell my other friend that I really enjoy our chances to get together and talk over coffee, but why does she always have to bring her 6-month old? I feel she only plans things with me when her husband is out of town and she therefore brings her son along. This was all but confirmed last weekend when she canceled last minute because her son was sick. And her husband was out of town.
How can I nicely change my attitude so I can accept that my friends lives have changed. That while we may have meant something to each other when we were ensconced in grad school and the years pre-husband-and-family immediately after, that perhaps we don't mean that much to each other now.
Because, in my view, if we did, I would make mental adjustments to embrace and empathize with what they have going on in their lives. And they would do the same in consideration of me.
How can I nicely tell my other friend that I really enjoy our chances to get together and talk over coffee, but why does she always have to bring her 6-month old? I feel she only plans things with me when her husband is out of town and she therefore brings her son along. This was all but confirmed last weekend when she canceled last minute because her son was sick. And her husband was out of town.
How can I nicely change my attitude so I can accept that my friends lives have changed. That while we may have meant something to each other when we were ensconced in grad school and the years pre-husband-and-family immediately after, that perhaps we don't mean that much to each other now.
Because, in my view, if we did, I would make mental adjustments to embrace and empathize with what they have going on in their lives. And they would do the same in consideration of me.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Vote!
Hopefully you voted today if you live in the U.S.
Today means that there is officially only one year left in the presidential administration of He-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless-on-this-Blog. Thankfully it is almost over.
Even if you don't live in the U.S., you, too, can vote today. Click here to vote for Stirrup Queens as the best medical-related blog. Having one of our own win this award would really shine the spotlight on the issue of infertility. You know, experts estimate that within a few years infertility will affect 1 in 8 couples. That puts the pervasiveness of infertility in the ranks with breast cancer.
Plus, Mel - quite simply - rocks. She's Jewish, but I'm calling her Saint Mel. Because finding Stirrup Queens literally saved my soul in the darkest days after my first miscarriage. Please go vote for her!
Today means that there is officially only one year left in the presidential administration of He-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless-on-this-Blog. Thankfully it is almost over.
Even if you don't live in the U.S., you, too, can vote today. Click here to vote for Stirrup Queens as the best medical-related blog. Having one of our own win this award would really shine the spotlight on the issue of infertility. You know, experts estimate that within a few years infertility will affect 1 in 8 couples. That puts the pervasiveness of infertility in the ranks with breast cancer.
Plus, Mel - quite simply - rocks. She's Jewish, but I'm calling her Saint Mel. Because finding Stirrup Queens literally saved my soul in the darkest days after my first miscarriage. Please go vote for her!
Monday, September 17, 2007
Book Tour # 6: Love & Other Impossible Pursuits
Hot freakin’ damn! It is my first Stirrup Queens book club. Many, many thanks to Mel at Stirrup Queens & Sperm Palace Jesters for organizing the book club.
The book for this tour was Love and Other Impossible Pursuits by Ayelet Waldeman. I was so happy to read something other than an infertility or miscarriage self help book, that I read Love in less than two days. Below are my answers to some of the thoughtful questions the blogsphere posted about the book.
First a message from our main sponsor:
Hop along to another stop on this blog tour by visiting the main list at http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/. You can also sign up for the next book on this online book club: Happiness Sold Separately by Lolly Winston (with author participation!).
And now back to another episode of Ms. Planner tries to find ways to talk about herself:
Question #1. Throughout the book my feelings towards Emilia were conflicted. If you felt that way too, why did you also feel that way?
When I first began reading Love and Other Impossible Pursuits I felt so sorry for Emilia. No one understood her; for me, even her husband didn’t support her when her stepson, William, babbled about putting the baby’s belongings on eBay. I had so much sympathy for her that I wanted to spend the afternoon holed up in her apartment with her, bemoaning how no one understood what a loss like this does to a woman.
By the Walk to Remember, my response to Emilia had changed. It seemed like her sadness had turned to rage. And she did not know how to handle it, so she lashed out at everyone else whether they deserved it or not. If you think about it, Carolyn (the ex wife) had every reason to despise Emila for the situation that she had a large role in creating. And I especially thought the way Emilia treated her mother – the one person who it seemed was always on her side – was most rude. Emilia thought her suffering gave her carte blanche to be a complete bitch.
Toward the end of the book, I was back on Emilia’s side. I think she was very fearful that being a caring stepmother to William was her "consolation prize" if she couldn’t have Isabel. And she didn’t want something to replace her being a mother to Isabel. In the end, facing this fear allowed her to focus on being what others in her life – mainly her husband and her stepson – needed her to be: an engaged stepmother. I think that new focus helped her disengage from her own grief.
Her transformation made me reflect on my own myopic grief over my recurrent miscarriages. Here's the part where I get to talk about myself. I had let myself wallow in my sadness so much that I began to act like a spoiled child. I cried if others (namely my husband) didn’t understand me. I felt the world "owed" me something. I didn’t like what I was becoming.
Strange, but being a third-party objective observer of Emilia’s fictional character ultimately helped me reflect more closely on my own behavior.
Question #4: Emilia often describes the intense physical and emotional connection between she and Jack. She often refers to him as her bashert. But after the loss of Isabel, and Emilia's spiral into solitary despair, that connection is damaged. This alteration is noted by Emilia when Jack declines her first offer of physical intimacy since their daughter's death. She becomes "terrified that I have become like Carolyn, cold to sex, unmoved by my husband, uninterested in the passion that once meant everything to me." What sort of relationship do you have with your significant other? Do you feel he/she is your bashert? What effect has IF/loss had on your emotional and/or physical relationship?
My husband’s blog nickname is Cowboy. We’ve been together for almost eight years. Married for almost three. I knew he was going to be the man I would spend the rest of my life with from the moment I met him, which was in a strip bar. See this post for the real story.
I call him Cowboy (and have long before I started to blog) because he truly is the essence of a cowboy. If we lived in an earlier time, I have no doubt that he would have been a real life cowboy out on the lonely range with a horse, a dog, a few changes of clothes and a good book. As such, he has a steeled composure that rarely lets you see how deep he can hurt. And this was hard for me to understand after my miscarriages. He never grieved openly so I thought he didn’t care. Of course he cared that his wife was hurting, but I thought he didn’t care that we lost our "children." And I held that against him for a long time, which didn’t cultivate a healing atmosphere in our marriage.
We started going to couples therapy after the second miscarriage. Actually, it was originally supposed to be therapy for me and he was going along to be supportive. In the end, we both were talking. And, more importantly, listening. Having that safe, neutral ground to talk through the pain, fear and hurt helped us find our deep connection again. Seeing a shrink together remains the best money we’ve spent during our TTC journey.
