2011 in Review

I've been struggling with a way to summarize 2011, especially since I was a little lax on the blogging this year. Mom got new hips, then broke one, then got it fixed again. Dad got cancer. M. started a journey, only to decide after a few months it really wasn't for him. I applied for a handful of new jobs, got none, but found a little bit of peace in the one I have. We got on a plane and took a huge trip. I came home and had a bit of an existential freak out (every year needs at least one, right?) We got serious about gestational surrogacy - first working with one agency, now starting with another one. Still no house, still no baby. But I still managed to wear myself out most of the time.

This week, I've slept. A lot. And lounged. And watched movies with M. Well more like a few movies and then a lot of documentaries, animal planet, reality TV and Beavis and Butthead.

It's been awesome.

Sure, I got a few things done in between all of that. But not nearly as much as my ambitious little mind had planned. Oh well, tomorrow's another year.

Which brings me to the point of this post. I borrowed this from Loribeth. You can see her answers here. You can check mine out below. And feel free to play along. Who doesn't like a meme?

**

1. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Hmm, let's see. Last year I said my plan was:

• to see myself published
• to open our home to more people more often
• to practice more gratitude and patience with my parents and show less anger
• to run at least 3 half-marathons

Well, one out of 4 isn't bad, right? I haven't been published beyond the usual venues - press releases and newsletters from work - but I have been making more of an effort to get my employer in the news. So, lots on the work front, but that's not really what I meant.

I don't think we had more visitors in 2011 than before.

Half-marathons = 0.

But, I've been working hard with my parents. And believe me it has NOT been easy with one of them.

As for next year, I'm not really trusting my 1-3 record, so I'm not sure if putting more to paper (or screen) will help. Perhaps I'll just work a little harder on these 4.

If we're talking about outcomes, I would love to leave 2012 with a baby, a house and a puppy. BHD. That's our mantra. That's the trinity. Right there.

2. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

Went to Australia. Spent 14 hours on a plane. Snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef. Put a bid on a house.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

M's sister and my cousin welcomed baby girls into the world. Both this March.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Not that I know IRL, but blog friends suffered some awful losses this year.

5. What countries did you visit?

Australia. We had a layover in New Zealand. Does that count?

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

See #1.

7. What date(s) from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

Is it bad if I say none?

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Not disowning my father. Seriously.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Not showing my mom the compassion she needed when she needed it most.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Phew. No.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

Plane tickets to Australia.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

We were blessed with so much kindness and generosity in Australia, I'm not really sure what we did to deserve it. We knew M's cousin's old roommate had a tent for us to borrow. We didn't know he would also share his cooler, his camping stove and two more containers of items that made this the most luxurious camping we've ever done, oh yes, AND A CAR.

If that wasn't enough, he pointed us towards all of his favorite camping haunts, and his mom's house in beautiful Hervey Bay, where we spent more than a couple nights drinking tea and listening to this bad ass woman from Tasmania who still swims in the ocean on nice days.

Every day brought new conversations, new people to know.

Australia, I heart you. I am sorry for saying a bad thing about you, ever.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Far right politicians whose tea party antics costs us several hundred dollars while we watched the debt ceiling debates go on and on and the American dollar drop lower and lower and lower. If fucking with money isn't enough, those same politicians also seem keen on sticking their fingers up my vagina and keeping them there to make sure I don't get any funny ideas and you know, think for myself.

14. Where did most of your money go?

See #11

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

See #11

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?

For better or worse, probably this one.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: (a) happier or sadder? (b) thinner or fatter? (c) richer or poorer?

I seem to be holding steady on all of the above.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Running. Cooking at home. Creating quality time with friends. Clearly separating work and free time.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Eating french fries and pizza. Procrastinating.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

Like we usually do. Eve with my family. Day with M's.

21. Did you fall in love in 2011?

I am completely smitten with my cousin's baby girl and I never would have called that.
PS - she adores me too.

22. What was your favorite TV program?

We seem to be on a bit of a Top Chef bent. But the new Beavis and Butthead has me loving them all over again. Thanks to Netflix, we've exhausted every episode of every season of Black Adder and The IT Crowd (which I highly recommend to anyone who has ever been responsible for even a remote part of your work's IT. "have you tried turning it on?")

23. Do you hate anyone now that you did not hate this time last year?

As Loribeth aptly put it, hate is a strong word. There are actions and words and behaviors that have turned my stomach, but I've been trying to see beyond them. I'm not always successful, but I've been trying damn hard to keep my temper in check. So no, no one I hate. Disappointed in, yes. Hate, no. Hate takes a lot of energy and effort that could be put to such better uses.

24. What was the best book you read?

The Thorn Birds: A Novel Don't laugh. I didn't read much this year.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?

VILIFY. This woman. My god. She rocks my world.

26. What did you want and get?

These bad boys.

27. What did you want and not get?

A baby. A house. A puppy.

28. What was your favourite film of this year?

I honestly cannot think of a film that blew me away this year.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I seriously cannot remember. I am sifting through both my blog and my calendar for clues, which tells me it wasn't terribly memorable. Boo. I turned 37.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Must I state the obvious?

