Update on the last 74 Days

The last 74 days have been a whirlwind of emotions and events. Two days after I wrote this post, something interesting happened. Something wonderful that we have been waiting for finally happened. We got "the call" from our first agency (the one out of state).

A young woman had given birth that morning and hadn't made and adoption plan (though she had all intentions of making one, she thought she had 3 more weeks to make one). Her doctor told her about an agency he knew (our agency) and called them. Two representatives from our agency came over with LifeBooks for her to look at. Her criteria: 1) An infertile couple, 2) a couple that have been waiting the longest.

There were other books in that pile, but we were told that she kept referring to our book. She liked that we lived in CA and that we like to travel.

So we dropped everything and flew to Tulsa, OK.

We didn't sleep well that night. We were in such a daze, I'm surprised we were able to book our flight.

When we arrived at the airport L from our agency was there to pick us up. She gave us some information about the birthmom. I think I was in the mentality that we were "auditioning" to be the adoptive parents.

We arrived at the hospital and meet K, the birthmom...our birthmom, and I have to say that after only conversing with her those 20 minutes, I felt like I had known her forever. There was an instant connection with her that I didn't feel last year with J.

We talked about names and she loved the name we picked out, so she let us name her.

Then they brought the baby in, and I was encouraged to pick her up and hold her.

I was estatic and scared.

It was awesome, even when she started crying as I disturbed her sleep, jostling her in my shaky arms.

I held her close, whispering to her that I was happy to meet her, and apologizing to her that I didn't sound or smell like the woman she had been getting to know for the last 9 months. She quieted in my arms after a while. I didn't take the crying personal.

The hospital had arranged a room for us. We were told that K wanted the baby in her room for a few hours, but that we would have the baby in ours for the rest of the night.

It was a very surreal couple of hours.

It still hadn't hit us that we had been picked to parent this baby.

1 day old


 

 

Our new daughter Ariana* was born on October 5, 2012 weighing in at 6 lbs 14 oz, 19 inches long. While staying in Tulsa until K's court date and the ICPC was completed, A faced some health challenges that forced us to have her re-admitted to the hospital. She stayed there for 10 days, but made a full recovery amazing her doctors and nurses.

We came come on Nov 1st (yes, we stayed in Tulsa for nearly a month), and life with a newborn has been both challenging and amazing. I wouldn't trade it for anything.



1 month old - 8lbs 2oz.

She really is a good baby. She started smiling really early and while others told me they weren't social smiles, I like to think that she smiled just for me. She will let you know when she is hungry, and if she has a very dirty diaper.

2 months old - 9lbs 4oz.

Because she was a preemie (born 4 weeks early), she is still a bit tiny for her age. She still fits into Newborn size onesies, but because her legs are so long, she fits into the 0-3 month pants and pjs.

I love when she smiles at me and follows me with her eyes. I love to hear to coo and gurgle at me when I'm talking to her.

I am thankful that she is our daughter and I love being her mom.


*I will refer to her in future posts as "A".

She Turned a Year Old Yesterday...

It's a date I shouldn't remember, but I do.

I wish my brain could forget it, but it can't.

She was almost ours; she was almost our daughter.

I hate that I remembered her birthday.

I didn't want to say anything to Michael. I didn't except him to remember, and I wasn't going to hold it against him if he forgot. I was actually avoiding him, because I didn't want to tell him why I was sad. But when he asked what was wrong, I started to cry and said,

"She's a year old today."

"I know. I know it's her birthday."

Hearing him say that was like a breath of fresh air. I felt so reassured that he remembered too. I didn't feel so alone in my grief. I started to cry in earnest. Telling him that I need to forget this date. It's not healthy to keep remembering and holding onto something that is not mine.

I have to let her go if I'm to move onto to the next match, whenever that may be.

Happy Birthday, baby girl. Wherever you are, I hope you had a great birthday yesterday. I need to stop thinking about what our lives would be like if you were in it. It's not healthy for me to keep wishing you were here with us. It's not good for me to remember how old you would be each 3rd of the month.  I'm sorry things didn't workout. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to be your mom. Have a good life. Be a good girl. This is goodbye.

Love,
Jonelle

The Security of a Routine

I have realized over the past couple of weeks that I like having a routine. It might seem boring to others, living by a routine, but I have found that there is a security that a routine provides.

Routines are predictable, you can foresee what you will be doing and that knowledge is comforting because there are no surprises.

I wasn't always like this. I used to like surprises, especially if that "surprise" was of the gift variety.

However, living with infertility and the struggles that come with it, the "surprises" I have endured over the past couple of years haven't been all that forgiving.

SURPRISE!! You have Polycystic Ovaries!

SURPRISE!! You will need fertility drugs to help you conceive!

SURPRISE!! That sharp pain in your abdomen, that's your tube rupturing!

SURPRISE!! Your very last IUI turned out to be a chemical pregnancy!

SURPRISE!! Your adoption match has failed!

I hate surprises. I hate infertility.

Lately for the past month, I've had to fit in a new task in my weekly routine - my new old job. Yes, you read that right - I'm back at my old job. Part of the deal in returning was that I would only work two days a week, Mondays and Wednesdays nights, no morning shifts, and no responsibilities.

So far all the terms have been met, which to my relief and sanity has made for a pleasant working experience. But this week I was asked to come in and work a short shift on Tuesday. I didn't realize that a short detour from my normal routine would throw me off so badly.

All day I felt a familiar tightness in my chest, and I was struggling to catch my breath. It was an anxiety attack, all because my routine got thrown off kilter.

