Insensitivity

So I had to go to the OB-GYN today... surrounded by pregnant women. But to add insult to injury the tech who brought me back and took vitals was so... insensitive I guess is the best word for it. She asked the "how many pregnancies, how many children" question and when I said none she proceeded to tell me how smart I was not to have kids and no wonder I didn't have any because I was a teacher and had to deal with kids all day, etc. I didn't know what to say, how to interrupt her and tell her it wasn't by choice, that I just wanted her to stop telling me how lucky I was. I know she didn't mean it, but it hurt. Most of the time I can handle my infertility but how can I handle insensitivity?

Money makes the world go 'round...

I don't get it. Between Ben and I (mostly Ben honestly), we have a decent income. I don't know if it is just because he is an independent contractor so we have to pay all his taxes or what...but it seems like we just can't get ahead. It's looking like we will be owing taxes for 2010, right at the same time as we owe first quarter 2011 estimated taxes. And those are going to be high because of all the travel Ben has done and gotten to bill for recently. We have practically no savings and the only money put away for long term planning is my pension (which the government wants to take away) and inheritance from Ben's grandmother. And it's looking like we may need to tap into that to cover taxes and bills. Our house is worth less than what we owe on it...we have two car payments...student loans...credit card debt...and it is about to hit summer when we have higher utility bills and I don't get paid for two to three months. The bonus we were promised from work is still MIA and I DON'T WANNA PLAY ANYMORE! I've been up since 4 in the morning and was about to go to sleep when I found out from the tax guy that he "doubts we will like the outcome this year." Are you freaking kidding me??? I just really don't get it. When do we catch a break? Maybe our break is not being able to have a baby...after all, how the hell would we afford it???

Things to think about

So what do you do when everything you've thought for your whole life turns out to be wrong? How do you look at people and things the same way? How do you not ask what might have been? It doesn't change anything...it won't bring people back or give you more time...it just makes you crazy. What's worse...not knowing but hoping or knowing and being disappointed? Why is my life a bad Lifetime movie of the week?

End of the year

It's been a while since I posted. I've tried to move on in many ways. Accept my life as it is. But sometimes, like the holidays, it's more difficult to put on the happy face. Especially when I personally know 6 women who are pregnant. 6! I'm happy for each and every one of them but it just makes me sad for myself.

Stress

I am crazy...that's the only explanation. I was supposed to be done being a teacher after last year. I had a new plan, albeit a sketchy one. But I wasn't going to do this to myself. Instead my plans fell apart and I'm back in a classroom. Never left to be honest. But now I think I may really lose my mind. Taking over a class that has been through as much as mine has is beyond challenging. It's overwhelming and I'm feeling stressed to my limit. I found out Tuesday I'd be starting Wednesday and worked my butt off to plan and prepare since I was left with no plans, no information, and no time. Worked on pure adrenaline until Friday morning when I crashed and just broke down. There is so much to do, so many hurdles to overcome, so much to set up and establish. I want to cry just thinking about it. I'm not sure I'm good enough to do this. To be what these kids need. I'm scared and I'm frustrated and I'm overwhelmed.

Moving on?

It's a difficult decision to stop infertility treatment and move on. We've tried to make that decision before and changed our minds back and forth again and again. Recently we've started that conversation once more. Are we just not meant to have biological kids? Should we adopt instead? Should we decide to stay childless? What will make us happiest in the long run? Difficult questions with no definitive answers. We've been married for almost 12 years now...together for over 16 years. We have a great marriage and are best friends. Do we need kids to complete our life together? Are we really any less of a family? We like our life...our fun trips...the cool toys...freedom. Maybe those things are the trade-off we get. And maybe that's not so bad. Maybe it's time to move on...

Infertility

I saw this online and think it says so much so well...
I want to share my feelings about infertility with you, because I want you to understand my struggle. I know that understanding infertility is difficult; there are times when it seems even I don’t understand. This struggle has provoked intense and unfamiliar feelings in me and I fear my reactions to these feelings might be misunderstood. I hope my ability to cope and your ability to understand will improve as I share my feelings with you. I want you to understand.

You may describe me as this way: obsessed, moody, helpless, depressed, envious, too serious, obnoxious, aggressive, antagonistic, and cynical. These aren’t very admirable traits; no wonder your understanding of my infertility is difficult. I prefer to describe me this way: confused, rushed, and impatient, afraid, isolated and alone, guilty and ashamed, angry, sad and hopeless, and unsettled.