Physically I had a difficult time after both miscarriages. I am one of those lucky gals who has never had trouble with the ‘Big O’ in a physical relationship. After my first miscarriage, I suddenly found myself not being able to, well, you know. It was disconcerting for both of us. Me, I seriously thought my bajingo was broken in some way. And I think Cowboy took it a little personally. Like he wasn’t performing up to par. After a session of discussing this issue with the aforementioned therapist, I realized that I was approaching intimacy with an I-just-need-to-get-pregnant-again-right-away-and-this-will-be-fixed mentality, which was hindering my ability to, well, you know. Additionally, this approach put way to much pressure on Cowboy and he would withdraw from any intimacy. It was a vicious cycle of very little and not-so-fulfilling sex. I am so thankful we’ve gotten past that. By the way, discussing your inability to orgasm with a therapist in front of your husband makes the embarrassment of getting dildo-cammed on CD3 look like a cakewalk.
Question #8: For those of us who have suffered loss, the Walk to Remember maybe raises some feelings and issues. Emilia meets another woman who lost a child after birth. "It's a terrible way to lose them. However it happens is bad, but SIDS is the worst. I mean, of course I'd think that, but I know I'm right." Emilia feels out of place amongst the women mourning early losses "I realize, with a vertigo that almost knocks me off my feet, that this woman has named her miscarriages...I know it is unfair to feel disgust...I have no right to condemn her just because she has given her miscarriages middle names." Is there a hierarchy of loss? Do we share more than divides us? Can we get support and solace from others regardless of their exact experience... or do we seek out those whose experience most closely parallels our own?
I hated it I read Emilia’s thoughts on this subject. I physically felt myself get warm with rage. And then I was embarassed because I gave a first name to my first miscarriage. For a long time, I considered a loss a loss. It didn’t matter if the baby was 8 weeks in utero or a few days old. And then I started reading Niobe's Dead Baby Jokes blog. And my perception began to change.
I also recently attended an exhibit called BodyWorld’s that solidified my new way of thinking about miscarriage versus stillbirth versus infant death. It features a gallery of human fetuses from 5 weeks to 40 weeks. The exhibit is as tasteful and scientific as such a thing can be. Imagine a semi-circle of glass displays, serenely and elegantly lit. Focusing on each embryo, fetus and baby as if it were the most precious gem. And it really, really hit me that my losses, which were in the first few glass displays, were truly so much less in the scope than those in the last few display casements. It really put it in perspective for me.
So while there is a hierarchy, what we share, however, is the loss of the promise of a future with our child(ren). I will never get to hear my 8 week old in utero "child" laugh in some future day the same way that Emilia will never hear 2-day-old Isabel laugh. The same way that someone who hasn’t achieved pregnancy yet hasn’t had the chance to feel the light that fills you when you see the first positive pregnancy test. I believe strongly we can find common ground in those kinds of losses.
As my blog muse, Watson, once commented: "…either way, the journey is NO fun." Amen to that, sister.
The book for this tour was Love and Other Impossible Pursuits by Ayelet Waldeman. I was so happy to read something other than an infertility or miscarriage self help book, that I read Love in less than two days. Below are my answers to some of the thoughtful questions the blogsphere posted about the book.
First a message from our main sponsor:
Hop along to another stop on this blog tour by visiting the main list at http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/. You can also sign up for the next book on this online book club: Happiness Sold Separately by Lolly Winston (with author participation!).
And now back to another episode of Ms. Planner tries to find ways to talk about herself:
Question #1. Throughout the book my feelings towards Emilia were conflicted. If you felt that way too, why did you also feel that way?
When I first began reading Love and Other Impossible Pursuits I felt so sorry for Emilia. No one understood her; for me, even her husband didn’t support her when her stepson, William, babbled about putting the baby’s belongings on eBay. I had so much sympathy for her that I wanted to spend the afternoon holed up in her apartment with her, bemoaning how no one understood what a loss like this does to a woman.
By the Walk to Remember, my response to Emilia had changed. It seemed like her sadness had turned to rage. And she did not know how to handle it, so she lashed out at everyone else whether they deserved it or not. If you think about it, Carolyn (the ex wife) had every reason to despise Emila for the situation that she had a large role in creating. And I especially thought the way Emilia treated her mother – the one person who it seemed was always on her side – was most rude. Emilia thought her suffering gave her carte blanche to be a complete bitch.
Toward the end of the book, I was back on Emilia’s side. I think she was very fearful that being a caring stepmother to William was her "consolation prize" if she couldn’t have Isabel. And she didn’t want something to replace her being a mother to Isabel. In the end, facing this fear allowed her to focus on being what others in her life – mainly her husband and her stepson – needed her to be: an engaged stepmother. I think that new focus helped her disengage from her own grief.
Her transformation made me reflect on my own myopic grief over my recurrent miscarriages. Here's the part where I get to talk about myself. I had let myself wallow in my sadness so much that I began to act like a spoiled child. I cried if others (namely my husband) didn’t understand me. I felt the world "owed" me something. I didn’t like what I was becoming.
Strange, but being a third-party objective observer of Emilia’s fictional character ultimately helped me reflect more closely on my own behavior.
Question #4: Emilia often describes the intense physical and emotional connection between she and Jack. She often refers to him as her bashert. But after the loss of Isabel, and Emilia's spiral into solitary despair, that connection is damaged. This alteration is noted by Emilia when Jack declines her first offer of physical intimacy since their daughter's death. She becomes "terrified that I have become like Carolyn, cold to sex, unmoved by my husband, uninterested in the passion that once meant everything to me." What sort of relationship do you have with your significant other? Do you feel he/she is your bashert? What effect has IF/loss had on your emotional and/or physical relationship?
My husband’s blog nickname is Cowboy. We’ve been together for almost eight years. Married for almost three. I knew he was going to be the man I would spend the rest of my life with from the moment I met him, which was in a strip bar. See this post for the real story.
I call him Cowboy (and have long before I started to blog) because he truly is the essence of a cowboy. If we lived in an earlier time, I have no doubt that he would have been a real life cowboy out on the lonely range with a horse, a dog, a few changes of clothes and a good book. As such, he has a steeled composure that rarely lets you see how deep he can hurt. And this was hard for me to understand after my miscarriages. He never grieved openly so I thought he didn’t care. Of course he cared that his wife was hurting, but I thought he didn’t care that we lost our "children." And I held that against him for a long time, which didn’t cultivate a healing atmosphere in our marriage.
We started going to couples therapy after the second miscarriage. Actually, it was originally supposed to be therapy for me and he was going along to be supportive. In the end, we both were talking. And, more importantly, listening. Having that safe, neutral ground to talk through the pain, fear and hurt helped us find our deep connection again. Seeing a shrink together remains the best money we’ve spent during our TTC journey.
Physically I had a difficult time after both miscarriages. I am one of those lucky gals who has never had trouble with the ‘Big O’ in a physical relationship. After my first miscarriage, I suddenly found myself not being able to, well, you know. It was disconcerting for both of us. Me, I seriously thought my bajingo was broken in some way. And I think Cowboy took it a little personally. Like he wasn’t performing up to par. After a session of discussing this issue with the aforementioned therapist, I realized that I was approaching intimacy with an I-just-need-to-get-pregnant-again-right-away-and-this-will-be-fixed mentality, which was hindering my ability to, well, you know. Additionally, this approach put way to much pressure on Cowboy and he would withdraw from any intimacy. It was a vicious cycle of very little and not-so-fulfilling sex. I am so thankful we’ve gotten past that. By the way, discussing your inability to orgasm with a therapist in front of your husband makes the embarrassment of getting dildo-cammed on CD3 look like a cakewalk.
