Just read an article saying that more Chinese couples are trying to get pregnant right now so that they can have a child in the Year of the Dragon. In fact, they are even undergoing fertility treatments so that they have an even better chance to conceive.
Wow - that's pushing it in my opinion. Can't imagine choosing to go on follistims, estrogen or the worst, testosterone, just to have a child within a 12-month period. Oh, wait a minute, I did do that - it's just that it was because I wanted a baby as soon as possible, not to have one within a certain time of year.
I also can't imagine shelling out the big bucks to get pregnant unless it was my only option (which it was - and yet still didn't work).
The dragon is the creme de la creme of Chinese zodiac symbols. It's lucky to be born in that year and the child has a better chance of success and be powerful.
Of course, I was born in the year of the rat, so I don't think I have much leverage. Perhaps if you're born in the rodent's year, you are more likely not to ever conceive. Two years ago was the year of the rabbit, and I've got to believe those are some people who can easily multiply.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
We are a family of three!
After seven years of trying to get pregnant and 1,291 days of waiting to adopt our little boy from Vietnam, on Christmas Day 2011, we became a family of three.
We were in Vietnam for five weeks waiting for this miracle to happen. We had some pretty bleak and desperate moments in our journey to bring a child into our lives, but I can adamantly say, he was well worth the wait.
Although we are incredibly blessed and I feel adoption was how our family was supposed to be made whole, infertility will always be part of who I am. Granted, it is now safely on the backburner and I never expect it to be front and center again.
And, because I have a very adorable and active 4-year old at home, my blogging about infertility will be quite limited from now on. I plan to continue to blog about infertility when I have time or a good topic comes to mind that I just can't resist giving my two cents worth. In the meantime, please peruse former blog entries - most of them are pretty evergreen.
We were in Vietnam for five weeks waiting for this miracle to happen. We had some pretty bleak and desperate moments in our journey to bring a child into our lives, but I can adamantly say, he was well worth the wait.
Although we are incredibly blessed and I feel adoption was how our family was supposed to be made whole, infertility will always be part of who I am. Granted, it is now safely on the backburner and I never expect it to be front and center again.
And, because I have a very adorable and active 4-year old at home, my blogging about infertility will be quite limited from now on. I plan to continue to blog about infertility when I have time or a good topic comes to mind that I just can't resist giving my two cents worth. In the meantime, please peruse former blog entries - most of them are pretty evergreen.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Wishing my life a-way-ay
I've wanted a child of my own for more than seven years. Over that time, I feel like most of it has been counting in some way or another -- counting days of my cycle, counting the days until I could have a feriltized egg implanted, counting the days until paperwork gets cleared for our adoption, counting how many kids my friends have had over that time period (you don't want to know the number), counting missed birthdays and Christmases of our adopted son, counting, counting, counting.
I've never been someone who wants to wish her life away. I have always been one to live my life to the fullest. However, when it has come to trying to build a family, it seems that it's an impossibility. I have been wishing more than 2,300 days away in hopes that the next morrow would be the one when I would become a mom.
It's not that I haven't done important, fun and worthwhile things over the course of that time; but the 7/10s of a decade has been in a limbo of sorts.
Waiting and waiting and waiting to get pregnant or bring our son home. To say that I've been patient is an understatement. Infertiles and waiting parents are some of the most patient people I've ever known, but sometimes it can reek havoc on even the most sane or tolerant. But, I really hope that they haven't put other parts of their life on hold.
It can be overwhelming and hard to get out of this purgatory. But, my guess is that it will be well worth the wait.
I've never been someone who wants to wish her life away. I have always been one to live my life to the fullest. However, when it has come to trying to build a family, it seems that it's an impossibility. I have been wishing more than 2,300 days away in hopes that the next morrow would be the one when I would become a mom.
It's not that I haven't done important, fun and worthwhile things over the course of that time; but the 7/10s of a decade has been in a limbo of sorts.
Waiting and waiting and waiting to get pregnant or bring our son home. To say that I've been patient is an understatement. Infertiles and waiting parents are some of the most patient people I've ever known, but sometimes it can reek havoc on even the most sane or tolerant. But, I really hope that they haven't put other parts of their life on hold.
It can be overwhelming and hard to get out of this purgatory. But, my guess is that it will be well worth the wait.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Some OB/GYNs need sensitivity training
Yesterday, I had the unfortunate experience of having my annual GYN exam. And, it wasn't for the reason you might think. As an infertile, I've had my hoo-haw looked at and poked at more times than most women twice my age. So, clearly I don't mind the exam.
What I do mind, however, is the following:
1. As soon as I sit down in the waiting room, I come face to face with a very cute and very pregnant gal across the way, who proceeds to rub her belly, stand up, walk around and make sure that everyone is noticing how uncomfortable she is.
2. I have major bones to pick with my doctor's office scale. I swear it's at least 15 pounds heavy.
3. The fact that the medical technical asked me what birth control I'm on. Really...
4. The fact that my doctor asked me what birth control I'm on. When I told her it was impossible for me to get pregnant, she actually argued with me a little bit. Note that this is not my fertility doc, just my GYN. "It could happen, Lu." Again, really?
5. That my doctor, who just came back to work after having her second child, complained to me about how difficult it is to parent two children almost the entire time she was in the exam room. Really?
It took all I had not to make a snarky remark about how she should just thank her lucky stars that she has been able to give birth to two healthy kids because some of us have never and will never be able to.
