Anonymous Comments

This post is in response to a comment I received (but will not be approving) on my previous post. If you missed the first post, be sure to read it so you know what's going on.

I had a comment posted earlier today from someone posting as Anonymous. I'll first say that I feel nothing but contempt for someone who has a smart alec remark to make but is too scared to use their real name. Secondly, in response to their comment "Well this day and time if we need and want a job bad enough we have to do what we have to do and be happy we have a job. Look at all of the people that don't have job just be happy you have one.", while I am aware that a lot of people are out of work at this time, no I absolutely should not be grateful to be asked to do something illegal that takes advantage of me, nor should I be asked to put my job before my family. This is unacceptable to ask of anyone.

This is like saying "Oh, there are lots of people who would love to be in a relationship, so you should just take your husband/partner beating you and be grateful you have a husband/partner to beat you" or "Well, there are lots of people who's children grow up to be murderers, so you should be glad you're infertile." Neither of these statements are acceptable and neither is the statement that I should be grateful for a job that abuses me.

I am grateful that in a time where our economy is as poor as it is, I do have a job. Having said that, I have a job where I was literally laughed at when I asked for a raise following the completion of my Bacherlors degree. I have a job that took away my PTO (paid time off) leave last year and didn't replace it or give anything in return. I have a job that laid 50 people off 2 weeks before Christmas (no, I wasn't one of them, but I had several friends who were). I have a job that has not given me (or anyone else for that matter) a raise in the 4 years I've worked there. I have a job that has told me my adoption is of no importance and should be put second to the job. And, now, I have a job that has asked me to work 6 hours of my own time, without pay, when it was not necessary and threatened to take my job away if I failed to do so.

No, it isn't acceptable and, no, I shouldn't just be grateful I have this job. If "Anonymous" actually thinks this is true, then "Anonymous" is someone I hope no one ever has to work for or with.

Day Thirteen - A Letter to Someone Who Has Hurt You Recently

Dear V,

You've really upset me with what you did. I don't feel I can trust you right now and I'm not really keen to continue our friendship. You said it wasn't your fault, that it was someone else's, but I have eyes. I saw what you were doing and I know what you claimed you said. It was your fault. I'm not saying the other person wasn't involved, but you knew how I felt and yet you still felt it okay to do what you did. Not cool. Not what friends do to one another. And what you said has caused a riff between me and another friend. Now that friend is avoiding me and it feels really unfair.

Not only did that incident happen, but now I have someone telling me that you're involved in things you should not be, things that are illegal! I don't want my name associated with that. How can I trust you when you do these things?!?! And, yet, you still refuse to accept any responsibility for your actions!

I think we should cool our friendship for a while. I don't think I can stomach being around you right now.

L

Some Days Are Just Better Off Slept Through

Picture the scene: I'm diligently working away at my desk when a knock comes at my door. The door is flung open by my ex-sister-in-law (who works at the same hospital as I do) who promptly announces she's going to be a nana! Her eldest daughter (half-sister to my niece Boop, but not related to me) is expecting a baby!

Terrible dream, right? In fact, it swiftly sails it's way into nightmare territory! Glad I could wake up from it....

Except, try as I might and despite pinching my arm quite severely, I didn't seem to be waking up. It took me a couple of minutes, but I realised that I wasn't waking up because I wasn't asleep. My ex-SIL actually had flung my door open to announce that her 21-year-old, unmarried, unemployed daughter was 2 months pregnant and she (ex-SIL) was incredibly happy about it and expected me to be overjoyed for her as well.

Guess what? Not so much joy coming from my corner of the room. In fact, I had to restrain myself from clobbering ex-SIL! I could understand her tactlessness had she not been aware of our TTC failure and the failure of our adoption, but she's in full possession of all the details. And, yet, there she was standing in my door and getting more angry at me by the minute for not jumping up and down in exultation.

