Sick and tired

Sorry for being MIA for a while there, I got my annual cootie and it has stuck around far far far longer then I had patience for.

Let me back track...

 

After the ultrasound I went to get a massage, because I was sooooooooooo freaked out and worked up over it. I haven't had a massage in over a year and just wanted a "relax all is really gonna be fine" kind of massage...

Well the massage woman pretty much bruised me and then rubbed my feet to make me fall asleep and then sent me on my way...

Clearly she wielded some hypnotic powers over me as I walked out of the spa, sliding in my sandals from all the oil on my skin and cruised right into the children's clothing store next door and bought two things for what will be a new niece or nephew at the end of August.

I was only hearing the sounds of chimes from the darkened massage room as I shopped next to the overly pregnant shoppers, still unaware of the cootie that had been released within.

A day later I had a funny crackle in my chest, and by that night a low fever and sore throat.

 

I usually give myself 48hours of "icky" time, I can only really deal with being that patient with a cold. Well, this one had other plans as after 48hrs, it got worse and had me in my doctors office asking her to drain my head and replace my throat. Sadly because I am allergic to all things holy in cough medicine I had to play "medicine cabinet petri dish" with over the counter cold medicine to find the right combination of things that would suppress the rib cracking cough.

I got no sleep for over four nights and then on Monday The Barren cracked the code:

1. when settling into sleep, sip water every 5 seconds for three minutes

2. take a cap full of DayQuil

3. after one hour had passed, take an expired benydrl and wait...

4. fall into a coma so deep the cough can not permeate it

5. avoid the alarm clock at 5am and snooze until 5:45 then

6. soak self in shower and start your day of work.

 

I am sleeping on my own now and playing catch up....

I ended up spending a week at home, moaning groaning and pacing

I was BEYOND bored and exhausted

When I sat still, I was freaking out over all the deadlines that were passing me, and how much more behind I would be. When I tried to work, it would lead to hours staring and when I typed something, it looked something like this:

"I am in this thing, it is big and interesting, you should see it"

I decided to spare you from those colorful descriptions and grand scenes.

 

I also now have a new appreciation of what the cats feel like, as thrilled as they were with their couch was here ALL the time, I know what it feels like to be an indoor cat.

Wake up change places of sitting,

watch birds on patio,

drink water,

sleep,

move to new sitting place,

sleep,

snack on something unpleasing,

sleep, move to new sitting space...repeat

 

My cell phone was filled with pictures of the cats,

as they were my constant companions

see:

when I was sitting up

When I was leaning back

I am a horrible patient and have no patience for colds.

Thankfully, this one has started moving out.

 

The Barren was sad to hear " the raspy 5pack a day cigarette " voice leave.

apparently that is his favorite part of my colds.

Me being a total stubborn person that doesn't want to do anything suggested for the first two days is his least favorite part.

 

I promise my next post will be better....

 

and the results say...

 

After dealing with a mountain of nerves in the anticipation and an exploding stomach
(from said nerves)

I went and got my (self advocated) 6.5 month ultrasound recheck post surgery.

I travel to another nearby town to check into a hospital and have the most rockstar tech, Ms. Fabulous, perform my test. She is a transplant to the country and use to be a high risk pregnancy nurse. She is crazy compassionate and I have been talking with her for so many years now, we have shared portions of our stories while she is "wanding" me. She is also a teaching tech, so she often has other women techs with her. Yesterday was no exception...well yesterday was exceptional. I don't care for the exam, I am sure no one does, but after about 20 of them they don't bother me. I do not like the preparation bladder expansion portion, as I need to drive half an hour to get to the hospital, so the drive is me hoping that I have consumed enough water to blow up my bladder but no so much that I piss myself when I arrive.

Ms. Fabulous, got me into the room and introduced me to the tech, asked why I was there-you know the general stuff and when I told her about the surgery and I had two really bad cycles that scared me; I was self advocating and getting this exam to make sure nothing new was filling the space.

The tech looked at me and told me she had a cyst that took her ovary at 20, and that they did a c-section size surgery to remove the ovary. She was now past menopause and was glad to be done with the pain of endo. She told me she felt for me. (that was nice)

As Ms. Fabulous started the exam, we laughed chatted and she said she could see my "guys" which is what we call the fibroids (Ms Fabulous says cysts and fibroids are boys) then my uterus came on screen and I said "there is my girl!" She smiled and she typed uterus on the screen...the student asked if I had children...I said no, that is what my last 8 years was a quest for...but it didn't happen.

She was quiet. Then Ms Fabulous told me her mother called telling her that her daughter could not possibly be happy without children (Ms Fabulous doesn't have kids) we commiserated that parents often don't get it. I told her that my MIL told me she was disappointed we didn't adopt and that it was easy. The student piped in and said " UM no it is not, I adopted and it was one of the hardest longest things I did" I told her I told my MIL we couldn't bear another heartbreak.

We had formed a solidarity in that darkened room, with a wand up my vagina admiring my uterus that I have fought so hard to keep.

The very early unofficial reports are in, well according to my AMAZING ultrasound tech, she confirmed that my left ovary still has no additional growths.

She had a hard time finding my right ovary because

the endo has pulled it pretty far behind my uterus but she did.

