As I hinted at in my last post, I feel like I can't really do what I need to do fertility-treatment-wise given work. (I work at a company that does education stuff, enough on that.)
I haven't been there that long (several months, but less than a year). I have already had several false starts work-wise since my LH's death, so I don't want to quit outright, even if I had something else I could do part-time that would still somehow have benefits and more than $5 a paycheck. This job was mostly a foot-in-the-door type thing (but the benefits and an okay paycheck considering the position are really good too), so I don't want to burn any bridges, either. The vacation/sick policy is not horrible, but I have effectively used up all my days on a big trip that had to be negotiated into my starting paperwork already. So I basically have no time off that is not already a company holiday until after the New Year.
While there is some flexibility in my department in being able to take the occasional (and I do stress OCCASIONAL) couple of hours for a doctor's appointment and not be docked for it, I had several appointments in a row in late May-early June. I had put them off for a while already (checkups, follow-ups for stuff I'm supposed to get checked every so often, etc.). My boss was understanding at first, but then I could tell that she was annoyed by the number of appointments (despite the fact that I had given her ample warning that these were coming up, and had been making up the lost time). I finally had to print something out for her to let her know that I was dealing with fertility issues, and she was cool about it (I think she may have dealt with some of this herself when she was younger).
But, I just don't know if I will be able to keep up with sufficiently focusing on the job (which had already been getting increasingly difficult as I've begun to realize that I really am not ovulating, and thus will have to enter the realm of fertility treatments), in addition to trying to somehow work it out with my boss to do whatever appointments I'll need to do if I go on Metformin or Clomid. Not to mention the likely side effects of abdominal cramping and probably having to live in the bathroom for the first few weeks of Met, and/or the potential mood issues if we go straight to the Clomid.
To further complicate things, L and I are in the process of buying a new condo. While my pay is not a lot, it's still something, so I really kind of would have to continue in the position until we have a locked-in mortgage. I'm not sure how soon that will really have to be (officially we only have 45 days, but given that the place won't be done until late fall-early winter...?). And as I said, the benefits are good and COBRA is expensive on top of copays etc., so I feel like I shouldn't quit or go down to part-time without benefits (even if there were a position like that that I could take). So I just don't know what to do!!!
I figure, for the summer, I'll try to make whatever appointments on Friday afternoons (although that's tough, obviously, since doctors may be closing early on Fridays too), since we get summer Friday flex-time, and hope that somehow we get lucky in the next couple of months. But it kills me to continue to do the wait-and-see but not really do anything productive, because I don't know if I can take the side effects of the Met, or the additional appointments required of the Clomid. (What I've heard about the Met side effects sound in part much like how my stomach felt for about 2 years surrounding my LH's death... I never want to go back to feeling like that again!)
Am I just a wuss about the job stuff, and about being afraid of the side effects if I can't just take a sick day here or there? Am I just stalling? Am I afraid we'll actually get pregnant, paradoxical though that is?! I just don't know...
Oh, and this morning, we're meeting friends for brunch. I love brunch, big fan. But a friend in this group who normally doesn't show up to these things is coming... she got PG by semi-accident before she and her husband married, and now is pregnant with the second one. You think she's super-fertile?! (The kids will be only 18 months apart.) She only met her husband a couple of months before L and I met, and we didn't dilly-dally about getting engaged and married. To make it worse, it doesn't really occur to M that there can be other perspectives on life - she decides she wants to do or say something, and nothing will deter her. (But she seems very sweet and cute and harmless before you get to know that side of her.) Some of the same friends who saw me break down the other night (my husband gave them the topline summary while I went to the bathroom to wash off the Tammy Faye streaks on my face after crying) have been really nice asking how I was doing etc. At L's request, they have promised to help keep the pregnant one from making the whole conversation about her, her kid, and her pregnancy, which I REALLY appreciate. L said he'll also make sure I don't have to sit next to M., so I will hopefully not have to talk with her much at all.