Question #8: For those of us who have suffered loss, the Walk to Remember maybe raises some feelings and issues. Emilia meets another woman who lost a child after birth. "It's a terrible way to lose them. However it happens is bad, but SIDS is the worst. I mean, of course I'd think that, but I know I'm right." Emilia feels out of place amongst the women mourning early losses "I realize, with a vertigo that almost knocks me off my feet, that this woman has named her miscarriages...I know it is unfair to feel disgust...I have no right to condemn her just because she has given her miscarriages middle names." Is there a hierarchy of loss? Do we share more than divides us? Can we get support and solace from others regardless of their exact experience... or do we seek out those whose experience most closely parallels our own?
I hated it I read Emilia’s thoughts on this subject. I physically felt myself get warm with rage. And then I was embarassed because I gave a first name to my first miscarriage. For a long time, I considered a loss a loss. It didn’t matter if the baby was 8 weeks in utero or a few days old. And then I started reading Niobe's Dead Baby Jokes blog. And my perception began to change.
I also recently attended an exhibit called BodyWorld’s that solidified my new way of thinking about miscarriage versus stillbirth versus infant death. It features a gallery of human fetuses from 5 weeks to 40 weeks. The exhibit is as tasteful and scientific as such a thing can be. Imagine a semi-circle of glass displays, serenely and elegantly lit. Focusing on each embryo, fetus and baby as if it were the most precious gem. And it really, really hit me that my losses, which were in the first few glass displays, were truly so much less in the scope than those in the last few display casements. It really put it in perspective for me.
So while there is a hierarchy, what we share, however, is the loss of the promise of a future with our child(ren). I will never get to hear my 8 week old in utero "child" laugh in some future day the same way that Emilia will never hear 2-day-old Isabel laugh. The same way that someone who hasn’t achieved pregnancy yet hasn’t had the chance to feel the light that fills you when you see the first positive pregnancy test. I believe strongly we can find common ground in those kinds of losses.
As my blog muse, Watson, once commented: "…either way, the journey is NO fun." Amen to that, sister.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Lessons Learned
What has your journey through infertility taught you? A degree from Dr. Google, notwithstanding.
I’m compiling a list. And while I won’t copy anyone’s answers, I often read things in these blogs that really get me thinking.
What I have learned so far:
Patience – I don’t have much of this but I like to think that I have acquired more patience over the past year. It is not like I am totally comfortable with the constant waiting, but I have become less insane over how long this is taking.
Humility – When I was pregnant the first time I went to the store to buy an assortment of interesting cheeses for a luncheon. The nice, older lady at the counter asked me what kind at which I announced, "no soft cheeses please because two of us are pregnant." She gave me this shocked look (actually, she looked a little sad). Today I think about this and feel like an asshat for feeling so self-important because maybe she struggled with infertility and my cocky statement took her back to that dark place. Anyway, just an example, but I feel so very humble about my body these days.
Sensitivity – I still slip here, but I believe I am more sensitive to the personal plights of others. I try not to say or do things that will hurt other’s feelings. Like gushing about my husband when I might be talking about someone who doesn’t have a special partner and wants one desperately or misses one dearly.
Being okay in an uncomfortable position – Infertility hurts. Wanting to hold your baby and not being able to hurts like hell. My first instincts with this uncomfortable-ness was either fight (I would get mad at something else) or flight (that’s it, I’m never having a baby and I better get over it – even if I wasn’t being honest with myself). There are yoga positions that challenge me this way – I am bound up and feel constricted in a not-so-good way -- so I don’t know if this skill is fertility related or acquired from yoga. But I feel less anxious about handling things that are uncomfortable.
Expecting everything to go according to plan is both futile and grandiose (and not in a good way) – I don’t think I need to elaborate here. The title of this blog says it all.
Here is a short list of things I am hoping to learn more of:
Forgiveness – forgive others because they get pregnant easily or say hurtful things without meaning to hurt me. Forgive Cowboy and me because we waited to start a family. Forgive myself for the financial and emotional burden that this desire has placed on us. Forgive my body when it fails cycle after cycle.
Staying positive no matter what life throws your way – This is my hardest lesson of all. I feel like a shell of the person I was a mere 12 months ago. I wish I could say that this struggle and heartbreak has demonstrated how resilient and tough I am, but I can’t. Some days the constant losing battle really gets to me and I know I am battling the foggy darkness. I see people who deal with much more and they seem so positive. I admire them and want to be like them. Today, I am not.
I know there is stuff that I have missed. Am taking any and all suggestions from you as jumping off points to think about what is learned from this journey so far.
Thanks in advance. The deep thoughtfulness of this community is truly amazing.
I’m compiling a list. And while I won’t copy anyone’s answers, I often read things in these blogs that really get me thinking.
What I have learned so far:
Patience – I don’t have much of this but I like to think that I have acquired more patience over the past year. It is not like I am totally comfortable with the constant waiting, but I have become less insane over how long this is taking.
Humility – When I was pregnant the first time I went to the store to buy an assortment of interesting cheeses for a luncheon. The nice, older lady at the counter asked me what kind at which I announced, "no soft cheeses please because two of us are pregnant." She gave me this shocked look (actually, she looked a little sad). Today I think about this and feel like an asshat for feeling so self-important because maybe she struggled with infertility and my cocky statement took her back to that dark place. Anyway, just an example, but I feel so very humble about my body these days.
Sensitivity – I still slip here, but I believe I am more sensitive to the personal plights of others. I try not to say or do things that will hurt other’s feelings. Like gushing about my husband when I might be talking about someone who doesn’t have a special partner and wants one desperately or misses one dearly.
Being okay in an uncomfortable position – Infertility hurts. Wanting to hold your baby and not being able to hurts like hell. My first instincts with this uncomfortable-ness was either fight (I would get mad at something else) or flight (that’s it, I’m never having a baby and I better get over it – even if I wasn’t being honest with myself). There are yoga positions that challenge me this way – I am bound up and feel constricted in a not-so-good way -- so I don’t know if this skill is fertility related or acquired from yoga. But I feel less anxious about handling things that are uncomfortable.
Expecting everything to go according to plan is both futile and grandiose (and not in a good way) – I don’t think I need to elaborate here. The title of this blog says it all.
Here is a short list of things I am hoping to learn more of:
Forgiveness – forgive others because they get pregnant easily or say hurtful things without meaning to hurt me. Forgive Cowboy and me because we waited to start a family. Forgive myself for the financial and emotional burden that this desire has placed on us. Forgive my body when it fails cycle after cycle.
Staying positive no matter what life throws your way – This is my hardest lesson of all. I feel like a shell of the person I was a mere 12 months ago. I wish I could say that this struggle and heartbreak has demonstrated how resilient and tough I am, but I can’t. Some days the constant losing battle really gets to me and I know I am battling the foggy darkness. I see people who deal with much more and they seem so positive. I admire them and want to be like them. Today, I am not.
