Hubby and I vs. The World

Things Not to Say to an Infertile Couple...especially around Christmas:

"Isn't Christmas so much better with kids?"

This quote wasn't so much directed at us, as it was a large group of people with us in it...at a church function, and said by someone who knows our story.

I know the person who said this didn't really mean to hurt my feelings, but they did.

I know I'm probably being overly sensitive, but honestly, it stung to hear these words. I had to ask Michael if I had heard the statement correctly and he confirmed that what I had heard was in fact correct.

I'm finding that in times like these, where certain holidays revolve around children or having children - I cling to Michael more. I crave his company and attention because its incidences like this that it feels like its us vs. The World.

Its incidences like this where I'm reminded how safe I am with him and only him, which explains why I get apprehensive when it comes to family get-togethers and church functions. Its also at these events where my introverted nature gets increasingly magnified, and I'm mistaken for being rude and standoffish.


Luckily I'm married to a fellow introvert who will sit in the corner with me, people watching and making me laugh. We have silly conversations about stupid things like "What is mistletoeing?" and "Why scary ghost stories during Christmas, wouldn't that be during Halloween?" Because no one else would appreciate the banter going back and forth about defining "mistletoeing (It's either going after someone with mistletoe, being pursued by someone with mistletoe or dragging someone while holding mistletoe [I really can't remember which definition we decided on as I was laughing so hard I was crying].

Its these stupid silly moments together that make me love him even more. Because I know he does this on purpose to cheer me up, and I like to think I cheer him up in return by indulging the conversation.

Last night as we were lying in bed, Michael told me something that was said at a meeting he attended that evening. Someone had insinuated that to be a Pastor, they had to have kids, because kids are good and attractive to other young couple with kids. WHAT? Later that night at the same meeting, Michael was asked in passing (from someone else) if he would ever consider Pastoring a church (once a year Michael will guest speak at our church). Michael said, "No, we don't have kids", no one really heard him except one person.

I hugged Michael, and told him I was sorry he had to hear that. "Its you and me vs. the world," I said. "Its times like these I wish we had our own island."
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He took me in his arms and said, "We have own own island, right here."

I know I can't expect everyone to be that sensitive around us, but I would appreciate it if they would just think before they speak. Is that asking too much? It hurts even more when these words are said by people who know are struggle. I know this won't be the last time something insensitive is said in front of us, or inadvertently directed toward us. It just solidifies my thought process - Us vs. The World, Us vs. A Fertile World.

ETA: Final definition of mistletoeing - Michael: Dragging someone with mistletoe using a rocket powered engine (missile towing).

Look what I won!

I was selected to pick a prize for the Creme de la Creme 2011 and I received this in the mail today. Its a one of a kind cigar box purse made by Denver Laura. Thanks Laura!

Here are some pics:

Isn't it pretty?

The interior is velvet with a sequin border.

High Expectations

Thanks for all the supportive comments on my last post.

Sometimes I need to be reminded that grief isn't linear. Instead it has its peaks and valleys. I'm just so tired of finding myself in yet another valley. I know I'll make it out eventually, and that it will take time. But because of the holidays it feels extra hard to climb and reach my peak.

After Friday's post I was hit with a bit of an epiphany.

I sometimes wonder if after being on this rocky road of infertilty for so long (8 years, this last September), if I've become so callous, so closed off, that there isn't anything anyone can tell me that will make me feel better about my situation.


This whole time I've been waiting for someone to tell me something that will make me feel better. Encouraging words that will save me and pull me out of the darkness that has found me. Words of wisdom that will help me navigate through the perpetual grief that seems to find me whenever I find a respite.

The harsh reality is that I don't think such words exist. There are no words to ease the grief, unless I want to hear useless platitudes that are about as useful as a chocolate teapot (ooh chocolate). And if I'm waiting for such words to be said to me, that is a horribly high expectation I have put on my friends.


This whole time I've been expecting them to know what to say to me, and that is a bit twisted, not to mention utterly stupid.

This is what I have been struggling with, until I had this epiphany Friday night.

Most of my friends don't know the pain we've gone through to have a child. They know our story, and the struggle, but they have never experienced the pain of infertility, and honestly, I don't wish for them to know that particular kind of pain. It's lonely, and it sucks.


So what words do I not want said to me? Please don't tell me that our baby is out there somewhere, because what if she/he isn't. Please don't tell me that we'll be great parents someday, because what if we never get the opportunity. I know this may sound harsh, but these phrases don't help us.

Just tell me you are thinking of us, and if you are the praying kind, just say you are praying for us. Truly, those are the best words.

Putting a Time Line on Grief

I'm trying to enjoy the upcoming Christmas season...but really I can care less. I've partically decorated our apartment, which means I've put a red tablecloth on the kitchen table and replaced the everyday placemates and seat cushions to the Christmas ones.

I feel like I'm suppose to be joyful and really...I'm not feeling the joy.

I feel like I should be over the grief from the failed adoption, but I'm not. I know my pain isn't unique. I know that there are people out there in the ALI community that have gone through much worse. And really, I think we were quite fortunate that the adoption fell through a week before the baby was born, so it shouldn't feel so horrible, but I do.


I just hate that we have to go through the grieving process again. Its so exhausting, and its so much harder during Christmas. I'd like to be over this by January, but I don't think I can put a timeline on grief. Can I?


Church is becoming a hard place to go to lately. Nearly everyone knows what happened, which is making me feel a bit exposed.

There's a new baby at our church. The interim pastor was holding her on Sunday and my heart hitched as I looked at him hold her while talking to her parents. I looked away, and as I did, I met the eyes of a woman who knows what happened to us. I felt ashamed that I got caught looking at the baby.

To help me survive December, I'm looking forward to January - we are getting a new kitten. Hopefully, Jack will be up for having a new sibling.

ICLW Week

Hello Everyone! Happy ICLW week.

Welcome to my blog. You will see that some of the posts from the last two months have consisted of a lot of gloom and drama. I'm not going to lie, the end of September and all throughout October, life in my little corner sucked, so most of the recent posts reflect how I dealt with the aftermath of the suckiness of a failed adoption, and the grief that followed, (it felt like another miscarriage).

The highlight of November so far is that The Hubsand and I moved to a newly remodeled apartment. Its very nice with its all tiled floors, crown molding, recessed doors, granite counter tops, sunshine in the living room from morning to afternoon, microwave above the stove, new dishwasher, and plush carpeted bedrooms. (Did I just get excited about crown molding?)

I'm still unpacking, so we will see how much I like this new apartment when I can't fit all my junk stuff in the space that I am given.

Our cat, Jack seems to like the new place, though he camped out in the guest bathroom for the first four days we were here. He seems to have rediscovered the sun and he likes it...a lot.

I hope to get to know many of you this week.

<=== If you would like to read a brief history of our IF journey, you can read it on the left.

What my dreams tell me...or Don't tell me (Dreams Part deux)

I sometimes have this recurring nightmare/dream where I'm somewhere and I need Michael, but I can't find him. I can't call him, text him...nothing. Its like he vanished off the face of the earth. Usually in the dream I'm looking for him for answers to something, some problem or challenge that we are facing. But I can't find him to help me get out of it.

In these dreams, when I'm looking for him and can't find him, I panic, to the point of crying hysterically until I remember that its just a dream. If I need him I can wake up and he is either right there next to me in bed, in the other room, or just a phone call away.

I don't have these dreams often, usually only when we are facing something life changing like the decision to stop treatment and trying and pursue adoption, or struggling with the aftermath of a failed adoption.

Its these dreams that remind me, as much as Michael is my support, ally and teammate in this journey - I can't make him my stronghold, my refuge, my hiding place in times of peril, because that is God's job. Its the shelter of His wings that I need to find refuge, not my husband. I think that is especially why I can't find Michael in those dreams when I need him - I'm relying on the wrong person for strength.

This is when I'm reminded that God uses dreams to help us see things clearer than we would if we were awake.

There is another dream I have sometimes, its of me and I'm pregnant. I can feel the baby move. I can feel the roundness of my belly and I'm so happy...and then I wake up and realize that I'm not pregnant, nor am I close to ever being pregnant. Reality hits that it was just a dream and I'm heartbroken and mad at God for giving me that dream.

There are others, sometimes I'm not pregnant, but caring for a baby, and I can feel the small weight of a baby in my arms...and then I wake up and my arms are empty and my heart is aching. I had even become so bold as to ask God not to give me these dreams as they were too painful to endure. And just to make sure that I didn't dream, I would purposefully wait to go to bed until I was thoroughly exhausted in the hope that I'd be too tired to dream. Sometimes it worked, other times it didn't, especially on nights when despite my body's fatigue, my brain was very much still active.