Frankly, I wanted to slap her and her eldest daughter (come to think of it, my niece was actually not showing a lot of tact either). I can not believe that yet another unprepared youngster in my life is being blessed with a child and The Hubs and I are still struggling. It makes me so incredibly angry.

Explain to me how it is fair for my niece to become an aunt before I get the opportunity to be a mom? It's not. Not at all. It's really effing unfair.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to my room to sulk. And, despite doing so well on my diet and exercise recently, I'm having a baked potato covered in sour cream, cheese and bacon for dinner tonight. I might even have 2. I'll revert to being good tomorrow, but tonight I'm letting disappointment, depression, dispair, hopelessness, bitterness and Provera win.

A Tide of Emotions in the Face of a Friend's Pain

I'm feeling incredibly sad today. Someone I consider a good friend (although, this is more because I read her blog religiously and less because I chat with her frequently. In fact, the chatting is rare and she has her comments turned off, so I'm not even sure if she realizes I visit) is going through quite a rough time. It may be that this situation turns out wonderfully for my friend; then again, it could mean that she experiences a kind of pain that is akin to losing a part of yourself. A kind of pain I am intimately familiar with, having gone through it earlier this year.

The pain of a failed adoption is unlike any other. It's not even something that is easy to describe to someone unless they have experienced it themselves. It's not like losing a child you already have, because this child is not yet your's and therefore the people surrounding you who are removed from the situation (i.e. not the friends and family who are standing by you and feel the loss themselves) are unwilling to allow you time to grieve. They do not see it as your right. In fact, it is almost as if they are threatened that you dare feel loss over a child who was "never yours".

The pain is also unlike that of a miscarriage. Although mother's who have suffered a miscarriage also find themselves the target of such ignorant people as those indicated above who expect them not to grieve or find offense that they do, a failed adoptive mother often herself feels she has no right to grieve the loss of the child. In this situation, the fact that the child still lives, albeit with someone other than the adoptive parent - the birth parent or another adoptive parent - limits the adoptive parents own acceptance of the need to grieve. We still feel the hurt and pain, but we feel as though we should be happy! After all, the baby is thriving! It's healthy and is surrounded by people who love it! How could I be so selfish as to feel pity for myself for not being the one to parent this child?

We often don't give ourselves enough of a break to understand that we have suffered a loss. We are allowed to grieve that loss. We are allowed to feel bitter and resentful that all the hopes and dreams we put into that tiny life have been revoked due to the choice of another human. Although it may not seem fair to the birthmother, we are allowed to privately feel an ounce of anger. I'm not advocating that we say or do anything to the birth mother, but simply that we do not have to feel guilty for feeling the anger. It's natural. Over time, yes, it's possible to come to an acceptance that God had other plans, that the birthmother was entitled to enjoy her right to raise her own child. But remember that we are also humans, we mothers-who-almost-were, and that we are entitled to feel our own grief and to nurture our own hurts. We can't always be the strong one or the one others turn to when things need smoothing over or feelings need soothing. Sometimes we need to flash that bit of selfishness and tend to ourselves; just back away from life like a damaged kitten and lick our wounds. It is okay.

To wind up this post, please join me in saying a prayer for Her Womb, Our Hearts. Pray that the right decision for everyone involved will be made and that God's Will will be done. That's all J is asking for. She's such a better human than me. She's thinking more of the birthmother than herself. I was so caught up in my bitterness that I never had time for that. Please think of her during this tough, tough time.

Cross-posted with Excuse Me While I Cry and BlogHer

My Ultimate What IF

First of all, thank you so much for the kind and supportive comments you've all left for me. It means so much to me.

I'm finally getting around to posting my What IF? post for the project Mel and Resolve are hosting. I think my biggest What IF? is What if IF has changed me from the person I used to be and I'm never able to gain that person back? What if that's not a good thing?

I thought for a long time that my biggest what if would be regarding money issues and our treatment, but the more I thought about it, the more I feel that the metamorphosis I'm undergoing as a result of IF is a bigger What IF? for me. Let me explain.