She told me I had "small birth controlled ovaries", she said that she had to triple check as she has become so familiar with my endometrioma that she couldn't believe she was looking at my reproductive system.
I thanked her as always for sharing what she saw, that I never hold her to her word, as I know she is not suppose to say a thing...but I am so glad she does, because a weekend of worry is not healthy and she agrees. I left feeling strangely normal and unconcerned.
I had booked a massage to follow the ultrasound, as I knew I would be pretty worked up about it.
The masseuse, was OK, I am bruised today, which doesn't feel very relaxing...but I can float over that, as I am holding onto the potential good news for now.
The nurse from my doctors office should call with the results Monday or so and
say her famous first words to me:
"Hi honey it is me, well you have fibroids but you know that already...."
 

Hiding

I seem to be hiding, well not obviously hiding but, symbolically speaking.

I have spent way too much time with a project that should have taken a week to complete but instead we are looking at over a month now...and I am putting myself up against a wall to the deadline.

It is like I am finding distractions or something.

Remember how I told you I had signed up for a figure drawing class. Well I pretty much have found an excuse to skip it almost every week since I first signed up. Too tired, uninspired...not wanting to go. I can figure a myriad of reasons not to go, and

we are talking about a class that is for MY PLEASURE.

Well I dragged my ass back to class this week, it probably helped that the instructor decided that the punch card had an expiration date and my penny wise self decided that $50 for a single class was too much, so I better go and get my monies worth.

I was the first one there, and then I was in the car ready to talk myself out of staying,
waiting to see if anyone else was going to arrive, and then they did.
So I went in, got a spot and cleared my mind...
I was going to draw, it was good for me...
it will clear this desire to procrastinate...
buying dresses online instead of work on art pieces isn't gonna swing anymore
and this will help me reintroduce myself to my inner workings.

The model arrived, she was young and appeared to be a dancer maybe...
she had long legs and arms and was stretching a lot.
The classroom filled with people and drawing boards.
She remained clothed and once the posing started it was obvious this was one of her first gigs.
She stood, bent and then sat.
She was not dynamic, not inspired, not practiced at posing.
She wasn't able to hold still for even the 1 minute warm ups
and
I think she had a crush on one of the male artists in class,
as her eyes (then head) kept turning towards him.
I was less then inspired and starting fighting with the "flee, run from here and hide" voice in my head.

When it was time for her first "long pose", 20minutes, she proceeded to curl into a fetal ball on top of the table and fight falling asleep.
She hid all her lines, and shifted multiple times.
She was hiding from the artists gaze; it was clear to me that she wanted to disappear.
*
I ended up doing blind contour drawings for the rest of the time.
(blind contour is an exercise in looking. You only look at the subject and keep your pencil on the paper and draw what you see, never looking at what you are drawing until you are done.
note image above)
I drew multiple pieces and then started to simply write what I was seeing,
I was loosing my fight with the "run and hides"
The class had started with the teachers ipod playing the whole first side of Strange Days it was mixed with the sounds from the next door studio; which was playing rehearsal music for the troop of ballet dancers, classical piano pieces. When the instructor realized the slurry of sounds, we had heard it for half an hour. She turned off her music and it was strangely quiet, but for the looped classical music now and then.
I made it an hour...I told the teacher I got a text and needed to leave.
this is what I wrote when I was not drawing:

The dog entered the room and serpentine through the easels
eager to greet every artist in the room.
The room was quiet but for the sounds coal, ink and brush on paper,
or erasers pulling coal from paper.
I can hear the almost muted sounds from a nearby set of headphones.
The sounds of ballet instruction bleeds through the walls-
the thumps of dancers landing on floors is synchronized.  
The model, despondent, laid on a piece of foam, on a counter, on top of cabinets
illuminated by three stainless floodlights.

I felt it was best I leave, as I was fearful I would start to grimace or simply stare at the wall or her the rest of the time. That would be creepy and weird, I couldn't be those things.
 So I went home and spent the night wrestling with my choices.
The ones I was struggling with for the timeline,
the media that was mocking me,
the desires I wanted to recapture.
I might be hiding, I admit it.
Is it bad that I am hoping this respite turns out to be a metamorphosis?
 is that to much to ask of myself, of my destiny?
If I am the master of my destiny, can I not want that?
Or is wanting a bad thing?
I am new at shaping my life, I normally didn't put much thought into it...now it seems that if I don't pay attention it will be shaped for me in my absence.
That is a big deal
How do you run towards something?
When you are fearful that it might make you feel exposed?



Stronger?

So in my current struggle with trying to sort things out in my head,

I keep reading my positive affirmations

and there is one that I am currently choking on:

 Infertility made me/us stronger

 

 

I understand that The Barreness wants me to be bitter, and mean and spiteful and vengeful

and as I struggle to not be any of those things, I wonder about the above concept.

Am I really stronger because of it?

Is our relationship really better off, more steady, or more solid?

I read almost daily about couples struggling with IF and how they have parted ways.

The stress, the heartbreak was simply too much to bear.

Does that mean that those couples are failures because they chose to part ways when things got so deep, so thick and so much that they were wedged apart and not able to come back together anymore?

