I'm not Beyoncé

When I heard Beyoncé was pregnant I was, of course, jealous and rolled my eyes a bit.  (Why?  I don't know.  I'm just a hater about pregnant women, I guess.  Especially famous ones.)  But, then someone pointed out that there had been rumors that she and Jay-Z might be going through infertility.  (I can't believe I'm talking about Beyoncé and Jay-Z on my blog...)

So, then I started thinking -- what kind of support system would Beyoncé be able to find if she were going through infertility?  Who would she turn to?  It must be tough.  She couldn't go on-line like we do.

Then I realized that of course she could.  She could be anonymous.  She'd have to hide the trail well, but it could happen.

In fact, she could be anyone I know.  How do I know that all of you aren't totally making up the outside life you have beyond IF?  You could all be award-winning international singing sensations for all I know.


So, then I started thinking about the women I knew on-line who were just about pregnant enough to show the way she did at the VMAs.

And that's when I started to realize that I was losing it.

...

Just a few more days of hope for a last minute miracle here. 

(And, no, I swear I'm not Beyoncé.  Really.)

(And now I've got "Single Ladies" stuck in my head...)

And, glitter. So much glitter.

• Classes start tomorrow and I am in complete denial.  Sure, I'm getting my classes and labs ready and the students are back on campus and stopping by to say 'hi.'  But, I can't get my head wrapped around the fact that I will be standing in front of a brand new class of students Friday morning (my Thursday labs don't start until next week).  I'm not usually like this.  I hope I snap out of it soon.
• I really want to add "Glitter...so much glitter" to the required materials on my syllabus.
• Thanks for all the love about my post about my DC trip.  It's hard to remember, but I know it isn't my fault and I'm trying to let it go. 
• Saturday afternoon we got to have a great surprise visit with my SIL and BIL and nephews.  They came down to stay at my FIL's cabin (about 30 minutes away) for the night and we went out to see them.  My younger nephew saw me and ran up to throw his arms around my legs and hug me.  Love, love, love.  Our older nephew still gives me the stink eye when he sees me -- and any other adult around him, I think.  I try so much to play with him and get him to want to play with me.  But, it doesn't really seem to work.  I hope he'll grow out of this at some point. 
• After a grand total of 2 minutes (I'm serious) of helping with the younger nephew, what did my BIL say?  All together, now.... "Tired, yet?"  Which leads me to believe that he either really is an ass (which I don't think is true), is just socially awkward (which could be) or he's read this blog and was trying to make a joke (I suppose that could be true).  If you are out there H, *please, please, please* STOP!!!!  One more time and I'm going to have to break out of *my* social awkwardness and specifically ask you to stop. Or pummel you.  That sounds good, too.
• Sunday morning at 7:30 am the phone rings.  I groggily answer to find that it is my FIL calling from about 5 minutes away with the entire family in tow.  "We're coming over."  Ack!  And, "we need breakfast."  Double Ack!  Who does that?  Um, we are completely unprepared for feeding two toddlers breakfast. (Not to mention that it was 7:30 in the morning on a Sunday.  I realize that, with kids, you're going to be up.  Well, we were enjoying one of the perks of *not* having them.)  The only kid-friendly cereal we had in the house was stale cheerios and skim milk (the kids drink 2%  so it might as well have been blue water).  We were out of eggs.  We had no pancakes or waffles or anything else Sunday morning breakfast-y.  I'm a vegetarian and my DH doesn't like breakfast meats, so none of that was around.  (Our weekday breakfasts are oatmeal for me and pop-tarts for him (don't get me started).  Our Sunday morning breakfast treat for ourselves is reading the newspaper at McDonald's with an egg and cheese muffin.)  Our house was in no way toddler friendly. We're in the middle of some construction projects so the entire dining room table was covered in sharp, scary tools.  There was a 1000 piece puzzle sitting 1/3 done on the living room coffee table that the two year old ran right to.  There was crap everywhere -- much of which was dangerous for small grabby hands.  We tried to feed them -- they wouldn't eat the cereal (shockingly).  We had to set them up on the outdoor table in the backyard.  We don't have a booster seat for the younger one so he couldn't even reach. Finally, after 45 minutes of this, we finally took them all to McDonald's.
• And, of course, who felt guilty about this whole event?  ME.  Of course I should have been prepared to have two children under 4 in my house.  Of course I should have been ready to cook breakfast at the drop of a hat for five adults and two toddlers.  Of course my house should be showroom ready at all times.  Of course I should have been awake at 7:30 on a Sunday.  Who *should* feel guilty?  My FIL who actually invited them to spend the night at his cabin and was completely unprepared for them.  My FIL who didn't think to *ask* the night before if they could come over -- which we would have welcomed if we'd been warned.  My FIL who, when we asked before we went out there on Saturday evening if he'd like us to bring some groceries, said "no, we don't need anything, I'm sure they'll bring stuff."  I love him, but sometimes he just doesn't think things through.
• Anyway, on the plus side, we got to hang around with the nephews at a park after breakfast and that is always fun and made it worth it.  Got some great smiles and hugs from the younger one and I even managed to play with the older one a bit and get a few smiles out of him.  That is, when he wasn't telling me I wasn't allowed to talk to him...
• I'm going to go get me some glitter.  And, denim.  And, a jump drive.  (I am in no way influenced by TV commercials for a certain chain that isn't even in my town.  Nosireebob.)