I am not looking forward to seeing M, especially after the last few days I've had relative to other people's pregnancy news etc., and given that she is the not-so-empathic type. At the same time, I'm schizo about the kid thing - I went to a BBQ on the 4th for a couple of hours, and those friends have a baby. I wound up holding the baby for a while, talking to her, etc. But my pleasure in holding her was precariously close to my heart breaking again over the fertility issues we're facing...
Anyway, here is some of the issue as far as work/life expectations. To mangle a quote from Charlotte on "Sex & the City", "It's tradition! We will not behave like a typical barren couple! We have to LIVE!!!" I feel like that's what's expected of me/us. I'm not supposed to quit my job/shift to part-time to give myself the time and mental/emotional space to try to conceive, because I'm not supposed to put ANYTHING in my life on hold in the quest for a baby. I'm not supposed to mind hearing about other people's pregnancies, babies, toddlers, etc., since of course they have the right to get pregnant by looking at their husbands, and it's not their fault I can't do the same. I'm not supposed to be anything other than happy for my good friend who just got pregnant after only 2 cycles of not-preventing, instead of feeling guilty for not being happier for her and angry that I'm not right there with her. (I would be the logical person to offer to hold a small shower for her in the area when she is here around the holidays, but I don't know if I could do that without having to serve up a voodoo version of my heart on a platter for everyone to ritually stab, just to give physical representation to how I would probably feel if I did follow through with giving her a baby shower.) I'm not supposed to really resent the woman in the next department over at work who just came back to work after having her baby back in February, who has a bunch of baby pics plastered all over her office door that I have to walk by all the time.
There is a lot of "I'm not supposed to feel/act that way" in this infertility thing, and the choices in every way are not easy - work, treatments, friends, etc. I'm still trying to even begin to get a grip on them.
Okay, I'm going to try to get to sleep now, really.
Showing posts with label infertility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label infertility. Show all posts
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Late night musings on fertility issues...
I started posting in response to the NYTimes' multimedia feature "Voices of Infertility", but thought better of it, figuring I should edit it and repost it here. Forgive me if there is some repetition of events, but this gives more detail.
To anyone insensitive (or just flat out completely ignorant) toward those with fertility issues....
Until you have gone through fertility problems, don't you DARE say you judge those who feel "lifeless" and grief etc. because they have fertility problems. When you can't get pregnant easily and naturally, it has a way of creeping over everything in your life.
I need to find some way of talking with my boss (even though I think/hope that my boss will be understanding) of the fact that I need time to go to doctor's appointments for the situation. Seems like not such a big thing, a doctor's appointment or two. But the appointments multiply, and I know that these 1-2 appointments will become more follow-ups and ultrasounds and sick days I don't have due to side effects of medicines I'll probably be given to try to help my chances of conceiving. Thus, I am afraid to tell my boss what I'm going through, even though she/he can tell you're distracted etc. and even though I THINK they might be sympathetic, it'll still get in the way of their doing their OWN job. So I feel guilty about even bringing it up and asking for more understanding about this, because I feel incompetent enough in my job given how distracted I already am. And because I'm afraid (even if it's not exactly legal) that will eventually lead to it being suggested that I "move on from that position", when I need the insurance and the money (even if the pay isn't that great) that come with the job.
A few days ago, I e-mailed with a friend who I haven't talked to in a while, and I decided to try to open up a little about my fertility problems. He used to be a good friend of my LH's, and a friend of mine as well. But honestly, I haven't talked much with him in the 2 1/2 years since his wife was pregnant with their first child, he knew I was in a world of pain still about having not had kids with my LH, and yet he e-mailed me this joyful e-mail about feeling his child move inside his wife etc. On what PLANET was I an appropriate recipient for that e-mail?!?!
