Make Room for Both

I've had several moments lately where I have felt the pain of my childlessness. 

When it happens, I let myself feel it. It's a deep pain and I don't know a salve. I just feel it when it comes and ride it out like a wave. I don't judge myself. I don't feel stupid for still feeling sad.

If I'm being totally honest, nowadays I feel proud of myself. I *know* how sad I used to feel all of the time, and it is so awesome that I experience so much joy in the little things now.

For example, I'm so truly happy to go to work and see my co-workers that I try to tone it down haha. It's not like I can tell everyone how sad I've been and what darkness I've overcome and now I'm just so content to show up for my jobs and my life. But it shows. I know it does. 

I feel like a weird happy girl who's obviously been through some shit.

But I'm genuine. I'm not here to be fake. Or to give unsolicited advice. 

I just like to talk. I like to visit about whatever people are into. Weather, recipes, and pets are always safe topics. But I love to hear what people like to do for fun. I like to hear about anything they are working toward. I just really like hanging out--talking with and listening to people.

As a woman (or a person?), that means I end up talking to a lot of mothers. Even though I'm no longer teaching or working in pediatrics, other people's motherhood is still within the realm of my experience. A lot of women have children. 

And it's awesome (and a miracle?) that I no longer live in a place of constant pain. 

However, every now and then, I notice a cumulative effect of interacting with others who got to be parents and feel sad. That happened this week and I felt it. 

I'm glad I can recognize it now. As with a lot of things, it gets better with practice and experience. I knew I had been around a couple of situations and a couple of conversations at a time when I was feeling more sensitive than usual, and, yep, I felt sad.

I had a good cry mid-week. I felt some relief afterwards, but it sucked feeling it and crying it out.

Anyway, all that rambling to say:

• Sometimes what hurts us, well... It hurts.
• That's okay.
• Feel the hurt.
• Don't stay there.
• Move through it.
• That part kinda sucks because it hurts to feel it.
• Make room for sadness and happiness because both can exist.

*****

Contributing to my good cry-- I've also been anxious for the last couple of weeks. I leave for a trip tomorrow. I don't like to travel, but I appreciate it. I live in the middle of nowhere, so traveling enables me to see family and friends. However, I like living in the middle of nowhere :) so it takes a lot of energy for me to pack and leave my house. I am so comfortable here at home. ;)

Important Annual Exams

Here's your friendly reminder to get your annual exams done. 

I got a mammogram earlier this week. I scheduled it back in January after my annual exam. I don't like doctor's appointments (who does?), but they're important. Early detection can affect the prognosis. Mammograms are kind of awkward, but all of my experiences have been very positive. The technicians have all been nice, friendly, gentle, and knowledgeable women. It doesn't hurt. You just make the appointment, go to it, and then you're done. 

I've had a couple of follow-up ultrasounds, which made me nervous of course. But it's good to get stuff checked out. Modern medicine knows how to take care of so many things now. 

Go ahead and take care of yourself.

I'm also due for my first colonoscopy. I will make that appointment, but one thing at a time. 

I get overwhelmed medically somewhat easily. I've always been a nervous patient and then infertility didn't help. But whenever I'm nervous or scared, I remember what all I've survived. 

Then, I still feel nervous or scared, but I do it anyway. :)

Picture retrieved from istockphoto.com

(M)Other's Day Next Month

I just learned about this awesome sounding event in Chicago next month. It's called The Other's Day Brunch. I can't go this year, but I'd honestly/seriously like to go next year. Make a trip out of it. My boyfriend likes Chicago. I've been a couple of times. Do some shopping (maybe) and eat some good food (definitely). See some sites. And go to this brunch! Why not? One of my favorite strategies in life is to have things to look forward to.

I can't go to the Other's Day Brunch this year. I already have Mother's Day plans. Sigh... 

For years, Mother's Day was on the forefront of my radar screen and I made sure to stay home that day. I didn't want to go out to eat or even run errands. I could not handle anyone wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. I just stayed home and ordered pizza instead.

