It's my fault that we can't conceive. It's not that I'm doing anything to prevent it; far from it, as I have done everything our doctors have asked. But medically, biologically, I am the only one with medical problems that are interfering with our ability to conceive.
Husbandido doesn't see it that way. In his mind, fault implies deliberate action, conscious choice; since I am not trying to prevent us from having children, I am not at fault. In his mind, it is no one's fault; it's just the way it is.
Much as I might wish to, I can't see it the way he does. Our ways of looking at the world are too different. I can understand his way of looking at it, but it isn't mine. I don't think he can quite wrap his head around my way of looking at it; it makes no sense to him. Granted, I've always had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. (If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it was due to a combination of perfectionism and people-pleasing, with being first-born part of the mix.)
Each new diagnosis has felt like a new link added to the chain weighing me down. Poor quality ovulation, Hashimoto's syndrome, type III luteal phase defect, endometriosis, uterine polyps... I'm starting to feel like Marley's ghost! As we come closer and closer to stopping, the weight of the chain grows. And now that surgery has not corrected the abnormal bleeding, I suspect there are more links that we do not yet know about.
I can't say for certain what will happen to this chain of guilt when we stop. I can only hope and pray that in time, as we move on with whatever comes next in our lives, that its weight fades.
Friday, January 23, 2015
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
A Need to Flee: A Secret Garden
I've gotten very good at figuring out when other women are pregnant; I suppose it's only natural after spending so much time learning about all the classic early pregnancy symptoms (and experiencing far too many of them courtesy of Clomid and HCG). Yesterday I found out that my cousin's (second) wife is pregnant. My mother says she thought she told me after my grandmother told her, but yesterday was the first I heard anything about it. My guess was based solely on her recent Facebook posts, which haven't said anything directly. Until now, it had been a while since I had to deal with a rush of pregnancies. I had even wondered if I was past that point in my life, especially with so many of the children of family and friends growing up quickly. There was the obligatory pregnancy announcement in a Christmas newsletter. (I don't know why, but there so often seems to be at least one. Fortunately I received the letter from his parents before the card. Getting the majority of the anger and frustration out of the way in advance at least let me appreciate the cuteness of their Christmas card.) Of course the couple in question has been married barely a year.
As we approach our previously determined time to stop TTC, the last thing I want or need to is to be surrounded (even virtually) by pregnant women, some of whom seemed to conceive effortlessly and some of whom have struggled. Surveying those who are pregnant, I cannot deny that most of them are a good 5 to 10 years younger than I am. From a fertility perspective, I am decidedly past my prime. I keep trying to convince Husbandido that if he wants children as badly as he seems to, he should divorce me and find a younger, healthier wife. (And no, I would not claim that trying to convince your husband to divorce you is the most reasonable of behaviors. Would you believe it's the Clomid talking?) Mixed into those arguments are my protests that I really don't want to raise someone else's children and that I have no desire to spend the rest of my life being second best in the eyes of society and the children we are raising. As we are being reminded by the children of third-party assisted reproduction, children hunger to know and be raised by their biological parents. I would not argue that children whose biological parents cannot raise them do not deserve parents; they deserve parents as much as any other child. I'm just not sure that I have it in me to handle the inevitable comparisons to idealized "real" parents or protests that they don't have to listen to me because I'm not their real mother.
Is it any wonder I want to flee? Granted, the looming 90th birthday bash for my grandmother is feeding my desire to flee. (The great-grands and coming baby will undoubtedly be the center of attention and talk of the weekend.)
My Secret Garden
My own private paradise,
Where no one may reach me,
My own secret garden,
Sealed without lock or key,
Where flowers bloom in rainbow splendor,
Perfuming the air vibrantly,
Where birdsong is heard a plenty,
No sign of a stereo box,
And bees hum their work song,
Drinking their nectar sweet.
Hidden from prying eyes,
From those who cannot see;
My secret garden,
Only for me. 5/4/1997
Monday, January 19, 2015
A Need to Flee: Stolen Child
"Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild,
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than ye can understand."
I have loved this setting of W.B. Yeats poem since first I heard it. Who would not want to come away, to leave behind the weeping of the world?