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

I'm trying to find that balance between professional and edgy. Like a suit with an unexpected shirt underneath or funky necklace peeking out. Or trousers and a basic sweater with some sexy shoes hanging out below.

32. What kept you sane?

M.
Running, which is why I should do more of it.
Blogging, which is why I should do more of it.
You.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Last November's concert rekindled my crush on Greg Dulli, even if he is a little chubbier these days. As for pure, hot fancy - Randy Orton is the only fellow I can envision right now. And that makes me a little embarrassed. So just keep that one to yourselves.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?

Stirs. Present tense. Any threat to my reproductive rights. Any attack on the people with disabilities that I represent.

35. Who did you miss?

Isa. Jovi. My grandfather (still). My grandmother has been appearing in my dreams all week and I'm just a little unnerved by that.

36. Who was the best new person you met?

Too many to mention. See #12.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.

That you cannot ask apples of an orange tree. I didn't make that up. My acupuncturist gets credit for that one.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

I'm that girl who has a lyric to sing for everything that's going through my mind or happening in front of me. So its hard for me to find one line to sum up this year. I'm going to chew on this one for a while. Let me get back to you.

**

And just like that, there's only an hour and a half left in this year. I'm setting the computer aside and taking my place next to M on the couch. I think there's some bread pudding and wine calling my name.

Later Gators! Happy New Year!

Glad I Asked!

So it seems that I fall smack in the middle between the 0 and 100.

We (read: I) send out about 40 holiday cards, catered to the recipient and their preferred celebrations. For the most part, we do straight up cards but try to keep them a little funky. Back in the day, when we were conscientious, we would get the UNICEF cards from P*er 1 (that's how I justified the totally unnecessary use of so much paper) but whatever. Those shits are expensive. This year, I saw cards I liked early in the season so I grabbed them. Charity be damned.

Most are initial, lick and send. Some folks get a longer note, especially if we've received one from them or have something to say. Love getting photo cards - they don't seem to sting as much as they have in the past - but not sure if that will ever be our route.

In years past I would force M to at least scribble a line before mailing. But I've gotten pretty good at forgery.

I don't only send to folks who've sent us cards but I do make sure all cards are reciprocated. The list is trimmed periodically for various reasons.

I just can't get into eCards - mostly because I'm always nervous that ones I receive will carry a nasty little worm or virus along with them and destroy my computer and then creep into my work server then I'll get fired and then there will be no cash for next christmas....yeah, I just can't get into eCards.

We hang the cards as we receive them, and I've kept all of the cards that we've gotten since we've moved into our current home. Why, I don't know. It doesn't seem right to toss photos in the trash, and part of me holds on to this dream of recycling some of the best into cool ornaments (because M's uncle's wife does and then uses those as holiday cards and they look darn cool. I always think, oh hey, I could do that. Then again, she has her own high end art/craft store in the midwest. Maybe I'm not in that league....)

So, thank you! Thanks for humoring me and sharing a piece of your holidays with us. How was it?

Ours was, hmm, I don't know. Let me get back to you. Xmas eve with my fam (minus mom and dad. Don't ask. Maybe I'll get into it later) was pretty nice. Actually, really nice. Xmas day with M's fam, started off great, got very shaky, very quickly, and then leveled out. Phew.

Note to self: always, always ALWAYS ask Santa to put a new Manchester City Jersey in M's stocking. No matter what. Because that is the gift that will cure all ails, well, most anyway.

So now, today is boxing day. A day for jammies and tea and playing with gifts that fit (new video game for M, ipad over here (holla!!!!!), trying on and making piles of ones to return (later), making some last minute purchases to make up for the fact that the gifts you gave pale in comparison to the ones you received (see: ipad) and possibly a walk.

I'm sure I could fit a run in there somewhere. But, well, you know, I'm kind of digging sloth for another day or two. 'Tis the season for rest and restoration, correct?

Because I'm Nosy....

Hey, do you do holiday cards?

Xmas? Chanukah, Festivus?
Photo cards? Straight up hallmark? Homemade?
Do you write nice long notes or just initial, lick and send?

Do you make your partner sign or do you forge his/her signature to save time (guilty. here.)

Do you only send to folks who've sent you a card?
Do you trim your list?

eCards or paper?

What do you do with holiday cards once you get them? Hang 'em up? Go, oh, isn't that nice? Then pitch 'em? Re-use, recycle them?

I'll check back in a bit and share our answers. In the meantime, behold the golden pierog! [thx to Alexandra for the edit]

Thanks

Long weekend, I love you. Let me just get that right out there.

I took a two-day work week this week in honor of the best.holiday.ever. I am thankful for two-day work weeks.

Now, I get it. I know that the origins of Thanksgiving are dubious and the pilgrim/"indian" component of it is cringe-worthy. I've never liked turkey and you know M doesn't "eat the bird because he loves birds." I know that the twitterverse is pretty much split down the middle with FML and pass me the wine I hate my family posts, and I'm so thankful and everything is beautiful in it's own way tweets.

While I am never one for shooting rainbows out of my ass, I have to confess, I'm falling into the Ray Stevens camp this year. Thanksgiving is so distinctly North American. It is the only holiday that's ever made me homesick when I've been far away. Being vegetarian has eliminated any need to feign delight while stuffing a dry, dead bird down my gullet and wow, there was no shortage of good stuff at the table yesterday.