I don't think so.

 

I had a similar conversation with my therapist, when I told her

I didn't believe the phrases:

"whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger"

or

" you are never given more than you can carry"

 

She said she could understand; as there are a lot of shells of people walking this earth.

Although you are not killed by overwhelming circumstances it doesn't mean you are ever really alright after that. Sometimes just functional.

Is that really OK?!

 

Infertility, has been like a cluster bomb; so many projectiles flying from it's central source.

Sometimes I don't discover how far reaching the pieces have flown until years later when I pick a scrap up to remember oh yeah, that is from that bomb.

 

Just this last week I asked my SIL if she was wanting to have a shower for this third child,

and she mentioned that a friend was going to give it for her.

I was hoping for that and was relieved it would not fall on me

I have been looking at baby gifts for her.

It hasn't hurt, it is like a dull more then a pain.

It seems strange, and distant to me...it has been 5years since there was a baby to think about.

My nephews start kindergarten this fall...

So a little someone is an alien concept, but one I am almost looking forward to.

A cathartic element in a way.

A way to literally kiss goodbye all my daydreams, every time I kiss this new person.

 

Does that make me stronger?

Less bitter?

Better? because I am living with a life long sentence of infertility.

I want to try and break free of this quicksand.

I think of it more like a fight or flight kind of thing.

The fight is all gone, there is no point to fight any more....

 

I think what has been handed to us,

well more like, shoved into our faces and lives,

is too much.

 

I can't really remember my life before all this sadness,

I have to look at photos of myself to try and prompt those memories. 

 

I can't see commericals, movies or television with children in them,

 without thinking of the ones we will never have

 

I can't go to any doctor without thinking that something horrible is going to be discovered,

even the dentist

 

I can't go to a park, zoo, store, or even out my front door without

feeling like I am being assaulted with everyone elses fertility.

 

It is nearly impossible to be in conversations with family or friends about children, because I really don't understand their point. I can only imagine what it is like, and then not well at that.

 

Does this make me stronger?

Does this mean I was handed just what I could handle or carry?

 

I am still trying to figure this all out.

Strangely I am not angry or really sad...

I am just sort of here

staring at the sky

 

 

Wordless Wednesday

I love me some good funk, and this is one of the videos wandering around the Internets of

"how to dance to the new Daft Punk album" made my day and made me remember
dancing with the Soul Train dancers Saturday mornings.
Get that booty moving:

Friday

Life has been crazy serious lately in my head, and I just wanted to show you how

 "all over the board I am"
(I ramble in this post, I hope you can keep up)
 

I went out wandering...in a fruitless effort to find a couple summer dresses,

as my current ones are thread bare and several years old....

I have been drooling over some Modcloth dresses, but when I looked at the price, and style

I realized I was picking the same style over and over so

I ended up getting a pattern from Vogue,

that claims to be "easy"
 it has a zipper

I consider that tough, turn blue in the face,cursing level of sewing,

but whatever, maybe my brain will understand the instructions better this time,

or I'll resort to Velcro or staple myself into it out of complete frustration in the end.
 

I have a ton of fabric from my now defunct "children's clothing line"
and thank goodness I was so neurotic, as I collected some seriously cool stuff,
I have all this fabric left over and not enough hours in the day to list them on Etsy,
so I might as well make myself a dress or a skirt or something that resembles those items of clothing.

I am trying to get my funky back.
and a few hours in the day to make a dress....

 

So back to the meaning of this post, I was distracted by sparkle at the local retailer, and had to try on the shoes my mother NEVER let me wear, claiming they would ruin my arches.

Even for "dress up"!
I also think this was her silent feminist response to playing dress up....

So imagine my surprise when she told me I could wear heeled shoes at prom.
 2.5 inches off the ground and I was wobbling around the house like a frigging baby horse
 trying to not break an ankle or as my father referred to it "walk like a truck driver".
 

To this day, I am either barefoot or in sneakers;
anything higher then that is for my mere amusement,

or to feed my inner daredevil/risk taker.
I almost never return home from a heeled evening saying anything

but how much my feet hurt or how I have a blister from the shoes
or how I totally messed up my ankle.
I mostly try, in a vain effort over and over again to be the graceful dancer,
model woman who can walk in shoes higher then the cement.
I have even asked women in stilettos the secret to walking forwards and backwards in the shoes.
They usually just say practice at home....and something about the balls of my feet.
I lost interest after that, because it sounded complex and not like walking.
 

SOOOOO, everytime I see fancy footwear in the store,

I try them on, it is like a grown up rebellion, my version of a repressed dress-up,

you can clearly see my sandals in the pics and my slipping foot inside each shoe.

I did some impressive yoga moves to get this vantage point

 

So here is what they had on sale for $4 each on the super bargain discount shelf:

soooooooooo much glitter and sequins
I was tempted to get them just to source the sequins and glitter off of them!

this one had chicken feathers and a brooch on the toe!
ohh la la
 

Sparkle rhinestones,
all around, and the toes didn't even touch the ground

A little Lady Gaga meets Elton John circa 1972
Gold glitter with spikes around the heel
I like how blingy it is in this picture

 

When all was said and done I left the shoes at the store.
My mother was right, they hurt and made my feet feel funny.
*sigh* 

Fork in the road

image via etsy

 

I am finding that I am slowly remembering a long list of things that will never be.

