Saying Goodbye to the Circus

I’ve seen a lot of posts lately, about people’s successes, and truly I am so happy for each of you who has toiled and suffered and worked so hard for the shimmering happiness that comes with getting a longed for positive, with each week that passes that brings you closer and closer to the safety zone. I do not begrudge your obsessive pee sticks, your burgeoning belly shots and your tentative steps toward a cautious joy. I  happily root for you. I sincerely hope that each of you finds that. I hope I find that.

But the posts about resentments have always made me wonder if I was a good fit for this community. How different my belief systems are, how much older I am,  how different my experiences have been, and all the ways those experiences have shaped me.  I don’t understand how you can wish like crazy for a baby and resent someone who has been on their own path through hell, a positive pee stick or a belly shot. Even in my current state of grief, I can’t grasp this thinking. I can’t wrap my head around it. I understand it. I’ve felt those twinges as well, but I have never given in to them. I never will allow myself to.

To be completely clear, I do not judge you if these are your feelings, they are yours. But I do not understand them in the grand scheme of things.

“Coming out” on Facebook has been nice, sort of. But embarrassing and kind of humiliating. The truth is I don’t think most of my “friends” really want to read about the misery I am currently experiencing. To be honest, I’m not sure I want to continue to share it. If I am brutally honest, I think it was kind of pathetic on my part, to call attention to it. Clearly it was me reaching out into the void, looking for support. I’ve said all  along I don’t have a support system. That has never been clearer and more “in my face” than since my embryo died. I call it an embryo because by medical definition, it wasn’t a fetus yet, and I can’t handle calling it a baby.

Yesterday, someone I respect said to me, “You are right. You really don’t have anyone in your life, like a best friend or a spouse that supports you, so you can’t afford to fall apart. You’re going to have to be stronger.”

This statement made me really angry, because after all I’ve been through, I feel entitled to be weak for a minute. I feel like I deserve to be allowed to fall apart. The truth is, he was right. I have no one that will pick me up again so I AM going to have to be stronger. I am going to have to keep putting one foot in front of the other because there is no one else to do it for me. No one to share my burden.

This most recent series of posts that I’ve read and posted, has made me wonder if I have lost the purpose of this blog. When a Circus becomes a Horror Story perhaps its time for the Circus to close down.

That’s what I’m going to do.

I will not be taking the blog down. I will be reading and responding to comments, but I no longer think this is a positive means to express my feelings about my journey. I have decided I will try IVF again, but I have a lot of ugly to get through first. I think its best sorted out in private, so this will be my last post here.

I have found I really love writing, though I’m not terribly good at it,  and you will now be able to find me at The Luncheonette.

It’s still under construction, but I think it will be a more complete representation of who I am. I will be sharing a menu of my travels, photography, food, my husband and stepdaughter, things I think are funny or inspiring, books, music, movies, my observations of the world, and my immature shenanigans.

I want to thank the IF community for being kind to me, for supporting me and tolerating my sometimes controversial posts. For reading even when I’ve been a bitch or my posts have sucked. I know in my heart that the day will come for each of you when you hold your baby(s) in your arms and feel happier and more complete as women, and as part of families.  My email address is jlko@att.net if you want to stay in touch.

I hope it’s not goodbye, I hope it’s just so long, and I hope to see you at the lunch counter!

Jeanette

The Shape of Us

I am pregnant.

The results of my beta are: 71.5

I’d be lying if I said I was thrilled and exited and scared to death, all at the same time.

I’ve actually known since Tuesday when I was having that absurd conversation with myself, the conversation went on for quite a bit longer than I documented. Including where I finally said “Fine go ahead and buy the tests, but you are definitely not testing today!”  So I went home took a nap and peed on a stick.

Now before anyone calls me out on my crazy, 1. I acknowledged it a long time ago. 2. I’ve mentioned on multiple occasions in multiple posts that I give FANTASTIC advice that I then proceed not to follow.

As the results became visible, I kept blinking and thinking do I see a second line? Seriously? Is it there or am I imagining it?

Since then, I admit it. I’ve peed on all the things. 3 FRER tests, 1 digital test, and 1 test from the $1.00 store.

Because I knew early I’ve had lots of time to worry about how my beta would come back. And next will be if the numbers double properly. There is a long road for me and my goldfish, of making it through all the markers and milestones. I am not sure I will be comfortable for a while. A positive test doesn’t indicate a viable pregnancy.

But it gives me a reason to hope. Today, for that I am grateful.