If you're not a mommy, you're just worth nothing, right?

So, I was reading yesterday's Dear Abby this morning over breakfast with my husband and I just about spewed my coffee across the table.

DEAR ABBY: A friend recently purchased a mother's ring from a pawn shop. When "Caron" told me about it, I told her she didn't have the right to wear one because she's not a mother. I discussed it with some other friends and they agreed with me, but Caron says I "overreacted" and that everyone is on HER side.

Caron says it's "just a ring" with different colored stones and she has every right to wear it if she wants to. The women who agree with me say a mother's ring is set with varied birthstones to commemorate the birth of a child born in a certain month, and that's why Caron has no right to wear it.

Caron says I'm crazy and need a therapist. She's ending our 10-year friendship because I will not agree with her. Am I right or wrong? -- RING OF TRUTH IN ARKANSAS  (From Dear Abby, 08-21-11)

Oh. My. G-d.  Seriously?  Seriously?  If you're a mother you can wear a ring with multiple gemstones.  If you're not, apparently, you have "no right to wear it?!"  No right?

Let me guess.  Those "other friends" are all self-righteous, holier-than-thou mothers just like you.  The kind who think that the only way that a woman can have worth and be an adult is if she's carried a child in her uterus and pushed him or her out living and breathing.  The kind who think they deserve "push presents."  The kind who tell me that I "can't know what it's like to really love someone" until I have a child. 

First of all, you have no idea what that ring means to Caron.  She might really feel that it is "just a ring."   She might also be commemorating events in her life that you couldn't possibly understand.  And, I would have to guess that she's ending your 10-year friendship because you have spent the last few days essentially saying to her "you're not a mother, so you don't count."  And, you've probably been saying that to her with more subtle actions during your entire relationship. 

I don't always agree with Abby's responses, but this time she got it right:

DEAR RING OF TRUTH: A ring with multicolored stones is not a military medal. There are no laws or official rules governing who may or may not wear one. Shame on you for trying to take the pleasure out of her purchase, and that you would drag others into your disagreement with Caron is disappointing and puzzling.  (From Dear Abby, 08-21-11)

Caron, you are better off without this woman or her friends in your life.  I hope her sour attitude hasn't kept you from enjoying the treat that you have given yourself.  Jewelry has no inherent "meaning" other than what we give it.  Enjoy your ring and whatever it means to you -- even if it is just something sparkly.

I blame myself sometimes

I don't like uncertainty. I hate that I've never really known why I miscarried last year. When I found out that the baby had died, we planned a D&C but I miscarried on my own in a hotel bathroom the night before the surgery was planned. Because of that, we weren't able to do any genetic testing. And, because it was *only* my first miscarriage, we weren't able to do any further tests on me (although we did some immunological tests on our own later).

The problem is, in the absence of a diagnosis, it is incredibly difficult not to blame myself. The little things that other pregnant women do with no worries now look like giant red flags that, in my mind on the darkest days, *must* have been what killed my child.

I bring this up because I hadn't realized how much guilt I was holding about one particular thing.  Last week I went to a meeting in Washington, DC.  It is the annual meeting for a large National Science Foundation grant that I share with others at my school.  Last year, the same meeting was held at the end of May instead of August.

When I went to the meeting last year, I was about 7 and a half weeks pregnant. I was stuck in the middle of horrible insomnia paired with early morning flights (I think I slept about ten hours total over the course of three days) and trying to keep myself fed to keep the nausea at bay. And, I did too much. I walked too much. I tired myself out. I got overheated. No one I was with knew I was pregnant (and were all guys), and I didn't bow out of things I should have (like ask if we could take the subway or a cab instead of walking two miles to dinner). I had a smidge of caffeine (a dash of regular in a cup of decaf). I flew on a plane. Twice.

