Cards at Target

Okay, so I am going out on a limb here. My Lover is one of only two people IRL who know that I have this blog, and the only one who has the web address to read it. I wanted him to know that I was writing about our private story in this public yet anonymous space, and I wanted him to be able to read what I had to say, if and when he wants. 

So anyways, he might be reading, I don’t know. Babe - this post is about something that I am planning for you, so be warned that you might spoil the (little) surprise if you keep reading. 

I was at Target this morning, picking up ink so that we could finnish printing our Cade Foundation grant. I walked in, through all of the kids clothes noticing how cute all the little outfits are, but thinking that even if I had kids, I wouldn’t be spending tons of money on new clothes (since we’ll have all those hand me down, but also because we are pretty frugal.) I walked through the baby isle, those things get me every time, but then I thought about how fast babies grow and decided to put on a pretty pair of IF glasses and think that it was kind of nice that I get so much time to admire these sweet baby clothes without being sad that my baby is all grown up. 

I found the printer ink and headed back to check out, and walked past the cards isle. I love cards and always stop to look at the cards isle. The whole row was Fathers Day Cards. I sighed. I found a card for my dad. It was perfect and talked about what a great dad he was for me growing up and how much I still love him. I may have my issues with my dad, but I do love him, and nothing can change the fact that he was a great father while I was growing up. 

Then I saw these cards “to my husband on fathers day.” I have never seen a card like that before. I was stopped in my tracks. I pulled one of the cards up to get a closer look. I can’t remember exactly what it said, but I was hooked. I looked at every single one. 

and then I bought one. 

For My Lover.

I do love him, so much, especially on Fathers Day, because he is the only person I could ever want to experience parenthood with, because he has been so wonderful dealing with this IF journey, because he is willing to undergo examinations, and procedures, and injections so that we can become parents together, because he is patient and kind and loving and will be a most wonderful father someday.

I am going to have to edit the text of the card a little bit, since he is not a father, yet. But I am going to give it to him on Father’s Day, in celebration of our journey, and anticipation of the wonderful father that he will someday be.  

So I guess the limb I am going out on is that i feel a little like maybe this might not be an appropriate thing to do. Maybe he doesn’t want to be reminded that it is fathers day. Maybe this, Maybe that...  

As I am writing this, I am catching myself trying to guess what he might or might not want.  I was going to ask for your thoughts and ideas about how to deal with Fathers Day, and these “to my Husband on Fathers Day” cards. 

The reality is that I want this, I want to give him this card, I want him to know that I am thinking about him on this day and loving him with my whole heart. 

Sweet, its settled. and I feel great knowing that someday, My Lover will be a wonderful father. 

Foxy's Favorite Posts Shout-Out #1

In the spirit of Stir-up Queen Mel's Weekly Blog Round-up, I'd like to give a shout out to some of the awesome posts that I stumble across. So many of these posts say the things I am thinking with such beautiful and elegant prose. They are posts that I want to bookmark and visit again.  I am going to call it
Foxy's Favorite Posts Shout-Out.


Without further ado...


* * * * *
I discovered a new blogger this morning - Jackie from Beyond the Brick Wall. She has a great post about a late night Facebook conversation with an old friend. It is a great commentary on the extremely limited background knowledge that our fertile friends have about infertility. It is a great reminder that people are not intentionally cruel when they ask us questions like "when are you going to have kids?" or "why don't you just adopt".  Check it out, and let Jackie know you stopped by.


Megan at Bottoms on and Off the Table has the most incredible Infertility Art Journal. Really. Incredible. I have to keep going back to look at it, because I can really only take in one piece of work at a time.  It has been awesome to be able to read so many stories, but there is something so powerful about seeing those stories expressed visually.


Katie at her blog From IF to When wrote a great post about 'the waiting place'. Remember the Dr. Seuss book that everyone got as a graduation present, Oh! The Places You'll Go? Katie reads to us an excerpt about The Waiting Place and remind us that we need to watch out so as not to get stuck.  


"You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place…for people just waiting."



* * * * *
I am so grateful to this amazing online community. Thank you all for being so awesome, in spite of the challenges. With love and appreciation, Foxy.

The Upside of Azoos

I think about our fertility all the time. Seriously. All the time. Sometimes there are specific thoughts, other times the thoughts are generalized mobs of wordless emotions. Its like I am looking out at the world through a set of infertility glasses.  I wear the glasses all the time, but sometimes the lens of IF is much thicker than other times. Its been my goal to try and pick out the prettiest most positive frames for this pair of glasses. I think that I’ve been doing a pretty good job.