I would like to propose that at OB/GYN offices, any women who are pregnancy virgins or have challenges childbearing, should have bright yellow stickers on their files folders or a flag on the electronic medical record that indicates that we are infertile. I think that would eliminate a lot of unnecessary questioning and awkward answers. Better yet, I would be happy to do some sensitivity training for these docs with a lack of appropriate bedside manner. Truly, it's not that hard. Instead of asking us about birth control and getting pregnant, just discuss the weather or how lovely our cervixes are.
And, visibly pregnant ladies, please don't parade that belly right in front of me.
What I do mind, however, is the following:
1. As soon as I sit down in the waiting room, I come face to face with a very cute and very pregnant gal across the way, who proceeds to rub her belly, stand up, walk around and make sure that everyone is noticing how uncomfortable she is.
2. I have major bones to pick with my doctor's office scale. I swear it's at least 15 pounds heavy.
3. The fact that the medical technical asked me what birth control I'm on. Really...
4. The fact that my doctor asked me what birth control I'm on. When I told her it was impossible for me to get pregnant, she actually argued with me a little bit. Note that this is not my fertility doc, just my GYN. "It could happen, Lu." Again, really?
5. That my doctor, who just came back to work after having her second child, complained to me about how difficult it is to parent two children almost the entire time she was in the exam room. Really?
It took all I had not to make a snarky remark about how she should just thank her lucky stars that she has been able to give birth to two healthy kids because some of us have never and will never be able to.
I would like to propose that at OB/GYN offices, any women who are pregnancy virgins or have challenges childbearing, should have bright yellow stickers on their files folders or a flag on the electronic medical record that indicates that we are infertile. I think that would eliminate a lot of unnecessary questioning and awkward answers. Better yet, I would be happy to do some sensitivity training for these docs with a lack of appropriate bedside manner. Truly, it's not that hard. Instead of asking us about birth control and getting pregnant, just discuss the weather or how lovely our cervixes are.
And, visibly pregnant ladies, please don't parade that belly right in front of me.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Pent Up Parenting
When you're closing in on 39 years of age and you want a child, but have never had one, the need to parent can become overwhelming. Since I started trying to have a baby almost seven years ago, that's a lot of mothering that I've needed to get out of my system. At least, that's where I find myself right now.
Sure, I consider myself an excellent mother to my adopted son, who still isn't here. I have never given up on getting him home and spend hours working with our attorney and Senator staffers, strategizing, doing paperwork, praying, worrying and dreaming about his future.
But, I need to be childrearing in person. My poor dogs and cats are treated as though they are my tots walking around on four legs. When they get in trouble, I send them to time outs and I also restrict their TV and computer time. (Note: this doesn't seem to affect their behavior much).
When I talk to friends or colleagues about their kids, it's all I can do to not give out my own parenting advice. A work friend was telling me how he didn't want his kids to focus on just one sport or activity just yet. He wanted to give them an opportunity to try lots of different things before settling on just playing baseball or the clarinet. I really wanted tell him that I thought that was a good idea and that I hope to do that with our own child. But, I think that would just be weird.
In Church, it's all I can do to not scold unruly or loud kids, and the same is true when I'm in Target and see a kid whining about wanting a toy and stomping his feet.
Conversely, I not only want to parent kids, but I want to give advice to their moms and dads. When I see kids not strapped in seat belts, I roll my window down and give the "parent" a piece of my mind. The same is true when I see a mom buying four boxes of the sugariest cereal on the market to feed to her crew (this happened just last week).
I am not saying I will be a perfect parent by any means, but the desire I have is palpitable right now. It's all bottled up and it has very few places to be expended. I'm like a dormant volcano whose top is about to blow.
My dogs don't understand what I mean when I ask them to put their toys back in their box and they're pretty good about eating everything on their plates.
So if you see me coming toward you or your kid you might want to watch out. I just might tell you to put your kid's hood up and wipe the milk mustache off his face.
Sure, I consider myself an excellent mother to my adopted son, who still isn't here. I have never given up on getting him home and spend hours working with our attorney and Senator staffers, strategizing, doing paperwork, praying, worrying and dreaming about his future.
But, I need to be childrearing in person. My poor dogs and cats are treated as though they are my tots walking around on four legs. When they get in trouble, I send them to time outs and I also restrict their TV and computer time. (Note: this doesn't seem to affect their behavior much).
When I talk to friends or colleagues about their kids, it's all I can do to not give out my own parenting advice. A work friend was telling me how he didn't want his kids to focus on just one sport or activity just yet. He wanted to give them an opportunity to try lots of different things before settling on just playing baseball or the clarinet. I really wanted tell him that I thought that was a good idea and that I hope to do that with our own child. But, I think that would just be weird.
In Church, it's all I can do to not scold unruly or loud kids, and the same is true when I'm in Target and see a kid whining about wanting a toy and stomping his feet.
Conversely, I not only want to parent kids, but I want to give advice to their moms and dads. When I see kids not strapped in seat belts, I roll my window down and give the "parent" a piece of my mind. The same is true when I see a mom buying four boxes of the sugariest cereal on the market to feed to her crew (this happened just last week).
I am not saying I will be a perfect parent by any means, but the desire I have is palpitable right now. It's all bottled up and it has very few places to be expended. I'm like a dormant volcano whose top is about to blow.
My dogs don't understand what I mean when I ask them to put their toys back in their box and they're pretty good about eating everything on their plates.
So if you see me coming toward you or your kid you might want to watch out. I just might tell you to put your kid's hood up and wipe the milk mustache off his face.
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