Anyway, so I told him about my PCOS and about how we were trying to decide on what treatments and when. When he wrote back, instead of even offering the platitude, "We'll pray for you/send good fertility thoughts your way," he launches into the fact that that they are 9 months pregnant with their second child. Without even acknowledging what you just said about your own fertility status. He didn't tell me, because they were afraid of how I would react. Um, like I wasn't going to find out. They could have told me (kindly and gently but directly, without undue delay, and without a lot of fanfare, is usually best when telling someone with fertility issues) when they were only 3-4 months out, but they didn't. And then the he procedes to crow about how great being a parent is, and how you and your spouse will make great parents (again, no acknowledgement that I'd already told him that we were TRYING SO HARD to join that club, but it's just not working!!!!). So that drives a further wedge into that friendship. Even though you've known this friend for 15-20 years, I start thinking maybe it's another lost friendship due to fertility issues.
An hour later, I found out that a good friend who who I have known for almost half my life and who has been very sweet and supportive particularly through my LH's illness and the ensuing 2 year morass of grief, got pregnant after only 2 months of not even really trying, just not preventing. You had both wanted to be pregnant at the same time. I was happy (or trying really hard to be) for my friend, but feeling guilty because I'm not able to be happier for her, but at the same time angry that I'm not pregnant too, afraid this will be yet ANOTHER friendship lost due to fertility differences, etc. My friend is, again, truly sweet about saying she knows it may be hard for you that she got pregnant, she understands if you won't want to hear a lot of the details, etc. She's babbling, it's awkward for her too, she's somehow trying to make it all better when you both know there aren't words to magically conjure up a BFP for me too. For much of this conversation, I'm standing out in front of a bar. Somehow I manage to congratulate her and finally get off the phone.
I finally walked into the bar where I'm meeting my husband and a bunch of other friends for dinner. I'd been doing so well. In a moment, I can't hold it back anymore. My house of cards comes down all at once, a la a tired, cranky toddler, and I burst into tears at the table. My heart is breaking open along fault lines very close to those opened up by my LH's illness, death, and the loss of our planned-for family. My husband quickly sees that I'm not going to be able to pull it together after half a minute, and pulls me outside. I sob on his shoulder, heart wounded and aching desperately. In front of the outdoor seating, how wonderful.
Are you dying of the infertility? No. But it sure as hell hurts.
On the responses to the NYTimes piece, some people say, "It's not like you have cancer." And of course, that's true. However, I watched my mom battle back from cancer, and only a few short months after she finished active treatment, my LH (only 28 at the time) was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer. We tried everything possible to get him better, or at least get another year or two of "quality time" in remission. Neither one happened. I know the heartbreak of cancer - not from the perspective of the patient - but from that of a closest relative.
Having been through all that, I can't help but feel two ways. Could I somehow find meaning in my life if my new husband and I can't have children? I suppose so. I survived losing my LH, something I NEVER thought I could do - and also survived the worst of the mourning of not being able to have the kids we'd dreamed of having together. And what's more, I fell in love again and took the chance of getting remarried, and hoping again. I've been gradually battling back to try to reclaim my mess of a work life. All of this is more than I thought myself capable of.
HOWEVER - do I really want to be forced to completely rewrite my visions of and hopes for my future, yet AGAIN, as I had to do following my LH's death? Absolutely not!!!! It virtually killed me to begin to rewrite my life once already. I feel like I should have a pass, so to speak, from fertility problems. Haven't I been through enough?!?! I'm sure so many who find themselves with fertility problems after having been through other stuff in their lives feel similarly... it's just not fair that those of us who have already been through the wringer in other ways in particular can't just easily get pregnant and bear healthy children, and be spared that set of heartbreak!
