Their song

It's no secret that 2 week waits are hard. For anyone that is on the TTC journey, this time is met with both anticipation and dread. For anyone living with infertility and loss, there's an extra level of anxiety around this period, as the anticipation is fueled with a silent prayer of "please let this result in a baby to hold." 

Back in January, I found myself yet again in the dreaded 2 week wait. This time was even more final than the others, as these were our last 2 embryos from the only fresh IVF cycle I ever will goes through. A lot was riding on this period and I was spending a lot of time fighting off the negative-thinking/symptom watching with distraction. It was during this period, as I was beginning my daily commute between Tacoma and Seattle, that I frequently heard The Illumineer's latest release "Stubborn Love" playing on the radio. A haunting melody that would be stuck with me during the hours I was working and seeking distraction from unwanted thoughts.

She'll lie and steal and cheat,
And beg you from her knees
Make you thinks she means it this time

As the days passed, I tired to figure out what it was about this song that was sticking with me. After all, in moments where grief and despair threatened to take over, I would find this song playing and willing me not to surrender. Like most who have been on this road, I initially associated this as a sign from our two embryos, thinking it was their way of communicating with me and telling me not to give up. But as time went on, it became apparent the message was more than that.

She'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair
But I still love her, I don't really care 

It's no secret that fertility treatments are nightmarish experiences. Between the drugs, the waiting, the unknowns, it's enough to drive a person mad. Add in the fact that success is not a given, with most having to endure multiple rounds, and it's not terribly surprising that one's mental and emotional state can rapidly deteriorate. Still, hope of a positive outcome keeps us coming back. The promise of holding our children and putting all of this behind gives us the courage to try, even in the face of so much pain.

Reflecting back on my youth, I remember being naive about pain. A lot of the time, the solutions to problems were simple, requiring a limited amount of time and energy to come to resolution.

When we were young,
Oh oh, we did enough
When it got cold,
Ooh ooh, we bundled up
I can't be told,
Ah ah it can't be done

With infertility, though, I learned the true nature of pain. What it truly meant to lose and the madness of having no easy solution. For a long time, I struggled with my anger and bitterness regarding my lot. "Why me? Why this?" were questions I frequently asked, not only myself, but those around me and even the universe. Instead of getting answers, though, silence was often the response. Silence that only exacerbated the pain.

And then came my losses. The babies that were dearly wanted that were gone too soon. The pain and the grief were debilitating, leaving me praying for the numbness would set in and that I could retreat into my cocoon.

It's better to feel pain, than nothing at all
The opposite of love's indifference
So pay attention now,
I'm standing on your porch screaming out
And I won't leave until you come downstairs

In the end, though, I learned that running the pain only extended it. That denying its existence didn't erase it. That it required me to face it, embrace it. It was then and only then that I truly began to heal. 

Still the urge to run and hide exists. The temptation to ignore all that's happened and pretend it was a bad dream, allowing us to be "normal" is one that pulls on Grey and I daily. After all, it's what society pushes us to do and the discomfort we encounter talk about our losses makes it clear that many would prefer we didn't.

And I don't blame ya dear
For running like you did, all these years
I would do the same, your best believe
And the highway signs say we're close,
But I don't read those things anymore
I never trusted my own eyes

Listening to the radio, one thing became clear: as painful as all of this has been, there have been gains. I learned that there is a strength that exists in all of us that so few know how to tap. That to tap it requires one to face greatest fears and to refuse to simply except their lot. That, too often, with the easy road comes misery and unhappiness. That when we conform to what others believe we should be or act in ways that others deem acceptable, more often than not we are no longer being true to ourselves. Hence it's important to follow our heart, picking the road that is best for us. To ignore the warning signs and to take a chance.

So keep your head up, keep your love
Keep your head up, my love
Keep your head up, my love
Keep your head up, keep your love

In the end, this song wasn't simply a sign from the embryos that were implanting. This song was a reminder of all that had happened. A reminder of the ones we had lost along the way. And it was a call, during this period of uncertainty and anxiety to not give up. A reminder to have hope for a life that was worth living.

This is their song. 