I've never been what you'd call a calm or patient individual. I've always had a hot temper. However, I've always been able to control it to a point. I've never felt out of control even if it seemed to others that I may be. In the last few years, though, I've been less and less in control of my emotions. Every time I get bad news or have another disappointment in our journey, I get so angry I'm moved to tears. Now, this may not sound like it's a terrible anger - I mean tears aren't exactly threatening - but for me, it means I'm on the verge of a meltdown. I only cry when I'm extremely angry or terribly hurt or a combination of the two, which is usually the case when it comes to my fertility.

I absolutely hate the fact that I can't control my body, can't make it do what I want it to do. Always before ttc, this was expressed in my anger at my body's failure in losing weight. Then I entered the realm of babymaking and it's a whole new ballgame. It was no longer just a nuisance and irritation. It was suddenly something that really mattered, something that meant much more to me than just fitting into a smaller size jeans. I could see something that mattered so much to me floating away like a dream - so close, yet so far out of reach I'm still not sure I'll ever reach it.

With the realization that this journey would be a long - and possibly fruitless - one, the irritation I'd always felt with myself suddenly multiplied into an anger so passionate it scares me sometimes. Not only has that anger increased at my own body, but my patience with others has virtually disappeared. These days I find myself barely able to stand the company of others in my real day-to-day life, particularly those with children who've not experienced IF. In one way, I'm glad they've never had to experience this. I'm glad they've never had to wonder what they'd do if they were never given the opportunity to mother a child. However, in another way, everytime a colleague tells me the latest story of their child in a "kids-say-the-darndest-things" theme, I simply want to pick up the nearest heavy object and bash them over the head with it. Instead, I smile. I fake a laugh. I tell them how wonderful their child is and how lucky they are to have that child. And with every breath between these pointless excercises, I silently scream out. I cry in my very soul. I feel the ache, the longing and the desperation with every breath I take, in every fiber of my being. I am acutely aware of what a failure I am and how desperately I long for something I can't at the moment see ever coming to a resolution.

This anger and resentment carry over into every part of my life. I get angry with my mom, my dad, my siblings, my husband, my dogs. I daydream about simply withdrawing all the money in my bank account and disappearing somewhere to a tropical island. I would buy a small, open house there, paint the walls a clean white with a large soft bed covered in white linen. I would turn the air conditioning on, lie in that bed and drift away, never to be awaken again, simply because it would ease the agony of wanting and the vile anger that seaps through me and puts an ugly shadow over every part of my life.

I have arguments with my family, my friends, myself. I dream of how life would be better for everyone if I wasn't around, if I didn't want something I was clearly not meant to have. I think how much better off The Hubs would be if he had married someone who could fulfill their basic duty in life. I think how much better off I would be if I didn't desperately want to hold my child in my arms, if my heart didn't melt everytime I walk near the baby department in Walmart or Target. I wish it were enough for me to be an aunt, a godparent, a teacher, a nursery worker, even just someone to hold the child while the mother opened the car door or put bags into the shopping cart at the store. If the need to be a mother and watch my child grow into their own person with their own hopes, dreams, desires and faults didn't burn in my heart and stomach, if the thought I may never get that opportunity didn't force bile to rise in my throat, everyone around me - myself included - would probably be much better off. Unfortunately, those feelings are there. The continuing time that passes has not succeeded in decreasing my need, but only making it more and more a thing I can't live without.

It is because of these feelings that I truly fear what lasting impact infertility will have on me. Will I still be this bitter person who feels numb and has to conciously stop myself from gagging every time I see a pregnant woman? Will I still have to suppress the desire to kick at my dad's cats every time one of them is knocked up yet again? Or will I move on from this? Will I be a mother my children can be proud of, a wife my husband can look at and remember why he married me and be proud to be seen with me and tell people "yes, that's my wife. Aren't you jealous?"? Will I be a person my parents and siblings would choose to be around?