You have to appreciate a holiday where gifts are not required, the focus is on food, it's totally ok to get tipsy in front of your parents/in-laws/family units, naps are not only allowed but encouraged, and the overarching theme is "hey you spoiled yankees, can you stop yer bitching about your first world problems for just a minute, look around you, and be grateful. If only for one day. Be grateful."

And so I shall. I will savor the shepherd's pie I made from leftover mashed potatoes and kale, sip some lovely porter, watch M play his new video game (purchased for the long weekend) and be grateful. For my home, for my husband, for my health, for my homies (that means you), for our daughters. Too often I forget - their short time with us was a gift. A Gift.

Hibernating

Because that's what winter's for, right?

I'm a little envious of you who are knee-deep in snow right now. Despite all the hoo-haa, we in my little burg got a whole lot of nothing. Just cold. And wind. What fun is that without snow?

We've been laying low. not as low as Thanksgiving where we dodged any and all stressy family scenarios claiming mental wellness needs, but pretty low nonetheless. Xmas was good - as good as it could get. Which means, despite my days of anxiety leading up to it, it wasn't that bad at all.

it could be better
but it's good enough

That's a fortune cookie fortune that I received ages ago. I can't remember where or when. I'm not even sure if it was pre or post I and J. But something about it struck me. It's stuck on the bulletin board in my home office. I look at it a lot, and depending on the day, I love it. I hate it. Sometimes both. Today it just feels like the truth.

**

Xmas Eve was with my side of the family: mom, dad, aunt, (very pregnant) cousin, her new husband, brother, brother's girlfriend, yippy dog and me and dutiful M. I feared I wouldn't be able to manage the unwrapping of what I was sure to be mountains of adorable baby girl things. If those things were in the house, they were graciously kept under the tree to be unwrapped in the am. (thank you)

Most of the evening was actually spent with me and M explaining that yes, there are many, many things that vegans can eat, just not a single thing on the butter-drenched table. (don't cry for us - M and I expected as much and feasted on nice wine, gourmet gnocchi and some homemade sauce before we got there.) So, with a fresh bottle of red in hand, we got through dinner just fine.

M. was annoyed at presents from my parents. My brother and I were unsympathetic since, well, this is our lives. To expect that what you unwrap has anything remotely to do with you or that there was any thought put into whether or not you might like/use/know what it is - those are luxuries for other families, not ours. So, I took over unwrapping duties and smiled widely at our snuggie blanket and flannel pj bottom M would never ever EVER be caught dead in, said thank you, moved on. And to be frank, we received far more than I ever expected. My brother and I concur, it was one of the better gift-getting years. M doesn't know what he's talking about.

I was pleasantly surprised by my dad's humor, aggravated by mom's pained silence. She seems to be pissed at all of us (meaning, me, bro, M and dad) but none of us can figure out why. Can't be bothered to waste my font on this right now.

Xmas day was spent at our place. M's parents showed up with the poodles and surprise delights from a new vegan-friendly restaurant down the road. I made pierogi, tried some new recipes (roasted yellow split pea and rosemary dip? stuffed cherry peppers with pine nuts and sun-dried tomatoes? damn. good.) and we ate, and ate and ate all day.

Gift giving. Gift receiving: I am not sure which stresses M out the most. They could be equal. But the moment of unwrapping - that moment so many of us enjoy - he absolutely dreads. And doesn't do a terribly good job of faking it. But he tries. He worries if people will like what he's got them. He stresses over how much someone has spent on him, especially if its something he isn't sure he will use....as you can see, its all pretty stressful. So, the day was good, but I was fairly certain he would unravel at some point.

And....he did. right after he tripped and took a nasty fall taking and armful of presents and puppies out to his parents' car. It just takes an event, one bruise, one loose thread to set the Sad in motion.

But it wasn't so bad. We stopped. We talked. We admitted, presents be damned, who wants any of it when what you want isn't here? Surrounded by so much excess, the absence, man, it hurt. It hurts.

So, we did a shot, grabbed a blanket, went to the couch and hugged. He found a new game on the PS3 to numb his mind. I busied myself with new cookbooks. But mostly, we just sat quietly in each others' presence, because we didn't want to be apart.

And really, that's not so bad.

Yesterday was the final round of our Xmas weekend. Closing off festivities with my brother, his girlfriend and their cast of characters at his house. Gifts ranged from ridiculous (shake weights!) to ridiculous-er (blow-up doll!) and dear sweet baby Jesus please do not let me tagged in any of those photos in FB. I am merely an observer. I swear.

So, we made it. Xmas 2010. Over. In the books. Done! Now to the real goodness, a few days of sleeping in, working from home when the mood strikes, catching up on emails and other pieces of life that are hard to fit into normal days, like um, blogging.

I hope you all had a peaceful holiday, can enjoy some days off and are looking forward to 2011. I so am.

And See?

now I am fine.

See, I told you. I guess I am lucky in that I cannot sustain the Sad for longer than 24 or so hours. I just get sick of myself.