Confronting anger

Well, it’s been a month. A month without writing; a month away from this community. A month to focus instead on real life and all the chaos that comes with it. In truth, there have been some good things about taking time away; a step back. But there has been a downside of not writing and processing all that passes through my head. Someone once told me that time heals all wounds. In truth, this method does work. For some cases, it only exacerbates the situation.

The past month, has been a trying one, with both Grey and I surrounded by people who have either caused us harm or tried to take advantage of us. I've dealt with selfish beasts who have not only damaged my car when they were suppose to be repairing it but then drug their feet in fixing the issue. They then proceeded to become pissed when insurance had to be brought in once again to remedy the issue, claiming that the necessary body work was over-priced and unfounded. Thankfully, the issue was resolved, but not without me having to pull a trump card I swore I would never pull and accusing one of them of trying to harm my unborn children.

We also directly confronted mouth-breathers who had previously patronized Grey and me, assuring us they knew how to do various forms on construction. These all-knowing individuals are now responsible for a roof leaking that has caused damage through 2 floors of our condo building and has resulted in so much structural damage that the association now has grounds to pursue legal action in order to pay the bills. These same individuals have passed around blame, maintaing their innocence and accusing Grey and me of being bullies as we've asked for repairs to be completed. To date, we've been forced to vacate over half our home and we came close to spending a few nights in a motel (which we would have had to pay for) because of chemical treatments that needed to be applied to eradicate mold. 

And then there have been the “professional” idiots who are also OB/GYNs, who clearly are overwhelmed by an IVF twin pregnancy with a mother who has been diagnosed with APA syndrome, but who continue to insist that they completely have this situation under control. These same doctors have told me during a phone consultation where I was concerned about 3 days of cramping that there was a 50% chance I was miscarrying and then proceeded to become offended when I pointed out following an ultrasound that they had scared me needlessly. Thank the Universe for Mo for talking me out of my hysteria.

To top all of this off came the news that I may be unemployed starting in July. Due to the sequester, granting agencies have been forced to scale back on the amount of funding that is being awarded to young investigators and towards fellowships for aspiring scientists. To date, of the 5 agencies I've applied to for funding, one has said "no" because I was too far out from graduation and the other simply because of the proposal. Sure, there's still three opportunities that we're waiting on, but the rejections have made it all the more clear that I may be SOL. Add in the fact that my current institution informed me that I'm not on the teaching schedule for the upcoming 2013-2014 academic year because they assumed that I would be in Boston regardless, and I find myself potentially jobless for the first time since I was 14 yrs. old.

Needless to say, Saturday was a hard day. During a moment where I felt completely encroached upon by one of the contractors who doesn't respect boundaries, I succumb to tears and the panic that followed. It was not a pretty sight.

The truth is, despite finally finding myself pregnant and the babies being healthy, I'm terrified of the future. Grey and I are currently getting zero help with any of these situations and we're finding it hard to find balance when it seems like so many are trying to take advantage of us. In addition, we're learning that asking for help is more often than not met with a shrug or a blank stare. And I'm learning once again that what does get people moving is to put the pleading aside and to order people into action, a response that is frustrating to execute on so many levels.

All of this has had me reflecting back on the events from a month ago. How everything got so hot so fast and out of control. Before anyone jumps down my throat, I'm not revisiting my fuck-up. I own that one and the harm I caused in a moment of panic and fear. But I do feel that I need to say my piece about the nastiness that went around. The hatred and evil comments that were directed at well-respected bloggers who have done nothing but reached out to others and offer support.

Mo's last post on Saturday caught me by surprise. I knew she had been feeling disconnected for awhile and was hurting from all the negative backlash. But to see it in writing that she was closing up shop and exiting the community during a time that would crush any human being made me question the human condition. As children, we hear about following the "Golden rule" and about how important it is to love one another. Thankfully, with those I follow, I see that more times then not. But when I don't, it always makes me wonder about why these people live. What's the point of living when your life is about living to attack?

I know with this post, I'm opening myself up to so much criticism and potential pity. None of which I want or feel I deserve. The truth is, though, as a 12 week pregnant woman who is carrying twins, I know there are many that see me as no longer being relevant. That somehow being lucky enough to have the right combination of medications, oversight and knowledgable doctors as well as just having the stars align and now being in this state, I've somehow had the past 3 years of grief, failure and blood that it took to get here magically disappear. That somehow I now longer get it, that my ALI membership card is now revoked and I am the enemy. 

