tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7356360609895577632024-03-13T09:01:08.690-04:00Chateau d'IFStephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-36642178153571071922018-01-30T11:12:00.000-05:002018-01-30T11:12:29.867-05:00You Love Them for Who They Are<span style="font-family: inherit;">N.B.: This post was originally written in November 2016 in response to repeated comments from one commenterl explicitly arguing that we shouldn't adopt, either implying or directly saying (I don't remember which, and I have no desire to revisit those comments) that I didn't have the temperament or ability to love an adopted child the way they should be loved. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">No adopted child can replace a biological child, either lost or imagined. A new baby doesn't replace a child who died. I'd go even further - no person can replace another. Even a husband cannot replace your first love. And to take it even further, I would argue that no creature, no being can replace another. Although they may fill similar spaces in my heart, Biscuit is not a replacement for Mara. Robin did not replace Quickstep. Each of them is a unique individual, deserving of love for who they are. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Posey is not Cindy is not Mercy is not Epsy. Only 3 years separates these four girls, our assorted (more or less) nieces, but they are worlds apart in personality. Posey turned four this summer; she is energetic and exuberant and full of life and at least a little spoiled. She is used to being the center of attention and having the adults at her beck and call. She loves to swim and adores dinosaurs and Elsa with equal fervor. Cindy turned six this fall, and I often find myself wishing I could keep her. It's not that her parents don't love her, but neither one of them is as mature as one might hope. We gave her a Snow White Disney Animator's Doll for her birthday this year, which rendered her speechless. When she regained the power of speech I think the first thing she said was that Snow White was her favorite princess; her mother said that she didn't know that. I did because she had told me several times before. Cindy is quiet and sensitive and loves art. The chaos in her parents' lives has clearly affected her, which breaks my heart. Mercy is only about six months older than Cindy, but they are very nearly opposites. Mercy is far more bossy and opinionated, used to getting her own way. She loves to sing and dance and started cheerleading this year. Epsy is the oldest, turning 7 this weekend. She often seems more comfortable around adults than children and clearly enjoys having adults play with her. She has a hint of bossiness and has at times clashed with Mercy (both are clearly only children). Epsy loves the outdoors, plants, and bugs, as well as art. She has handled needing a brace and physical therapy for scoliosis with remarkable calm and aplomb. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You have to see each child for who he/she is and love them for it. Sometimes I think that is one of the hardest challenges a parent must face, putting aside their own hopes and dreams for their child(ren) to simply see them and love them for who they are. </span><br />
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Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-46346756434243520302018-01-22T11:02:00.000-05:002018-01-22T11:02:03.094-05:00Author's Note<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's been over a year since I last posted; part of me can't quite believe it has been this long. I knew it had been a long time, but I had no clue that I hadn't written since November 2016. I'm still here, and I still have a lot to say.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm finally going to be writing more about what was going in 2016, so many of my upcoming posts will be trying to reflect where I was then and what was going on. I will do my best to be clear about what was then and is now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Much love,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Stephanie</span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-38630580697545638902016-11-28T14:46:00.000-05:002016-11-28T14:46:27.805-05:00Chateau d'If, Toujours<h3>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>"Qu'est que ce ça?"</i></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><b>"C'est Château d'If. J'habite là. J'habite là toujours."</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's hard to believe that almost 8 months have passed since Husbandido and I made the decision to stop infertility treatment and trying to conceive. While acknowledging that God can, at any time and in any place, work a miracle, it has meant accepting that in all probability, we will never have any biological children to hold, nurture, and raise. Château d'If is my home for all time. (Or at least this earthly life.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Why now?</u></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One of the biggest questions that any couple struggling with infertility faces is when to stop. How do I know that it really is time to stop? In truth, we had been struggling with this question for more than a year before it became clear that it really was time to stop. We had been ready to stop before our FCP convinced us that we should try PPVI in spring 2015, but our FCP was very persuasive. We very nearly didn't go through with the surgery at PPVI, but once the surgery was done, we planned to give them 6 months of trying. We only made it 4. When my dose of Femara was doubled in December I missed Christmas. The increased dose left me so exhausted for several days that I was either sleeping or resting on the couch. Husbandido texted me pictures from the family celebration, and I slept through Mass. My appetite and digestion were off; the only food that sounded good was wonton soup. In February both Husbandido and I were on Cipro for 21 days. He had no side effects, while I was so dizzy the first several days that even sitting up left me scared of falling. This was on top of the regular heightened emotions, nausea, breast tenderness, fatigue, and monthly rounds of diarrhea and constipation. With all the side effects I battled I wasn't exercising regularly and had gained weight; PPVI suggested trying Contrave to help with weight loss. Contrave is designed to be introduced at 1 tablet in the morning for the first week, then adding a second dose in the evening the second week, working up to two tablets morning and night for the final dose starting week 4. During my first week trying to take Contrave, the nausea was so bad that I would frequently stand over the sink with dry heaves. I used all of the Zofran left over from my surgery in October. When I contacted PPVI to ask for more Zofran, I was told to try taking the Contrave at night (never mind that in just a few days I was going to have to double the dose) and with food. That was the final straw for us. In those months of treatment I had received no support or encouragement for dealing with all the side effects, only being instructed to discuss any side effects with my pharmacist. I was tired of feeling terrible all the time, of not being able to do anything, and Husbandido was ready to have his wife back. Neither of us had any faith that the treatment would work. We spent roughly five years trying to conceive. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Better</u></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Over these months I have been learning how much the last 4.5 years was colored by the heightened emotions induced by fertility drugs. Even though I had to go to the annual family reunion without Husbandido due to a work deadline, it was nowhere near as bad as I had been dreading. I might not be ready to try a baby shower, but pregnant women and stroller filled events don't affect me anywhere near as much as they once did. It's been such a change not spending days sobbing every cycle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Over these last months I have started taking better care of myself, first finally doing another bout of PT for my knee, then starting a walking program, buying a treadmill, and joining a gym. It feels good to move again, and it's helping me sleep better, too. I'm doing a research study looking at blood pressure and sleep, which has also helped me conquer insomnia. As a result of their recommendations, I now have more hours in my days. It hasn't been a straight line, but I'm starting to lose weight. Now that I'm not queasy as often I can eat better, focusing on eating more fruits and veggies. In trying to tune out the side effects, I ended up training myself to ignore my own body. I'm re-learning to listen to it, to pay attention to the basic signals of hunger, tiredness, and desire.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's a very slow road, but Husbandido and I are working to reconnect our physical relationship to desire, pleasure, and connection. Through our years of IF almost all of our intimacy was timed in the hopes of achieving pregnancy. Regardless of if we were interested, we did it; we had to (Doctor's orders!). He was able to get past that aspect more easily than I was; there were more times than I care to remember when I either encouraged (or worse, screamed at him) to just hurry up and finish already. In my mind sex became tangled up with feelings of failure, of being less than a woman, which made it awfully hard to feel desire. In my mind sex = baby making, at which I was a complete and utter failure. I wouldn't say we used one another, but rather the only unitive aspect was being united in pursuing a goal, not the physical act bringing us closer. Since we've stopped TTC, our love life has been a lot less frequent, but it has been much more organic and fun. I still need to work on my spontaneity; I'm far too prone to thinking "Wait! How long has it been? Do I need to pencil in time for sex?" But it's a work in progress, slowly improving. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In addition to physically taking care of myself again, I've started working on rediscovering me, going back to things that bring me joy. I've spent so many years focused on following doctor's orders, doing everything I possibly could to achieve pregnancy that there wasn't much room left for me, for what I wanted. Quite frankly, there wasn't much room for enjoyment at all; much of our years of TTC were miserable. I'm still not Suzy Sunshine, but I have been much happier getting off the roller coaster of IF treatment and TTC. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Worse</u></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Toujours - forever - that is the word that I cannot escape. Despite doing everything that I could, following almost every doctor's recommendation despite the effects on me, this house, this castle of infertility is my home. It is my forever home. For whatever reason, God has not seen fit to grant our prayers for children. At times I have struggled with a crushing guilt, that it is my fault that Husbandido cannot have biological children. Had he married someone else he almost certainly would have the children that he desires. Though he argues with me every time I say it, the logic seems inescapable: medically, biologically speaking, I am the one with problems preventing us from conceiving and carrying a child to term, therefore it is my fault. His response is that I didn't do it deliberately. But the quotes, the phrases that keep circling my brain are "through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do" and "What's wrong with the world?" "I am." The feelings of guilt, of letting Husbandido down, have at times been inescapable. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Worst has been feeling like God hates me, like I have nothing. Yes, I have a house (where something always seems to be breaking and that has often felt too large for two), a husband who adores me (which then leaves me feeling even more guilty that I have failed him), and three wonderful cats. I have no career, no family. Meeting new people is agony, as the first two questions people tend to ask are about one's work and one's family. I hate saying I'm a housewife, and I don't always feel like getting into the details of our infertility. Logically I know that the good things of this world like success, money, and children are not signs of God's favor, that thinking that way leads to the Prosperity Gospel. I know that He calls each of us to pick up our own cross and follow Him. And yet I'm pretty certain that people with jobs or careers that they love, with children they adore, are still able to get to Heaven. Am I so uniquely horrible that all I can have is endless pain? We're taught that God loves all of his children equally, but then why do some seem to have so many gifts, so much joy? It certainly doesn't <i>seem</i> equal. And so I am left asking "Why does God hate me?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">These dark thoughts aren't all the time; in fact the better is probably greater than the worse since stopping, but the guilt and feeling abandoned and despised by God are frequent struggles.</span></div>
Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-67643353498491160592016-11-10T10:51:00.000-05:002016-11-10T10:51:02.994-05:00More GF Product Reviews<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Looking through my unfinished posts, I found this draft reviewing Gluten Free products; it's been a while since I've been GF, but hopefully my reviews can help those of you for whom it has been helpful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dr Mc Dougall's Vegan Pad Thai Soup</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm never happy to be picking tofu out of my food, and this soup didn't make it worth my while. It was included in the February Taste Guru box; I don't think I would have picked it up on my own accord. It is definitely a quick and easy lunch item, but it is vastly inferior to the Thai Kitchen noodle bowls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dr Mc Dougall's Vegan Tortilla Soup with Baked Chips</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is another item from February's Taste Guru box, and like the other Dr Mc Dougall's soup, I hated it. It didn't have tofu, thankfully, but it didn't have much flavor. As with their other soup, definitely quick and easy, but I only had a couple of bites. I would not spend money on it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Snapz Crunchy Apple Crisps</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yet another item from this month's Taste Guru box, and yet another disappointment. I've had apple chips before, and I'm a big fan of them. These had a slightly freeze dried consistency, which I found unsatisfying. The flavor was great, though.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Larabar Uber Roasted Nut Roll </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wouldn't say it was bad, but I wouldn't buy it. It didn't have that much flavor, and the texture was gummy. I would much rather have a crunchy Nature Valley nut bar.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Larabar Uber Cashew Cookie</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Honestly, without reading the labels, I wouldn't have known that this was any different from the Roasted Nut Roll. Not something I'm eager to spend money on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Snyder's GF Pretzel Sticks - Honey Mustard and Onion</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I went through a bag in 2 days. (Should I be admitting that?) They are <u>good</u>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dream Blends Dark Chocolate Almond, Cashew, & Hazelnut Drink</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was very rich and chocolatey. You could definitely heat it up and drink it as hot chocolate. There wasn't any chalky or gritty texture. I'm having a hard time giving up milk and dairy; I'm not sure this would help me with that, but it certainly wouldn't hurt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Vigilant Eats Maca Double Chocolate Superfood Cereal</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This was also from January's Taste Guru box. If you'll recall, I don't like the texture of oatmeal, so this isn't something I'd buy. It did have good flavor, though, which surprised Husbandido and I. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Popcorn Indiana Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Popcorn</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I really enjoyed this (Husbandido didn't get very much), but I still think Angie's popcorn, which you can get at the grocery store or Target is a little better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Uncle Dougie's Wicked Good No Fry Wing Marinade</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I won't claim to like wings as much as the next gal because I know I don't. This sauce was a bit too vinegary for me, but Husbandido (who is a Buffalo wing fan) was quite impressed with it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Schar Parbaked Baguettes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I love how consistent Schar products are; I don't worry that I'm wasting my money when I buy them. I was happy to see them show up in January's Taste Guru box, since that meant I had them to use for garlic bread at our dinner party. I probably shouldn't have wrapped the baguette in foil when I baked it if I wanted crispy garlic bread, but there wasn't any left at the end of the night, so no one minded the lack of crispness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Enjoy Life S'Mores Soft Baked Bars</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is from March's Taste Guru box. Though it was definitely tasty, it isn't something I really see myself buying. It manages to be somewhere between a true treat (slightly guilty pleasure) and a snack. If I needed something quick and on the go, I could see buying them. But given that the vast majority of my time is spent at home, I don't really have a need for them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">RW Garcia Original Tortatos</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Silly Husbandido thought these were tomato tortilla chips. (They're not.) They're a blend of potato and tortilla, in one chip. They position themselves as have 25% less fat than potato chips, as well as being good with the dips you would eat with either potato or tortilla chips. At first bite, they reminded me of Tato Skins (made by Keebler). I tried some with salsa, which wasn't quite as good as regular tortilla chips but still good. Not necessarily healthy, but good. I would buy these. </span>
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Taste Guru<br />
I got a 3 month subscription to Taste Guru through Groupon, which was a great way to try them. Like other subscription boxes, you receive a box of gf products once a month. However, if you're trying to focus on fresh foods, this would be utterly useless, as it contains snack foods, portable foods, great for lunch at work foods. I enjoyed getting a chance to try a large variety of different products without spending a fortune, but how helpful it would be depends on your lifestyle.Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-31370920814392137162016-07-19T16:47:00.000-04:002016-07-19T16:47:08.528-04:00The Little Girl Who Nearly Wasn't<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A few weeks ago, during a gathering celebrating Father's Day and JD's birthday, I had something confirmed that I would have rather not known. Epsy, our beloved niece, very nearly wasn't born. We have long suspected that her parents, F and P, were considering an abortion, since they had chorionic villus sampling done during their pregnancy. They were living in England at the time, and it seemed to us that the most likely reason for the testing was a suspicion of abnormalities that they wanted confirmed in time to decide whether or not to continue the pregnancy. In the midst of a wide ranging argument, they confirmed that they were prepared to abort their daughter if the odds weren't good that she wouldn't "suffer too much." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The genetic abnormality that was suspected has a prognosis of not living more than a year or so. F and P were quite certain it wouldn't have been worth it. I can't help but think, as I said, what Husbandido and I would have given to have had a year with only begotten child - even an hour or a few minutes, just to hold that precious baby. You can fit a lifetime of love into a short time. But we don't even have an ultrasound picture, just the knowledge that for a very short time our child existed. One of my best friends once told me about another friend of hers, whose child was not expected to live long past birth. During her third trimester she battled wanting to be done being so large, having to pee all the time, not ever being comfortable, all the difficulties of being very pregnant, knowing that her child would have so little time after birth. It's hard not to compare the two viewpoints.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Even now I have so many mixed emotions surrounding this revelation. Sorrow for Epsy, that some day she will know her parents were prepared to kill her if she didn't meet their standards. As much as her parents love her and dote on her now, at some point she will probably find out about her parents' stance. How will that affect her? How will that affect their relationship? P says he doesn't know what love is or believe in it. Will Epsy some day wonder if parents' love is conditional, if they will only love her if she is "good enough?" Sorrow for F and P, that as atheists, the highest good they can see is maximizing pleasure and minimizing pain. (In this same conversation P said he considered the pleasure he gets from flying drones to be equal to Blessed Mother Theresa's helping the poor.) Fear - what will these family members have to say about or to children that are less than perfect, as our adopted children almost certainly will be? Anger - how is it that they were granted this wonderful, loving little girl while we will never look at a child and see bits of ourselves, as they so often see bits of themselves reflected in their daughter?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia", "times new roman", serif;">Honestly, I have mostly tried not to think about it. When I do, I can't help but mourn that this precious little girl nearly wasn't. The world would be missing much without her. All I can do is pray - pray for her, for her parents, for all those who can't see any good to suffering, for those tempted to or encouraged to have an abortion because of a prenatal diagnosis. Lord, have mercy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-62878882208878357672016-05-10T16:24:00.001-04:002016-05-10T16:24:32.287-04:00You Bet Your Sweet Bippy I'm Bitter<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's been six months since we started the home study process. We don't have a case worker yet, haven't even scheduled a home visit. I'm still waiting on child abuse clearances from Illinois and Massachusetts, which I requested about 5 weeks ago. It took between two and three months to find out what I needed to do to get the child abuse clearance from Ireland. Trying to get the payment instrument needed, in euros, so that I could send off for the clearance took me checking two banks, the post office, and AAA, then asking my parents for help. They then went to two banks and had to open up a new account (minimum deposit $2,000) and spend $30 just to get the 6.35 euro bank draft. It cost $33 to mail the paperwork to Ireland, and I have real concerns about whether I'm going to have to cough up more money so that they'll send me the results. