tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61363172430866947062024-03-13T07:54:04.664-07:00Patient SubfertilityJust another infertility blog.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.comBlogger165125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-26755465285875951622016-08-21T18:41:00.001-07:002016-08-21T19:41:07.311-07:00The Lessons of Infertility*warning: pregnancy update* Third trimester. Crazy, maybe this is actually going to happen this time. It's been really hard to wrap my brain around after all these years.<br />
<br />
It's hard to get away from the place of FEAR that infertility places
you in. When you live in a place babies die, when you are the 1%
statistic time and time again, it's easy to keep Googling and to run
your own scaremonger local news feed in your head about everything that is about
to go wrong. I've chosen not to go there. I don't live in that place
anymore. I can't control that stuff. It took this much loss to figure that out.<br />
<br />
It's also easy to live in the place of BITTERNESS that infertility places you in. It's easy to remember how so-and-so <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/12/thanks-for-something.html">didn't even text</a>. It's easy to focus on <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2016/01/unsubscribe.html">how people were out</a> when <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/11/heartless-gossip.html">things got tough</a>, and now they suddenly think they deserve to be in my life now. I don't live there anymore either. Most people in my life couldn't deal with what I was going through, and I include <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/08/how-infertility-has-made-my-life-smaller.html">myself</a> and my husband in that category. Hell, only one or two met whatever unrealistic and constantly changing expectations I had at that moment. Maybe others were terrible, like I was to them for all those years to preserve myself. I choose not to live there either. Grief is not a reaction that can be judged kindly. There was no good answer. There was no good solution. Pregnancy has wiped this clean. I am letting it take away the bitterness. I choose to accept love given to me. I choose not to be bitter anymore.<br />
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You can't make it through what we went through and come out the same. I can remember way, way back, the first time I was pregnant, five years ago. On the second try. It wasn't even very long, but I had already bought all these books, researched everything down to the bath towels and the baby monitors, all of which is now obsolete. Dear god they release baby stuff all the time!<br />
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And so I found myself looking at a former version of myself in the sad Amazon wishlist of what used to be a very, very Type A person. Who the hell has time for all those books? I'm not that person anymore. We don't have most stuff yet. People will give us stuff, we can buy stuff. It's just stuff, I'm not worried. This is the kind of sentence old me would have panicked and judged. She would have called this bad parenting. She would find it ridiculous that I would put this off and don't have an oxygen meter or a changing table scale or something. But I know now that what matters is what I can't control, and I no longer seek out worry and problems.<br />
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I've released so much control, I've completely changed my life. I quit my corner office, expense account job, and I managed to make more money and control my own life. I'm pretty good at yoga, well, I used to be until the doctor made me quit.<br />
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The waiting room of a high risk MFM at a specialty hospital might be even worse than the waiting room at the IVF clinic. Most everyone drove in for hours or flew in, and is in waiting hell where babies die. I'm familiar with that place. Me, I just drove a few minutes and I'm feeling pretty good because I choose to. I know that with my blood clotting issues, this can go left at any moment. And we will deal with it. There's no point in being upset about what I can't change. I have done everything I can and gotten the best care I can. I have released control.<br />
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I finally feel what I longed for all these years. I feel like a mother. I feel like the universe is full of love and life. I have a marriage that has survived a journey many couldn't. And I know that whatever comes next we will handle. There are flashes where I am so grateful that it was so hard so that I would appreciate it so much and so that other problems would just seem silly. I have never been happier in my life. Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-80144416511079761122016-04-13T09:21:00.001-07:002016-04-13T09:24:02.750-07:00Choked UpA little over a year ago, we rolled up the same clinic, the same dildo cam, and there was <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/03/no-heartbeat.html">no heartbeat.</a> We were both silent. I was thinking logistics of how I was going to take Cytotec again, because I am supposed to be on a plane on Thursday.<br />
<br />
Tech asked the standard questions about prenatals or if I needed the info sheets. We were dismissive and silent, she knew we had seen some shit.<br />
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She started the scan and was very silent. <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/03/no-heartbeat.html">Done that before.</a> I was sitting in silence, waiting for her to get the doctor, she still didn't say anything. Then, without warning, she hit a switch, and there was heartbeat! THERE WAS A HEARTBEAT!<br />
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I felt it in my throat and I started to choke up. I didn't even hear what else she said. Something about the rate of the heartbeat being excellent, measurements perfect, a perfect seven week scan. Maybe fifth time is a charm.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-67753676189352145112016-04-08T16:03:00.001-07:002016-04-08T16:04:08.562-07:00ResignationI haven't even cried for what is probably another failed pregnancy. I think maybe I have finally accepted that I have no control over this and that this is just how it goes for me. I have resigned myself to my fate.<br />
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I went to the dog park and googled furiously on my phone for over an hour. Someone tried to talk to me and I didn't even acknowledge them. My dog would not leave my side, even at the dog park. She stayed in front of me, even seemed to be putting herself in front of me when dogs would approach. She refused to play with the dogs.<br />
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My HCG/timing/ultrasound make zero sense. The HCG is WAY too high and yet there is no fetal pole and no yolk sac. This would put me in the 1% of pregnancies (done that before with the ectopic!) I guess it's possible this can still work. It's possible the ultrasound tech is a moron. It's possible the blood test was wrong. It's possible the ultrasound was broken. It's possible this is (another) 1% baby. There's nothing I can do until the scan next week.<br />
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I don't feel hope anymore. I feel the darkness coming back that tells me this will never work, and that I was never meant to be a mom anyway. And now I have stood up the adoption lady in my naive excitement -- you
would really think an infertility veteran like me would know better.
