I don't know what to do or where to turn at the moment. I feel like I've been emotionally beaten and torn down. And that doesn't happen often to me, but when it does, it's severe.
Last week, my husband talked to me about a recent discussion that is apparently happening on the donor dads forums. While I'm sure many men discuss various topics -- just as we do, ladies -- the particular topic he mentioned was "pressure" and how some men feel pressured by their wives to use a donor. My husband told me that he sometimes feels that I am pressuring him to use a donor, and that I'm pressuring him to have more children. (As a reminder to my readers, I don't have any children, but he has two from a previous marriage, who live with their mom. He sees them every second weekend.)
Pressure. Hmm. Fair enough. I see his point. I do want children. I don't know how to quell that desire; in many respects it's a basic human function and need, much like food, water, love, etc. The need to procreate and pass on family history and traditions from generation to generation. Yes, there's some level of pressure there. In his view, there are two levels of pressure: (1) to use a donor and (2) to have children at all.
Using a donor
Okay, let's examine this one. If we didn't use a donor (saving us thousands of dollars), we would have to do IVF-ICSI. To do this, he would have to have surgery, and he had indicated he didn't want to do that. I would have to undergo a much more intense protocol of medications, injections and monitoring. We would come close to depleting our savings and likely still have to take out a personal loan. And of course, there is the travel to and from the clinic, necessitating overnight stays in Montréal (possibly more expenses). Remind me again... wasn't it he who pushed for a donor in the first place because he didn't want any of that? He was fine with using a donor? Remember that? What is this 180 degree turn? I don't get it. I just don't.
Having children for the second time
My husband has two children who are now 12 and 11. And he's unsure now at his age if he's ready to tackle that again. The midnight feedings. The diaper changes. The whole parenting routine. He's done it and he had originally thought that he was finished with that stage of his life. But where does that leave us? When we talked about this, he said he understood where I was coming from and he would be willing to have children with me. He said he wanted to bring a child into our lives to share our home, our love, our world. But now he doesn't? What happened? Or has he actually thought that through? Has he simply returned to his old way of thinking because it is what he was used to? Old habits die hard? I don't know. Again, I just don't get it.
I don't want to resent my husband; that isn't fair. Let's be honest: I went into this relationship knowing that he had had a vasectomy and that he'd had two children and he wasn't expecting to have any more. Since we met in 2000, his mindset seemed to have changed. He said that he wanted to have a baby. And suddenly, now he doesn't? *scratches head* So, in effect, my husband is preventing me from becoming a mother. Nice to know I'm being limited in my life's parameters and goals. Sorry. /snarky attitude off
Now you take those two ingredients and mix them with the following:
He asked, "How many times do you want to try donor sperm before we give up?" Huh? How can you expect me to answer that right off the top of my head? I can't. Good God, we've only tried donor inseminations once so far! Give it a chance man! And to come up with a number like that, just off the cuff, I can't do that. Besides, the number of attempts would be decided in collaboration with our RE, and since we're on a TTC break for one more month, I haven't been in touch with the RE's office. He hasn't had any input here yet. So to ask me on the fly to make a snap decision on how many times we try with donor sperm before we give up is a little unreasonable. It seemed to me like he was willing to give up there and then.
If I give up donor sperm IUIs, then what? Do I let my dream of motherhood die? Do I try to get it through my head and my heart that I am never going to be a mom? How do I live with myself? How do I go on? What goals do I set for my life if I don't have that one? I've no idea. I don't know if I can go down that particular path of IF. Tears well in my eyes just writing that.
Yes, I am resenting him right now. It's making me question many things in my life at the moment. So much for having a lovely visit with my mom and aunt. I've not been fit to live with and it isn't their fault at all.
I'm still trying to figure out my next course of action. But at the moment, I don't have any idea on how to proceed, if I proceed at all.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
Pancake Day Traditions
Tomorrow is Shrove Tuesday (aka Pancake Day) for much of North America. Traditionally, pancake day is the day before Ash Wednesday and is the last day before the beginning of 40 days of Lent. During Lent, it was customary to give up little pleasures. In today's society, some people will give up using credit cards for Lent, or drinking pop, or eating candy, things of that ilk. Years ago, it was customary to give up eating meat for Lent, and to use up things like meat, butter, flour, the tradition of Pancake Day began. Pancake Day, is the last day to use up these ingredients before the Lent season begins.
In my home province of Newfoundland, Canada, we have our own traditions on Pancake Day. There are Pancake Day Races, church breakfasts, etc. And just about every household I know participates in making and eating pancakes for the evening meal. However, there's a twist.
In Newfoundland, you are supposed to put trinkets into your pancake batter. Each trinket was symbolic of the future and it was so much fun as a child to try to find the trinket that you wanted. I carry this tradition with me wherever I go, and every year, on Pancake Day, I still make pancakes for my husband and me. The trinkets traditionally used were the following:
-- a penny, to symbolize poverty
-- a nickel, to symbolize wealth
-- a string, to symbolize a fisherman (if a boy got the string, he would be a fisherman, if a girl did, she would marry one)
-- a wedding ring, to symbolize that you would marry soon
-- a button, to symbolize that you would never marry
-- a nail, to symbolize that you would soon pass away
-- a thimble, to symbolize that you would be a seamstress (a girl) or a tailor (a boy)
In our house, my mom never included the nail when we were kids for fear that we would inadvertently bite it and harm ourselves. Consequently, as an adult, I've never put it in my batter. Not to mention it's a tad morbid too! Additionally, now that we have one and two dollar coins in Canada, folks generally shun the idea of the penny/nickel thing, and put in lots of money for people to find, sometimes up to $5 worth! As children, my sister and I used to consume far too many pancakes in search of the ring or the money, and we despised getting the button.