But what if I've had it wrong this entire time? What if these dreams that God has given me are promises and not tortureous dreams of longing lifestyle?

I told Michael about the pregnancy/baby dreams for the first time last Sunday. He told me not to discount them. I told him that it wasn't so much the pain of the dreams themselves as much as it was the pain of waking up and realizing it was 'just a dream'.

I'm sure God knows what he is doing by giving me these dreams; even if I don't know what He means by giving them to me. Maybe to remind me not to give up?

Michael is right, I shouldn't discount them. I might be throwing away promises God has for me...for us.

Learning to Dream again...

...is the title of the new series our Pastor is teaching at church.

I'm not going to lie, my first reaction to reading the topic title brought out a cynical side of me I try to closet away while at church.

But the cynical voice wouldn't shut up. Before his sermon even started, all I kep hearing in my head was, "Dreams are dangerous. They crumble to dust and have to be mourned."

Not really something one wants floating around in their brain before church, but when you've had to go through eleven months of therapy to mourn the dream of having your own children and grieve the losses that come with infertilty, and now a failed adoption - the concept of dreams or dreaming is useless, tiring and painful.

I'm sure I failed to listen at the most important parts of the sermon, because I couldn't hear them over my brain saying, "But you don't understand what dreaming has cost me, so why would I want to continue to dream?"

Its not like my dream is an impossible dream. Its tangible (sure, I just lack working ovaries, one tube and balanced hormones), but I don't think my dream is all that complicated.  Its very simple.  I just want a baby in my arms. I want to be a mother. I want to be happy. And I've done everything I can to accomplish this dream.

I charted my cycles, saw an RE, did treatments. Got pregnant twice, miscarried twice. When treatments failed we decided to pursue adoption. We found an agency, had a homestudy, waitied, got matched, match failed. Now we are waiting again.

I've done all this and still nothing but tears and heartache. This is what dreaming has cost me.

As cynical as I can be about the concept of dreaming, maybe I'm blaming the wrong person for them not coming true. Its easy to blame God, or myself, for this dream not coming true. Because really who else is there to blame? I can blame infertility, but whose to blame for why I am infertile?

I don't want to sound like a bitter believer, but I'd by lying if I said that part of me doesn't blame God. I know that is a horrible thing to say. But God understands, and I don't constantly blame Him for everything.

I know God has chosen a particular path for us, and I know that I'll never understand why He chose for us to walk this bumpy, and painful road of infertility. And in my heart of hearts I wish He'd have chosen another couple, because this journey sucks.

I'm tired of having my dreams crushed and having to mourn them, so learning to dream again is going to be a challenge.

Missed the Train

First I just want to say thanks for all the kind words everyone left on my last, last post. It meant a lot to know that you all care.

Michael and I are doing alright, still processing things and trying to make sense of everything that has been happening lately.

We had many good, tearful talks. Shared with each other how tired we are of fighting to become parents, but we don't feel like that fight is over.

For some reason the discussion briefly came back to trying again, but only briefly. If we were to start trying again, we would have no choice but to do IVF. But making a rash decision like going back to treatment at the cusp of dealing with our grief, is not wise, so we decided to stick with the adoption.

I told Michael that I feel like I somehow missed the train when it came time to trying to have a baby, and now every time it comes by, it passes me at 200mph and I'm unable to jump on it.

Its been eight years since I chucked the birth control pills and we decided to start TTC. Its been four years since we started treatments. Three years since the ectopic ruptured my tube, further complicating our chances. Two years since our second miscarriage and when we decided to stop treatments. One year since we decided to pursue domestic infant adoption. And one month since our last match fell apart.

And in all that time my friends have gone on to have their second, third and fourth child.

I hate how lonely IF makes me feel. I know I'm not all alone. I'm so grateful to have Michael walking this rocky road with me. It just seems like such an unfair task, and no one can tell me why we have to be the ones walk the road of IF.

I don't really feel like I can talk to anyone about it either. Sure I have friends that will listen to me, but sometimes I don't wish to talk to them about the horrible IF thoughts that are raging through my brain.

I don't think they want to hear that a majority of the time I feel like its my fault we can't have children, and because I can't get pregnant, I feel useless. I don't think they want to hear that because everything feels so out of control in my life, that the only thing I can control is what I put in mouth...or don't.

Welcome to ICLW week!!

Its ICLW week and Welcome!

Here are some things you should know about me:

I believe Blu-Ray was made especially for me...I am a Special Features junkie.

I'm a huge Friends fan. (My husband and I are always quoting Friends).

I just finished reading "The Hunger Games Trilogy" and I love "The Boy with the Bread" GO PEETA!!!

My favorite dessert is Banoffee Pie (hadn't heard of it till I lived in Oxford and had it at Pizza Express, it is lush!).

I believe Retail therapy is the best kind of therapy.

I love Doctor Who and can't wait for the Christmas Episode.

That is just a few things about me. If you read some of my past posts you will see that I sometimes make references to Harry Potter things (Shhh, don't tell my mom I'm an HP fan... if you know her IRL, really don't say anything to her ). Have a look around at past posts. You will see some of the things I talk about are pretty raw, but infertility isn't pretty.

Please tell me some things about yourself in the comments :)

Boxed In

I have been going back and forth between angry and weepy. Last week I had a bit of a breakthrough talking to Michael about it. I think I said before that its not so much wanting to know 'Why?' as much as 'What was the point?'.

I think deep down I know what the point of all this was, though its quite personal and I won't share it here. It did help me feel a bit better, if only just a bit.

I started feeling better and so I left the apartment for the first time in two weeks, of my own volition, to go work out. I had realized that I hadn't left the apartment unless someone was 'making' me. I made the excuse of staying home because we are moving into a new apartment and someone has to pack our junk stuff.

Well it felt weird leaving the security of my home, but it was time to get out. I was okay. I worked out, talked to my former co-workers, visited for a while and then headed to Star.bucks. The barista knows me, and so she cheerfully said, "Hi, I haven't seen you in ages, where have you been?" To which I said, "Yeah, its the first time I've been out in two weeks."

Crap, why did I have to open my mouth.

She asked me what happened and then I start to tell her about the adoption and how it fell apart and that is when I started crying right there in my favourite place. She was really sweet about it. She came around from behind the counter and stood next to me while I told her the shorten version of the story. She gave me a hug and my drink and scone were on the house. I started crying again when I realized she wouldn't take my card.

I was so embarrassed. I can't believe I cried...in public...and got a free drink and scone because I cried.

Really, I'm just so tired of grieving. I know its necessary that I do, especially in this instance, but honestly I'm so tired that I have to do it again. I just want to move on and put this behind me.

Anyway, to help me move on, I bought a gift box today to put all the things I had bought for the baby that we aren't going to be using anytime soon. Its nothing much, just some clothes, bibs, and a book. I put the folder from our Baby Care Basics class in there too as well as the ultrasound pic in the book (I couldn't throw it away, that seemed way too harsh).

Also, I got shipping labels to send back the car seat and pack n' play, which I would like to send back this weekend. My mom gets back from TN tomorrow and Monday she wants to do something so hopefully we can fit in going to B r Us to send back the stuff we both bought and then I get my closet back.

I almost didn't leave the house again today. I started crying at random things (well not so random, just the usual baby News Feed on FB).

The interesting thing is the anxiety hasn't returned, but since I'm having trouble leaving the apartment its possible it's already here and I'm just now realizing it.

ETA: All baby stuff has left the building. I got cash from the stuff I returned from B r Us and put it directly on my Star.bucks card (it felt fitting to go there.)

The Power of Sugar

I'm not an emotional eater, but I can understand where it can be a comfort and also a danger.

My mom calls me a pleasure eater, which means I eat when life is going good and I don't eat much when life is crap. I also have a nervous stomach - so add an unknown and potentially nerve-wraking situation like adoption and the ickiness of IF to the mix and well I haven't really been interested in food for quiet a while.

But I can understand certain aspects of emotional eating to a degree. I'm not going to be so bold as to say I understand it fully.

Yesterday, I went to Disneyland with a friend. God bless her, she tried so hard to cheer me up by taking me to the Happiest Place on Earth! All I really wanted was a Churro, that's all and go on a rollercoaster. I really didn't even matter which one, just as long as it was fast and made me scream. Well I got to go on Big Thunder and on my way back toward Main Street not one Churro stand was open from Frontierland to Main Street.

Seriously? This is Disneyland. They're expected to provide sugary treats at every corner. Its part of their appeal, isn't it? This is the reason (well one of the reasons) I wanted to go. But sadly no Churro for me.

The craving for sugar didn't go away once I got home. I just wanted something with cinnamon sugar. We don't have bread in the house, so I couldn't make cinnamon toast. However, we have torillas, so I made cinnamon sugar chips.

