I KNOW WHAT I WANT

Do you ever think about the things that you would like to have, and find that others think you are nuts for wanting these things???

Come on, I am sure everyone has a weird list of “wants.” It can’t just be me. And I am not talking about your run-of-the-mill wants, like “I want a million dollars” or “I want to be skinny no matter how much junk food I eat.”

Here are some things that I want, that when I tell other people they scratch their heads:

I want to be a brunette (I am bored with being blonde)
I want to wear glasses (I have perfect vision but think glasses are sexy)
I want to be flat-chested (my cups runneth-over)

If I dare to admit to any of these desires I am always met with “But you are a BLONDE! You’re so lucky!” “But your eyesight is great, you’re so lucky!” “But you have big boobs*, you’re SO LUCKY!”

*I hate the word boobs. Probably stems from hating my ACTUAL boobs.

Classic case of the grass being greener on the other side, I guess. Maybe we want certain things just to experience them. I mean, even when I was younger, I could not WAIT to get braces. The novelty wore off fast, it is true, but I could not wait to get them.

Why do I want to be brunette? Probably because, being a female, it is virtually impossible for me to ever be satisfied with my hair. It is a curse I will live with for the rest of my life. Speaking of my hair, in the effort to simplify my life in preparation for my IVF cycle, I cut six inches off last night. I just don’t have the time to put any effort into my hair these days, and when my hair takes an hour to blowdry, that is just too much work. I needed something that would be relatively effortless. I am sure it will only take me a week to start wishing I could have my long ponytail back, but still I think it was the right thing to do. “Simplify your life,” I keep repeating, like a mantra, over and over to myself.

Glasses? I don’t know why I want glasses. It is not as though I am ungrateful for my clear vision, it is more of a fashion thing. I can’t help it, I think glasses are sexy and mysterious and wish I could wear them sometimes. Again, the desire to reinvent myself emerges.

The boob thing? Actually, had breast-reduction surgery a little over three years ago. Best thing I ever did. And although I am far from “flat as a board,” at least I no longer look like an upside-down weeble.

Anyways this post is starting to ramble and I am not even sure if there was a point to it.

Oh, yeah.

I want to be pregnant. I want to have a baby. I want a toddler, a child, a teenager and a grown adult child. I want these things.

Nothing gets me more angry than when I express these wants and I am met with the same looks that I would get when saying “I wish I wore glasses.”

“Just you wait until you’re pregnant, you’ll wish you never WISHED for it!”

“You want kids? Take mine for a day and THEN talk to me!”

“You just want a baby. Guess what? Babies grow up and then you’ll be asking yourself why you ever wished for this!”

“Oh yeah? Come and talk to me about a year after you’ve had your first baby, and let’s see if you feel the same way!”

Don’t people understand how hurtful these things are to say to someone in my position? Hell, to say to anyone in any position? If someone makes the decision that they want to have a child, why on earth would you say something like this to them? Perhaps if that someone is a fourteen year old girl who wants a baby, then yes you should possibly try to explain to them the real responsibility of what having a child is.

But don’t try to tell me what I want. Don’t tell me that I don’t know what I am asking for. I know the grass is always greener, and to the people I know who have children, it looks like I am living the charmed life. “You can go out whenever you want, without worrying about finding a sitter.” “You can just drop everything and go on vacation in a moment’s notice.” “You have money, and you can actually spend it on yourselves.”

Yeah. Big fucking deal. I want all of those things you complain about. I can’t wait until the day I have to turn down plans because I can’t find a sitter. I can’t wait until I am up to my ears in diapers and Gerber peas. I can’t wait until my teenage daughter screams at me “I hate you, you are ruining my life!” and slams her bedroom door in my face, just so that I can start in on the whole “do you have ANY IDEA what I went through to bring you into this world?” guilt-trip on her.

I want it all. I am almost thirty four years old. I think I “get” what it is all about. I think I get that it is the hardest job I will ever have, ever. I have had many years to realize all of these things.

I wish I had the guts to respond to these remarks with “so, you regret that you have children, huh? You wish you didn’t have them, they have ruined your life, it seems.” Because I know the response I would get would be “of course not, I love my children, I couldn’t live without them, that would be the hardest thing in the world!”

Don’t tell me what I want, because here I stand, wanting my children, and living without them, and it is the hardest thing in the world.

PURE EVIL...

I have seen the face of evil, and it sent an icy chill down my spinal cord. Oh, spawn of Satan! How I loathe thee, diabolical red vehicle of Lucifer!





evil saab 

Hey, anybody wanna buy a car?

THE COIN TOSS

One of the most interesting passages I have read in my “in vitro” book so far has been about why going through multiple IVF cycles is a GOOD thing. They compare going through multiple IVFs to tossing a coin. They say, if you call heads and flip a coin once, you have 50/50 odds of it coming up heads. But if you call heads and flip a coin many times, your chances of heads coming up increases dramatically.

Hmmm….