None of this should have mattered, really. The likelihood that any of this is why the baby died is minimal. But, four weeks later when they told me the baby likely died at seven and a half weeks I started to blame myself. If I hadn't gone on that trip. If I'd taken a cab. If I hadn't gotten so hot. If I hadn't had that cup of coffee. If I had gotten more sleep.

I didn't realize how much I blamed myself until I realized how much I was dreading the meeting this year. I know it's not true. I know that I'm over emphasizing things that were tiny. I know that it is much more likely a genetic issue and the luck of the draw. I know it. I even know that it may be true that the baby died later than that and was just slow to develop or lost size.

All I could think while I was in DC last week is that I *should* have a seven month old child right now and that this meeting is when my child died. I *should* be telling people that this was the first time I'd been away from the baby. But I'm not. I *should* be regaling you all with tales of pumping in bathrooms. Instead I spent the meeting staring at myself in bathroom mirrors while downing Advil to try to keep the AF cramps at bay.

The meeting was interesting and professionally stimulating. There were interesting conversations and I really enjoyed it in that way.  There was great food and I had great beer.  The weather was gorgeous and I loved being out in a city.  Every so often, though, I caught my eye in the mirror and it just hit me. This is what I was doing when my baby died. These are the people I was talking to when my baby died. This is the restaurant I was in when my baby died. This is where I was when my baby died.


-------------------------------------------

I wrote the post above one night while I was still in DC.  I felt odd sharing it at the time because I didn't want to dwell on the feelings so I didn't post it.  But, something happened on the way home that made me think about it differently.  Some of you will remember the ring I got last year to help me remember my Spider baby.  I haven't been wearing it every day lately but I decided to wear it on the trip to give me something positive to think about.

On the flight home from Washington, at one point I reached behind my back and twisted to stretch a little.  When I brought my hand back, the stone from the ring was gone.  I looked all over the seat.  I looked under the seat.  I looked in the seat.  I looked on the floor behind me.  I looked in my pants, my shirt, my sweater.  I looked everywhere.  But, it was just gone.

And, I felt...OK.  I felt sad that part of the memory was gone.  But, I felt like it was OK to let it go. 

Let's dance the last dance

Well, today starts CD1 of our last "try" before IVF. I would really like to be one of "those" IFers who get pregnant while waiting for an IVF cycle. In fact, I already *was* one of those IFers last year. So, I know I may have already used up my "infertility irony" points, but wouldn't it be even better if it happened twice? And this one stuck? Wouldn't you all *love* to be able to tell that story?

"I know this girl who gets pregnant every time she schedules IVF."

I mean, we got this "extra" try because of my crazy 18 day cycle the month before last. We were supposed to be getting started on BCP in August but my cycle shifting by a week and a half made it so we could try once more on our own.  Which is what we really wanted in the first place. So, it seems to me that this is meant to be, right?

C'mon universe. It'll be funny. We'll all tell stories.  You know you want to.

Heads in a Jar

Made with the Futurama Head in a Jar iPhone app on my iPad.

(Or is that Heads in Jars?)


(It's kind of astounding how much that looks like my husband.)

(I made them while procrastinating on the poster I'm making for a meeting I'm going to next week.  I'm *really* tempted to put them on the poster...)

(I told you I was going to find something else to talk about...)

(AAAHH!  The parentheses!  Someone stop the parentheses!!!)

Tuuuuuuesdaaaay Aaaaafternooooon

(I'm hearing the Moody Blues in my head...)

(Which is much better than when it's Friday and I can't seem to get that damn Rebecca Black song out of my head despite only actually ever hearing it twice!!!)

Ok, so apparently I now blog approximately once a week.  I haven't really meant to do that, it's just kind of happened.  I want to get back into the habit again because it helped me immensely and I'd like to start talking about things other than my personal IF (since IF is anxiety-inducing and repetitive).  I've been hanging out on Mel's Prompt-ly list, but finding that I'm overwhelmed by it and having a hard time keeping up and chiming in.  I'm going to try to do more of that, though.

Meanwhile, anyone got some topics they'd like to talk about?