It took forever for the oven to preheat.  It felt like eternity for the chips to bake. The smell of cinnamon chips baking was awesome.

They were so good, but the moment was short lived. Nothing seemed to make me feel good, and the more sugar I ate, the more my stomach hurt.

I still felt so empty, so lost. and so angry.

And the more time that passed by, I started to feel worse about what I had done.

I can't do that again. I can't eat food to make myself feel better, that kind of thinking creates more problems than I'm willing to deal with. I have enough to be going on with, thank you very much.

I think I might have to go back to compulsively drinking coffee. Its a slightly safer option, don't you think. Well, not so much on the kidneys, but you get my point.

When the Other Shoe Drops

I had been waiting the past month for the other shoe to drop.

Some of you may have read this post a few weeks ago and wondered what was going on with us.

We had been kind of matched with a birthmother through a mutual friend. Everything was moving along nicely. I was going to Lamaze classes and attending doctor's appointments with her. Everything was going great and everything was coming so easy...a little too easy.

Last Thursday after the Dr appt we were all suppose to go to a meeting at the adoption agency...that afternoon the other shoe dropped.

For weeks I had been praying and asking God, if this isn't meant to be, shut the door and shut it now before I get emotionally invested in this match.

He didn't shut the door, rather it felt like He was holding it open. And in the matter of one weekend that open door slammed shut in my face.

I bought a carseat.

*facepalm*

I bought a pack n' play

*headdesk*

I bought baby clothes.

*double headdesk*

For the first time in years I was excited about a baby.

I was looking forward to taking care of my baby, holding and cuddling my baby. Feeling the small weight of a tiny human in my arms...watching her grow up in our family.

I'm just so tired of fighting to become a parent. Today I want to throw in the towel, rise my white flag and just give up and stop fighting.

I feel like an idiot for allowing myself to get emotionally attached. I attended a baby care basics class at my local hospital. I read up on taking care of a newborn. I actually bought things for a baby. I even planned a baby shower in my head.

Again, we were so close to becoming parents but the opportunity was taken away. This was actually the closest we had ever got to it actually happening. Its no wonder why we were so  excited.

I'm so tired...

Detours and Roadblocks

They happen often on any journey. Sometimes they aren't so bad, as the detour may take us a bit off the beaten track, but eventually we find ourselves back on the main road, heading toward our destination.

Other times, the detour takes us down a different road and ultimately to a different destination altogether. A destination we hadn't yet anticipated or prepared for.  It's scary and unfamiliar at first, but  eventually we get adjusted to our new surroundings and make the necessary arrangements to continue onwards.

And what would a journey be without its roadblocks? These special devices often ruin the momentum of an otherwise smooth, uneventful excursion.

To be honest, detours and roadblocks suck, but sometimes they are necessary. They serve a purpose, one we may not understand at the time at which they occur. In the present, roadblocks can throw a wrench in the works of an already delicate trip, causing tension, uncertainty and panic. And there is nothing we can do, but wait to see what happens when the road clears.

...and so we wait.

An Interesting turn of events

Something awesome has happened and I can't really talk about it.

Lets just say that something we've been waiting to happen for a long time, has the potential of happening very soon.

We're excited, and a little scared.

At first, the people I needed to get a hold of, I was playing phone tag with, but I finally got a hold of them.

I think the 'not-being-able-to-get-a-hold-of-the-people-I-need-to' thing was happening for a reason. I'm sure it was God's way of showing me patience. Because lets face it, He doesn't just give us patience - He provides an opportunity for us to be patient.

I'm so overwhelmed at the moment.

I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, because lets face it, things like this don't happen to us. Things like this happen to strangers or friends of friends, not us.

I really want to be hopeful, but my cynicism is winning out.

Caution is starting to overrun my excitement.

It feels like the beginnings of a perfect cycle all over again.

Two years ago, Michael and I had our last IUI cycle and by far it was the best one we had ever experienced. I had responded well to the meds (as always), my lining was 'beautiful' (RE's words, not mine), the right side had been quiet (as it should be, since there is no tube there) and the left side had produced three very lovely mature follicles.

The morning of the IUI, I had brought all the remaining meds back into the RE's office because I had no longer wanted to see it in my fridge. After all, this was to be our last cycle...ever. We had decided, 4 IUIs (technically 8 in total, 4 were cancelled), was enough. My RE was actually being generous to us at offering a 4th cycle since I responded so well to the meds (typically they didn't continue after 3 failed cycles).

Everything had been going perfectly. I had passed 12dpiui without bleeding (a milestone, as I never exceeded 12dpiui). But once I had hit 14dpiui and did the required hpt (my RE office had you do a hpt before having a beta) my hopes were dashed as the hpt had been negative.

It turned out our perfect cycle had ended in a chemical pregnancy.

I don't feel like I'm being forced to do anything I don't want to. I don't feel I'm forcing doors to open that should be kept closed. So far everything is going as right as can be expected...and maybe that is what is scaring me. Because things, like this, don't usually go right for us.

I'm noticing with this new situation that even though God is opening the doors - it still requires work on my part. I can do the easy thing and sit back and do nothing, or I can do the right thing by stepping out of my comfort zone and do what needs to be done.

I apologise for the vagueness of this post. I will try to post an update soon

Wordless Wednesday

Look at that pretty face

While most of my Facebook feed is being filled with my friends 'First day of school pics' of their kids. I decided to post of pic of by furkid. He might not be going to school, but he sure is cute :)

Rules of An Arachniphobic

In the movie, "Zombieland" one of the characters, Columbus has all these rules when dealing with the Zombies. Rules that he lives by to survive the plague. I was inspired by the movie and an incident that happened one morning to create my own set of rules were spiders are concerned.

Rule #1: If there is a bug and or spider in your apartment - Never hesitate, kill bug/spider on site. If you cannot kill it, because you are an arachniphobic and are afraid, get someone who can.

Rule #2: It is the duty of my husband (the non-arachniphobic) to kill it immediately. Please do not stop to brush your teeth. (This rule coincides w/Rule #1).

Rule #3: Keep newspapers handy. You never know when you will have to hand one to your husband or non-arachniphobic so he can kill the spider.

Rule #4: Always wear shoes. (This rule just makes good sense, and in a way the arachniphobic feels enpowered in case they are alone and have to stomp on the bug/spider.)

Rule #5: Evidence of the dead carcass is required to show as proof to the arachniphobic that the subject has been eliminated. This helps to restore confidence and assurance back to the arachniphobic. (Until another spider enters the dwelling).

Rule #6: After said intruder is eliminated, its carcass must be disposed of from kill site (either by flushing it down the toilet, or in the trash and the trash must be taken out of dwelling immediately).

Rule #7: Always scan the ceilings when entering a room especially bathrooms. Spiders like high places. Most Arachniphobics have good eyesight. They can spot a spider from across the room, on the ceiling, in the dark. They are not being paranoid, they are saving lives.

Rule #8: Spiders are fast, if you have bug spray - use it. If not, hairspray will do. (And then follow rules #4-#6).
Rule #9: Do not discriminate because of size, that tiny spider will grow up one day - or in a week. Eliminate immediately (remember rule #1, followed up by #4-#6.

Rule #10: Never joke with an arachniphobic about spiders being near them or on them. If you choose to do this as a practical joke, I caution you, that they will find *your* weakness and use it to *their* advantage.
Rule #11: If you (the non-arachniphobic) see a spider, please kill it. However, do not tell the arachniphobic the size and type of spider you just eliminated, especially two hours before bedtime.

To all you non-arachniphobics - just know that we love you for your good aim, confidence and willingness to put up with us.

Welcome ICLW People!

Its been a while since I participated in ICLW week, mostly because for the past couple of months I was travelling.

Some things you should know about me:

1) I am a huge Harry Potter fan (shhh don't tell my mom...seriously if you know her IRL don't tell her). Yes, I've been to the WWoHP, and it was awesome! And yes, I'm one of the crazy passionate fans that woke up at an ungodly hour to get early registration on Pottermore. Now I'm waiting for my Welcome email to start exploring in the beta stages.

Just to clarify, I'm not afraid of dragons. I am afraid of Acromantulas.

2) I love to shop therefore, I am an emotional shopper.

3) Michael and I go to the movies every weekend in the summer from the first Sat in May to the last Sat in July.

4) We go to Disneyland every year on our anniversary and my birthday. Its my happy place.

5) I'm addicted to coffee. To give you an idea the Baristas at my local Starbucks all know me by name.

6) I'm currently unemployed and enjoying my "Woman of Leisure" status.