But here's another truth I've also learned: anyone can be more than their infertility/losses. It may mean confronting a number of ugly truths that exist about our species and confronting the fact that we will ultimately be the source of our own destruction, but it also means that one must confront their anger and frustration and put their faith in those who will work towards a better tomorrow.

So, that's what I'm doing. I'm not turning a blind eye to the hatred and betrayal I've witnessed first hand. But I am also working hard to confront my anger with all of this and make conscious decisions to work towards something better. Part of this will still require me to humble myself in certain moments, but I also will no longer make apologies to people who actively abuse and bully me or anyone I love. At the minimum, I owe that much to my children.

As promised: socks

Despite recent drama, I haven't forgotten about the sock exchange. Here's the list:

Elana @ Elana's Musings and KelBel @ Tales from Our Yellow Brick Road

oursoonerchick @ One day at a time and StacyLee @ Conceptionally Challenged

Nickeecoco and Sexy Sadie @ The Sub-Fertile Slut

Teresa F and Non Sequitur Chica

lamenting the lentil and Sadie @ Invincible Spring

And finally, a three way.

Rain @ Weathering Storms and Alicia @ Queen of the Slipstream and Jessah @ Dreaming of Dimples

Ladies, I have an extra special plea: please don't add to my stress-level by not contacting your exchange partner. Most of you I know will not do this, not I occasionally get a couple with each of these exchanges and it breaks my heart. So many women have written me to tell me how much these socks mean to them, so please write me if you want to bow out. No hard feelings if you communicate with me, I promise.

An apology

Earlier this week, I wrote a post addressing what I perceived as an attack on the Bitter Infertiles. Since Monday, things have fallen apart, resulting in a lot of hard feelings and a fractured group. The past 24 hours. have been spent in tears and trying to retrace my steps as to how everything went so wrong so quickly. Needless to say, there’s been a lot of self-reflection and owning my role in all of this.

I need to start by apologizing directly to Esperanza. I’m sorry that I caused you pain in any way or made you feel that you needed to censor yourself. No one should be made to feel that they are not allowed to have an opinion or share their thoughts with the world. In addition, no one should feel like they are being attacked. For that, I am truly sorry. And I’m sorry if my actions made anyone else feel that way too.

But the thing is, I’m not entirely at fault in this situation. Over the past few weeks, the criticism against the podcast has grown and grown. Granted, I understand that people are excited about what has been happening and want to share their thoughts and opinions on each podcast and how we have been proceeding. But, honestly, there’s been a lot of negativity. To date, outside of an incredibly nasty comment sent directly to us, I’ve watched commentary criticizing us not being appropriate because all the members are pregnant, see critiques about how we address different topics and even watched direct attacks on us personally. And though I’m sure in an ideal world I would be able to brush it off, the truth is that it’s all been too much.

I came to this community over a year ago, seeking support and comradery from others would were also in the trenches. Over the past year, this community has been an amazing source of support during my darker moments. Something that I am incredibly grateful for. But there is a dark side to this community. I’ve watched members viciously attack others, bullying them into silence over something they disagree about. Granted, these events are not constant, but when they happen it’s crushing to watch. And frankly, it’s shameful.

Over the last few days, I’ve felt more and more cornered, with people passing judgment on me and something I’ve worked hard for. Not once has someone taken a step back to consider how it might feel to be picked apart. The comparison of this podcast to the Redbook Infertility Diaries frightened me, making me wonder how long it would be before the mob was banging on my door.

The purpose of my post was to cut all of the grumbling off. What I hoped to address was not that others were wrong but that all the concerns and criticism was being addressed. I hoped to stop the fire from spreading, so to speak.

What happened instead was a backdraft. The end result being the future of this podcast uncertain. Mo and I have talked a lot since then, trying to figure out what needs to be done in order to heal. So far, all we’ve gotten is silence. The damage from this passive aggression has only deepened the wounds and forever fractured trust.