Thanks to A. for sharing an evening run. (did you see the autumn sky last night?) Thanks to M. for putting up with my slouchy, self-pitying self and pushing me out the door to run. And for reminding me that there are many, many people around us who love us and who get us and who will be here for us this season - they just aren't members of my immediate family (brother excluded. He tries hard.) And as I mentioned in the comments of the last post, this doesn't make them bad people. And it doesn't make me love them less. What it does mean is that I need to reconfigure my expectations, and not take for granted the overlapping circles of support that M and I both have around us.

And if any of you are in the area, you are more than welcome to stop by tomorrow afternoon to try out some chickpea gravy. I think its gonna rock.

Days and Days

....that I am behind in the whole MEME thing. I keep envisioning a lightning round where I just stuff you full of everything and anything you wanted to know about me in one fell swoop. Maybe that will happen.

Right now I am holding steady. Steady through the days.

Wondering who that delusional idiot was the other evening that said to her husband, you know, I think I'm going to be OK this holiday season. I think I may even be looking forward to it.

And I am - some pieces. Like our first vegan Thanksgiving feast. (hint: if you ever want to minimize your numbers for dinner, say the word "vegan") And the impromptu trip up north that we just might make to see friends and family. Getting a live tree. Seeing lights. Plotting trips down south to avoid Xmas day....All of that - that sounds nice.

The anxiety that crept up on me last night and hasn't left....the anger rising inside of me when people asking things of me, wanting me to function like I did yesterday or the day before when now my mind is squarely stuck on other moments (don't they know? can't they see? isn't it obvious that the eve of my daughters' deaths is soon upon us?)....the simple injustice of all of the "this time last year"s....Those things = Not So Nice.

And the answer to all of the previous questions is, of course, no. They don't know. They can't see. It isn't obvious. Why would it be? And even if it were, newsflash, we all have an ache to bear. This is something I keep trying to remind myself.

We all have an ache to bear.

I am not the only one with a gaping hole in my heart and a truth that makes me gasp if I allow myself to think about it. I am not the only person who walks into the holidays feeling anything but thankful. I am not the only one who is trying to get through.

And, as M put it so eloquently: even if you were, you will die holding your breath waiting for people to think about anything other than themselves.

Well, yeah. In some cases, yes. (in some cases, no. We'll get to that in a minute)

I guess I was just empowered, strengthened, encouraged by this great letter that My Infertility Woes wrote to her family and shared on her blog yesterday. I thought, oh my gosh, this is so gentle and so true and states so clearly what she and her husband could use to get them through the season. Wow. Wow.

And I thought, hmmm.....I wonder what would happen if I asked for some help, some understanding? Because as the sage M also pointed out last night when I was freaking out about an exam I will soon take, it is rarely evident when I need an extra hand. He was clueless that I was at panic point, and readily lent a hand (literally, to hold cue cards and quiz me) when he realized I needed help. He simply had no idea.

Along that line of logic and spurred on by the responses M.I.W. received from her letter, I tried the asking thing out this morning with a little text:

"Dear family: asking for your patience over the winter holidays. This is a hard, hard time of year for us. Thanks."

I thought that handful of words might minimize the fuss when M and I stop by to say hi but don't sit down or linger at the other Thanksgiving feast. Would alleviate the need to feign happiness and delight upon seeing my pregnant cousin's belly move. Would grant us at least a little repreive from faking our way through the holidays. Might help explain the unpredictability of us - honest to pete, 24 hours ago I was FINE. This morning, I had to brace myself and de-tear before a morning meeting around people that I do NOT want to appear teary around. Right now, a break in the clouds is appearing. I bet by evening I will be fully present again.

Still waiting for the full results from the morning text to come in. One has been disappointing but predictable. The other kind. A 50/50 split isn't terrible. But in the mood I am in right now at this moment, these words bring me up to a steady seethe:

I understand
beautiful lives and memories
eternity
a place far better and safer than this world
continue fighting
don't give up

I find comfort in none of this. None of these concepts work for me. And the fact that they were tossed out, one after the other, like sprinkling holy water, confirmed for me where I do NOT want to be for more than 5 minutes this Thursday.

So then what, exactly, was I anticipating? What did I WANT from that family missive?

I think I would like quiet. And an understanding for when we are quiet. I would like some room to breathe and grieve if those feelings come up on us as they seem to be. I would like the ability to be angry without someone rushing to comfort. I would like to be alone with my thoughts and not have someone else define them for me. I would like the ability to switch gears and not have to explain it. I would like a quiet acceptance of the idea that I can be sad in the morning and happy at night. And vice versa.

But, as I look at this wish list, I am thinking this is not mutually exclusive to the loss or infertility communities. This is what most of us want from our families, isn't it? And not just over the holidays.

Tell me, peeps: in a perfect world, how would YOUR family support you over the holiday season? What are the things you want/don't want?

Let's build our wish list together.

First I was fine

but now, not so much.

I don't know how the day shifted. Right from under me. And actually, as I type this, it has shifted back. Right back to fine.

Last night I drank mulled wine. Decorated the tree. Lingered a long time on the ornaments with some of the only images of the girls that we have.

Do I put them up? How does this make me feel? Do I want to be looking at these every day? I asked M. Do these things make you happy or sad? He said keep them up. He said both.

Yes. Both.

I did the tree. Because when else can you bring an 8 foot piece of the forest into your home and have it be ok? We agreed it is one of the things about the holidays we like a lot.