Insulation vs. Isolation

 

Today was my Endometrial Biopsy. It went well, I got nervous driving over and my heart was racing by the time I walked in the door. It hurt. About the same amount as an egg retrieval does but it was bearable and I didn’t cry or make any noise during it. I’m not sure I was breathing though, and when Dr. asked “You ok?” I squeaked “yes”. It went fine. Finish Estrace and Provera, wait for shark week, and we will see you on day 2 or 3 at which point we will decide what to do next. I will be ready.

I’ve made a new plan. Because planning for things I can’t control is super useful. Not it’s not actually groundhog day, I have said that before. But before you tune out, this plan is different. This one is stuff I actually CAN control. Imagine that? Me getting smarter over time. I’m shocked at myself really.

Isolation is what I do when I’m miserable. Go off like a wounded animal to lick my wounds in private. Or you know, die. It’s not good. It’s really not healthy as I have done such an exceptional job of demonstrating over the last few weeks.

i·so·la·tion [ahy-suh-ley-shuhn, is-uh-] noun

1. an act or instance of isolating.
2. the state of being isolated.
3.the complete separation from others of a person suffering from contagious or infectious disease; quarantine.
4. the separation of a nation from other nations by isolationism.
5. Psychoanalysis . a process whereby an idea or memory is divested of its emotional component.

I’ve decided to keep working on my support system, try to nourish and grow those friendships, focus on myself and actually be selfish. *Yes. Dr Paul, I know you’ve told me this for almost a year, but I am stubborn and have a thick skull, doy.* Also I’m 9 and still use words like “doy” in fact, I think we need to bring it back.

The growing the friendships and support system part is Part I. Part II is: I’m  going to start insulating myself from things that add additional stress to my life in general. My husband and I talked about it again and he said he’s willing to help try to support me better. I’m getting rid of a lot of eejits from Facebook, avoiding things and people who upset me, and trying again to think pretty pink positive thoughts.

You have to give me credit for persistence, effort and tenaciousness. I keep trying.

Insulating yourself from negative influences, or things that influence you negatively isn’t a bad thing. Right? I mean I’m not saying I’m going to avoid my life, but I am going to stop trying to take on, or responsibility for every single thing alone, and I am going to try to stop isolating myself when I’m feeling particularly dark. It’s new for me, I’m not good at asking for help, but if I have learned anything in the last month, it’s that I am sure I will make mistakes, and its a step in the right direction.

I will decide when this is too much for me. I am still here, a little bruised and shaky, hoping to dust myself off and keep fighting toward my ultimate goal. A family of my own.

I heard this song last year once, and last night again. Its beautiful. And peaceful.

 

Wrecking Ball

After yesterday’s soapbox rant where I seem to have hurt some people’s feelings, I wanted to take a moment to apologize for my abrasive approach for a topic that his highly sensitive to this community. I am sorry. I don’t know how else to discuss it except head on.

I still want better for all of you. And I still want you to give FB or whatever less power over your feelings.

Some of the comments that came from the post were so supportive and so kind, and so incredibly appreciated. Thank you.

To be crystal clear, infertility sucks. Period. Exclamation point. Elvis has left the building. No matter what your age, diagnosis or circumstances are.

After 2 days of feeling like I’ve been flying apart, I feel better today. Yesterday was one big emotional train wreck and I made the decision to go to bed at about 9pm with as little interaction between me and other humans as possible. Again, I lay there for a long time trying to blank out, and finally fell asleep. One of the recurring themes has been that pretty much everyone knows that hope and faith are important, but no one really knows where to get them, keep them and find more of them.

If anyone does know, please tell me. PLEASE!

In the meanwhile I am a wrecking ball. Psht. Like you haven’t figured that out by now.

Sigh. Another blogger, whose feelings I am absolutely positive I hurt, sent me a book. A gift I didn’t open until this morning, because I thought Amazon was just sending me more copies of another book I ordered ( they have sent 3 copies so far) which if anyone was wondering made me feel like even more of a dick. A gift, for no other reason than because she’s amazing. I admire her, now SHE is brave and strong and someone who I wish I was more like, Daryl sent me a book that she chose herself, and as someone who works with kids, its knowledge I appreciate being privy to, a book called“Whole Child Whole Parent”  It’s a book I wouldn’t have chosen on my own but its a book I will read and relish its sights. And I thank Daryl for 1. sending it to me and 2. for her intention which I am sure is clean and pure and amazing. The same way I see her.

Lets talk about her for a moment. I love her bravery. Her quiet strength. Her ability to be articulate herself without hurting anyone else. I wholly admire her, and I wish/pray for some of her strength and bravery every day. So after a post that I am sure hurt her, I want to apologize. With a song that’s not nearly hardcore or dark enough for her, but a song that talks about the redemption we all wish for through this journey.

As much as I love Springsteen, he will never be the same without Clarence Clemons. RIP Mr. Bigman.