I don’t go to therapy to find out if I’m a freak Tuesday, Mar 31 2009 

Dar Williams, you have a song for everything.

I fired my therapist. Or we broke up. It feels a little like both. It’s cliche, but she wasn’t meeting my needs, and I think we have different goals in life. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen her, and I think I’m doing pretty well, but I mean that in the way that someone a little nuts means it when she manages to hold it together.

I think we might have spent almost as much time discussing our therapist-client relationship as we did talking about my other relationship complications, and the last thing I need is another relationship to deconstruct in a 50 minute hour.

To be frank, because after all part of what we worked on in therapy was my assertiveness, she was cold and, I suspect, a little judgmental. I spent more time qualifying my statements out of worry that she’d latch on to a small piece of the story rather than understand my whole point than I did spilling my deepest fears and darkest secrets.  I’m sure I’m at fault too, mostly for caring so much what she thinks about me, but isn’t that part of why I was there in the first place-to gain some self-confidence and not care what people think? Instead, she made me feel misunderstood and like more of a mess than I thought I was when I walked in.

I realized that it wasn’t me, it was her when I noticed that I always felt worse on my walk back to the office after therapy than I felt while walking (up hill, no less) to therapy, and after weeks and weeks of this I could no longer blame it on my excitement for the pizza that  I always grabbed to eat on my way there  ( it was a lunch time appointment). It was as if  I said, “My big toe hurts, ”

and she replied, “Wow, your toe looks awful, and actually your foot is kind of oddly shaped, oh…and now that I’m paying attention I should probably point out that your skeleton is deformed.”

and what I really needed was, “Oh, you poor courageous thing! That looks like it’s really sore. I’m so proud of you for finishing the marathon.”

So, I’m at a crossroads of sorts. I need to decide if it’s worth it to try to find a new therapist.

On the pro side of the equation: I’ve got issues, I really appreciate what a good-fit therapist can do to help me, I have been fighting some situational depression, my medical issues are depressing, several areas in my life are not functioning  how I want them to, and I would appreciate a professional’s assistance

Cons: There are few insurance-approved therapists in my area, and I’ve had really bad luck with the ones I tried (part of why I stayed with this one when I wasn’t thrilled was because she was competent unlike a few others), I’m not sure I have the energy to try to find another therapist, I’m even less sure I have the energy required to explain my complicated “issues”, scheduling-I don’t even have time to post and read blogs-time is precious

So, Dear Barren Spontaneous Habitual Aborters and Assorted Other Versions of Infertiles, what are your therapy thoughts? Experiences? Should I coast solo for a while? Get back in the ring? (What’s with all of my sporting analogies?) Is it worth the effort to keep looking for a good fit?

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Uncle Sam wants YOU to do fertility drugs Tuesday, Mar 3 2009 

My tax refund came. Interestingly, it’s just about enough to cover meds and copays for a stim cycle. Hmmmmmmmm

pros:

This is OBVIOUSLY a sign from a Higher Power (pick your Power!) that we should do a cycle, and dare I flaunt the will of said Higher Power?

It feels like bonus money

If it works I’ll have an easy answer to the question, “Where do I come from?” -My response : “The government”

Based on our track record this last year there’s never a good time to do this, so maybe we need to just take the plunge

I feel like I’m up against the POF clock and worried I’ve already missed my window of opportunity to use my dusty eggs

Cons:

M.aster.card would really appreciate the funds, and our financial situation has taken quite a hit along with the economy

HoneyBee’s schedule is abysmal, and I’m not sure we could even coordinate the GOFing

It will mean going in late to work a few times, and I love my new job and don’t want to jeopardize it

My health situation still isn’t exactly where I would prefer it to be before TTCing again (but my doctors have no problem with me trying)

What do you think?

Ahhhhhh the google Friday, Feb 27 2009 

Lately the google search terms which lead people here are trending toward the “How To” as in, “Ho.w To Have a Misca.rriage”. Seriously, this, and its permutations, are showing up each day.

 Dear Misguided Internet Searchers, I promise you’re not going to find some super secret good way to have a miscarriage. While there are multiple ways to miscarry, all are pretty bad, and I along with my barren internet co-conspirators try desperately to avoid any and all types of miscarriage. You’re more likely to hear about bed rest and progesterone up the vag or shot directly into a muscle with a large needle  if you stick around here.