Tree is up. Lit. Pretty. Now the stockings. No sorry. Can't do it. The image of two stockings - even if they are ostensibly for M and me - hanging in expectation on the mantle is simply too much. No. This I can't do. Those went back in the box.

Lights yes. Stockings no. Tree yes. Cards maybe. Presents - fuck. Presents.

Maybe this is what started it. Anxiety around presents. What to get. Who gets its. Wait. We are close to broke. Now what? Thoughts return to perhaps just skipping Xmas altogether.

No. No. Can't do that. I mean, you can, but Angie said it so well:

"It is like falling off a bicycle, we cannot skip the holiday this year, or we will every year."

I do believe she's right.

But somewhere amidst the wine and the lights and the balls and the baubles I remembered, "this time last year I was full-on pregnant. Blissful. Happy. Beyond happy." By this time a week from now, all of that had changed.

And within that quick realization, that split second, the lights seemed accusatory, the baubles gaudy, the stockings already shoved back in the crate just plain cruel.

I have tried with all my might to avoid the "if only's" and the "if they were's..." and even the "this time last year's...." but they are flooding my brain today and won't go away. Not even some basic yoga postures soothe. They just bring tears.

And then Michael picks me up off the ground, demands a hug, we go back to the kitchen and get coffee and I am back to being fine. Just like that. The phone rings an email comes in, a workman knocks at the door and the haze reshuffles and moves away for a bit. Until the next time.

I think, as so many of you have already warned, I am just going to have to take these waves as they come. Let them happen. Despite all of my logic and rationalization, this week DOES feel different than the rest of the year. It IS different. It just is.

M has off today. I am working from home - not by choice - every once in a while our office tries to see if we can function away from the physical building and if anyone will notice. Its our "emergency testing" plan. Yesterday this was awesome. I needed the peace. Today I'm am in desperate need for distraction. So I am getting dressed and running some errands with my husband. I am walking away from the phone and the computer for a while and hoping no one notices. But if they do, well it just doesn't matter that much.

To the Beach, Bo-oy!

So, in a few hours I will saunter down to the train station and make my way to the next crossroads in this adventure - does she or does she not have a busted endometrium?

Feeling much calmer about it all since my post last week. Thanks to conversations with many of you and the belief that my RE really does have some more tricks up her sleeve, and a vested interest in our success. Even if today blows, it does not have to be the end of the road. That is what I am telling myself. Not fooling myself, but not freaking myself out yet either. Because what is the point of that?

That isn't to say that I didn't go grab a last minute acupuncture session last night. Damn! Has it been that long? Did I get soft? After the 3rd or 4th jab I finally said something offhand to my acupuncturist about the stabs, which I was noticing a LOT more than usual. And she confessed that I was "bringing out the little old chinese lady in the redhead today" and she had decided to be a little more aggressive with the points and the needles. Jeez. Ok. Whatever works.

I can never tell where my mind is going to wander when I'm lying on the table. Some days I try to be really, really mindful and do deep breathing exercises or repeat some mantras. (I am really, truly sucky at meditations. The best I can do is visualizations. not the same thing, but an exercise nonetheless). Yesterday, I decided to just chill. Just Be. And I was rewarded with just an amazing technicolor experience - all kinds of mental images of me with a big belly floating through my brain. Big posing for belly shots. Big waddling down the boardwalk. Big in a big mumu dress that M would hate. It was delicious.

My belly never got that big.

But it was in my mind yesterday evening. And rather than get all slumpy and sad about the what is in my head vs. what IS, I decided to just enjoy it. Just enjoy the show.

I wonder if the images were aided by the fact that I am feeling quite bloated, my belly distended. I can see that my face and my body are far rounder than usual and although I did have potato chips for lunch a few days last weekend, I don't think I ingested enough to justify the gain. It has to be the estrogen, right? My belly is tender and slightly achy. Similar to how I have felt in previous cycles. Again, seeing it as a good sign.

And my acupuncturist felt a kidney pulse in both of my wrists. Good, right?

All of this to say, this week has felt different than last week. We'll see what any of that is worth.

Once the appointment is over, I'm meeting M. (not sure where yet) after work and we are making our way down to the beach to see my parents and take some time off. Just a long weekend, but just the thought of it has had us sufficiently distracted. So, its already been worth it. We loaded up the car this morning with the kayaks, our coffee mugs, some clothes, extra pillows (because my mom's beds are horribly uncomfortable, y'all) and a bag heavy with books and CDs from the library. You would think we were going on a damn excursion. But no. Just a few hours down the road. For less than 72 hours.

I can't wait to stuff my bloated self into a bathing suit. I'm not even being sarcastic.

I already know what appetizers I am going to order from which restaurants and which arcade will see my quarters. I can feel the sand scratching my feet stuck in my sandals and I can smell the vinegar from the fries we will order once M. finally caves in and realizes he can't possibly make it through the weekend without them. Oh you know the ones.