Like I am in a way saying another goodbye to them.

I am working hard at not being bitter as that is one of my fears.

to create a bitter leftover version of myself

 

I think this latest cycle has been a reminder that I will not carry a child.

Like all the words and years are rushing up on me.

My period use to be a couple days: no biggie, no major shift in my life.

Then I tried to get pregnant and they became these HUGE productions; painful and pointed.

Then 6months ago the surgery, and now they are strange performance art pieces; I never really know what is going on, and what to expect next.

I am still bleeding, even though I have been back on the pill for three days.

I am really along for the ride.

When I was expressing this disappointment to The Barren the the other night,

 telling him I was done bleeding, I wanted to get on with my next 90days,

I had a wave of sympathy for my uterus.

Maybe it is not done doing it's thing, I mean clearly it is...but maybe it is mourning too?!

I said aloud to him, " I know one day sooner then I want it, I will not be bleeding anymore and then I will be sad about that too"

He giggled and said he understood what I meant.

 

I am realizing that I am turning the corner and beyond child-making.

It really isn't gonna magically happen.

 

This made me reflect on all the "positive affirmations" that I have been repeating year after year.

What happens emotionally when you are not gonna get what you wanted.

Not like a toy, or jewelery or cars or houses, or jobs....but a vision of family.

I wonder what those

 feel good, be nice to yourself, believe in miracles, expect the impossibles?

I still collect them, I read them, I try really hard to believe them, wanting to live the words.

I try to not be cynical when I read about others starting their IF journey, knowing that my story doesn't have to be everyones outcome.

What do I do now? How do I start re-building my self identity I mean time is ticking away.

Life is short and have I already spent too much of it hoping against hope?

Waiting and crying and wondering what I could do to make something that would never be happen.

 

My SIL is 6months pregnant with their third child, and as she posts belly growing pics online, and fetus updates, and updates us all on her cravings and aches and pains...

I wonder what does it feel like?

Something so natural, became so unnatural for us...the hippie kids couldn't make a baby?

The teenager could, the IV drug user could, the fighting couple could.

 

I feel that strange sense of numb again, the numb I felt (or didn't feel) when I was slipping into depression, but I am not terribly sad this time. I am not terribly happy either.

I am present, here and now.

Wondering

seeking a new path

a new identity

Not wanting to re-invent myself...but wondering who I really am.

Help Others

image via etsy

 

Below is a list of places you can donate help to others:

 

Central Oklahoma Humane SocietyThe Central Oklahoma Humane Society is in need of towels, paper towels, bleach, gloves and crates to help with lost and injured animals. "Currently our greatest need is financial donations to help us treat and house lost and injured animals at our facilities,"

 

OK Strong Disaster Relief Fund

to help with the long-term medical, emotional and educational needs of victims of the May 20 tornado in Moore and the May 19 tornado near Shawnee: http://www.ok.gov/okstrong/Donation_Information/index.html

 

Direct Relief The Santa Barbara, Calif.-based, non-profit organization provides medical assistance and personal hygiene items to those hurt in disasters, as well as in other circumstances.

 

American Red CrossThe Red Cross has set up shelters in various communities. You can donate to the Red Cross Disaster Relief fund here, and the organization also suggests giving blood at your local hospital or blood bank.

 

Regional Food Bank of OklahomaThe Regional Food Bank of Oklahoma, working with the Oklahoma Voluntary Organizations Active in Disaster, is seeking monetary donations. To donate, visit the regional food bank's website, or give $10 by texting the word FOOD to 32333. 

What now...

Firstly, thank you Stirrup Queens for mentioning my most recent post

(hearts and hugs and love to you)

thank you also to those who have arrived here because of her words

you too are AWESOME!

xoxoxxo

******

 

I was pretty spent once Monday rolled around.

What I neglected to mention was that the weekend prior to Mother's Day I went and got a box of 10 blank cards (in case I decided at the last minute to change my mind and not do this project, I could still use the cards for "real life"), in addition I also got a couple specially selected Mother's day cards for women in my life, my mother and a woman who was about to celebrate mother's day for the first time after 10years of struggling with IF.

I sat down the week before and hand wrote messages in each of them.

I took breaks, but sat there and thought about each woman and found myself imagining what her day would possibly be like. Sounds, smells, and sights.
I am sure I infused a bit of my own fantasies, but hell it was my project I can do what I want.

Yep, even mailed one to that SIL

 

I mailed them off on the Thursday before M.D.

and patted myself on the back,

thinking I might have taken the first step onto a new path.

One that had me beginning this new hope for a self that is more then infertility.
( I am a cautious hoper, I am sure many of us are now)

 

What ended up happening was that I couldn't stop thinking about those cards...
first I wondered if anyone got them
then I wondered if it meant anything to them
then I wondered why they didn't mention to me that they got a card from me
then I got depressed thinking I had spent energy trying to make myself evolve
and instead all I did was push myself back.

Was it worth it, I mean did I do it for the right reasons?
The jury is still out on that one.

