Thursday, January 9, 2014
Yesterday was my birthday. In true birthday form, I was in tears before 7am, driving along on my way to work and crying because I had, stupidly, peed on an hcg stick before leaving and it was, naturally, negative with no chance of there being any sort of trace of hcg anywhere. Never mind the lingering concept of knowing that this is not where I wanted to be at 31 nor did I ever expect to be here. Forget the fact that I am being pumped full of the 'mones and am therefore about a billion percent more emotional than normal. Nope, the tears were brought on by my full-on stupidity of peeing on a godforsaken stick before I went to work on the day of my birthday, 6 days post frozen transfer.
By the time I arrived at work, I'd already screwed up my makeup and my entire day. My boss fully forgot my birthday (again) which is fine, it's a week after New Year's, I don't expect anyone to care or remember when I go out of my way to make everyone else's birthdays special (hello, bitter? party of one). The Facebook notos flooded in but really, do any of those people give a shit? And how much has Facebook ruined our culture, by the way, when my own mother and brother thought a simple post on my wall was going to suffice?
Yes, I'm full of self-pity mixed with wallowing over the probability of another negative beta mixed with self-sabotage from forcing the negative test upon myself. Luckily the boys I watch were sweet as pie all day, making me toy cakes and just as I was about to "blow them out" saying, "No no, it's not ready yet" and running to grab some other drool and snot covered toy to add. The stress of the day must've shown on my face because one of the 2 year olds looked at me while I was changing his diaper and asked, "Are you otay, (my name)?" I nearly lost it right there but just planted as many kisses and hugs upon him as he would allow before running off to be a race car.
I work long hours on Wednesdays but this day, somehow, mercifully went by at a bearable speed and by the time I got home, I just wanted to curl up with my dogs and my husband and cry. The fact that there were NO birthday cards in the mailbox ensured plenty of tears by the time the dogs greeted me (yes, I'm a spoiled brat, but it was my birthday and I will cry if I need to). My grandmother, who is 90 and is always ever so punctual with a card and a check for any occasion, is in the hospital so the disappointment of not having a card was then replaced with guilt for being so self-centered when my grandmother is sick, cue more tears.
By the time Husband walked through the door - with an embarrassingly large bouquet of flowers - I was a balled up, bawling mess on the floor next to the dog bed. Husband is ever the optimist about our infertility battle so he simply held me and told me I was being dumb about the testing, then he said something that really broke me, he said, "don't you think I blame myself for this every day?" Great. At this point I think I had cried myself into a lower immune system and all of the snots and coughs and grossness the kids I watch have rained upon me for the past two weeks caught up with me and I became sick within literally minutes of my husband coming home. Because, why not? It's my birthday, dammit. Let's cap off a fantastic day with an annoying cold and no appetite. Wah wah wah.
Now I am here all stuffy and gross, supposed to be renewing my driver's license with THE hottest DMV photo of all time. Looks like I'm driving without a license til next week.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Every time - and I mean EVERY.TIME. - I try to come up with a mantra for yoga or meditation, I can only think of either Grandmother Willow in Pocahontas ("Que, que naturah, you will understand") or, and this is silly, but I am a Beatles fan, George Harrison had a hand in a nice version of a Hare Krishna chant ("Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, hare hare/ hare Rama, hare Rama, Rama Rama, hare hare"). Neither of which means dick to me or my journey, so I always end up either counting breaths or doing what my mom taught me as a very young child, which is to visualize breathing "in with the good, out with the bad": simple but somewhat effective.
Well since I'm on my quest to be more zen and am also in the two week wait once again - how is that for a test of wills, by the way? For the beginning of my quest to coincide with the wait?* - I downloaded some regular meditation podcasts and one fertility mediation podcast which I really enjoyed the episodes I tried out. The first one introduced the mantra, "I let go, it is beyond my control". How simple is that? How perfect is that for infertility? Pretty perfect if you think about the way a mantra is supposed to work, that's to say, if you really stick with it, you can in fact make a change in your thinking and train your brain to release control. I know it's not for everyone but for me, it's better than those "ohm shanti shanti shanti ohm" ones, which are effective as well but don't mean much to me.
*I realize I used "quest" twice and that's bad form for creative writing but I just love the word and it makes me feel like Atreyu whenever I use. If you aren't down with Atreyu, don't even think you're down with me.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Monday, December 16, 2013
Being aware of the anger and having an idea of where it stems from is all well and good, but how to let go? For some reason, I thought perhaps the teachings of Buddha would help me. I have no idea what brought this on or why I knew to turn to Buddhism, but I did and for the time being, I feel slightly at peace, although I know that I have a very long way to go and will need many, many reminders along the way. I thought I'd share something I read before bed last night from "Buddha In Blue Jeans" by the poet and Zen priest, Tai Sheridan:
Please accept natural pain.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
That's pretty much all. I have gone shopping and gotten some gifts for people but mostly ended up with more stuff for me (because I'm buying my happiness right now until I have a child). I was also ordering some stuff from Amazon and making my Christmas wish list and I found my old Amazon Wish list that I made so long ago with Patriots maternity shirts and little Patriots onesies and some ornaments that I would've used to announce my pregnant to my parents, if the timing ever lined up. Delete. Oh to be that fucking optimistic again.
Now the idea of a Christmas at my parents house with no kids, the first year without our family dog and with no good news to share, and with no husband as usual as he has to work holidays; it's enough to make me want to crawl under the covers and not come out until January. Although early January brings my 31st birthday and another depressing milestone without kids.
Sorry to be a Debbie Downer and venting, I've actually been feeling pretty great and having a great time just not being consumed with IF/IVF for a bit but when it comes to the holiday season, I can't. And don't even get me started on the excessive family holiday posting on Facebook that has started already. How much can you honestly be enjoying taking your kid to see Santa if you're spending the whole time Facebooking about it? Like I said, Bah freaking Humbug.