TEXTAREA_ID
For this weeks Friday Follow I would love it if everyone headed over "Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed".
The woman who write this blog is just amazing. For her What IF project she did the most powerful video I have ever seen on the subject of infertility. The thing about her video that got to me the most was her asking "what if my story helps millions?"
That is why I write this blog.
To help. To reach out and connect with others going through the same things or even people who are just curious and want to learn more about it.
Long story short, Keiko is going to be around for awhile, and I would like to thank you for all the wonderful work she is doing. The blogging world, and the world in general, would be a more hollow place without her.
Recent Posts
Friday, April 30, 2010
Friday Follow #2 AKA 100th post!
Thursday, April 29, 2010
To "Stop Trying"
I have been thinking lots about all the ways that Dan and I tried to have a child. All the ways and times we tried to conceive our child biologically. Then came the hyst. Yes, I asked for it, and yes, we both looked forward to it. But I have just recently begun to see it for another thing that it was. It was not just a radical treatment for the Endometriosis, it was not just another diagnosis, the Adenomyosis. In a way it was the point that ever couple on this journey must somehow reach. It was our decision to stop. To stop trying. To end fertility treatments. To officially look for another way.
I am by no means saying that we tried everything we could have. Money and pain were the biggest things stopping us from continuing the journey. If I hadn't been in so much pain all the time, we would have saved the money and tried an IVF cycle or another IUI or SOMETHING. But I couldn't do anymore. WE couldn't do it anymore. I was literally living on Percocet, while on the couch feeling sorry for myself. There just was nothing else to do.
I know there are women out there that have tried these treatments numerous times without results. I am by no means saying that my choice was any harder or easier than theirs. It was just different. It came to us in a different way, in a different form. The mindset that all of us infertile people are the same is something that has been explored before on other blogs, and I must say that lumping us all together into one big basket with the black I pasted on the side is just as unfair as looking at a group of people with AIDS or cancer and saying that they are all the same, and have been on the same journey, and reach their choices the same way. We are all unique, and we are all on relatively the same journey, but we are individuals. One of the things that we all have in common though is that every couple, no matter if the end comes with a child or a choice to stop, has to reach that point of "enough is enough." Every couple has to stop at some point. Sometimes it is chosen by the couple, in a situation where they feel they have tried everything they can do. And sometimes it comes in the form of a medical condition, like with us, where I needed the hysterectomy to survive.
I am not saying that keeping my uterus and ovaries would have literally killed me. I could have lived with them still inside me. I could have continued to breathe while sitting on that couch or lying in bed for the rest of my life; but how would that have been any different from someone leaving me in a coma with no function for the rest of my life? I see it the same. So I had to have it. I had to lose those things to find me again. But it was also our choice to stop trying. It was also that point that everyone on this journey eventually reaches...that point when they are done.
It's an odd feeling. I am no longer TTC. We are no longer trying. I no longer have a use for the very expensive ovulation predictor or pregnancy tests or even the big bottle of folic acid (other than the obvious staying healthy on this new journey).
In a way I feel robbed. I didn't get to sit down with my husband and have that long talk about what to do next. I did get to sit down with him and talk about how we were going to deal with the loss of my organs, but I didn't really get the choice of "stop and pursue adoption or continue trying." That important choice was made for me, made by my stupid body that never really worked the way it was supposed to work.
I don't regret the hyst. Well, I don't regret it right now! I go through regret times and happy times, and I think thats normal. I think that if I didn't think about my loss AND think about my gains in equal form right now, this soon after, I would either be crazy or on drugs, and I am pretty sure I am neither.
Mostly I just want to let everyone out there know, in case it isn't obvious.
Dan and I are no longer trying to get pregnant. We are exploring other options. I will never be pregnant.
(BIG duh....but I still strangely feel the need to have that moment that others get. That moment where they share their choice to stop with the world.)
I am by no means saying that we tried everything we could have. Money and pain were the biggest things stopping us from continuing the journey. If I hadn't been in so much pain all the time, we would have saved the money and tried an IVF cycle or another IUI or SOMETHING. But I couldn't do anymore. WE couldn't do it anymore. I was literally living on Percocet, while on the couch feeling sorry for myself. There just was nothing else to do.
I know there are women out there that have tried these treatments numerous times without results. I am by no means saying that my choice was any harder or easier than theirs. It was just different. It came to us in a different way, in a different form. The mindset that all of us infertile people are the same is something that has been explored before on other blogs, and I must say that lumping us all together into one big basket with the black I pasted on the side is just as unfair as looking at a group of people with AIDS or cancer and saying that they are all the same, and have been on the same journey, and reach their choices the same way. We are all unique, and we are all on relatively the same journey, but we are individuals. One of the things that we all have in common though is that every couple, no matter if the end comes with a child or a choice to stop, has to reach that point of "enough is enough." Every couple has to stop at some point. Sometimes it is chosen by the couple, in a situation where they feel they have tried everything they can do. And sometimes it comes in the form of a medical condition, like with us, where I needed the hysterectomy to survive.
I am not saying that keeping my uterus and ovaries would have literally killed me. I could have lived with them still inside me. I could have continued to breathe while sitting on that couch or lying in bed for the rest of my life; but how would that have been any different from someone leaving me in a coma with no function for the rest of my life? I see it the same. So I had to have it. I had to lose those things to find me again. But it was also our choice to stop trying. It was also that point that everyone on this journey eventually reaches...that point when they are done.
It's an odd feeling. I am no longer TTC. We are no longer trying. I no longer have a use for the very expensive ovulation predictor or pregnancy tests or even the big bottle of folic acid (other than the obvious staying healthy on this new journey).
In a way I feel robbed. I didn't get to sit down with my husband and have that long talk about what to do next. I did get to sit down with him and talk about how we were going to deal with the loss of my organs, but I didn't really get the choice of "stop and pursue adoption or continue trying." That important choice was made for me, made by my stupid body that never really worked the way it was supposed to work.
I don't regret the hyst. Well, I don't regret it right now! I go through regret times and happy times, and I think thats normal. I think that if I didn't think about my loss AND think about my gains in equal form right now, this soon after, I would either be crazy or on drugs, and I am pretty sure I am neither.
Mostly I just want to let everyone out there know, in case it isn't obvious.
Dan and I are no longer trying to get pregnant. We are exploring other options. I will never be pregnant.
(BIG duh....but I still strangely feel the need to have that moment that others get. That moment where they share their choice to stop with the world.)
“Although we've come to the end of the road, still I can't let you go, it's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you .”
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
So I was just writing....
Ok, so I know mothers day isn't for a few weeks and I know its crazy, but I was sitting here and just started writing and this is what came out. Don't ask me why. Maybe too many mothers day ads on FB or something. Who knows. But I am going to save it and send/give it to her one day.
Dear Mother of my Child,
I don’t know your name. I don’t know where you are from or how you grew up. I don’t know your dreams, your thoughts, your religious views, or your political stance. Maybe one day I will know these things…even shake your hand and look into your eyes. Maybe you will always be a mystery. What I do know is that I love you. I love you for your choice, and I love you for your strength. You carry inside you something so precious, something so fantastically miraculous, that I was not able to do it. I am in awe of you. I am in awe of your body, and your ability to do what I was not able to. I am in awe of your decision to give the child inside you life…even if that means a life without you.
As I write this you may not even be carrying our baby yet. You might not even know that you are going to face this choice. For all I know, as I write this, you are sitting in high school science, or out on a date. For all I know you have no idea what one day our paths will forever be crossed. Our hearts will forever be joined in one tiny human being. Our child. You, the mother who gave him life, and me, the mother who will raise him.