I know there is stuff that I have missed. Am taking any and all suggestions from you as jumping off points to think about what is learned from this journey so far.
Thanks in advance. The deep thoughtfulness of this community is truly amazing.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Many thanks to Liz at Missed Conceptions and Amy at So When Will You Have Kids? - 2 of my favorite daily reads - for nominating That Was the Plan for a Rockin' Girl Blogger award.
I always wanted to rock. Seriously. My younger sister was the cool, alternative rocker girl in high school. If we didn't live on different continents, I would still be stealing her clothes.
But - at least for today - I rock!
And so do you:
Von at Murphy is a Bastard. Von has an amazing gift for articulating the emotional rollercoaster of IF via a carefully-cultivated collection of photos, poems and quotes that always give me a moment of peace and comfort.
Erin at The Vicious Cycle of Cycles. Erin is hilarious. Her posts and comments have an amazing combination of thoughtful honesty and delightfully-wicked humor. She once singlehandedly brought me out of a funk by commenting that has there is child out there somewhere for parents who met in a strip club.
The Oneliner was one of the first bloggers I read when I found this wonderful invention that is infertility blogs. Her posts are smart and sassy - just like I imagine she is. Though she is a veteran now, she started her blog kind of early in her journey, hence her archives are a must-read for anyone just starting to deal with this.
Carrie at Precious Little... poignantly writes about how she is emotionally dealing with her infertility struggle. Her posts reveal the awesome sense of fear we often face along with the quiet courage that helps us pick up the pieces and keeping going on with life and TTC.
Sarah & Andy at Sarah & Andy Go to Kaz*. After a failed IVF and lots of years struggling to start a family, this couple is currently experiencing insta-family as they internationally adopt a young brother and sister. Their blog gives me hope and a glimpse of what may be our path to parenthood.
*Unfortunately, their blog is password protected for the moment as they are - at this very minute - going through the final phases of their adoption and need to keep things on the down low as they go through the final waiting period. But, trust me, their blog rocks.
There are many other blogs that I love to read and connect with on a daily basis. If I leave comments on your blog, then you know who you are. I also noticed that some of you also received RGBs from other readers so I wanted to spread the love.
For those of you duly mentioned, go forth with your rockin-ness and nominate others. Because it feels kind of good to get a nod.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Oh No She Di' int
We went to the wedding of one of my very good friends from b-school and his darling bride on Saturday. It was a mini-reunion of sorts, as he is the kind of person who stayed in touch with a good many of our classmates. I, for one, was ready to celebrate.
Hair done up, channeling Audrey as Holly in the famous movie featuring an equally famous jewelry store, I was determined to make this a night of happiness. I feel so full of sadness and disappointment lately. I didn’t want to bring my baggage into the wonderful night of a lovely couple and their lovely ceremony. I was so over myself.
The wedding was a bit modern with a cocktail reception pre-func before exchanging vows. My second good friend in our triumvirate gal pals was there, too. She started TTC in July. In fact, I gave her my copy of How to Get Pregnant Fast (Naturally) a few months ago thinking I was being so helpful and all.
I haven’t seen her since a coffee date in July when she announced that she was, at that very moment, ovulating and that they had done the deed three days in a row. Ick.
I froze then and I froze again last night when she was freaking sipping on water at the cocktail reception.
My pregnancy radar went off.
Her excuse was that she didn’t want to drink while they were still trying. I get that. I didn’t drink for months when we first started TTC. I told her was sorry that it didn’t work out for her this time and by the look on her face after I made the comment, I just knew.
I get it. It is your pregnancy. Own it. Don’t let others force you to take it in a direction you aren’t ready to go. Like telling someone you are pregnant in the middle of a wedding reception filled with dozens of classmates.
So I would have left it at that. But then she had to say that she was “a little bit past the two week wait and I’ll leave it at that.” And if she has any announcements to make, she will be ready to do so when we have lunch at the third friend’s house in early October.
I went numb.
So much for my glorious night.
It wasn’t so much that I am bummed she is pregnant. I was just so hurt that she wanted me to play a part in her fantasy pregnancy announcement to her dearest friends. Over an intimate lunch. Just the three of us. And the other friend’s new baby. And the stupid smile plastered on my face hiding the bitter lump in my throat.
What disturbs me, too, is that this is the friend with whom I have shared some of my deepest, saddest thoughts with after both of my miscarriages. She’s been there for me. I should be happy for her. What’s wrong with me? I wouldn’t wish infertility on anyone, but why can’t I get it out of my brain that this is so not fair. Why can’t I be the one blessed with a baby? Why is it easy for virtually everyone around me? Just not me.
She says she has prayed for me and thinks of me often. And I believe her. But if she thinks I am going to be party to a public announcement after which I will wind up sobbing in my car on the way home, then once again, I’ve been let down by yet another friend who claims to understand what I am going through. But who very clearly doesn’t.
I HATE what not being able to have a baby has done to me. I absolutely hate the mixture of emotions that course through my soul at this moment. I can barely write this without seething at myself.
Then I detach. I go through the motions. I smile brightly through the wedding reception. I give her a hug. But I can barely look her in the eye. And I hate myself for that, too.
I have never been so thankful that I splurged on an up do for the occasion because at least I had fantastic looking hair that night.
The next day Cowboy asks me if I am upset. I lie and say no. Later on, he asks me if her husband is going to quit his job and stay home to take care of the baby. I say I don’t know.
The sad thing is that she is my friend but I don’t care to know. Because I just can’t care right now.
I’m afraid of the thoughts I might uncover if I think about it too much.
Hair done up, channeling Audrey as Holly in the famous movie featuring an equally famous jewelry store, I was determined to make this a night of happiness. I feel so full of sadness and disappointment lately. I didn’t want to bring my baggage into the wonderful night of a lovely couple and their lovely ceremony. I was so over myself.
The wedding was a bit modern with a cocktail reception pre-func before exchanging vows. My second good friend in our triumvirate gal pals was there, too. She started TTC in July. In fact, I gave her my copy of How to Get Pregnant Fast (Naturally) a few months ago thinking I was being so helpful and all.
I haven’t seen her since a coffee date in July when she announced that she was, at that very moment, ovulating and that they had done the deed three days in a row. Ick.
I froze then and I froze again last night when she was freaking sipping on water at the cocktail reception.
My pregnancy radar went off.
Her excuse was that she didn’t want to drink while they were still trying. I get that. I didn’t drink for months when we first started TTC. I told her was sorry that it didn’t work out for her this time and by the look on her face after I made the comment, I just knew.
I get it. It is your pregnancy. Own it. Don’t let others force you to take it in a direction you aren’t ready to go. Like telling someone you are pregnant in the middle of a wedding reception filled with dozens of classmates.
So I would have left it at that. But then she had to say that she was “a little bit past the two week wait and I’ll leave it at that.” And if she has any announcements to make, she will be ready to do so when we have lunch at the third friend’s house in early October.
I went numb.
So much for my glorious night.