On that topic, I have a widow friend who lost her LH to cancer a few months before I lost mine. (We met through an online group.) She had been told after she married her LH that she was already in premature ovarian failure, at age 30, and when her LH had already had a couple of bouts of cancer and was in remission. She told me the name of the girl she'd dreamed of having with him. Although she didn't talk about it a lot, I could tell it was terribly painful for her. Fast forward a while after her LH died (and before I met mine). She met a guy she liked, and who was open about the fact that he liked her, wanted to be a husband and father, etc. She told him not to date her because she was a young widow (too much baggage) and had been told years before (by then she was in her mid-30s) that she couldn't have children. He said he wanted to get to know her, and they would see. Well, several months later, she hinted something was going on... she was almost 5 months pregnant!!! They had gotten completely, accidentally pregnant when she thought it wasn't even possible for her! The baby came early but was healthy, and then they went to City Hall, baby in arms, a few weeks later. They are happy and so grateful for their son, but I know my friend has not forgotten what it was like to deal with both the cancer spouse/young cancer widow thing, and the fertility issues. I keep hoping that maybe, somehow, I will have my own version of this happiness-out-of-sadness story...
I am wearing a string around my middle most days now. It's from an acquaintance who hadn't gotten PG after several months of not-preventing (of course, I think, for goodness' sake, why didn't you chart and use OPKs long before that?!). Anyway, she's very spiritual, and in her tradition, the Old Wives recommend wearing a string around your middle to bring on the fertility. She did it - and wound up pregnant with fraternal twins! She wore it all through her pregnancy. Then she got PG again, but didn't wear the string and miscarried, so she's a big believer in the string. She cut me a piece of the original ball and told me to wear it. I figure, what the hell, can't hurt, right?! Geez. If by some chance I get prgnant while doing the string thing, I swear I'll frame the damn thing!
Anyway... I suppose I should try to sleep. I haven't had sleep issues like I've had the last couple of weeks in probably almost 2 years, since the end of my years of sleep issues surrounding my LH's illness and death.
To anyone insensitive (or just flat out completely ignorant) toward those with fertility issues....
Until you have gone through fertility problems, don't you DARE say you judge those who feel "lifeless" and grief etc. because they have fertility problems. When you can't get pregnant easily and naturally, it has a way of creeping over everything in your life.
I need to find some way of talking with my boss (even though I think/hope that my boss will be understanding) of the fact that I need time to go to doctor's appointments for the situation. Seems like not such a big thing, a doctor's appointment or two. But the appointments multiply, and I know that these 1-2 appointments will become more follow-ups and ultrasounds and sick days I don't have due to side effects of medicines I'll probably be given to try to help my chances of conceiving. Thus, I am afraid to tell my boss what I'm going through, even though she/he can tell you're distracted etc. and even though I THINK they might be sympathetic, it'll still get in the way of their doing their OWN job. So I feel guilty about even bringing it up and asking for more understanding about this, because I feel incompetent enough in my job given how distracted I already am. And because I'm afraid (even if it's not exactly legal) that will eventually lead to it being suggested that I "move on from that position", when I need the insurance and the money (even if the pay isn't that great) that come with the job.
A few days ago, I e-mailed with a friend who I haven't talked to in a while, and I decided to try to open up a little about my fertility problems. He used to be a good friend of my LH's, and a friend of mine as well. But honestly, I haven't talked much with him in the 2 1/2 years since his wife was pregnant with their first child, he knew I was in a world of pain still about having not had kids with my LH, and yet he e-mailed me this joyful e-mail about feeling his child move inside his wife etc. On what PLANET was I an appropriate recipient for that e-mail?!?!
Anyway, so I told him about my PCOS and about how we were trying to decide on what treatments and when. When he wrote back, instead of even offering the platitude, "We'll pray for you/send good fertility thoughts your way," he launches into the fact that that they are 9 months pregnant with their second child. Without even acknowledging what you just said about your own fertility status. He didn't tell me, because they were afraid of how I would react. Um, like I wasn't going to find out. They could have told me (kindly and gently but directly, without undue delay, and without a lot of fanfare, is usually best when telling someone with fertility issues) when they were only 3-4 months out, but they didn't. And then the he procedes to crow about how great being a parent is, and how you and your spouse will make great parents (again, no acknowledgement that I'd already told him that we were TRYING SO HARD to join that club, but it's just not working!!!!). So that drives a further wedge into that friendship. Even though you've known this friend for 15-20 years, I start thinking maybe it's another lost friendship due to fertility issues.