For a moment, I'll try to think of the positive: what IF I become a mother very soon and am the best damn mother a child could ever hope to have, so good in fact that my children roll their eyes and talk about how "uncool" I am as a mother because I bake cookies with them, have family game night, talk about their problems with them and offer real, honest-to-goodness helpful answers all the while secretly thanking their lucky stars they have me and not someone who never fought for them but simply won in the surprise pregnancy lotto? What IF infertility is actually the turning point in what makes me the greatest person I can be?

It's National Infertility Awareness Week. Visit www.resolve.org/takecharge to find out how you can get involved. Need more information on infertility? Visit Resolve to get answers to your questions. And don't forget to drop by and see the other What IF's everyone else is pondering.

A Kick In The Teeth

I'm sorry I still don't have the April Secret Pal revelations ready. I'll try to have it ready soon.

I've made an awful discovery. In anticipation of my appointments with the RE over the next couple of weeks, I called the office of the surgeon who performed my surgery 3 years ago to request the medical records so I could carry those with me to the appointments. For those who don't know, I went in for a routine gallbladder removal 3 years ago, only to have the surgeon find an enormous cyst on my right ovary. They removed more than 2 litres of fluid from the cyst before removing it from my ovary. After the surgery, I told the surgeon The Hubs and I were trying to start a family and asked if the surgery would have a negative impact on our fertility. He told me it should have no effect on our TTC, that he had only removed a cyst.

After receiving the medical records yesterday (one of the perks of working at a hospital is that doctors' offices will go ahead and send you medical records without having to wait), I was reviewing them out of interest when I came across this paragraph in the surgical pathology report "Specimen consists of a 62.2 gram previously sectioned cystic mass, 10.5 x 9.3 x 5.0 cm. The external surface is smooth and gray-tan. The interior lining is gray pink and smooth without papillatory excrescences. The wall vaires from 0.1 to 0.3 cm in greatest dimension. There is a 4.4 cm in greatest dimension fallopian tube terminating with fimbria."

Wait a minute. What the heck?!?!

Yes, you, like I, read that right. It seems that, in removing the giant cyst, the surgeon also removed my right fallopian tube! And more importantly, never thought it important enough to tell me this!

I feel devestated and hollow inside. I know it's not impossible for us to conceive with only one fallopian tube, but I also know it makes it a lot more difficult! Particularly when you add my PCOS into the mix.

And I think the worst part is that I feel violated by someone I trusted. This surgeon is the same one who cared for my Dad for 10 weeks 4 years ago when we thought he was going to die. He has felt like part of our family since that time. And, yet, he lied to me. He didn't just fail to impart a pivotal bit of information to me - he actively lied to me when I asked him about any potential negative effect on our infertility! It is like a punch in the gut. And I feel like the last almost two years of treatment with my GYN have been wasted, both in time and monetary value.

The Hubs and I have talked and have decided we will wait and see what the RE has to say about the situation when we see him. I'm hoping he will suggest an HSG so that we can determine if the other tube is open and also see if there is any damage to my uterus or ovary. If there is any damage, I hate to say it, but I feel we will seriously have to look at whether it is sensible to bring a malpractice suit against the surgeon. Not because I lost the tube (although I do feel the fact I wasn't informed of this constitutes malpractice), but if there is other damage, I can't just let it pass.

For now, I'm going to hope there is no more damage to my reproductive system and that we can put this mess behind us and move onto the next treatment. I'm trying to take some breathing time to process, but right now it feels like too much to bear.

IComLeavWe / Rant About Comments

Today starts the December IComLeavWe. I wanted to take a moment to welcome all my visitors for ICLW and to say I'm glad you dropped by!

Normally, I would have a light little post giving you some information about me, but unfortunately today is not a good day and I just saw a comment on our Christmas photos post that really pissed me off! So, sadly, what you get from me today is a rant.

The comment read "Weight and Fertility. Being overweight or obese may reduce a woman's fertility. ... Weight loss may improve fertility and pregnancy outcome."