This year, I am especially blessed. Mom and my aunt are visiting me and they will be here to celebrate Pancake Day with us. We're figuring out what to put in the batter now. There'll most certainly be money and a button, a thimble and likely a ring. We will probably omit the nail and the string; we'll see. Either way, it promises to be an enjoyable tradition that I get to celebrate with my family.
There's one thing missing though: the knowledge that some day, I can pass these traditions on to my own children as my mom has done for me and my sister.
**Edited to add**
For those who might be wondering, I got $2.35 out of my pancakes.
In my home province of Newfoundland, Canada, we have our own traditions on Pancake Day. There are Pancake Day Races, church breakfasts, etc. And just about every household I know participates in making and eating pancakes for the evening meal. However, there's a twist.
In Newfoundland, you are supposed to put trinkets into your pancake batter. Each trinket was symbolic of the future and it was so much fun as a child to try to find the trinket that you wanted. I carry this tradition with me wherever I go, and every year, on Pancake Day, I still make pancakes for my husband and me. The trinkets traditionally used were the following:
-- a penny, to symbolize poverty
-- a nickel, to symbolize wealth
-- a string, to symbolize a fisherman (if a boy got the string, he would be a fisherman, if a girl did, she would marry one)
-- a wedding ring, to symbolize that you would marry soon
-- a button, to symbolize that you would never marry
-- a nail, to symbolize that you would soon pass away
-- a thimble, to symbolize that you would be a seamstress (a girl) or a tailor (a boy)
In our house, my mom never included the nail when we were kids for fear that we would inadvertently bite it and harm ourselves. Consequently, as an adult, I've never put it in my batter. Not to mention it's a tad morbid too! Additionally, now that we have one and two dollar coins in Canada, folks generally shun the idea of the penny/nickel thing, and put in lots of money for people to find, sometimes up to $5 worth! As children, my sister and I used to consume far too many pancakes in search of the ring or the money, and we despised getting the button.
This year, I am especially blessed. Mom and my aunt are visiting me and they will be here to celebrate Pancake Day with us. We're figuring out what to put in the batter now. There'll most certainly be money and a button, a thimble and likely a ring. We will probably omit the nail and the string; we'll see. Either way, it promises to be an enjoyable tradition that I get to celebrate with my family.
There's one thing missing though: the knowledge that some day, I can pass these traditions on to my own children as my mom has done for me and my sister.
**Edited to add**
For those who might be wondering, I got $2.35 out of my pancakes.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Reminiscing about Japan
In about 24 hours from now, I will be picking up my mom and my aunt at the airport. They're coming for 11 days for a bit of a holiday. Well, okay, their real motivating factor is to see Rod Stewart in concert next week. To heck with me. I'm just providing space to lay their heads! (Kidding! Kidding!) I always enjoy seeing family; I guess that comes from having been away from them for so long. From ages 19 to 22 I bounced back and forth to Saint Pierre et Miquelon, and then at age 23 (in 1993) I left Canada to go to Japan for three years. I haven't lived in my home province since then. Wow, that was almost 14 years ago. What happened? Where does the time go?
So much time has passed since then; I feel like that part of my life is almost like a dream. You see, while I was in Japan, I was dating a very handsome Japanese man (Yasuhiko is his name), and he and I were a couple for about three years. Even when I left Japan, we tried the long-distance thing for awhile, but neither of us knew when we would see the other, so after four or five months of that, we let it go.
But through all these years, Yasu and I have stayed in touch. We send e-mails now and then. We send Christmas cards (well, okay, he sends me Nenga-jou, or New Year's cards) and we keep each other updated on our lives. I even invited him (and a number of my Japanese friends with whom I still keep in touch) to hubby's and my wedding in 2004 but unfortunately he was unable to make it.
Each year, I get a card from him and I get to catch up on what he's doing. He told me when his mom passed away (I was blessed enough to meet his parents; a huge thing in Japan that is often a prelude to popping the question). He told me when his older brother (Hirohiko) got married. One year, a card arrived and he told me that he had gotten married to a lovely lady by the name of Chiemi.
This year, my Nenga-jou arrived shortly after the New Year, after hubby and I returned from our trip to Florida. Lo and behold, with that card was the announcement of the birth of their baby girl, born on Christmas Day 2006, and in typical Japanese fashion, imprinted on the card was a tiny picture of the baby.
For a split second, I stood in my kitchen and bit back the tears. Yasuhiko and I had talked about marrying and having children, all those years ago. But at that time, he wasn't ready to ask me to stay in Japan; he wasn't ready to pop the question, and before you can say "Gaijin" I had to be on a plane back to Canada before my visa ran out. I cried buckets of tears on that airplane, leaving him and Japan behind. So that dream never panned out and life moved on.
And now Yasuhiko and his wife have a beautiful little baby girl. And forgive me even saying this babe (I know hubby reads my blog) but one little tiny part of me had hoped that his children would have also been mine.
I'm thrilled for him of course. But this year, seeing my step-son at 11 years old and my step-daughter at 12, well, I wonder what would have happened if I'd stayed in Japan in 1996 instead of getting on that airplane.
Life leads us down many paths; I guess it's up to us to figure out why and to keep walking.
So much time has passed since then; I feel like that part of my life is almost like a dream. You see, while I was in Japan, I was dating a very handsome Japanese man (Yasuhiko is his name), and he and I were a couple for about three years. Even when I left Japan, we tried the long-distance thing for awhile, but neither of us knew when we would see the other, so after four or five months of that, we let it go.
But through all these years, Yasu and I have stayed in touch. We send e-mails now and then. We send Christmas cards (well, okay, he sends me Nenga-jou, or New Year's cards) and we keep each other updated on our lives. I even invited him (and a number of my Japanese friends with whom I still keep in touch) to hubby's and my wedding in 2004 but unfortunately he was unable to make it.