Every now and again I think to myself, gosh, there are silver linings with this Azoos. Rather than focus on all of the sad thoughts, I want to take this space to celebrate the benefits - the Upside of Azoos. Maybe you have a few to add to my list.

Career Advancement. I can do a job I really enjoy without feeling like I am giving up the ability to be with my kids. I spent so many years setting up a career that would let me work from home, but then this job opportunity came along and it was so special that I couldn’t say no. It requires so much of my time and energy, but the work is so important and I would feel so lucky that I can give so much of myself to it without feeling like I am cheating my family.

Birth control, smirth control. We’ll never have to worry about that! I can remember being on vacation once and realizing, at the wrong moment, that we hadn’t packed our bc. We’ll never have to worry about that again!

Love Children. Have you ever wondered if someday a kid will show up claiming that they are your husband’s love child? It’s the kind of thing your hear about every now and then.  I know that My Lover had a lot of fun before I met him, so I sometimes wondered… It is nice to have one less thing to worry about these days.

Hand me Downs. Bring them on! By the time we finally have kids, we’ll be getting hand me downs from everyone we know. They will all be long done having their kids and we’ll get our choice of all their best gear.

Longest Love Making Session Ever. Some guys brag about being able to last for hours. They’ve got nothing on us! I would argue that I’ve been in the most intense love making baby making session with My Lover for almost a year now. Other people brag about the love making toys they use. Yeah, well, you wouldn’t believe the love making toys that we are using.

Cocktails & Coffee. With Azoos, there is no monthly 2ww. My Lover and I relied on the pull and pray method for years before we actually started trying to conceive. I was always very aware of where I was in my cycle and cautious about the beverages I consumed during the couple weeks every month that I might be pregnant. I take delight now in every cup of coffee and every cocktail I consume knowing that I've got nothing to worry about. 

* * * * *

I've been looking at the beautiful flowers at Farmers Market for weeks. There are these little bunches of sweet peas. They are so beautiful and delicate. At my girlfriend's house the other day, I admired her sweet pea bouquet and told her about how I've been seeing the flowers at the market recently. She laughed at me and suggested that I buy myself a bunch. We laughed together when she said, its okay, you can make that decision, it's not such a big decision. With so many other big decisions consuming us lately, somehow I ran out of power to make such a simple little choice to buy myself a $3 bunch of pretty flowers. 

So yesterday, in between two fairly intense work meetings, I stopped by the farmers market and picked up a little bunch of sweet peas. I brought them to my final meeting of the day, so they wouldn't wilt in the car, and felt so proud of myself. They are sitting with me now, in a pretty little vase, emitting the most sweet subtle fragrant smell. 

So beautiful. So simple. So sweet. 

A trip to Australia by Diane Armitage

I've seen this posted here and there. I think it was originally written about adoption, but sure seems fitting for all of us grieving the ability to conceive naturally.


"Deciding to have a baby is like planning a trip to Australia. You've heard it's a wonderful place, you've read many guidebooks and feel certain you're ready to go. Everyone you know has traveled there by plane. They say it can be a turbulent flight with occasional rough landings, but you can look forward to being pampered on the trip. So you go to the airport and ask the ticket agent for a ticket to Australia. All around you, excited people are boarding planes for Australia. It seems there is no seat for you; you'll have to wait for the next flight. Impatient, but anticipating a wonderful trip, you wait--and wait--and wait. Flights to Australia continue to come and go. People say silly things like, "Relax. You'll get on a flight soon." Other people actually get on a plane and then cancel their trip, to which you cry, "It's not fair!" After a long time the ticket agent tells you, "I'm sorry, we're not going to be able to get you on a plane to Australia. Perhaps you should think about going by boat." "By BOAT!" you say. "Going by boat will take a very long time and it costs a great deal of money. I really had my heart set on going by plane." So you go home and think about not going to Australia at all. You wonder if Australia will be as beautiful if you approach it by sea rather than air. But you have long dreamed of this wonderful place, and finally you decide to travel by boat. It is a long trip, many months over many rough seas. No one pampers you. (Isn't that the truth!) You wonder if you will ever see Australia. Meanwhile, your friends have flown back and forth to Australia two or three more times, marveling about each trip. Then one glorious day, the boat docks in Australia. It is more exquisite than you ever imagined, and the beauty is magnified by your long days at sea. You have made many wonderful friends during your voyage, and you find yourself comparing stories with others who also traveled by sea rather then by air. People continue to fly to Australia as often as they like, but you are about to travel only once, perhaps twice. Some say things like, "Oh, be glad you didn't fly. My flight was horrible; traveling by sea is so easy." You will always wonder what it would have been like to fly to Australia. Still, you know God blessed you with a special appreciation of Australia, and the beauty of Australia is not in the way you get there, but in the place itself."