Maybe I can't even try for a CPS kid now. Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-44170812734229997452016-04-06T14:30:00.002-07:002016-04-06T14:30:35.797-07:00No CharmsMaybe the fifth time is not a charm.<br />
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This should have been a six week scan. We barely said a word on the drive. We hadn't been to the IVF clinic together in a year, and <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/03/no-heartbeat.html">that did not go well</a>. Last time I was there was for a quick scan to make sure my spring 2015 cytotec adventure went to plan. The blood test didn't match the ultrasound, which didn't match the dates. Maybe the whole thing is fucked. HCG is way too high at seven weeks, but there is no yolk sac. <br />
<br />
I was very calm during the whole discussion. I didn't even ask any questions -- in my head I was thinking of which method of abortion I would choose this time. I felt very matter of fact, like I was choosing options on a used car. My voice didn't even waver.<br />
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I went back to work, I talked on the phone. Nothing I can do until the scan next week anyway. I do know that it's easier to do this when there's no heartbeat. Or maybe the other times just took so much of me I can't feel anything anymore.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-1273647991903118242016-03-26T12:46:00.004-07:002016-03-26T12:49:12.451-07:00Fifth TimeThings are happening. I have an adoption meeting on Thursday, we agreed to thaw an embryo in July, depending on what happens with adoption. We should easily be able to do a home study or whatever else they make us do. Things are moving forward and going well. I haven't been charting or taking all these supplements or my blood thinner (<a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2016/02/a-tepid-love-letter-to-lovenox.html">except on planes!</a>) or worried about any of it. One way or another, something is going to happen because we are going to make something happen.<br />
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And then I had a dream. That I was pregnant.<br />
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So I tested, the day before Easter Sunday. SCREAMING POSITIVE.<br />
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And suddenly I was filled with all the love in the world, as if this is what were meant to be. Easter has always had special religious significance in my house, and it's like I could feel my grandmother. It's been a long time since I could feel her. Suddenly, this feels like it could all be real. Maybe after over four years, this could be me.<br />
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You know what they say, fifth time is a charm.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-85664128990178264882016-03-10T10:35:00.000-08:002016-03-10T10:35:07.465-08:00Evolving Thoughts on AdoptionFrom since I was a teenager, I always thought I would adopt. Ethiopia, specifically. But I also thought I would never get married, be a bad ass career woman who jets between cities out of a suitcase, and never have children, so there was that.<br />
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When we started this journey in 2012, Sperm Donor wanted a biological child. That was how he felt, and that was that. For four years I have fought nature, science, God, and time to make this work. Maybe this isn't the correct path.<br />
<br />
Both of our families are full of screw ups and morons. We are the most successful on either side, by a long shot. It's clearly not our genetics. We're not particularly good looking, we don't have the greatest health. Why are we holding onto this idea? We are at a complete impasse over whether to use two or one perfect, genetically tested embryos, and THIS DOESN'T FEEL RIGHT.<br />
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I was inspired by <a href="https://zerotozygote.wordpress.com/2016/02/15/on-grief-and-moving-on/">Zero to Zygote</a> and I sat down with my Sperm Donor and we had a real, serious conversation. We haven't done this in a long time, generally agreeing infertility just isn't there. But maybe this is stupid. Even if we do ever manage to have a living biological kid, there's no guarantee that kid will be like us, instead of the rest of our screw up families. We are interracial anyway, so this kid could never look like either of us. Any kid we introduce to our family will be in an interracial situation in a superdiverse city. I think we agreed.<br />
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We have resources. We have a nice house, a fat college fund for this kid, a huge, loving, megadiverse extended family. We can afford to send this kid to one of the best schools in the nation, and we can get this kid in. (I've been working on that one since before I started trying.) We both went to mediocre public schools, but our kid doesn't have to. We have legacy at three elite universities between us. Maybe there's a kid out there who needs that? Maybe there's some whip smart kid who is about to fall through the cracks, and when they see that kid, they will know where to send that kid?<br />
<br />
I made an appointment for the information seminar about CPS placements. Hopefully, I can find someone to talk to about this idea. <br />
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Maybe this is an incredibly naive view of adoption. Maybe I'll get laughed out. Maybe you don't get to pick the features you want, like a used car. Maybe adoption from sad child abuse situations isn't focused on college legacy admissions. But I care about one thing, my kid being smart as hell. That's all I want. We can work through anything else. I don't care what color that kid is, I don't care boy or girl. If I got a crazy smart three year old, I know I could take that kid to the next level. Maybe CPS needs us?Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-59538276293432930212016-03-01T19:53:00.003-08:002016-03-01T19:53:56.570-08:00#notblessedI need to just get off Facebook. A monologue about getting pregnant five minutes after getting birth. OMG, we had no idea this would happen. Maybe we should have read the books, tee hee. I know so many people are struggling, and I am so grateful! #blessed<br />