In reflection:
Much like my NIAW writing, I am thinking that Mother's Day needs to be reduced in my mind, to something closer to Labor day; a holiday, but no one really knows what to do with it.
For me Mother's day will never be what I though it would be,
but I don't need to take it away from others.

So I am onto other more pressing items on my to-do list.
Step One: decide which direction to head

 

Ostrich

 

I hid this last weekend...

well, I didn't plan to, but hiding under the remote control and a bowl of hummus

ended up feeling like the safest place to be.

 

Let me explain.

I attended my goddaughters first communion, I got a new dress and The Barren and I met her at the church with her parents and family. We had taken godparent classes at this same church 9years ago so we "as non-catholics" could learn the important role we were undertaking.

We take pride in being her back up team...

though we never really were called to service, well so far at least.

I took some photos of our girl, who was mortified at all the attention and parceled out who could take photos with her, and fought the waterfall of tears that were welling in her eyes from people looking at her. She was clearly stressed, but did really well under the circumstances.

Her mom and dad were respectful of her feelings and space and nothing was forced on her.

She went through the paces of the service, even told her older tween sister to "be less grumpy, because I wasn't grumpy on your first communion day". We were proud and watched her and the parade of squirming and fidgety kids line up and take the wafers.

Then when mass was over, but before we all left, the pastor asked all the mothers to rise...

I have read about this situation in many other blogs and I guess because I was in church for a totally different reason I was totally taken off guard.

When they called for all the mothers to rise, it was like a fortress suddenly popped up all around me.

Like these bodies all suddenly formed deep thick walls; I was shaken, physically and began to fight back a swell of tears, I felt so ostracized.

 

 

The Barren noticing this started to touch my back and the tears fell in two streams down my face, I was angry and so hurt. The pastor was blessing these woman, telling them how important they were and how they were special and had magical powers and could fly and make milk and shit rainbows.

I stopped hearing stuff, and instead tried to hide my tears, and curse my suddenly swelling eyelids.

Then I leaned over to The Barren and told him I was leaving out the back door, there were less people in that direction and I wanted to run...fast and far.

Once outside I wanted to tackle the pastor and priests and tell them how they made me feel, and how they had excluded a non-catholic even further! I thought about the "open letter to the pastors" I had read online and wanted to give them a piece of my mind....but on reflection decided this day was not about me, it was about our goddaughter

and I needed to save these tears for a safe place,

this place was not safe.

 

I proceeded to tell The Barren to treat me like I just had an epileptic seizure and

regain normalcy post hast, that it would help me.

We met the others out front and no one was the wiser to my knowledge.

The like magic, our goddaughter walked up to us to thank us for coming and said she would like to take a picture with us, queue internal tears.

We took a photo and moved onto lunch

I had not stepped three paces into the place when our goddaughters Aunt turned to me and said:

" when you posted that thing on facebook about infertility,

I have a friend that says he has a cure for fertility."

I said: "everyone does"

and walked away into the dining room.

I was cooked; I had a drink at lunch, ate greasy noodles and then went home

and hid through Monday morning.

 

No calls on Sunday, no check-ins to friends...just me, the cats and the TV

I look forward to a day when it hurts less or just doesn't appear to be so obvious.

How I sometimes am envious of that ostrich, it can run so fast!

 

B-day hangover

I had a very quiet birthday.

The Barren took me out with the intention of us drinking,
relaxing and hopefully starting a weekend of laughter.
I made reservations for us at a local place that actually makes drinks with alcohol in them,
and the food is alright...
We ended up talking about our infertility most of the night...
he is finding himself in a strange place,
wanting to move on but the constant questions from others makes it hard to.
The drinks allowed us to laugh about lots of things, instead of cry.
 

By my third drink I was pretending to be on a first date with him.

He found this very funny, I thought in my drink induced haze I was being sneaky.

...then I suggested we go for a walk; that idea ended after the fourth step outside

when I realized how heavy my head was,
and the act of balancing it took too much effort
 in combination with walking.

He suggested we drive home,
The Barren took an alternative route and I think he was headed to the beach for a

make-out session with his "date"...but

I had closed my eyes and when I opened them I thought I was being kidnapped

and although I made him laugh, it was clear I was panicked.
Make out session nixed
Instead...

We arrived home to me literally crawling upstairs and falling on the floor,
laughing hysterically at the cats "sitting there judging me"
and collapsing into bed.

2am woke me by slamming a hammer against my skull and

Saturday was a greasy food hangover recovery day.

so, for some a typical birthday,
for me bittersweet,
as I think I was trying to make it all normal.

hangover food: vegetarian version
grilled cheese-raw onions-french fries

 

***

My cake eating party went OK,
a friend received a call just as we were cutting the cake,
that something happened to her fiance who was returning from a weekend trip
and the mood dropped and we dispersed.
Leaving a lot of cake and a gallon of homemade ice cream in the freezer.
(fiance OK, but a member of his adventure passed away)
 

My dear friends planned a "do-over"

I was embarrassed at them wanting to make a fuss, but also deeply touched.
We had sangria and dinner and then I got a gift on top of all that.
It was lovely.

