Distant

The past few days I've been finding it harder and harder to connect with this space. Part of it has to do with the demands of daily life. I started teaching again this week, resulting in my spending most of my waking hours responding to emails, meeting with students and just trying to keep my nose above water (the 'head' is a pipe-dream). I'm loving every minute, but obviously it doesn't leave much time for anything else.

But on another level, I've felt a pull to disconnect from the ALI world. Unlike last year, where I felt I had so much to say, I'm feeling a lot more silent. Part of this has to do with us being on hold for expanding our family, as no adoption agency will work with us until after our move. The other part is not knowing how to connect with others who are moving on. In a way, it feels like that after everything Grey and I have been through, we no longer belong.

I struggle with these feelings of exclusion and limbo on a daily basis. A lot of it has to do with the mind-set of this process and how driven everyone is to resolve. I've yet to meet anyone who undergoes fertility treatments who truly believes they won't work. Yes there's always the worry of failure, but there's also the promise of hope. So to be on the end where things haven't worked with no future plans for attempting to make them work isolates me from others. The adoption process is even trickier based on our current circumstances. It's not that we've failed, but more like a failure to launch that's put me into a funk.

In short, I'm trying to figure out where to go from here, redefining my role. I still firmly identify as being infertile, but now more than ever as one of those unspoken cases where a happy-ending isn't as clear. While others around me move forward, finding some resolution, I instead feel like train-wreak that one passes, allowing those that travel through to silently feel relief that life isn't as bad.

What's hard about all these feelings is that most of them are not valid. Sure, others are moving on and finding their babies while we've stopped all efforts. But Grey and I aren't drifting aimlessly. During this break from the TTC madness, we've focused on repairing not only our relationship but also ourselves. For the first time in my life, I finally feel that I am in a safe place to talk openly about all that we've lived through and to actually beginning repairing the damage. We're both breaking old patterns and getting in touch with anxieties and fears about ourselves and our future. None of it has been easy, but we're already seeing the benefits from this. On top of this, this break has really allowed us to better understand why we want children. To explore what it is we want from the role of being 'parent' as well as to really assess whether we have in place qualities to allow children to grow and thrive. This assessment has been incredibly important because of how lacking it is in general in the world. I'm particularly sensitive to this lack because it was lacking in my own life for so long. No child should be a  possession.

In addition to all this work, there's been good things too. Grey and I have developed a weekly ritual of pulling Angel Cards. This was mine for the week

We've also been playing in the garden more recently. Grey's basil and flower boxes are doing very well and the fuchsias did incredibly well this year. I've also discovered a new plant called Melothria scabra, also known as a 'Mouse Melon.' When you see the fruits, it's not hard to see why.

All in all, we're doing well. Better than expected, actually. There are still moments of sadness and anger, but as the days go by I'm feeling more at peace; almost resolved considering our lot.

I guess the whole point of this diatribe is that I'm struggling to figure out where I belong. I'm struggling because we didn't get our happy-ending and yet I know we're going to be okay. Surprisingly okay. All of which isn't what one is suppose to be experiencing when living with infertility and loss because this peace is suppose to be reserved for when you finally resolve. When you're finally holding your children. 

Bitter. Infertile. Podcast!

Late to the party, but better late than never.

At the beginning of August, the brillant and beautiful Mo from Mommy Odyssey decided to create a podcast about infertility. And being as brillant (and beautiful) as she is, she decided to expand this to include all aspects of infertility, from RPL, to IVF, to adoption and even parenting after all the madness.

I am beyond honored to be included with these three women. Read here, here and here for more background (said far better than I ever could hope to).

And then go HERE to listen!

For future podcasts, please visit the Bitter Infertiles website.

Rewire

Drama queen. The urban dictionary defines this as: 1) an overly dramatic person; 2) someone who turns something unimportant into a major deal or blows things out of proportion when ever the chance is given; 3) an annoying bitch who always feels like every insignificant problem in her day is a disaster of Hurricane Katrina proportions.

The warning for definition '3' is 'if you value your sanity, avoid these psychic vampires like the clap or you'll never have a minute's peace.'

I've been feeling like a drama queen as of late, with the events from this last year allowing me to reach new and exciting heights. Initially I was doing a good job of justifying the drama, assuring myself that what I'm dealing with isn't a minor and definitely life-changing. Still, I'm burning myself out. And I'm worried I've beyond burned Grey out.