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And it's true. #blessed for that. How else could that happen? It's true that we can't control so many things, that this isn't all my fault, luck, God, blah blah. But if that is #blessed, what does that make me?<br />
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God loves you and your alcoholic husband so much that you get two accidental babies, and here I am four years later. Does this mean I don't deserve blessings? Clearly I am not #blessed. Maybe I never will be. I am not sure what it takes to deserve blessings, but clearly I don't have it.<br />
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I've always had a strained relationship with spirituality, and when God took my baby and my tube four years ago, that was an all time low. Since then, I have struggled mightily with this concept. I am not worthy of blessings. I do not deserve children, like everyone else seems to. Why is everyone else blessed with what seems so easy?<br />
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So, if your pregnany is #blessed, I guess I am #notblessed. Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-41120974332053203692016-02-24T14:43:00.001-08:002016-02-24T14:50:15.957-08:00Insurance is My New Hobby & A Glimmer of Good News<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/ba/b7/ec/bab7eccad02b411ec2435fc27dce1a7b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/ba/b7/ec/bab7eccad02b411ec2435fc27dce1a7b.jpg" width="200" /></a>After the insurance company started <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/12/insurance-battle.html">jacking me around</a>, I was totally lost. How can an insurance plan both cover and exclude IVF? It makes no sense! I paid a TON of money for this insurance, and now they are saying they don't even cover the reason I signed up for it? Health insurance is screwed up in the US, people. Seriously screwed up. But you probably already knew that.<br />
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Well, I'm barren with nothing better to do, so I have made the insurance company my new hobby. I am nearing what is called "exhaustion," which means I have almost done all I can within the insurance company. It is appropriately named. I did every claim separately, I appealed, appealed, appealed, met every deadline, provided every document. I faxed hundreds of documents to a half dozen people and agencies. There's even a delightful laproscopic photo of my deformed lady bits I always include.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRJHe-8gmsTNOqhUPwVayFlEcBVqDNWhCRnrclHELu4kI6aVGY5Mw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRJHe-8gmsTNOqhUPwVayFlEcBVqDNWhCRnrclHELu4kI6aVGY5Mw" width="150" /></a>I got the state involved. I now have something called an ombudsman. The first round didn't work with the state, but hell no, I'm not done. The second round has been out for months, I think even the state is confused. It is now on responses to responses to responses. There are a lot of forms involved, a lot of people. I am annoying as hell, but I'm not going anywhere. I've got all day, and I can get a lot louder.<br />
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The next step would be to lawyer up and sue, and that's where I'm out of my depth. This has to be in federal court and has some kind of process called ERISA, and I am TERRIFIED of losing my anonymity in a public court. There's also maybe one more state appeal.<br />
<br />
But something good happened!<br />
<br />
While I was screaming very loudly, the insurance coughed up some cash! They paid for the scans, the non-embryology labs, most of the drugs, and every itemized part they could, down to the hydrocodone and the Crinone. That left my bill at about $8,000, and about half of that is CCS, which we knew would be out of pocket anyway, plus the straight fertility drugs, about $3,000, and anesthesia. The anesthesia bill is in collections, so it's either the $550 cash price or the $1000 billed to insurance price. No idea.<br />
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I think this is intended to back me off. And don't get me wrong, this is pretty awesome. But I made it this far. The insurance company LIED to me. I'm fighting for the women who don't have the resources I have, and I'm not going to shut up until they make me.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-88024676725002044292016-02-01T15:37:00.000-08:002016-02-01T15:43:02.882-08:00A Tepid Love Letter to LovenoxNow that I have some blood clotting nonsense, I have $1,400 worth of Lovenox injection in the top shelf of my closet which nobody has ever explained. I take it sometimes, when it seems like it might matter. Plane rides. Ovulation. A couple weeks until my period comes. Then I give up a while. Sometimes I take some aspirin. It has no side effects, so, whatever.<br />
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Sperm Donor asked why I keep taking it, and well, I don't want a blood clot on a plane. I fly more than once a week, and that would be a shitty way to die. Thanks infertility! At least you saved me from dying on a plane from a blood clot. After all I've been through, THIS is not how I'm going to die, and THIS is not going to be how I lose another baby.<br />
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Lovenox is physically a tough shot, worse than any in IVF. (Except maybe PIO? I never had that one.) Lovenox's needle is thick, and the medicine is gel. Bonus, there's an air bubble at the end! The packaging says the air bubble will reduce bruising. This is a lie. My stomach is always covered in bruises. I done it fast, I've done it slow, 45 degrees, lying down, cold press, whatever, doesn't help. Sometimes I hit a part that is too hard, even for this nasty needle. I think this is literally scar tissue from Lovenox. I think IVF has literally left me scarred.<br />
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The weirdest thing I noticed was that I can't even feel the needle anymore. I look for a soft spot and just do it. Watching the needle go into flesh, it seems like it's someone else, because I don't even notice. What? I CAN'T EVEN FEEL THIS GIANT SHOT ANYMORE. Maybe needles don't actually hurt that much, and it was in my head? Or maybe my stomach has been through so much, that it is literally numb now. Like me, I guess.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-66900428931735882142016-01-25T13:38:00.003-08:002016-01-25T13:38:46.110-08:00UnsubscribeI unsubscribed finally from the October 2015 Babies message board digest. I guess I stayed on this long to torture myself. Hell, I'm not even in line for an October 2016 baby. There's nothing to say, there's nothing to plan. I've unsubscribed from all of this. Unsubscribe.<br />