Please tell me some things about you in the comments :)

Why I Hate Crying

I guess part of me has always hated crying. Its messy, its loud and it always gives me a headache and a stuffy nose afterwards.

But at the same time, it makes me feel better. The tightness in my chest is gone, the tension in my throat subsides and my heart doesn't feel as heavy.

I still hate crying.

When I was little I was a very sensitive child. Anything would make me cry, I was that sensitive. Kids wouldn't be my friend anymore because they didn't wish to be associated with "The Cry Baby". This label also made me a Bully Magnet.

It wasn't until the end of third grade that I was able to rein in the tears. It was also at this time I learned the value of sarcasm and definitely put it to good use.

Kids are still cruel and will find anything to target and make fun of, and when those times came I still wouldn't cry. I'd wait until I got home and in my bedroom to let out the tears. Because my bedroom was a safe place.

Some times it was harder than others to rein in the emotions. Especially when puberty hit, and hormones went crazy, and there I was again - crying at the drop of a hat.

As I got older, I got it in my head that showing emotions was somehow a bad thing (no doubt being raised by someone who was also told this exact same thing).

When I married Michael, everything changed. It was okay to cry and show emotion. I was encouraged that I tell him how I felt, and he didn't make fun of me or call me 'emotional' for doing so.

Michael didn't mind that I'd cry at another BFN, or failed cycle or another pregnancy announcement.

Even now, ten years later, he doesn't have a problem when I start crying because I'm frustrated that we are struggling to have kids while others are not.

So why do I hate crying?

Because I hate how transparent it makes me.

I hate that I still have a reason to cry.

I hate that I'm still hurting because of IF.

I hate that my children weren't meant to be here on this earth with us.

I hate that I'll never be okay with a woman I know getting pregnant.

I hate not knowing if we will ever be parents.

All of this makes me cry and I struggle to not let to show on my face. I still apologize to Michael whenever things that are IF or pregnancy related make my cry. He always tells me the same thing, "Its okay to be sad. We have struggled for a long time", and then he hugs me and lets me cry some more.

Which Character would I never want to meet

I found it interesting that the first character I thought of that I would never want to meet would be Gollum from The Lord of the Rings. Now I haven't read any of the LoTR books, so I only have the movies as my reference.

But really just from the movies I found Gollum to be creepy even when he smiles. I can't even post a picture because he is too creepy to look at.

Another character I wouldn't want to meet would be Professor Snape. Given his vindictive nature and inability to properly teach Potions without making students nervous, I would find it difficult to function competently in his class.  Like Neville, I would be extremely uneasy with Snape hovering over me like an overgrown bat to properly brew a potion.  And to have to be in the dungeons for double the time - torturous!

I think next on that list would be Jane Eyre's Aunt Mrs Reed, Mr Brocklehurst and most, if not all the teachers of Lowood Institution.

Why I don't go to see chick-flicks

My mom wanted to see "The Help" on Thursday and asked me if I would go see it with her. I agreed to go see it. It looked like an enjoyable movie...for a chickflick.

I need to be honest, I'm not a chickflick fan. Mostly because they are too sentimental for me and 95% of the time they make you cry. And I hate crying.

If it were up to me we would have went to see an action film. I love action films - explosions, fist fights, car chases and hardly any need to make their audience cry.

Anyway, back to The Help. I knew going in that there would be obvious controversial themes seeing as the film took place in Jackson, Mississippi in 1963. What I didn't know was that there were far more serious scenes than the funny scenes they showed in the trailer.

Overall, its a great movie - Emma Stone is great as Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan, a young woman who comes back to her hometown after graduating from Ole Miss, a little more outspoken, and educated than her contempories. And while Stone is great in the scenes that she is in mostly getting lots of laughs for her character's great comebacks, her performance is overshadowed by many of the characters.

Bryce Dallas Howard (Hilly Holbrook) plays her part well as the woman who basically runs the neighborhood and the society ladies of Jackson. You can't help but hate her from the start of the film as she carries herself to be far more superior among not only "The Help" but also her own friends to the point of influencing their decisions on how to "handle" their maids and their homelife.

Viola Davis is excellent as the meek and mild Aibileen Clark. The audience can see that there exists great pain in her past. She bears the weight of her pain in the slight slump in her shoulders and her slow gait. Aibileen holds much of her pain and sadness close to her heart, to the point of silence. Its not until she is given the opportunity to share her point of view of being a maid with Skeeter, that she slowly opens up about her history of being a maid and the stories that come with that life.

Octavia Spencer is great as the sassy Minnie Jackson, a fellow maid and confidant of Aibileen. Early on in the film she becomes a bit of an outcast and deemed unemployable by Hilly Holbrook for doing something ultimately deplorable (I won't spoil the fun, you have to see it to appreciate it). She is the second maid that comes to share with Skeeter her stories (good and bad) of being a maid. Minnie finally gets a job working for Celia Foote - a sweet young married woman who is labled a social outcast by none other than Hilly Holbrook.

Jessica Chastain plays country raised Celia Foote (my favorite character) with such naive sweetness you want to hug her and cheer for her as she tries so hard to fit in with the other society ladies in Jackson. Her downfall (or her greatest strength, however you may see it) is her inability to act superior to her maid, Minnie. Minnie is the one who tries to educate her in the employer/employee way of life in Jackson. However, to Celia, there is no distinction between them, and really in the end Celia needs a friend and finds that friendship in Minnie as she teaches her how to cook.

One of the scenes that made me cry sob was the scene in which Celia has locked herself in the bathroom and practically yells that Minnie she can go home. We learned early on when Celia and Minnie meet that Celia is newly pregnant.

I don't know why my brain went here, but it did. As soon as we hear the ruckus coming from the bathroom, and Celia's panicked pleas for Minnie to go home, I knew what was happening behind that bathroom door. I knew that Celia was miscarrying the baby...and I was right.

I cried hard for the next five to ten minutes, I had to put my fist in my mouth to keep me from making any sounds.

And I hated my mom for a split second for making me go see this movie. How dare she and this film make me relive something that I hate sharing or expressing. How dare this film make me cry.

That scene made the character of Celia Foote all the more tragic in my eyes. She voices her inadequacy of being a wife to Minnie, "What good am I here, if I can't give Johnny any children."

My heart broke when she said this, because how many of us, who struggle with IF have not said those exact words? "What good am I if I can't give my husband children?" I know I have.

I am blessed to be married to a great man like Michael, who reminds me every day that he married me and not my uterus.

Still, I hate crying - which is why I will be staying away from chick-flicks, at least for the next year.

Day 10: Fictionalize the boring part of your day and retell it.

Since being laid off I have a lot of time on my hands. Time that I can do fun stuff, like write and time to do not so much fun stuff, like clean my house.

Today was the clean the house day. A not so fun thing to do, but in all points extremely necessary. So I vacuumed the carpet, dusted the furniture, cleaned the bathroom, and the most dreaded job - washing the dishes last.

The pile was obscenly high and I regretted leaving this job to the last minute. There would be time to berate myself later, right now there were dishes to wash.

I ran the water until it changed to the desired temperature of past warm, but not quite scorching hot. I soaped up my dishrag and set to washing. I realize that I use a large amount of dishwashing liquid, but I like to make sure that the dishes I wash are clean.

It seemed to take forever for me to breach the large pile, but soon enough I could start to see the bottom of the sink. But just when I thought I had washed, rinsed and set the last dish on the drying rack, ten more dirty dishes would be sitting in the sink waiting to be washed.

What?

Day 9: What do you think about white lies?

Well I'm sure from my yesterday's post I'm expected to maybe appreciate white lies. Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't like white lies.

They start off as small bits of misinformation that are often mistaken for being harmless and insignificant. But it usually doesn't stop with one lie. Soon more and more lies must be told to accommodate the consistency of the original lie.

And then the little white lie becomes so big, you've forgotten what started it in the first place.

Every time I hear the term 'white lie' I'm reminded of this book that was read to me in the third grade, Jimmy and the White Lie.

Its about a boy called Jimmy who breaks a neighbor's window playing baseball. He tells a little 'white lie' about his involvement in the incident. As the story progresses the reader sees that Jimmy is having to tell more lies to cover up the one white lie he told. The more lies he tells the bigger the 'white lie' gets. Once he confesses to his parents about the lie, and confronts the neighbor about breaking her window, he is forgiven for lying and the white lie goes away.

Its a great little book that not only talks about the dangers of lying, but the greatness of forgiveness when you choose to tell the truth.

Day 8: Do you always tell the truth?

Well that is a loaded question, don't you think?

Seeing as my degree is in Creative Writing, Michael frequently likes to tease me, claiming that I am a professional liar. Cheeky, yes, but he knows that I will never lie to him and that I will always tell him the truth. He also knows that I only use this power for good and not evil.