To counter act the all of this, I've been working closely with our therapists. With each EMDR or marriage counseling session, I find I'm emerging not as a calm and collected individual, but one that is rattled. I'm also struggling as we reprocess memories and emotions, restructuring the way I deal with stress and pain. A lot of this has to do with me not believing that I'm justified in my anger over everything that has happened, mainly because of my inherit believe that I'm cursed. Still I'm trying. But, damn, it's hard.

There was one particular session that stuck with me, though, that has been giving me something to work towards. Dee was talking about her son and how she parents. As I told her my fear of repeating the cycle of abuse with my own children, Dee looked at me and validated my fear. How most people will fall back into patterns that their parents taught them during their childhood. That, as good as our intentions may be not to be like our parents, we inherently will because that's what we know. And that breaking such patterns requires rewiring our brains to eliminate them. In short, it's not as easy as we like to believe.

Hearing this gave me some hope. Grey and I have been working very hard to heal and break dysfunctional patterns. The progress has been slow, though, and both of us have been discouraged by this. To have Dee (and later David) validate how hard this is made me like less of a failure.

I guess the point of all of this is I'm trying to break the drama queen trend. Failing daily, but trying. Hopefully I'll get to the point that I'm no longer avoided like the clap.

Bitter

A belated welcome to all those from ICLW! Just a brief background: my husband Grey and I have been TTC for 2.5 yrs. We were diagnosed with 'unexplained infertility' in January 2011 and began treatment in June 2011. After 3 medicated IUIs, with all of them being negative and me learning first hand how much negative betas suck, we decided to pursue IVF in December 2011. The cycle was outstanding by medical standards, with my REs bringing in medical students and residents to observe our textbook stimulation. We ended up with 8 embryos total, 2 of which were transferred. I got my first BFP ever on December 28, 2011. On January 1, 2012, we learned something was wrong and I was diagnosed with a blighted ovum with a D&C to follow. We did a FET on March 12, 2012 and were hopeful when the first beta came back high, doubling every 36 hrs. 4 days after being reassured that 'things looked great' I started spotting, which turned into full bleeding with clots. I was diagnosed with a completed miscarriage on April 1, 2012. Disheartened, we decided to try one final FET on June 12, 2012, with our two low-grade embryos that weren't suppose to survive the thaw. On June 19, I started experiencing symptoms and had hope that maybe the third-time was the charm. On June 22, 2012, we learned the cycle had failed and the next day decided to end our journey towards a biological child. We are currently in transition as we prepare for a move to Boston, MA in 2013. In the meantime, we are healing and preparing ourselves for the adoption process.

A couple of nights ago, in order to escape the usual, Grey and I decided to watch Les Miserables. I've never seen the movie, the musical or read the book (I know, I know . . . bear with me), but I've heard enough analysis from Grey over the past 8 yrs of our marriage to understand the plot and why it's a seminal work. Considering everything we had recently been through with neighbors, it felt like it was the perfect time. As I watched the story unfold, I found it easy to relate to Valjean and his plight. I admired his conviction to live his life to his moral standards despite living in constant fear of being discovered, but as I neared the end of the film, I began to relate more and more to Javert. Here was a misguided individual who's one great fault was seeing things in black or white. And yet, given his background, it's hard not to blame him for his views despite wanting to hate him so much. Because to escape is beginnings he had to view the world as being black or white. It was necessary to survive.

Last week Mel wrote a post about tolerance that's been haunting me. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend doing so and then doing so again after it's had a chance to sit. The comments section is worthwhile too. Anyway, what's been haunting me is my realization that I view tolerance in a different light from what I did a few years ago. The younger Cristy would have naively stood on her soapbox and proclaimed how necessary it was to practice tolerance and to treat everyone fairly. The younger Cristy would have preached at the top of her lungs about how all humans come into this world equally.

The younger Cristy didn't know what evils exist in the world.

Yes, we need to teach tolerance. We need to learn how to coexist with one another, even those who make our skin crawl and we wish would go play in traffic. But the events from the last couple of weeks have made it resoundingly clear why stereotypes exist. Why certain things are taboo. And all too often, as much as people scream about equality and tolerance, it's always interesting to observe a 'not in my backyard' response when a particularly difficult group moves in.

Grey and I live in a neighborhood that is stuck in transitioning. We moved into our building during the boom years before the financial crash in 2008. At the time, we watched like-minded young couples moving into homes next to third-generation homeowners who were barely able to make ends meet. Our neighborhood was up-and-coming with the promise of parks, sidewalks and affordable living. Following the crash, those that were able to cut their losses and run did. What originally promised to be our new beginning became a nightmare. We soon learned first hand what mental illness looks like and it wasn't long before we learned about the drug houses and the sex offenders that lived nearby.

