Monthly Archives: December 2012

Today I Found Seven More Gray Hairs

Well it’s been forever since I’ve blogged.  Like most posts I’ve read the past week, it’s been a wild month with all of the holiday rush and unfortunately this outlet of writing has neared the bottom of the list.  I now find myself on vacation at the coast, but with only a day left before returning to work.  And pre-mourning of course.

I’m learning more about what this pattern of pre-mourning and complete dread of returning to real life are: my life feels completely in limbo.

Besides all the cooking, hosting, partying, wrapping, and attempted-but-failed-reflecting-on-Advent of the past several weeks, there’s also been some serious decision-making.  And subsequent swings.  We decided a few weeks ago that we just weren’t quite ready to start IVF yet.  It was a week before we’d begin birth control and we were pretty sure, but just not positive.  I couldn’t imagine feeling okay with being this unsure just a week before beginning such an intense process, so we canceled the appointments and the trainings and settled on giving ourselves the three months for acupuncture and dietary changes and aiming for end of February.  I’m realizing now that said holiday bustle served as a convenient buffer from feelings about waiting.

I was feeling good, enjoying the idea of a break, brainstorming how we could make it feel restful and not just like killing time, dreaming about how to finance a little getaway to somewhere tropical.  Now that things have slowed down a bit the ache has returned.  We’re on vacation, where the past two years we were certain we would have a baby by the next.  I walked these same shores dreaming of having an infant with us next year, bringing a pack ‘n play in tow, our child getting great time with her grandparents and aunt.  This third year I’m finding myself more realistic, more guarded with my fantasies.  I begin to imagine it happening by next year, having a little one with us, but if we don’t start IVF until February, those chances are really slim and I quickly reel myself in.  If we don’t start the adoption process until then, count on two to three more Christmases without a baby.

As New Year’s Eve is here — also what would have been Day 1 of stims — I need to just call it, this year has sucked.  I’ve had some rough ones: my parents divorcing, moving 500 miles away from my dad, dealing with my crazy mother, breaking up with the love of my life (which I eventually ended up getting to marry!).  But this one goes down as the worst.  And as I look in the mirror this week I see it on my face.  Literally seven new gray hairs in the past three weeks.  (Shouldn’t the opposite be true now that we’re on a “break?”)  I’m vainly worrying that any physical beauty I did have is now behind me and that I’ll be an old, gray woman when I’m a new mother, not the perky, energetic kind wearing a yellow frilly apron that I’d imagined.  I feel like my body sucks and is failing me in this most important, female way.  Infertility has taken it’s toll in so many ways.  Not the least of which is that I’m tired of not knowing in the slightest what the next year is going to hold.

In each of the moments of returning to real life that have come at the end of a vacation the past two+ years, I thought it would all be changing soon.  I’m getting tired of that hoping, though, and realizing that, too, shouldn’t be assumed, because it hasn’t changed.  Still no baby in these arms, still hanging in at a job I’m lukewarm about, still going to appointments all the time, still seemingly zero control over our family building.  Will my life be any different this time next year, or will it still be hanging in the balance of uncertainty?  Still waiting.

Tonight I’ll drink my champagne — heck yes, thankyouverymuchbreak — and toast to 2012 being over, ushering it out gladly.  I’ll also try to breathe in and breathe out and try to welcome 2013 with whatever it does or does not bring.  While many things externally are exactly the same as last year, I do know for sure that on the inside I am a different person.  Hurt and wounded in some ways, absolutely, but also better, stronger, more grateful, aware of what I can take, learning I’m a fighter, and wanting it all even more.  Cheers to that, too.

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Today I’m Opting for Dandelion Tincture

In my last post I lamented about the digesting bitterness of dandelion tea.  Well my acupuncturist also recommended dandelion root tincture (those little drops you put in water) and — lo and behold — it barely tasted like anything!  In fact I’ve faithfully partaken (if that’s a word) most nights since then.

I’ve been noticing lately that things can seem really crappy initially, and overwhelming and impossible, but with time perspective comes and things seem to work out or at least feel more tolerable.  I have a way of working myself up initially, as if I need to worry and be wound up in order for things to make the best decision.  What if I took this laid-back, I will be okay no matter what attitude from the get-go?

Now, I’m not saying infertility isn’t serious or is something to be minimized or simply mentally overcome.  I’m just wondering if sometimes I work myself up over things prematurely.  Today something stressful was beginning to happen and I told myself out loud, “It’s okay.  Whatever happens it will work out.”  This doesn’t mean it will be easy, and — I won’t speak for you, but for me — what I have in my head tends to be way worse than it actually plays out.

Of course this switcharoo happened with the dandelion root, but I’m also beginning to notice it with other things.  Like the idea of taking a few months off before we start IVF.  As I thought more about this option last week it felt impossible, unbearable to wait.  Any.  Longer.  (Reference: Phil Davison video, watch it all but especially 2:45-3:10.)  I’m beginning to think, though, that I would be okay and maybe it would even be helpful to give my body a break, use my lighter schedule for fun things and not appointments, not talk about IF all the time, maybe resume running a little bit.  And at the very least that if we’re a month in and time off does not equal a mental or physical break, that decision can simply be undone and we can schedule IVF for the following month.  Things aren’t always so permanent and dire.  I’m kind of tired of myself for always taking things so seriously.

Then there’s the family situation I referenced a while back.  I finally took the time to address it yesterday and, within hours, someone had responded expressing understanding in my point of view and is going to bat for me.  I suddenly feel completely free from taking responsibility for that situation.  It is still as rocky as I initially perceived, but it’s not up to me to carry the burden.  Similarly with work — if things don’t unfold in a way that works for me, that’s not the end of the world, I have other options, life goes on.  Not as bad as I felt to begin with.

I’m also finding myself more in the Christmas spirit, which I definitely did not see coming two weeks ago.  This will be our third Christmas trying to conceive, third Christmas certain we will have a baby by the next one.  I was struggling to muster up the energy to care about putting up the lights and tree, preparing for our annual cocktail party, even opting for NPR over Christmas tunes.  But this week I’m feeling more at peace, partaking in some Christmas cheer (elf yourself never gets old) and enjoying the excitement of buying gifts and putting out the Peanuts nativity scene.  My killer pandora station with melancholy Christmas songs doesn’t hurt either, you know, what with “Wintersong” being more fitting for an infertile at Christmas than “Santa Clause is Coming to Town.”  (Might I suggest Mindy Smith and Sarah McLachlan holiday as seed artists?)

For whatever reason, I’ve felt happy today unlike I have in several months.  A gift, I think.  An answer to the prayers of so many people who are pleading with the Lord for relief and a baby for us.  I’m enjoying a brief reprieve from it, however temporarily, and giving myself the permission to not have it fill my mind for a few moments.  So in closing, I again turn to Phil.

“Drastic times require — what?  {Drastic measures!}  Right!  Who said that?!  Yes!  Drastic times require drastic measures!”  Infertility is serious, IVF is certainly a drastic measure, but today I’ll choose the longer-term view.  And I’ll choose the tincture approach over getting all Phil Davison about it.

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