My infertility makes me feel confused. I always assumed I was fertile. I’ve spent years trying to avoiding pregnancy and now it seems ironic that I can’t conceive. I hope this will be a brief difficulty with a simple solution such as poor timing. I feel confused about whether I want to be pregnant or whether I want to be a parent. Surely if I try hard, try longer, try better and smarter, I will have a baby.

My infertility makes me feel rushed and impatient. I learned of my infertility only after I’d been trying to become pregnant for some time. My life-plan suddenly is behind schedule. I waited to become a parent and now I must wait again. I wait for medical appointments, wait for tests, wait for treatments, wait for other treatments, wait for my period not to come, wait for my partner not to be out of town and wait for pregnancy. At best, I have only twelve opportunities each year. How old will I be when I finish having my family?

My infertility makes me feel afraid. Infertility is full of unknowns, and I’m frightened because I need some definite answers. How long will this last? What if I’m never pregnant? What humiliation must I endure? What pain must I suffer? Why do drugs I take to help me, make me feel worse? Why can’t my body do the things that my mind wants it to do? Why do I hurt so much? I’m afraid of my feelings, afraid of my undependable body and afraid of my future.

My infertility makes me feel isolated and alone. Reminders of babies are everywhere. I must be the only one enduring this invisible curse. I stay away from others, because everything make me hurt. No one knows how horrible my pain is. Even though I’m usually a clear thinker, I find myself being lured by superstitions and promises. I think I’m losing perspective. I feel so alone and I wonder if I’ll survive this.

My infertility makes me feel guilty and ashamed. Frequently I forget that infertility is a medical problem and should be treated as one. Infertility destroys my self esteem and I feel like a failure. Why am I being punished? What did I do to deserve this? Am I not worthy of a baby? Am I not a good sexual partner? Will my partner want to remain with me? Is this the end of my family lineage? Will my family be ashamed of me? It is easy to lose self confidence and feel ashamed.

My infertility makes me feel angry. Everything makes me angry, and I know much of my anger is misdirected. I’m angry at my body because it has betrayed me even though I have always taken care of it. I’m angry at my partner because we can’t seem to feel the same about infertility at the same time. I want and need an advocate to help me.

I’m angry at my expenses; infertility treatment is extremely expensive. My financial resources may determine my family size. My insurance company isn’t cooperative, and I must make so many sacrifices to pay the medical bills. I can’t go to a specialist, because it means more travel time, more missed work, and greater expenses. Finally, I’m angry at everyone else. Everyone has opinions about my inability to become a parent. Everyone has easy solutions. Everyone seems to know too little and say too much.

My infertility makes me feel sad and hopeless. Infertility feels like I’ve lost my future, and no one knows of my sadness. I feel hopeless; infertility robs me of my energy. I’ve never cried so much nor so easily. I’m sad that my infertility places my marriage under so much strain. I’m sad that my infertility requires me to be so self centered. I’m sad that I’ve ignored any friendships because this struggle hurts so much and demands so much of my energy. Friends with children prefer the company of other families with children. I’m surrounded by babies, pregnant women, playgrounds, baby showers, birth stories, kid’s movies, birthday parties and much more. I feel so sad and hopeless.

My infertility makes me feel unsettled. My life is on hold. Making decisions about my immediate and long-term future seems impossible. I can’t decide about education, career, purchasing a home, pursing a hobby, getting a pet, vacations, business trips and houseguests. The more I struggle with my infertility, the less control I have. This struggle has no timeline; the treatments have no guarantees. The only sure things are that I need to be near my partner at fertile times and near my doctor at treatment times. Should I pursue adoption? Should I take expensive drugs? Should I pursuer more specialized and costly medical intervention? It feels unsettling to have no clear, easy answers or guarantees.

Occasionally I feel my panic subside. I’m learning some helpful ways to cope; I’m now convinced I’m not crazy, and I believe I’ll survive. I ‘m learning to listen to my body and be assertive, not aggressive, about my needs. I’m realizing that good medical care and good emotional care are not necessarily found in the same place. I’m trying to be more than an infertile person gaining enthusiasm, joyfulness, and zest for life