I can’t promise that I will be the best mother in the world. I can’t even promise that I will do a better job than you would have done. What I can promise you is that I will love that child as if I had carried him myself. I will put him first, and give him everything within my power to make sure that he is successful in his life. I will teach him to look both ways before crossing the street, but I will also teach him to look both ways before making judgment. I will love him no matter what he decides to do or who he decides to be. I will teach him to make the right choices, and then I will support him even if he makes the wrong ones. I will be an open door and a shoulder to cry on. I will love him no matter his sexual orientation or political views. I will never lie to him. I will never make him feel as though he is not welcome, wanted, and loved.
I will tell him about you. I will tell him about the incredible bravery of the mother who gave him life. I will tell him how much you loved him, and love him still. I will tell him that you didn’t give him up, you only handed him up. Handed him up to a life you couldn’t give him, but that you knew he deserved. I will do everything in my power to make sure he never feels as though he has no “real” mother, but that he is doubly blessed, because he has two. I will do my best to make sure that he wasn’t un-wanted, but all the more loved. You, my child’s other mother, will always be in our home and in our hearts. You are a member of this family. As much as this sweet child is.
And so with this mothers day approaching, the first since disease robbed me of the ability you have, I want to say thank you. Thank you for the choice you will one day make. Thank you for loving our child. Thank you for choosing his life and happiness over your own. I promise that I will always do the same. So on this day, the one that will forever be harder on you than this one is to me, I want to say Happy Mothers Day to my child’s other mother.
Dear Mother of my Child,
I don’t know your name. I don’t know where you are from or how you grew up. I don’t know your dreams, your thoughts, your religious views, or your political stance. Maybe one day I will know these things…even shake your hand and look into your eyes. Maybe you will always be a mystery. What I do know is that I love you. I love you for your choice, and I love you for your strength. You carry inside you something so precious, something so fantastically miraculous, that I was not able to do it. I am in awe of you. I am in awe of your body, and your ability to do what I was not able to. I am in awe of your decision to give the child inside you life…even if that means a life without you.
As I write this you may not even be carrying our baby yet. You might not even know that you are going to face this choice. For all I know, as I write this, you are sitting in high school science, or out on a date. For all I know you have no idea what one day our paths will forever be crossed. Our hearts will forever be joined in one tiny human being. Our child. You, the mother who gave him life, and me, the mother who will raise him.
I can’t promise that I will be the best mother in the world. I can’t even promise that I will do a better job than you would have done. What I can promise you is that I will love that child as if I had carried him myself. I will put him first, and give him everything within my power to make sure that he is successful in his life. I will teach him to look both ways before crossing the street, but I will also teach him to look both ways before making judgment. I will love him no matter what he decides to do or who he decides to be. I will teach him to make the right choices, and then I will support him even if he makes the wrong ones. I will be an open door and a shoulder to cry on. I will love him no matter his sexual orientation or political views. I will never lie to him. I will never make him feel as though he is not welcome, wanted, and loved.
I will tell him about you. I will tell him about the incredible bravery of the mother who gave him life. I will tell him how much you loved him, and love him still. I will tell him that you didn’t give him up, you only handed him up. Handed him up to a life you couldn’t give him, but that you knew he deserved. I will do everything in my power to make sure he never feels as though he has no “real” mother, but that he is doubly blessed, because he has two. I will do my best to make sure that he wasn’t un-wanted, but all the more loved. You, my child’s other mother, will always be in our home and in our hearts. You are a member of this family. As much as this sweet child is.
And so with this mothers day approaching, the first since disease robbed me of the ability you have, I want to say thank you. Thank you for the choice you will one day make. Thank you for loving our child. Thank you for choosing his life and happiness over your own. I promise that I will always do the same. So on this day, the one that will forever be harder on you than this one is to me, I want to say Happy Mothers Day to my child’s other mother.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
One Month Down
One month down. One month ago was my hysterectomy. In some ways it doesn't seem like it has been that long, and in other ways it feels like it has been years. Either way, this past month of recovery and thinking and stopping myself from going for a run or making love with my husband or doing too much housework has made me think about so many things. I could list them all here one by one, but honestly I just don't have the energy to get into tall of it right now. Instead, I will just say I am sorry for not posting lately, my internet has been out; and say that all of my readers mean so much to me...I don't know what I would do without any of you.
I will post more later....
I just don't have the energy right now.
I will post more later....
I just don't have the energy right now.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Friday Follow #1
My first Friday Follow is to send all of you lovely people who haven't been there already to check out my friend Sonjas blog.
You know I have been sitting here thinking about it and I am not horribly sure how I actually met her! I know we talking some in the groups on Facebook about endo, but who knows if that is actually where it started. Either way, she is now like my very best friend and I don't know what I would do without her.
She is actually the one who started me blogging. She thought it would be good for me to put my thoughts out there and to maybe even help someone else going through the same thing at the same time. She really is amazing like that.
Her blog mostly follows her feelings dealing with her hysterectomy. Well, that and her sweet kitteh girl Alex. She is the best kitty mommy and the best friend and has one of the best blogs out there...so if you aren't already following...get on over to The Mud and The Lotus for not only a good read about the struggles we go through...but also a laugh here and there.
ps-love ya girlie!
You know I have been sitting here thinking about it and I am not horribly sure how I actually met her! I know we talking some in the groups on Facebook about endo, but who knows if that is actually where it started. Either way, she is now like my very best friend and I don't know what I would do without her.
She is actually the one who started me blogging. She thought it would be good for me to put my thoughts out there and to maybe even help someone else going through the same thing at the same time. She really is amazing like that.
Her blog mostly follows her feelings dealing with her hysterectomy. Well, that and her sweet kitteh girl Alex. She is the best kitty mommy and the best friend and has one of the best blogs out there...so if you aren't already following...get on over to The Mud and The Lotus for not only a good read about the struggles we go through...but also a laugh here and there.
ps-love ya girlie!
"It is not so much our friends' help that helps us as the confident knowledge that they will help us."
~Epicurus (341 - 270 BC) Greek philosopher
Thursday, April 22, 2010
What If....
I am a different person now because of infertility?
What if the person that I was is gone? I was a kick-ass, get-it-done, nothing-can-stop-me, take-no-shit, pull-no-punches, pink-wearing, faux-hawk-wearing, pretty all-around awesome chick. Who I am now? This person who thought nothing could beat her, is getting beaten. This thing is beating me down, and it HAS changed me. There is no "what if" anymore. It just is. My "what if" happened.
To just give you a run-down of everything I have given infertility, I think I shall use the cool list feature I just learned how to use. I give you.....
THE LIST
But I was wrong.
It didn't make me normal it made me even more different. It made me this person I am now. And I am not sure who she is. In all reality is pisses me off. It pisses me off that I am different now, that I have somehow lost who I am. So that is my "what if" now. What if I am a different person? A person who has no faith and thinks about living child-free sometimes. A person who still can't go to the baby aisle in the store, because I still feel like something has been stolen from me. A person, who despite all the people in her life that tell her differently, still feels as though there was something more she could have done to make her dreams come true. This might be me.
But what if that is ok? What if its ok that I never really get over it and I still think about it years later and I still feel like I was robbed? What if that makes me the kind of person who doesn't take things for granted...a person who sees all the blessings in her life...because the blessings in her pre-hyst life weren't ever really seen? What if the person I am now is the person I was always meant to be? A person who sees life...and loves what there is to be loved out of it. That's more than I had before. Loving what there is to love. Before I wasn't able to love anything but the thing I didn't have.
So maybe its not the end of the world after all. Maybe, just maybe, I will live. I will be ok. And maybe I will be a different Sara. One who still kicks ass...but also sees that there is true suffering in the world. Because I have been there. So maybe thats the real reason why.
And maybe its ok.
What if the person that I was is gone? I was a kick-ass, get-it-done, nothing-can-stop-me, take-no-shit, pull-no-punches, pink-wearing, faux-hawk-wearing, pretty all-around awesome chick. Who I am now? This person who thought nothing could beat her, is getting beaten. This thing is beating me down, and it HAS changed me. There is no "what if" anymore. It just is. My "what if" happened.