By Diane Armitage printed in the April 21, 1995 "Dear Abby" column.

My dad

Sitting in a coffee shop right now. It is a beautiful day. Unusually beautiful and warm. The music is so upbeat and the cafe is bustling. My mocha is delicious with whip cream and chocolate on top. I like days like today. 

I saw my therapist this morning. I really like her and am really glad I found her. I feel like she is so kind and gentle and understanding. and she doesn’t waste my time either. I have so much to get out, and she has been great at helping me frame my thoughts and fears in such a way that I can get my head around them. As opposed to the free-floating wordless emotions that are so overwhelming. I wish that I’d found her a year ago, and am glad that I kept looking and didn’t settle for someone who wasn’t a good match for what I need right now.

We talked about my dad today. A great man. Who i love dearly. But who has chosen his addiction over me and our family. I never would have brought him up, but she did, and I am glad. My issues with him have come up in strange ways as we consider donor sperm, and the role of a father. 

I’d never really thought that the things I project onto “My Lover” (yep, I’ve been thinking about what name I can use for my husband on this blog, and My Lover is perfect) might have their roots in my relationship with my dad, but it sure explains a lot to think about it like that. 

My dad is a great man, really. He was a great dad. Loved me and my sisters and my mom with his whole heart. I’ve never doubted that, not for one second. 

But he is an alcoholic. He has always been. I didn’t see it growing up, but I suppose that I knew there was something. 

I suppose that my mom did a lot to hold out family together and keep my dad held together over the years. Interesting family dynamics when I stop to think about it. My mom was our primary caregiver, the one who was in charge of everything. My dad however was the provider and definitely the man of the house. His was the final word, respected by my mom, and us girls. 

Things changed when he had his heart attack, and heart surgery. My mom decided that he could no longer smoke inside the house. And we were all more vocal about his continued drinking, since the doctor had been very clear that this incident was a warning and the repairs would only last a decade or so if he didn’t change his ways. For us it was black and white - he had to stop drinking and smoking. For him it was black and white - he wasn’t making any changes. A few years later he and my mom separated, then divorced, and he cashed out his retirement and moved across the county. Without my mom to hold him together he has made a lot of bad choices. Maybe I’ll write about that more one of these days. 

I gave up trying to call him about a year ago. He rarely answered his phone and never checked his messages. My attempts to contact him became an exercise in futility. So I quit trying. Months passed. He called me on christmas eve. It was great to hear from him, but hard to talk. He promised to call again more often

He didn’t come to my sister’s wedding in February. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that. Really. It is so hard to reconcile that this great man who was a great father can just walk away from us like this. Sometimes I think that it would have been easier had he just died. 

And them he called me a few weeks ago. We talked for a little bit. I told him that things have been really hard for us, with My Lover still being out of work, and that we are having a hard time starting our family. It sounded like he knew, so my mom or sisters must have filled him in. 

I still don’t feel like I want to try to call him. My Lover thinks that I should keep trying, that since he called me last it is my turn to call him. 

I love my dad, and I know that he loves me. I really do. But I can’t compete with his addiction. I can’t. and I don’t want to try. maybe because I know what he will choose. maybe because i don’t think I should have to. 

But as I contemplate what makes a dad a dad. andd my fears (which will remain a word-less blob of emotion). and my feelings of wanting to protect My Lover from the pain of this journey. I wonder how my feelings about my dad overlay on top of all this. 

Today is my grandpa's birthday. He passed few years ago. I miss him all the time,and can't help but think that things would be different if he were still with us. 

Wow - that got a little heavy. But Ohhh does it feel good to write! and this day is so gorgeous, so I’m heading home to get my puppy and head down to the beach. 

Taught to be Proud

In preparation for my first ICLW, I tried to write up a little something about me, but nothing came out. So instead, you get a little insight about where I come from. After 18 months of trying naturally, husband was diagnosed with azoospermia due to maturation arrest. Our Someday Story summarizes our journey thus far. Thanks for visiting!

I had to drive to the City yesterday for a work thing. It is in the car, while I am driving alone, that I do a lot of thinking. There was a point earlier on this journey when that car thinking left me in tears nearly every time I drove anywhere. But like I said last post, I am stronger this year. 