Still, Grey and I were hopeful. The neighbors that stay were energetic and interested in building community. It wasn't long before a neighborhood watch program moved into our area, compelling everyone to work with the city to eliminate crime and make our community safer. I cheered the first time I saw the neon vest of the neighborhood clean-up crew and the packs of stroller moms who patrolled the streets to make it known that they were watching. We had hope.

Then I learned about what we lived with. I learned about the convict in our midst.

For years I've done my best to be tolerant and accepting. I believe that every person should be judged on their merits and how they live there lives. Still, it's hard to ignore patterns. It's hard to sit by and watch those that need to stay away from certain avenues willfully make decisions to pursue them anyway. And when you get burned and wonder about whether your front door can withstand a blow, it's hard to find one's tolerance fading.

The truth is, I'm bitter about our lot. I'm bitter that treatment failed. Bitter that I can't give my husband the children he deserves. I'm bitter that I came from a dysfunctional family and that they made me the low man on the pecking order. And I'm bitter that I live close to someone who makes my home unsafe. That on top of losing everything else, I have to lose this too.

Therapy is helping on this end. It's nice to have someone who's seen plenty of this type of dysfunction be able to verify that what my gut is telling me is correct. That distancing oneself and silence are the best courses of action. Still, it angers me that we have to learn these lessons too. That one live-changing event wasn't enough.

Processing

On Friday, I had an emergency EMDR session with Dee. Following the stress from the last couple of weeks, I was having multiple panic attacks. Dee managed to fit me in due to a last minute cancelation and we began the session talking briefly about the events that were triggering the panic before getting to work.

I've been using EMDR as a way of process both my pregnancy losses as well as the failed rounds of treatment, but Dee has been wanting to delve deeper for a while. As torturous as infertility has been, she believes that the trauma caused by a dysfunctional family is only exacerbating the situation. I need to be healthy if we are going to be able to proceed with adoption and part of being healthy means also coming to some resolution about the abuse.

As I clutched a Kleenex, Dee began the procedure. Digging deep into my past we revisited the first time I vividly remember being struck and verbally assaulted by my mother. I was 9 yrs old and my parents had left us in the care of a babysitter. The sitter had demolished the aquarium my mother had recently purchased and stocked. When my parents came home, she blamed me. So as my father drove the babysitter home, my mother climbed the stairs to where we were sleeping and began interrogating me. I don't remember what happened after my mother realized I had been falsely accused, all I remember is the pain and the tears.

As terrifying as that incident was, it turns out that wasn't the key to the panic. The key came while Dee was helping me reprocess that incident, reminding me that as terrible as all of that was I'm now safe. And the more she repeated 'your safe,' the harder I shook my head. Finally I opened my eyes and looked right at her. And I told her a tale I haven't spoken about in many years.

When I was 18 yrs old, I decided to get my first tattoo. Being from the midwest, there were only a few acts of adulthood that really appealed to me: I wasn't a smoker, I had no desire to gamble, joining the military wasn't my idea of a good time and strip-clubs didn't have much appeal. In addition, I had been dreaming about a tattoo for a couple of years. On my 18th birthday, I quietly left my parents' house and walked into a tattoo parlor for my first tattoo. It wasn't anything overly original (a tiger on my hip with its paw extending a little bit down my leg), but it was my first act of independence. Considering I was an 'A' student with a bright future, this was my bit of rebellion.

When my mom found out she stopped speaking to me for 3 months. I can't begin to tell you how damaging it is to live with someone who pretends you don't even exist. I spent many nights apologizing and trying to amend the situation. I begged, pleaded and even tried reasoning with her. Nothing worked. Finally, she dropped the ultimate bomb: either I have the tattoo removed or forgo college. I spent about a month looking into options to finance college on my own. With no one helping me, I became an easy target for military recruiters and bankers interested in preying on the naive. I'm lucky I didn't sign anything. Finally, with a heavy heart, I made the decision to remove the tattoo. Paying for most of the procedure myself.

As much as people complain about tattoo application, removal is a thousand times worse. The only pain that has surpassed that in my life has been the D&C. It was painful because I had given up control of my body to a mad woman. I still remember the doctors looking at my mother and trying to talk her out of this procedure. It was clear to them I was being forced. And yet, no one did anything. Not my teachers, not my friends and not even the members of my family. They were too afraid of her wrath.