So, as of today, Bitter Infertiles is suspended. The one thing I had hoped to avoid has happened and there is no resolution in sight. In addition, I’ve watched Mo struggle with watching something she’s nurtured and help grow start to die around the anniversary of the loss of her son. I’ve watched people attack her, telling her that she’s lucky to have a dead baby. Something so unbelievably horrible and evil; something I never thought I would bear witness to.

I want to end by thanking those of you who have been a source of support during this time. In the moments where Mo debated deleting everything connecting her to this community, you’re words and wisdom have been what has brought her back from the brink. It’s also forced me to recognize that those that are problematic are in the minimum and that in general people do believe not only in this podcast, but also in us.

For now, I’m planning on stepping away from this space. There is so much healing that needs to happen and I know that it can only begin if I’m not here. To the ones I’ve grown to love like sisters, I promise I won’t be far away. But right now, being in the space is too destructive. There’s too much bad blood. 

Winter Sock Exchange

Apparently today was a sunny day in Seattle. Instead of enjoying it (like most sane people would do), I've been stuck indoors attempting to writing a lecture about protein trafficking. I'm completely suck on signal sequences and all the crazy things they do.

Anyway, in an effort to celebrate surviving the holidays as well as the groundhog not seeing his shadow, I'm hosting another sock exchange.

Background: The idea is not my own and those who are not familiar with them should read here and here.  I have added one change to this exchange: it is open to anyone touched by infertility/loss. Though the original idea was to have something interesting to wear while in the stirrups (either as a conversation starter or to keep your feet warm in style) I've come to realize that fertility is not limited to the ability to conceive and carry a pregnancy to term. Far from it, as I'm now met too many who either are still in the trenches or have resolved either through adoption or living without children not by choice or successful treament who live fertile lives. Sometimes far more fertile than those who can easily conceive. So, whether you are newly diagnosed, preparing for treatment, in the thick of treatments, pregnant after IF/loss, parenting after adoption/IF/loss, in the adoption process, made the decision to live without children not by choice, transitioning or simply stuck at the crossroads, this exchange is for you.

Here are the rules:
1) Leave a comment below to let me know if your interested. This exchange is open to anyone who has been touched by IF/miscarriage/infant loss, be it you're currently in treatment, preparing for treatment, recently diagnosed, pregnant after IF/loss, parenting after adoption/IF/loss, pursing adoption, living without children not by choice or even supporting someone dealing with IF.

2) Once you've received your recipient's names, please contact them within 24 hrs. Recipients, please response within 24 hrs too. This is incredibly important so that everyone has all the necessary information. For those who will be difficult to contact, please leave an additional comment with your contact information. I will not publish it, but it will help with making the connections.

3) Socks do NOT need to be handmade. Again, when I originally started doing this, I did it because I'm a crazy knitter who in addition to wanting to give something that was handmade also uses knitting as a form of therapy. Please do not feel that you need to learn to knit, crotchet or sew in order to participate. And there are some amazing sock stores out there.

4) If you can no longer participate in the exchange, please contact me immediately. Yes, life happens and unseen circumstances can require you to focus your energy elsewhere. (Trust me, I get it.) But please don't leave your recipient hanging. I'm more than happy to reassign, as long as I'm aware that you can no longer participate.

Deadline for participation is Saturday February 16th. I'll post a reminder as the deadline comes closer.

Episode 20: living childfree

Before I begin, I realize I forgot to post the link for Episode 19: Fertility 102. Yeah, I'm that out of it. I apologize for not posting sooner.

This week, the Bitter Infertiles tackled an incredibly important yet often misunderstood road of resolution: childfree living. Our guests are two amazing and inspirational women who are helping blaze the trail and educating the public about this choice: Pamela Tsigdinos, author of Silent Sorority and Loribeth who blogs at "The Road Less Traveled."

Ladies, Episode 20 is officially live. Please, regardless of where you are in your journey, go listen.  This episode is probably one of the most powerful and inspirational ones we've done to date. And it's because the message both Loribeth and Pamela bring with them: you are more than the sum of your lady parts. Being able to conceive will not define you as a person (regardless of what society tells you). And fitting into the mold of a nuclear family with 2.5 kids will not equal happiness.