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The insurance battle is still going. The state is involved, it's this giant mess. I might have to hire a lawyer, which would cost more than just paying the IVF, which I think is what they are betting on. Unsubscribe.<br />
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Hermione is now the most annoying OMG MOM on Facebook. I stopped responded to her OMG MOM texts altogether a couple weeks ago. I gave a her a little room with a new baby, but why put effort into someone who doesn't even care about me? Don't need this one-sided conversation. Unsubscribe.<br />
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My mom finally had the courage to harass me about IVF again, and I told her that I thought four dead babies was enough. That seemed to shut her up. Unsubscribe.<br />
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I spent a whole day with my sister, who didn't even return a text after my miscarriage, and she was delightfully in her own world with her kids' soccer/ballet/whatever it is people with healthy kids worry about. That was nice.<br />
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And again I find myself wishing I had TOLD LESS PEOPLE about IVF. Sure, if it had taken a year or whatever, maybe it would have been nice to have the support. But now, four years later, it's just this awkward elephant that follows me around and no one talks about. It hurts even more to think how many people know about my suffering and say nothing, do nothing, and just don't give a shit. It would be less painful to just be alone in this suffering.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-7410069057557888892016-01-17T13:18:00.001-08:002016-01-17T13:19:42.024-08:00Facebook FloodsTwo babies born last week, and that makes everyone. Everyone but me.<br />
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I lived with the same five girls for most of college. Our last year, we all bet who of the six of us would get married/have kids first. The bet was always on me to be last, but I don't think anyone imagined it going like this. The last of the five had a baby last week. She must have been in the freaking car home from the hospital and had already posted a bunch of political shit about maternity leave and complained about whatever breastfeeding details people with healthy babies complain about.<br />
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And my friend from grad school. The one who never called back after I almost got taken out by my first pregnancy in 2012. She had her baby last week. I'm sure she's already in size 4 jeans ago, because that's how life goes for her.<br />
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I need to stop checking Facebook. It just makes me feel even more alone. How can everyone be so UNGRATEFUL for their babies? Why does everyone just kvetch all the time? And I am left behind. No shock there.<br />
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In 2016, I am facing reality. I don't feel like this is my year. I think I have finally wrapped my brain around that this might never happen to me. I might lose a few more babies, it might kill my marriage, my sex life, my vacation schedule, I don't know. There's not much left for infertility to take. I can't feel it for 2016. I'm not sure I can feel it at all. Maybe this is just not meant to be.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-36059020483372554132015-12-27T15:30:00.001-08:002015-12-27T15:30:30.091-08:00Merry ChristmasCould have been worse, I guess.<br />
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My family barely talked to each other, like usual. We talked about the weather and work, like usual.<br />
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His family was so far away. His cousins <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/11/heartless-gossip.html">all know</a> but don't give a shit. I used the trowel in the tamale assembly line. Using a trowel is controversial, so they gave it to me because I have no strong opinions about tamale construction. That was kind of fun, and I thought the trowel worked better. <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/12/thanks-for-something.html">Bisabuela</a> wasn't there. There was hot chocolate, yay, instead of being stuck with that gross guava drink.<br />
<br />
A cousin announced a pregnancy with her 50 year old boyfriend. This year, he had custody of the 15 year old, who was about to blow a vein with this joyous news. There was Hermione's baby and Fancypants's baby. There also seemed to be a lot more toddlers, just a ton of people. So many people, and no one said shit. We talked about the weather and work. And it was fine. I mean, I'm not sure why I spend time with these people. There are so many of them and I don't even know their names, but whatever, it's a few hours at Christmas, and Sperm Donor has always been the golden child and they like it when he comes back once a year, and maybe an Easter here or there.<br />
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Christmas dinner with just Sperm Donor, his parents, and his siblings was going well. Of course, all we talked about was the baby, is there anything else people talk about? But then the drinks started flowing... Hermione's husband, I'll call him Harry, is not very likable, and he's the guy who will sit in the corner with the phone. I guess someone at the big gathering had asked him how long they were trying (WTF?) and here we go with the bragging. Sitting right next to his sister in law, and he knew about at least two losses.<br />
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Hermione's baby was an accident, and they didn't even want kids. And HAR HAR he shouldn't have been surprised because Harry's other two kids (with two different women) were surprises. Harry was a surprise, hell, I even heard Sperm Donor was a surprise, and then I just cut him off. I didn't want the rest of the story, I didn't need his punchline. Mid-sentence, I screamed over him WHAT A FUNNY STORY in the most obvious sarcastic tone that even he would understand. And I pulled a straight diva move and went into the same back room to cry again. Sperm Donor was pissed and told everyone we were leaving. He took my side this time, I was pleased with that.<br />