When I lost all my local radio stations, I dug thru the glove compartment to find some old CD’s to keep me company. I found an old favorite, Tea. Leaf. Green., and popped it in. The first song starts with “I was taught to be proud of where I come from”, and it got me thinking. My experience with infertility is grounded in the roots of my family and upbringing - where I come from.

My mom has spent her life working with pregnant couples and new families. For years she taught natural childbirth classes in our living room, ran a breastpump rental company out of our hall closet, and teaches new parents how to embrace their new role. We had placenta’s in tupperware in our refrigerator, blow up charts detailing the stages of labor and delivery scattered in closets, and half naked women on our couch learning how to breastfeed their newborn infants. This is where I come from. 

When I got my period, my mom hosted a menarche party to celebrate my passage to womanhood. She invited a couple of my closest girlfriends and their moms, a couple of the ladies who I babysat for, and a couple other older female family friends. They gave me little gifts to symbolize the power and wonder of being a woman. It was at a really fancy restaurant and I actually felt really special. Maybe it was that party, or my moms guidance, but I’ve always embraced my monthly cycle. I’ve trusted that my body is going to take care of me, and someday nurture new life. This is where I come from.

This year I am Stronger

I found the Cade Foundation in one of my many infertility web searches last year. Every year they offer a few family building grants of up to $10,000 to help couples build their family thru infertility treatment or adoption. The thought of ‘coming out’ and applying was too much for me to handle at the time. But this year is different. This year I am stronger.

Maybe I started feeling stronger when I came across Lily’s infertility e-class last November. (Lily authors  The Infertile Mind) I wanted to sign up, but holiday funds were tight and I wasn’t going to be near the computer enough, and, well, I had lots of excuses. It was okay though because just wasn’t quite ready.

Then Lily offered her class again in March. She titled it March Together and I loved it. I realized that I have so much to say. I realized that I needed my voice. I realized that I needed people who understood me. Every couple of days she posted a little assignment, a little question or task that helped me get my arms around this mob of thoughts that had taken over my brain,
and my life.
She broke it down into bite size pieces, so that I could start finding the right words.

I was actually scared at the start of the class to share anything. Lily made it a password protected blog and assured me that it was safe.
That I was safe.
And that what I needed to say could be said. Thank you for that Lily.
So I started writing, and writing, and writing. And ohhhhh, does it feel good. And things that I couldn’t say found their way to the computer screen, because I guess talking and writing are different somehow. And little by little, it is easier to talk about the stuff that I write about. I tested out the words in writing and if they felt okay, I tried them on verbally. Amazing how that process works.

So, Lily’s e-class was wonderful. And the March Together class was free! Instead of charging for it, she asked that we make a donation to the Cade Foundation. So I found myself back on the Cade Foundation website. They had just announced their 2010 grant cycle, and can you believe it, I applied. It was actually just a form that sad I intended to apply, but I did it. And I talked to my husband about it.
“coming out” on the application with my real name!
“talking” about the possibly of being public with our journey!

Big steps for me!

So I spent a good portion of the weekend (while I wasn't consumed reading My Bumpy Journey's entire, yes entire blog!) working on the full application that is due June 15th. I participated in the Q and A conference call this morning. I picked out a PICTURE, yep a real one!, that we will submit with our application.

I suppose I could go on and on about all of the things I thought about as I completed the application. The fact of the matter is that I am stronger and I can do this and we WILL have our someday family.

A final note of gratitude before I go.
Lily is one of those souls who touched mine. I will always remember the kindness that you showed me in our email exchange and the warmth that you exuded in welcoming me to let go and write and share. Your e-class is amazing and I hope that you keep doing it. I hope that you turn the assignments into a workbook so that I can buy it and give it to my therapist (especially the ones I don’t see anymore!). I want you to know that you opened doors for me and that I am thriving. I can’t thank you enough.

Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed.: What IF?

Whit if sharing our story can help thousands of other couples?
Check out this amazing video by Keiko Zoll.

What IF? A Portrait of Infertility from Keiko Zoll on Vimeo.

Dear Awesome Fertility Doctor

I was visiting Julie at her blog One More Time, With Feeling this morning. Nice to have coffee with you Julie! She mentioned that her doctor can't seem to remember her history, meaning that she has to repeat it over and over. I've heard this from way too many of us. Another web friend who went in for monitoring for her 5th donor IUI was asked when her husband would be coming in to leave his deposit. She described it as rubbing salt on an open wound. 

