Haven't posted in a few days because, well, I've been ok. Things are really ok. For the moment. The day things fell a bit apart earlier this week, I was finishing up a book (nonfiction) in which a family attempts to live life as if they were dirt farmers in the year 1900. They are attempting to get pregnant for the second time, but without any modern help – no OPKs, no HPTs, etc. They complain a bit because it seems to be taking them a while.
I finished the book on the train on the way home, the same day I finally admitted this wasn’t our month. And at the end, they talk about how they’re expecting in 6 months. I wanted to cry. I almost did cry. L gave me a huge hug when I got to his office, and I suddenly felt so much better, like he was finally taking me seriously. I didn’t tell him about the book, though.
Today is Halloween, and I can drink if I want. I don’t know if I will. I can also go in the hot tub if I want, but hot tubs aren’t really my thing (I mean, propriety calls for me to SHAVE – I don’t want to do that!). I just want to hang out with good friends and relax. I’m getting too old for parties, getting drunk, going in hot tubs. Perfect time to start a family, right? =)
So, anyway, feeling good. Not that I’m feeling positive about this month or anything. No, I’ve lost the ability to feel positive this far in advance. I don’t hold out hope things will work out this month. I’m pretty much expecting that in about two months we’ll make another appointment with the doctor, or at least call and ask what our options are. Which is fine. I’ll be ok with it. I think. I hope.
The great thing is, this is what I want. I don’t want to be happy, or accepting, or anything like that. I’m just not thinking about it, and I’m content with the rest of my life, and I know I’ll worry about this in the future (probably in two weeks, knowing me), but for now, I feel more ignorant. Which is really nice.
I’m working on my mosaic a lot, which is helping. It’s very distracting, and I’m enjoying it a lot. I think it’s beautiful, and I’m so happy with how it’s turning out. It’s nice to have a few projects that I’m really excited about at a time like this. It’s nice to feel like there are other things in my life that are creative and allow me some self-expression. I think I need some more of that.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Stop whining!
I'm driving myself crazy these days, obsessing, being paranoid, not able to think about anything else. Part of it is work being so crazy yet boring. I haven't had much time to myself, but since work these days is so time-consuming but leaves me plenty of time with my thoughts, I find myself in the uncomfortable position of having to listen to myself think constantly.
I had a rather baby-ful weekend, between the pics of my new darling niece Alana, and the baby shower for a friend that I went to on Saturday. I think I’ve mentioned that I hate baby showers, for reasons not really related to my current situation.
One of my current coping mechanisms is to think about the fun things that I do right now that I couldn’t do if I were pregnant. A sort of silver lining to a cloud that is, admittedly, not all that dark yet (insert the usual “I could be pregnant right now!” thought that is inevitably going through my brain).
Whenever I have a glass of wine, I think “ha! I’m enjoying this because I’m NOT PREGNANT! Yay!” Or when I’m climbing, and thinking about how I’ll lose all the strength and skill I’ve been building up over the last few years. Except – well, that’s really about it. The two things I do on a regular basis that I shouldn’t do anymore after (if) I ever get pregnant.
Except that I probably will enjoy a sip of wine every now and then. And I’ll probably climb for the first few months, albeit carefully and not anywhere where I’ll risk falling. I’ll probably still hike, and ride my beautiful bike. I may not ski (I have no idea if that’s safe), but I don’t ski all that often anyway. I’ll certainly still swim, if it’s the right season.
But still, it’s a sort of consolation prize, to try to think of reasons to be happy with the way things are right now. Very zen, and very not me. Which is probably why I can’t really lie to myself and why I’m never fooled even when I do.
I had a rather baby-ful weekend, between the pics of my new darling niece Alana, and the baby shower for a friend that I went to on Saturday. I think I’ve mentioned that I hate baby showers, for reasons not really related to my current situation.
One of my current coping mechanisms is to think about the fun things that I do right now that I couldn’t do if I were pregnant. A sort of silver lining to a cloud that is, admittedly, not all that dark yet (insert the usual “I could be pregnant right now!” thought that is inevitably going through my brain).
Whenever I have a glass of wine, I think “ha! I’m enjoying this because I’m NOT PREGNANT! Yay!” Or when I’m climbing, and thinking about how I’ll lose all the strength and skill I’ve been building up over the last few years. Except – well, that’s really about it. The two things I do on a regular basis that I shouldn’t do anymore after (if) I ever get pregnant.
Except that I probably will enjoy a sip of wine every now and then. And I’ll probably climb for the first few months, albeit carefully and not anywhere where I’ll risk falling. I’ll probably still hike, and ride my beautiful bike. I may not ski (I have no idea if that’s safe), but I don’t ski all that often anyway. I’ll certainly still swim, if it’s the right season.