An hour later, I found out that a good friend who who I have known for almost half my life and who has been very sweet and supportive particularly through my LH's illness and the ensuing 2 year morass of grief, got pregnant after only 2 months of not even really trying, just not preventing. You had both wanted to be pregnant at the same time. I was happy (or trying really hard to be) for my friend, but feeling guilty because I'm not able to be happier for her, but at the same time angry that I'm not pregnant too, afraid this will be yet ANOTHER friendship lost due to fertility differences, etc. My friend is, again, truly sweet about saying she knows it may be hard for you that she got pregnant, she understands if you won't want to hear a lot of the details, etc. She's babbling, it's awkward for her too, she's somehow trying to make it all better when you both know there aren't words to magically conjure up a BFP for me too. For much of this conversation, I'm standing out in front of a bar. Somehow I manage to congratulate her and finally get off the phone.
I finally walked into the bar where I'm meeting my husband and a bunch of other friends for dinner. I'd been doing so well. In a moment, I can't hold it back anymore. My house of cards comes down all at once, a la a tired, cranky toddler, and I burst into tears at the table. My heart is breaking open along fault lines very close to those opened up by my LH's illness, death, and the loss of our planned-for family. My husband quickly sees that I'm not going to be able to pull it together after half a minute, and pulls me outside. I sob on his shoulder, heart wounded and aching desperately. In front of the outdoor seating, how wonderful.
Are you dying of the infertility? No. But it sure as hell hurts.
On the responses to the NYTimes piece, some people say, "It's not like you have cancer." And of course, that's true. However, I watched my mom battle back from cancer, and only a few short months after she finished active treatment, my LH (only 28 at the time) was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer. We tried everything possible to get him better, or at least get another year or two of "quality time" in remission. Neither one happened. I know the heartbreak of cancer - not from the perspective of the patient - but from that of a closest relative.
Having been through all that, I can't help but feel two ways. Could I somehow find meaning in my life if my new husband and I can't have children? I suppose so. I survived losing my LH, something I NEVER thought I could do - and also survived the worst of the mourning of not being able to have the kids we'd dreamed of having together. And what's more, I fell in love again and took the chance of getting remarried, and hoping again. I've been gradually battling back to try to reclaim my mess of a work life. All of this is more than I thought myself capable of.
HOWEVER - do I really want to be forced to completely rewrite my visions of and hopes for my future, yet AGAIN, as I had to do following my LH's death? Absolutely not!!!! It virtually killed me to begin to rewrite my life once already. I feel like I should have a pass, so to speak, from fertility problems. Haven't I been through enough?!?! I'm sure so many who find themselves with fertility problems after having been through other stuff in their lives feel similarly... it's just not fair that those of us who have already been through the wringer in other ways in particular can't just easily get pregnant and bear healthy children, and be spared that set of heartbreak!
On that topic, I have a widow friend who lost her LH to cancer a few months before I lost mine. (We met through an online group.) She had been told after she married her LH that she was already in premature ovarian failure, at age 30, and when her LH had already had a couple of bouts of cancer and was in remission. She told me the name of the girl she'd dreamed of having with him. Although she didn't talk about it a lot, I could tell it was terribly painful for her. Fast forward a while after her LH died (and before I met mine). She met a guy she liked, and who was open about the fact that he liked her, wanted to be a husband and father, etc. She told him not to date her because she was a young widow (too much baggage) and had been told years before (by then she was in her mid-30s) that she couldn't have children. He said he wanted to get to know her, and they would see. Well, several months later, she hinted something was going on... she was almost 5 months pregnant!!! They had gotten completely, accidentally pregnant when she thought it wasn't even possible for her! The baby came early but was healthy, and then they went to City Hall, baby in arms, a few weeks later. They are happy and so grateful for their son, but I know my friend has not forgotten what it was like to deal with both the cancer spouse/young cancer widow thing, and the fertility issues. I keep hoping that maybe, somehow, I will have my own version of this happiness-out-of-sadness story...