Each year, I get a card from him and I get to catch up on what he's doing. He told me when his mom passed away (I was blessed enough to meet his parents; a huge thing in Japan that is often a prelude to popping the question). He told me when his older brother (Hirohiko) got married. One year, a card arrived and he told me that he had gotten married to a lovely lady by the name of Chiemi.
This year, my Nenga-jou arrived shortly after the New Year, after hubby and I returned from our trip to Florida. Lo and behold, with that card was the announcement of the birth of their baby girl, born on Christmas Day 2006, and in typical Japanese fashion, imprinted on the card was a tiny picture of the baby.
For a split second, I stood in my kitchen and bit back the tears. Yasuhiko and I had talked about marrying and having children, all those years ago. But at that time, he wasn't ready to ask me to stay in Japan; he wasn't ready to pop the question, and before you can say "Gaijin" I had to be on a plane back to Canada before my visa ran out. I cried buckets of tears on that airplane, leaving him and Japan behind. So that dream never panned out and life moved on.
And now Yasuhiko and his wife have a beautiful little baby girl. And forgive me even saying this babe (I know hubby reads my blog) but one little tiny part of me had hoped that his children would have also been mine.
I'm thrilled for him of course. But this year, seeing my step-son at 11 years old and my step-daughter at 12, well, I wonder what would have happened if I'd stayed in Japan in 1996 instead of getting on that airplane.
Life leads us down many paths; I guess it's up to us to figure out why and to keep walking.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Finally, it's done!
So without further delay, here are the photos of the new and improved "room that shall not be named."
We started out by ripping up the baseboard and quarter round, and then hubby tore out the old, stained and icky parquet flooring. We screwed down the subfloor (because when the house was built, nails were used) and then I proceeded to paint all the walls. The colour is a Be.hr paint (Desert Moss, #360F-5) to match the colour of the suns, moons and stars in the curtains. Then we laid down the new laminate flooring (10mm, cherry) before we put down the new baseboard and quarter round. Then came the wainscot on the lower portion of the walls, and the chair rail capped it off. I caulked the edges, painted the trim/wainscot and voilà! All in all, it took us about two weeks to do, working at it in the evenings after work for a few hours a night.
What do you think?
Yes, that wind chime is from Japan. It's one of the many souvenirs that I brought back from my time over there. I think I have something from Japan in every room of the house!
Note: Just for reference, our house is a three-bedroom bungalow with a finished basement built in the mid '60s. So it's sturdy like nothing else, but it also means we're working with old framing.
On the fertility front, we're still on our self-imposed hiatus and the drug-free thing is superb. I am glad we are taking this time. Next cycle is the bloodwork; I'll skip it this month because my mom and aunt will be visiting at that time so I'll go deal with it next month. And then we'll cycle again. I have a much better outlook right now and I don't want to lose that in the spiral of depression that often occurs with IF. But trying to balance the age factor with needing some time off is a tough thing. Glad I have projects like this to keep me occupied!
Before I sign off, does anyone know how I can reach Flicka over at Vacant Uterus? She's gone PW-protected and if she'll let me, I'd love to continue reading. If you know how to reach her, please contact me (e-mail info in my profile) with her info and I'll get in touch with her. Thanks in advance!
We started out by ripping up the baseboard and quarter round, and then hubby tore out the old, stained and icky parquet flooring. We screwed down the subfloor (because when the house was built, nails were used) and then I proceeded to paint all the walls. The colour is a Be.hr paint (Desert Moss, #360F-5) to match the colour of the suns, moons and stars in the curtains. Then we laid down the new laminate flooring (10mm, cherry) before we put down the new baseboard and quarter round. Then came the wainscot on the lower portion of the walls, and the chair rail capped it off. I caulked the edges, painted the trim/wainscot and voilà! All in all, it took us about two weeks to do, working at it in the evenings after work for a few hours a night.
What do you think?
Yes, that wind chime is from Japan. It's one of the many souvenirs that I brought back from my time over there. I think I have something from Japan in every room of the house!
Note: Just for reference, our house is a three-bedroom bungalow with a finished basement built in the mid '60s. So it's sturdy like nothing else, but it also means we're working with old framing.
On the fertility front, we're still on our self-imposed hiatus and the drug-free thing is superb. I am glad we are taking this time. Next cycle is the bloodwork; I'll skip it this month because my mom and aunt will be visiting at that time so I'll go deal with it next month. And then we'll cycle again. I have a much better outlook right now and I don't want to lose that in the spiral of depression that often occurs with IF. But trying to balance the age factor with needing some time off is a tough thing. Glad I have projects like this to keep me occupied!
Before I sign off, does anyone know how I can reach Flicka over at Vacant Uterus? She's gone PW-protected and if she'll let me, I'd love to continue reading. If you know how to reach her, please contact me (e-mail info in my profile) with her info and I'll get in touch with her. Thanks in advance!
Friday, February 09, 2007
Pictures! (No, not the room... yet)
A few of you asked for updates on the room. Much to my chagrin, it's not QUITE finished. While I am definitely very ambitious, I am obviously not realistic! Apparently my dad thought I was "hiring" someone to do this work, and my sister was under the impression that I was taking time off work to do it all. No, gosh no. None of that! Tsk tsk! It's all my doing and it's being done every evening after I get off work. I'm plain tuckered out. But wow, the room is looking spectacular. I have a little more caulking to do tonight (I ran out of caulk last night) and then a last coat of paint on the wainscot to cover joints and nail hole fillings etc. One last going over with the dustcloth and I'll clean the windows and then it will be done. Before I reload the room, I'll take pics, I promise! Okay? Happy now?! Sheesh!