But still, it’s a sort of consolation prize, to try to think of reasons to be happy with the way things are right now. Very zen, and very not me. Which is probably why I can’t really lie to myself and why I’m never fooled even when I do.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Circles
One of the most frustrating things about all this is the thought that every time I get my period, it's only two weeks until we can try again. And then only two weeks until we find out if it worked. The hard thing is that it's so gradual, there's never one moment when you suddenly say, well, obviously this isn't working. It's always, well, let's just try again in two weeks.
When we finally got some tests done, it was right around when I ovulated. I didn't go get the bloodwork done for a week after that, and then I didn't get the results for several MORE days after that. If I actually had been pregnant, it would have seemed ridiculous to have done all thoses tests, only to find out I had been pregnant all along. Of course, it didn't work out that way. But still.
So here I am, anxiously waiting to see what will happen next. I wish I was like my husband. He never gets excited, never gets overly emotional, is always eternally patient. It must be a great way to be, but I wouldn't know. Today is Saturday, I'm expecting AF on Thursday or Friday. I'm going to try not to get my hopes up until Monday, and if there's still no AF, then I'll have a hard time waiting much longer. Ideally, I don't want to even think about doing a HPT until the middle of the following week.
But even thinking these things now means I have my hopes up. Which sucks. I wish I could just be happy about this whole process. Or zen. Just calm and indifferent, and ok with anything. I'd like to just happily expect my period, and be pleasantly surprised when (and if) it finally never arrives. For me, not getting my hopes up means being negative, pessimistic, and frankly miserable to be around. I can't seem to find a happy medium.
I just got a pic of my new niece. And in two hours, I'm off to a friend's baby shower. Sigh. For now, it doesn't depress me much, it just makes me hopeful and excited, because I still have a lot of hope that soon, it'll be me.
When we finally got some tests done, it was right around when I ovulated. I didn't go get the bloodwork done for a week after that, and then I didn't get the results for several MORE days after that. If I actually had been pregnant, it would have seemed ridiculous to have done all thoses tests, only to find out I had been pregnant all along. Of course, it didn't work out that way. But still.
So here I am, anxiously waiting to see what will happen next. I wish I was like my husband. He never gets excited, never gets overly emotional, is always eternally patient. It must be a great way to be, but I wouldn't know. Today is Saturday, I'm expecting AF on Thursday or Friday. I'm going to try not to get my hopes up until Monday, and if there's still no AF, then I'll have a hard time waiting much longer. Ideally, I don't want to even think about doing a HPT until the middle of the following week.
But even thinking these things now means I have my hopes up. Which sucks. I wish I could just be happy about this whole process. Or zen. Just calm and indifferent, and ok with anything. I'd like to just happily expect my period, and be pleasantly surprised when (and if) it finally never arrives. For me, not getting my hopes up means being negative, pessimistic, and frankly miserable to be around. I can't seem to find a happy medium.
I just got a pic of my new niece. And in two hours, I'm off to a friend's baby shower. Sigh. For now, it doesn't depress me much, it just makes me hopeful and excited, because I still have a lot of hope that soon, it'll be me.
Friday, October 24, 2008
First post
Maybe this blog will only last a few weeks. Maybe I'm jinxing myself by saying that. Maybe I'm being stupid and paranoid and spastic about this whole thing. Anyway, this is a tough time in my life in many ways. I want to start my family. I want to have a baby. It doesn’t help that it seems like everyone around me is having babies (my brother and sister-in-law’s daughter was born yesterday, I’ve been invited to two baby showers in the last few weeks, and two other friends are pregnant).
To go back to the beginning, L and I decided to start trying for a baby last December, 2007. I was stupid, as I usually am, and expected immediate results and instant gratification. L was patient, as he usually is, and slightly patronizing and told me that it was completely ridiculous to get upset after one month of trying. And he was right.
The problem is, I had started reading some infertility blogs (which I stumbled across for completely unrelated reasons), and they were making me a bit nervous. I had absolutely no reason to think I was infertile, but for some reason I just had a nervous feeling about it. I did a bit of research, obsessed for a while, searched the internet constantly, but managed not to get upset after a few months passed and still nothing happened.
My OB/GYN told me it was too early to worry around month 5. The few friends I told about our tries and lack of success so far were dismissive of my worries. I was still optimistic, slightly wary, but relatively calm.
Then after about 6 or 7 months, I started getting upset again. My sister-in-law was pregnant. My other sister-in-law (L’s brother’s wife) gave birth to their second (our second niece on that side). Several friends and relatives gave birth or announced new pregnancies. Why wasn’t it working for me?