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In the back room, I cried. I cried for Christmas AGAIN. I cried for everyone pregnant, I cried for everyone having what I can't have. I cried for all the dead babies. I cried for the frozen babies that we can't decide to even unfreeze. Then I made a big mistake, I checked Facebook. Everyone is either pregnant or posting pictures of their kids. Merry Christmas to me.<br />
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I calmed down, we went back to Christmas and watched a football game. And we talked about the weather, work, and football. Like usual.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-88672084580205185402015-12-23T10:15:00.002-08:002015-12-23T12:25:31.670-08:00Miscarriage on "Transparent"I'm generally sick of infertility on TV. It pops up where I don't want it, like Into The Woods being based on some desperate baker's wife to get pregnant, or an ectopic being a dramatic medical complication on Gray's Anatomy or a miscarriage neatly tying up a Big Love plotline.<br />
<br />
But I just watched the second season of Transparent on Amazon, and O.M.G. This has spoilers, so if you haven't seen it, go watch it. This post will wait. Just go watch it, if you can handle VERY adult content and a show that tries to make you uncomfortable whenever it can. SPOILER ALERT. I stayed up all night watching this season. This show is about gender identity and graphic sex, so a sensitive portrayal of loss wasn't what I was expecting.<br />
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This miscarriage was dead on. The ultrasound tech, "let me get the doctor," the look on her face, and I felt that feeling that can't be described. Vomiting on the floor at crossfit, get that one too. Running off the road and having a panic attack. Insisting we get pregnant RIGHT NOW. The ticking clock. Insisting we take a minute to "breathe." Wanting to do it "right." Wailing at a public event and blaming some stupid shit for killing the baby. Screaming in grief. Narcissistically blaming myself. Blaming the evil eye. Strangers looking uncomfortably, not sure what to say. Your own sister completely useless in your grief. O.M.G. Done all that.<br />
<br />
I've done and said and felt all those things from all those characters. Well, not eating lunch meat at the grocery store, that's gross haha. When he vomited on the floor at Crossfit, I was already crying. I was so moved by this portrayal of miscarriage and for all the reactions it brings out. So moved. Got no sleep. This one was exactly right.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-37994109043138228492015-12-21T11:57:00.001-08:002015-12-21T11:57:38.127-08:00Insurance BattleThe insurance appeal has gone to hell. I'm in some weird overlap of Obamacare and the state regs, and I'm just being punked at this point. The bill was way lower than I expected, only 9K for the doctor part!, but I'm pissed now. I think I'm going to have to sue them.<br />
<br />
So as I was gathering up all my documents and receipts, my god that appeal was sent in August?, I just felt so ANGRY. That everyone else just has some wine and Netflix and gets their baby, and I am going to be freaking suing an insurance company for Christmas. It's not fair. It's all not fair.<br />
<br />
Last night, I saw where I had hung the Christmas lights. I put up the hooks last year when I was PUPO, just barely out of reach. Why did I get on a step stool and go out in the cold when I was PUPO? Why did I have that tea? Why did I use the scented shampoo? It's all my fault.<br />
<br />
I was very naive for thinking a health insurance plan that said it would cover infertility actually would. This process has brutally taken my naivete in many ways. I wouldn't wish an insurance battle on anyone.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-64773290902011321212015-12-10T17:11:00.001-08:002015-12-10T17:11:24.667-08:00Not So High RiskSix months after my scary <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/06/i-cant-have-lupus.html">lupus tests</a>, I finally got a consult with a MFM. He was young and good looking. Maybe the most patient and start seeming doctor I've met with ever. I was surprised he was a dude, he has a unisex name, haha. At this point, I don't really care who sees my goods.<br />
<br />
My lupus thing means exactly what I thought it did. I am a hair away from the clinical diagnosis of antiphopholipis syndrome, APS. He seemed unconcerned. Lovenox, no big deal. He seemed to think twins wouldn't be a big deal either.<br />
<br />
This isn't the response I was expecting. I told sperm donor, and he freaked out and said we can't possibly have twins. So now we are at an impasse. Medically, everything seems fine. But we can't agree on what to do with the frosties. One second I want to impant two. The next I want to hire a surrogate. The next I just want to do nothing.<br />
<br />
Mostly, I'm scared. The idea of losing another heartbeat doesn't sound like something I could survive. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to keep going.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-67945114654771405392015-12-01T20:49:00.002-08:002015-12-01T20:49:48.744-08:00Thanks for SomethingThanksgiving was all about the OMG baby, of course. I did a lot of the work. And everything was about the baby. Baby. Baby. Baby.<br />
<br />
Of course, the baby is perfect. It will eat from any device. It will sleep in any location. It will make some kind of face. It's perfect. And then she said that it had sperm donor's eyes. She said her baby had my husband's eyes.<br />
<br />
I was filled with this fucking rage of how dare she. How dare she steal everything I ever wanted. How dare she walk in here like nothing happened. How dare she not even fucking text when my baby is dead. How dare she not give a shit about the hell I am walking through. How dare she mock me and all my loss by saying her baby looks like my husband's. IT'S NOT MY HUSBAND'S BABY BECAUSE THAT BABY IS DEAD.<br />
<br />
A few minutes later, when we were still talking about the baby, because what else do people talk about?, I went the back room and cried. The same room I cried in when I saw her pregnant belly for the first time so long ago. Maybe they could even hear me this time. I don't even care. This is real.<br />
<br />