I felt like a bit of an idiot getting all worked up over a wrinkle in my week. It wasn't a major change, I was only coming into work for an hour and a half. Big deal. But, why was I getting so worked up over something so little? Because there was a change to my routine.

I think its because I have found the value in the small routines that I have and the security and stability that they provide me. There are no surprises in them, only a predictability that I find comforting.

However, when it comes to food, I don't like routine, so at least there is some spontaneity in my life.

The Darkside of Procrastination

or How is an Adoption profile like a Horcrux?

For the last couple of months I've have been procrastinating getting our profile done and sent to our adoption agency. My brain has been constantly fighting with me about having to do the work.

In all honesty, I don't want to do the work. I feel like I've (we've) been doing the work for 9 years now to try to have a child and doing all the work hasn't done anything for us.

Part of what was fueling this feeling of anger, sadness and resentment was two friends of ours had recent placements within a year or less of waiting...and here we are going on two years and still waiting.

And it doesn't help that it's coming upon a year since our failed adoption and everyone around us is getting matched. Hating myself for being so angry and stubborn, I had some words with God, and naturally He won.

As gently as possible He revealed to me an interesting point: If I don't complete this profile and send it in, I can't honestly say that I did everything in my power, or everything that was asked of me (us) to further our endeavors to add a child to our family.

He's right. If I don't finish it, I'll always wonder what would have happened had I finished it. And not finishing it, would be giving up on this entire journey.

*sigh*

I finished our profile yesterday and sent it in.

I'm a harsh critic of things I do, and while I like the story part of our profile, I'm not excited about the finished product. However, Michael and two of our friends that I showed it to, like it. I'm just waiting to hear from our social worker to find out if there are any additions or corrections that need to be made.

I'm elated that this part of the adoption process is finished. I had such a hard time with it. It seemed like such a simple task, but I quickly discovered that it was not so simple.

My two friends, L and N were keeping me on task with this profile as they were eager to see it finished. One particular Monday, I was asked what part of the profile I was having trouble finishing, and that is when I started crying and ranting about having to do all this work, when I felt others didn't have to do anything*.

My new good friend N (who is a huge Potter-head and someone I get to geek out with every Monday morning about Doctor Who) said this to me in the midst of my tears, "It's [the profile] your Horcrux**. It's an object that you are having to pour your soul into, and that is hard to do."

Leave it to someone to use Harry Potter as a way to illustrate my difficulty with making an adoption profile.

So having poured my soul onto a piece of paper, complete with pictures was both exhausting and exilarating.

And now we wait...again.

*To my RL friends, I apologize for making this assumption. I know you each had your own struggles to add to your families, and I know it wasn't easy being in the midst of the struggle. I was sad when I said this, and I apologize for saying it.

(**Yes, I understand that a Horcrux is a dark object in the Potter-verse, but the sentiment about having to pour my soul into an object (profile) was spot on.)

Awkward Moments Strike Again

It's times like these that I feel compelled to wear a sign that says,

"No, I don't have kids. Yes, I want them, but after 9 years of trying, I haven't been able to have them, so I got cats instead."

I actually said this to someone upon being asked, "So when are you going to have babies?"

It was only my third day back at my old job (yes, you read that right. I'm filling in for my old boss while she is on vacation.), and I already had the Dreaded Question directed at me twice in one shift.

*sigh* WTFrick?

I sometimes wish I was quick enough to say, "beep! I'm sorry the quota of personal questions has been filled. To proceed further, either find a new topic of conversation, or pay a personal question fee of $50 dollars. Starbucks cards are also accepted."

Or I can skip the warning altogether and go directly to the personal question fee. I should charge a personal question fee.

After I said that to her, she didn't look me in the face. I guess I was too honest for her liking, but really, she had it coming. She only had herself to blame. If you'd have been there, if you'd have heard her, I bet you would have done the same.

I work again tonight. I'm hoping my Sheild of Sarcasm and wrist cuffs of Snark will repell any incoming jabs at me.

An Apology to My Readers

I haven't been a good blogger. Mostly because there really isn't anything to post about because nothing, and I mean nothing has been happening.

We switched agencies, but I haven't had the time to make a profile yet (which is on me and no one's fault). Haven't heard anything from the other agency, which isn't so unusual.

I feel like the only thing happening right now is a constant trigger of sadness and anger. It comes and goes in waves. Some days, weeks I'm fine, and then it all seems to hit me all at once and I'm a crying, blubbering mess.

Its been nearly a year since the failed match and you'd think I'd be over it. I know I can't put a timeline on grief, but I feel like I should be able to.

There are so many thoughts running around in my head, which makes it hard to post things. Also, I feel like whatever I post is about me being angry, feeling forgotten, and not being able to control outcomes.

So an update:

We're still infertile.

We are not trying.

We are still waiting to hear about another match.

People around us are having babies, or being matched with one.


I see the pointlessness of me being angry about something that I have no control over. I understand that being angry doesn't get me anywhere, and overall directing my anger at God is exhausting. I'm just so tired of the struggle, of the work it has taken to try to achieve parenthood.

Its close to 9 years trying to have children and I'm so tired. When will our turn come? Will it ever come?

This is what has been going on with me, and what has been consuming my thoughts.

ETA: I'm not angry at a particular person. If I'm angry at anyone, it's myself (which is a whole different post).

Those Awkward Moments

As some of you know, I was laid off from my job at a womens only gym last year in May. Since then, my former boss encouraged me to still come and work out, so basically I have a free membership.

There are some ladies at this gym that still don't know I am no longer an employee. It makes for an interesting, yet short, conversation that usually ends with me concluding said convo with, "it was a mutual parting."