Really?! You mean, after 6 years of TTC, this brand-new life-altering information is just being dropped on me?! Because, apparently I'm too stupid to have thought of this myself. (If you didn't hear the sarcasm dripping in that post, please re-read and add in copious amounts of sarcasm.)

What I wonder is which failed attempt at losing weight would this poster (who, btw, posted anonymously, being too cowardly to even give their name) suggest I give another go?

Perhaps the year gym membership The Hubs and I purchased, used 4 times a week, every week for a year and I managed to lose a grand total of 10 pounds on. Let's not forget to mention that I was also on a strict diet during this time (which I followed to the letter!). Towards the end of the year, I actually began to gain weight back, despite continuing with the efforts I had been at all year long. Maybe I wasn't exercising correctly, this poster may say? The personal trainer we hired thought differently. He was utterly puzzled himself as to why I didn't lose more weight and why it began to come back near the end of the year.

Rather than continue to waste money, our next plan was to walk 2 miles everyday, a practice we still try to maintain today, although its more often only 4 or 5 times a week we manage the feat. Not good enough either?

Maybe, this poster would suggest I go back to one of the hundreds of diets I've tried throughout the years that have all led to naught.

Or, maybe, just maybe, they think the bulemia I had during my high school years would work better for me. No?

At the end of the day what I will say is that my weight has been a battle for me throughout my entire life. I was a large baby when I was born (9lbs, 1/4 oz) and I was a large child. Throughout my adolescence I was large. When I was 16 I got the grand idea that maybe I would lose weight if I threw up what I ate. That way, I could eat anything and still get thin, right? Wrong. What I did was make myself sick and still I was overweight.

In fact, the lightest I've ever been during my adult years was still what would be considered overweight for my height. During the ages of 19 to 21, my weight fluctuated between 160 lbs and 175 lbs. I wore a size 12 clothing. Wanna know how I managed that? I ate one meal a day, danced 4 to 5 hours every night (I was a bit of a wild child after high school - no freedom during the high school years = rebellion during early adulthood), and smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. The nicotine suppressed my appetite.

Maybe, dear anonymous poster, you would suggest I take back up smoking (which I managed to quit cold turkey 8 years and 4 months ago tomorrow)? Would that make you happy with my weight?

Oh, I should also add that when I was at the smaller size, my cycles were still not regular. I had a maximum of 3 or 4 AFs each year. So it seems to me being a lighter weight didn't really have much impact on my fertility.

I'm not suggesting that the size I am now is helping with infertility problems. I'm sure its not. I want to lose weight, if for nothing more than I don't like being as large as I am now. However, that is my business, not this anonymous poster's or anyone else's for that matter. This blog is not a place for ANYONE to pass judgement on me. It is a place for me to express my feelings, whether joy or despair, hope or hopelessness. It is a place for me to find support from others like me, NOT CRITICISM. If what you have to offer me is helpful information, by all means, feel free to do so. If what you have to offer is condemnation and judgement (which you know you were doing, otherwise you would not have commented anonymously), then please pass on by.

Regretfully, I have made the decision make my comments require approval before being posted. I have always said I did not want to do this because it feels as though I'm censoring the comments. However, I feel I have to do this now. I toyed with the idea of removing the Anonymous function, but have - for the moment - decided against this drastic move.

Again, apologies to all who visit from ICLW to fall into the drama of the moment and to those of my regular blog readers who have had to read this simply for one thoughtless individual. I want my blog to be a haven for me, not another place in my life that makes me feel worthless.

Allowed to Grieve?

Today The Hubs and I were eating our lunch, minding our own business, when a lady who attends church with us approached. We looked at one another because this had been one of the people who had not seemed excited for us when we told her about the adoption, so we were both expecting it to be a bad encounter.

When she reached us, she asked how we were doing and then launched into a litany of how awful the past week had been and all the tragedies that had befallen people she knew. I decided to go ahead and bite the bullet and tell her the adoption had fallen through. Her response? "Well, I figured that would probably happen. Very few adoptions actually go through and I knew that now was not the time for the two of you to be parents. The Lord knew you couldn't handle it."