Bisabuela was even worse. She told stories of that baby and Fancypants's baby (who isn't even blood related to her) and then related them back to the billion other babies in the family. She looked me in the eye as if she didn't know, when she's the worst. Oh, and when are we having a baby? You'll have to ask God. He took the others.<br />
<br />
Sperm donor said he thought the comment about his eyes was flattering. He would. He's all about that.<br />
<br />
And maybe some of this is a cultural barrier. I've lived as an interloper in a Mexican family for a long time, and have had very few issues, none once married. The issues I had were sitcom level jokes about the language barrier. But I think this one might be cultural. I think there might not be a language of loss for this. I think there might not be words for the struggle for what I am going through. Worse, I think they might blame me (not that I give a shit).<br />
<br />
But I feel stabbed through the heart by the way I have been treated.<br />
<br />
I could just completely skip Christmas and no one would give a shit. I understand now why people go on cruises or go to Paris or something for Christmas. I get it.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-16136786678979675232015-11-24T11:03:00.001-08:002015-11-24T11:03:30.312-08:00ANGRYIt's almost Thanksgiving where I will get to revel in the royal first grandbaby, and my babies are still all dead or frozen. And I am so angry at my in-laws.<br />
<br />
Nobody cared about <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/10/forgotten-due-dates.html">my due date.</a> Not when the first grandbaby was born within days of it. Nobody sent a text. Nobody picked up a phone. Nobody gave a shit. It's just the gossip topic du jour that everyone knows and no one reaches out to me.<br />
<br />
My mind just keeps sitting here marinating on this. It makes my stomach sick. It makes my jaw clench up. I am in this much pain and no one gives a shit.<br />
<br />
Really, this isn't different than last year. Nobody gave a shit then either. Nobody texted or anything. But last year, I was in a more hopeful place, I think. I remember last year <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2014/12/ghost-of-christmas-future.html">looking at the Christmas tree </a>in the fertility clinic that I was blown away that I was still here, so many years later. I thought I could at least be pregnant this year. I didn't know that I could lose a heartbeat, be diagnosed with some fucked up blood thing, and be completely hopeless. You would think I would know things could go left quickly given how this started.<br />
<br />
It is different than last year. I need family. I need support and love and compassion from somewhere. I thought I had a family. I thought my in-laws were like a real family, but it's clear I don't belong, and that I won't get any backing here.<br />
<br />
I can't decide what to do for Thanksgiving. Just not go? Confront everyone? Make some sarcastic smart ass comments? I do know they will not be getting anymore information because clearly it does not matter to them. I just have to decide if this will poison our relationship forever. I feel so betrayed.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-73831157843343667602015-11-09T18:24:00.002-08:002015-11-09T18:24:12.368-08:00Heartless GossipI was talking to a friend who knows a friend of Fancypants. She updated me on my own family's gossip. That long telephone game with people who this is none of their business resulted in a mostly accurate rendition of about half my fertility struggles. From a woman who is in my family --- and is snuggling a fucking newborn right now.<br />
<br />
Conclusion is that I get a pass on baby shit. Gee thanks.<br />
<br />
Nobody picked up a phone or even said shit. Everyone knew. Nobody said shit.<br />
<br />
Talk about the worst kind of gossip. Passing my pain around along and not having an ounce of compassion to try to be there for me? To say I'm sorry? I'm praying for you? Hell, I'd even take the well-meaning offensive shit people say (just relax?) over just whispering behind my back and saying nothing.<br />
<br />
In my family, no one has been there for me. <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/04/too-sad-even-for-moms-gossip.html">My mom</a> always has been useless. My sister didn't even return the text when I told her there was no heartbeat. I guess after this many she had no fucks left to give. My own husband didn't <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/10/forgotten-due-dates.html">remember the due date</a>.<br />
<br />
His family is clearly <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/10/forgotten-due-dates.html">useless</a> too. Not only doing nothing to be there or give a shit, but actively gossiping around this story. I really thought I was close to <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2014/08/mothers-and-mothers-in-law.html">my in-laws</a>. In some ways, more than my own parents. But not now. I'm an outsider. They will never be there for me. In so many ways, I'm on my own. Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-90962398276177892632015-10-24T15:06:00.001-07:002015-10-24T15:06:28.549-07:00Forgotten Due DatesMy due date would have been October 21. I made my in-laws a freaking frame with that date. October 21. Sperm donor didn't remember it. He never remembered any of them. The only one who did was G, probably because she's the only real world person who reads my blog haha.<br />
<br />
I have three missed due dates now: January 20, August 11, and October 21. I just need a late spring one and I'll have a whole quarterly dividend schedule of pain. It took me a minute to remember the old ones. That's a good thing. But those dates will never leave me.<br />
<br />
I was hurt that my in laws in particular didn't reach out to me. I mean I never expected <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2014/12/my-gossipy-mom-at-christmas.html">my mom</a> to, but I really thought my in laws would. Especially with how rough this has been with Hermione and all. But nope. Nothing. Why would they give a shit about the dead grandbaby's due date when they have the first living grandbaby?Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-18644973940164282902015-10-20T18:55:00.000-07:002015-10-20T18:55:00.321-07:00What Infertility Has Taught me.Hermione <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/10/pity-party.html">had her baby</a>, and then Fancypants <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/08/a-storm-of-showers.html">had hers</a>. I got left out of the casserole duties that were rotating. You know, that unpleasantness, which clearly everyone knows.<br />