This past week I had one of the most laughable, yet awkward conversations with a woman who either doesn't listen, or just doesn't process new information. To make things worse, she comes up with these bizarre assumptions about whomever she is conversing with, that it makes her look like...well...an idiot.

Below is an example of a recent conversation with her:

DB*: I've never seen your hair straight before.

Me: *incredulous look on face* My hair isn't straight today. It's curly. (I realize I could have been a little nicer in my response, but really, I don't work there anymore and I had no caffeine in my system to soften my reply.)

DB: Well it's not as curly as I've seen it before. So are you here working, or just working out?

Me: Just working out.

DB: Are you done with school? I thought that was why you left.

Me: What? Yes, I graduated from University 10 years ago.

DB: Have any of your children graduated?

Me: *o_O* Do I look old enough to have childen who are graduating? I don't have any children.

CB*: Oh. Well that's okay too.

Me: *flatly* Thanks.

She is lucky she got me on a good day, even if I didn't have caffeine in me. The encounter was just too laughable to get me mad. She tried so hard to make conversation with me and each question was a total bust. By the time she got to the children topic, I could see she was visibly uncomfortable. It was awesome!

It is a rarity for me to feel this much enjoyment from making someone so uncomfortable. Seriously, I'm not that cruel. But honestly, she was the one asking the questions with reckless abandon. Once she brought up the "kids" question, she had already crossed into "The Danger Zone" (cue Kenny Loggins).

Again, I don't work there anymore, so I didn't feel the urge or see the need to sugar-coat my answers. I had been doing that for the last 5 years when I had been working there. I just find it so rich that some of the women at this gym still feel the constant need to ask such personal questions and that they feel it is my obligation to be completely honest with them. Um, no.

I know on some level I should be ashamed of myself for my actions. Maybe, the things that she said and the questions that she asked weren't so bad. But I'm tired of being the one left uncomfortable after an awkward conversation.


*DB = Dumb Bunny
*CB = Condescending Bunny

Conquering Fears

I'm sure you read in some of my earlier posts, that I have a phobia hierarchy scale. The scale helps me gauge the fear factor that certain things elicit as well as communicate why those things scare me in a particular order.

People laugh at my phobia hierarchy scale, but they understand it and respect it. They may make fun of me for my order of things, but there is a reason for this particular order (spiders>rodents>balloons>clowns>dolls>marine animals), as some things are more tolerable than others. It may not be a good reason, but it's still a reason. I may not be willing to hold a spider or a rodent, but I might be willing to hold a balloon or a doll.

There was another fear that I had that was too embarrassing to put on my hierarchy of phobias. I don't admit it to many people, mostly because I was afraid they wouldn't understand my reluctancy to participate in this particular activity. Most people jump at the chance to do this particular thing that I found myself in the minority as I gradually removed myself from ever wanting to do it.  I kept this fear to myself, because admitting it always brought such humilation.

The fear was driving.

I've never had a desire to do it. I did go through Drivers' Ed in high school (which, was a bit of a joke as the instructor had a glass eye and didn't really explain things all that thoroughly). When it came time to get my permit, I got it, but the only person I had to practice with was my mom. And while she is a good driver, she was a less than encouraging teacher. I think I made her nervous, and that one driving excursion with her resulted in her yelling at me and me crying.

I didn't try driving again until a couple of years later when I got so sick and tired of the unreliabilty of public transportation. The instructor was really patient. She used her own car and had us drive around the city. She helped me refine certain kinks of my driving technique as well as help me prepare for my driving test.


Life happens, and so a couple of more years passed (by this time I was 23, engaged and determined to get my license before I got married). Because I was no longer willing to be on the road again with my mom, I asked a friend to help me brush up on my driving skills. A month later, I got my license, but I still wasn't confident enough to actually drive.

Once Michael and I got married, we got by on one car. I took the bus to work and Michael would pick me up if I worked evenings. I couldn't drive his car anyway as it was a stick. When we moved to England we didn't have a car and had to rely on public transport, but that didn't bother me in the slightest.

When we moved back to CA in the summer of 2005, I knew that it was only a matter of time before I'd have to suck it up and start driving, but the fear was so great I'd start crying and shaking whenever Michael broached the subject.

Again, we got by on one car. I got a job less than a mile from our apartment, so I could walk to work.  The pressure to drive was still there, but not as pressing.

In December 2009 my mom was scheduled to have minor surgery and at the last minute our ride to the hospital fell through. After a five minutes of giving into a panic attack and tears, I called her and told her I would drive us. Surprisingly, this driving excursion with my mom was much smoother than when I had driven with her at 17 years old. She commented on how well I drove, helped me change lanes, and encouraged me the entire drive to the hospital. But I still lacked the confidence to comfortably get behind the wheel.

A month ago, Michael voiced to me that he wanted to get a new car, and now that the Focus was paid off, it was a good time.

I asked him when he had wanted to start looking at new cars, and he said before we leave for ID, so fairly soon. I guess I didn't react the way he thought I should, so he said in the most tender tone of voice possible:

Michael: Babe, you realize that when we go looking for a new car and if we purchase one, you will have to drive the Focus home.

Me: *thinking* *eyes eventually start to go wide* Oh crap! How did I miss that!

Michael: Take your time. Think about it. It doesn't have to be today, but I'd like to start looking in the next week.

Me: *eyes still wide as I jet to fridge for a cupcake, and stuff it in my mouth*

I don't know why this never occurred to me. How did I not see that I'd have to drive the Focus home? Who did I think would be the third person to go with us to look for a car?