It wasn’t so much that I am bummed she is pregnant. I was just so hurt that she wanted me to play a part in her fantasy pregnancy announcement to her dearest friends. Over an intimate lunch. Just the three of us. And the other friend’s new baby. And the stupid smile plastered on my face hiding the bitter lump in my throat.
What disturbs me, too, is that this is the friend with whom I have shared some of my deepest, saddest thoughts with after both of my miscarriages. She’s been there for me. I should be happy for her. What’s wrong with me? I wouldn’t wish infertility on anyone, but why can’t I get it out of my brain that this is so not fair. Why can’t I be the one blessed with a baby? Why is it easy for virtually everyone around me? Just not me.
She says she has prayed for me and thinks of me often. And I believe her. But if she thinks I am going to be party to a public announcement after which I will wind up sobbing in my car on the way home, then once again, I’ve been let down by yet another friend who claims to understand what I am going through. But who very clearly doesn’t.
I HATE what not being able to have a baby has done to me. I absolutely hate the mixture of emotions that course through my soul at this moment. I can barely write this without seething at myself.
Then I detach. I go through the motions. I smile brightly through the wedding reception. I give her a hug. But I can barely look her in the eye. And I hate myself for that, too.
I have never been so thankful that I splurged on an up do for the occasion because at least I had fantastic looking hair that night.
The next day Cowboy asks me if I am upset. I lie and say no. Later on, he asks me if her husband is going to quit his job and stay home to take care of the baby. I say I don’t know.
The sad thing is that she is my friend but I don’t care to know. Because I just can’t care right now.
I’m afraid of the thoughts I might uncover if I think about it too much.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
8 Random Things About Me
Way back in the day, the wonderfully eloquent Sticky Bun asked me to write 8 things about myself. My apologies to Mrs. Sticky for taking so darn long to get around to posting it. By the way, check out the recent news on her blog about inflatable storks. Hilarious.
Since nothing is going on - I am not pregnant and am just waiting around for AF's arrival after stopping progesterone - it is time to post my 8 things. By the way, did anyone else have to wait, like, for-ev-ah, before AF came after a cycle replete with Clomid and progesterone? This is crazy. I'm on CD30. I never make it to 30. Thank goodness I took the beta because I would have spent a small fortune on HPTs by now.
So to amuse myself while I wait. Below are 8 Random Things About Me:
#1. I have a specific way that I fold towels (in thirds). I will completely unfold and re-fold a stack of towels if my husband folds them differently. I seriously can’t stand it when towels in my house are not folded correctly. So much so that I took out all the towel bars out of our bathrooms and put in hooks instead. This way, I feel way less OCD about my towels.
#2. I am a sucker for jackets that have three-quarter length sleeves.
#3. I don’t care what they’re doing in Hollywood, I am completely old school when it comes to rules about fashion. As an example, I cannot wear white pants before Memorial Day or after Labor Day. I cannot wear open-toe shoes before the first official day of spring. (Not that this matters in the PNW because it is rainy and cold until the first official day of summer). My boots get packed away after Easter and don’t see the light of day until the first official day of fall. Patent leather is for summer and the winter holidays. Only.
#4. I use to suck my thumb at night until I was in the third grade. I don’t know why I had this habit so long or what made me quit. Once, when I was an adult and was really sad, I tried to give it a go again to see if it would soothe me, but it just felt really, really bizarre (I think I was drunk when I attempted this). Go figure, but I never had to have braces because of all that thumb sucking.
#5. I have a photographic memory. Unfortunately it doesn’t work 100% of the time. But I can often close my eyes and exactly see words, charts, etc., from an actual document or spreadsheet I have reviewed. This skill SAVED MY ASS in business school.
#6. I still have a crush on Simon LeBon from Duran Duran. I know, suuuper lame. Once, about 20 years past the purchase of my first Duran Duran cassette tape and when I was happily living in sin with Cowboy, I saw a VH-1 special on Duran Duran. They interviewed Simon’s now wife – some beautiful gorgeous model – and I was seriously jealous of her because she was married to him. I think this is oddly funny because I never was nor am I attracted to men who look like Mr. LeBon in real life. But, c'mon, a guy barefoot in a suit on a sailboat...how can you resist?
#7. I have a very dirty sense of humor and can curse like a sailor when the situation calls for it. Some of my favorites include "c*cks*cker" and "rat f*ck." I work with mostly guys in my line of business and they’ve referred to me as the "walking HR infraction" on a couple of occasions. Not that this matters where I work. At my first sales meeting, my company hosted a big to-do for a guy who was leaving the company that included a video featuring several clips of pole dancers from the "She’s My Cherry Pie" video. All of the guys (seriously a room full of guys) stood up and cheered when it came on.
#8. I do not drink soda pop. Even when I was little and having a Coke was a big treat, I never cared for the stuff. The closest I come to imbibing soda is mixing Maker’s Mark with ginger ale. Since I can count on one hand the number of times I have had hard alcohol in the past year, my soda intake is pretty much nil.
# # #
OK, so probably everyone in blog land has already done this because I waited so long to turn in my assignment. However, my nominees to share a list of 8 Random Things About Myself are:
Von @ Murphy is a Bastard - when you return from your holiday.
Megan @ Exile in Kidville - only when you feel like you are up to it, k?
Caro @ Third Time Lucky - when your in-laws leave.
Anns @ A Brief History of You - while you are waiting for your RPL tests to come in.
Apologies if you've already done this. You don't have to do it again. But I will be checking up on you! ; )
Since nothing is going on - I am not pregnant and am just waiting around for AF's arrival after stopping progesterone - it is time to post my 8 things. By the way, did anyone else have to wait, like, for-ev-ah, before AF came after a cycle replete with Clomid and progesterone? This is crazy. I'm on CD30. I never make it to 30. Thank goodness I took the beta because I would have spent a small fortune on HPTs by now.
So to amuse myself while I wait. Below are 8 Random Things About Me:
#1. I have a specific way that I fold towels (in thirds). I will completely unfold and re-fold a stack of towels if my husband folds them differently. I seriously can’t stand it when towels in my house are not folded correctly. So much so that I took out all the towel bars out of our bathrooms and put in hooks instead. This way, I feel way less OCD about my towels.
#2. I am a sucker for jackets that have three-quarter length sleeves.
#3. I don’t care what they’re doing in Hollywood, I am completely old school when it comes to rules about fashion. As an example, I cannot wear white pants before Memorial Day or after Labor Day. I cannot wear open-toe shoes before the first official day of spring. (Not that this matters in the PNW because it is rainy and cold until the first official day of summer). My boots get packed away after Easter and don’t see the light of day until the first official day of fall. Patent leather is for summer and the winter holidays. Only.
#4. I use to suck my thumb at night until I was in the third grade. I don’t know why I had this habit so long or what made me quit. Once, when I was an adult and was really sad, I tried to give it a go again to see if it would soothe me, but it just felt really, really bizarre (I think I was drunk when I attempted this). Go figure, but I never had to have braces because of all that thumb sucking.