I made these two options for sugar overload, plus cookies...
it was insane of me

My birthdays seem to be evolving into a smaller, quieter gatherings.
I use to have HUGE parties and some little part of me still craves that,
but I am coming to understand as we age it doesn't always work out that way anymore.
I think I am OK with this evolution.

I think I carried a lot of last years memories with me into this birthday.
Reflecting on my mother and father and how radically my relationship has shifted with them.
It was hard to not think of, it was hard to not remember, it was hard to let go of.
My mother and father are "fine", and I struggle daily with not parenting them for two reasons:
1. they are not ready/needing parenting yet
2. I am not ready to be my parents parent.
I have to remember this, well mostly number 1, because I know when the time comes number 2 is something I will never be ready for.

I feel a personal evolution within again too:
I am becoming older, and possibly wiser.
Problem is, I don't want to grow up anymore...

Dream

photo via: animalheadvintage

I had a dream last night that I went to the Doctor for my 6month

after surgery check up and they did an ultrasound

and found I had two babies growing in the wrong space...

one was growing in my tube and the other in my ovary.

I had to have emergency surgery and have them taken.

I was heartbroken and worried, wondering if there was any way to save them.

 

I was searching for the Barren and couldn't find him....

I had my mother with me and I was frightened

that she would not hear what the doctor found

...or that she would keep information from me.

Even after waking I was still frightened

 

That dream was followed by another the following night

that I was searching

for The Barren again; the night sky was filled with bi-planes

 they appeared like larger then life fireflies.

As I was searching I entered a building that was built like the Guggenheim (a spiral)

it was a mall or someplace like it in dream logic

I was entering and exiting the maze of spaces

until I reached an open atrium space

where a baby giraffe was, running in circles in the small space, the keeper

laughing at its fear and panic.

I tried to calm the baby, shh-ing and cooing...but before I could

it collapsed, eyes wide open...stiff and strait as a pole.

 

I am not sure what these dreams mean, or why I felt compelled to write about them...

I know they are full of dream symbols:

1. To dream that a giraffe is running implies that you are avoiding the truth. It also suggests that you saw something that you shouldn't have seen. To see a giraffe in your dream suggests that you need to consider the overall picture. Take a broader view on your life and where it is headed. The dream may also be a metaphor on how you are "sticking your neck out" for someone.
 
2. To see an airplane in your dream indicates that you will overcome your obstacles and rise to a new level of prominence and status. You may experience a higher consciousness, new-found freedom and greater awareness. Perhaps you need to gain a better perspective or wider view on something. If the airplane is taking off, then it suggests that an idea or plan is about to "take off" and be put into action. It may also represent your need to get away and escape from your daily life.
   
    
3. To dream that you are a doctor suggests that there is some problem that you need to patch up or some emotional wound that you need to bandage up. Alternatively, it signifies your ability to offer your support to others.

Ironically, two new giraffes were born at the local zoo...

"April 30, 2013: Congratulations, Betty Lou!

    Betty Lou gave birth April 28 to a healthy calf named Sunshine. She is being an attentive mom, and letting the calf nurse. Sunshine is 6' and 133 lbs. Zookeepers have begun introductions to the rest of the herd, and mother-calf pairs will most likely rotate on and off exhibit. Michael, father to both calves, will remain on exhibit most of the time."

 

 

 

Once a year

 

Yep, it is my birthday today.

I am not feeling a whole lot of festive.

 

I have been pulling myself through the week.

I know I have a lot to celebrate and how thankful I am for this life.

My parents are alive and mostly healthy, my body seems to be acting civil towards me,

I have an amazing husband and I am able to explore my art.

I am thankful.

 

I also have this overwhelming feeling that I don't deserve a celebration.

Like I have not done enough to earn it.

It is the battle I have been fighting.

 

All week, and last I was telling The Barren I didn't want to talk about my birthday,

 it was too emotional.

But...knowing me as well as he does,

I have overstressed my beloved, as he knows

I will want to be surrounded by friends at the last moment

and then he will be at a loss.

So to reduce The Barrens stress level I have helped him out this year.

I decided that maybe a cake eating party would make me feel better.

I will report back on that.

I am sending out the last minute invites today.

I also plan on dressing up and

we are having dinner with the parents tonight, and I know that should set me strait.

 

In beginning my birthday reflections,

I think I might go silent next year for NIAW, or not post anything in regards to my infertility.

I hope that this year, I can begin to make a metamorphosis and start to tilt the scales away from

being the infertile woman...and more about being the artist who also has

a body of work about infertility.

 

I plan on making a new list of goals for myself....

and eating loads of cake

with ice cream

Quiet the crazy

Here we are ladies, in the middle of NIAW.

It seems like many of us don't need to be reminded of this week,

 as we live with it daily, hourly, even moment by moment.

This week makes many of us sudden advocates, warriors and spokespeople.

Many of us are reluctant, or fearful of revealing ourselves.

Myself included;
 because after 8 years

I am now working on being something,

someone, other than the infertile woman,

the barren couple,

the sad story.

 

Yesterday I was in a deep dark place, I had a whole lot of crazy swirling in my head.
I had my mean mantras repeating themselves, the destructive ones, the easy ones...