Overall I am a very truthful person. If you ask me a question, I'll answer it truthfully. However, my answer will depend on the question being asked and who is asking it.

If a question steps over the line into my personal territory, and you are not considered a safe person; expect an answer that is not altogether truthful. In simple terms, I will not volunteer information that I feel needs to be protected.

So no, I don't always tell the truth. But is it lying if I don't volunteer information? Is it lying if I'm protecting myself from more invasive questions and judgement?

"I'm not lying. I'm thinking creatively in order to execute a specific purpose."
-Me

 So do you always tell the truth?

Has My Secret Been Found Out

My arms feel stiff
As she hands me her newborn son to hold.
He's a small bundle, Precious at first sight.
A perfect combination of his parents.
He senses the awkwardness,
and fusses in my arms.
I try to calm him and myself,
but its not working.
He knows I'm uncomfortable.

Its a good thing I'm sitting
I don't think my shaky legs
could support me.
Whose idea was it
To place this innocent child
In my desperate arms?
Was it the longing look on my face,
Or the defeated slump in my shoulders?
Has my secret been found out?

Its not his fault.
He's just trying to sleep.
He doesn't know the journey I've walked,
Or the struggles I've endured,
To have a baby of my own.
He doesn't know the tears I've shed,
As month after month
My arms remain empty.
He just knows I'm uncomfortable.

She takes him away,
And thinks she's done a good thing
By allowing me to hold him.
She doesn't see the damage
This simple gesture inflicted on my fragile heart.
Its not her fault
I should have said,"No thanks"
or "Maybe next time"
But I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Day 6: Film adaptation vs book

I am a very visual person and my first love is movies. As I got older, I noticed most of the movies I would watch were based off of novels or short stories.  My interest was piqued, and I would seek out to read the novel or short story the film was based on. It didn't matter when I chose to read said novel or short story, I was just interested in 'seeing' what the original author saw when he/she created his/her work of art.

I remember being slightly disappointed watching a movie that was based off of a book, because the director or screenwriter changed things that went against the original characterization established in the books.

And sometimes the reverse is also true, where the movie the novel or short story that its based on is actually better than the book *coughForrestGumpcough* (The overall premise of the book was used, but changed drastically to accomidate Hollywood and tell a better story. In my opinion, the film won out over the book, and to me that is the only time that has happened.)

Talking to some book purists, anytime Hollywood makes a film based on a favorite book something always falls short. And I think that is to be expected...film and books are two totally different mediums.

The Director has to take into consideration, besides telling a story, maintain the pacing of the story, keep characterization of characters consistant with the book (sometimes this doesn't always happen), decide whether the film needs an action sequence, more drama in a scene to gain the audience's sympathy, creating conflict to get a better resolution between characters, sacrifice certain subplots, and provide closure (or not, depending on if its meant to have a sequel).

The Author has to do all this too, but I think they have a bit more freedom as its their imagination out on the page telling the story. They still have to apply their skills to the task - tell an effective story, with the right pacing within a proper story arc. Create interesting characters that we care about, or despise (if they are the antagonist). Provide a back story for said characters, hopefully not in an "info-dump" style.

So which do I prefer, film adaption vs book? Overall I think it depends on how the film is made and how true to the original book it represents. But sometimes I like the fact that I can open a book an used my imagination instead of having it painted for me on a TV screen

Day 5: What is the best first sentence you can think of off the top of your head?

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." - Pride and Prejudice

Honestly this was the best first sentence that came to my mind...

I know what your thinking, and I agree.

I need to read more.

Day 4: Which Character would you most wish to meet?

I think it would depend on what conversation I wanted to have or what situation I was in.

The first character I actually thought of when I read the prompt was, Elizabeth Bennett. Seems like a cliched answer, but its the best I've got considering the limited amount of reading that I've done.

To me, Elizabeth Bennett shows great strength and independence. She is not afraid of speaking her mind no matter who she is speaking with (Lady Catherine de Bourg comes it mind.) And of course let's not dis-count the verbal sparring she has with Mr Darcy.

I asked my husband this question and his immediate response was, Gandalf the Wizard. Typical guy response, though I have to say it was a good one.

Now, if I was still in school and needed a good influence to keep me on the straight and narrow so I could finish school in a timely manner and with good marks, I would love to have been able to meet Hermione Granger. Though, her usefulness would start to wear off if she kept tutting at me for being easily distracted by the Weasley Twins...

She Came to Him Crying

She came to him crying,
Carrying the pieces
Of their shattered dreams in her hands.
She knows she should let them go,
Its remnants constantly digging in her hands,
As she holds tightly to what is left.
She doesn’t want to say goodbye,
But she knows she needs to.

He looks into her pleading eyes,
And gently takes her in his arms.
He doesn’t know what to say,
To take the pain away from her, from them.
So he says, “I love you.”
He doesn’t know what to do,
To make the tears go away.
So he presses kisses to each tear.

She melts into his arms,
As his embrace dissolves the grief surrounding her.
“I love you too,” she says.
Allowing his words and affection to
Wash over the open wounds she cannot reach.
Soon she is no longer crying,
But encompassing every part of him,
As he penetrates through the sorrow
Turning it to joy.

Day 3: Have you ever wished you could enter a book?

Well considering how much I gushed over JK Rowling as my favorite author and the world she created, its understandable that I would pick her world.

As much as I would love the thought of going to Kings Cross and be at Platform 9 3/4. Riding the Hogwarts Express into Hogsmeade to go to Hogwarts. As appealing as it sounds to go shopping at Diagon Alley and have lunch at The Leaky Cauldron...I am also drawn to another book, CS Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

Yes, I am attracted to the fantasy genre of books. I like escaping into a world that isn't mine.

I first read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe in 2005 while living in Oxford and waiting for Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince to be published.

While most individuals read the Narnia books as kids, I was rediscovering a new love of reading and didn't get the opportunity to read the Narnia books until I was an adult.

I wished I had read them as a kid, because I could imagine wanting to enter that series of books. Mostly because I love the sibling dynamic of the Pevensies. Older brother Peter trying to take care of his brothers and sisters, Susan trying to keep the peace between them all, Edmund hating being in his brother's shadow, and little Lucy just wanting to be heard. 

I would have liked to have been the 5th Pevensie and been with them on their adventures through Narnia. I would have loved to have met Aslan and walked and talked with him. However, I do know Aslan, but I know him by a different name.

Day 2: Favourite Author

This one is an obvious one for me. My choice may not make sense since I didn't list one of her books as my favourite. But I have to say, J.K. Rowling is my favourite author.

People have criticized that the first two books in the Harry Potter series don't showcase her best work. In a way I have to agree with them. They are quick and enjoyable reads, but Philosopher's Stone has some inconsistencies and Chamber of Secrets can kind of drag in some parts. However, in my opinion, by the time you get to Book 3 (Prisoner of Azkaban), you can clearly see the richness of her writing from the characters and their back stories to this overall sub society (Wizarding World) that she has created.

I think what I love best about Rowling is that she created this whole other world down to the littlest details much like in the fashion of C.S Lewis with Narnia and JRR Tolkin with Lord of the Rings.

The great thing about her 'world' is that you can get lost in it and totally get immersed into that world, so much so that words like 'Muggle' and 'Patronus' become part of your everyday language (or maybe that is just me.)

Rowling has such a vivid imagination I can't help but be jealous of how detailed it is and how well she transferred what she saw onto the page for others to see and enjoy.

Aside from this fantasitcal world she has created, the characters in her series, regardless if they are good or evil, are flawed. Even our hero, Harry Potter, who can be arrogant and a bit of a martyr sometimes, is wonderfully flawed. But he eventually learns from his mistakes, sometimes the hard way and at the expense of others.

I also love that the overall importance of love and friendship is the message throughout the books. What separates Harry from Lord Voldemort are his [Harry's] choices and his capacity to love, and understand its importance in his life. I like what Stephen King says about Harry Potter:

"Harry Potter is about confronting fears, finding inner strength and doing what is right in the face of adversity. Twilight is about how important it is to have a boyfriend."

— Stephen King

Edit to add: I started reading the Harry Potter series when I was a year into TTC.  When everything with trying to have a baby became too much; I could escape the ickyness of my reality and lose myself in Harry Potter's world. It was by far the best written distraction I had until the series was complete in 2007. I mourned the end of my distraction, but you know, the great thing about a completed series of books is that they are still there to read from the beginning again. In my opinion, the series never gets old.

Day 1 Favorite Book

I signed up for NaBloPoMo this month to help me to focus on my writing. This month the theme is fiction, and today the topic is My Favorite Book.