I grabbed a nickel on my desk. Six fully-insured IVF cycles.

“Tails!” I called in the air, to no one in particular.

I tossed the coin six times in a row.

Tails.
Heads.
Tails.
Tails.
Heads.
Tails.

Hmmm….well THAT is encouraging!

FIRST THINGS FIRST

I still haven't gotten used to the fact that I am suddenly an IVF patient. It all happened so fast, and just going by the way our treatments have gone, I assumed IVF was at least another six months down the road. I thought I had some time to do some research and learn what I could. Nope! This is quite okay; I am not complaining. But I do have some catch up work to do, educationally and emotionally.

Fortunately I have friends in blogworld who are able to educate me simply by reading up on your own experiences with IVF. Amanda, who is about to begin her first IVF cycle, has already helped me out. Taking cues from what she is already doing, I ordered the same book that she is reading, The Couple's Guide to In Vitro Fertilization. It arrived today, and I can't wait to read it.

But I also reviewed her checklist from that day's post, and one of the items jumped out at me more than all the rest: "I have decided on the optimal time to schedule my IVF cycle. I have figured out a plan for balancing work and treatments. My partner's calendar is also clear and he is on board to help me." Um, noooooo......

The timing of our IVF #1 could not POSSIBLY be worse. Here are a few reasons why:

- Work is crazy busy right now, and I am working late a lot to earn comp time for upcoming IVF cycle since I have used up most of my time off this year due to previous IF treatments.
- My current house needs odd jobs to be done pronto, because
- We are putting our house on the market in 2-3 weeks to try to sell it on our own, without a Real Estate Agent
- The new house requires a lot of my attention, as we still have lists and lists and lists of things to select and purchase as its construction progresses.
- IVF #1 is happening in the fall, the worst time of year for my allergies. I have never, in 33 years, not gotten VERY sick during the fall. Not once.
- I am still trying to make bags, bags, bags for the November Christmas fair.
- I have to plan a baby shower for my sister
- When her shower happens I will have just learned the fate of IVF #1. Sounds like a recipe for disaster.

Yes, I see it there in writing and realize the timing is really not good. But I just cannot bear to put this off. I mean, if people always waited for the ideal time to do things, many things would never get done, because "ideal timing" does not exist. Not in my world. If it did, hell, I would probably be pregnant by now, no???

The only good news is that I have to have surgery again. (I am probably the only person that can look at surgery as good news, right?) My RE thinks that she saw "something" in the last ultrasound from June's IUI, and she is suspicious that the polyp she removed in May has grown back. Her exact words to me were, "We want to do everything we can to maximize the chances of the IVF working, and I would feel better taking a look and finding NO growth, than assuming nothing is there and have it interfere with the IVF working." I totally agree with her.

I say that the laparoscopy is good news because it means we don't actually begin the IVF until September. It is allowing me a little time to mentally adjust to this shift in the course of my treatment. And it will give me some time to get my priorities in order.

I already told my mother, privately, that I cannot plan my sister's shower. Originally, I was going to be in charge of the whole thing. That is unrealistic, I now see, and once again given the timing of her shower and my IVF results, just ATTENDING the damn thing could be one of the roughest days in my life. My mother agreed and told me to only help with the planning when or if I could.

I may have to consider cutting some other things out of my life - like dropping out of the fair. On the one hand, I love sewing and it is often my "escape" from all the stress I am feeling. But if I suddenly find myself with a deadline hanging over my head with this craft fair, the bags could quickly turn into "something else to do" that is only going to stress me out more.

Lastly, I mentioned to Anthony that, although the timing may be incredibly awful (with the move ahead of us,) that if my job is not providing me the flexibility that I need, or if work is such a stress that it is interfering with the treatments, I may need to leave. He agreed with me, but we also both concluded that this will be a worst-case scenario option. But knowing that he agrees and would be okay with it is almost good enough for me.

So, for now...I am educating myself. I am going to read my book. I am going to get all my ducks in a row and prioritize what is important in my life. One step at a time. I am trying to rest to take it easy for my surgery in two weeks (August 18th).

Oh, and one more thing...the very first thing I did today was to email my mother and my sister with the following:

"You both asked me repeatedly what you can do to help me, and I don't know the answer to that. So, if you really want to help, please read the "family & friends" section of the RESOLVE website. This will tell you what you can do for us better than I can tell you. Maybe if we all educate ourselves on what is happening to me, maybe we'll all be able to help one another better."

The response I got from both of them made me cry again. This time, in a good way.

19TH NERVOUS BREAKDOWN

Never got to see the ultrasound video.

My sister and her husband got into a tiff, which prevented the video from ever getting airplay. By the time everyone went to bed in the cottage, I was emotionally drained from a long day with the family.

As I was lying in the pull-out sofa bed, staring up at the ceiling, I could feel it all starting to boil over. It was so hot and humid in the cottage. There was sweat dripping from my forehead and down my back. I am used to sleeping in the comfort of my air conditioned bedroom, so the heat was killing me. Mosquitoes kept buzzing in my ear, my hair, around my nose. I am getting eaten alive, I kept muttering to Anthony. "I want to go home," I kept helplessly repeating to him, over and over.