To just give you a run-down of everything I have given infertility, I think I shall use the cool list feature I just learned how to use. I give you.....
THE LIST
- 8 years
- 87 pregnancy test. Yes, that is the correct number. All negative
- Three surgeries
- 1 ovulation predictor
- 27 ovulation test strips
- 2 marriages
- My hair-While treating the Endometriosis with Lupron
- My body-losing and gaining weight due to illness
- Countless depressing poems
- My nails-I chew them when I am stressed
- 13 doctors
- $54,000.00 (at last count)
- Two ovaries
- One cervix
- One uterus
But I was wrong.
It didn't make me normal it made me even more different. It made me this person I am now. And I am not sure who she is. In all reality is pisses me off. It pisses me off that I am different now, that I have somehow lost who I am. So that is my "what if" now. What if I am a different person? A person who has no faith and thinks about living child-free sometimes. A person who still can't go to the baby aisle in the store, because I still feel like something has been stolen from me. A person, who despite all the people in her life that tell her differently, still feels as though there was something more she could have done to make her dreams come true. This might be me.
But what if that is ok? What if its ok that I never really get over it and I still think about it years later and I still feel like I was robbed? What if that makes me the kind of person who doesn't take things for granted...a person who sees all the blessings in her life...because the blessings in her pre-hyst life weren't ever really seen? What if the person I am now is the person I was always meant to be? A person who sees life...and loves what there is to be loved out of it. That's more than I had before. Loving what there is to love. Before I wasn't able to love anything but the thing I didn't have.
So maybe its not the end of the world after all. Maybe, just maybe, I will live. I will be ok. And maybe I will be a different Sara. One who still kicks ass...but also sees that there is true suffering in the world. Because I have been there. So maybe thats the real reason why.
And maybe its ok.
For more information on infertility.....
www.resolve.org/infertility101
National Infertility Awareness Week....
www.resolve.org/takecharge
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Oh Hey, I am Not Crazy
So all the problems I have been having with my husband? All those problems I have been beating myself up about because I thought it all went back to the stupid hyst and lack of hormones and its all my my my my my fault?
It was him
He hasn't taken his anti-depressant in a WEEK.
So apparently I can say things right and I did say some things and I am not imagining his temper and him staring off and everything. I wouldn't even be so pissed......
Except he didn't tell me.
I had to find this out by looking on the shelf and seeing that his pills were gone. I had to find this out by Sonja asking me, "is he taking his meds?" because I have spent the last week on the phone/online with her going "omg what do I do I think this hyst is ruining my marriage?"
So turns out its not me. I should be happy, but I am not. I am more worried about the fact that he kept something from me, that he lied to me, and that his excuse for doing these things was "I was afraid you would get mad."
Oh yeah, this is much better. He let me think for over a week that I was losing it. He let me believe that I was to blame for the cracks in our marriage and that it was my problem to fix, instead of ours.
I am just in shock.
I don't know what to do at this point, but first thing is first...he is on his meds again TOMORROW.
I guess we will see from there.
It was him
He hasn't taken his anti-depressant in a WEEK.
So apparently I can say things right and I did say some things and I am not imagining his temper and him staring off and everything. I wouldn't even be so pissed......
Except he didn't tell me.
I had to find this out by looking on the shelf and seeing that his pills were gone. I had to find this out by Sonja asking me, "is he taking his meds?" because I have spent the last week on the phone/online with her going "omg what do I do I think this hyst is ruining my marriage?"
So turns out its not me. I should be happy, but I am not. I am more worried about the fact that he kept something from me, that he lied to me, and that his excuse for doing these things was "I was afraid you would get mad."
Oh yeah, this is much better. He let me think for over a week that I was losing it. He let me believe that I was to blame for the cracks in our marriage and that it was my problem to fix, instead of ours.
I am just in shock.
I don't know what to do at this point, but first thing is first...he is on his meds again TOMORROW.
I guess we will see from there.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Wordless Wednesday #1
"My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet."
~Edith Wharton
Monday, April 19, 2010
Me...Post Hyst
When I first started this blog my very first post ever was an intro to me. That was nearly 100 posts and two years ago. For those of you who have been around since the beginning, you know that I am a different person now. I mean I am still Sara Jean. I still prefer to be called Sara by anyone who isn't my husband or very close to me. I still love pink, and keep my toenails in a constant state of pinkness (assuming I am not having surgery in the next few hours). I still love my Sassy dog and my Bandit butt, and I would still take in any animal in need as long as I could. Fundamentally, I am still me. But I am not. I am different. I am a different person, and I have been meaning to explore exactly what that means, and so since I am awake in the middle of the night, yet again, I figured why not now?
For years, with two husbands and countless doctors, my life revolved around getting pregnant. Time was counted with periods and fertility treatments. Moods were described in pain levels and not actual moods. Dreams revolves around that little plus sign on a piece of plastic that would change our lives forever. Even though I was in pain, I was hopeful, and faithful, and I KNEW that it was going to happen. I knew that I would get pregnant.
Everyone kept telling me that my time was coming. I remember calling my mom after a negative test and she kept telling me that my time was coming and I just has to be patient, because she knew that I was going to get pregnant soon. People would remind me that there was always a chance, always that little percentage of hope that would get me pregnant. My world was that little number. My world was that hope.
And now it never will. It will never happen. I am never going to get pregnant. There will be no more pluses or minuses on pieces of plastic, no more temperature taking, no more pills and sperm counts and wondering and worrying. No more of that.
And no more pain (I hope).
Was it worth it? I thought I was SO ready for this, but this person the surgery left behind? This isn't me. I don't know this barren women whose whole world of hope and faith is just...gone. What do I look forward to now? School? Adoption? Vacations? They somehow just seem....less. Less than that hope, less than that dream.
So this is me now. I get up and write and read and go for walks. Despite my slight depression over everything lately I am very much looking forward to starting the adoption process next month. I still keep my toes pink...but none of the polish seems as bright anymore. I still watch what I eat, but not because I might be pregnant. Thats the real killer. Before this...there was always that chance...that possibility, that I was carrying a little piece of me. Never again.
So I will paint, go to school, read, maybe even get another hobby. Anything to get me over this hump. Something has to be able to do that.
Right?
For years, with two husbands and countless doctors, my life revolved around getting pregnant. Time was counted with periods and fertility treatments. Moods were described in pain levels and not actual moods. Dreams revolves around that little plus sign on a piece of plastic that would change our lives forever. Even though I was in pain, I was hopeful, and faithful, and I KNEW that it was going to happen. I knew that I would get pregnant.
Everyone kept telling me that my time was coming. I remember calling my mom after a negative test and she kept telling me that my time was coming and I just has to be patient, because she knew that I was going to get pregnant soon. People would remind me that there was always a chance, always that little percentage of hope that would get me pregnant. My world was that little number. My world was that hope.
And now it never will. It will never happen. I am never going to get pregnant. There will be no more pluses or minuses on pieces of plastic, no more temperature taking, no more pills and sperm counts and wondering and worrying. No more of that.
And no more pain (I hope).
Was it worth it? I thought I was SO ready for this, but this person the surgery left behind? This isn't me. I don't know this barren women whose whole world of hope and faith is just...gone. What do I look forward to now? School? Adoption? Vacations? They somehow just seem....less. Less than that hope, less than that dream.
So this is me now. I get up and write and read and go for walks. Despite my slight depression over everything lately I am very much looking forward to starting the adoption process next month. I still keep my toes pink...but none of the polish seems as bright anymore. I still watch what I eat, but not because I might be pregnant. Thats the real killer. Before this...there was always that chance...that possibility, that I was carrying a little piece of me. Never again.
So I will paint, go to school, read, maybe even get another hobby. Anything to get me over this hump. Something has to be able to do that.
Right?
"Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else."
Is it hot flashes or heartache?
Last night was ANOTHER one of those nights that I couldn't sleep.
Who knows why.
Is it the hot flashes that I can't seem to stop having? Or is it the constant heartache about everything?