I remember when I had finally chosen a major after three years taking classes at a community college. I knew I loved writing, so the guy at the Transfer Center recommended Creative Writing as a major. However, did you know that if you wish to be an effective writer, you must also be an avid reader.

This revelation hit me hard, because I wasn't a fan of reading, yet my major was English with an emphasis in Creative Writing (ironic, yes?). In high school, I got by on my extensive collection of Cliffs' Notes, instead of reading the novels assigned for book reports. There would be the odd book chosen that had not been adapted by Uncle Cliff and I had to do the book report the old fashion way - I had to read it.

But then in college I had finally chose a major - English, the professors had assigned tons of books in their assignments. The first hectic yet rememberable semester, I took two English classes one was called "Readings of the Novel" and the other was "English Lit 402". That was the semester I was introduced to Jane Austen and Helen Fielding, and I never looked back.

I had first been assigned to read Pride and Prejudice for my English Lit 402 class, and I instantly fell in love with Elizabeth Bennett and Mr Darcy. I was amazed at how Ms Austen could create such a memorable, clever, and funny comedy of manners and at the same time show the different interpretions of love.  Even though I love this book it is not my favorite.

In this same class I had to choose a novel by a modern English author to finish off the semester. Okay. I was talked into reading Bridget Jones' Diary, by a classmate of mine who was also taking the same two English classes as me.

I instantly fell in love with this book. I know it isn't To Kill a Mockingbird or The Great Gatsby or some other masterful work of fiction. But it made me laugh during a time when I myself was struggling with love and the idiots I was somehow attracting.

Bridget Jones' Diary is a modern adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. If I hadn't been assigned Pride and Prejudice I most likely would not have been able to appreciate Bridget Jones' Diary. I laughed out loud reading this book, people thought I was crazy. Its filled with such great British humour you can't help by cheer for Bridget as she bumbles her way from the loverat Daniel Cleaver (Wickham) to snobby yet reserved Mark Darcy (Mr Darcy).

I think at the time I had read BJD I was able to appreciate the book more because I was single, like her. Being showered with attention from the wrong person, like her. Neurotic about not finding the right person, like her. Also, I think that was the first time I really became a fan of reading.

I wasn't read to as a child, so the appreciation of books wasn't something that was instilled in me. My mom was a single mother and worked 40+ hours a week. Part of her job was reading manuals all day so by the time she got home she didn't want to read.

I did learn to appreciate books as an adult, so now having to choose my favorite is a hard one. But my choice is the one that helped me become a fan of reading.

Invisibility Cloak

If you haven't figured out by now I'm a huge Harry Potter fan (shhh, don't tell my my mom, really if you know her don't tell her). One of the things I love about HP, besides the story, the characters, and the entire world JK Rowling has created, are the little bits of magical items associated with the world of Harry Potter.

I love Harry's Invisibility Cloak. It had once belonged to his father, James. In Book 1 Harry receives it as a Christmas gift from Dumbledore with a note that instructs Harry 'to use it well'. Throughout the series, Harry takes Dumbledore on that offer (sneaking out of bed after curfew (book 1 & 2), sneaking into Hogsmeade (book 3), eventually using it for protection (book 6) while on the run (book 7)). I think one of my favorite times that he uses the Cloak is in Book 4.  Its for something really simple, and understated. He uses it simply because he doesn't want to be noticed.

I know Invisibility Cloaks are not real. There are some days I wish they were real because I'd love to have one. Just to have one so I can go about my day unnoticed by people.

I don't know what that says about me. Maybe because there are some days that I just don't wish to be noticed or seen. Because if I'm not seen, I don't have to answer questions about how I'm feeling, or what I'm thinking. And if people don't know what I'm feeling or thinking, they won't judge me.

This all sounds really depressing. I know, but it was something that I was thinking about. I don't feel like this all the time. Generally I like being around people, but mostly as a silent observer and not really a vocal participant. I think it also depends on my mood and what kind of group setting I'm in. I realize that I deal really well one on one or a small group setting. Large groups still kind of freak me out.

I'm just having a hard time with the waiting. I think I'll always have a hard time with it. I think its affecting me more because of the pregnant women I see every week at church. Hence, the need for an Invisibility Cloak. I'm happy for them, don't get me wrong. I truly am happy for them. Its not their fault I can't get pregnant.

I just wonder when will it ever be my turn. When am I going to be a mom? Will I ever get the opportunity? Am I meant to be one? Or is this adoption just something that we are supposed to do as part of our journey like with the IF treatments? IF treatments didn't result in a child for us, and I don't know if this adoption will either. I hope it will, but I don't know if it will.

And the thing is, the ache will still be there once their babies come and I'll still be waiting...

So Harry Potter, Happy Birthday. And if you aren't using your Invisibility Cloak on an Auror mission, I'd really like to borrow it.

Jumping the Shark

If you don't know what this term means then you either don't watch tv or you were born after 1985. It refers to when in a tv show, whether it be an hour long drama, or a half-hour tv sitcom, makes a desperate attempt and often absurd execution in their season plot line that virtually renders the show unwatchable. In other words, its television suicide.

In my opinion, this usually happens more commonly in half-hour sitcoms when one of the main characters (in many cases the 'mom') gets pregnant.

I remember when Elyse Keaton on Family Ties got pregnant and after she had the baby the show was okay, but it wasn't the same. The family dynamic changed not only between Steven and Elyse, but also the three siblings (Alex, Mallory and Jennifer) to accomdate Andrew (who seemed to age 5 years in one season).

I remember when I was a kid not liking it when sitcoms would do that. The same thing happened on Growing Pains, again changing the dynamic of the show between the characters. I don't think I watched it after that.

Even on Friends, when Rachel got pregnant I didn't like it, but I watched the rest of the season and the show until it wrapped for good in 2004. That season just happened to be the funniest season Friends had since season 6 (in my honest opinion).

I'm about to say something controversial on here, and some of you might not like it. But I wouldn't be accurately expressing myself if I didn't voice it.

There is a genuine joy and yet a constant fear that I have at the prospect of a baby entering our family of two dynamic.

Its been just the two of us for more than 10 years. Its something that I've been used to for all our married life, and to be quite honest those years have been beyond wonderful, dynamic to be exact.

I love having Michael all to myself. I'm grateful that we can still have 'Date Night'. We can go to Disneyland at a moments noice (or when our passes allow). Go to the movies every weekend in the summer. Stay up late, and sleep in. *sighs* All these things sound so stupid and petty, but its what I'm used to and what I'm comfortable with.

Its these things that I savour to keep me sane and prevent me from wallowing in self-pity.

I'm grateful for a freedom we have that most of our friends don't seem to have anymore now that they have children.

I think a part of me is scared of losing that freedom, of having to share Michael with someone else.

Overall, I guess I just want some reassurance that when the dynamics do change, I'll be up to scratch.

New Laptop

I got a new laptop and it arrived today. The FedEx guy was really sweet, he asked me if I was in school. Granted, I do look like I'm 23 years old, so I don't really blame him. I should have just said yes.

Now that I have my own laptop I don't have an excuse to not focus more on writing. 

When I was laid off a number of people told me told me that I should write a book. I laughed it off. But a number of people at my church, who know our story and our struggle, kept suggesting I write a book about our journey with infertilty. This kind of made me a bit upset. Is that all the see me as? The infertile young woman at their church?

But the more I thought about it. The more it really started to make sense.

When we were in Columbus in June, a question came to my mind. What kind of book would I have wanted to read while in the midst of our infertility journey? I did find a handful books, some of them with Christian themes and others that were not.

While I did find some helpful advice, most, if not all of them, had this kind of fairy-tale ending that just made me feel even worse about my situation.

I decided that it would be a good thing for me to write a book about our journey. Whether anything comes of it, I don't know. But I think it would be good just to write and share. It might help someone. It might not, don't know. I know it will help me to write everything out.

I panicked the other day about the prospect of having to organize my "project". I'm not an organized type of person. However, if I'm attempting to write a book, I'm going to have to learn to be organized.

This sarcastic voice inside my head said, "Its easy, just break it down in three big parts, Beginning, Middle, End". Smart@$! So I'm attempting to do that and just fill in the blanks and create an outline.

It should be fun :)

Days like these

I really don't have much to update and therefore not much to say in terms of our adoption journey. It feels rather odd to have a blog when I have nothing really to blog about.

I woke up this morning with a familiar tightening in my chest, which really doesn't bode well for the rest of my day. Because now I'm trapped at home wary of going anywhere public in fear that I may go into full on anxiety-attack mode and fall apart at the slightest question directed at me.

These don't happen often...about once, twice maybe three times a month. It was worse when I was working, because I didn't have the luxury of staying home like I do now. I'd have to grin and bear it all the while struggling to breathe and counting down the hours till my shift ended.