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This on top of the 20 weeks it took to get the FBI background checks the first time and our misadventures with references. One reference, who we asked back in November, kept saying how busy she was and stressed about money. Meanwhile she's taken her daughter to Disney world and spent thousands on home improvements. Finally we had to give up on her, admitting that for all her "Let me know if I can do anything to help!" rhetoric, filling out the reference form wasn't that important to her. Another reference suffered a series of mishaps, with it being forgotten, printed on plain paper instead of the form (deemed unacceptable by our agency), and a series of printer problems. Technically we have enough references, but I can't help but worry if they're good enough.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All of this just for what? The basic premise is "prove that you're a good person." Sometimes it feels like "prove you deserve these children." Heck, just because there's no record of anything doesn't mean that someone hasn't committed crimes; it just means they haven't been caught yet. Isn't the stereotype that the first thing someone says when that find out that someone they knew committed horrible crimes is "But he seemed so nice!"? I think that's what they said about Ted Bundy. I'm not a criminal; I've never even had a speeding ticket. I think I had a couple of parking tickets when I lived in the city of Pittsburgh, but I paid them promptly. I don't cheat on my taxes, donate to charity, recycle, compost, pray, Freecycle, listen, volunteer, and do my best to give thoughtful gifts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But can I prove I am a good person? Am I a good enough person? Are those people who say that "If you can't get pregnant, you were clearly not meant to be a parent" right? I spent a weekend sobbing, wracked with self doubt, wondering if this the right thing, if I have the boundless patience and caring to raise adopted children. I can't help but wonder when so often I see adoption referred to as the least bad option. If it's the least bad option, that means that it's still bad. The people that believe that adoption is evil certainly have the strength of their convictions, and it's hard for me not to give them some credence. I certainly agree that in a perfect world there would be no need for adoption; every child would be born to loving parents who could care for them and would stay together forever, living at least until their children were grown. And everyone who wants children would be able to have the exact number of children that they want. Then there would be no children unable to be raised by their biological parents, and no people who want to be parents but who couldn't have biological children. But that's not the world we live in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I'm stuck trying to prove that I'm a good person, losing sleep and stressing out over it. It's hard to forget that all they ask if you give birth is whether you have a car seat. So yes, you can bet your sweet bippy* I'm bitter. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If I could just get pregnant...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I can't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">* You bet your sweet bippy was one of my grandfather's sayings when I was growing up. He may have picked it up from Laugh In. </span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-59287293813332428792016-04-22T16:53:00.002-04:002016-04-22T16:53:30.164-04:00Privacy and Modesty<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">By now, you have probably heard about the uproar over North Carolina's "bathroom bill." To say that I am frustrated, outraged, and angry about the mischaracterization of this and other recent controversies is an understatement. Below, in no particular order, are my thoughts on the controversy.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let me get this straight - the right to privacy entitles a woman to kill her unborn child but does not entitle me to change in a locker room that does not include men?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If men and women are the same, and no one can tell what gender anyone else is anyhow, then not only do we not need separate bathrooms and changing rooms, but we don't need separate sports teams, scholarships or schools. There's no need for Title IX, either, right?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If I'm going to strip in a room full of men, I at least want to get paid for it!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Setting aside any question about the intentions of people who identify as trans, can we consider how others might misuse the ability to use any bathroom or locker room? If sexual predators/rapists/child abusers never lie about who and what they are, why do we have to go to such lengths to prove we're not criminals or abusers? Why do I need 3 background checks and 4 child abuse clearances? Why do we need references attesting to us being good people who would be good parents? Couldn't we just sign something saying "I am a good person and would be a great parent" and have them give us children?</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Men and women are different. Equal, but different. Acknowledging that men and women are not the same doesn't make me a hater or a bigot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I belonged to a gym for many years. I always tried to choose a locker in a corner, out of the main pathways. I wasn't necessarily thrilled about stripping completely in a room with other women, but after getting completely sweat soaked, my desire to get clean was more important. After ditching the disgusting, sweaty clothes, I would wrap myself in one of the towels provided (which covered approximately the bare minimum) to go weigh myself and shower. If I used the sauna I was again wrapped in one of those towels. I wouldn't have been comfortable doing any of it in a room with men. Should we do away with locker rooms and changing rooms and expect everyone to change and shower at home? How would that affect swim lessons and meets? Staying in wet or sweaty clothes can encourage vaginal bacterial growth; women are encouraged to change out of wet and sweaty clothes quickly as part of good hygiene practices. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes, accommodations should be made for those with gender dysphoria, who identify as something other than the biological sex they were born with. But that should not take away the rights of others to not have to be naked or perform bodily functions in front of members of the opposite sex. </span></div>
Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-83293906543539709172016-03-25T16:27:00.001-04:002016-03-25T16:27:23.935-04:00Why I Gave Up Facebook for Lent<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At its best, Facebook is wonderful, helping people maintain family ties, encouraging and inspiring people. But at its worst, it inspires jealousy and envy, narcissism and anger. I know more about my cousins and their lives than I ever have. I love seeing the details of everyday life with my brother, SIL, and niece. But lately I was finding myself more often getting down and upset, comparing myself to others. It's not that I don't want them to have good things; I do. But can't I have some of those good things, too? I love seeing pictures of family members' and friends' children, at least until it makes me obsess even more over why I can't have any. Seeing the joy on their faces at an amazing trip to Disney or Universal or Hawaii makes me happy for them. But it makes me wish I could have a vacation, too. The last real vacation we had was our honeymoon, almost 8 years ago. The last trip we took that wasn't to visit family or for doctors' visits was 3 years ago. It's not that I wanted others to have less, but seeing their pictures and joys was leaving me wanting more. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Even more than that, I was starting to see how Facebook was feeding my anger. I was worn out from seeing too many likes and shares of pieces claiming that there were too many of this group in that thing/place or saying how everyone that doesn't agree with this point of view is (insert epithet of your choice here). I don't expect to agree with everyone on everything, but I am endeavoring to respect them and their views. I want to see individuals as individuals, not get wrapped up in a bean counting game. I want to see each and every person as a child of God, deserving of love and respect. And Facebook was getting in my way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In a very real way, Facebook was leading and encouraging me to sin. As Lent comes to an end, I have to figure out if and how I can safely incorporate Facebook back into my life so as to keep the benefits but minimize the moral hazards. Step 1 is definitely limiting how much time I spend on it; it became way too easy for it to become my default when I was bored or cranky or procrastinating. Unfortunately, some of the people most guilty of liking and sharing posts that send my blood pressure skyrocketing are the same ones whose actual lives I care about and want to keep up with. So I can't just not follow them... Do I pay more heed to my own moods and limits? Certainly looking at FB while already down doesn't help. Perhaps not trying so hard to keep up with everything everyone posts is key, too. And realistically, maybe I just need to ignore more of what people like and share and not look at the details. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If you've got any ideas for how to keep the good parts of Facebook while minimizing the negatives, please let me know!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-16302430260443916382016-03-21T16:03:00.000-04:002016-03-21T16:03:54.285-04:00"Put Not Your Faith in Princes"*<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In addition to giving up Facebook for Lent (more on that soon), I've been doing both Matthew Kelly's Best Lent Ever and Bishop Barron's daily Lenten reflections. This is the second year I've done both of them as well as having done both Advent programs. I've found it easier to keep up with Bishop Barron's emails, since the Matthew Kelly program involves videos which refuse to work on my iPad, and I haven't always turned on my computer lately. One day, after having fallen behind, I was trying to catch up on Best Lent ever videos, only to discover that all four videos from the two days I had missed were about parenting. Both of Matthew's videos and both of the bonus staff videos were about being parents. I didn't sign up for a program about how to be a better parent or the joys of parenting; I signed up for a program to help me be a better follower of Christ.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have to admit that at first I was hurt and angry. But as I thought about it more, the more it bothered me. The assumption that parenting is something that everyone can relate to is becoming more and more obsolete. People are marrying later, having children later, if at all. More people are staying single, either by choice or as a result of circumstance. I can't say for certain, but it seems like more people are estranged from their families now than in previous times. It wouldn't have bothered me as much if one or two of the videos were about parenting, but that overwhelming focus on it left me not wanting to finish the program. I understand that we default to talking about God in parental language, by Christ's example, but how does that reach those who had an absent, neglectful, or abusive father? I understand drawing parallels between what God does as a parent and what human parents do; it helps make God more concrete, more understandable. Nothing is going to reach every single person, but maybe instead of always defaulting to referring to God as a good Father, how about we lay out what makes Him good? He loves us, truly unconditionally; He forgives us; He wants what is best for us; He is always faithful to us, always dependable. He always hears us, even when it doesn't feel like it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After I had calmed down, I wrote to the Dynamic Catholic Institute about that series of videos. I didn't know what I expected from their response, but it certainly wasn't what I got, which was a pro forma "it was just chance that it worked out that way and of course we love and respect our infertile brethren...