<br />
It's mindblowing to me that all this time so many people have known I was in pain and said nothing. Instead of compassion, they just talk behind my back. I guess on the plus side, I don't have to make enchiladas. Not that there was a right thing to say, and not that it would have helped, but I wish someone said something, especially my in-laws.<br />
<br />
Now, after fighting this burden, I know what to do. Even when I don't know what to do.<br />
<br />
My friend's mom died last month. I don't live near this friend anymore, but definitely a friend. I don't know how it feels to lose your mom. I never even met her mom. But I knew what the correct response was. It was what I would have wanted all of these staring family members to do, acknowledge it. I sent her a text. It said "I am so sorry." I mailed her a physical card. It was two sentences and said I was thinking of her and I was sorry. I sent her a couple more texts, just that I was thinking of her and I was sorry.<br />
<br />
A month later, I sent her a similar text. You know, right when everyone else had moved on. And she texted me back that my texts had meant so much to her. You know, those texts she didn't even respond to. Those texts didn't say anything profound or helpful. They weren't Maya Angelou quotes or advice from someone who has been there. My words could not bring her mom back, or help her work through her shit, or even say I get it, those words just said I was there and I heard her.<br />
<br />
"I'm thinking of you." is such a powerful text. It is POWERFUL to say I have heard your pain and I am connected to you. We are all connected, and sometimes that connection is what someone needs in a very dark time. Because to all my infertility sisters, I am thinking of you and I am so sorry.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-79339898825889016972015-10-17T12:32:00.000-07:002015-10-17T13:00:03.350-07:00Pity PartyAnd so I found myself in a hospital room in an L&D ward with a one day old baby. I had no idea this was a thing. If anyone needed to pony up for the deluxe room down that hall, it was Hermione. <br />
<br />
How many people could be crammed in this room? Aunties, kids, abuela (bisabuela!) came into town. They had folding chairs set up. Someone brought in food. Someone had some music playing on a bluetooth speaker. Someone was watching Netflix. Why are all these people here? What are they doing? Why don't they go home and let her get some sleep? They've been here all day!<br />
<br />
It was like I was invisible. <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/04/an-easter-lamb.html">Why am I even here? This isn't my family</a>,
and it's very obvious I don't belong. Nobody even acknowledged me when
I walked in. Instead they were ALL OVER Sperm Donor for now being an
OMG uncle, even though he's been an uncle since we got married. WTF.
And as they gushed over him being an uncle, they didn't even make eye
contact with me.<br />
<br />
All discussion was in Spanish, but I gathered that Hermione was not allowed to get up and would be in the hospital for a couple more days. She looked like hell. I saw zero medical personnel. Aside from the whiteboard with a bunch of times on it and the hospital bed, this could have been any cheap hotel. The baby was just being passed around. <br />
<br />
And then I found myself ridiculously drunk with a girlfriend, hey I took an Uber. And all I could get out between gasping crying was that it's not fair. It's not fair.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-66773026235866694212015-10-16T09:00:00.001-07:002015-10-16T09:00:20.938-07:00LaborHermione is being induced. It's some kind of emergency. That's weeks early. Maybe four?<br />
<br />
Everyone is gathering at the hospital. I guess this is a Mexican thing? It seems bizarre and invasive to me. All the aunties and cousins and everyone are leaving work to go camp out in the waiting room. WTF? I told Sperm Donor we weren't invited, and he just seemed confused as to why would need to be invited, as if it is assumed that of course we will go camp out at the hospital.<br />
<br />
Sperm Donor forgot our due date, but I haven't forgotten you, October 21st. I haven't forgotten.<br />
<br />
Maybe Sperm Donor should have married the superfertile Mexican girl he was supposed to. Then he'd have a couple kids by now, three I guess. Maybe she would have said the right prayers or lit the right candles. Maybe she would just know that you are supposed to go camp out at the hospital. Maybe she would have actually made it to L&D in one of these FOUR YEARS and the party would be for her.<br />
<br />
I went to a super difficult spinning class to try to get my mind off it, and it didn't work at all. I just ended up crying on the bike, which is a decent place to cry actually because no one is looking at you and you're dripping sweat anyway.<br />
<br />
As I was driving away, I was thinking that if I drove off the bridge, it wouldn't even matter. I'm 33. My kids are all dead, and the OMG FIRST GRANDBABY will be here. Who gives a shit about me? There's nothing special about me. There's nothing important about me. Maybe after four years, I should know that.<br />
<br />
I'm not camping out at the hospital. There's no way I can deal with this birth party with el primer nieto, and abuela, and everyone else. I'm turning off my phone, and I'm leaving. Maybe I'm going to the beach. I don't know. I have to get out of here.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-28678120831548733502015-10-01T15:53:00.000-07:002015-10-01T15:53:01.665-07:00Life Kicking Me AroundIt's been a tough couple weeks for me. I feel like life just keeps kicking me and kicking me and kicking me.<br />
<br />
Still haven't heard from the insurance appeal. <br />
<br />
My
period screwed up, and the Wondfos I bought to start IVF
are all gone. This will be my FIFTH PACK of
wondfos. That's 250 pregnancy tests. Maybe 10 actually said what I wanted them to at the right time.<br /><br />