When I'm like this its hard to look for a distraction. Usually I'll find one in reading a bit of fiction our watching a movie (mostly action - the fast pace action sequences are great for my senses). But typically the distraction doesn't last and I'm back struggling to breathe or find the reason why I'm in the state that I'm in.

I wish I knew what triggered them? Is it hormonal? Probably. Am I making these attacks happen? I don't know.

You'd think that since I'm not working that the anxiety attacks would stop. Yeah, I thought so too, but no.

I don't really want to look for a job, and I feel guilty for thinking that. I try to compensate by attempting to be the best housewife ever, but sometimes I even suck at that. Or maybe I'm just being too hard on myself.

Its not that I don't want to work, heck if I was getting paid to write movie reviews that would be the BEST. JOB. EVER. I just don't want to work in a customer service setting, and for whatever reason I feel that is all I'm qualified to do. To be completely honest, the thought of having to look for a job freaks the heck out of me. Especially if days like these are happening more frequently.

I know I should probably call my doctor and make an appointment. But this is the same doctor that when I gave her the physical form from the adoption agency she said, "Oh, so you're giving up on trying?"

Thanks.

I don't remember if I actually answered her comment or not.

Its also days like these that I wonder if I should go back into therapy. But I don't think they happen enough to constitute $110 a session.

Its sad that its such a beautiful day outside and yet I don't feel the need to leave my apartment.

Sometimes I wish I was a runner. Because I'd run until my lungs screamed in protest and my legs burned with exhaustion. And maybe, just maybe I'd be able to breathe. I'd be forced to take deep breaths from the overexertion and maybe the deep breaths would subside the sobs I can feel itching to escape.

I wonder sometimes if I get these anxiety attacks because I'm depressed. Its possible. I don't eat much on days like these because I'm not really that hungry. I'll eat some cereal, but that's about it. The rest of the day I'll just drink coffee.

Maybe I am depressed. It seems silly, but after Friday the thing I've been looking forward too since 2007 will be here. 



*sniffs* Post-Potter Depression will commence on Sat 7.16


I know you're rolling your eyes at me. I can feel it, but just give me a chance to explain. We aren't doing IF treatments anymore so the things I look forward to now-a-days are small silly things like trips, movies, Disneyland trips, new Doctor Who episodes, or that coveted phone call from our agency telling us that a birthmother is interested in our profile.

Its the little things I look forward to, as silly and daft as they may be, that make this whole journey of nothing happening bearable. Especially on days I'd rather stay in bed in the safe confines of my apartment.

Its Been a Month

Its been a little over a month since I had been laid off from my job. I have to say that I'm actually doing pretty well.

I'm not going to lie, the first two weeks were pretty awkward and I was still trying not to overanalyse why I had been laid off.

But now a month later, I'm actually quite relieved and a little more settled into my current unemployment status. The way I see it, my boss actually did me a favour.

I no longer dread having to get up out of bed to face people and their nosy questions. I can go to my former place of work to just workout and not be forced to talk about me.

At the beginning of June, Michael and I had planned to go to Columbus, OH to attend a convention. Well, technically he was attending the convention I was going for moral support. I was a little nervous about going, more so because of my unemployment status. There would be people there that I hadn't seen in a while and others that I would be meeting for the first time.  I didn't really fancy answering the question, "So Jonelle, what do you do?" or the other question we all love to hear "Do you have children".

Aside from getting stranded overnight in Dallas with no fresh set of clothes or toiletries, and having my luggage missing for a couple of hours without anyone at A.mer.ican Air.lines.helping us to recover it, (I will never check a bag in or fly with A.me.ric.an Air.lines ever again) our time in Columbus wasn't half bad...except on the day of the Reunion dinner.

Every year at convention they have a Reunion dinner for the graduates of the college associated with our denomination. For some reason my anxiety was so high I couldn't breathe. I was fearing all kinds of things mostly questions being thrust at me by people I didn't know. Like the "kids question", the "what do you do, Jonelle" question, all of which are safe questions, but not for me.

I could feel the beginnings of a freakout coming on as people I didn't know were arriving in the restaurant.  A handful of people I did know where sitting elsewhere and all the unknowns seemed to gravitate to us.  I tried to calm myself down by reading the dessert menu, which only seemed to make me hungrier.

I did made it to the bathroom before the freakout surfaced and I exploded into tears. I was there in the stall trying to calm myself down, taking deep breaths, and trying to picture myself at my happy place - Disneyland, (which is hard to do when there is Italian music playing the background).

Lucky for us a couple we did know sat in front of us. She and her boyfriend had no idea how much at ease their presence was to us...well to me.

Since being laid off I've decided to focus a good portion of my time to writing. Some of that writing hasn't included my blog (so sorry). Mostly because there are certain topics that I want to write about that I can't include on here and other mini projects that I've started and need to finish before starting a new project. I've decided that if I'm going to seriously focus on my writing I can't be sharing a laptop with Michael, so I'm getting my own laptop. YAY!!!

...and the Hits Just Keep on Coming

Tuesday toward the end of my 4 hour shift my boss took me outside to talk to me about the schedule. We talked and essentially we didn't end up talking about the schedule. Instead, she told me she would "have to let me go" a.k.a. laid off. Okay.


I took the news fairly well, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised, or sad. The odd thing was I was overcome by this overall feeling of relief. I hadn't been happy at my job for a while. I love the people I work with and the person I work for, but lately the members have been a bit picky about the stupidest things and after a while one tends to break under the constant unnecessary criticism.

I was one of those people that cracked during a most unfortunate week. It only happened once and I apologized for my behaviour, but the damage had been done.

This past Friday, on my day off, I heard some news that had brought me to tears. Basically this news had made me question things I shouldn’t be questioning. Things like, “What is wrong with us?” “Why hasn’t a birthmother chosen us?” “Why them? They just put their book in. We’ve had ours in since August.”

I was a bit out of sorts that day. Luckily I didn’t have to work; otherwise I would have been a basketcase. I really felt that I needed to text my boss about my days since I knew she was having a hard time with payroll. So I texted my boss telling her that I understood she was stressed about payroll and I volunteered to drop my days from three to one.

The following Tuesday I was laid off complete with a check for my last day.

*sigh*

I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t at all surprised by this. In fact I was shocked. Laid off, let go, isn’t that the same thing as being fired? Michael says no, fired means it was a performance issue, but in a way it was a performance issue, wasn’t it?

I’m trying not to think of the reason why I was chosen to be the one to be laid off. Thinking about finding the reason why just makes my head hurt.

I think the real kicker is that I didn’t get to leave on my own terms. In the past, all the other jobs I’ve had I was able to leave on my own terms. I’ve never been laid off before.

It sounds pathetic, but I feel cheated out of a proper goodbye with my co-workers. I would have liked to have had the chance to tell them how much I enjoyed working with them. Now when I see them it just feels weird…like it was my fault I got sacked.

I’m thankful that my boss and I departed on good terms. It would have been awful if it had been an angry parting.

Once the dust settled, I realized that this job was the longest one I had ever had. I was a circuit coach at Cu.rv.es for 5 years. I loved my time there and the friends that I made, but it was probably time for me to leave.

I never thought she would actually let me go. I was cheeky enough to believe that my job was secure because I was in charge of so much stuff and I was good at it. If she needed a letter written, I wrote it. If she needed to find something on the computer, I found it. I knew everything about our software that most of my co-workers did not. But I guess she doesn’t need me anymore.

Another thing that is bothering me is that I’m not sure what to do now. I don’t feel like I have a ton of options. Sure, I’m college educated, but my degree is in Creative Writing. I can probably work in an office, but I don’t want to do that. I can’t even imagine having to look for another job right now. I doubt there are many jobs out there that don’t involve working with the public.

Michael told me I didn't need to look for a job right away, which I'm thankful. He does feel that I should get a job just because he feels staying home isn't good for me. He might be right.

Right now I'm enjoying my time at home. I just wish I had left my job to care for a baby.

Adoption is a Quick Easy Fix for Infertility a.k.a Just Adopt if you Can’t Have Children

Infertility Myth: Adoption is a Quick Easy Fix for Infertility a.k.a Just Adopt if you can’t have children.

 This one, at least to me, seems like an obvious busted myth. Who in their right mind would think that adoption is an easy fix for an infertile couple? However, I know there are people out there that think that adoption is much easier than getting pregnant on one's own. This week, April 24th - April 30th is National Infertility Awareness Week, a week Resolve.org sets aside to educate the public about the pain of Infertility. This year Resolve.org has encouraged infertility bloggers to "Bust an Infertility Myth".