#5. I have a photographic memory. Unfortunately it doesn’t work 100% of the time. But I can often close my eyes and exactly see words, charts, etc., from an actual document or spreadsheet I have reviewed. This skill SAVED MY ASS in business school.
#6. I still have a crush on Simon LeBon from Duran Duran. I know, suuuper lame. Once, about 20 years past the purchase of my first Duran Duran cassette tape and when I was happily living in sin with Cowboy, I saw a VH-1 special on Duran Duran. They interviewed Simon’s now wife – some beautiful gorgeous model – and I was seriously jealous of her because she was married to him. I think this is oddly funny because I never was nor am I attracted to men who look like Mr. LeBon in real life. But, c'mon, a guy barefoot in a suit on a sailboat...how can you resist?
#7. I have a very dirty sense of humor and can curse like a sailor when the situation calls for it. Some of my favorites include "c*cks*cker" and "rat f*ck." I work with mostly guys in my line of business and they’ve referred to me as the "walking HR infraction" on a couple of occasions. Not that this matters where I work. At my first sales meeting, my company hosted a big to-do for a guy who was leaving the company that included a video featuring several clips of pole dancers from the "She’s My Cherry Pie" video. All of the guys (seriously a room full of guys) stood up and cheered when it came on.
#8. I do not drink soda pop. Even when I was little and having a Coke was a big treat, I never cared for the stuff. The closest I come to imbibing soda is mixing Maker’s Mark with ginger ale. Since I can count on one hand the number of times I have had hard alcohol in the past year, my soda intake is pretty much nil.
# # #
OK, so probably everyone in blog land has already done this because I waited so long to turn in my assignment. However, my nominees to share a list of 8 Random Things About Myself are:
Von @ Murphy is a Bastard - when you return from your holiday.
Megan @ Exile in Kidville - only when you feel like you are up to it, k?
Caro @ Third Time Lucky - when your in-laws leave.
Anns @ A Brief History of You - while you are waiting for your RPL tests to come in.
Apologies if you've already done this. You don't have to do it again. But I will be checking up on you! ; )
Thursday, May 31, 2007
This Weekend. . .
...I am hosting a baby shower.
Yeah, am I fucking nuts or what?
The quick story behind the baby shower is that I agreed to host it while in the happy throes of pregnancy #1 last fall. I have two very good girlfriends from MBA school. We all landed in Portland and see each other often. Complete coincidence but we all ended up getting married in the same year. And now we’re all in baby mode. So we agreed during lunch one day that we would take turns hosting each other’s baby showers.
This was before I became "the-friend-with-the-fertility-problems."
This was before I even imagined I would miscarry once. Not to mention twice.
By the time it came around to actually planning the shower, it was too late to back out.
Part of me wanted to challenge myself with this. "You are strong-like-bull, Ms. Planner" I told myself. In some weird way, graciously hosting this shower and being genuinely happy for the new mother would prove to myself that I have this whole fertility thing in rational perspective. That I haven’t let it rule my life. If I wasn’t struggling with this, I would still host a shower, right?
The other part of me desperately doesn’t want to become THAT friend. You know, the one who you dread calling with your happy pregnancy news. The one who everyone tiptoes around at social events. The one who everyone asks curiously, "so how are you doing?" Mostly because I’m not there yet. Seriously, with the exception of my friend who went off the pill in January, doesn’t chart, barely knows when she ovulates and is now pregnant with twins due on my due date, I have not been upset when others have shared their good news. In fact, I swear that my heart has nothing but happiness for them. In short, to me, turning down my obligation to host this shower would be an admission that I had in fact become THAT friend.
But really, I must admit that the major reason I didn’t think hosting this shower would be a problem was because I honestly thought I had a great shot of being pregnant for it. Probably a good thing I didn’t bet money on it.
That last part of my rationale makes me sad.
If it is any consolation, the new mom (this is a post-baby shower, so the new little guy will be co-guest-of-honor) also suffered a miscarriage with her first baby and then took almost a year to get pregnant again. And she is a year older than I am. So I have her story, which gives me hope.
And, Ms. Planner loves nothing more than to throw a party. What with all of the menu planning, decorating, baking, cleaning! Goodness! I’ll be in heaven.
So I have made a conscious decision to be as positive as possible about this shower. But, just in case, I am planning a little pick-me-up for the day after: a pedicure and a look-better-naked-exfoliation treatment. I know, probably waaaay TMI, but it is finally shorts weather up here and my skin has been under wraps of jeans, wool and cashmere since September.
Will update after the shower.
Wish me luck.
Yeah, am I fucking nuts or what?
The quick story behind the baby shower is that I agreed to host it while in the happy throes of pregnancy #1 last fall. I have two very good girlfriends from MBA school. We all landed in Portland and see each other often. Complete coincidence but we all ended up getting married in the same year. And now we’re all in baby mode. So we agreed during lunch one day that we would take turns hosting each other’s baby showers.
This was before I became "the-friend-with-the-fertility-problems."
This was before I even imagined I would miscarry once. Not to mention twice.
By the time it came around to actually planning the shower, it was too late to back out.
Part of me wanted to challenge myself with this. "You are strong-like-bull, Ms. Planner" I told myself. In some weird way, graciously hosting this shower and being genuinely happy for the new mother would prove to myself that I have this whole fertility thing in rational perspective. That I haven’t let it rule my life. If I wasn’t struggling with this, I would still host a shower, right?
The other part of me desperately doesn’t want to become THAT friend. You know, the one who you dread calling with your happy pregnancy news. The one who everyone tiptoes around at social events. The one who everyone asks curiously, "so how are you doing?" Mostly because I’m not there yet. Seriously, with the exception of my friend who went off the pill in January, doesn’t chart, barely knows when she ovulates and is now pregnant with twins due on my due date, I have not been upset when others have shared their good news. In fact, I swear that my heart has nothing but happiness for them. In short, to me, turning down my obligation to host this shower would be an admission that I had in fact become THAT friend.
But really, I must admit that the major reason I didn’t think hosting this shower would be a problem was because I honestly thought I had a great shot of being pregnant for it. Probably a good thing I didn’t bet money on it.
That last part of my rationale makes me sad.
If it is any consolation, the new mom (this is a post-baby shower, so the new little guy will be co-guest-of-honor) also suffered a miscarriage with her first baby and then took almost a year to get pregnant again. And she is a year older than I am. So I have her story, which gives me hope.
And, Ms. Planner loves nothing more than to throw a party. What with all of the menu planning, decorating, baking, cleaning! Goodness! I’ll be in heaven.
So I have made a conscious decision to be as positive as possible about this shower. But, just in case, I am planning a little pick-me-up for the day after: a pedicure and a look-better-naked-exfoliation treatment. I know, probably waaaay TMI, but it is finally shorts weather up here and my skin has been under wraps of jeans, wool and cashmere since September.
Will update after the shower.
Wish me luck.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Self Help Books
I am reading Dr. Alice Domar's book, Conquering Infertility. I really like the book, except the part about not exercising for three months. I tried not exercising for a month. I got pregnant and promptly miscarried. And all I was left with was rage because I didn't have an outlet for it. So I can tell you from experience that the whole don't exercise thing is a sham. Doesn't matter what you do as long as it's in moderation.