I wake up in the middle of the night hot, sweating, and crying.
So who knows?
Who knows why.
Is it the hot flashes that I can't seem to stop having? Or is it the constant heartache about everything?
I wake up in the middle of the night hot, sweating, and crying.
So who knows?
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Reminders
I read a blog today but a wonderful person, SIF, where she talks about a relationship she has witnessed with her "little sister" and that family. She warns at the beginning of the post that she is taking something that SO isn't about her and making it into something about her.
But the thing is, when you are going through infertility, everything can be connected to it. Maybe because the world surrounds us with mothers and fathers and happy families that only remind us that those people aren't us.
I know that people probably look at us as selfish, or attention seeking. Us beautiful, strong, fighting women...who are only fighting for what we were denied when our bodies failed us. I have been unfortunate enough to live around, and even with sometimes, people who don't seem to understand why everything connects back to this loss, and why we can't "just get over it."
The thing that no one seems to understand with the whole getting over it thing, is that we have had a loss. A real, true, in your face no going away any time soon loss. And it is just as real to us as if we had gotten a call from a hospital in the middle of the night that someone we loved had passed. The diagnosis of "infertile," however it comes and whatever comes with it, is just as life changing and significant as any other loss. And people need to realize this.
And everything does remind us of it. Most times its seeing some other family go through some crisis or change or something, and wondering if we will ever get to have that. Other times its seeing people who see their children as some sort of burden, some sort of annoyance that wants breakfast while they want to sleep in on Saturday mornings. All these things remind us that the world isn't fair and our bodies don't work the way they are supposed to...that we have been denied those "annoyances" that other people far less deserving have been given.
Everything reminds me that I am barren. Even if I spend the entire day inside and don't watch any TV or listen to music that you would think would remind a person of children in any way, I am still reminded. I am reminded when I cook dinner and its just for two people. I am reminded of it when I look at my husband, and I know that even if we are lucky enough to one day have a family through the miracle of adoption, I will never see his sweet eyes look back at me through my child. I am reminded of it when I look at my paintings on the wall and even though I didn't mean to put it there, there is always some little piece of my lost somewhere in all those oils. Hidden, but there just the same. Because I can't do ANYTHING without that loss being there. Its there, it is always going to be there...and like it or not, I am going to be reminded of it through little things that catch me off guard for the rest of my life. One of these days maybe I will wake up and the hyst and my kids and all those things that I really don't want to think about won't be the FIRST thing that I think about. But its not now. And even if I get to that day in once piece, which seems such an impossibility right now, I know that there will never be a day that I won't be reminded of my loss...and I have a right to feel it. I have a right to be pissed. And anyone who says otherwise can wonder this....lose a child, then come tell me it shouldn't hurt. My memory is my own, even if its just memories of a child in a dream...and its my own to treasure if I chose.
But the thing is, when you are going through infertility, everything can be connected to it. Maybe because the world surrounds us with mothers and fathers and happy families that only remind us that those people aren't us.
I know that people probably look at us as selfish, or attention seeking. Us beautiful, strong, fighting women...who are only fighting for what we were denied when our bodies failed us. I have been unfortunate enough to live around, and even with sometimes, people who don't seem to understand why everything connects back to this loss, and why we can't "just get over it."
The thing that no one seems to understand with the whole getting over it thing, is that we have had a loss. A real, true, in your face no going away any time soon loss. And it is just as real to us as if we had gotten a call from a hospital in the middle of the night that someone we loved had passed. The diagnosis of "infertile," however it comes and whatever comes with it, is just as life changing and significant as any other loss. And people need to realize this.
And everything does remind us of it. Most times its seeing some other family go through some crisis or change or something, and wondering if we will ever get to have that. Other times its seeing people who see their children as some sort of burden, some sort of annoyance that wants breakfast while they want to sleep in on Saturday mornings. All these things remind us that the world isn't fair and our bodies don't work the way they are supposed to...that we have been denied those "annoyances" that other people far less deserving have been given.
Everything reminds me that I am barren. Even if I spend the entire day inside and don't watch any TV or listen to music that you would think would remind a person of children in any way, I am still reminded. I am reminded when I cook dinner and its just for two people. I am reminded of it when I look at my husband, and I know that even if we are lucky enough to one day have a family through the miracle of adoption, I will never see his sweet eyes look back at me through my child. I am reminded of it when I look at my paintings on the wall and even though I didn't mean to put it there, there is always some little piece of my lost somewhere in all those oils. Hidden, but there just the same. Because I can't do ANYTHING without that loss being there. Its there, it is always going to be there...and like it or not, I am going to be reminded of it through little things that catch me off guard for the rest of my life. One of these days maybe I will wake up and the hyst and my kids and all those things that I really don't want to think about won't be the FIRST thing that I think about. But its not now. And even if I get to that day in once piece, which seems such an impossibility right now, I know that there will never be a day that I won't be reminded of my loss...and I have a right to feel it. I have a right to be pissed. And anyone who says otherwise can wonder this....lose a child, then come tell me it shouldn't hurt. My memory is my own, even if its just memories of a child in a dream...and its my own to treasure if I chose.
When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.
~Author Unknown
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Marriage and Menopause
There is a reason that for years and years people have gotten married at a young age, had babies, and THEN gone through menopause.
Its because a young marriage is not meant to deal with this shit.
Dan and I have been married for a little over two years now, and even though I KNOW I love and and I KNOW he loves me, this thing is breaking us.
We can't talk without fighting. I must look deep in thought all the time because he keeps asking me what I am thinking and when I tell him it never fails that we end up in some sort of argument. Like tonight. I went to bed, it woke him up (which I didn't MEAN to do, but if he would keep the goddamn covers straight I wouldn't have to fix them) and as I was laying there he asked me what I was thinking. Then, of course, like an idiot, I told him. I told him that the events of the past few days have made me wonder if I gave up motherhood period what I gave up biological children.
Bad idea.
Why does he ask if he doesn't want to know? Why push me to share my feelings if you aren't going to be open and actually HEAR them, rather than get on the defensive? Then I made another boo boo. I told him I thought we should go to therapy together.
"Why pay to have a crap on Dan session when we can do that here for free?"
Um.
What?
Is that what I said? Did I say that I wanted to go pay someone to listen to me bitch about you so that they can bitch about you and you can just feel back about yourself?
No.
I asked you to come to therapy with me because we are obviously NOT doing well and the way the losses in my life are going I really can't afford to lose my husband on top of everything else. I asked you to come work this out with me and stand by me and hold my hand while I cry, because believe it or not I know that most of the problem right now stems from this damn surgery and my inability to handle it and I need some help here and God bless you for trying but I just don't think you alone are able to help me the way I need. (this is not word for word obviously I am paraphrasing...but that is basically what I said)
His response?
Snoring.
Thats right folks...the man asked me to share and after making me feel like crap for doing so he just went right back to sleep as I was spilling my stupid guts and bawling like a baby.
So I called him on it.
So long story short I am now awake when I don't want to be cause I can't sleep on the couch and I won't sleep with him and I can't ask him to come sleep out here because then I get to hear about how "you don't even want to share a bed with me why don't you just leave me" for the next three days. And frankly? I don't have the time or the energy to hear it right now.
So I send this question out there into the world tonight. How does a marriage survive something after two years that its not supposed to see for 30?
Its because a young marriage is not meant to deal with this shit.
Dan and I have been married for a little over two years now, and even though I KNOW I love and and I KNOW he loves me, this thing is breaking us.
We can't talk without fighting. I must look deep in thought all the time because he keeps asking me what I am thinking and when I tell him it never fails that we end up in some sort of argument. Like tonight. I went to bed, it woke him up (which I didn't MEAN to do, but if he would keep the goddamn covers straight I wouldn't have to fix them) and as I was laying there he asked me what I was thinking. Then, of course, like an idiot, I told him. I told him that the events of the past few days have made me wonder if I gave up motherhood period what I gave up biological children.