*facepalm*

So I did the only thing left to do, I "kissed the frog" as my friend would say, marched into our bedroom where Michael was watching tv, and said, "Lets just do this and get it over with."

I found myself conflicted and almost wishing we wouldn't find a car that day (silly, yes; rational, no). I don't think I really paid attention to anything the car guy said. I was too focused on how I was going to back out of the parking spot we were in, since I hadn't driven in two and half years and completely forgot how to back out.

*headdesk*
Three hours later we had a new car and I was going to have to drive our old car home. I texted my closest friends to pray for me. I even asked for prayers from my FB friends, though not truly detailing what I need prayer for. I was nervous about driving, but not petrified. Michael kept reminding me that I know how to drive, I'm just a bit out of practice. I followed Michael as we took streets coming home.

So for the last two weeks I've been driving around my city, making a point of at least driving everyday even if its only a short distance. Parking lots still make me nervous, as I can park, but I'm not great at it, so I park really far away from other cars until I get better.

I still don't really like driving, but at least now I'm not afraid to do it anymore.

Happy Birthday to Me...

Please show me some love as I weep celebrate the 10th anniversary of my 25th birthday.

Today I enter a new age demographic, the 35-44s. I have a new appreciation for eye cream and skin care products that include ingredients such as retinol and alpha hydroxy.

I'm happy I already workout, this just means that I now must increase my days from 3 to 5 should my metabolism decide to totally stop working.

I'm sure there are foods I should start avoiding, but not today. I'll start avoiding tomorrow. Today, I will have cake, and other things I usually don't eat.

Yesterday I went to Disneyland and wore my 'Happy Birthday' button. I really like it when people say 'Happy Birthday' to me. I love my birthday too much to fussed about turning another year older. Its the only day I can be the center of attention and not worry about being a total @$$.

So, I'm 35 today. I'm the same exact age as Star Wars, The Muppets, and the Seattle Mariners...

...I'm also 4 years older than my mom was when she had me.

Stop it, Jonelle. It's your birthday. Enjoy today. You can wallow in being 35 tomorrow...or Sunday.

I'm Not Apathetic. I'm Just Introverted.

We have been waiting for a match from our agency for awhile (since Dec 2010). But since we've been trying to have a baby since Sept 2003, it feels like we have been waiting forever.

This past December we had the opportunity to transfer to another adoption agency (C) as the agency that did our homestudy (B) (our adoption agency (A) is out of state) merged with this agency (C) here in CA.

Because the two agencies merged (B&C), we were technically already a client of C, we just needed to make it official. We were encouraged to attend an information meeting and because we were considered a special case (we had already taken the classes that were required for DIA which were hosted by our out of state agency and they complied with our state's requirements; and our homestudy was completed) all that was needed of us was to attend the last of their 4 workshops. This last one was on Making a Profile and the different options of Networking your own adoption.

Our social worker tried to break it to me gently that they already have 43 waiting families and if we wanted to expediate our wait we could hire an attorney or facilitator. I was glad I was on the phone, because even then, I had to school my features and think hard about what I was going to say.

The truth is, I'm not desperate to become a parent. Of course, I want to be a parent, but I'm not desperate. There is an ache that I have in my chest that I'm not yet a mom, but the ache is dull, not sharp and piercing as it once was when we were 3 years into our IF journey, not having a clue of where we should go, or what options we had available.

But how do you convey this to your adoption social worker, without seeming insensitive and apathetic? Well, you are careful with your words and mindful of your tone. I was honest, and I told her that we are not desperate. We are doing what we feel God wants us to do, in our next steps of building our family, in the time He wants us to do it. Its not in our budget to hire an attorney. We will be fine waiting.