I expected it to be bad, but that really was like shrapnel to my heart. While I sat in stunned silence she continued "By the way, I saw [enter person] this morning - you know him right? Well that's [enter her son's name]'s friend and he was telling me that he's going to be a daddy! Isn't that wonderful! I had to call [enter son's name] immediately and tell him the good news. I've called him with so much bad news this week I thought this would help him out to know." Did I mention the friend in question - and, indeed, her son - are both 6 years younger than me and 8 years younger than The Hubs? Why is he better prepared to be a parent than we are? After all, we've been married for 7 years and he isn't married to the mother (hasn't even been with her for very long), so what gives?

When I lacked enthusiasm in being happy for them, she proceeded to tell me I should not be upset about the adoption falling through. She again repeated the Lord knew we couldn't "handle" a baby right now and that our time would come in a few years. (I didn't realize she had a mystery phone line to God! If I had known that, I would have snuck over to her house to use it many years ago! But, sarcasm aside...) She could not understand why I was upset about the adoption falling through. It wasn't as though I had been pregnant or if the baby had even been born yet.

It was all make believe.

Which leads me to the question: am I allowed to grieve?

It is true that I was never pregnant, so its not as though I had a miscarriage. We had only known the adoption was even a possibility for a few weeks, so I hadn't had time to get so thoroughly invested that it was like my own pregnancy. I didn't even get to attend a doctor visit. I didn't even begin to suffer what others in this IF community have been through, but still.....

I was his mother!! He had so throroughly become my own in my mind that it was like losing him through a miscarriage. It was like having him in my arms and then him being snatched away. It would not have felt any less of a loss had he vacated my own body too early. He was MINE......and now he isn't.

Am I to not be afforded the time to mourn him? Does the fact that he will live, albeit with someone else, negate my right to grieve? On top of the inability to conceive myself and the continual sentiments expressed to me that this is not important, am I also to be stripped of my time to feel the pain of this latest loss all because he was not of my body?

It seems truly unfair.

Thoughtlessness

The girl that I am covering for at work is due to deliver her twins at any moment. She is having twin boys. She did not undergo any fertility treatment to conceive her twins. She and her husband were not trying to have a baby. She told me that she had not planned on having children for several years but she wasn't upset about it. She wasn't, however, overjoyed by the turn of events. She said she would "deal with it" though. I bit my tongue to keep from telling her how lucky she really was and had no conception of her blessings.

I have to travel around our workplace several times each day to collect the information I need to do my job. Everyone is, of course, very excited about the impending birth. They also, of course, question me about how mother is doing and if the babies have been born yet. I understand their curiousity. I really do. Secretly, though, I wish they would ask our supervisor, our other co-worker, the ladies who clean, the man who repairs the copier, anyone other than me. Its like a knife cutting through me when I have to relay that she started dilating last week, that each twin weighs almost 6 lbs, that mom is on bedrest and is expected to deliver at any time. I know why this duty falls to me and I am happy for her, I just, unfairly, feel a bit resentful.

The fact that we're trying is not a secret. Everyone knows. Yet I keep hearing "don't worry", "when the time's right it will happen", "you're still very young", "you've got plenty of time", "it'll happen when you quit trying" (how this is supposed to work, I'll never know, everytime we BD I think about it!), "the Lord just doesn't think its right for you to have a child right now", "you're too young to be worrying about children" (in the same breath they're saying how great a mother my co-worker is going to be despite being 6 years younger than me), "maybe you're not meant to be a mother", "the Lord knows who needs children and who doesn't". Honestly, these comments range from thoughtless to down-right cruel. Don't they understand that none of these statements help. I would rather they just not mention it, but they feel compelled to comment on it everytime they ask about the impending birth.

Would it be rude to cover my ears and run away screaming when someone makes one of these comments?