Onto some bullets:

• I didn't mean for my last post to sound so dramatic.  At some point I'll share what it was all about.  Thanks, again, for all the comments and support.  I'm feeling a lot better -- time and fewer hormones will do that to you.  (Of course, now we're just a few days from a whole new batch of hormones, but who's counting?)
• Last Thursday an alumnus of my program stopped by to chat.  He works at a big chemical production firm and we were talking about students' preparation for classes and the job market.  It was an interesting discussion and I was feeling very good -- I love talking about education with people who are interested.  Until the inevitable. We were discussing working with students on problem solving and he said something about trying to get his 14 year old son to understand calculations with units.  I agreed with the issues he was having and mentioned how I have a similar issue with my students and what I've done with them.  He interrupted and said "um, well, I'm pretty sure you don't have any kids of your own, right?  And, you're just talking about students?  It's different."  Um, excuse me?  My 13 years of experience teaching chemistry to nearly 1000 students is nullified because none of the kids WERE MINE?  What?  Yeah, your ability to help your child with his homework definitely means more than my experience as an actual teacher.  My bad.  I forgot.  I'm not a parent, so I don't count.
• This weekend my DH and I went up to his sister's house to help out with her kids while she was out of town at a meeting.  They just (as in the day before) moved to a new house, so it was a little chaotic.  I spent all weekend helping my BIL with their rambunctious 2 and 3 1/2 year old boys.  (My DH was distracted building a fence to toddler-proof their screened-in porch.)  It was exhausting but incredibly satisfying.  Yes, I felt like I might collapse at several points, but it just felt so good and useful, you know?  I love our nephews (despite the fact that the older one seems to hate me -- he hates anyone who isn't his mom, I think).  Putting the younger one down for a nap or at night was such an amazing experience.  And, yes, I lucked out that my BIL took the older one who resists sleeping for an hour or more and the younger one is angelic in comparison.  But, watching him slowly calm down just made me calm down, too.  But, I don't know, as exhausted as I felt, it just made me want it all more.  It was a satisfying exhaustion. 
• ...The reason I keep bringing that up is that my BIL never let an opportunity go by without saying "you're sure you want this?" or "Tired, yet?"  I understand that he's exhausted.  I understand that he's just trying to make a joke and connect.  I understand that moving in 100 degree heat with two toddlers and your wife out of town is insane.  I understand that we're all "getting older" and don't have nearly the energy of 20-year-olds doing this.  I understand all of that.  But, seriously?  You know what we've been through.  You know we've been TTC for nearly 3 years.  You know I had a m/c more than a year ago with nothing since.  You KNOW that we're probably about to start IVF.  You guys got pregnant easily, but your wife had two m/c before you had your first son.  You should know what that feels like. YES.  I AM SURE THAT I WANT THIS.  YES.  I AM TIRED BUT IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER.  Even with all the stress and exhaustion, would you wish your kids away?  I'd take a weekend of this sort of exhaustion that ends with giant hugs and kisses and squeals over swimming and watermelon drips and, yes, even nose-wiping and soothing cries over a weekend of being alone any day.  SHUT THE FUCK UP!
• Phew.  Sorry about that.
• Two of my only close friends around here just moved about 15 hours away.  Last Thursday was the last day we got to hang out -- our tradition is to watch Project Runway at their house every week so we got to watch the first episode of the new season together.  We always end up talking so much (and hitting pause) that the episodes take about 3 times longer than they actually are.  I'm so incredibly sad to see them go.  The husband of the couple got a new job and it is really an excellent opportunity for them as it is a great school and much closer to their families.  They were my only vegetarian friends in town and the only "couple" friends we have who are child-free and likely to stay that way.  The wife of the pair was my only close "girlfriend" in town.  I'm going to miss them immensely.  We'll try to keep in touch and we already have plans to Skype while watching Project Runway once they're settled down.  But, it just really isn't the same and it's been making me very sad.  I told my DH I just wish that it was easier to make real friends as an adult -- especially when you don't go to church and don't have kids.  I wish all of you guys lived closer and we could hang out together IRL!  :( 
• To end on a sweeter note:  Saturday was my mother's birthday.  I was hanging out with my younger nephew playing with cars (or trains or trucks or planes or some such thing -- these two kids are REALLY into transportation) when I remembered I needed to call her.  She wasn't around, so I left her a message saying "Happy Birthday!"  My nephew immediately chimed in and started singing the birthday song!  It was about the cutest thing I'd ever heard.  My mother loved it.  It broke my heart that it wasn't her own grandchild who was doing it, but it was still beautiful and sweet.

Wow, that was long.  See, this is why I need to write more often!

To sum up:  I'm doing better.  Apparently I don't know what I'm talking about when it comes to teaching because I'm not a parent.  My nephews are exhausting but fun.  Yes, I still want to have kids.  Phew.  I wish my friends hadn't moved so far away.  My nephew is adorable.

Any questions?  :)