Though to appease you, I thought I'd put in some sort of pictures. These are two pics of my (fur) babies. Smudge (on the left) and Shadow are now the ripe old age of 11 years. I got them in the fall of 1995 while living in southern Japan and I brought them back to Canada with me in 1996 when I returned after three years in the Land of the Rising Sun. Even at age 11 they're still full of mischief and they are just gorgeous. And yes, if you are astute, you can see that the time on the digital box does indeed say "5:28"... that would be a.m. people. Hubby and I are up at 5 and I'm at my desk at 6:40 a.m. for my day. Ugh. On the bright side, we do get home by 3:30 p.m.! Okay, here you go... my "babies"...
P.S. To answer Shlomit, I work as a Senior Technical Writer–Editor (cum Translator) for... *whispers* the officers in red serge. Hubby is an IT support specialist and his shift is from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. Because he and I carpool (our offices are close) I get up to go with him at that unearthly hour. You do get used to it though; I love having my afternoons to run errands and such!
Though to appease you, I thought I'd put in some sort of pictures. These are two pics of my (fur) babies. Smudge (on the left) and Shadow are now the ripe old age of 11 years. I got them in the fall of 1995 while living in southern Japan and I brought them back to Canada with me in 1996 when I returned after three years in the Land of the Rising Sun. Even at age 11 they're still full of mischief and they are just gorgeous. And yes, if you are astute, you can see that the time on the digital box does indeed say "5:28"... that would be a.m. people. Hubby and I are up at 5 and I'm at my desk at 6:40 a.m. for my day. Ugh. On the bright side, we do get home by 3:30 p.m.! Okay, here you go... my "babies"...
P.S. To answer Shlomit, I work as a Senior Technical Writer–Editor (cum Translator) for... *whispers* the officers in red serge. Hubby is an IT support specialist and his shift is from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. Because he and I carpool (our offices are close) I get up to go with him at that unearthly hour. You do get used to it though; I love having my afternoons to run errands and such!
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
The Room That Shall Not Be Named
For the last few days, hubby and I have been busy every evening, up to our eyes in sawdust, woodworking tools, paint cans, measuring tapes... eeesh, I'm dizzy just thinking about it. Our goal is to strip and refinish "The Room That Shall Not Be Named" before Friday, February 2.
I bought the house in December of 2001, and hubby and I moved in in late January 2002. Shortly thereafter, my aunt, a seamstress by trade, worked her magic and made lovely curtains for all the bedrooms. In that room, I chose a beautiful green and yellow pattern; yellow stars, moons and suns on a green background, with flecks of yellow throughout.
The green and yellow was a no-brainer. You see, The Room has an intended purpose. Oh yes. And many of you infertiles know exactly what I'm talking about. It just screams "nursery" at me. In fact, that room was a major selling point of the house. Forget the fact that it has a large in-ground pool, or a huge finished basement, or any of the other good features. No no, it was The Room that really sealed the deal for me.
And because we have not yet had a child, The Room has been designated under many appellations. It's been called: the small guest room, J's room (when my stepson lived with us), the back bedroom, the white bedroom (originally I just whipped a coat of white paint on the previously grey walls), the room with the walk-in closet, etc. But never, ever, ever will I dare call it The Nur... well, you know. THAT name. So much like in the Har.ry Pot.ter films that refuse to utter the name of the bad guy, I've decided to give it the privilege of being called The Room That Shall Not Be Named.
Anyone who knows me knows darn well I will not, I absolutely refuse to, I positively despise putting pretty pink or pale blue on a room that will be used for that purpose. If ever I have the blessed opportunity to have a child, the room will be yellow, green and white. Crisp, classic, fresh colours. THAT is what I want in The Room. Thus, the green and yellow curtains that I so adore. Thank you Aunt B for those gorgeous curtains! *kisses*
Anyway, in refinishing The Room, we started out with the idea of putting in new laminate flooring. Then I thought if the floor is going to be done, we're going to be taking off the baseboard and quarter round. So, a great opportunity to finally get a nice coat of paint on the walls. To get rid of the bland, boring old white. Ugh. It needed a paint job long ago anyway. I took the material from the curtain and I went out to find a paint to match. Then I thought, well, it'd also be nice to go ahead and put on the white wainscoting that I'd wanted to have in The Room when it finally gets used for its intended purpose. I mean, why bother to do the floors and the paint and then put it all back together in order to tear it apart again in the future? So I bought the wainscoting.
And the renovation work begain. Off came the baseboard and quarter round. Hubby pried up the old and damaged parquet flooring. I've put on the two coats of paint on the full wall, and painted the wainscoting. Tonight, we lay the laminate and either tonight or tomorrow we put up the baseboard, wainscoting, chair rail and quarter round. Put up the curtains again (the inspiration for the whole room) and load in the furniture again. Voilà. New room to enjoy.
In considering whether I would even tackle the work, I wondered why, oh why would I deprive my guests and my own family of having a beautiful room to enjoy? I just think it's a little silly to sit and wait; to count on something that I am never certain about and hold off those plans until... well... heavens knows when, right? Life goes on. I have to live for today and enjoy my surroundings today instead of pinning my hopes on all that. I cannot let it control my life. I didn't want to jinx it before, but you know, I can't think that way any longer. Part of taking stock of my life I guess and moving forward for now, until I cycle again.
And why do we have to do all this before Friday, you ask? Because my stepson will be 11 years old on Thursday. (Side note: I was introduced to him when he was four, almost five, and his sister was six at the time.) And on Friday, hubby and I are going with nine of our friends and their children to a junior hockey game. After the game, three of the kids will be having a sleepover at our house so I'd love to put the room to use. Worst case scenario, they will bunk on the living room floor in front of the fireplace and watch TV and play video games or whatever floats their boat. Besides, it needs to be done before the end of February because Aunt B and my mom are coming to visit for 10 days. And they deserve to enjoy a beautiful room too.
Sending hugs to
Katd over at They Grow in Your Heart. She and her husband are waiting for news from their adoption agency about the birth mother who was matched to them. The birth mother is due this week, but they've not heard from her in awhile and are wondering whether their adoption will take place at all, or whether luck will fall in their laps and everything will go as originally intended. Keep us posted katd. May good things come to you!