I took it upon myself to set things straight to those individuals who think those of us who have chosen to pursue domestic infant adoption after infertility have it "easy".

A little history. When we realized that trying to have a baby naturally wouldn't be easy, we took the appropriate steps needed to ensure that we tried all the options available to us. After two miscarriages, two years of failed infertility treatments and the financial and emotional exhaustion of treatment, we made the final decision to stop all treatment and any other pursuits to try to get pregnant naturally. That decision didn't come easy by any means.

We decided that domestic infant adoption would be the next step in building our family. But deciding to adopt, and being emotionally ready to take those steps to make it happen were much harder than we anticipated.

I don't think many people realize that after years of trying to get pregnant and not being able to, adoption isn't the quick easy fix. Because to them, when a couple adopts they don't have to deal with weight gain, morning sickness, swollen ankles, muscles stretching, pelvic bones dislocating, stretch marks and other things associated with being pregnant. According to them the adopting couple just gets a baby.

They often don't understand that coming to the decision to adopt, means having to resolve the issues infertility has already created in the infertile couple- grief, loss, shame, inadequacy, insecurity. Not to mention that we, the infertile couple, must mourn the dream of having our own children and the experiences that come with it.

Mourning a dream isn't easy, but I do feel it is necessary if adoption is to be pursued.

Who wants to carry around those things with them when they adopt? I know I didn't, so we made the decision to go into grief counseling to help us not only be emotionally ready for adoption but also to help us live.

I remember the thought of having to endure a home study had scared me to death. What if the social worker didn't think we were emotionally ready for adoption? What if our infertility history prevented us from being approved? What if he/she didn't think adoption was a good fit for us?

I didn't have anything to worry about. Our social worker was very pleased that we had taken the steps to become emotionally ready not only in our preparation for adoption but in life in general.

Still, having to deal with applications, autobiographical questionnaires, invasive interviews about our life and parenting pursuits, reference letters to see if we'd be capable parents, physical exams to see if we are healthy enough to care for a child, fingerprinting, background checks, and employment verifications were not the easiest things to open ourselves up to. Especially when there are people out who shouldn't be having babies and they get to without having to endure a home study and all its requirements.

Once all the requirements for domestic infant adoption are completed the experience still doesn't get any easier. Now we sit and wait to see if our efforts will come to fruition.

The wait is unnerving, because now the years of trying to have a baby are now added to the time waiting to be matched.

There is no telling when or if we will be chosen by a birthmother. Doubt starts to creep in and out as the months pass with no news of anyone wanting to see our profile. Loss returns as yet another year passes and no baby in our arms. Anxiety never really goes away as we remain hyperaware of being asked inappropriate questions from strangers.

Most of all, I think the hardest of all is the relinquishment of control. Our child is literally in someone else's hands or more specifically someone else's womb, and truthfully that can be a scary concept to swallow.

Before, it was up to an agency to see whether we were good enough to be parents. Now, it’s up to a birthmother to see if we are good enough to parent her child.

Does that sound like an easy thing to go through? No, because nothing is ever as easy as anyone assumes.

Myth BUSTED!

I Hate My Ovaries

I'm late again, and I blame my ovaries. They are not known for doing anything I ask them to do. They don't produce eggs, just cysts and I blame them for making my cycles long.

I'm a bit bummed. I thought my cycles were regulating. For the last two years, after our last miscarriage in August 2009, my cycles had been coming fairly consistently, without the aid of icky birth control pills (a.k.a Crazy in pill form). It had been nice to have something normal occurring for a change, even if we weren't able to get a pregnancy out of it.

Every once in a while I'd have a long cycle, but then it would regulate and I was "normal" once again.

During those long cycles I had hoped that maybe I was pregnant. Maybe I had defied the odds and my lazy left ovary had decided to produce an egg instead of cysts. Or that the overachieving right ovary, who doesn't have a tube, had decided to produce a good egg and that egg had decided cross to the other side to the left tube. Sounds absurd, but my RE had told me it could happen.

I tell myself that I'll wait until CD 40 and that will be the day I'll test. I take a test and of course its negative. I start my period the next day or the next week (one time I started my period the day I decided to take a test) and I beat myself up for being so stupid for thinking that the test would be positive this time.

Back to Present Day.

I'm late again, and I don't want to take a test even if today is CD 44.

The ovulation pain I thought I felt three weeks prior was most likely a cyst rupturing. The spotting that occurred a week later was most likely not implantation bleeding, but the result of said cyst rupturing.

So really there is no need for me to take a test, because clearly I'm not pregnant.

I wish I still didn't hope for it to happen.

I wish I didn't think about it anymore.

I wish my ovaries worked.

I wish I had both tubes.

I wish I had regular cycles, because that would mean that a part of me was somewhat normal and not broken.

PETA Responds to My Email

Well the feeling of empowerment was short lived as I received a response to my email that sent them Tuesday night. The response was what I expected, totally preachy and missing the point entirely. I had a response all ready for them until the reality of what I was engaging in hit me harder than a sucker punch to the stomach.  No matter what I say them, they are still going to turn it around on me as being uncaring and uncivil.

I feel like no matter what I say them it will be like speaking to a brick wall. They really are an infuriating organization. Campaigning the welfare of animals at the expense of the human race. Don't get me wrong I'm all for the spaying / neutering of pets. My own pet is neutered. But what does offering a vasectomy have to do with honoring of National Infertility Awareness Week? Nothing. One has nothing to do with the other, and they still don't see the insensitivity in linking the two together.

In their response they justified their choice of this campaign with two worthless paragraphs on breeding whether by choice or not of ANIMALS and compared it to humans. WHAT?

Part of me wants to respond. I already have a draft penned and ready to type out. The other part of me is telling me not to. Does that make me a coward? Probably.

I guess I'm just blown away by the outright thoughtlessness and insensitivity of this whole situation. Did they really think IFers weren't going to take offense by them offering a free vasectomy in honor of NIAW? Its the biggest slap in the face to IFers and they don't even see it. They don't even have a clue, and I'm not sure my response will provide that clearity for them. Because clearly, according to them, I'm in the wrong.

When I really think about it, I'm disheartened that the saving of pets/animals and the urging of spaying and neutering of pets (and now humans) is being made at my expense and the expense of the entire IF community. But that is what PETA does, save animals at the expense of the entire Human race.

Here is their reponse to my email:

Dear Ms S

Thank you for contacting PETA about your objections to our contest offering a free vasectomy. We are sorry that you are offended and are taking this as a personal attack. We did not intend it to be. Our goal was to bring about discussion of animal overpopulation, the need to spay and neuter dogs and cats, and the impact of human overpopulation on the environment.


A lot of men have entered the contest, and there is great interest in it, which focuses attention on the tragic suffering and death of homeless dogs and cats. Furthermore, the cost of a vasectomy is not cheap, and not everyone wants to reproduce. Having one’s own child may be a compelling urge for some, but nobody should condemn those who choose to avoid causing pregnancy or any organization that provides them with a means to do so. Many who choose to have a vasectomy consider it a moral conundrum for some of us to be spending thousands of dollars trying to reproduce ourselves when there are homeless children, including some with disabilities, who want for homes, and when the environment is being ravaged as human population increases. Since most of the e-mails we are receiving from people who’ve read about our contest on infertility blogs are quite uncivil, perhaps some soul searching needs to be done on the part of those who would rather throw stones than engage in discourse.

PETA works very hard to prevent the births of puppies and kittens who will end up abandoned in animal shelters or struggling to survive on the streets. Breeding, both purposeful and accidental, is responsible for the euthanasia of millions of these loving companions each year. Sterilization is both the easiest and the most effective means available of ensuring animals’ happiness and safety. Male animals who have been neutered are far less likely to roam far from home or fight. Neutering greatly diminishes and possibly eliminates reproductive urges (which are not the same in dogs as they are in humans). In addition, these animals will never get testicular cancer and run less risk of contracting prostate disease. Female animals who have been spayed avoid the trauma of giving birth and will no longer go into heat.

Consider the fate of the millions of unwanted animals whose parents were never spayed and neutered. Born into a hostile world, they are caged among strangers at animal shelters or, worse, abandoned on the sides of roads. They are run over by cars and attacked by other animals. They are infected with painful, contagious, and deadly diseases. Those unlucky enough to run into cruel humans are often drowned, beaten with baseball bats, suffocated in plastic bags, stabbed, shot, starved, set on fire, used as bait, and tortured in countless other ways. And the saddest tragedy of all is that before they meet some gruesome death, they reproduce, and the cycle of animal suffering continues.

Thank you again for contacting us and for the opportunity to share our thoughts.

Sincerely,

The PETA Staff

Yeah...and as you can read, they just don't get it.