She seemed happy with my response and didn't think I sounded apathetic at all. Good.

~~~~

We went to the Making the Profile and Networking workshop on Monday . The profile seems fairly straight forward, and doesn't look too hard to make. There is no set pattern to making it, just that we have a recent picture in the front, and that we be ourselves in telling our story.

The networking part of the workshop got me slightly discouraged. The introvert in me panicked at getting myself out there and basically telling the world (or the internet) that we are adopting. I'm not ashamed of our adoption (far from it!) and I have told EVERYONE that is how we are building our family. But making business cards? Posting ads on Google and Facebook about our interest in adopting seemed a little too...out there for me.

The whole time they were playing this You.Tube video of this Adoption Advisor, I kept wondering, 'where is the line being drawn between networking and desperation?'

But my introverted nature was saved when, at the end of the video, the guy said, "Network through outlets that are comfortable for you."

So I think we well do the hardcopy profile (as required) and make a website, so we can link it to agency C's website. Michael also wants to do a video to post on the website. We just have to figure out what we want to say in the video.

It's not that I don't care at all about this, and its not that I don't want to do the extra work. I know it needs to be done, just don't mistake my lack of enthusiam as apathy. I'm just introverted, and extremely cautious.

May ICLW

Hello everyone, welcome to my blog. Its been awhile since I participated in ICLW, and hopefully I will be a little better with posting. Here are little random things about me.

* I love the show Mythbusters. If it is a show that features them blowing stuff up...AWESOME!!! Jonelle like big boom! Favorite episodes include exploding hot water heater, exploding fire extinguisher, red flag to a bull (no explosions, but it was fun to watch) and the non-dairy creamer exploding mushroom cloud.

*I write Harry Potter fanfiction (don't judge, and don't tell my mom).

* Fruit chunks in yogurt and in jam, freaks me out.

*Sarcasm is my love language. It is the glue that binds my marriage together.

*I have a phobias hierarchy (1. Spiders, 2. Balloons, 3. Clowns, 4. Dolls, 5. Squirrels, 6. Marine Animals).

Please share some stuff about you in the comments.

If you would like to read our story and learn how we got to be "Somewhere in the Middle" please go here.
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Don't Ignore...

I remember a time in our infertility journey when I had kept our struggles to ourselves. For six years I had never told anyone about the difficulties we were experiencing trying to have a child. I was too embarrassed and ashamed to admit we had a problem.

Once we decided to stop treatment and to stop actively trying, it didn't really make sense to keep our struggle with infertility a secret anymore. Plus, keeping a secret like infertility to yourself, takes so much work, and to be honest. I was tired of keeping secrets.

Two years ago Resolve.org challenged couples living with infertility to "Take the Pledge". For most of us, this involved us 'outing ourselves' on Face.book about our infertility struggles. I remember feeling apprehensive and nervous at the prospect of admitting to my FB friends that Michael and I have an infertility problem. But I did it, and I was surprised by the overwhelming out pour of support and love from my friends.

Last year we were asked to "Bust an Infertility Myth". I wrote mine in regards to "Adoption is a Quick Fix to an Infertility Problem". Again, it was well received by my friends and I'm sure it gave them a better understanding of the new challenges that Michael and I were dealing with as we pursue Domestic Infant Adoption.

This year during National Infertility Awareness Week the theme is "Don't Ignore Infertility".

Don't ignore infertility.

I know for me, there are times when I'd like to ignore infertility, because there are days - like hearing a pregnancy announcement, walking past the baby aisle at Tar.get, or going to church and stumbling upon a baby dedication; that infertility speaks louder than ever in my ear.

It's all consuming and suffocating, because it is these reminders that trigger the losses I've had to mourn.

But then there are other moments, like two weeks ago when Michael and I spoke in Chapel at his school about our story. Or this week where I feel encouraged and empowered to spread the word, even if it's only on Facebook, about my struggle and frustrations about being an Infertile complete with snarky FB statuses, because I know there are other people just like me doing the exact same thing.

Not all people feel that they can share something as personal as their infertility with others, especially on FB, and that's okay. Its not for everyone. I just hope they are not ignoring the pain that comes with living with infertility.

Don't ignore the pain of infertility, or each other.

One thing that I have learned over the years, with the help of grief counseling, is that there is much grief involved when living with infertility. Feelings of shame, inadequacy, loneliness, and loss are all natural feelings that ought to be dealt with, not ignored.

If left untreated, these feelings tend to remain bottled up and make for a messy, unpleasant meltdown that renders the sufferer housebound hyperventalating, surrounded by snot rags and left with a crying hangover.

Never tell an infertile, that he/she ought to remain busy in order to not have to deal with the pain he/she is currently experiencing. (Yes, that was told to me, and it didn't work, because I was already doing just that, hiding from the pain.)

I find it interesting that when I discover a new someone in my life, either through church or work, that has an infertility history, I seem to gravitate to them. Instantly, I regret that I wasn't able to meet them sooner, because they become a "comrade in arms" with me, so to speak.

In March 2006, Michael and I had reached year 2 1/2 of trying and year 5 of our marriage (when ALL the inappropriate questions about kids and whether or not we want them, seem to start).  Meeting new people had often been a difficult thing for me, mostly because I'm an introvert.

One time, at a school function, we had been seated at a table with a handful of people we didn't know. I was asked by the lady sitting next to me, who looked similar in age to me,

"So do you have children?"

"No," I responded.

"Oh," she said.

She turned to talk to her friend sitting on the other side of her, and didn't speak to me the rest of the night.

I was crushed, and from that day on I had kept our infertility to myself.

No one should have to endure an encounter like this one.

Don't ignore me, or other people with infertility.




*For a better understanding of the disease of infertility please click here.

Panic! At the Happiest Place on Earth and other news

I can't believe I haven't posted on this blog in over a month. As you can see I flaked out of the March Photo Challenge. Sorry Belle at Scrambled Eggs :(  Photos really aren't my thing unless they are of my cats.

Last month on St Patrick's Day, Michael and I celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary. We spent that rainy Saturday trekking to L.A. to see a matinee showing of Green Day's American Idiot: The Musical. It was amazing! The music was great (I have that CD) and the play was awesome, yet sad at the same time.