**Edited to add**
Ah ha! Caught ya! By the looks of things, I'm not the only one out there with a Room that shall not be named! You guys seem to have them too; I knew I wasn't alone. So I'm opening up comments to you to tell me about your "Room" and what you use it for now, what you would like to do with it, colours, styles, anything at all. Share. :)
I bought the house in December of 2001, and hubby and I moved in in late January 2002. Shortly thereafter, my aunt, a seamstress by trade, worked her magic and made lovely curtains for all the bedrooms. In that room, I chose a beautiful green and yellow pattern; yellow stars, moons and suns on a green background, with flecks of yellow throughout.
The green and yellow was a no-brainer. You see, The Room has an intended purpose. Oh yes. And many of you infertiles know exactly what I'm talking about. It just screams "nursery" at me. In fact, that room was a major selling point of the house. Forget the fact that it has a large in-ground pool, or a huge finished basement, or any of the other good features. No no, it was The Room that really sealed the deal for me.
And because we have not yet had a child, The Room has been designated under many appellations. It's been called: the small guest room, J's room (when my stepson lived with us), the back bedroom, the white bedroom (originally I just whipped a coat of white paint on the previously grey walls), the room with the walk-in closet, etc. But never, ever, ever will I dare call it The Nur... well, you know. THAT name. So much like in the Har.ry Pot.ter films that refuse to utter the name of the bad guy, I've decided to give it the privilege of being called The Room That Shall Not Be Named.
Anyone who knows me knows darn well I will not, I absolutely refuse to, I positively despise putting pretty pink or pale blue on a room that will be used for that purpose. If ever I have the blessed opportunity to have a child, the room will be yellow, green and white. Crisp, classic, fresh colours. THAT is what I want in The Room. Thus, the green and yellow curtains that I so adore. Thank you Aunt B for those gorgeous curtains! *kisses*
Anyway, in refinishing The Room, we started out with the idea of putting in new laminate flooring. Then I thought if the floor is going to be done, we're going to be taking off the baseboard and quarter round. So, a great opportunity to finally get a nice coat of paint on the walls. To get rid of the bland, boring old white. Ugh. It needed a paint job long ago anyway. I took the material from the curtain and I went out to find a paint to match. Then I thought, well, it'd also be nice to go ahead and put on the white wainscoting that I'd wanted to have in The Room when it finally gets used for its intended purpose. I mean, why bother to do the floors and the paint and then put it all back together in order to tear it apart again in the future? So I bought the wainscoting.
And the renovation work begain. Off came the baseboard and quarter round. Hubby pried up the old and damaged parquet flooring. I've put on the two coats of paint on the full wall, and painted the wainscoting. Tonight, we lay the laminate and either tonight or tomorrow we put up the baseboard, wainscoting, chair rail and quarter round. Put up the curtains again (the inspiration for the whole room) and load in the furniture again. Voilà. New room to enjoy.
In considering whether I would even tackle the work, I wondered why, oh why would I deprive my guests and my own family of having a beautiful room to enjoy? I just think it's a little silly to sit and wait; to count on something that I am never certain about and hold off those plans until... well... heavens knows when, right? Life goes on. I have to live for today and enjoy my surroundings today instead of pinning my hopes on all that. I cannot let it control my life. I didn't want to jinx it before, but you know, I can't think that way any longer. Part of taking stock of my life I guess and moving forward for now, until I cycle again.
And why do we have to do all this before Friday, you ask? Because my stepson will be 11 years old on Thursday. (Side note: I was introduced to him when he was four, almost five, and his sister was six at the time.) And on Friday, hubby and I are going with nine of our friends and their children to a junior hockey game. After the game, three of the kids will be having a sleepover at our house so I'd love to put the room to use. Worst case scenario, they will bunk on the living room floor in front of the fireplace and watch TV and play video games or whatever floats their boat. Besides, it needs to be done before the end of February because Aunt B and my mom are coming to visit for 10 days. And they deserve to enjoy a beautiful room too.
Sending hugs to
Katd over at They Grow in Your Heart. She and her husband are waiting for news from their adoption agency about the birth mother who was matched to them. The birth mother is due this week, but they've not heard from her in awhile and are wondering whether their adoption will take place at all, or whether luck will fall in their laps and everything will go as originally intended. Keep us posted katd. May good things come to you!
**Edited to add**
Ah ha! Caught ya! By the looks of things, I'm not the only one out there with a Room that shall not be named! You guys seem to have them too; I knew I wasn't alone. So I'm opening up comments to you to tell me about your "Room" and what you use it for now, what you would like to do with it, colours, styles, anything at all. Share. :)
Monday, January 29, 2007
Jessica's Story
In my meanderings of various IF blogs, I came across one the other day that just broke my heart. Let me tell you a story...
This is the story of Jessica. She is a 24-year old mother of a young toddler, and experiencing secondary infertility. She has a full-time job and juggles many things as we all do. Her husband, Jason, works full-time as well and they are working on expanding their family, as young couples do.
Jessica called home the other day, and chatted with her husband. He was marinating meat for dinner, he was going to pick up their son from daycare and he would see her when she got home. He told her that he loved her. A little later, she called again because she was doing their taxes and had a question for him. No answer; she thought he was avoiding her. She called again and again. No answer. After work, she picked up their son from daycare and she went home... to a darkened foyer. No husband. No message. Nothing.
A friend of hers came over; Jason had been in an accident and it was bad. They drove her to the hospital, where she soon learned that at 3:38 that afternoon, her beloved husband Jason was taken from her. An accident had claimed his life and he was gone. She is now left to raise their son and somehow find her way in the world.
My thoughts turned towards Jessica and their young son. She is a widow at the tender age of 24. She has to make her way now, without her husband by her side. And then, what of their plans? What becomes of their hopes and dreams? Of their aspirations to add to their family? What sort of plan will she have now for her life? Can she create one or even envisage one without Jason next to her? What happened to the "growing old together" part of their story?