I Too Well Understand
Only a child can answer,
Untouched by the world's weeping,
Unweighted by those cares.
"Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild,
With a faerie, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than ye can understand."
I hear their song
And try to follow.
Blinded by my weeping,
I wander through the night,
Lonely and scared.
Lost in my tears,
I wander the woods.
I wander the dark,
Trying to heed their call.
But for naught.
For I am full of the world's weeping,
And I too well understand. - 11/2/98, revised 3/4/14
I have so much to say right now, so many half-started posts, but right now all I can do is weep and dream of fleeing. Yet when your troubles are contained within your own body, to where can you flee?
To the waters and the wild,
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than ye can understand."
I have loved this setting of W.B. Yeats poem since first I heard it. Who would not want to come away, to leave behind the weeping of the world?
I Too Well Understand
Only a child can answer,
Untouched by the world's weeping,
Unweighted by those cares.
"Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild,
With a faerie, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than ye can understand."
I hear their song
And try to follow.
Blinded by my weeping,
I wander through the night,
Lonely and scared.
Lost in my tears,
I wander the woods.
I wander the dark,
Trying to heed their call.
But for naught.
For I am full of the world's weeping,
And I too well understand. - 11/2/98, revised 3/4/14
I have so much to say right now, so many half-started posts, but right now all I can do is weep and dream of fleeing. Yet when your troubles are contained within your own body, to where can you flee?
Monday, December 1, 2014
An Open Letter to St. Jude's Research Hospital *Updated*
Dear St. Jude's Hospital:
You do truly amazing and great work researching and treating serious childhood diseases; that research and those treatments are expensive. And with so many people's minds turning towards children or childhood memories this time of year, this is surely a major fundraising period for you.
I do, however, strongly object to your current television ad. It begins with celebrities saying "He doesn't want a new toy this Christmas", then "She doesn't want fancy clothes" as some of your young patients are pictured. It then goes on to say "They aren't as lucky as your children." They aren't as lucky as my child? Those children are suffering from terrible, life-threatening diseases, but they are alive. My child never drew a breath, was never photographed, not even in a sonogram. My child never knew that he or she was loved. My child had no chance at life. Knowing this, which child is more lucky, the one struggling to survive, supported by family and surrounded by caring medical personnel, or the child who was never born? According to the American Pregnancy Association, between 10 and 25 percent of clinically recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage. Are those children luckier than those you treat? Are their parents luckier than those of your patients?
I know that you need to catch people's attention, especially this time of year when everyone is so busy. And I have little doubt that it can be difficult to get people to donate, when they have presents and travel and all the other holiday fixings to pay for. Tugging on people's heartstrings must be effective, since you wouldn't do it otherwise. You must be caring, compassionate people to do the work that you do; when planning your ads, please have some compassion for all of the people out there, like me, who are grieving for children who were not as lucky as those in your care.
Yours,
S.Z.
(A copy of this letter was mailed to St. Jude's on Monday. Though I don't expect a response, I will let you know if I receive one.)
You do truly amazing and great work researching and treating serious childhood diseases; that research and those treatments are expensive. And with so many people's minds turning towards children or childhood memories this time of year, this is surely a major fundraising period for you.
I do, however, strongly object to your current television ad. It begins with celebrities saying "He doesn't want a new toy this Christmas", then "She doesn't want fancy clothes" as some of your young patients are pictured. It then goes on to say "They aren't as lucky as your children." They aren't as lucky as my child? Those children are suffering from terrible, life-threatening diseases, but they are alive. My child never drew a breath, was never photographed, not even in a sonogram. My child never knew that he or she was loved. My child had no chance at life. Knowing this, which child is more lucky, the one struggling to survive, supported by family and surrounded by caring medical personnel, or the child who was never born? According to the American Pregnancy Association, between 10 and 25 percent of clinically recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage. Are those children luckier than those you treat? Are their parents luckier than those of your patients?
I know that you need to catch people's attention, especially this time of year when everyone is so busy. And I have little doubt that it can be difficult to get people to donate, when they have presents and travel and all the other holiday fixings to pay for. Tugging on people's heartstrings must be effective, since you wouldn't do it otherwise. You must be caring, compassionate people to do the work that you do; when planning your ads, please have some compassion for all of the people out there, like me, who are grieving for children who were not as lucky as those in your care.