Here is my PSA to all of the women  who are pregnant and do not want to be that find my blog:

  Please see a medical provider to discuss your options, including a.bort.ion (the last thing I need is for google to send everyone searching that term here).  Please don’t use the internet to find a way to have a miscarriage. I know that if you look you’ll find, in addition to my infertility and loss blog which isn’t terribly helpful for your situation, many people offering ass-vice and ass-istance, but their ass-vice will cost you more than whatever potion they are trying to sell you. It is terribly dangerous and could cost you your life.  The providers at Pla.nned P.aren.thood are helpful and happy to talk to you about all of your options. They are not there just to perform terminations, contrary to what the right wing may have you believe. Please get off the internet and see a doctor.

The Online NOT Shower Wednesday, Jan 7 2009 

Are you barren? Infertile? A spontaneous aborter? Have I got a party for you! In honor of infertile baby shower attendees everywhere, you are invited to:

AN ONLINE NOT SHOWER

hosted by Barren

When: Ongoing

Where: In the comments section of this post and on your blogs

How: Pour yourself a drink (or 7) and post away, and then buy yourself a present

What: Two parts:

1.Tell us your worst baby shower story, get sympathy, get indignation on your behalf, get tipsy!

2. Post a picture on your blog of your present to yourself

Why: Because you deserve it!

Please link to this post to spread the word . Don’t forget to buy yourself something to celebrate your NOT Shower. You deserve a treat for all the hard work that goes into not reproducing.

I engaged in some retail therapy after I attended a baby shower this weekend, and I’ll try to take some photos once I’m home tonight.

The Wind Beneath My Wings Sunday, Jan 4 2009 

Thanks to Jendeis at Sell Crazy Someplace Else for the award!

red-cape-award

I’m not going to rely solely on this post, which will soon be buried by more rambling and complaining, to inform all of the internets  of my hero status. No sirree! I’m starting a TROPHY WALL, and I encourage you to do the same.  Your trophy wall on you blog can be a place to list all of your awards, shout outs, and interesting bits. Consider it a little shrine for your web-esteem.

I’m bestowing hero status on:

Birds and Squirrels -I just found her blog, and she, like me, is Highly Inappropriate. I’m a big fan of sarcasm in the face of diversity. I also wish her well in her 2ww

Not a Clown Car – For the name of her blog and also to show support for her next rotation through the stirrups.

::::: Passing along the Red Cape Award :::::

On your blog, copy and paste the award, these rules, a link back to the person who selected you, and a link to this post: Red Cape Award SuperCrew. This is a running list of awardees.

Check in on the SuperCrew post by leaving a link to your blog and a comment to let Kymberli of I’m a Smart One know that you were passed a Red Cape Award so she can add you to the list.

Select as many award recipients as you would like, link to their blogs (if they have one), and explain why you have chosen them.

Let them know that you have selected them for an award by commenting on one of their posts.

If you find that someone you want to nominate has already been selected by someone else, you can still honor them by posting a comment on their award post stating your reasons for wishing to grant them the award.

Back in the stirrups? Friday, Jan 2 2009 

At least once a week for the past few months I’ve told HoneyBee  that I want a  baby-SHOCKING, I know, but that’s all I say;  I voice the want, but I don’t mention starting another cycle, going back to the RE, or anything concrete that could possibly result in a real baby because those same activities might fail, or even more devastating, they might end with just an embryo or fetus but still no baby. I want a baby, but I don’t want yet another negative or a second miscarriage, and I’m worried that I’m not ready to try again if I can’t face the prospect of disappointment.

By taking a break I’ve managed to squirrel away my fears in a back corner of my brain and chalk up not trying to logistical issues, but the reality is that my eggs aren’t getting any younger, and their quality surely isn’t improving. I worry that if I wait to be ready I’ll miss our window of already borrowed time.

Last week HoneyBee brought up trying again in a month or two. While he’s always been on board with our cycles, he’s never been the instigator. I’ve been the one to ask him if he’s up for another go.  He’s game, but I’m the organizer.

If I wait until I think  I’m ready to face the negative as well as hope for a positive we may never try again. If I keep delaying another cycle and don’t ovulate or get pregnant  once we finally feel ready I know I’ll wish we tried earlier, and I’ll always wonder if we missed our chance at a good egg because I was too frightened to deal with it.