It was a fun time together with Michael, but I always have a fun time with him.

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The following week we stayed at my mom's timeshare near Disneyland for a few nights. Its a tradition that we go to Disneyland for our anniversary. The last few years my mom has gifted us with either a hotel stay (last year) or lending us her timeshare. The first night was a short night to enjoy the park, so we walked to California Adventure, went on Toy Story Mania, then walked back to Anahiem's Garden Walk for some dinner.

The next day we set aside for all day at Disneyland and California Adventure. I was a little bummed that it was a bit crowded, most likely due to spring break, and with crowding comes a bunch of rides breaking down.

I think what made the crowded day bearable was that the weather was nice, not too hot, but not too cold.

The weird part about that day was that I started to have these weird chest pains. I didn't really pay much attention to them until I found it hard to breathe. I first noticed it when we were in line to get onto Star Tours (I chalked it all to it being a new ride and I was nervous about being on the one where you go underwater...don't like underwater.) But it happened again when we were in line for Space Mountain, Indiana Jones and it was worse when we were in the line for Pirates of the Caribeean.

The pain I was feeling in my chest, the tightness and difficulty to try to catch my breath were all signs of a panic attack...and worse it was at my favorite place, Dis.ney.land.

What was making me have the symptoms of a panic attack, you ask? It was seeing all these babies, of all ages, at every turn. (I realize I had this coming seeing as I'm at Dis.ney.land, but this fact had never bothered me before.) There was such a horrible ache in my heart at seeing all these babies in arms, or holding hands with their parents, and it slowly started to put me over the edge. The reality of our situation was starting to form and take shape in my brain that another year has gone by and we were still not any closer to bringing a child into our family.

When I was in therapy, my counselor had made me visualize "A happy Place" to help me focus whenever I could feel the ugliness of a panic attack start to rise. The happy place I had chosen was Disneyland. But what happens when you start to have a panic attack at your happy place? What do you do when it seems like all the walls are closing in on you? What do you do when your "Happy Place" turns on you? It was so disheartening to realize that my happy place, was no longer a happy place for me.

I made Michael take me to the movies that night, because The Hunger Games had just come out and I had to see it the day it came out. However, the previews before the movie just added to my misery. Apparently there is a movie coming out that centers on expecting parents with the title "What to Expect..." When the preview for that movie came on I literally closed my eyes, stuck my fingers in my ears and hummed loudly...and I might have started crying...it was all too much for that day.

However, I did enjoy the movie despite the disturbing concept. I thought it was a great adaptation of the first book.

---
I'm having a hard time with the concept of turning 35 next month. I realize that getting older isn't anything I can control, and I know that its just a number, but I still don't like it. I even started using eye cream in the hopes that it would miraculously delay my birthday. So far time keeps moving forward, but my eyes look amazing!

I've been contemplating getting a tattoo to commemorate my mid-life crisis at 35. I want a phoenix tattoo on my hip. I haven't found a design that I like yet, but I think I found the shop I want to go to have it done. I thought it was funny that my mom didn't care that I wanted a tattoo, her main concern was that it was done at a place that was clean. "You make sure its a clean place...so-n-so's sister got a tattoo and died two weeks later of Hepatitis C..." Yes, mom.

I haven't asked Michael what he thinks about me getting a tattoo. I think he's okay with it. He's paying for it, after all. I wonder though if I'll have to choose between getting a tattoo or getting a Keurig?

Hmm, new coffee machine or permanent art on my hip? Which of the two will help me transition to 35? The coffee machine will be less painful and possibly a better investment. But the tattoo will be like a rite of passage...

---
As far as the adoption is concerned, we are still waiting. We haven't heard a thing from our agency (which isn't unusual, just annoying). The agency here in CA that did our homestudy has merged with another agency that does DIA. We went to an information meeting of theirs and are strongly considering being one of their waiting families. We really liked them, and the bonus part is we get to keep our current social worker.

---

Jack finding solace up high away from James

The kitties are doing great. James is the ultimate little brother to Jack, annoying him until he can get someplace high enough so James can't bother him.

James playing with Jack's tail

Aww, they really do like each other

James at 7 months old

Domestic, Illuminate, Commute, and Challenge

This continues the March Photo Challenge. I was having trouble with the prompts 3 and 4, which delayed in posting yesterday.  I took some pictures, but they are not really all that creative.

3) Domestic

I hate washing dishes. I've always hated washing dishes. Even now that I have a dishwasher, I hate it. But once I wash my dishes, load and run the dishwasher, there is a sense of accomplishment when I look at my kitchen sink , and it's empty. Sure I have dishes in still in the dry rack, but they are clean.

I've had to embrace my domesticity now that I'm not working. I often tell Michael that I'm not a very good housewife, because I dislike housework. I'm not a slob, so before my IRL friends perform an intervention to get me to clean my house, I'll reassure all of you - my house is clean. It just takes me a while to get motivated to clean it since discovering the Wii Harry Potter lego game.

4) Illuminate

I have nightlights all thoughout my house: one in the kitchen, one in the guest bathroom, our bathroom and two in the bedroom James is in at night. Its hard to take a picture of that, so I took one of my Fragrance warmer on the dining room table.

Growing up, my mom had nightlights everywhere too, in the kitchen, her bathroom, my bathroom, and the hallway. There was always the added security in knowing a nightlight was present, so I wasn't bathed in total darkness.

I hate being in the dark.

5) Commute (old)

This is the way to my old job. Since it was about 1/2 a mile from my home, I would walk to work.  I liked walking to work, it was convenient and the bonus...a Star.bucks was on my way, so I could get my drink before my 7am shift.

5) Commute (new)

This is my new commute, from my bedroom to my kitchen (yes, that is Jack on top of the fridge). Its not a bad commute. I like not working. I've had less anxiety attacks since being laid off last May.

6)  I Challenge thee to get along

Since getting a new kitten last December it has been a bit interesting seeing the boys interact. Some days are better than others, but almost everything starts with a fight. James usually starts the fight, Jack always finishes it. Its hard to know if Jack actually likes James. Overall, I think Jack just tolerates him, and when he gets out of hand gladly puts him in his place.

