Sunday, June 26, 2011

A Rude Awakening

Last week while doing some last-minute Father's Day shopping at one of my favorite retail establishments, I was rudely awakened out of my sickly stupor.

I was fighting a sinus infection, but had to get out and pick up a few things. As I was on cold medicine, some details are foggy, but others are crystal clear.

For some reason while the cashier was checking me out, she mentioned the fact that she had two teenagers, (it had to be the Sudafed talking and not me. Seriously, why did I engage a discussion with this person?), and stupid me said that she looked too young to have children that age.

She said, "Yeah, and I'm going to be a grandma in November. My 18-year old son's girlfriend is pregnant. I just turned 38."

My jaw dropped right there on the check-out counter and I found myself speechless. I told her that I was six months older than she was and that I didn't even have kids (well, I didn't want to explain my adopted son in Vietnam).

She didn't find it that strange at all and continued to tell me details that made me ill - "Well, at least I'm not the girl's mom. She'll be the one that has to take care of the kid." Lovely. Another episode of Teen Mom just waiting to happen.

I took my purchase and numbly walked out the door, shaking my head and once again questioning why it's been so damn hard for me (and other good, responsible women) to be a mom.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Don't forget about the waiting dads

Throughout the many, many years of trying to conceive and fertility treatments, most of the support from family and friends was for me, even though Jack Bauer was hurting, too. I don't think it was intentional, but as wanna-be moms, we usually get the emotional support and the wanna-be dads just get a hardy pat on the back. That's wrong.

It's happened throughout our adoption process, too. That's three years of the same thing. Now, most men can be tough nuts to crack emotionally, but even a "you doing OK?" can go a long, long way.

Father's Day won't be easy again. I think this is the 6th or 7th one where we totally expected to have bio babies or our darling adopted son with us. And, I know that Jack will feel will no different than how I felt on Mother's Day. It sucks. I wish I was with my little boy making daddy breakfast in bed, going for a hike and wrapping up the day with a barbeque.

This year the pain might be eased a bit thanks to my amazingly thoughtful 12-year old niece. She's spending the week with us and has declared tomorrow "Uncle's Day" and wants to do something special with her Uncle Jack. She thinks it's a crime that her fun uncle doesn't get his own day. This is the same sweet girl who had a "Best Aunt Ever Day" for me three years ago when she thought it was a travesty that I didn't have a day of my own. What a kid!

Besides, Jack Bauer is more of a dad than most. His commitment to our little boy trapped in Vietnam is incredible - engaging Senators, writing letters and briefing books, organizing paperwork, making calls, etc. He is tireless in the fight for our Nate and has done more than many fathers ever do for their kids.

Props, too, to the waiting dads who give us infertiles shots in our rear ends, buy us ice cream when we're moody and don't care when we put on weight and have acne break outs from all of the fertility drugs. And, don't forget all of the masturbating into plastic cups - guess it's not as fun as it seems.

It's hard to say "Happy Father's Day" to all of the trying-to-be-dads because it probably won't be too joyous, mostly bittersweet. Go out and do something fun and know that you're not alone.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

I really should clean out the medicine cabinet more often

On occasion, I run across an errant piece of my trying to conceive days. Usually, it throws me into a bit of a tailspin downward - remembering how I was hopeful, the pain of loss and the rampant mood swings. Ahhh... those were the days. Today, not so much, thank goodness, though it did make me wonder why I don't clean out the cabinet more often.

While looking for some antihistimines for hubby's allergies (which I never found), I ran across several half-used prescriptions (most of which had expired months ago), some multi-vitamins that expired in 2009, cough drops that were oozing out of their wrappers, some spray for my old dog's sore leg that was dated 2005, and cat treats that I think have petrified.

And, amid the Tums, Tylenol, Fish Oil and dog ear cleaner, at the very back of the cabinet, I found two syringes, seven injection pen caps, 17 gauze pads (why do we need 3"x3" gauze pads for pin-prick sized injection spots?), 24 alcohol wipes (which I will keep), and the package insert for my Gonal Pen, which I must've read a dozen times based on is crinkled state. At the time, I was obsessed with what wacky side effects I might get, and I did end up hyperstimulating, so it was with good reason that I was so familiar with the information. I think I am going to toss it in the grill while I cook my tilapia tonight.

Almost any time I clean something out - linen closet or bathroom drawers, I run across one of my old "friends." At what point do these crappy reminders cease from being in my house? I guess I should do a top to bottom cleaning and rid my home of infertility paraphenalia. Of course, the likelihood of that is slim to none, so I guess I'll just have to deal with the consequences the next time.

Luckily for me, I have a nice glass of savignon blanc to get me through the tossing of the syringes and pen toppers -- too bad I don't have my little red biohazard container anymore.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Where for art thou, period?

FYI - this post definitely enters the realm of way too much info.

I've stopped being diligent about counting days in between periods. What I used to track with military precision has now been cast off to something that I just guess at. As long as I have one at some point during the month, I don't even think about it because I know I'm not going to get pregnant.

However, last weekend, the last one of the month, I realized that I hadn't seen my "friend" in May. Hmmmm... I thought, "Surely this infertile, who's been trying for more than six years by both medical and traditional methods isn't pregnant... but what if?" Even my husband gave me a quizzical look when I mentioned it to him.

So, rather than immediately running out and buying an HPT, I stewed for a couple days, wondering if a miracle had happened. Of course, as you know, a lot of times, the pre-menstrual symptoms can be similiar to early pregnancy - sore boobs, moody, light abdominal cramping and bloating.

Of course, not to be "disappointed," my period showed up just late enough to tease me.

Then, I had an epiphany. Why do I still have to have my period? I determined that since I was 12 and a half, the only months that I haven't had one, were the three months that I was on Lupron. Why should we infertiles continued to be tortured by this unwelcome event each month (especially now that OB tampons are off the market, which is a whole other rant I have. Those were the best!)?!?

Having our little "friend" show up once a month or whenever she decides to is just another reminder that we can't get pregnant. I think that infertiles should get a pass to not have periods any more, especially if they're technically not trying to have a baby any more.

Damn you, uterus!