Bad idea.
Why does he ask if he doesn't want to know? Why push me to share my feelings if you aren't going to be open and actually HEAR them, rather than get on the defensive? Then I made another boo boo. I told him I thought we should go to therapy together.
"Why pay to have a crap on Dan session when we can do that here for free?"
Um.
What?
Is that what I said? Did I say that I wanted to go pay someone to listen to me bitch about you so that they can bitch about you and you can just feel back about yourself?
No.
I asked you to come to therapy with me because we are obviously NOT doing well and the way the losses in my life are going I really can't afford to lose my husband on top of everything else. I asked you to come work this out with me and stand by me and hold my hand while I cry, because believe it or not I know that most of the problem right now stems from this damn surgery and my inability to handle it and I need some help here and God bless you for trying but I just don't think you alone are able to help me the way I need. (this is not word for word obviously I am paraphrasing...but that is basically what I said)
His response?
Snoring.
Thats right folks...the man asked me to share and after making me feel like crap for doing so he just went right back to sleep as I was spilling my stupid guts and bawling like a baby.
So I called him on it.
So long story short I am now awake when I don't want to be cause I can't sleep on the couch and I won't sleep with him and I can't ask him to come sleep out here because then I get to hear about how "you don't even want to share a bed with me why don't you just leave me" for the next three days. And frankly? I don't have the time or the energy to hear it right now.
So I send this question out there into the world tonight. How does a marriage survive something after two years that its not supposed to see for 30?
"For two people in a marriage to live together day after day is unquestionably the one miracle the Vatican has overlooked."
~Bill Cosby
Saturday Songs #1
"The Kill (Bury Me)"
Written by Jared Leto (um, hot much?)
Performed by 30 Seconds to Mars
Album-Beautiful Lie
What if I wanted to break
Laugh it all off in your face
What would you do?
What if I fell to the floor
Couldn't take all this anymore
What would you do, do, do?
Come break me down
Marry me, bury me
I am finished with you
What if I wanted to fight
Beg for the rest of my life
What would you do?
You say you wanted more
What are you waiting for?
I'm not running from you
Come break me down
Marry me, bury me
I am finished with you
Look in my eyes
You're killing me, killing me
All I wanted was you
I tried to be someone else
But nothing seemed to change
I know now, this is who I really am inside
Finally found myself
Fighting for a chance
I know now, this is who I really am
Come break me down
Marry me, bury me
I am finished with you, you, you
Look in my eyes
You're killing me, killing me
All I wanted was you
Come, break me down
Break me down
Break me down
What if I wanted to break?
What if I, what if I, what if I
Bury me, bury me
If you watch the music video to this song without actually understanding or listening to the lyrics, one might be slightly confused. Although I will say that being confused while looking at Jared Leto is better than just being confused in general! Everyone is looking at a copy of themselves. Twins were used for most of the shots, but the members of the band were obviously made double by lots of film-making tricks that I wouldn't begin to be able to tell you about. Either way, the most moving part of the thing for me is when Jared screams at himself "this is who I really am."
In an interview once, he said
This song as always had meaning to me. Whenever I hear it I see myself looking at the pre-hyst/IF/endo/PCOS/adeno me and screaming at her...this is me. This is YOU. There is no escaping it and there is no hiding from it. Get used to it. Bury me in it...still not going away. It sucks and it blows but really, what are you going to do about it?
Then there's the pre/all that crap me looking at me now...screaming...you're killing me. Killing my dreams, killing my kids...killing everything about me I know to be true.
So who is left at the end? Is it her? The Sara who thought anything was possible and still believed in miracles?
Or is it me? The Sara who wants to believe but can't...because this thing inside me killed me. Killed my dreams...killed what I wanted.
Who knows?
Written by Jared Leto (um, hot much?)
Performed by 30 Seconds to Mars
Album-Beautiful Lie
What if I wanted to break
Laugh it all off in your face
What would you do?
What if I fell to the floor
Couldn't take all this anymore
What would you do, do, do?
Come break me down
Marry me, bury me
I am finished with you
What if I wanted to fight
Beg for the rest of my life
What would you do?
You say you wanted more
What are you waiting for?
I'm not running from you
Come break me down
Marry me, bury me
I am finished with you
Look in my eyes
You're killing me, killing me
All I wanted was you
I tried to be someone else
But nothing seemed to change
I know now, this is who I really am inside
Finally found myself
Fighting for a chance
I know now, this is who I really am
Come break me down
Marry me, bury me
I am finished with you, you, you
Look in my eyes
You're killing me, killing me
All I wanted was you
Come, break me down
Break me down
Break me down
What if I wanted to break?
What if I, what if I, what if I
Bury me, bury me
If you watch the music video to this song without actually understanding or listening to the lyrics, one might be slightly confused. Although I will say that being confused while looking at Jared Leto is better than just being confused in general! Everyone is looking at a copy of themselves. Twins were used for most of the shots, but the members of the band were obviously made double by lots of film-making tricks that I wouldn't begin to be able to tell you about. Either way, the most moving part of the thing for me is when Jared screams at himself "this is who I really am."
In an interview once, he said
"It's really about a relationship with yourself. It's about confronting your fear and confronting the truth about who you are."
This song as always had meaning to me. Whenever I hear it I see myself looking at the pre-hyst/IF/endo/PCOS/adeno me and screaming at her...this is me. This is YOU. There is no escaping it and there is no hiding from it. Get used to it. Bury me in it...still not going away. It sucks and it blows but really, what are you going to do about it?
Then there's the pre/all that crap me looking at me now...screaming...you're killing me. Killing my dreams, killing my kids...killing everything about me I know to be true.
So who is left at the end? Is it her? The Sara who thought anything was possible and still believed in miracles?
Or is it me? The Sara who wants to believe but can't...because this thing inside me killed me. Killed my dreams...killed what I wanted.
Who knows?
"This is who I really am."
~Jared Leto
Disclaimer and New Stuff!
So as those of you who are avid readers have probably seen by now, there are some changes going on here! The first is that I have added some ads onto my blog. Nothing huge and nothing that will probably go anywhere, but one never can tell.
The second is that I am now an Amazon Associate. Basically all this means is that if I recommend something, such as a book (in most cases) you will be able to link directly to Amazon and purchase it...and its good for me! I can promise this though, I will never recommend or link to something that I have not read or actually used, and would recommend to a friend in real life. So rest assured, dear readers, I am not out for a quick buck or even a slow one...mostly I just want to see where this can take me.
I am introducing a few series that I will post weekly for you fine people to look forward to. I know that you would never miss a post...but this is just a little something more to look forward to every week. The series, I hope, will be as fun for you to read weekly as I am hoping they will be for me to write. The new series are as follows....
Some Lots Loads Probably most of them of my Sassy and Bandit!
Book Reviews
I read all these books and sometimes I write about them and sometimes I don't, and I thought about it and I think that if a book is good, I should for sure get the word out there about it. I thought about making this a once a week thing, but then I would be obligated to finish a post about a book once a week, and even though I read lots and fast, that really isn't fair to the great authors out there whose books I am rushing through just to get my review up on a certain day. So as I finish the books I will be posting reviews. There will be no particular order and no particular days that I will do this. The book may be one I just finished, or one that I read before and would like to recommend to my friends.
So there you are folks. I came up with all this stuff to get my excited about blogging again, because even though I hate to admit it, I was feeling a little crappy about it. But I am over it now and I am going to try my berry very best to keep up with things this time around.
ps...there is no quote for this post cause I have a headache. Unless you want to count that as quoted by Sara. hehehehehehe
The second is that I am now an Amazon Associate. Basically all this means is that if I recommend something, such as a book (in most cases) you will be able to link directly to Amazon and purchase it...and its good for me! I can promise this though, I will never recommend or link to something that I have not read or actually used, and would recommend to a friend in real life. So rest assured, dear readers, I am not out for a quick buck or even a slow one...mostly I just want to see where this can take me.