I cannot fathom the pain and grief that Jessica must be going through. And her story made me stop and think; what if? What if (God forbid) something happened to my husband? Where would I be? How would I go on? What path would my life take then? Specifically with regards to the IF treatment we are undergoing, would I continue?
I spoke of this to my husband, relating Jessica's story to him. His first thought was, "Well, you'd have the insurance money." Good Lord! To h*ll with the money! That would be the last thing I'd consider. Fine enough, but what would I do about our treatments? Would I continue? Would I forge ahead and try (at going on 37 years old) to have a child and raise him/her as a single mother? Would I let go of the idea of having children altogether? Would I hope that somewhere down the line I would have someone else in my life with whom I would try to start a family? What would I do?
Hubby gently reminded me that the IF treatment we are undergoing is because of his vasectomy and failed reversal. There is no indication that I cannot get pregnant, we just need good swimmers to do the job (thus our decision to move down our path using donor sperm). So hubby mentioned that he thought I would find someone else with whom I would start a family. I don't know that I could or would do that though. Who is to say? Maybe that would never happen. Maybe I wouldn't find anyone to share my life with. For the moment, I just give thanks that I am lucky enough to have a good man who loves me tremendously. I have him by my side as we travel this road and I am grateful for the love that we share.
I guess Jessica's story just brings to mind the harsh reality that life throws at us sometimes. It makes us think and consider "what ifs" because we are only human, and "what ifs" can and do happen. Have you considered your "what if"?
My heart aches for Jessica and all the infertiles that are faced with a sudden loss that turns their world upside down. My thoughts are with you at such a traumatic time, and I can only hope that one day, you find peace.
This is the story of Jessica. She is a 24-year old mother of a young toddler, and experiencing secondary infertility. She has a full-time job and juggles many things as we all do. Her husband, Jason, works full-time as well and they are working on expanding their family, as young couples do.
Jessica called home the other day, and chatted with her husband. He was marinating meat for dinner, he was going to pick up their son from daycare and he would see her when she got home. He told her that he loved her. A little later, she called again because she was doing their taxes and had a question for him. No answer; she thought he was avoiding her. She called again and again. No answer. After work, she picked up their son from daycare and she went home... to a darkened foyer. No husband. No message. Nothing.
A friend of hers came over; Jason had been in an accident and it was bad. They drove her to the hospital, where she soon learned that at 3:38 that afternoon, her beloved husband Jason was taken from her. An accident had claimed his life and he was gone. She is now left to raise their son and somehow find her way in the world.
My thoughts turned towards Jessica and their young son. She is a widow at the tender age of 24. She has to make her way now, without her husband by her side. And then, what of their plans? What becomes of their hopes and dreams? Of their aspirations to add to their family? What sort of plan will she have now for her life? Can she create one or even envisage one without Jason next to her? What happened to the "growing old together" part of their story?
I cannot fathom the pain and grief that Jessica must be going through. And her story made me stop and think; what if? What if (God forbid) something happened to my husband? Where would I be? How would I go on? What path would my life take then? Specifically with regards to the IF treatment we are undergoing, would I continue?
I spoke of this to my husband, relating Jessica's story to him. His first thought was, "Well, you'd have the insurance money." Good Lord! To h*ll with the money! That would be the last thing I'd consider. Fine enough, but what would I do about our treatments? Would I continue? Would I forge ahead and try (at going on 37 years old) to have a child and raise him/her as a single mother? Would I let go of the idea of having children altogether? Would I hope that somewhere down the line I would have someone else in my life with whom I would try to start a family? What would I do?
Hubby gently reminded me that the IF treatment we are undergoing is because of his vasectomy and failed reversal. There is no indication that I cannot get pregnant, we just need good swimmers to do the job (thus our decision to move down our path using donor sperm). So hubby mentioned that he thought I would find someone else with whom I would start a family. I don't know that I could or would do that though. Who is to say? Maybe that would never happen. Maybe I wouldn't find anyone to share my life with. For the moment, I just give thanks that I am lucky enough to have a good man who loves me tremendously. I have him by my side as we travel this road and I am grateful for the love that we share.
I guess Jessica's story just brings to mind the harsh reality that life throws at us sometimes. It makes us think and consider "what ifs" because we are only human, and "what ifs" can and do happen. Have you considered your "what if"?
My heart aches for Jessica and all the infertiles that are faced with a sudden loss that turns their world upside down. My thoughts are with you at such a traumatic time, and I can only hope that one day, you find peace.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
The Third Sex
I have been mulling over something that the IF blogosphere has been discussing lately. A few days ago, Mel at Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters brought the topic of femininity to the forefront.
I trembled as I read her words. My eyes welled with tears. She perfectly expressed my feelings of doubt and insecurity about my own femininity. I actually copied a portion of it and sent it to hubby, with the link to Mel's blog to read the whole entry. Below is a relevant excerpt from her blog (with minor editorial changes).
I feel disconnected from my uterus. When I look at all the parts that make me a woman--my breasts and my uterus, my ovaries and my cervix--I don't feel very feminine.
I think what I was coveting wasn't (my friend’s) pregnancy or this particular baby. What I was coveting in the moment was her fertility. Her ability to get pregnant while on birth control. A femininity so ferocious that it knocks synthetic hormones out of the way in order to utilize her ovaries and uterus. That is a f*cking woman and watch her body roar. And after she gives birth, she will use her breasts to feed the baby. She will utilize every part that makes her a woman.
From my point of view, despite everything happening in her body, she is hyperfertile. And it's her fertility that makes her feminine. It makes her a woman. And it is what makes me feel like a third sex. Certainly not male, but not female either.