I had a weekend full of my crazy MIL who probably has no thoughts about our last encounter and figures it was just a normal conversation about the weather or a new item of clothing.
 I was not able to tell her how it made me feel and I think that had taken a toll on my mental health. I was not able to make eye contact with her the whole time and it made me feel weak and sad. It built up and when I awake yesterday it was VERY clear to me that
I was going to battle a day of deep sadness.
I have composed a bunch of letters in my head, spoken to myself, with great presence and dignity about how it made me feel and also envisioned whacking her upside the head a'la cartoon style until she came to her compassionate senses.



this is an illustration only, I do not have button eyes

 

None have escaped my head...really
though it was fun to think about picking up the paella pan that
separated us at dinner and hit her with it.

Now, she is far away, and most likely we will not see/hear from her for many more months, or until she calls frantic for us to visit them thousands of miles away, RIGHT NOW drop everything.
We will cross that bridge when it appears; until then I am working on filtering out all the hurt and pain and frustration.
I am better today, I told The Barren this morning while standing naked and wet from the shower: "today is a new day, lets try this again"
it was the start of the day, I was naked and nothing had stuck to me yet!

NIAW makes me remember, that there are other people in this world that have no idea what others are living with, how powerful a casual statement can sit and fester, or how desperately we don't want to think about this week.
 

Empty-NIAW 2013

In honor of NIAW I have decided to post something I wrote two years ago:

Emptiness- containing nothing

Infertility left a hole in me. I was left as shell of myself for some time.

The first sign that something was wrong arrived while I was at work…I got a frantic phone call from my doctor just two hours after my first pelvic ultrasound. “Um… there is a fairly large unknown growth that appears to be in your bladder and we are not sure exactly what it is. So I need to you see a gynecological oncologist, an urologist and get a CT scan in the next day or so”.  I worked at a warehouse and so while she is feeding me a list of numbers and phrases over the phone, I was simply seeking a quiet place to hear all she was saying. When she was done, I couldn’t move; but when I did I shot out the door as fast as I could in hopes no one would see the flood of tears that would be my last for a long while.

I became a pin cushion, I was probed and prodded for months, years…some people were skilled and left no marks, others left bruises, rashes and scar tissue.

I was submissive through this all.

As the months passed, something shifted and I felt nothing; no pain, no joy, no happiness… nothing. Food was not enjoyable; friends were of no comfort. I spent time staring into space, watching the walls be white. I commuted 45 miles to work daily, and often times would find myself at work not remembering how I got there, even though I had driven myself. It took great effort to make easy decisions, like which cereal to buy for breakfast. I was on auto pilot.

I was able to dress myself, bath myself and eat, but I was not there for it.

I stopped expressing emotions; I didn’t laugh, get angry or cry. I was a shell, it was me to all appearances, but no one was home.

“The stork has been visiting- 2007

I visited her at the hospital, and cried on the way there. Mourning as I drove closer and closer...
The night I received her call, I dozed off with my arms wrapped around my invisible baby...wanting so badly to wake from this horrible dream I am in.

I felt like Dumbo's mama watching all the other mothers receive their babies.

I have not slept well and had a panic attack in the shower this morning...feeling as though I would faint. I fought the collapse, because I didn't want to frighten my husband in the early hour.

Sadly, it would have been very easy to surrender to the dark.”  Text from BARREN: life on infertile soil

As my bruises healed I was left with the stark reality of having no external symbols of my pain, my heartbreak, my existence.

How would anyone know what was happening…

NIAW 2013

Here is the start of a week, we all are too familiar with.

Let the headgames begin!

 

 

Note to self...

The front of the postcard, charming, no?!

So I was in the garage today, making room for furniture that is bound to arrive by this weekend.

It is the only place that it will fit.

Furniture that is no doubt beautiful and old and too big to fit in our tiny home.

BUT I am still holding a candle for a "forever home" that will fit the chest and the dresser.

 

I was moving things, building a pile of items that will be picked up by the local thrift store this week before they unload more things into the tiny garage that we then get to deal with down the road.

Anyhooo... I was moving stuff and unearthed a box of old photos.

Among the treasures I exhumed was a postcard I sent myself.

Yep, I am that person....I send myself a postcard the last day of the journey telling myself how I was feeling at that moment or what I had learned.

It arrives days after me, and usually just as the "paradise is fading from my memory" and I am getting back to reality moment.

 

This postcard was sent to me, by me in 1997

I had gone (escaped)* to Europe for a few weeks, to find out how damaged I was.

The Barren and I were about 5years into our relationship and he was ready to settle down and I was flipping out....so I ran away to listen to my heart and get a little space....well a lot of space.

He endorsed this, and waited for me to figure shit out...it was really only a short period of time but enough to put things in line, ya know?! 

*Running away sounds to romantic, but really it was me on a $20 a day budget for food and housing and I was eating a lot of candy bars and staying in hostels that fed you breakfast so I could pocket bread or cereal for dinner.

Anyways.....

 

I read this postcard again today with a smile on my face.