What defines you is how you chose to live your life in the face of the trauma and tragedy that is infertility and loss. What defines you is how you will preserve your family, be it a family of two with your and your partner or any other combination imaginable. For many of us, that will mean making peace that things did not come out exactly the way you wanted. A hard thing to do, as ignoring the pain and drifting is so much easier. But drifting and staying in the same space never results in happy endings. And though change is scary, amazing things can come.

On a personal note, I want to thank Loribeth, Pamela and No Kidding in NZ for teaching me some valuable lessons these last few months. Though I was initially terrified of exploring each of your stories, I'm so glad I did. You have all taught me so much about life and helped me see that though I can't control what happens to me, I can control how I chose to confront each disappointment and moment of pain. You've taught me that from the ashes we can rise like Phoenixes and pursue a life that is full, filled with purpose, happiness and joy. Saying "thank you" is not enough.

Highs and lows

Rough days. Those ones where you wonder why you even rolled out of bed. Yesterday was certainly a rough one, resulting in both Grey and I riding one hell of an emotional rollercoaster.

The groundwork for yesterday's craziness was last week. Classes have started at my institution and your's truly is teaching a brand new course aimed at younger students, resulting in many of my evenings being spent either on writing lectures, quizzes, grading and even managing course logistics. All in all, not a terrible thing, but their first exam is tomorrow, meaning everyone has been a bit stressed.

On top of this, my symptoms disappeared on Friday. The constant nausea I had been fighting for the last few weeks completely vanished and I found I wasn't as tired as I had been. Initially, though I was nervous, I was able to keep the anxiety at bay. But then I did something stupid. In a moment of weakness, I hit Dr. G.oogle and began finding stories about miscarriage and loss. The floodgates where officially open.

By Monday morning I was a wreak. Between work stress, pregnancy stress and home stress (the leak in our roof still haven't been fixed and the idiots who had caused the mess were still trying to gaslight us), it's a wonder I made it through lecture without breaking down. Somehow I managed to keep myself composed as Grey and I drove to the clinic for our ultrasound, repeating to him over and over that I knew I was being ridiculous for worrying. I'm sure I was quite a sight though.

Arriving at the clinic early gave me a chance to sit and meditate. Staring off at Mt. Rainer, I tried to clear my mind of what lay ahead, focusing instead on the exam I still needed to complete and submit that evening. As I continued with mentally writing, I hit a moment where I acknowledged that what I was doing was steeling myself. I was preparing for the ultrasound technician to do a sweep of my uterus and after a moment of silence tell Grey and I the bad news. And that somehow, we would have to walk out of that room and I would have to finish the task that laid in front of me.

So you can only imagine the crippled mess I was when none of that happened.

The ultrasound tech we had is one of my favorites. Warm, kind and a great bedside manner, she completely understood where I was coming from when I told her I no longer had symptoms. Talking me down and acknowledging that it can be scary, she proceeded with the ultrasound and quickly found our Sugar Beat. Heartbeat still very strong and measure 12.5 mm.

And then she moved the wand just slightly and immediately we all took notice. Off to the side of Sugar Beat, in what had previously been an empty second sac, was another embryo. It was hard to get a clear view, based on the angle of the camera, but immediately we saw the familiar flicker of a heart. Initially Grey thought it was simply another angle of Sugar Beat, but when the ultrasound tech brought them up side by side, showing two distinct sacs, all the questions ceased.

At that moment, all I could do was sob.

Later that night, I had an appointment with Dee. We both talked about the events of the day and the rollercoaster I had inflicted upon myself. I told Dee that I didn't know if I could handle another round of it. That after 3 yrs of infertility, loss, despair and grief, that it hurt so much to experience the mania and the depression. There's more though, too. I'm very aware of stress hormones and the effects they have developing fetuses. How flooding the body constantly has negative effects to both mother and child. And I feel that I owe it to these two to do better; to work on finding balance and not allowing things to spiral out of control.

So, last night after I finished writing the exam, I took a mental holiday. I've scheduled breaks into my day, giving me a chance to take walks and observe my surroundings. And I've made a conscious decision to start trusting this process. To believe not only in my doctors and the care they've been providing, but also these two Sugar Beats. Will I slip up? I can guarantee it. But I can't let that stop me from trying to conquer all the bad habits and stress that I've allowed to run my life for so long. Too much is riding on it.