On my wedding day, I felt like such a woman in that white gown. I felt so feminine and pretty. On my wedding day, I thought I would be pregnant within the year. I walked through that day with so much confidence--with so much femininity--my womanhood on my sleeve. I want to get back to that day when I felt sexual and sensual.
I don't want someone else to make me feel feminine or tell me that I am feminine. I want to feel feminine. I want to feel like a woman.
I can relate to these emotions all too well. To my surprise though, there are many women in the IF world that feel the same way. The question remains though: why do we equate the ability to bear children with our femininity? Rather perplexing, isn't it?
But it's so true. I certainly don't feel male, but not quite female either. Like I'm somewhere in between. I have lost that feminine self-confidence that I once had. I don't feel feminine anymore. I don't feel like a woman. While I want to feel that again, I'm not sure how.
I don't think that anything external can give me that feeling back. I can't put on a fancy dress and makeup, have my hair and nails done and "feel" any more feminine. A chick flick doesn't do it. Not even a night with my girlfriends makes me feel feminine. Sweet nothings whispered in my ear wouldn't do it. Compliments galore wouldn't give that feeling to me. It comes from inside I think. But I think that part of me is gone. Can you get it back? How do you feel feminine? What makes a woman?
I trembled as I read her words. My eyes welled with tears. She perfectly expressed my feelings of doubt and insecurity about my own femininity. I actually copied a portion of it and sent it to hubby, with the link to Mel's blog to read the whole entry. Below is a relevant excerpt from her blog (with minor editorial changes).
I feel disconnected from my uterus. When I look at all the parts that make me a woman--my breasts and my uterus, my ovaries and my cervix--I don't feel very feminine.
I think what I was coveting wasn't (my friend’s) pregnancy or this particular baby. What I was coveting in the moment was her fertility. Her ability to get pregnant while on birth control. A femininity so ferocious that it knocks synthetic hormones out of the way in order to utilize her ovaries and uterus. That is a f*cking woman and watch her body roar. And after she gives birth, she will use her breasts to feed the baby. She will utilize every part that makes her a woman.
From my point of view, despite everything happening in her body, she is hyperfertile. And it's her fertility that makes her feminine. It makes her a woman. And it is what makes me feel like a third sex. Certainly not male, but not female either.
On my wedding day, I felt like such a woman in that white gown. I felt so feminine and pretty. On my wedding day, I thought I would be pregnant within the year. I walked through that day with so much confidence--with so much femininity--my womanhood on my sleeve. I want to get back to that day when I felt sexual and sensual.
I don't want someone else to make me feel feminine or tell me that I am feminine. I want to feel feminine. I want to feel like a woman.
I can relate to these emotions all too well. To my surprise though, there are many women in the IF world that feel the same way. The question remains though: why do we equate the ability to bear children with our femininity? Rather perplexing, isn't it?
But it's so true. I certainly don't feel male, but not quite female either. Like I'm somewhere in between. I have lost that feminine self-confidence that I once had. I don't feel feminine anymore. I don't feel like a woman. While I want to feel that again, I'm not sure how.
I don't think that anything external can give me that feeling back. I can't put on a fancy dress and makeup, have my hair and nails done and "feel" any more feminine. A chick flick doesn't do it. Not even a night with my girlfriends makes me feel feminine. Sweet nothings whispered in my ear wouldn't do it. Compliments galore wouldn't give that feeling to me. It comes from inside I think. But I think that part of me is gone. Can you get it back? How do you feel feminine? What makes a woman?
Monday, January 22, 2007
Ah ha... that's it!
Today, I write of a revelation of sorts.
I think, in the end, the only thing that might stand in our way *crosses fingers* is that I may merely be Sperm Deficient. Wouldn't it be nice if that was our only problem?
I think, in the end, the only thing that might stand in our way *crosses fingers* is that I may merely be Sperm Deficient. Wouldn't it be nice if that was our only problem?
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Mundane and yet, not so mundane
There are a few things I need to write about today. Some days I have absolutely nothing to add, but once in awhile, there comes a day that just screams at me, "Write it down!"
There's mundane stuff.
I got a call from my RE's office and the receptionist will pop both CD3 and CD23 bloodwork in the mail to me. Superb! NOT. Twice the blood to take. Ugh. Again, the list for CD23 is rather daunting. They'll be checking glucose, hemoglobin, w.b.c. count, FSH, LH, TSH, T4/T3, Prolactin, Estradiol, Progesterone, Free testosterone, DHEAS, Feratin, Folate, Vit. B12, Insulin and for kicks, BHCG. I rather find that last one funny, don't you? *cue hysterical laughter* Oh my. Quite the sense of humour there! Hee hee!
So I'll have that bloodwork done (with the assistance Lorazepam) between now and whenever hubby and I are ready to try again. The receptionist also told me that when that time comes, call them on CD1. She'll have a prescription for Serophene (Clomid) at the pharmacy for me, and book me for a CD8 u/s to start the injectables. That was a decision hubby and I wanted to discuss too; whether we'd go the injectable route again. Insurance does cover it and it can't hurt, so why not? I mean, other than the fact that I'll be sticking myself with needles every morning again, but hey, we all get used to that, don't we? Seriously. It happens all the time in the TTC community. But do you ever really get used to doing that? And do you ever stop focussing on the reason you're doing that in the first place? Emotionally, it pulls at you every d*mn day. It does for me anyway. Maybe I'm just the weirdo in the mix though. *shrugs* God only knows. Anyway, hubby and I decided that yes, we'll go the injectables route again, combined with the Clomid and the donor. And we'll hope for a better result next time.
And the not so mundane stuff.
One of our good friends made a comment in my blog that really hit home.
"Do put everything that you can into (your goals and dreams) but don't put everything that you are in them." I think that is something many of us need to figure out. How far to go, when to draw the line, and when to realize that you begin to lose yourself along the way and it's time to take it back.