I can hear the crappy band(s) we'll probably end up seeing and sense that they don't matter because what matters is that we are on a deck and I'm sleepy from too much sun (but trying to rally because I won't admit that I am getting older) and my skin is tight and my hair is wild and fun from the salt air and we'll probably have to tiptoe in when we get home because my parents will be sleeping so before we do we'll have a last beer on the porch and reminisce about the day and about the time that M. ran their golf cart into the neighbor's house (sorry, Aunt Bonnie) and know that even if things are shitty today, they will be ok.

The Creme de la Creme is Ready

So, you should go look at it.

And know that I will be posting an addendum to my own entry (oh how things have changed) very soon.

I had a much nicer than anticipated New Year's Eve that consisted of hair-stroking under the basement stairs, bear hugs by the stripper pole and many a heart to heart with burly men and buxom women. Maybe I'll even tell you about that. Short version: I love my brother, his girlfriend, and their friends and was absolutely shocked (although I shouldn't have been) by the love and affection (and grief) that they shared with me and M.

All amid the glow of a "Live Nudes" neon light in my brother's basement, setting of his first annual (of what will be many I am sure) NYE soiree.

I love my brother.

Where I get my Darlene on...

"You're like Darlene from Roseanne."

That's what my brother said to me when I disagreed with the general consensus that this Xmas eve was the "best ever." Best ever meaning no tears, no fighting, actual civility among parents and our small little circle of relations. We actually got along. Or so it appeared.

Really? Sorry to let you down, folks. Glad you had a blast, but if I never have to do that again, I would be grateful.

After dinner (where it was duly noted that neither M. nor I said grace) that we didn't eat and presents that were craptastic (wow. thanks, mom, for getting M. sweet rose wine he will never drink, my brother a mexican fiesta gift package he will never eat and me a necklace with 2 little girl charms that is so gaudy and so not like anything that I would ever dream of putting on my body that you have guaranteed its return. Nice to know that you have your finger on the pulse of people you allegedly know so well...), M. and I convinced my brother to pull out his Wii and hook it up.

Thank goddess for the g*d damned Wii. Hours and hours of playing this game and getting my parents off the couch and involved apparently counts as the Best Xmas Eve Ever.

M orchestrated the Wii set up, the crafting of the little Miis, the bowling tournament. And it was 100% selfish. Because we knew we would have to linger a bit longer and I honestly couldn't see how I was going to make it without crawling into a corner and going fetal. He could obviously see that too.

In true clueless form, my parents saw nothing, said nothing relevant and were focused solely on themselves: My father's comments directed at all the hours my mom spent in the kitchen and expecting us to lather her with praise, my mom waiting in silent martydom for the praise. A word about the girls? Not a one. A question? A Query about us? No way. Just an acknowledgment that we have arrived and that dinner was ready. Meanwhile, my aunt and cousin were quiet at their seats trying to see through the tension that was obvious to them but apparently no one else. My brother: hungry and just trying to be a good host. His girlfriend: as usual, fairly clueless but sweet. She is usually a welcome respite at these affairs.

Can I just say when I saw the necklace I wanted to punch through a wall? And then I wanted to punch my mom. Wanted to ask, what the f*ck were you thinking when you picked out this piece of shit and is this what the girls are to you? Some tacky charm? Some cheap ass trinket? Is this what you think of your daughter? Do you even know me? Have you ever known me?

I am sure that I am acting like a brat here, but you know what? I think if there were ever a moment when I could, that moment would be now.

It is easy for me to get myself absolutely riled at how awful my parents have been since this all went down. Every moment when they have had an opportunity to show compassion, some love, some empathy, they have managed to avoid it. Every chance that there has been for words, for no words, for acknowledgement, for...for f*ck's sake...something, they have managed to act in the exact opposite way that I would hope for. Every time I see them I feel as if this is something I have done to them. A punishment that they now must bear, a situation that I have created out of spite and because I never really wanted them to be grandparents. You see, it is all about them and I can't help but thinking that somehow an apology, an admission of guilt has been expected from me.

Now, hang on there, m. Are you serious? Is this just an extension of what we already talked about?

Look, all I know is how I feel and I feel like I want to scream every time the phone rings and I see it is their number. I crumple into "Darlene" at the prospect of spending an evening with them. I want to limit any and all interaction with them and this, of course, is obvious and is grounds for more guilt and martyrdom from them.

Ah Eastern European traditions. F*cking great, no?

And here is where I need to pause.

And I need to remind myself that as horrid as xmas eve was, that was how wonderful Xmas day was. I woke up with my husband. Hugged and held. Opened the few presents we bought for ourselves (none of them surprises.) Oh look! A package from vans! oh hey! Santa Matador records came! Oh golly! the elves from Keen shoes must have left this here (rip. rip. tear. tear. hurray!) we do this every year, and you know what, every year we crack ourselves up.

With new pressies on our bodies and bellies full of coffee we went to M's parents' house where we opened (truly fabulous and NOT craptastic presents) and sat around, and ate, and laughed, and talked about the girls and plans for the future and enjoyed each other's company. And simply loved each other. And it was wonderful. I fell asleep on a chair with a book on my chest and a belly full of food. I fell asleep content.

And for as awful as my parents have been, that is how amazingly wonderful relatives like my brother and my aunt have risen to the occassion. I have had shaky relations with both of these folks at various stages in the past and now, dammit, they are my homies. My strongest allies, my biggest supporters. And that is a gift.