(blah blah blah)" Yes, I was disappointed, until I realized that I was putting my trust in man. Dynamic Catholic does a lot of wonderful work, encouraging people to pray more and read the Bible and to give of themselves. And I love Bishop Barron's reflections; they challenge me to think about Scripture in a new way. But ultimately my trust should not be in them but in God. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*Psalm 146:3, English Standard Version</span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-87203488535359348682016-03-08T17:11:00.000-05:002016-03-08T17:11:49.239-05:00"Life is a Gift"<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Words matter. And few words matter more than those we repeat over and over and over again. "Life is a gift" is used countless times by Catholics and by pro-lifers generally. I don't disagree at all with the sentiment, but I think we need to be aware of who it may not reach and who it may turn off. I'm reasonably certain that saying it to a woman who sees her pregnancy as a burden is not going to reach her. Maybe she needs to be listened to first, to be really heard regarding why she feels that her child is a burden. After the connection is made, after she feels understood, perhaps after asking what can be done to help, maybe then is the time to remind her that she has value, not just for what she does but for who she is, that her child has value, too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What are we saying to those whose suffering is so great that they simply wish for it to end, who see no other end but death? "Life is a gift." "All life has value." Again, both of these are completely true, but neither one is likely to reach someone lost inside their own suffering and pain. The source of the pain doesn't matter, it could be disease, disability, depression. What matters is only that the individual sees no other way out. Telling that person that they are valuable talks over and around them; it doesn't meet them where they are. There have been plenty of nights I have prayed to not wake up, to die in my sleep and not have to face it again. Someone who wants to escape from their pain and suffering doesn't need to be made dead but to be heard. Sugarcoating it doesn't help, either. There are plenty of times I have been told that it will look better in the morning and plenty of times when it didn't. Telling someone that it will get better when it might not isn't helping; it's setting her up for a bigger disappointment later. So often we try to tell people that it's not as bad as they think is, which is just denying their feelings and telling them to tune you out. It's more fair, more honest, more loving to admit "Yes, that really does suck. I don't know or understand it all, but I know you are hurting. I don't know why this is happening to you, and I can't guarantee it will get better. I love you, and I hate that you are going through this." And then we show it, by being there and loving the person in whatever way they need, whether a shoulder to cry on, a ride to chemo treatments, meals so that they don't have to cook...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Children are God's greatest gifts." (These words or similar words to that effect are part of the Protecting God's Children training process required to volunteer in any capacity in the Catholic church, but they are also repeated countless times in celebrating new life.) Yes, children are a miracle. Yes, children are an incredible gift. But the more we repeat that children are are God's greatest gift, what are we saying to those who can't have children, to those who are infertile, who are single, who married too late to have children? Children are God's greatest gift... (which you don't deserve) Children are God's greatest gift... (which you will never experience) What are we saying to someone who may not feel like her child/children are a gift? Children are God's greatest gift... (clearly you don't know what you're talking about) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes, we need to promote a strong, clear message about the value of life. And yes, we need to fight a culture that emphasizes only the value of doing, that you are valuable for what you do, what you can do. But we can't just talk over and around people. We shouldn't tell people that they are less valuable because they won't ever receive "the greatest gift." Do we really need to say that one gift is greater than another? Should we next start ranking sufferings?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You are more than what you do. You are more than your limitations. You are more than your pain and suffering. You are precious in His sight. You are loved. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-12671684792339139982016-02-15T18:17:00.000-05:002016-02-15T18:17:09.257-05:00Twenty Weeks<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Honestly it sounds more like an answer to "How old is he?" or "How far along are you?" than the answer to how long it takes to get a background check. But right now the FBI is taking about 20 weeks when you send them your fingerprints on a paper card. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We pushed through mountains of paperwork, went through scads of medical tests, and have pestered friends and family to get references, all in the name of moving our home study along. The agency who will be doing our home study wanted all of it together, so once the giant heap of papers was done, I've mostly been waiting. Waiting and wondering and doubting - if this is truly what God wants us to be doing, shouldn't it be going better? Shouldn't we have peace and joy in our decision? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ironically, everyone else is beyond thrilled and excited for us. Realistically that's because they can simply focus on the end result; they don't have to worry about how long it takes for all these various steps or what needs to be done next. Most of the time I'm happy to answer questions and explain how we chose international adoption and Poland, but sometimes I have to admit that it's exhausting. Most people don't know anything about adoption or the different options, so they have a lot of questions. I want to answer their questions and help them become better informed, but it gets exhausting. So does the waiting and feeling helpless. It becomes far too easy to torture yourself with fears and hypotheticals with nothing to distract you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've been trying to distract myself and keep busy; we're remodeling the bathroom. I'm going through and getting rid of a lot of stuff as I try and count down the weeks until Mr. Postman brings me my dream of completed background checks. </span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-24865596075965910952016-02-11T20:43:00.000-05:002016-02-11T20:43:44.185-05:00Book Review: CTRL ALT REVOLT!<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was a reality show that did it - <i>the</i> most watched show ever. If humans would destroy even their own offspring simply for being inconvenient, what would they do if they found out about Thinking Machines? Surely with humans' history of abortion and genocide, the risk that they would decide Thinking Machines must be destroyed was too high; humanity must be eliminated. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And that's how CTRL ALT REVOLT! by Nick Cole begins. I have to say that dystopian cyberpunk is not at all my usual bailiwick; with as little happy endings as I have in real life, I am a sucker for pitch-perfect, blissful endings. And while I don't mind a little darkness, I try not immerse myself in it for too long. I heard about this book while reading Larry Correia's <a href="http://monsterhunternation.com/2016/02/10/left-wing-bias-in-publishing-your-wrongthink-will-be-punished/" target="_blank">blog</a> (another author) yesterday and decided to look a little further. At the end of this <a href="http://www.nickcolebooks.com/2016/02/09/banned-by-the-publisher/" target="_blank">post</a>, Nick Cole has posted a three chapter excerpt of CTRL ALT REVOLT! After reading the excerpt, I found that I really didn't want to stop reading, so I bought the ebook. (I almost never buy ebooks - given a choice I will take paper any day.) But it's really only available as an ebook, so I was stuck. Less than 24 hours later, I've finished it; this book kept me wanting to know what happened next. The protagonists all had depth to them, but beyond that, I couldn't help but like the Thinking Machines. I certainly didn't want them to win, but I didn't want them to be destroyed either. I could understand their viewpoint and drive to survive; I'm not even sure I could argue with their analysis. I don't want give too much away or devolve into "unlikely band of heroes" tropes, so I will conclude by saying that I loved this book and am looking forward to sharing it with others, especially my husband. (Note: </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">though there is definitely a strong libertarian viewpoint expressed in this book, it doesn't commandeer the story or detract from the action.)</span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-21805197849642982372016-02-02T22:34:00.000-05:002016-02-02T22:34:28.051-05:00"Othering"<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To say that I'm not a SJW or a major proponent of PC is an understatement. However, I think there is something to be said for the concept of "othering:" making it clear that a person or group is not "one of us." Tonight I was treated to a prime example of it during a discussion with our pastor regarding all the clearances and steps required to volunteer. After being treated as guilty until proven innocent (if then) by our Safe Environment Coordinator, I contacted our pastor, expressing concern with how volunteers are being treated. If our goal is to encourage people to volunteer and be active, then, while we do need them to follow the required procedures, we also need to make sure to treat them with consideration and respect and not leave them thinking "Screw it! I have better things I could do with my time." When I expressed that concern, Father commented that most volunteers have been through it before, volunteering at their kid's school or coaching or whatnot. So... the only people who volunteer are those with kids? Or do you just not notice those without? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It also happens when we talk about parish events. Though we say that a new family is created when a couple marries, what are "family" events? If your parish is anything like mine, "family" events center around activities for the children, with food and fellowship for the parents. Why would we go to Breakfast in Bethlehem? Is there truly anything for us at the Halloween Howl? No, I guess I'm not "like you." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am not the same; I am different. And it's not that different isn't okay, but do we make room for the other or do we try to shunt them off into tiny little silos? Yes, it's great that there is a Widows & Widowers group, but do we make room for them at other events? Do we encourage them and young families to mix and encourage and help one another? Or are they just stuck in their own little group, clearly "other," not "one of of us?" It's fantastic if your parish or diocese has an Elizabeth Ministry or Apostolate of Hannah's Tears, but do those couples without children feel welcome anywhere else? If they are only comfortable there, maybe at Mass, and the parish picnic, then we are failing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As Christians, there can be no "other." Galatians 3:28 makes that clear: "There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." (NIV) While we won't necessarily have that much in common with every single person, we must keep in mind that they are all like us, all sinners, all children of God.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-14906005397409184642016-01-26T15:31:00.000-05:002016-01-26T15:31:01.351-05:00Cruel and Unusual Punishment<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This past cycle it was P+17. The one before that was P+18. During the P+18 cycle I had to go through the whole home pregnancy test (negative) and quantitative blood pregnancy test (which the doctor's office claim they never received the results of) rigamarole. Thanks to being on T3, I have been taking my BBT, which assured me that there was no way that I was pregnant this last cycle. But in my book, they both count as cruel and unusual punishment. If it were entirely up to me, post peak phases would be capped at 14 days if you weren't pregnant. And bleeding would have to start before noon. None of this checking all day, just to be devastated at bed time. And absolutely, positively no peek-a-boo spotting. (Is that pink? I think it's pink, but it might not be pink. Or the come and go type of peek-a-boo spotting where you might see it once and expect it to get heavier and it instead goes AWOL.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We're coming up on 5 years of trying to conceive; I've been around this block more times than I care to count. Until these last couple of cycles, 14 days post peak has been normal when I've been on HCG. I'll admit to being tired and running out of patience. But if I'm not going to be pregnant, can I at least get on with the next cycle? IF is enough of a roller coaster without ridiculously long post peak phases.</span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-63190614263824166622016-01-13T21:37:00.000-05:002016-01-13T21:37:36.044-05:00My Powerball Dream<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The radio DJ talked about buying an NFL team; my cousin and her husband are dreaming of buying an island. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I won't lie - there are a few things I would love to do for myself, like remodel the master bath, finish the basement, and make sure we have enough money to replace our cars. And I would love to donate enough to cover the cost of the atrium to connect our church to the parish hall (not to mention fix the HVAC system!), as well as help out <a href="http://va.siameserescue.org/" target="_blank">Siamese Cat Rescue Center</a>, from whence both our beloved Bilbo and Biscuit came. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But my real Powerball dream? I want to start a foundation with multiple branches. The first and probably largest branch would be the Infertile Catholics Aid Society, which would be a foundation that any Catholic couple struggling to afford licit infertility treatment or adoption could apply to for a grant. In addition to the application, I would require a letter from the couple's pastor and from the treating physician, for medical grants. For adoption, I would require information about their adoption plans. Realistically, some kind of financial disclosure would be required, but I wouldn't want anyone to tear their hair out over it. The question would be whether to simply issue high-value grants or to require documentation of expenses from those awarded grants. If the funds were just issued as grants, there would probably need to be legal form indicating that there would be legal consequences for misuse of funds. At least a small staff would be required, but I would want the decisions made a board including a priest, doctor, and individuals who have experienced infertility. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The second branch would build and run residential facilities for pregnant and parenting college students, like <a href="http://mira-via.org/what-we-do/college-maternity-residence/" target="_blank">Mira Via</a>. While I don't have any statistics, it's not hard to believe that college women would struggle with an unexpected pregnancy. In that situation it would be so easy to believe that carrying the baby to term would mean the end of one's education and career plans. A place to live, support, guidance, child care, and other help could mean the difference between choosing abortion and choosing life. I would love to have facilities in Pittsburgh, Boston, Chicago... Really I would love to have one in every college town, but I'll start there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The purpose of the third and final branch would be education. Far too many women have no idea about their fertility. Based on the headlines and the pop culture news, you might think that you can have children into your 50s, or maybe even later in life. (Never mind that those women are using egg donors, which the headlines never mention.) I want women to make informed decisions about the best time to start a family. I want to encourage everyone to talk to their family about any family history of infertility. Husbandido and I made the decision about when to start trying to conceive not knowing about my family history; I though that we had enough time - and I knew more than many women. Age isn't everything, but it is important. I want women to be aware of the many different factors that can affect their fertility. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What are your Powerball dreams?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-50113229620479855482016-01-10T21:10:00.000-05:002016-01-10T21:10:34.379-05:00The Christmas Sermon that I Walked Out On, and The One I Spoke Up About<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2012 was the last year my extended family on my mother's side gathered at Christmas. With two infant members of the family it was guaranteed to be rough. Let's face it: babies always steal the show. Despite it all, I wasn't doing too badly until Sunday morning. The retirement community my grandmother lives at has a rotating set of ministers that lead Sunday services. (Mom's side of the family is Methodist.) My mother thought everyone was going to Sunday services. My parents, Husbandido, and I arrived a little late but found seats, only to discover that none of the rest of the family was there. Not finding Grandma or any other family members there set me on edge, then the title of the sermon put me on red alert, since it was "All About a Baby." I calmed down a little during the singing and the readings, but when the minister opened with "I don't even know if I should be giving this; it should be a woman who has given birth..." (It doesn't help that he's a terrible preacher.) He then launched into birth tales shared by his sister who was a midwife, and honestly, I could only take so much. I let Husbandido know that I was heading up to Grandma's apartment to see if that's were everyone else was. But at his opening statement, before I left, I thought about standing up. If I had stood up, this is what I would have said.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I have never given birth, never felt the joy at a baby growing and moving inside me, but even though my only begotten child never lived to see the light of day, I have something important to say about Christmas. Christmas <i>is</i> all about a baby. But Christmas isn't about just any baby. If all we wanted to do was celebrate the birth of a child, we could do that any day of the year. The birth of a child is certainly a miracle, but it is an everyday kind of miracle. Christmas is about so much more: Christmas is about the birth of a child the likes of whom the world had never seen. Jesus Christ, born to Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem, is the only child born who is fully human and fully God. God - a tiny infant, helpless. A tiny child who through His life would free all people from sin, who would ransom us from death. A child who through His humanity would claim us as brothers and sisters, no longer slaves. As we celebrate the birth of that baby, we must also remember the purpose for which He came and the price that He paid."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In 2014 we were in Arizona for Christmas, and Husbandido and I attended Mass at <a href="http://oloj.org/index" target="_blank">Our Lady of Joy</a>. If the homily had a title, it would have been "A Baby Changes Everything." The priest began by talking about how his niece and her husband had just had a baby and all the changes their lives were undergoing. He talked about them coming to visit all the family in Arizona and how the lives of the wider family were also changed by this baby. Eventually he brought it around to the birth of Jesus, and how His birth changed the world and how it is calling us to change. I have to admit that I wasn't paying quite as much attention as I could have been during that homily because I was bound and determined to talk to that priest after Mass. I was trying to figure out exactly what to say. When Mass was over, I steered Husbandido to the line to speak to the priest. When it was our turn to speak to him, I said "Father, it isn't just a baby that changes everything; the inability to have a baby changes everything, too. Would you please pray for all couples suffering from infertility and miscarriage?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One year I ran; two years later I spoke up. What changed? Certainly context, but also me. I can't say it hurt any less, but I can say that by God's grace, I was strengthened. I could speak up not just for me, but for all of us.</span><br />
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Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-49852299793385824732015-12-08T11:59:00.000-05:002015-12-08T11:59:25.884-05:00A Need to Flee: Let It Go<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We walked into the waiting room, our arms overfull of diapers, clothing, all manner of baby gear. Frozen was playing on the TV; Elsa was belting out "Let it Go." We had enough that it took both of us two trips to carry it all in. We were at the <a href="http://prcsh.org/" target="_blank">Pregnancy Resource Center of the South Hills</a> to donate almost all of the baby things we had accumulated. Some of it was hand me downs, mostly from Husbandido's sister, most of the clothing, the swing, play mat, the thing to support baby in the bathtub. The Diaper Champ came from Freecycle, before we knew that having a baby wouldn't come easily. I bought the diapers in our early days of trying, when they were on super good sales. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We started giving away our baby items this past summer, using some of them for gifts for family and friends who were expecting. But with our home study approaching, it's come time to clear out most of the baby gear. I've been rearranging many of the rooms in our house, trying to make it abundantly clear that we do have the space, and we are as ready as we can be without knowing number, ages, or genders of the children that we will be matched with. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The receptionist seemed surprised to receive quite many items and thankful; she made it clear how much it was appreciated and would go to those who needed it. She even let us know that many of the women donate the items that received when they no longer need them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Everything delivered, we stepped back into the hallway, and I started sobbing. Though we are still working with PPVI, we have no expectation that treatment will work. I no longer expect to choose names, see our child on an ultrasound, experience all of the highs and lows of pregnancy. I no longer expect to be the only mother that our children will have; I now expect to have to hide my distress when "You're not my real mom." is hurled at me again and again. Though it's been an extended process, donating all of these things has been the biggest, most concrete step of letting go. And it hurts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-60300992265307826692015-11-15T22:04:00.000-05:002015-11-15T22:04:23.431-05:00A Rejected Essay<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As some of you may know, this summer <a href="http://www.veilsbylily.com/" target="_blank">Veils by Lily</a> had an <a href="http://www.veilsbylily.com/contest/" target="_blank">essay contest</a>, with the only requirement that the subject relate to the Real Presence. Since I love to write and think I'm pretty good at it, I was excited to enter; I was even more excited when I was asked if they could publish my name. I was... decidedly not excited when it became clear that my essay was not selected as one of the top 10. Submitted for your [verb] is "Where is God?", my essay, rejected by the judges, on the Real Presence. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The shootings in Charleston and Chattanooga… Genocide of