Over time, Mother's Day dropped off my radar screen. Some years I forgot about it completely. And now I just don't care. I don't feel bad or sad or bitter. I just don't care.

But we'll see how I feel this year... 

Because this year I will be on vacation with my parents and sisters. One of my sisters lives in a tourist town, so it's a great place for us to meet to visit. My mother is very excited about going out for a Mother's Day lunch. She is calling the whole trip her Mother's Day Weekend trip, which, sure, I guess it is. She's a mom and she'll get to spend Mother's Day weekend with her three adult daughters. That is something to celebrate, and I am not being sarcastic.

So I actually have Mother's Day plans this year, but I really want to go to brunch in Chicago next year! This year should be fine though. I think I'm going in with the right attitude. I will be there to celebrate my family's health and our ability to get together. I don't expect anyone to think twice about what the day might mean to me. If any strong feelings arise, I will tuck them safely away and feel them later when I'm by myself... Preferably on the beach. :)

Picture found here https://www.franklinarts.com/blog/entry/summer-beaches

After Ten Years

Making sense of things was a privilege I had before enduring infertility. 

The illusion of certainty, of logic being ever-present, of things working out are long, long, long gone.

I have no hope and very rarely use the word anymore.

This foundational shift in my existence prepared me to handle a pandemic. The shattering of my beliefs is helping me live alongside whatever the hateful hell is going on around me. 

But this blog has never been about the bigger picture. It's always been about me and my little life and how I dealt with what was the worst thing I could ever imagine (i.e., not getting to be a mom).

I'm okay. My little life is okay. I don't know about the future. I have no clue. I feel secure with my house, but, considering all of my jobs have been in education, healthcare, research, and non-profits, I'm not sure what employment will be available to me over the next several decades. 

It's just really weird to work so hard for so long to create a life I want to live and when I finally arrive and can take a year to just breathe and be, the institutions and infrastructures within my country, not to mention our international relationships, drastically change.

How can someone be so hopeless and exhausted but still be content and, for lack of a better word, happy? I don't know that answer either, even though I'm living it. I AM happy. I'm also sad, frustrated, and angry. I'm also at a place where I realize I can't do anything about anything. 

I've been fighting uphill battles my entire life. Here's just one. My first year of teaching was 22 years ago. I sounded the alarm then. Our kids need to learn to read and write! Our kids need more time to play! It fell on deaf ears to the people in charge. Parents didn't listen. Administrators didn't listen. And I can't fight and stay mad throughout the duration of my entire life. It will kill me.

So here I am. A Gen X woman, divorced, couldn't have kids, on her third career, still underpaid, and tired of shouting into the void about what society needs.

I'm done. But I don't count it as giving up. That would be giving in. I'm not doing that. I am not going to sit here or lie around and hate my life. I am going to find the parts I like and enjoy those things. I will continue to feel all of my feelings, but I will always come back to the three questions I've learned to ask myself.

What do I want?
What do I need?
Is this my problem to manage?

Because, eventually, after ten years of redesigning your life, you get to a point where, really, the problems aren't yours. You've addressed your problems, worked through some, accepted others, and moved on. Most of the problems are society's or other people's. Not yours.

Do your own work.

And you will be free.

a soaring phoenix found at stockcake.com

My 10th Survivor Anniversary

Welp. It's officially been ten years since I stopped fertility treatments, stopped tracking my cycle and every sign and symptom, and stopped trying to conceive. I would go on for another year, silently yearning for a miracle pregnancy, but, surprise, it never happened. I do not have children. 

You can read posts from previous Survivor Anniversaries in March of each year of my blog.

So. That's thirty-five years of assuming I would have children. Thirty-five years of thinking about my children, longing for my children, and already loving my children. Ok, well, maybe I didn't start thinking about them until I was 7 or 8, but that still brings us to over twenty-five years of holding my children in my heart... The point is I ALWAYS wanted to be a mom.

But not everyone who wants to be a mom gets to be one. 