And for as thoughtless as mom and dad have been, that is how thoughtful our friends, our good good friends have been. They have surrounded us with love and care, but not smothered. They have asked, but not harped. They have simply reminded us again and again and in so many ways that we are loved and that they are here, as they have been in the past, like they will be in the future.

And that is a gift.

At the end of the day, I am simply thankful that this holiday season (at least the worst of it) is over and that a new year is just a few days away.

From FN: The Real Meaing of Christmas

Once upon a time, I had this great gig blogging about fertility issues that actually gave me a little cash. To vent, to share, to talk about fertility in the media, on the news, in the blogosphere. those days are past and all the old links are dead. But every now and then, it feels nice to resurrect some old, yet relevant posts. You can find them here under the header "From FN:"

This was originally posted December 9, 2007. Happy Holidays, everyone:

No, I am not going to talk about material vs. spiritual, Santa Claus vs. little baby Jesus. Even though my mom still insists on buying a birthday cake and singing Happy Birthday to Jesus every year (a holdover from our childhood which she thinks we all embrace), we all know this holiest of holy days has actually been around long before Christianity took hold.

Here’s a great article on AlterNet that gives a history of December 25th from its pagan beginnings to it as a shared celebration with Christians and on to its current incarnation. Decorating homes with evergreens probably started with the Roman celebration of Saturnalia. Rob Boston reminds us that,

Evergreen trees had long been viewed as a symbol of fertility by Pagan peoples.
When winter came and most trees lost their leaves and appeared to die, the
evergreen was a reminder that life would endure and that long days, warmer
weather and a harvest would come again.

The Good News says thank German immigrants for bringing the concept of a Christmas tree to America:

Nineteenth-century German immigrants to the United States were among the first
to use a recognizable Christmas tree in this country, so it is often assumed
that the Christmas tree hails from the traditions of northern Europe. In fact,
it is more authentically a product of much older southern traditions. Ancient
Egyptians viewed the evergreen tree as a fertility symbol.

I wonder if this explains why we bought our tree early and if the past is any indication, will probably have it up well into the new year? I love the look of it, the smell, the fact that we keep unearthing ornaments from different places and times in our lives. I love having a huge piece of the forest taking over my living room. I love that that’s not seen as odd. Maybe I just love being reminded on the dreariest of winter days that life will endure and that long days, warmer weather and (hopefully) a harvest (of sorts) will come.

Feels like...Nothing.

Rain. Rain. Rainy. Rain.

Icy, cold, why-the-hell-aren't-you snow rain.

These days have been dragging. Now when was the last time you heard someone say their vacation days were going by too slowly? It's not even Xmas and I think M. and I are both ready for a regular routine. Some hard and fast work deadlines. Places to be. A reason to get out of bed. Days off are great. But not when neither of you can figure out what to do with yourselves.

"Wanna do something?"
"Sure. What?"
"Not sure. Any thoughts?"
"No. "

"Wanna go someplace?"
"Sure. Where?"
"Oh. I dunno. Got any ideas?"
"No. you?"
"Hmm. No."
"Me neither."

But then we come up with some. All of which are vetoed. Too far. Too expensive. Too boring. Too, too. Of course, the weather isn't helping. No point of discussing hikes or outdoor adventures. Not when pneumonia feels like the likely result. A gym visit is good for an hour. Tops. And then we're back to what we were doing before. Either on the couch or in the office. Reading a book or playing video games. Watching TV or checking the computer. And on any other day. Any. Other. Day. This would feel like bliss to me. A welcome respite. A delicious way to spend the day doing nothing with my sweetie.

But that's what this feels like today: Nothing.

We are feeling absolutely rudderless. Aimless. Days are filled with things to fill the day. Nothing more. What to do when you have completely reprogrammed yourself to exist solely for your children?

And your children aren't there.

I know that every day won't feel like this. I know the rain won't last forever. But this is what it feels like today.

And the rain seems like a cruel joke.

Hottie Mommies and Such

This holiday weekend will officially be remembered as the weekend of deep and indulgent sleep.

After a pretty intense work week bookended by trips to the clinic for stripe checks (7.2 on Monday; 7.8 on Friday. Not bad, but not great. We can talk about that later), each and every morning was spent under the covers, dozing until well past 9 am. Because I could.

Most mornings, I would wake and contemplate all the things I could be doing with the early part of my day before coming to the conclusion that lounging in bed was exactly what I wanted to be doing. S0 that's what I did.

When I wasn't sleeping, I was repotting, cleaning, browsing the ArtsFest that graces our riverfront every Memorial Day weekend and generally enjoying a computer-free long weekend. Remember what that feels like? I didn't.

While at the ArtsFest, we made sure to check out one of our favorite local bands - a band which I've already decided should sing the soundtrack of that movie that should be made based on our lives. (I'm not the only person that does this, right? we all have soundtracks in mind, right?) So, I was already feeling a little melancholy halfway through their set - it's not like their songs address infertility at all. But they do, like most good country-rock balladiers, sing a lot about love, longing, wanting, journeys to better places, and the process (and the sometimes pain) of the trip.

I might have been projecting.