I was super bummed, however, when I reached for Conquering Infertility this weekend and couldn't find a chapter on this subject:
"Coping-when-your-good-friend-who-you-see-nearly-every week-calls-you-on-Saturday-and-tells-you-she-is-pregnant. With-twins. And-her-due-date-is-yours*."
*Had you not miscarried a month ago.
For serious. Someone is surely testing me with this one. I guess I deserve this after refusing to even look at the dueling pregnant ladies who crashed yoga class in matching outfits last week.
I cried. Of course. I do not begrudge my friend her good fortune. She has a 2-year-old. And wasn't even sure she wanted a second child. But her husband did. Anyway, she gets overwhelmed with the 2-year-old so the twin thing is not going to be easy on her.
But I cried mostly because it is just so ironically cruel. Honestly. Ever time I look at her, I will be reminded of baby #2 and what we would have been doing together at that time.
I can't & don't want this to affect my friendship with her. She truly is a very good friend. And I am so appreciative that she called to tell me even though she hasn't announced the pregnacy to anyone else yet.
But, COME ON, universe. If I pass this test do you promise we'll get a baby?
Sigh.
I was super bummed, however, when I reached for Conquering Infertility this weekend and couldn't find a chapter on this subject:
"Coping-when-your-good-friend-who-you-see-nearly-every week-calls-you-on-Saturday-and-tells-you-she-is-pregnant. With-twins. And-her-due-date-is-yours*."
*Had you not miscarried a month ago.
For serious. Someone is surely testing me with this one. I guess I deserve this after refusing to even look at the dueling pregnant ladies who crashed yoga class in matching outfits last week.
I cried. Of course. I do not begrudge my friend her good fortune. She has a 2-year-old. And wasn't even sure she wanted a second child. But her husband did. Anyway, she gets overwhelmed with the 2-year-old so the twin thing is not going to be easy on her.
But I cried mostly because it is just so ironically cruel. Honestly. Ever time I look at her, I will be reminded of baby #2 and what we would have been doing together at that time.
I can't & don't want this to affect my friendship with her. She truly is a very good friend. And I am so appreciative that she called to tell me even though she hasn't announced the pregnacy to anyone else yet.
But, COME ON, universe. If I pass this test do you promise we'll get a baby?
Sigh.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Forward Progress (Kind of)
First, I want to thank everyone very much for their supportive comments and kind thoughts posted and sent my way. I am really grateful for each of you.
I often feel this journey is 3 steps forward, 1 step back. The past couple days – commencing with Mother’s Day (go freakin’ figure!) – have been real wringers for me. Dark and stormy patches all around.
While this journaling is certainly therapeutic, I’m seeing the real power of blogland: connectedness. It’s easy to spin downward into a spiral by only focusing on the bad stuff in my neck of the woods. But how long can I wallow in my own self-pity, negative thoughts & resulting behavior when there are wishes, prayers and positive vibes that need sending to women struggling with IF across country and continent? It’s not like I’m all Pollyanna and shit, but focusing my thoughts on this community truly helped me put my own issues and concerns into a more rational perspective. And contributed to helping me pull out of the nosedive I was in.
So the dark and stormy patches have moved on (for now). I need to learn that they will certainly return and prepare for what I can do to cope when they do.
I also made an appointment with the infertility shrink. It is next week. I will definitely update on That Was the Plan after our first meeting.
More news: As if my body needed to provide ANY more convincing that I’m not really in charge here, I am on CD 28. Now, I’m a 26 day gal. And when you’re trying to get pregnant and take a month off, it seriously fucks with your mind if you are late.
“I can’t be pregnant.”
“Maybe you ovulated late and the FIRST s3x you had in a month did the trick?”
“Seriously, YOU are not pregnant. Do not EVEN think about using that HPT you have stashed in a secret hiding place.”
“But my temps are way up and, well, um, it is the last day of the 2ww…”
This is what goes through my head when I’m getting ready in front of the mirror in our bath.
Granted, my temps are up but they’ve been so wacky this cycle, which commenced with miscarriage #2. I did not use OPKs, but I have been charting other signs, too, so I am pretty sure we dodged the good days.
Bummer #1 is that AF’s delayed flight into town means no ovulation s3x over an alcohol-soaked (but caffeine free) Memorial Day weekend, which just happens to be Cowboy’s birthday.
Bummer #2 is that AF’s delay also delays that start of my testing for whatever the hell is wrong with me. It's super fun to be a holding pattern!
Never thought I’d been wishing for AF to show up after a two week wait. Yep, it is fo’ sure. Oh, I get it alright:
I am so not in control here.
I often feel this journey is 3 steps forward, 1 step back. The past couple days – commencing with Mother’s Day (go freakin’ figure!) – have been real wringers for me. Dark and stormy patches all around.
While this journaling is certainly therapeutic, I’m seeing the real power of blogland: connectedness. It’s easy to spin downward into a spiral by only focusing on the bad stuff in my neck of the woods. But how long can I wallow in my own self-pity, negative thoughts & resulting behavior when there are wishes, prayers and positive vibes that need sending to women struggling with IF across country and continent? It’s not like I’m all Pollyanna and shit, but focusing my thoughts on this community truly helped me put my own issues and concerns into a more rational perspective. And contributed to helping me pull out of the nosedive I was in.
So the dark and stormy patches have moved on (for now). I need to learn that they will certainly return and prepare for what I can do to cope when they do.
I also made an appointment with the infertility shrink. It is next week. I will definitely update on That Was the Plan after our first meeting.
More news: As if my body needed to provide ANY more convincing that I’m not really in charge here, I am on CD 28. Now, I’m a 26 day gal. And when you’re trying to get pregnant and take a month off, it seriously fucks with your mind if you are late.
“I can’t be pregnant.”
“Maybe you ovulated late and the FIRST s3x you had in a month did the trick?”
“Seriously, YOU are not pregnant. Do not EVEN think about using that HPT you have stashed in a secret hiding place.”
“But my temps are way up and, well, um, it is the last day of the 2ww…”
This is what goes through my head when I’m getting ready in front of the mirror in our bath.
Granted, my temps are up but they’ve been so wacky this cycle, which commenced with miscarriage #2. I did not use OPKs, but I have been charting other signs, too, so I am pretty sure we dodged the good days.
Bummer #1 is that AF’s delayed flight into town means no ovulation s3x over an alcohol-soaked (but caffeine free) Memorial Day weekend, which just happens to be Cowboy’s birthday.
Bummer #2 is that AF’s delay also delays that start of my testing for whatever the hell is wrong with me. It's super fun to be a holding pattern!
Never thought I’d been wishing for AF to show up after a two week wait. Yep, it is fo’ sure. Oh, I get it alright:
I am so not in control here.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Thinking Blogger: Tag! You're it.