Yours,
S.Z.
(A copy of this letter was mailed to St. Jude's on Monday. Though I don't expect a response, I will let you know if I receive one.)
Thursday, November 27, 2014
People Like Us
"Here's to the damned to the lost and forgotten/It's hard to get high when you're living on the bottom"
I loved "People Like Us" the first time I heard it; it speaks to the loss, the pain, the isolation, the struggle to keep going ... the cycle of infertility. It's hard not to feel like IF leaves you living on the bottom.
"People like us we've gotta stick together/Keep your head up nothing lasts forever."
I loved how it hits on the need for community, for understanding. For the longest time I was stuck on how much we infertiles need one another, as there is so little understanding and compassion in the wider world. ("Why don't you just...?" or "You must have so much free time and money." etc.) In much of the world we are freaks; we don't fit in. We are neither parents nor cheerfully child-free. Commercials focus on parents, on families with children; aging is so often depicted in the having of children, then grandchildren; healthcare commercials make it sound like we don't have reason to live. Or they focus on couples enjoying exotic travels and a life of material excess.
But who are "people like us?" Are they only other infertiles? Only other Catholics? We can split people up into so many categories, divide them so many ways, leaving groups of "us" and "them." Do we need people who have faced similar struggles? Of course, but that doesn't mean we should limit ourselves to just those who are most like us.
Who are "people like us?" People of faith... and people of none. As Christians we are called to see all of God's children as "people like us." We can't ever focus so much on the "us" that we forget that those whose lives seem completely opposite. The family with 10 children? They're people like us. The young couple whose plans have been ruined by an unexpected pregnancy? They're people like us. They might not have walked the same road, but they, too, struggle and suffer. They, too, are created in His image.
This Thanksgiving, as we enter into season that so often centers around family and children, I hope that each of us can find refuge with those whose suffering enables them to offer love and compassion while still keeping our hearts open to all of God's children, even those who annoy us, frustrate us, hurt us, and deny Him.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
God is Not a Cosmic Oprah
Though years have passed since our Couple to Couple League NFP classes, one phrase stuck with me: "becoming co-creators with God." This phrase, used to describe the miracle and profound responsibility of conceiving a child, led me to a deep misunderstanding of God's role in conceiving. It made it sound like God affirmed each and every conception, that He considered each potential conception, agreeing to or denying each and every one of them. Over time it led to me picture God as almost a cosmic Oprah: "You get a baby! And you get a baby! And everybody gets a baby!" (except you, and you, and you...) except with less jumping up and down and screaming.
How can you not get angry at a God who deliberately chooses to give children to people who will kill them or abuse them but not to people who would be amazing parents? I couldn't; it wasn't until I saw the flaw in my thinking that I could quit being angry. God doesn't have to affirm each and every conception; more often than not, He simply permits natural processes to play out. While God always and everywhere has the potential to work a miracle in contradiction to the laws of science and medicine, most often He sees fit to work within the rules and framework that He has established. So, yes, it is easier for the 20 year old who "isn't ready" to conceive to do so; it is more likely that couple without endometriosis/PCOS/thyroid problems/adrenal fatigue/low sperm count, etc. will conceive. It is in the diagnosis and treatment of the underlying causes that those of us with IF are most likely conceive.
God isn't saying "You get a baby!" to everyone else and "... But you don't." to us. He isn't picking out winners and losers; He isn't judging us less worthy. His plans for us may be wildly different from our plans, but He loves each and every one of His children equally.
How can you not get angry at a God who deliberately chooses to give children to people who will kill them or abuse them but not to people who would be amazing parents? I couldn't; it wasn't until I saw the flaw in my thinking that I could quit being angry. God doesn't have to affirm each and every conception; more often than not, He simply permits natural processes to play out. While God always and everywhere has the potential to work a miracle in contradiction to the laws of science and medicine, most often He sees fit to work within the rules and framework that He has established. So, yes, it is easier for the 20 year old who "isn't ready" to conceive to do so; it is more likely that couple without endometriosis/PCOS/thyroid problems/adrenal fatigue/low sperm count, etc. will conceive. It is in the diagnosis and treatment of the underlying causes that those of us with IF are most likely conceive.