6) I challenge thee not to eat the entire box.

Its Girl Scout Cookie time and I just got my cookies from my friend yesterday. I love sweets, cookies, cakes, donuts - if its sweet and has sugar in it, I'll eat it. I do have the gift of protion control and eating in moderation, but it's harder now that I'm home all day and even more when its Girl Scout Cookie season.

I ate 7 of these cookies in one sitting yesterday (I was seriously considering eating the whole box, they were that good.) So I did what any rational person obsessed with cookies would do. I divided up the remaining cookies (had to eat two, because the numbers were uneven), put them in snack bags, then put the cookie filled snack bags back in the box and hid the box in my fridge.  

March Photo Challenge

I've decided to participate in the March Photo Challenge sponsered by Belle from Scrambled Eggs. It seemed like a fun thing to do and I'm hoping it will challenge me since I really don't like taking pictures.

It started at the beginning of March so I have about 11 pics to take (wow, I really didn't think this through).

I'm a little late, but I think I will show two pics a day until I'm caught up.

I'll post the first two.





1) Self Portrait



Yes, its upside down, which kind of reflects how I feel my life has been the last 8 years living with IF. I'm sure one of these days things will eventually right themselves, but for now life is a bit topsy-turvy. 

I've noticed that I get "the weepies" about once a month at the beginning of each month. I'm not sure if it still has to do with grief from the failed adoption, or if its just the frustration from the stagnantion of our current adoption situation, or both. There really isn't anything I can do about it, except allow myself to feel those emotions and end up with a crying hangover.

On the upside, I kind of like how skinny my face looks in this picture.

2) feet

Now this is just an excuse to post a picture of James. As you can see he has got so much bigger since January, and he is the ultimate little brother to Jack. He starts fights and then cries if Jack gets "too rough" (which is pretty hilarious since he started the fight in the first place). He is the total opposite of Jack in personality. He is extremely vocal, lets you hold him, and is very playful (though I'm sure Jack was when he was 6 months old).

:(  My foot looks chubby. Maybe a pedi will make it look thinner?

I Don't Do Anything

Its true, I don't really do anything. Since being laid off in May, I haven't really made an effort to look for another job, and technically we are not in a position where I have to seriously start looking for work. I'm very blessed, because I don't need the added anxiety that certain jobs (of the Customer Service variety) can bring.

I'm not complaining. I like the freedom that I have right now. I try to do the best with the time that I have at home, with cleaning or writing (or sitting in front of the TV trying to unlock as many characters as I can from my Harry Potter Lego game).

The only time I get self conscious about my employment status or lack thereof, is when I'm meeting new people, or when I'm suddenly thrust on stage with my husband at a graduation dinner thingy at his school with twelve other couples all of whom are doing something way more significant than taking care of two cats and playing Harry Potter Lego. That is when I start to over analyze my current stay at home housewife status.

I know things would be different if we had kids, because I'd be a stay at home mom taking care of kids as opposed to cats (because really, cats can take care of themselves), and people would hardly give me a hard time about it. (And even if they did, I wouldn't care because they're my kids and also being someone who was practically raised in childcare from the tender age of 18months old - I'd want my kids at home). So again the added attention to me in regards to "what I do" (or don't do) is a bit unnerving and at times can be embarrassing.

I didn't speak at this panel, answer questions or even introduce myself. I just sat next to Michael looking pretty (at least I can do that well :) )

Personally, I think its because of the added expectation that I put on myself that I should be doing something, when really I'd rather stay at home.

And I know I can change this if I wanted to, but its only about 10% of the time that I feel this sense of inadequacy (which is really only about twice a year).

I guess to solve a bit of this problem would be to start on the book I set out to write last June. It would give me something to talk about when I'm asked "What do you do?" or "Oh, you're a writer. What do you write about?"

So to answer the question that was asked of me as part of a panel last Friday that I chickened out of,

"What do you do?"

To be honest, I don't do much of anything. I read, I blog, I play with my cats.

"What do you love to do?"

I love being with my husband and supporting him at events such as these. I enjoy hanging out with my friends and talking and having coffee with college students whenever I can.

Doing the Math

I hate math. I've always hated math, which is why my degree is in Creative Writing. When I was in college and getting ready to transfer to University I needed one math class to tranfer. I picked the lowest math class I could find that would still give me the proper units to transfer, that class - College Algebra. It really wasn't all that complicated, but for me it was torture. I ended up having to take the class twice, but with the right professor and the use of the best invention ever - the graphing calculator, I passed and was able to transfer to finish my education.

Ask me if I've had to use anything from that math class in my daily life? I'll tell you no, but I think I've had to use some of it - like when I had to half a dose of Brav.elle back when Michael and I were doing treatment (so embarrassing, the nurse had to explain it twice and even draw a picture for me to understand - its been 2 1/2 years and I still can't remember what she said).

What I especially hate is when my brain does math of its own free will. Its slightly disconcerting, but it happens all the time - remembering important dates, less important dates, happy events, and also tragic events.

With happy events and important dates its fun to add to the years of your wedding anniversay, or the day you met your husband. Its fun to reflect on those times and share with each other where the years have taken you.

With tragic events its different. Who wants to calculate the years, months, weeks of something bad that happen? No one, but our brain does it anyway.

On Mondays mornings I spend a few hours with my friend L. On most days I'm with her when she takes her youngest to Tiny Tots, and on some of those days we will see our friend D, who's youngest is also in Tiny Tots.

My brain started doing math again without me prompting it to, reminding me that had our pregnancy in February 2008 not been an ectopic, I too would be joining my friends in taking our child to Tiny Tots. This wasn't a big surprise. I've always known that our first child would be close to the same age as J (L's youngest), but its usually just a passing thought. It wasn't until I allowed myself to really recognized the loss of our child for what it was, meant the loss of other things, little things, like playdates, child birthday parties, friendships.