I wonder if the trigger for this most recent breakdown was simply the memory. The last time I found myself in this situation was July 3, the eve of the miserable ending of IUI #1. That was the last time I slept in the cottage; I knew that the IUI had tried to succeed but then failed miserably, and I knew that the ending was imminent. I was in so much pain that night one month ago, and here I was again in the same bed, the same room, feeling a lot of the same feelings coming back.

Then it happened - the last thing I ever, ever, EVER wanted to happen.

I started to cry.

It is two o'clock in the morning and I am in bed, crying, in a tiny cottage that is currently sleeping eight people. Needless to say it didn't take long for someone to notice.

My mother was sitting on the edge of my bed within minutes, starting to rub my arm and ask me if I am okay.

I can't do this here, I keep thinking. Not now, not here. I just can't.

"Are you okay?" she continued to ask.

Can't...do...this....NOT now.

I finally fling the sheets off from on top of me and run as fast as I can to the bathroom to escape, because I simply don't know how to respond to her question. Am I okay? NO! NO, I am not fucking okay!!!!! Hasn't anyone been paying attention? HELLO, PEOPLE!!!

Either not realizing that I am trying to get away, or simply not allowing me to get away, my mother follows me into the bathroom. This is the point where I just LOSE it.

I start to sob...and sob...and sob. Not a quiet kind of sob, either, a very loud wake up every house on the lake kind of sob. She is grabbing me and holding me to her and rubbing my back and crying too. "I'm so sorry, Dawn," she keeps repeating to me, and it is not long before she is sobbing too. "I hate that this is happening to you and I want to fix it for you and I don't know how, and I can't DO anything for you. I want to help you and I CAN'T."

And I stand there, in her hug, and I cry...and I cry...and I cry.

My mother, you must understand, does not show affection like this. Hugs and kisses were not the norm in our house, she had her own ways of showing us how much she loved us. For her to hold me so tight, for so long, and let me cry, and cry with me, was.....well, I don't know, important.

It didn't take long before there was another shadowy figure in the bathroom, a pregnant shadowy figure. This is ESPECIALLY what I didn't want.

You see, I look at pregnancy as being one of the happiest times in a person's life. My sister is entitled to that happiness, with no strings attached; she is entitled to enjoy every moment of her pregnancy without feeling awkward or uncomfortable because of my plight. Her entrance into this little drama unfolding in the bathroom is exactly what I didn't want. Not to mention that it is her birthday.

She stood there crying too and just said "I don't know what to do, Dawn."

I thought about this for a few minutes and decided to scold her. This was the first time I had caught my breath from crying for almost fifteen straight minutes. "For starters," I said, "you need to not fight with Kevin, because all that is going to do is raise your blood pressure and that is bad for the baby!"

"I know," she said...."I know...."

The two of them went back and forth at this point, telling me they are so worried about me, telling me that I need to take care of myself, telling me that they want to help me and they don't know what to do. They said they have no idea what I am going through because they've never been through it themselves. They said they can't imagine what the pain must feel like, what the disappointment must feel like. So I tried to explain it to them.

Very calmly, I said, "Every single month, for the last twenty-six months, there is at least one moment, usually several moments, where there is a glimmer of hope that maybe this will be the month. Maybe this is when it is going to really happen. And as much as you know that getting your hopes up is a potentially bad idea, you just can't help it. And what is at stake is a person, a family member that you haven't met yet, but that you already love so dearly. And you start to anticipate their arrival, because there is a glimmer of hope each and every month and you just can't help it.

And then it doesn't happen.

And it feels like death. The baby you have imagined, the baby you have already fallen in love with even though you have never seen his face, has been ripped away from you. Try to imagine the way you have felt in the past when you have been informed that a loved one, a family member, has DIED. Because that is what you feel. Because even though you have never met your baby, you have lost it, and you MOURN.

I mourn once a month, EVERY month. And I have mourned for twenty-six straight months in a row. And each month it snowballs with intensity.

THAT is exactly how it feels."

They both stood looking at me in stunned silence.

Long moments passed, and my mother started crying again. "That is just so awful," she said. "I can't imagine." She continued to cry.

"I feel so awkward around you sometimes, and I don't know what to do," Eileen said.

"I don't want you to. Really. All I want you to do is take care of yourself so that you are taking care of my godchild."

They both continued on for a long time, repeating that they just want to help me and don't know what they can do. I told them that I don't know either, but if I thought of some way that they could help I would let them know, but that I also don't have the answers.

I am happy and grateful that they care, and in a way it makes me feel good that maybe they are starting to "get it," because there are days that I feel like no one has a clue what I am going through.

But as far as how they can help me? That I don't know. I don't have an answer to that question.

Unless they can give me a baby, I don't think they can do anything to help me with this problem.