God isn't saying "You get a baby!" to everyone else and "... But you don't." to us. He isn't picking out winners and losers; He isn't judging us less worthy. His plans for us may be wildly different from our plans, but He loves each and every one of His children equally.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
More to Say
I know I've been quiet lately; it's not that there hasn't been anything going on here; if anything there's almost been too much going on, leaving me little time to write. First there was getting ready for Halloween, and the giant family birthday party we hosted the next day (5 birthdays, including Cindy, [our step-great niece] and 15 guests), then I had another rather nasty period, and most recently I've gotten sick. Somewhere in there was the nasty e-mail from the Neo-Malthusian (people are the problem; overpopulation is the root of all the world's problems, etc.) that sent me into paroxysms of rage; she was appalled that our alumnae group would even consider hosting an event on fertility. (To top it off, according to her sig file, she was a professor of pediatrics. Hmmm... hypocritical much? One would think that a Neo-Malthusian would best fit in the medical world as an abortionist.) Despite my emotional reaction, I refrained from replying to her message.
But at the root of my lack of posting is a certain ennui, a boredom and frustration, with the cyclicality of IF. While the number of times that it happens doesn't diminish the disappointment and hurt when P+16 turns into CD1, there is only so much I can say that I haven't said before. And if I bore myself writing it, I can't imagine that you particularly enjoy reading it. Our dance coach talks about learning as going around a pyramid in a spiral; what you are looking at and seeing isn't necessarily anything new, but you are seeing it from a different angle. There are certainly times when I am struck by a new insight or reaction, but much of the time my day to day IF struggle is routine and repetitive. I'm not going to stop writing about IF and faith, but I need to branch out, to say more than just the same old thing.
I've joined Blogging for Books. Alright, technically I joined months ago, but I finally finished my first book and will be posting my review of it soon. What is Blogging for Books? Free books, my friend! FREE!!!! (Yes, I get excited about free stuff.) I love to read, and I am certainly not shy about sharing my opinions. In exchange for your honest review, posted both on your blog and the Blogging for Books website, you get free books. There are fiction and nonfiction books, books on cooking, on faith, on business... Well, you get the picture; there are a lot of choices. My first book was on Catholicism, but my future book reviews will not necessarily be on religious topics. Basically, I'm going to choose whatever I want to read and treat you to my opinions on them. I promise to label book review posts, so you can decide if you want to read them. I also promise that getting the book for free won't affect my opinion of it (as you'll see in my first review). I hope you'll continue reading as I have much more to say.
But at the root of my lack of posting is a certain ennui, a boredom and frustration, with the cyclicality of IF. While the number of times that it happens doesn't diminish the disappointment and hurt when P+16 turns into CD1, there is only so much I can say that I haven't said before. And if I bore myself writing it, I can't imagine that you particularly enjoy reading it. Our dance coach talks about learning as going around a pyramid in a spiral; what you are looking at and seeing isn't necessarily anything new, but you are seeing it from a different angle. There are certainly times when I am struck by a new insight or reaction, but much of the time my day to day IF struggle is routine and repetitive. I'm not going to stop writing about IF and faith, but I need to branch out, to say more than just the same old thing.
I've joined Blogging for Books. Alright, technically I joined months ago, but I finally finished my first book and will be posting my review of it soon. What is Blogging for Books? Free books, my friend! FREE!!!! (Yes, I get excited about free stuff.) I love to read, and I am certainly not shy about sharing my opinions. In exchange for your honest review, posted both on your blog and the Blogging for Books website, you get free books. There are fiction and nonfiction books, books on cooking, on faith, on business... Well, you get the picture; there are a lot of choices. My first book was on Catholicism, but my future book reviews will not necessarily be on religious topics. Basically, I'm going to choose whatever I want to read and treat you to my opinions on them. I promise to label book review posts, so you can decide if you want to read them. I also promise that getting the book for free won't affect my opinion of it (as you'll see in my first review). I hope you'll continue reading as I have much more to say.
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