So, there’s our answer. I can’t let fear prevent opportunity.  I guess that means I’m back in the stirrups soon. Hopefully in the next few weeks it will start to be a prospect that excites me because I’m hopeful and optimistic instead of something I’m doing because I’m afraid I’ll regret it later if I don’t step up now.

Conversations Monday, Dec 29 2008 

Picture it! The frozen northern tundra, a baby shower, two friends chatting while the infertile spontaneous aborter*  snuggles her due date twin’s new daughter.

Me: “I’m going to  need you to show me how to install your car seat in my car (so that I can steal your beautiful, cooing, chill baby)”

N: “OMG, does this mean you’re…!!!!!!!!” (said in front of a group of people)

Me: “NO!!!!!, not what I meant. Not pregnant!” (room suddenly silent) “Anyway, I was just asking so that I could steal your baby”

N: “Ha, ha.”

Part of me wasn’t really kidding

*What an awesomely wrong term for miscarriage.  It sound like an activity club. As with Barren, I’m going to embrace the description wholeheartedly .

What’s pink and blue and makes me cranky? Saturday, Dec 27 2008 

Two things are certain IF I attend your baby shower:

1. I will drink. I will call ahead and subtly inquire if there will be alcohol. If there won’t be, I’ll bring my own.

2. Your kitchen will be spotless. The drunk lady hiding from the baby talk will make herself useful.

I’m heading to my friend’s baby shower. I originally replied “maybe” because I didn’t know if I’d still be in town, but I am. I should have just made something up, but I was off my game when it came up the other night.

I’m late for the shower and I’m cranky.

I’m mad at the frozen northern tundra for not being more exciting and having lots of activities for me to pretend to be attending instead of this shower

I’m cranky at Honey Bee for not having his schedule such that I had an excuse to be out of here. I’m also missing him terribly and so sick of  spending this much time apart (especially around holidays)

I’m annoyed at my friends for not seeing through my vague RSVP and guessing that I might not want to come

I’m mad at my father for the little life lessons he won’t shut the fuck up about (not necessarily shower related, but I thought I’d throw it in there)

I’m mad at my miscarriage. Miscarriage, I HATE you

I’m pissed at my ovaries.

Mostly I’m disappointed at myself for not just saying no to the invite and taking care of  myself for once instead of worrying about what everyone will think

That Infertile Glow! Sunday, Dec 14 2008 

Infertility seems to really agree with my complexion. Since I can’t get pregnant without shooting up expensive hormones in my stomach, I don’t have to worry about damaging a theoretical fetus with teratogenic creams and potions. Bring on the Retin A! I used  it pretty regularly (every other day, the lowest strength, my skin is sensitive) for a few years before we started the cycles of crack….errr Follistim, but since high doses of vitamin A are very bad for fetuses and Retin A is vitamin A, I dutifully adjusted my skin preservation routine when we decided to try to reproduce. After the miscarriage we thought we’d cycle again soon, but the months have dragged on and the break has become a sabbatical. A few weeks ago I found the tube in the back of the medicine kit. I looked in the mirror at the new fine lines, down at the cream, and back at my reflection as a smile formed across my face. I might not have any control over the age and condition of my ovaries, but I sure as hell plan to do what I can to keep the lines of dissappointment and fatigue off of my face.

Ice cream Monday, Nov 10 2008 

I stood in line at the ice cream shop behind the enormously pregnant woman in a sea of families. The humidity was thick on this first exceptionally hot day of summer, and I, like many of my neighbors, was treating myself to something cold and sweet. At a few months post-miscarriage my pregnancy felt simultaneously distant and raw, much like a  partially healed wound opened yesterday.

The very pregnant woman  with her weary eyes and sweaty hair was more than visibly uncomfortable. She looked absolutely miserable. I once had a friend in similar discomfort at 40+ weeks desperately  ask her fellow parishioners to pray for her to not be pregnant any more. This woman may have done the same earlier that morning.

She looked back at me, fresh from my air-conditioned home only a block away, clad in yoga capris and a athletic top, agile in my maneuvering around the quick darting children and automatic door, and I saw a shadow of envy pass across her eyes. She was tired, uncomfortable, hot, probably not sleeping, and huge, and I was…not.  I would have traded places with her in an instant.

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