The group also has what seems to be a disproportionate amount of hottie mommies amongst their fans. And they were all out. With their adorable young 'uns. Dancing. Frolicking. Loving the music and the day. One of our single friends (a hottie himself) was near the stage and he kept getting bombarded with kids running off the dance floor and into his arms where he would toss them around and nudge them back out onto the concrete to dance some more. Of course, once one kiddie saw the treatment, they all wanted some roughhousing and love. So he had his hands full for at least 3 songs.

This guy, hot as h*ll already, was even hotter in the context of his affection to the kids, who may have been offspring of other friends, a sister, a relative. Who knows. All I know is, I was thinking, d*mn, I don't think I remember ____ being that hot.

And then I started thinking about my own hottie sitting right next to me and wondering what it would be like to see hubby in that same context, only with kids that were ours.

And I was suddenly regretting forgetting my sunglasses at home. Because I really needed them.

I don't usually get caught up in the longing so this caught me a little off guard. I wondered if hubby was feeling the same. But I didn't ask. Because I didn't want to know. Because I think I do.

And d*mmit. I want to be a hottie mommy, too.

Old Habits Dye Hard

I woke up this morning from a bad dream to a splitting headache, a huge zit forming on my right cheek and later, a dizzy spell that made me want to puke. Thank you, lupron.

Needless to say, I was feeling neither attractive nor functional. Useless. To myself and others. What could I do to get myself out of this nasty funk? I knew. Oh, I knew.

I broke open the bottle.

Oh no she di'nt.

Oh yes, she did.

And now my hair is a lovely dark chestnut brown for the holidays. Ms. Clairol, you saved the day, like you always do.

Where You Been?

I dig fall.

Hubby is out at a football game with his dad and won't be home until the wee hours of night. Here I sit in my fuzzy vest and boots (boot season! finally!), sipping a freshly brewed cup of mulled wine, writing and stockpiling some articles, blog posts and other bits of words for when I am away next week at my work's annual conference.

You see, I have been a writing machine. You just can't tell it from here.

In addition to a little rock-n-rock blog that hubby, me and some of his pals have begun, I have also accepted a gig blogging about fertility in a much less personal and exposed way than here at Maybe Baby. That blog actually has my whole real name on it. Yikes. AND somehow hubby and I landed the job of "nightlife insiders" for our city's local rag. All that in addition to our day jobs, which are both fairly full of words, words, words.

So, all of that has been awesome, fantastic, wonderful! And proof that the world really does keep moving even when time seems to be at a standstill waiting for the start of the next DE attempt. If anything, these side projects are making the clock move a little faster towards December.

I dig fall, but I am not so crazy about Halloween.

When I was younger, I didn't mind it. Candy is awesome. But my costume was never as cool or as clever as I wanted it to be and our dad always managed to dig way deep into our stashes and eat the good stuff before my brother and I got to it. So, Halloween. It wasn't my favorite, but I didn't hate it.

Hubby, on the other hand, loathes it. Hates the idea of the holiday - both pagan and religious forms of it - is disgusted with the idea of kids begging for unnecessary items, isn't crazy about sweets and most of all, cannot stand a night where wearing masks and disguising your identity is encouraged and rewarded.

As you can see, it causes real existential pain to him.

Yessir. That's my hubby.

Meanwhile, here I am blogging about identity issues while trying to keep track of no less than 4 google accounts and as many log ons for various projects and publications. I don't think I could take one more layer of anonymity. I just might implode.

Thank you Easter Bunny - bwak bwak

My mother’s Easter feast (aka have some ham with that salt, some noodles with that gob of cheese and how about a little bread with that wad of butter) has left me out of sorts. Ever since Sunday all I want to do is sleep, and then sleep and then maybe take a little nap.

I blame the kielbasa.

But besides my present lethargy, we escaped from Sunday dinner relatively unscathed. The family function was fine. Uneventful even.

Which is hilarious to me, since just about everyone around the table is dealing with some significant life events. We just don’t care to talk about them with each other. My brother and I, for once on amicable terms, are trying to deal with some new discoveries about our sets of birth parents. Meanwhile, he’s on new meds, reassessing his life and contemplating tossing out his (very young and not that bright) live-in girlfriend. My aunt is seemingly engaged to some guy she just met on eHarmony. Us, well, you know the score. And we are all placing bets on the fact that my 19-year old cousin is pregnant.

Yet, my father asks, “So, what’s new?”

“Nothing.”

“Anything exciting going on?”

“Nope.”

“You guys got any plans for the spring.”

“Uh-uhn”

Around the table it goes. And then we get to hear for the umpteenth time about the time oh so long ago when he pretended to be Santa Claus and rang some bells outside the house and my brother and I nearly busted our bedposts trying to jump into them fast enough. I think I made him mad when I promised to do something really scandalous so he could have a new story to tell at holiday dinners. I thought it was very funny. As did my brother. I crack myself up.

But as you can tell, I’m not that interested in telling my parents what’s what just yet. They’ll be plenty of time for that. And anyway, after a quick start, I’m feeling a little stalled. I’m waiting for my gyn appointment this Friday (the 13^th! Ack.) and then hoping she can help me schedule an HSG to make sure this uterus is made for birthin’. Until then, life goes on as usual. Nothing new and exciting to report. We’ll just have to suffer through the broken bedpost story a few more times.