We finally told my in-laws that we had been trying. They seemed almost embarrassed, but generally supportive. I didn’t tell my mom yet, but when I did, she was ok, too. I was a little surprised.
Around month 8, we started using OPKs, which were a pain. I hated having to remember to withhold liquids for a few hours, doing it at a rather inconvenient time EVERY DAY (often in the work bathroom in the afternoon, not very private), and having to be even more precise with timing.
Then my period was late. I started getting excited the day it was due. The next day, I was even more excited. The NEXT day, I went out for dessert with a friend and told her about how excited I was. I imagined going to buy a HPT after work! But then I got home and saw the blood. It sucked. I got upset. L got upset with me for being upset. He tried to talk me into going to see the doctor again – it was now 8-9 months of TTC. I was hesitant, and I didn’t know why, but off we went.
We did all the preliminary tests – u/s, blood and hormone tests for me, SA for him. Everything normal. That was great! Or was it? In some ways, I wished they would find something wrong, something simple, something easily fixable that would explain our problems. Something treatable. The doctor was even slightly dismissive, saying “you could even be pregnant right now!”
I wasn’t, of course. I went through the same horribly emotion-wrecking experience of being three days late, but AF arrived like a fashionable celebrity, knowing everyone was waiting for her. More OPKs. And here we are. One week to go until AF, on Halloween. I don’t remember the official date we started TTC, but we’re heading up to one year pretty quickly now.
One year means an official declaration of IF.
The thought of that … well. It makes me want to cry.
So that’s the beginning. And that’s where we are now. It helps just to write this all down. Maybe this will help me from getting my hopes up. I doubt it. I know myself too well for that. My hopes are always getting up and I am forever disappointed. Somehow, things seem all the more desperate because I want to avoid reaching that one-year mark.
I just don’t want to go there.
To go back to the beginning, L and I decided to start trying for a baby last December, 2007. I was stupid, as I usually am, and expected immediate results and instant gratification. L was patient, as he usually is, and slightly patronizing and told me that it was completely ridiculous to get upset after one month of trying. And he was right.
The problem is, I had started reading some infertility blogs (which I stumbled across for completely unrelated reasons), and they were making me a bit nervous. I had absolutely no reason to think I was infertile, but for some reason I just had a nervous feeling about it. I did a bit of research, obsessed for a while, searched the internet constantly, but managed not to get upset after a few months passed and still nothing happened.
My OB/GYN told me it was too early to worry around month 5. The few friends I told about our tries and lack of success so far were dismissive of my worries. I was still optimistic, slightly wary, but relatively calm.
Then after about 6 or 7 months, I started getting upset again. My sister-in-law was pregnant. My other sister-in-law (L’s brother’s wife) gave birth to their second (our second niece on that side). Several friends and relatives gave birth or announced new pregnancies. Why wasn’t it working for me?
We finally told my in-laws that we had been trying. They seemed almost embarrassed, but generally supportive. I didn’t tell my mom yet, but when I did, she was ok, too. I was a little surprised.
Around month 8, we started using OPKs, which were a pain. I hated having to remember to withhold liquids for a few hours, doing it at a rather inconvenient time EVERY DAY (often in the work bathroom in the afternoon, not very private), and having to be even more precise with timing.
Then my period was late. I started getting excited the day it was due. The next day, I was even more excited. The NEXT day, I went out for dessert with a friend and told her about how excited I was. I imagined going to buy a HPT after work! But then I got home and saw the blood. It sucked. I got upset. L got upset with me for being upset. He tried to talk me into going to see the doctor again – it was now 8-9 months of TTC. I was hesitant, and I didn’t know why, but off we went.
We did all the preliminary tests – u/s, blood and hormone tests for me, SA for him. Everything normal. That was great! Or was it? In some ways, I wished they would find something wrong, something simple, something easily fixable that would explain our problems. Something treatable. The doctor was even slightly dismissive, saying “you could even be pregnant right now!”
I wasn’t, of course. I went through the same horribly emotion-wrecking experience of being three days late, but AF arrived like a fashionable celebrity, knowing everyone was waiting for her. More OPKs. And here we are. One week to go until AF, on Halloween. I don’t remember the official date we started TTC, but we’re heading up to one year pretty quickly now.
One year means an official declaration of IF.
The thought of that … well. It makes me want to cry.
So that’s the beginning. And that’s where we are now. It helps just to write this all down. Maybe this will help me from getting my hopes up. I doubt it. I know myself too well for that. My hopes are always getting up and I am forever disappointed. Somehow, things seem all the more desperate because I want to avoid reaching that one-year mark.
I just don’t want to go there.
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