Realistically speaking, not all my goals and dreams can or will come true. And at the end of the day, I have to live with myself and who I am inside. If I make my life completely IF-focussed, I lose so much of who I am as a person. To do that would mean I would discount the fact that I've done and seen so very much in this world that many people never have the opportunity to do or see. I would toss away the fact that I am blessed to have a loving, caring husband who would give me the moon if he could and for whom I would readily give my life if I had to. I would not consider the fact that I'm a sensible, capable woman who is an independent, productive member of society. I would forget the fact that I have a wonderful family and many friends who love me very much and want nothing but the best for me. I would ignore that I am a sensitive, sympathetic, generous person who tries to do her best in just about everything. None of those wonderful things would be a part of me if I lose myself in the IF world. And I'm not willing to let those great things go.
My sister wrote me an e-mail awhile ago (I saved it sis; forgive me?!) when I posted about being a failure at this IF journey. And I'm going to take the liberty to reprint it here for you.
I was so mad when I read your message! Raging mad! You are NOT a failure! Anyone that has family and friends who love them as much as yours do is NOT a failure. I repeat - NOT a failure. You are far from it. You're intelligent, witty, charismatic, caring, generous, hard-working (I could
go on and on for years). You may not have had any success with getting pregnant but that does not constitute a failure - in any way. Do you understand what I am saying to you? You are exploring all your options and doing everything you can to conceive a child - that does not reflect someone who is a failure. So get that stoooopid idea out of your head right now and get on with it. Yes, you're allowed to cry mope around for a while, but that's it! You don't have the luxury of giving up and being a depressed lump! That is not who you are - I know it because I've known you your whole life - don't forget! I may be younger than you but I know a thing or two as well, and sometimes you have to listen to me for a change. Got it?
Yup. I got it. Thanks sis. I needed that. For those moments when I feel like I need a kick in the pants or I just need to remember that so many people do care about me, and that IF is not all that I am, I kept this message and I read it.
So for those of you who "get it" or "need to get it," there you go. Straight from the mouth of my sister.
There's mundane stuff.
I got a call from my RE's office and the receptionist will pop both CD3 and CD23 bloodwork in the mail to me. Superb! NOT. Twice the blood to take. Ugh. Again, the list for CD23 is rather daunting. They'll be checking glucose, hemoglobin, w.b.c. count, FSH, LH, TSH, T4/T3, Prolactin, Estradiol, Progesterone, Free testosterone, DHEAS, Feratin, Folate, Vit. B12, Insulin and for kicks, BHCG. I rather find that last one funny, don't you? *cue hysterical laughter* Oh my. Quite the sense of humour there! Hee hee!
So I'll have that bloodwork done (with the assistance Lorazepam) between now and whenever hubby and I are ready to try again. The receptionist also told me that when that time comes, call them on CD1. She'll have a prescription for Serophene (Clomid) at the pharmacy for me, and book me for a CD8 u/s to start the injectables. That was a decision hubby and I wanted to discuss too; whether we'd go the injectable route again. Insurance does cover it and it can't hurt, so why not? I mean, other than the fact that I'll be sticking myself with needles every morning again, but hey, we all get used to that, don't we? Seriously. It happens all the time in the TTC community. But do you ever really get used to doing that? And do you ever stop focussing on the reason you're doing that in the first place? Emotionally, it pulls at you every d*mn day. It does for me anyway. Maybe I'm just the weirdo in the mix though. *shrugs* God only knows. Anyway, hubby and I decided that yes, we'll go the injectables route again, combined with the Clomid and the donor. And we'll hope for a better result next time.
And the not so mundane stuff.
One of our good friends made a comment in my blog that really hit home.
"Do put everything that you can into (your goals and dreams) but don't put everything that you are in them." I think that is something many of us need to figure out. How far to go, when to draw the line, and when to realize that you begin to lose yourself along the way and it's time to take it back.
Realistically speaking, not all my goals and dreams can or will come true. And at the end of the day, I have to live with myself and who I am inside. If I make my life completely IF-focussed, I lose so much of who I am as a person. To do that would mean I would discount the fact that I've done and seen so very much in this world that many people never have the opportunity to do or see. I would toss away the fact that I am blessed to have a loving, caring husband who would give me the moon if he could and for whom I would readily give my life if I had to. I would not consider the fact that I'm a sensible, capable woman who is an independent, productive member of society. I would forget the fact that I have a wonderful family and many friends who love me very much and want nothing but the best for me. I would ignore that I am a sensitive, sympathetic, generous person who tries to do her best in just about everything. None of those wonderful things would be a part of me if I lose myself in the IF world. And I'm not willing to let those great things go.
My sister wrote me an e-mail awhile ago (I saved it sis; forgive me?!) when I posted about being a failure at this IF journey. And I'm going to take the liberty to reprint it here for you.
I was so mad when I read your message! Raging mad! You are NOT a failure! Anyone that has family and friends who love them as much as yours do is NOT a failure. I repeat - NOT a failure. You are far from it. You're intelligent, witty, charismatic, caring, generous, hard-working (I could
go on and on for years). You may not have had any success with getting pregnant but that does not constitute a failure - in any way. Do you understand what I am saying to you? You are exploring all your options and doing everything you can to conceive a child - that does not reflect someone who is a failure. So get that stoooopid idea out of your head right now and get on with it. Yes, you're allowed to cry mope around for a while, but that's it! You don't have the luxury of giving up and being a depressed lump! That is not who you are - I know it because I've known you your whole life - don't forget! I may be younger than you but I know a thing or two as well, and sometimes you have to listen to me for a change. Got it?
Yup. I got it. Thanks sis. I needed that. For those moments when I feel like I need a kick in the pants or I just need to remember that so many people do care about me, and that IF is not all that I am, I kept this message and I read it.
So for those of you who "get it" or "need to get it," there you go. Straight from the mouth of my sister.
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