One of Sperm Donor's bros accidentally got a girl pregnant on a one night stand when he was out of town, and he won't even go see the baby. He knew about some of our struggles, and yet this douche canoe told us this anyway-- as if he had a frat brother a state over he hadn't seen in a while. It visually upset my sperm donor. Sperm Donor walked out, very dramatic and out of character. I think Sperm Donor might have finally gotten a taste of how I feel constantly. This might be the first friend he loses over this.<br />
<br />
I got completely left out of a girls' event that meant a lot to me, and I am so sad about it. My bridesmaid uninvited me and didn't even tell me to my face or warn me. I feel so left out and HURT. But I get it. I'm a bummer and a failure and I've spent a whole year running from reality. I get it. Single girls and glowing pregnant ladies are way more fun.<br />
<br />
This is why I wish I had been more careful with who I told. Here we are years later, and it's the awkward topic no one wants to mention. I wish back on IUI #6 when I thought I needed some support that I had just kept my mouth shut. If I had known that it would follow me around for years and fuck with my friendships, I would have kept it to myself.<br />
<br />
I went to three weddings in a row, and everyone was pregnant. I guess that's normal in your early-mid thirties, it's just me who can't figure this out. They'll probably all pop back from their honeymoons pregnant too.<br />
<br />
Another friend emailed me she was pregnant, and I didn't even respond with my canned response. I just cried. Ugly cried.<br />
<br />
I finally called the MFM specialist and I can't get in until February, if they even agree to take me. I can't even start an FET cycle until that.<br />
<br />
You win, life, I give up. None of this is going to work. I can keep fighting, scheduling, write checks, but I can't fight fate. This is bigger than me, and my pain and effort mean nothing and have no power. It's not up to me, it's not up the the doctors. At some point I have to face the truth.<br />
<br />
Hermione is due in a couple weeks, and I'm still here.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-77822364535135966222015-09-20T11:40:00.002-07:002015-09-20T11:41:10.866-07:00Showered With MiraclesOn the way to <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/09/no-zen-for-shower.html">Hermione's shower</a>, which should have been mine, my mom was having none of it. This isn't about you. This is your niece. These are all people who love her, nothing is going to be about you, and this is going to be fun.<br />
<br />
We drove past my babies in the freezer. And then it was a very long drive. And then I was at a giant Mexican baby shower with a TON of people and so much going on. Why had I been worried? This wasn't about me at all. HA. I hate it when mom is right. Besides, if I talked to everyone, it would be 90 seconds of conversation.<br />
<br />
I had crafted a onesie with an inside joke, it was pretty funny. Everyone loved it in the gift opening, more than the ridiculous $200 present. And to think I literally got tears on it when I was making it last night. Ridiculous. This is happy, this isn't about me. It was wonderful. It was fun to be around so much family and with so much love.<br />
<br />
My mom had to leave, and I got a ride from <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/08/a-storm-of-showers.html">Fancypants</a> to her evening shower, hosted by one of my dear friends at night. I knew this one would be rowdier. I wasn't even invited to this one, they were being kind to me. (Her family shower was a week before). Fancypants seemed glad I was going, and you know what, it was fun.<br />
<br />
They had some dumb game where everyone, including men, put a balloon under their shirt, held a quarter between their knees, raced someone across the room, and tried to get the quarter in a bowl on the floor. It was hilarious and stupid. One of the balloons popped, and there were some distasteful miscarriage jokes. That was the only moment the whole night I felt that sting of loss. Otherwise, the whole night, I had a fantastic time.<br />
<br />
It would be unthinkable to me a few days ago that I would have spent all day at two baby showers and had a delightful time. It was great. My time will come, or maybe it won't. But the world is full of love, and if you are open, you can see it and feel it and receive it where you think it's impossible.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6136317243086694706.post-16299346860482686872015-09-17T14:21:00.000-07:002015-09-17T14:21:14.166-07:00No Zen for the ShowerMy anxiety is increasing about <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/09/skipping-shower.html">this baby shower</a> this weekend, the one that was supposed to be mine. In the mail, I got a note to get a mammogram. That means it has been a year since I escalated this journey to IVF. A year, two pregnancies, three dead embryos. Oh and the years dicking around almost dying before that. My baby would be almost three years old.<br />
<br />
I hate this. I hate this for both of us. I wish I could be what I should be, but I can't.<br />
<br />
I'm tempted to send the damn gift and say I can't attend, because it's true. I feel like I can't. Over this journey, I've learned to remove myself from situations that will be too much to handle. One year old's birthday parties. Conversations about breast pumps. Facebook. Life. I haven't been to a baby shower in two years, except <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/06/truth-will-set-you-free.html">work ones</a> I couldn't skip, with acquantainces.<br />
<br />
This will be the first time I am staring down my husband's <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2014/07/a-family-wedding.html">gossipy, awful family</a> in this context. I want to hide. My friend texted me that I am strong and brave and that I can do this. But maybe I can't? I can't even <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/04/an-easter-lamb.html">run in the back room</a> and hide if it gets rough, because this is an awful relative hosting this at a place I've never been. It's easier to handle kids than pregnant women for me. Well, kids, then babies, then pregnant women.<br />
<br />
I've been to a lot of yoga this week to try to center and zen or something. But I keep going back to this mental image that she is <a href="http://patientsubfertility.blogspot.com/2015/08/hermione.html">hugely pregnant</a>. And I'm still here.Patient Subfertilityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02818601338460813290noreply@blogger.com2