One of the first things I did after we made our first appointment with our first awesome fertility doctor was to write a letter. I needed this doctor to know how hard this was for us, and to remember that we were human. I wanted him to see us as people, and know that we were in a very delicate emotional state. I've submitted variations of this letter with almost all of the different doctors we've seen. I just ask them to read it, and add it to our file. They usually look confused by the request, but then read the letter, then soften and do a little more compassionate hand holding. I really think that it has helped. 

After reading Julie's post, Why doesn't this add up, it occurred to me that I should share my letter with you all. Feel free to make it your own.



Dear Awesome Fertility Doctor,


We were devastated to learn that we could not conceive naturally. What we expected would be an intimate, private experience has become an expensive, public, medical condition. We are hopeful that we will successfully have our own family, and grateful for the innovations in assisted reproductive technology.

Everything about this process is overwhelming. We appreciate your kindness and compassion. There are a few things we would like to request of you and your team:

• Please remember that, for us, every conversation with you is highly emotional and stressful. 

• Before the end of our visit, or conversation, please ask us if we have any final questions.

Finances

• Our insurance does not cover anything related to fertility testing, diagnosis, or treatment. We need your help to code our bills so that, if possible, we will receive insurance reimbursement.

• Since we will be paying out-of-pocket for most treatments and services, we appreciate any cash discounts that you might be able to offer.

• Our options for treatment will be limited by our financial resources. We would appreciate receiving clear and complete breakdown of the cost of the treatment options that we will be considering.

Travel

• We are traveling 3 hours each way to be able to see you. We have to take the day off of work in order to travel to our appointments. We've made this commitment to travel so that we can receive treatment by you, a leader in the field of infertility, and ask that you help us coordinate tests and treatments to minimize the number of trips we need to make.

Thank you for taking good care of us.

Sincerely,

Mr. and Mrs. Foxy Popcorn

No Cavities

I went to a new dentist this morning. They gave me a new patient questionnaire to complete. Name, employer, general health history, etc.  Then there was the question that gave me pause. "Are you pregnant / trying to get pregnant / nursing?"


Really, it is a simple question with a simple answer, but as I stared at the question, I was almost offended. (offended really isn't the right word, but I can't figure out a better one.) For a decent number of women who complete that questionnaire, that answer is far from simple. I understand that their reason for asking is all about the x-rays that they take and their intent to protect the unborn. So while the truth is that I am desperately trying to get pregnant, the fact of the matter is that they don't need to protect me from the x-rays because there is no chance that I am pregnant.


I thought about circling the "trying to get pregnant" answer, since I really am. But it would have just led to a pointless discussion that I didn't really want or need to have.  So I left it blank. As far as my dentist is concerned I am not trying. Why, I wonder, am I so bothered by that?


Maybe the question could have read, "Are you pregnant? Is there any chance you might be pregnant?" I wouldn't have to lie about a question like that.  (I do know that this is taking it a bit far, but it is honestly where my mind went as I lied there with my mouth open and full of instruments.)


Maybe I am a little obsessive, but I thought about this question for the duration of my cleaning, and now I am here writing about it.  Now I can let it go.


* * * * 
Unrelated to the dentist, I cam across an old post, "Confessions of a lurker", on "Somewhat lower" that I need to share. Sara talks about how and why the pain of infertility is different. She says: " The fact is that little in life can prepare you to have to make such potentially life-changing decisions, often with so little information, and with so little social support."  Something about reading that was so incredibly validating for me. Of course. I am learning how to deal with this as I experience it. It is like learning how to swim after being dumped in the middle of the Ocean. Considering that, I am doing a pretty good job!


She also talks about the length of time that we are left alone in that Ocean. She says: " I think that's the problem. With many other kinds of loss, the loss happens as an event. With infertility, it's not an event, it's a process that can go on for years. The outcome is not clear. The only way to know if a decision was good was with 20/20 hindsight. So, it's hard to know when to laugh, when to cry, when to mourn, when to pick yourself up and try again, and when to move on."  With so many other kinds of loss, there is a specific event, a specific time-frame. We can see the shore and swim towards it. But with infertility we are swimming in a direction that we hope will take us to the shore, we could be swimming in circles, we might have chosen the wrong direction and actually are swimming away from the shore. And all the while we are using up our energy, our limited resources. Reading Sara's post made me feel like I am not alone in the Ocean. There are others who are out here with me - and a team of cheerleaders back on shore rooting for me to keep going, knowing that i will eventually get there. 


I felt like she was reading my mind. It is an incredible post. Thank you Sara.