When I told Dee this story, she sat back and said "I'm so sorry." The first time ever that anyone outside of Grey has told me that. And immediately that became our target for the session.

The truth is I'm scared that one day I'll come home and find my mother on my doorstep. I'm beyond angry about what she's done to me and yet I feel powerless regarding protecting myself from her. She's violated my body and been such a source of pain for most of my life that I never learned how to stick up for myself against her. Nothing about her actions is predictable. Everything is a possible trigger and she's used me as her personal whipping-boy for so very long. Initially I thought I had overcome this, that I was doing better. My sister's wedding invitation brought it all back though: all the fear, all the loss and all the pain.

As I cried during the session, I realized something about all of this: I've never grieved the loss of my childhood. I've never allowed myself to. For too long I've been in survival mode, just trying to make it through all the madness. When my mom told me that I deserved my infertility, I took it to heart believing that damnation with each failed treatment or loss. Every bit of it. Sure, I swung back too, accusing her of being an unfit and undeserving mother. But this dance was taught at a very young age. Instead of playing and learning about the world, I was honing my tongue and learning how to brace myself for an outburst.

We have a long way to go still. This process is complex because despite the abuse, there were good moments too. It's the good moments that make all of this difficult as without them I could easily cut my losses. But that's not how the world works. How dysfunction works. The truth is, I've long believed I don't deserve to be a mother. To feel the movements of my child growing within me, to hold them when they first enter the world, to watch them grow and to take joy in watching them become part of the world. But the truth is that I also use to believe that I was unlovable and would never find a partner in life. Grey proved that idea wrong and continues to do so every day. With Dee's help, I want to overcome this last-lingering myth about myself. I want to feel like I do deserve children, just as much as the next person. Because I have done nothing to deserve the venom that was forced onto me, the lies I was told simply to make me subordinate me.

Day of Hope

Though my pregnancies were short lived, theses potential children will forever be in my heart. 

"August 19th is a day to break down the walls of society that keep pregnancy, infant and child loss a hush hush subject. People view the death of a baby as just a sad thing that happened. These babies that die are not sad things that happen. They are people, much loved and wanted children. They are brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, grandsons and granddaughters."

-CarlyMarie Project Heal: http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/international-dates/august-19th-day-of-hope

Thin

It's been a tough couple of weeks here in the Cristy/Grey household. After riding the high from our trip as well as from the summer sunshine, we were not prepared for drama that was lurking. Within a matter of days, though, that all changed. I really can't get into specifics here, but I will say this: it sucks beyond compare to feel unsafe in your own home.

Compounding this was the arrival of mail from my family. Almost a year ago I made the decision to severe contact with all of them. Still this announcement was a blow, dredging up all the pain and feelings of worthlessness caused by their betrayal and abuse. Needless to say, I haven't been coping well.

On Friday to overcome some of the panic associated with all the stress, I did something I haven't done in years; I went to the local driving range and rented 100 golf balls. The goal was simple: envision problems as golf balls and then smack said problems with a 3 iron. Though it worked for calming me down, it didn't offer any solutions.

Needless to say, it's been difficult to reach out to people as of late. Difficult to feel happy for others when I feel like a cornered animal. It bothers me that my home is compromised on so many levels and to know that there really is nothing I can do to prevent anything from happening other than to prepare myself to the worst and hope for the best. Add in the fact that others I know and love are finally doing well, moving on and it stings all the more. 

The truth is, I feel thin. Very thin. With adoption on hold, the question about leftover embryos and a general sense of chaos, I'm feeling overly tried and edgy. I haven't wanted to talk to anybody about this either simply because there are no simple answers and yet I still get well-meant but useless advice on what to do or not to do. 

What I really want is real answers. Honest to good answers. I want a way to resolve this cold war with my family; to get them to either leave me alone or make an honest attempt to rectify our relationship instead of playing the insane cat-and-mouse game. I want some of the crazies that are threatening my home and family to disappear. And I want someone to come forward with a clear answer to our fertility problems. To allow us to finally move on from all of this as well as to show us the road ahead. 

Instead, I stuck hating the universe and all that it's taken from us. I'm stuck wondering how much longer this cold war can be maintained before the next big blowup happens. And I'm stuck wondering if there's a way to overcome this latest round of disturbances calmly and logically instead of being pushed into a fight that no one will win.