I am introducing a few series that I will post weekly for you fine people to look forward to. I know that you would never miss a post...but this is just a little something more to look forward to every week. The series, I hope, will be as fun for you to read weekly as I am hoping they will be for me to write. The new series are as follows....
Saturday SongsAs many of you know, I love my music. I literally have playlists that are called things like "endo sucks" to get my mind of pain or "matter of time" when I feel like my dreams of motherhood are SO far away that I will never actually reach them. I am BIG into lyrics, and even if I can't stand the actual music, I am one to have great respect for any artist who can write good lyrics. Anyway, in these posts on Saturdays, I will post the lyrics of a song that has meaning to me...or even one that I am listening to loads lately just cause it rocks. I'll get into the meaning behind it, what it means to me, and maybe even post an audio file...if I can ever figure out how to do that!
Wordless WednesdaysOk, I am the first one to admit that I am stealing this idea from my good friend Sonja. I am not a photographer by any means, that's something that I usually leave to the very talented Dan. That being said, I love to take pictures and usually they don't ever go anywhere except onto Facebook with some kind of goofy caption. With this series I am hoping to post a picture from the last week, and even though its supposed to be wordless, I want to get into the story/ect. of the picture. So yeah, something to look forward to!
Friday FollowOk, I stole this from Sonja too. I suck at coming up with my own stuff. What can I say? Basically I follow loads of blogs, and I read most of them faithfully. Every Friday I will post about a blog I am following, a little about it, why I like it, and if you are very lucky and things work out the way I am wanting them too...maybe even an interview! 'Nuff said about that one.
Book Reviews
I read all these books and sometimes I write about them and sometimes I don't, and I thought about it and I think that if a book is good, I should for sure get the word out there about it. I thought about making this a once a week thing, but then I would be obligated to finish a post about a book once a week, and even though I read lots and fast, that really isn't fair to the great authors out there whose books I am rushing through just to get my review up on a certain day. So as I finish the books I will be posting reviews. There will be no particular order and no particular days that I will do this. The book may be one I just finished, or one that I read before and would like to recommend to my friends.
"Quote of the Post"I love quotes. So I am going to try to find one in my many quote books that pertain to each post. I have yet to decide if the quote will be at the beginning of each post..kinda an intro to the post...or if they will be at the end...to leave you with something to think about. I suppose it might depend on the post or my mood at the time!
So there you are folks. I came up with all this stuff to get my excited about blogging again, because even though I hate to admit it, I was feeling a little crappy about it. But I am over it now and I am going to try my berry very best to keep up with things this time around.
ps...there is no quote for this post cause I have a headache. Unless you want to count that as quoted by Sara. hehehehehehe
Friday, April 16, 2010
More Than One Loss
When you are getting ready for a hysterectomy, there are these papers you have to sign. Papers, that say in every way possible what you already know before you are reading them...you will never carry a child. You will never give birth. The have you sign these papers in about 800 spots to make sure that you realize what you are getting into before you actually do it, and of course to make sure you don't sue them when you wake up without the parts they went in to remove. They have to assume that every patient is stupid to the fact, and they have to cover their own asses.
What they don't tell you is this. The whole not having kids thing? Just the tip of the iceberg. They don't tell you that even if you wake up without pain and feeling better than you have literally felt in years that you will be different. Everyone always tells you as a woman without a uterus and/or ovaries that you are the same person, but in all reality...in all seriousness, you, along with the world around you, are changed in a way that cannot even be put into words. But for those out there facing the choice, thinking about the choice, or even living in a world after the choice, I am going to try.
For anyone that has lived in pain for a long time there begins a certain routine, a certain dynamic in a family, in a marriage. When I person is sick for a very long time, not only do they get used to being the sick person needing the help, but those around them become used to being the ones providing it. My husband waited on me hand and foot for pretty much our whole marriage up till this point. He cooked me meals and helped me to the tub and shaved my legs. He did all the driving and all the paperwork for bills and all the work. He did everything. And I let him, because there was no other choice for either of us. I was the sick one, and he was the caregiver.
Now I am not the sick one. I don't need help to the tub and I can make my own meals and its finally been long enough without meds that I can get in my car and drive away, alone. Whether or not he is meaning to he is making me feel like I am still sick. He is treating me like a child who can't cut the crusts off her own sandwich and it is driving me insane. No one ever told me, there was no piece of paper to sign, telling me that there would be this shift in my marriage. And it scares me. It scares us. Are we still us like this? Are we still Sara and Dan if Sara is independent and Dan can have parts of his life not revolve around caring for me? Will he still love me when I can work and get a job and FINALLY go back to school? Will I be the same person, uterus or no, when its ME who is able to walk away from a fight and not him? It's like building a marriage all over again, and its hard. We are only two weeks into it and even though I am ashamed to say it, I see no point in not being honest with my readers and I will say that we are falling apart. He sees the surgery as something that had to happen. I see it as something that I allowed to happen. I won't go into more details than that in respect for his privacy, But things have been said in the past couple days that really make me wonder if I didn't sign away my marriage when I signed away my uterus. And it scares me.
When I look in the mirror I look the same, except that something is different in my eyes. I am not the only one who sees it, but I am the only one who knows what it is. The children I will never have had names. They had futures. They had hobbies and blue eyes and quirks and little pieces of Dan and little pieces of me and they were OURS. The were just as real to me as the wind or the rain or the Spring. And they are dead now. Is it wrong that I want to mourn them? Is it wrong that I believe I will see them again one day? Does it make me crazy to write letters and poems to them knowing that they will never actually read them? Am I insane for hating myself a little because one little part of me, deep, deep down, things that I killed my children?
My body betrayed me. You read these stories about adrenaline and people running faster than they should be able to or lifting cars of their wife or any number of impossible feats that were possible because the human body is amazing, and has this primal desire to SURVIVE. These people can do all these things because the body goes into overdrive and does what it has to do in order to survive. And here I am, and I can't even have a child. I never could. I never could give the children in my heart life and I never ever will. I will never give birth to a child. My body was meant to do something, BUILT to do something, and it failed. It failed me. It betrayed me. It was supposed to do something and it didn't. If this was any kind of business I would fire it, because it cannot be counted upon.
There is a difference, I think, in infertile and barren. To me, infertile means that you actually have the parts and something just isn't working right. Barren means you don't have the parts, therefore it is 100% impossible to bear children. I spent years of my life as an infertile woman, and now I am barren. And its a transition. I am physically unable to get pregnant. For the rest of my life. Forever and ever. I will never feel my child kick, I will never feel them enter the world. I will never get to do those things. Because I asked for this. I was selfish and I wanted my life back and I wanted to get off the couch and I wanted to DO something that didn't involve large doses of percocet and constantly buying pads. In a book I read once, and still refer to sometimes, they talk about the "little deaths." (BTW, for those who are interested, my friend Sonja recommended the book and its called "Unsung Lullabies
," totally worth the read if you are struggling with infertility) Before this surgery I would have my period, these little deaths, and even though it hurt like hell that it meant I wasn't pregnant, at least it reminded me that I was whole. I was still able to bleed. I still had that part of me. I never realized how important that was until now. No more little deaths for me...only the big one that will never go away.
There are so many aspects and things to re-learn and learn for the first time that I could never list them all here, at least not in one post. I won't say that I regret my choice, just that there is more to it than anyone ever told me. When I signed those pieces of paper saying I understood what I was asking them to do...I really didn't . I really didn't understand the very long journey this will be..long even not in pain. And I am not cured. There is no cure for Endometriosis, not even cutting everything away. I was reminded of it this week when my Sonja came out of her surgery only to hear that her Endo was back and that she would be taking birth control pills...over a year after her hyst. This was a gamble, and maybe it worked and maybe it didn't. But I guess I did what I had to do. I only wish that that little piece of paper I signed my name to had told me....there is more than one loss in this.