This is what it says:

Well- here I am and there you are- two way different places-but still one person. You can depend on yourself- and know how long and short time can be, hours, days, months. Feet are tired, ankles sore- emotionally exhausted. but-in a sense a bit afraid of getting into a groove-becoming set in my ways again. Remember movement-simple movement. walking barefoot-walking the dog-motion is what you need and know that returning can be just as good as coming- the swing is in your heart- you have the ability to come and go and don't let that be taken away.Continue to say what you feel. Be aware of what you need and tell him- don't back down as you wouldn't want him to do.and make art-your soul needs it. Send slides-invest in yourself and enjoy time. Don't wait for it to pass (as I am doing now) be loving-take another chance and give it. Know that you are a strong-confident woman-keep that damn smirk on your face. Keep them wondering.



I am so glad I sent myself this card....it is like a pocket mantra.



The Phonecall

I miss these phones,
you could slam them against things and make dents

 

I was reaching out to a couple people I know in an effort to help a fellow friend make a couple connections for possible job opportunities.

It is WAY out of my nature to ask or refer to myself as a bridge for someone to get something.

I guess I don't feel like I hold that level of importance or something.

you know like, I know someone, and they work at this place and a third person I know wants to work at said place and so I introduce them so they can chat or make that connection.

I just wanted to do whatever I could to help this awesome friend, so I got over it for the morning.

 

Well, one of the calls back, with a more then happy to help person, came from someone I have only really casually spoken to over the years. She is CRAZY smart, you know, speaks 5 languages fluently and has 245thousand extra letters after her name from degrees she has collected over time.

She is about to be 35yrs old, and is very involved in her career.

She got married a couple of years ago to a friend of The Barren.

 

When we were chatting about the easiest and best way to get my friend and her to contact one another she got kind of quiet.

I asked if she had more travel plans in line for the year.

She said those heartbreaking words

" I don't know if this is the right time to say this but...."

She then told me that she threw out her BCP when she got engaged and after three years found out that she has PCOS.

I was bathed in a calm, a heartbreaking calm

 

I told her I was so sorry, and how heartbreaking it is.

She then began to talk about everything; and I began to listen with a heavy heart.

She told me how people are relentlessly asking her when she is going to start a family and that it kills her a little each time.

"it is in gods hands" is her normal response,

she said for her it gets them to stop asking and that it conveys that she is wanting children and is not a child hater or shunning the idea/hope.

(seriously, isn't it amazing that people jump to the idea that we don't like kids because we don't have them....ughhhhh)

She mentioned how she feels like she is letting her family down, her brother is gay and she is the families only hope for grandchildren and that she is letting them down.

I said the words that I work to believe everyday:

" This is not your fault, you didn't do this"

I then tried to assure her that she would find the right choices for herself.

I told her that she and her hubby would find their path, and that maybe she could mention it to her family too, that she was struggling...and needed some extra love and compassion.

She mentioned that her husband said to her

"that if she took better care of herself this wouldn't have happened."

He told her "you should call The Barreness and The Barren, they know about what you are going through"

(notice the lack of engagement from hubby, it is all her, not him)

I felt like my friends did, wanting to find a cast iron pan and lop him upside his head.

instead...

I repeated the mantra:

This is not your fault, you did not do this

I told her that it was important to remember it when things got dark

 

She said she was offered a job out of the US and was considering it. She said she needed to find a new path, a new purpose, a new reason for being who she was.

It broke my heart a little more

but I completely understood.

I mentioned that this process is a lifelong one, some days are good and some are bad.

I gave her an exercise my therapist gave me and she said she would try it.

When the call was over she thanked me and I told her I believed in her and her choices that were right for her, she needed to make those paramount.

 

After hanging up the phone, The Barren who overheard the whole call said:

" are you OK, that was a lot for you"

I said: " We are the infertility hotline, we can answer all questions.

Our phones are open 24/7"

 

I got up, pulled two sticks of butter out of the fridge and made cookies.

It was a lot



Moving Forward...

image via pinterest

 

So as another week passes I feel fortified!

I got me one FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC

badass girl friends!

 

This last weekends family gathering was so low on drama, it was shocking.

(thank you for your kind words and thoughts)

 

The Barren and I both were still a bit guarded,

and watching our niece and nephew play with the other young duo that was there was heartbreaking, but also enjoyable as we had no responsibilities other than giving hugs and kind words.

 

The Barren feeding the in house bunnies and piggies

 

We were often quiet, and although there was a lot of talking, a lot of it was about other people, other adventures and other events. It was refreshing.

We posed for the "awkward family photo" and the few pics I have seen so far, reflect the level of comfort everyone was feeling from wearing matching outfits.

No attacks, no drama for me, no drama for The Barren

ahhhhhh

 

We returned home and I spoke with girlfriends and unloaded my heart.

Every dear wonderful friend I spoke to was angry and wanted to hit them( SIL and MIL)

 upside the head with a cast iron pan.

It made me feel so loved and protected and cared for

in a really primal way.

I know that the ladies I have worked so hard to have in my life are dear wonderful companions.

I feel like the luckiest lady on earth for it.

 

Now, now I am diving back into the studio...it is where I am happiest.

It is safe and free and smells right

 

Plus, I need to reinforce those plates of armour

My aforementioned mother-in-law will be visiting very soon.

next week I am told.

So that distance I thought I had is not the case....The Barren promises to stay near this time.

I think mostly to make sure I don't pick up any pans