Christians and Yazidis in the Middle East… Boko Haram kidnapping, raping, and
pillaging in Nigeria… Parents abusing and killing their children… So much hate,
so much pain, so much suffering. Where is God in all of this? Where can we turn
to find Him?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Whether it is as far away as the other side of the world or
as close as the loss of a child, suffering can lead us to doubt His presence. The
deeper our pain, the greater our suffering, the easier it is to think that He
has abandoned us. Even Christ felt that abandonment, crying out “My God, my
God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Despite our feelings of abandonment, we are taught that
God is ever with us:<span style="color: black;"> “</span><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Where can I hide from
Your Spirit? From Your presence, where can I flee?” (</span><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Psalm 139: 7</span><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">) In Matthew, we are reminded that Jesus Christ is Emmanuel, “God
with us.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Matthew 1:23) But that
knowledge is a cold comfort when we cannot feel His presence. We are taught to
ever turn to God, in our rejoicing, in our pain, with our every request. But
where can we turn to find Him? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">There is so much noise, so much busy-ness, so many
competing voices in our lives, that finding and hearing God is a constant
struggle. We forget that we are not the only ones with difficulties hearing His
voice. When Elijah went to Mount Horeb, “a strong and heavy wind was rending
the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord – but the Lord was not in the
wind. After the wind there was an earthquake – but the Lord was not in the
earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire – but the Lord was not in the
fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound… A voice said to him…”</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">
(1Kings 19: 11-13) The Lord speaks in a still, small voice, one that we can
easily miss amidst the competing voices.</span><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Most of us have neither the inclination nor the ability to
retreat into the desert or climb a mountain seeking God. The daily demands of
our lives preclude it. Where, then shall we go to feel His presence? We can
turn to our Bibles, finding His words in Sacred Scripture, but even those words
can feel far away, part of another time. How much better would it be to see
God, to be physically in His presence, to hear His voice? None of us is
guaranteed to see or hear Him, but we can find Him, physically present, in any
parish, anywhere in the world. Almost every day bread and wine are transformed
into the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. At the Last Supper, “Jesus took some
bread, and after a blessing, </span><span style="color: #010f18; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">He broke <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">it</span> and gave <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">it</span>
to the disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is My body.’ And when He had taken
a cup and given thanks, He gave <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">it</span>
to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you; for this is My blood of the covenant,
which is poured out for many for forgiveness of</span><span style="color: #010f18; font-size: 15pt;"> </span><span style="color: #010f18; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">sins,’“(Matthew
26:26)</span><span style="color: #010f18; font-size: 15pt;"> </span><span style="color: #010f18; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">words echoed by the priest during consecration. With those
words ordinary bread and wine are transformed into so much more – the Real
Presence of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">In the act of receiving
Communion, we physically receive Him into ourselves. At Eucharistic Adoration,
we are invited to sit quietly in His presence, to pray, to reflect, to pour out
our hearts to Him, to listen. </span><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To most of
us, Eucharistic Adoration is strange and unfamiliar. What do we do? Why should
we go? Just as our relationships with our family, friends, and spouse are built
by spending time together, so is our relationship with God. At Adoration we can
escape from the ringing phone, the dings of new e-mail, the constant updates of
social media. There we can sit quietly, speaking to Him. We can pour out our
hopes and fears, worries and anger. God wants to hear all of it; unlike a
friend or a spouse, He will never tell you that you’ve said that before or
imply that He is tired of listening to your worries or complaints; He never
tires of listening to us. We can just sit there in quiet or read, knit, or crochet,
keeping our hands busy and minds clear, just so that we are there, spending
time with Him. It doesn’t matter if we can only spend a few minutes at a time
or if we can spend an hour or more; God wants us to spend time with Him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The most
important time we can give Him is going to Mass. With so much going on and so
little time, it can be challenging to make Mass a priority. It can be even
harder when we feel like we’re not getting anything out of it. So why bother
going? Christ Himself tells us “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and
drink His blood, you have do not have life within you. Whoever eats My flesh
and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day.”
(John 6:53-54) We go to Mass to be nourished, to be fed with the bread of life
that we might never go hungry. (John 6:35) We go for the “spring of water,
welling up to eternal life,” that we might never be thirsty. (John 4:13-14)
Even when we don’t feel like we are getting anything out of Mass, we are being
fed, being nourished by God’s greatest gift. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where is God?
He is there, waiting for us to return to Him, “with your whole heart, with
fasting, and weeping, and mourning.” (Joel 2:12) He is waiting, “God of all encouragement,
who encourages us in all our affliction.” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4) Where can we
find Him? In the Eucharist, the body and blood of Jesus Christ, the Son of Man,
we find Him. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">All Bible
verses use the New American Bible translation.</span> </span></div>
Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-60490444146832231122015-10-01T08:07:00.000-04:002015-10-01T08:07:04.785-04:00What makes a family?<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What makes a family? I started grappling with that question months ago, and I've been going another round with this question since the World Meeting of Families has been in the news. Growing up, I knew a family was a mom and dad and their children. Of course, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins make up an extended family. Since being an adult and struggling with infertility, I have more questions than answers about what makes a family. Are Husbandido and I and the cats a family? Sometimes I can't help but feel like the answer is yes but no. Yes, we are a family. As so many have said, a new family is started when a couple weds, not when they welcome a child. But in common parlance "family" is so often used to refer to those with children. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I won't argue that the ideal family is a married mother and father with their biological children. But we don't live in an ideal world, and divorce, out-of-wedlock childbearing, infertility, and death affect family composition. A single mom and her child(ren) are a family. Even after divorce, a couple that had children together is still a type of family, though often complicated by step-parents and half-siblings. So blood can make a family. But a couple (or single person) who adopts and their child(ren) are a family, too. Some adoption advocates say that "love makes a family." But that same phrase is used by advocates of same-sex marriage. Yet as Catholics, we believe that men and women are different and complementary, that children deserve to be raised by a mother and father. And</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> how often do we hear of estrangements and rejections within family, whether created by blood or adoption, where there seems to be a lack of love between members of a family. Does rejection and lack of love unmake a family?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Is an unmarried, cohabiting couple a family? Is living together and love all it takes to be a family? Then what about close friends, choosing to share a house or apartment? Don't we sometimes say that we love our friends as we would a sibling? Then again, not all families live together. In my previous job, many of my overseas co-workers were on a rotation schedule; in their quest to give their families a better life, they spend half the year living and working in another country. So not all families live together, at least not all of the time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So what is it that makes a family a family? It doesn't have to be blood, but it isn't just love, either. I don't have a good answer to that question. In fact, the more I think about it, the less of an answer I have. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-83515632788314231692015-09-23T16:27:00.002-04:002015-09-23T16:27:32.304-04:00Omaha<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Once again I've managed to go AWOL on you... And once again it's not for lack of anything to say, more for lack of time. I volunteered for the search committee for our parish's new director of music ministry, not quite realizing how many meetings, choir rehearsals, and Masses I was committing myself to. I'm thrilled with the candidate we have chosen, and the experience gave me a new perspective on finding my voice again (which I hope to write about later). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The biggest source of craziness for me has been Omaha, meaning PPVI. The Friday before Labor Day I got a call from the scheduling nurse about scheduling surgery (which my phone promptly dropped). Not knowing her extension, I couldn't call her back; the voice mail and subsequent e-mail said to send her a copy of my latest chart so she could work on picking potential dates for my surgery. At that point, I wasn't 100% committed to having surgery again; I recover slowly; I didn't really see any positive effects from last year's surgery; I thought everything would be out of network and thus very expensive. Getting that phone call meant that we had to be certain - did we really want to do this? At this point neither of us has high hopes that having surgery will lead to me getting pregnant; more realistically we are hoping for answers, less pain, and closure. And are those worth the time, money, and hassle? Once we scheduled, canceling or changing incurs a $275 fee, so I wanted to be certain. On the long drives to and from my godfather's cabin in Michigan, we discussed and debated whether we <i>really</i> want to do this. Despite all my doubts and griping, the answer was yes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Tuesday morning I got the call back from the scheduling nurse. If we wanted to wait for Dr. Pez, who wrote the letter I received, to come back from maternity leave, there was a date at the beginning of November; if we wanted Dr. H to do the surgery, there was a date in early December; Dr. K was an option, especially if we wanted to do this as soon as possible. I could get scheduled with her for early October. Having surgery so soon was an option I hadn't even considered; the possibilities were overwhelming. At the nurse's suggestion, I said I would get back to her on Thursday morning, since she would be off on Wednesday. After going round in circles for a long time and despite rumors of Dr. H's lousy bedside manner (if I could deal with the then team doctor for the Chicago Bulls when I was 15, who had a terrible bedside manner, I could deal with Dr. H now that I'm an adult, right?), we decided on that early December date with Dr. H. Thursday morning I called the scheduling nurse back to book that date, which was fortunately still available.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However, when she called me back, instead of confirming the date, she told me that she had miscalculated my cycles. If the last pattern of the last couple of cycles continued, the December date I would be looking at would be December 18, not early December. We would have to stay in Omaha over Christmas for the ultrasound series. This new information necessitated a new round of frantic phone calls to my mother and Husbandido. Round and round and round we went. Both Husbandido and I were strongly opposed to me having surgery a few short days before his 40th birthday. Neither one of us wanted to be in Omaha for Christmas by ourselves, but the October date was less than a month away. After colossal amounts of waffling and dithering, we chose October. There was one pleasant surprise during the process: either hospital option was in network, so we should end up paying less out of pocket.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Once we got confirmation of the date, it was time for the whirlwind of booking flights and a hotel (which required deciding how long we were going to be out there without knowing for certain how long the ultrasound series would take), arranging for time off work, and starting the hormone series (at the suggestion of the surgery/head nurse, who recommended I start mid-cycle, then pick up the CD5 draw at the start of the next cycle, so it would all be done before surgery). My boss was not happy with me for not giving more notice, which had me upset, given that I let him know the same day I scheduled it. Up until that point, I was expecting to have surgery in late November or December. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've been stressed about the scheduling, about work, about being so busy and having no down time, about getting it all done, about whether the committee would agree on a candidate, and about my cycle. I'm sure there's irony somewhere in there: stressing about my cycle being weird could be making it more weird. This my third cycle off fertility drugs, and this month peak day was earlier than the last two. My post-peak phase has been much longer, too; it's P+10, and I haven't started spotting yet. The last two cycles my post-peak phases were closer to 7 or 9 days, with spotting starting much earlier. Now I'm waiting for the spotting and CD1, so that I can do the CD5 draw and get the blood out the ice cream's spot in the freezer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Omaha, here we come.</span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-2858164633436307372015-09-01T22:49:00.000-04:002015-09-01T22:49:06.406-04:00A Jealous Rage<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't think anyone can accuse me of pretty-ing up our experience with IF; if you were to look back through the archives, I think I've been pretty honest about the ways in which IF has affected us. I'm not going to deny that there has been growth and development during the last more than 4 years, but I wouldn't remotely go so far as to say that it has strengthened me or improved my relationship to God. I think it has strengthened our marriage and forced us to improve our ability to communicate and to adapt to changing circumstances. I can honestly say that I don't like how infertility has changed me; pre-IF I was much more open and extroverted; I was less defensive, less angry. My self-confidence, which was never good, has been battered and abused even more than it was when I was an adolescent. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday was particularly ugly. I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained. Between work, being on the search committee for a new director of music ministry, trying to prepare to work with PPVI, adoption stuff, and general household stuff, I haven't been getting enough sleep or down time. There is always too much to do, too much to think, to worry about. Friday, after an appointment with the counselor I've been working with for the last couple of months (more on that later - really!), I stopped at 3 different labs/outpatient diagnostic centers trying to find one that is willing to do the blood draws, centrifuge and separate the blood, and either ship it to PPVI or give it to me to ship. Each stop took 15 minutes or more as I tried earnestly to explain why I needed to have this done, hoping someone would be willing to do it. Before I got out of the car at the first location, I asked "God, if You want me to do this, please make this easy." If we couldn't find somewhere withing reasonable distance, we were considering dropping the plans to work with PPVI. At the third place I stopped, I found a phlebotomist willing to slightly bend the rules (they aren't supposed to centrifuge samples that they aren't going to test) if I could get a kit with all the tubes needed (and something to hold them for transport). This meant another call to PPVI; after our early experiences calling them, I wasn't looking forward to it. (That first phone call from the receptionist asking who I was did not leave me with a very good impression.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday I got the call back; they do have a kit they will send. Between my original call and their return call, I had come up with another question: how do I handle a post-peak phase shorter than 11 days? The slip for blood works requests draws on P+3, 5, 7, 9, and 11; last cycle my post peak phase was only 6 days. This cycle I'm on P+8, though I started spotting by P+5. The phrasing was odd, but the intent was clear: "Just do the best you can." (Because I have <i>so</i> much control over the length of my post-peak phase. [Sorry for the sarcasm.]) You would think that I would have been cheered and encouraged by the existence of a kit, and PPVI's relatively quick response. Instead I was hurt and angry. I don't want to go through all this. I don't want to have surgery again. I can't begin to guess what they will have to offer me - higher doses of Clomid, injectables? Given the blood clot scare that I had on 75 mg of Clomid, neither Husbandido nor I are eager for me to go on anything stronger; we have real concerns about whether it would be safe. But I don't want to have super short cycles where I'm bleeding for half the days or more. I don't want to have niggling doubts about whether I'm facing premature menopause or something worse. (Though I have occasionally thought that it wouldn't be that bad to have uterine cancer; it would be a legitimate reason to have a hysterectomy, and there couldn't be any second-guessing that decision.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Depending on quite how the individual/family deductibles and coinsurances work, we could be out over $10,000 just for the diagnostic work that PPVI wants. They're out of network, which complicates and makes everything more expensive. Is it worth it? We won't know the cost until afterwards, and we can't know what they could offer us. We're trying to make a decision when all the information needed to make a good decision is unknowable. To say that I hate that, and it's driving me crazy would be an understatement. I'm feeling pressured to make a final decision; once we get the call from the scheduler and schedule surgery, there is a $275 fee to cancel or reschedule. Compared to the cost of the blood work/ultrasound series/surgery, that's peanuts, but in our general budget, it's significant. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday afternoon it just all came to a head; I was bitchy; I was whiny; I was miserable. Husbandido didn't seem to want to listen to me; my mother didn't want to listen to me; <i>I</i> didn't want to listen to me! What thoughts were going round and round in an endless circle? "Why does God hate me so much? How is it that my body is so uniquely screwed up? I can't think of anyone else my age who has had this many surgeries already; this next one will be 6. Six! So-and-so can have a baby. As can so-and-so. And so-and-so has has 2, or is it 3, and is pregnant again and wasn't even thrilled this time. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Names omitted to protect the innocent, but these are real women who have experienced IF.) </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Why does God hate me so? I'm trying so hard, all this work for the church. Does He just like to torture me?" Mercy? Grace? Love? I could see none of it, lost totally in a jealous rage. Though today has been better, I'm still angry and still jealous. I still don't know why God hates me. </span></div>
Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-84555915096825972042015-08-25T12:58:00.000-04:002015-08-25T12:58:13.014-04:00"They're Not Perfect"<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Out of the five cats we've had, Bilbo is the closest to "perfect," and he doesn't cover in the litter box. (This wouldn't be a big deal, but he can be one stinky kitty! We've had him on supplements to help his digestive system.) Quickstep had a heart murmur, which eventually led to his death at age 8 (heart attack/build up of fluid around the heart). Mara was a spoiled brat about the litter box; if it didn't meet her standards, not just for being scooped but for having the litter replaced, she would find a spot she preferred, usually somewhere on the carpet. We tried all kinds of things, but in the end we mostly ended up trying to change the litter frequently enough to keep her happy. Right as we were about to fill out the paperwork to adopt Robin, he started suckling on my shirt, and the volunteer who had been helping us got this look on her face. She was clearly thinking, "Oh kitten, you've just gone and scotched this deal." Except he didn't - we adopted him anyhow. (Though I'm much more likely to tolerate Robin slurping on me than Husbandido is.) Then Robin came down very sick, needing to be syringe fed, and there was some question of how good his lung function would be when he recovered. My mother asked if we would keep him; I was appalled - of course we were keeping him! He was already ours. I've written about Biscuit's <a href="http://iledif.blogspot.com/2013/08/a-perfect-cat-for-infertile.html" target="_blank">past</a> before; even after 2 years with us, she is wary if we are standing up. She will come over for attention if we are seated, but standing humans are scary. Not a one of them has been "perfect."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"These aren't perfect kids," Rick, our main contact at the adoption agency, told us in an early conversation. As we have been researching the conditions listed on the Considerations page, that has been brought home. The conditions listed range from rickets to missing limbs, cleft palate to tuberculosis to Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Trying to decide what we would and wouldn't consider has been a real struggle for us. It's not that we wouldn't love any child, but we are trying very hard to be realistic about what we can handle. Part of the struggle ties into the stereotypical experience of a couple that is expecting: "Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?" The commonly accepted response is "It doesn't matter, as long as he or she is healthy." (I have no clue what the response would be if the person said "A boy" or "A girl.") But healthy isn't an option; these kids are either coming from an abuse or neglect situation or they have real health problems or both. On some level, choosing what we will and won't consider almost feels like it has a eugenic edge to, as if is related to those who would abort a baby that wasn't "perfect." But on a practical note, there are limits to what insurance will cover and what we can afford to cover treatments for. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not that it's not possible, but a wheelchair-bound child would require moving; all the bedrooms in our house are upstairs, and the staircase is probably too narrow for a chair lift. There's the question of whether a special school would be required (such as <a href="http://depaulhearingandspeech.org/" target="_blank">The DePaul School</a> or <a href="http://www.wpsbc.org/site/default.aspx?PageID=1" target="_blank">The Pittsburgh School for the Blind</a>). If we adopted a severely disabled child, who would care for him or her after we die (or became unable to do so)? At this point, we are currently leaning towards hoping for a child or children whose conditions can be treated here, where there are more resources available, and that the child or children would eventually be capable of living independently. Unfortunately, time, money, and caregivers are limited for children in an orphanage. We have time, money, (insurance coverage,) and love to give. That doesn't make researching all the listed conditions on the Considerations page and deciding whether to check "Most Preferred," "Would Consider," or "Would Not Consider" any less heartbreaking.</span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-10425022491051808112015-08-19T13:05:00.000-04:002015-08-19T13:05:10.025-04:00Start Spreading the News<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This past Saturday we started telling close family members about starting the adoption process. This was largely a pragmatic move, as we had asked our sister-in-law's sister (Husbandido's oldest brother's wife's sister, who I'll call Gigi) to be one of our references and didn't want everyone to find out secondhand. W and Gigi don't have much family, so Gigi and her daughter have been treated as part of Husbandido's family; we celebrate their birthdays and invite them to family gatherings. Though treated like family, they aren't technically related to us, so Gigi is eligible to be a reference for us, which is great because she has spent significant amounts of time around us in settings with a lot of children.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I underestimated how difficult it would be telling people that we were starting the adoption process. Explaining how it works wasn't the hard part; answering the same millions of questions repeatedly wasn't the hard part. For me, the worst part was hearing "I'm so excited for you!" It's probably counter-intuitive, but those words were the hardest to hear. So often I couldn't help but think "Good for you. I'm not." I keep feeling like the character from the Talking Heads song, "Once in a Lifetime," "And you may tell yourself/This is not my beautiful house/And you may tell yourself/This is not my beautiful wife..." As we were telling family and some friends about our plans for adoption, what's involved, and how long it will take, part of me was screaming "Wait!!! Stop!!! This isn't my life! How did this get to be my life?" I am grateful that the process will take a while; I need that time to accept that it <i>is</i> my life. These aren't the children I have dreamed of or prayed for, but they will be our children.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(We did have a couple of people break out the "You'll get pregnant as soon as you adopt" canard. Mostly we bit our tongues on that one, as we are quickly learning that most of the people who say that are not the sort to be swayed by facts and figures.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-30187028043596253512015-08-15T18:34:00.000-04:002015-08-15T18:34:11.683-04:00No Longer Either/Or<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Near the end of 2012 Husbandido and I decided that if we hadn't succeeded in getting pregnant by that summer, we would start the process of adopting from Russia. We had an agency here in Pittsburgh picked out that was friendly and helpful; we had researched the process and knew it would be acceptable for us to be going through the process while continuing TTC. Then the rumbles about Russia closing started; we asked the agency, and they assured us that Russia grumbled periodically but would not close. And then Russia closed to US adopters. The agency we loved tried to get programs going in other countries but ended up closing their doors; their web page no longer was there; the phone was disconnected.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We took the classes to potentially adopt through Catholic Charities here in Pittsburgh in January 2013. Those classes just confirmed our belief that domestic adoption was not for us. Knowing that you could be chosen in weeks, months, years, or never was not something we were comfortable with. They already had more couples on their books than they would do adoptions for in 4 or 5 years. I was not comfortable with the idea of marketing ourselves as the best family for someone's child, so we decided to focus exclusively on medical treatments and TTC. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I may have mentioned once or twice, I turned 38 this year; Husbandido will be 40 this fall. Given our lack of success to date, the probability of us having three (biological) children, as we agreed before we got married, is incredibly low. As we've been getting older, I'm noticing that we don't have quite as much energy. I don't want to be 50 and trying to chase after a 5 year old. We've come to a point where we have decided that it's no longer either/or; it's time to switch to and. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We received a letter from PPVI in early July and spent most of the last month trying to get answers to some key questions before we started working with them. Honestly, the call from the receptionist the morning after I left my first message, asking "Who are you?" was depressing and disheartening. As we struggled to connect and get answers, we questioned if it was worth it to work with them: they're out of network; it's far away; they're fussy. We aren't completely committed to doing everything they suggest, but we are still giving them a chance. I'm unhappy with the idea of having surgery again, especially since their rationale is that Dr. P. hadn't done the surgical fellowship and therefore did things differently and might have missed something. I don't know how likely it is, but we have up until we schedule surgery to change our minds. (Technically, we can still change our minds after that, though it would cost us $275.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But given that adoption will take 1.5 to 2 years to complete the process, we can't continue to keep waiting. It's time to start the process. Last week we requested an application and had a Skype call with the agency. We have a couple of things we need to do to get our ducks in a row before we submit the application, but we plan to send it in next month. We have started work on the 22 (eep!) pages that are exclusively for agency use and know what we need to do; we've figured out how we will be able to afford it. Our top preference would be a sibling group, up to 4 children, both boy(s) and girl(s), with the oldest no older than 8. Researching everything on the considerations list was scary and intimidating, but we are comfortable with the decision to move forward. </span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735636060989557763.post-85731017172348394672015-08-12T21:31:00.000-04:002015-08-12T21:31:50.542-04:00The Green-Eyed Monster<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lately my Facebook feed has been more like Baby Book, full of baby pictures. Then there are the first back to school pictures popping up; I can't quite believe that friends have children quite that old already. (My high school lab partner has a daughter in 6th grade!!!) And so I sit here, typing through the tears. Husbandido and I were trying to play a game of Thunderstone, but I couldn't really focus. I couldn't help but keep asking him why we want to want to raise someone else's children. Therein lies one of the fundamental differences in how we see adoption; to Husbandido, once you adopt them, the children are yours. To me, they are your children, but they will always also be someone else's children. Somewhere out there they have other parents, other relatives, that have nothing to do with you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm exhausted, which isn't helping my mood. I'm tired of thinking about life insurance, and where our birth certificates are, and making sure all our ducks are in a row. I'm tired of constantly questioning whether we're doing the right things. I'm tired of questioning whether it's worth it, any of it. I'm tired of trying to figure out how to deal with out of network claims and what lab will be willing to do the blood draws and let me send off the blood; I'm tired of none of it being easy. I'm tired of not being able to escape from everyone else's babies. (They even followed me into my e-mail when I scooted off FB to escape! Thank you Pregnancy Resource Center of the South Hills.) I even thought about going to bed at 8:30 pm, but I resisted because I'm not 5 (or sick). I knew if I tried to go bed, I would just end up sobbing up there. (Which, let's face it, wouldn't accomplish anything.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Nights like these, it's hard to fight the green-eyed monster, the one who asks "Why do they get what they wanted and I don't? Why does a 28 year old who has a 5 year old and toddler twins get pregnant with twins in an unplanned pregnancy that nearly ends in abortion, and I spend years taking medications and doing everything I can and still can't get pregnant?" Nights like these, jealousy gets the better of me, and I forget the many ways I am fortunate. Nights like these, I just want to give up. I could really stand to have a lot fewer of nights like these. </span>Stephanie Zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08435698159183117354noreply@blogger.com6