What they don't tell you is this. The whole not having kids thing? Just the tip of the iceberg. They don't tell you that even if you wake up without pain and feeling better than you have literally felt in years that you will be different. Everyone always tells you as a woman without a uterus and/or ovaries that you are the same person, but in all reality...in all seriousness, you, along with the world around you, are changed in a way that cannot even be put into words. But for those out there facing the choice, thinking about the choice, or even living in a world after the choice, I am going to try.
For anyone that has lived in pain for a long time there begins a certain routine, a certain dynamic in a family, in a marriage. When I person is sick for a very long time, not only do they get used to being the sick person needing the help, but those around them become used to being the ones providing it. My husband waited on me hand and foot for pretty much our whole marriage up till this point. He cooked me meals and helped me to the tub and shaved my legs. He did all the driving and all the paperwork for bills and all the work. He did everything. And I let him, because there was no other choice for either of us. I was the sick one, and he was the caregiver.
Now I am not the sick one. I don't need help to the tub and I can make my own meals and its finally been long enough without meds that I can get in my car and drive away, alone. Whether or not he is meaning to he is making me feel like I am still sick. He is treating me like a child who can't cut the crusts off her own sandwich and it is driving me insane. No one ever told me, there was no piece of paper to sign, telling me that there would be this shift in my marriage. And it scares me. It scares us. Are we still us like this? Are we still Sara and Dan if Sara is independent and Dan can have parts of his life not revolve around caring for me? Will he still love me when I can work and get a job and FINALLY go back to school? Will I be the same person, uterus or no, when its ME who is able to walk away from a fight and not him? It's like building a marriage all over again, and its hard. We are only two weeks into it and even though I am ashamed to say it, I see no point in not being honest with my readers and I will say that we are falling apart. He sees the surgery as something that had to happen. I see it as something that I allowed to happen. I won't go into more details than that in respect for his privacy, But things have been said in the past couple days that really make me wonder if I didn't sign away my marriage when I signed away my uterus. And it scares me.
When I look in the mirror I look the same, except that something is different in my eyes. I am not the only one who sees it, but I am the only one who knows what it is. The children I will never have had names. They had futures. They had hobbies and blue eyes and quirks and little pieces of Dan and little pieces of me and they were OURS. The were just as real to me as the wind or the rain or the Spring. And they are dead now. Is it wrong that I want to mourn them? Is it wrong that I believe I will see them again one day? Does it make me crazy to write letters and poems to them knowing that they will never actually read them? Am I insane for hating myself a little because one little part of me, deep, deep down, things that I killed my children?
My body betrayed me. You read these stories about adrenaline and people running faster than they should be able to or lifting cars of their wife or any number of impossible feats that were possible because the human body is amazing, and has this primal desire to SURVIVE. These people can do all these things because the body goes into overdrive and does what it has to do in order to survive. And here I am, and I can't even have a child. I never could. I never could give the children in my heart life and I never ever will. I will never give birth to a child. My body was meant to do something, BUILT to do something, and it failed. It failed me. It betrayed me. It was supposed to do something and it didn't. If this was any kind of business I would fire it, because it cannot be counted upon.
There is a difference, I think, in infertile and barren. To me, infertile means that you actually have the parts and something just isn't working right. Barren means you don't have the parts, therefore it is 100% impossible to bear children. I spent years of my life as an infertile woman, and now I am barren. And its a transition. I am physically unable to get pregnant. For the rest of my life. Forever and ever. I will never feel my child kick, I will never feel them enter the world. I will never get to do those things. Because I asked for this. I was selfish and I wanted my life back and I wanted to get off the couch and I wanted to DO something that didn't involve large doses of percocet and constantly buying pads. In a book I read once, and still refer to sometimes, they talk about the "little deaths." (BTW, for those who are interested, my friend Sonja recommended the book and its called "Unsung Lullabies
," totally worth the read if you are struggling with infertility) Before this surgery I would have my period, these little deaths, and even though it hurt like hell that it meant I wasn't pregnant, at least it reminded me that I was whole. I was still able to bleed. I still had that part of me. I never realized how important that was until now. No more little deaths for me...only the big one that will never go away.There are so many aspects and things to re-learn and learn for the first time that I could never list them all here, at least not in one post. I won't say that I regret my choice, just that there is more to it than anyone ever told me. When I signed those pieces of paper saying I understood what I was asking them to do...I really didn't . I really didn't understand the very long journey this will be..long even not in pain. And I am not cured. There is no cure for Endometriosis, not even cutting everything away. I was reminded of it this week when my Sonja came out of her surgery only to hear that her Endo was back and that she would be taking birth control pills...over a year after her hyst. This was a gamble, and maybe it worked and maybe it didn't. But I guess I did what I had to do. I only wish that that little piece of paper I signed my name to had told me....there is more than one loss in this.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Menopause at 26
I would have never thought that I would be going through this at my age. Well, at least not before 5 or 6 years ago. Since I was 21 or so I pretty much knew it would be much earlier than God intended. In fact for the last year or so I pretty much BEGGED for it.
And here I am. Sixteen days post hyst and menopausal and 26 years old. I NEVER thought that this would be has miserable as it is. Shall we look at all my symptoms one by one?
MOOD SWINGS
You can ask my husband, my dog, or my family who has pretty much disowned me whether or not I am over exaggerating when I say that I am a total bitch these days. I cry at the drop of a hat, I can't stand anything going wrong, and even though I don't want to be, I am yelling all the time about everything. I hate the world and I hate God and I hate my body and I hate hate hate. Bless Dan for putting up with me these days.
Night Sweats
When I finally do get to sleep, usually after three or four cold showers, I wake up a few hours later just soaking wet from sweat. My hair is sticky and my back is wet and I literally stink. Along with that comes the inevitable stains on my sheets...as if they weren't ruined enough from the bleeding all the time before the surgery. So yeah, night sweats? NOT fun.
Hot flashes
Ok, so its Spring in Iowa, which in most places would mean cool nights and nice days, except we live where there is no spring, only winter and summer. And it is full on summer....85 degrees till the sun goes down, then we get a little break and fall down to 70. Put on top of this the fact that randomly throughout the day for no particular reason I break into a sweat and become literally so hot I think I have just caught a plague or something....it pretty much sucks. I tried just the air conditioning...no good. Fans? No good. Air conditioning and two fans with a constant ice pack on the back of my neck while drinking iced water all day like its going out of style? Slightly bearable.
Distorted self-image
So I know that I am still the same person and Dan still finds me attractive and all that...but I can't seem to look at myself in the mirror for longer than to brush my teeth and hair. I hate my body for betraying me and I hate myself for accepting it and giving up the fight. I am hoping that this will change in time, or at least get easier, but if it doesn't you can expect many more blogs about the horrors of self-loathing.
I kid you not I have a new respect for anyone, any age, who has ever had to live through this. That being said, surgical menopause is harder than biological, ask any doctor. (I have to say this because there are certain people out there who seem to think that just because they had hot flashes once a week for 10 after giving birth four times that means they know what I am going through.) It is the second hardest thing I have ever had to do, the first being accepting that I would never have biological children and that I needed this hyst to get better. I know that it has only been two weeks and that it will take a long time, years even, to be completely ok with it...and I may never be completely ok with it, but I am hoping that one day I will be able to completely accept it.
As most of you will notice the blog has taken a large overhaul and re-doing, and I plan to post more often if the hopes of helping others who are going through the same thing I am. I also plan to add other things, such as a spin on wordless Wednesdays and maybe book reviews or something like that. If anyone has any ideas or suggestion I am totally open to them! I am also going to try to start tagging my posts so that new readers can easily find something they might be looking for. I am hoping to increase my readership with these things, because, lets face it, more followers makes anyone happy!
I might post again later tonight, maybe with the firsts of the series I am thinking about...maybe not. Depends if I am actually able to sleep later or not. In the mean time I hope everyone out in blogger land is well and that those that are in pain get some relief.