I am wearing a string around my middle most days now. It's from an acquaintance who hadn't gotten PG after several months of not-preventing (of course, I think, for goodness' sake, why didn't you chart and use OPKs long before that?!). Anyway, she's very spiritual, and in her tradition, the Old Wives recommend wearing a string around your middle to bring on the fertility. She did it - and wound up pregnant with fraternal twins! She wore it all through her pregnancy. Then she got PG again, but didn't wear the string and miscarried, so she's a big believer in the string. She cut me a piece of the original ball and told me to wear it. I figure, what the hell, can't hurt, right?! Geez. If by some chance I get prgnant while doing the string thing, I swear I'll frame the damn thing!
Anyway... I suppose I should try to sleep. I haven't had sleep issues like I've had the last couple of weeks in probably almost 2 years, since the end of my years of sleep issues surrounding my LH's illness and death.
Labels:
fertility,
friends,
infertility,
New York Times,
pregnancy,
string
Friday, July 4, 2008
Let's get this started
Let me briefly (ha ha) introduce myself.
I'm KJ. I'm 32 years old. I have lived in a few different cities before returning to the Northeastern U.S. area where I grew up. I had been married a few years, we had bought our first home, and were probably a few months from trying to get pregnant. Instead, my late husband developed a rare and super-aggressive cancer. He lived almost a year before the cancer took him from me. Thus, I was widowed at 28. Other than the loss of my LH himself, the loss of our planned-for and much-wanted family was by orders of magnitude the second-most-painful part of the whole widowhood thing.
Incredibly, though, I was lucky enough to meet L only a little over a year after losing my LH (and after several mistakes related to "men" - quotations needed - dating too soon after being widowed is rarely a good idea). Although it was a bit tough in the first few months given all I was still dealing with, we fell in love, and then got married last summer.
Now, we are moving onto that next part of things... trying to get pregnant. However, I had my diagnosis of PCOS confirmed a few weeks ago, which is kind of a problem. Yeah, I would say not ovulating since right after I went off the pill 6 1/2 months ago is a problem. At least it seems my husband's part of things is all good, fortunately. It's just me who has "issues" in trying to get me knocked up.
Anyway, I hope that this blog proves helpful for me to work out all my swirling feelings, that maybe it winds up helping some other people also, or at least is somewhat amusing.
Thanks for indulging me.
I'm KJ. I'm 32 years old. I have lived in a few different cities before returning to the Northeastern U.S. area where I grew up. I had been married a few years, we had bought our first home, and were probably a few months from trying to get pregnant. Instead, my late husband developed a rare and super-aggressive cancer. He lived almost a year before the cancer took him from me. Thus, I was widowed at 28. Other than the loss of my LH himself, the loss of our planned-for and much-wanted family was by orders of magnitude the second-most-painful part of the whole widowhood thing.
Incredibly, though, I was lucky enough to meet L only a little over a year after losing my LH (and after several mistakes related to "men" - quotations needed - dating too soon after being widowed is rarely a good idea). Although it was a bit tough in the first few months given all I was still dealing with, we fell in love, and then got married last summer.
Now, we are moving onto that next part of things... trying to get pregnant. However, I had my diagnosis of PCOS confirmed a few weeks ago, which is kind of a problem. Yeah, I would say not ovulating since right after I went off the pill 6 1/2 months ago is a problem. At least it seems my husband's part of things is all good, fortunately. It's just me who has "issues" in trying to get me knocked up.
Anyway, I hope that this blog proves helpful for me to work out all my swirling feelings, that maybe it winds up helping some other people also, or at least is somewhat amusing.
Thanks for indulging me.
Labels:
infertility,
introduction,
PCOS,
remarriage,
widowhood
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