Well after this my brain wouldn't stop doing the math, it kept calculating and tallying numbers of loss dates and sad anniversaries I've had cataloged in my brain since we started this journey. I'd like to forget them, but I can't forget. Its simple math - addition and subtraction, a basic skill we are taught in elementary school that stays with us forever, and I hate it.

I don't focus too much on these dates in my day-to-day life, but sometimes it can't be helped. Especially when I'm in the middle of a trigger month (as my therapist calls it).

February is a trigger month for me. I hate February. I've hated February for the last 4 years, since the ectopic happened, so its probably fit to reason that my brain will focus on the math of everything we've been through.

So for now I'll count down the days till March, and hope they go by fast.

Lost

No not the TV show (though I probably shouldn't admit that I have only ever watched the first 8 episodes and the series finale), I'm talking about where I'm at right now.

I'm so lost and more than ever I'm struggling with where I fit in the ALI community. Michael and I aren't doing treatment anymore. We are not actively trying (though we are not preventing, but our chances of conceiving on our own are slim). And while we are a family of 2, we are not "officially" a family of 2 yet. Though we are in the waiting stages of DIA, it doesn't feel like we are doing anything.

I don't really know what direction God wants us to take as far as building our family. I know I can ask, but I think part of me is afraid to hear the answer. Because what if the answer is no children. What if the direction is remaining a family of 2.

And I'll admit, part of me is scared that that is where we are headed. ('Scared' might be the wrong word, but I can't think of the right one because I've been crying for the last 2 1/2 hours.) I know that if that was the plan for us, we would be okay. We would be sad, and might have to go back to grief counseling, but we would be okay. And really I don't want to be scared.

We haven't come to making that decision yet, but I know its there. Waiting to be discussed and thought about. Again, I know it wouldn't be a bad thing, because at least it would be an answer and we would know that we had done everything possible to build our family.

I did something stupid today. Something I knew I shouldn't have done. Something I knew that if I did do it, I would be in a horrible state...I looked a dear friend's baby registry. Now I can't stop crying. I just keep thinking about all the things we would have had, and all the experiences we would have been enjoying (and some maybe not so much) had the adoption gone through.

She's 4 months old today, and she's not with me. And instead of caring for her, I'm caring for a 5 mo old kitten with ringworm (not that I'm complaining, he's a sweet little guy, I'm just laying out the perspective).

*headdesk*

I'm just so tired of the waiting and uncertainty that comes with this whole sucky IF journey. I am forever exhausted of fighting to become a mom, but as hard as this fight is - I can't stop until I'm told to stop, and right now I don't feel God telling us to stop. And right now I'm afraid to ask when we should stop.

*double headdesk*

I'll get this figured out eventually, but today my head is pounding.

Meet James the kitten

Yes, we got a new kitten from our local shelter. I spotted his picture online from the shelter's website back in November. Its the most unappealing picture of a kitten in the whole universe, but I wanted him. (And the fact that he was all gray like Jack was a bonus).

James' kitty mug shot

We decided to just browse at the shelter, just to see if he was still there. I wasn't sure if we would be bringing home a kitten, but I was kind of hoping we would.

Upon arrival I was so excited to see all the kittens. Some were very energetic meowing upon eye contact, bouncing around and pawing the glass. All the kittens were selling themselves, except for one solid gray kitten. He lay curled up in a ball snoozing with another kitten oblivious to anyone outside the glass.

I told the shelter worker which kitten I wanted to see and the instant James' kennel was open he woke up and bolted out of reach. Eventually the worker got him and handed him to me in the enclosed area they save for bonding.

The minute James was handed to me, he cling to me and purred, and I knew right then that he was ours.

We filled out the appropriate paperwork and paid the necessary adoption fees. On our way home we bought some kitten food, a small litter box, some kitten toys and a small cat bed.

Once we got home I called our vet and got an appointment for him the next day. We probably should not have had Jack meet him until after the vet appointment, but Jack was not to be stopped and followed us into the second bedroom to see what was in the cardboard carrier.

We got James settled into the second bedroom and he decided to camp out under a small table. I felt so bad that he was so scared of us, but I let him be.

Day 2: Still keeping his distance, but engaging in playtime.

Jack hissed at him the first time he saw James. James on the other hand couldn't stop purring the moment he noticed Jack. They touched noses, briefly, then Jack hissed and bolted from the room.

The next day at the vet's James got the all clear FIV and Fel/Leuk negative, however there was a noticable sore on this head that they weren't sure about. They took a culture and told us that it could possibly be ringworm (culture takes a week). We were advised to keep him separated from Jack, so as not to possibly spread the unsuspecting ringworm to him.

By Day 4, James had started to come out of hiding and surprised me when he came to me and flopped by my crossed legs begging to be petted. And did I mention, whenever he has contact with us he purrs non-stop and kneads.

Happy to lay in my lap, however his eyes look sad.

Toward the end of the first week with James, I noticed that the head sore wasn't getting any better and also similar lesions were now on his paws. I called the vet and they seemed positive that it was ringworm, so I made an appointment for James the next day. They also discovered that in addition to ringworm he had a really bad case of tummy parasites (no wonder his eyes look sad).

We were given a perscription of oral meds for the tummy parasites, shampoo and topical lotion for the ringworm. Yes, I typed that right - shampoo. We were going to have to bathe a kitten.

I was freaking out at first at the thought of having to give a kitten a bath. But really I was freaking out over the concept of having to give Jack a bath *shudder*

James surprised us. He struggled and meowed at first, but really, he was extremely patient and stayed still, most of time, as we tried to lather him up as calmly, yet as quickly, as possible. He did good when we wrapped him in a towel and held him while the shampoo set. He didn't like being rinsed off, but was happy once we wrapped him back up in a towel.

We will see how he copes once we have to do this again on Friday.

He seems to be doing better now that we have been giving him his oral meds for the tummy parasites. He doesn't struggle so much, but he doesn't like it. He mostly struggles with having to have the lotion put on the lesions. But his eyes don't look as sad. We still have to keep him away from Jack, but hopefully they will get to interact soon.

We are discovering that he is a happy little guy, and most likely will end up being a lap kitty.