And here I am. Sixteen days post hyst and menopausal and 26 years old. I NEVER thought that this would be has miserable as it is. Shall we look at all my symptoms one by one?
MOOD SWINGS
You can ask my husband, my dog, or my family who has pretty much disowned me whether or not I am over exaggerating when I say that I am a total bitch these days. I cry at the drop of a hat, I can't stand anything going wrong, and even though I don't want to be, I am yelling all the time about everything. I hate the world and I hate God and I hate my body and I hate hate hate. Bless Dan for putting up with me these days.
Night Sweats
When I finally do get to sleep, usually after three or four cold showers, I wake up a few hours later just soaking wet from sweat. My hair is sticky and my back is wet and I literally stink. Along with that comes the inevitable stains on my sheets...as if they weren't ruined enough from the bleeding all the time before the surgery. So yeah, night sweats? NOT fun.
Hot flashes
Ok, so its Spring in Iowa, which in most places would mean cool nights and nice days, except we live where there is no spring, only winter and summer. And it is full on summer....85 degrees till the sun goes down, then we get a little break and fall down to 70. Put on top of this the fact that randomly throughout the day for no particular reason I break into a sweat and become literally so hot I think I have just caught a plague or something....it pretty much sucks. I tried just the air conditioning...no good. Fans? No good. Air conditioning and two fans with a constant ice pack on the back of my neck while drinking iced water all day like its going out of style? Slightly bearable.
Distorted self-image
So I know that I am still the same person and Dan still finds me attractive and all that...but I can't seem to look at myself in the mirror for longer than to brush my teeth and hair. I hate my body for betraying me and I hate myself for accepting it and giving up the fight. I am hoping that this will change in time, or at least get easier, but if it doesn't you can expect many more blogs about the horrors of self-loathing.
I kid you not I have a new respect for anyone, any age, who has ever had to live through this. That being said, surgical menopause is harder than biological, ask any doctor. (I have to say this because there are certain people out there who seem to think that just because they had hot flashes once a week for 10 after giving birth four times that means they know what I am going through.) It is the second hardest thing I have ever had to do, the first being accepting that I would never have biological children and that I needed this hyst to get better. I know that it has only been two weeks and that it will take a long time, years even, to be completely ok with it...and I may never be completely ok with it, but I am hoping that one day I will be able to completely accept it.
As most of you will notice the blog has taken a large overhaul and re-doing, and I plan to post more often if the hopes of helping others who are going through the same thing I am. I also plan to add other things, such as a spin on wordless Wednesdays and maybe book reviews or something like that. If anyone has any ideas or suggestion I am totally open to them! I am also going to try to start tagging my posts so that new readers can easily find something they might be looking for. I am hoping to increase my readership with these things, because, lets face it, more followers makes anyone happy!
I might post again later tonight, maybe with the firsts of the series I am thinking about...maybe not. Depends if I am actually able to sleep later or not. In the mean time I hope everyone out in blogger land is well and that those that are in pain get some relief.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Spring with no ovaries
Dan and I took Sassy to the dog park today, and it was the most time I have spent on my feet outside since the hyst. It was hotter than hell and I ended up with a blister, but NO PAIN. Not even a little bit. Like Dan had to stop me from running around with her because its only been a couple weeks. Its pretty much awesome.
I have pretty much but most ties with my family. I won't go into details on the internet because, well, I know they like to read the blog and use things I say against me, so I will just say that I will have to be one of those people who don't see their family often, which isn't the worst thing, being as my best support system comes in the form of my friends.
I haven't been blogging much lately because I have been actually journaling. Something about actually writing my thoughts down on the paper just makes me feel better, although I do feel pretty crummy about the lack of my updates here. Perhaps this is the start of me being better about that.
The title is Spring but there is no spring in Iowa. There is only winter and hotter-than-hell. Throw in the hot flashes and the fact that I generally run hot anyways and you have one cranky Sara Jean.
Foster/adopt classes start in June, and despite what certain people have told me lately I know that this is the way we are going to build our family.
I have started to read about Buddhism, and even though I am not turning my back on how I was raised, I find it interesting to learn about other customs and religions and maybe even practice the traditions in my own life. Thanks for my friend Sonja for recommending "Living Buddha, Living Christ" for a good place to start. Its a short read but I am very much enjoying it.
I plan to spend the rest of the evening looking for fun way to update the blog. I know I just did this but I seem to be more likely to actually post when I change it up, cause I am silly like that. I plan to post more tomorrow about how I am actually coping with the whole H word, but till then I hope you all out in blogger land have a MARvelous evening!
I have pretty much but most ties with my family. I won't go into details on the internet because, well, I know they like to read the blog and use things I say against me, so I will just say that I will have to be one of those people who don't see their family often, which isn't the worst thing, being as my best support system comes in the form of my friends.
I haven't been blogging much lately because I have been actually journaling. Something about actually writing my thoughts down on the paper just makes me feel better, although I do feel pretty crummy about the lack of my updates here. Perhaps this is the start of me being better about that.
The title is Spring but there is no spring in Iowa. There is only winter and hotter-than-hell. Throw in the hot flashes and the fact that I generally run hot anyways and you have one cranky Sara Jean.
Foster/adopt classes start in June, and despite what certain people have told me lately I know that this is the way we are going to build our family.
I have started to read about Buddhism, and even though I am not turning my back on how I was raised, I find it interesting to learn about other customs and religions and maybe even practice the traditions in my own life. Thanks for my friend Sonja for recommending "Living Buddha, Living Christ" for a good place to start. Its a short read but I am very much enjoying it.
I plan to spend the rest of the evening looking for fun way to update the blog. I know I just did this but I seem to be more likely to actually post when I change it up, cause I am silly like that. I plan to post more tomorrow about how I am actually coping with the whole H word, but till then I hope you all out in blogger land have a MARvelous evening!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
For my baby...
I wrote this about a week before my hyst, and just found it again in my journal. Thought I would post it here, to share with my readers.
For Lydia Lane
Dear child I will never carry
I thought of you today
I looked into your eyes of blue
Before you ran away.
I wish I could have spoke to you,
Just said a word or two
To tell you how we hoped and prayed
How much we wanted you.
I feel like I have let you down,
Like there was more that we could do
But it is time to say goodbye,
Cause if I stay here I will drown
Inside this pain where you should be
This hurt down deep inside
I wish I could have put you there
God knows, dear girl, we tried.
But still inside is hurt and tears,
That fill this womb of mine
And even if it means no you,
Myself I must re-define.
I will let them take my womb
Along with any chance of you
In hopes that I will gain a life,
Though it won't be full without you.
I wish that I could make you see
This choice not really mine,
Is made by this that eats me up
This sickness deep inside.
This thing has taken everything
My health, my life, my dreams,
And what I trade to get them back
Is you, my girl unseen.
Please forgive me for giving up,
For saying farewell to you,
But I will always see your face
My girl,
With eyes of blue.
For Lydia Lane
Dear child I will never carry
I thought of you today
I looked into your eyes of blue
Before you ran away.
I wish I could have spoke to you,
Just said a word or two
To tell you how we hoped and prayed
How much we wanted you.
I feel like I have let you down,
Like there was more that we could do
But it is time to say goodbye,
Cause if I stay here I will drown
Inside this pain where you should be
This hurt down deep inside
I wish I could have put you there
God knows, dear girl, we tried.
But still inside is hurt and tears,
That fill this womb of mine
And even if it means no you,
Myself I must re-define.
I will let them take my womb
Along with any chance of you
In hopes that I will gain a life,
Though it won't be full without you.
I wish that I could make you see
This choice not really mine,
Is made by this that eats me up
This sickness deep inside.
This thing has taken everything
My health, my life, my dreams,
And what I trade to get them back
Is you, my girl unseen.
Please forgive me for giving up,
For saying farewell to you,
But I will always see your face
My girl,
With eyes of blue.