Last week Sticky Bun graciously awarded me a Thinking Blogger dealio for my post about our male partners who are riding the fertility roller coaster with us. I’ve been reading Sticky Bun’s thought-provoking and eloquently written blog since last December so I was totally honored. Also, I was nominated by My Dear Watson who I liken to the most popular girl in school because not only is she a great writer but is now knocked up with twins – hence, the "popular" part (naughty girl! just kiddin').
The Thinking Blogger award stipulates that nominees respond by nominating 5 other blogs that really make them think.
If I have nominated you (and assuming you’ve read my blog), you are supposed to nominate 5 other blogs that make you think. It’s kind of like a modern day chain mail. But, hey, didn’t it make you feel cool and all when you were 8 and got a chain mail letter? No? Okay, maybe I was just a pathetic little nerd.
In a nutshell, here are mine:
(1) Thalia’s Infertility Journey: Hopefully More Comedy than Tragedy. Anyone who had a category titled, “Fuckwittage” has my vote. Fo’ shizzle. Thalia’s posts make me think because one day she will write the most educated, scientific post filled with tons of information. (I have become more educated from Thalia’s posts than I have been from my OB and RE combined). The next day, she’ll completely let loose with a major “What the fuck, people!” tirade. I feel a lot like Thalia’s posts these days: calm and reasoning one day; WTF! the next. By the way, after 3 failed IVF’s and, I think, an FET, Thalia got pregnant NATURALLY 10 days before her 40th birthday. And if that’s not a little comedic in the world of IF, I don’t know what is. She doesn’t know me, but I am delurking myself because I am so happy for her and thank her for her educated posts.
(2) A Brief History of You. I love Anns’ posts because even though it sounds like we are very different people, we are going through very similar heartbreaking circumstances at exactly similar times. Only she approached the whole TTC again with more gusto than I thought was possible in those dark days post m/c #1. Check out her post as she gets prepped for the Sperm Meets Egg Plan – a web page which is urban legend in the TTC world. You gotta admit it, her enthusiasm and youthful vigor are infectious. Next time you’re dreading sex-on-demand, read this post from Anns and get stoked to get busy.
(3) Into the Rabbit Hole. Alice at Into the Rabbit Hole has had three recurrent miscarriages. In one year. Life is so effing not fair sometimes. Alice is currently going to a clinic that specializes in recurrent miscarriage. I wish we had something like that in my city. She’s about a month ahead of me in my quest to find out what is going on with my body so I find her posts incredibly helpful and practical. I truly hope she finds answers soon so she can get on with the gettin’ on.
(4) Erin at the Vicious Cycle of Cycles was also nominated by Sticky Bun. And, don’t know if this is against the rules or not, but I nominate her, too. Erin is hi-LAR-ious. Check out this post about dealing with friends who announce they are trying to conceive. I think we all have these conflicting feelings from time to time. Our friends announce they are thinking about starting a family. We want to be good friends and give them the scoop about what to expect when you’re trying to expect (you know, entry level stuff like OPKs). A little part of us completely fears that we will be so jealous if they hit it out of the park on the first try. And sometimes we just want to spare them our trials and tribulations. I have a few good friends who are starting on the fertility path, which really should be an exciting time. I don’t want my misfortune to ruin it for them. And, even though I know they are the best of friends who will support me no matter what news I bear, I often am sensitive about sharing too much bad spew with them.
(5) Finally, I nominate Von at Murphy is a Bastard (great blog name). Von started her blog the day before I did, but she has been through way more than I on her fertility quest. Seriously, please go to Von’s blog and lend this sister some support. Plus, she has amazingly beautiful photographs and lovely quotes that provide for a calm moment of reflection. Which I for sure need from time to time. Well, actually, a lot of the time. Thanks for this great quote, Von.
Until next time...yours in kissing the plan good-bye,
Ms. Planner
The Thinking Blogger award stipulates that nominees respond by nominating 5 other blogs that really make them think.
If I have nominated you (and assuming you’ve read my blog), you are supposed to nominate 5 other blogs that make you think. It’s kind of like a modern day chain mail. But, hey, didn’t it make you feel cool and all when you were 8 and got a chain mail letter? No? Okay, maybe I was just a pathetic little nerd.
In a nutshell, here are mine:
(1) Thalia’s Infertility Journey: Hopefully More Comedy than Tragedy. Anyone who had a category titled, “Fuckwittage” has my vote. Fo’ shizzle. Thalia’s posts make me think because one day she will write the most educated, scientific post filled with tons of information. (I have become more educated from Thalia’s posts than I have been from my OB and RE combined). The next day, she’ll completely let loose with a major “What the fuck, people!” tirade. I feel a lot like Thalia’s posts these days: calm and reasoning one day; WTF! the next. By the way, after 3 failed IVF’s and, I think, an FET, Thalia got pregnant NATURALLY 10 days before her 40th birthday. And if that’s not a little comedic in the world of IF, I don’t know what is. She doesn’t know me, but I am delurking myself because I am so happy for her and thank her for her educated posts.
(2) A Brief History of You. I love Anns’ posts because even though it sounds like we are very different people, we are going through very similar heartbreaking circumstances at exactly similar times. Only she approached the whole TTC again with more gusto than I thought was possible in those dark days post m/c #1. Check out her post as she gets prepped for the Sperm Meets Egg Plan – a web page which is urban legend in the TTC world. You gotta admit it, her enthusiasm and youthful vigor are infectious. Next time you’re dreading sex-on-demand, read this post from Anns and get stoked to get busy.
(3) Into the Rabbit Hole. Alice at Into the Rabbit Hole has had three recurrent miscarriages. In one year. Life is so effing not fair sometimes. Alice is currently going to a clinic that specializes in recurrent miscarriage. I wish we had something like that in my city. She’s about a month ahead of me in my quest to find out what is going on with my body so I find her posts incredibly helpful and practical. I truly hope she finds answers soon so she can get on with the gettin’ on.
(4) Erin at the Vicious Cycle of Cycles was also nominated by Sticky Bun. And, don’t know if this is against the rules or not, but I nominate her, too. Erin is hi-LAR-ious. Check out this post about dealing with friends who announce they are trying to conceive. I think we all have these conflicting feelings from time to time. Our friends announce they are thinking about starting a family. We want to be good friends and give them the scoop about what to expect when you’re trying to expect (you know, entry level stuff like OPKs). A little part of us completely fears that we will be so jealous if they hit it out of the park on the first try. And sometimes we just want to spare them our trials and tribulations. I have a few good friends who are starting on the fertility path, which really should be an exciting time. I don’t want my misfortune to ruin it for them. And, even though I know they are the best of friends who will support me no matter what news I bear, I often am sensitive about sharing too much bad spew with them.
(5) Finally, I nominate Von at Murphy is a Bastard (great blog name). Von started her blog the day before I did, but she has been through way more than I on her fertility quest. Seriously, please go to Von’s blog and lend this sister some support. Plus, she has amazingly beautiful photographs and lovely quotes that provide for a calm moment of reflection. Which I for sure need from time to time. Well, actually, a lot of the time. Thanks for this great quote, Von.
Until next time...yours in kissing the plan good-bye,
Ms. Planner
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