Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Filtering through the shadows or "Maybe it's just God's will"

I'm beginning to feel odd about posting here, as we're not really pursuing treatment this cycle. And to be honest, I don't know when we will next. This need for a baby is consuming me, filling my soul with such vitrol and such profound sadness that I don't recognize myself anymore.

In the last few days, a number of people have hurt me, tremendously - deeply - by saying "Maybe it's just God's will. You and Michael just weren't meant to be parents. Accept that there's a reason for you to not have children."

I've been struggling a lot with elusive ideas of what might have been in the last few days. Have I prevented him from being a parent by marrying me? What if I had just said no, and he had moved on with his life to someone else. Would he have a houseful of children? Would I?

I am sort of in just a contemplative - awfully lonely place right now. Am I that bad of a person, would I be that bad of a mother? Why me? Why Michael? Why us? Why?

I am so happy for each of you who have conceived. Honestly. I would be lying if I said I wasn't jealous, but I pray for all of you to carry successful (and drama free) pregnancies to term. I wish you all speedy and safe deliveries. I am elated for you with each doubling beta, with each first flutter of movement, with each belly shot. I have hoped along with you for each test, each milestone.

I am so happy for those of you who are adopting. I admire so much the struggle you go through to educate others, to show that this baby, who perhaps is not even born yet, somewhere in the world is your child. My heart aches hearing of the homestudies, the paperwork and the fear that you are having to go through. But I am immensely happy with updates of each dossier sent, of each homestudy visit completed, of each fingerprint taken.

I am so happy for those of you using gestational surrogates. I am awed by your strength. By the strength of those giving so selflessly to help you bring a child forth into the world.

I am so excited for each of you as you come nearer in your journey to finally bring your children home to your loving embrace. Home.

I am so desperately frightened and sad for each of you who are suffering. From infertility, miscarriage, heartache. My heart is woefully heavy with sadness for each of you. I pray for an expeditious end to your sadness, a hope that you will be closer to happiness with each passing hour.

You have all been so generous in laughing, in grieving, in just being with me. Thank you. You've helped me through some of the most difficult moments in my marriage and my life. You've kept me sane. You've kept me hoping.

So I feel almost guilty confessing that I worry - what if they are right? What if it is part of a bigger plan? What if I do just need to let go and accept that it won't happen for me? Perhaps I am putting so much effort into this desperate hope for parenthood that I am overlooking other ways that I can be happy.

Right now, I am tired. I am tired of starting over again and again. I am tired of feeling perpetually broken. I am tired of feeling like less of a woman. I am tired of my husband resenting the very prospect of sex. I am just tired. Exhausted even.

And to be honest, as much as you've picked me up and kept me going - I think I just need to sit and rest a bit. I think I may have hit my wall, if only temporarily.

I'll still be here, my cheers and prayers filtering through the shadows of the sidelines.

But for now the sadness is too heavy for me to continue.

Friday, February 11, 2005



This happened in our town. A woman and a man were arguing, and threw out a bundle from their car window. A woman driving behind them saw the bundle hit the grass, and witnessed it moving. She thought it was kittens, or perhaps puppies.

Instead, a newborn caucasian baby with a produce sack tied around his head.

A beautiful, sweet perfect baby. Discarded - thrown out like a fast food wrapper from the window of a moving car.

And our nursery remains empty.

I don't understand.

This, this is why I am struggling with such heavy sadness. This is why I am struggling with God.

I am so angry I am crying. I just don't understand. I never will.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

A common title

I couldn't decide if I wanted to call this "frustration", "ugh", "what the fucking fuck" etc. but then I realized that well, I had already used those.

Michael just became eligible for his health insurance through work. It's an HMO. He wa previously covered through mine - a PPO. He was anxious to change over (it's almost entirely paid for by his firm) as we've been hemmorhaging money each month paying for his coverage out of pocket.

I didn't have the chance to review the documents before he changed, and of course - well of course they do not cover infertility treatments/diagnosis. At least not with the current R.E. so the new rounds of tests that he had scheduled will have to be rescheduled, with another lab or paid for out of pocket. And our R.E. won't take a s/a from another lab.

Another cycle wasted. At least.



Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Attorneys Gone Wild!

N’awlins was wonderful, aside from losing my step on a curb on Bourbon St. and stepping into a melange of thrown out beer, piss, used condoms (yes, in the street), random bits of food and puke in the morning on my way to Café du Monde. That was pretty nasty. And by pretty nasty, I mean I could have willingly amputated my foot with a broken fork just to get the filth off of me. Other than that, it was great.

I single handedly made crawfish an endangered species. I also single handedly provided both Café du Monde and Pat O’ Briens with enough money to comfortably post an annual profit for the next three years. I corrupted a table of frat boys (and no, I will not tell you how). I kissed a girl in front of the “Jesus hates Sin” placard holders who were broadcasting via bull horn about the threat of fiery damnation just for the hell of it. We caught mad beads. Beads that were ten feet long and three inches in diameter. Beads that lit up. Beads with giant fleur de lis on them. Beads with redheaded mermaids on them (my favorites). Beads with Mardi Gras masks on them. Beads that well – took up two suitcases on the way home. And yes, we brought them all home.

My period started while I was there. And so begins my lenten season. Can I give it up for lent please? Please?

Thursday, February 03, 2005

If you can't laugh at yourself...

This is a cross post from my other blog, but I just had to spread the embarassment a little more of what happened to me yesterday:

There are some things that no matter how absurd, and how incredibly unlikely they are to happen to others, seem almost commonplace in my life.

While leaning over my desk to get a pen I had dropped between it and the window, I heard ripping fabric. That's usually never a good sign. I looked myself over and didn't see any gaping hole in the seam of my skirt, and my sweater seemed intact.

As I stood up, I felt my bra strap ricochet over the front of my shoulder like a popped rubber band. I shut and locked my office door and took off my sweater and searched for the sewing kit I keep in my drawer. Since the rip was where the strap hits the back of the band, I took it off so I could properly mend it. I of course, didn't think to put the sweater back on.

So here I am topless, cussing, in my office. You see where this is going right? Well you're wrong. But only sort of.

I realize I can hear muffled giggling. I bolt around to see if my door had come ajar. Nope. Then I see two men outside - window washing - directly outside of my window on the 28th floor.

I have only seen window washers one other time in the entire three years I've worked here. Of all days, it had to be today. Of all times, it had to be right then. I just laughed and waved, and then turned my back to the window. Because really, at that point what can you do?

And today, they were back. I'm going to have the cleanest windows in the entire country.

I suppose it's practice for Mardi Gras. We leave tomorrow for New Orleans - and no - I will not be flashing intentionally.