But now... Now I have had ten years to wrap my brain and heart around the reality that I am not going to raise children. I got to be a teacher for a long time. I volunteered with so many different camps and mentorship programs over the decades. I have worked with thousands of kids. I loved it. But they weren't mine. I didn't get to feed them and comfort them and take them to sports practice/art class/whatever they liked. They never lived in my house. I may have spent 8 hours a day with a lot of them; I may have worked with some of them for several years. I contributed to their growth and development. We had fun together. But other people's children are not mine.

Ten years on... I know this. I have healthy boundaries. I am grateful for the experiences I did have with other people's children. I also know that I am, for sure, not raising children in this lifetime.

It's almost unbelievable. But ten years can help one get used to the idea.

Think about it. Ten years ago it was 2015. It felt like a different world then. I stopped trying to grow my family in 2015 not knowing what all was to come. It's just so weird. All of it.

So anyway, my specific Survivor Anniversary date came and I was prepared to feel whatever feelings came. And really, all I felt was relief. Immense, overwhelming relief. I am relieved that ten years has passed. With the passing of time, I have felt my feelings, grieved, and healed. I have discovered new interests and different parts of myself. After thirty-five years of thinking and living my life one way, I have had time to change my entire existence.

None of it was easy. A lot of it is still hard. Involuntary childlessness has a way of deeply affecting almost everything. Certainly every relationship. Your work. Your interactions with your peer group. Your day-to-day life. Your plans for the future.

But it's massively better today than it was back then.

I had big plans to celebrate with a cake and a houseplant. Hahahaha. Plans. Yeah, so... 

Well first, I didn't feel like going to the store so the houseplant still hasn't happened yet. I like the idea though. I'd like to get something kind of big and tall. My boyfriend is good at keeping plants alive, so I'm going to enlist his help.

Secondly, there was the cake. I decided to make muffins instead of cake, solely because of the muffin mix I had previously bought. See the pic below. I mean, come on, they're Dolly Parton muffins! What better way to celebrate my 10th Survivor Anniversary other than with Dolly??

But did I tell you we got a new oven? And that I don't cook very often? So these muffins were actually the first thing I made in our new oven. And when I went to use the timer and entered the wrong time, I hit the cancel button to start over. It turns out that the cancel button was for the oven, not the timer, so I actually turned the oven off. Doh!! So after 20 minutes I was confused why my muffins were still batter... I was also confused why the oven didn't feel very hot... I realized my mistake, turned the oven back on, and cooked the muffins longer. They were edible but not nearly as good as they could have been. I ate one. My boyfriend ate the rest.

Hahahahaha.

My plans to celebrate my 10th Survivor Anniversary didn't go as expected. Just like the whole TTC thing didn't go as expected. (Yes, pun intended... Feel free to roll your eyes, ha.) 

I cracked up. I wasn't even sad. I was glad I learned that lesson about our new oven with the muffin mix and not some expensive, time-consuming meal I had prepared. I actually bought two muffin mixes at the time, so I will just make the muffins again sometime soon.

Hilarious. My imperfect celebration was perfect. And I recommend Dolly's muffin mix. I can tell the muffins are going to be amazing when they are properly cooked.

A Tribute To Bamberlamb

Today I am wearing purple. It's St. Patrick's Day and I usually wear green, but today was Bamberlamb's funeral and she loved purple. I've been thinking about her all day. My life is so much better because I got to know her just a tiny bit.

Bamberlamb wrote the blog called It's Inconceivable where I learned so much. I got to be on several different zoom calls with her too, and she was even funnier and feistier "in person" than she was in writing. She lived life out loud. She was unapologetic, and she knew how to have fun.

Bamberlamb was childless not by choice and she wrote very honestly about her experiences. 

She taught me that I'm not alone. At a time when I felt all alone, long before I realized how common the loneliness and isolation of infertility can be, I had her blog to read. 

She taught me to invest in worthy relationships. Not all relationships are worthy, but the ones that are, are definitely worth investing in.

She taught me to think ahead about aging. She had so many good ideas and plans in place.

Most importantly, she taught me to do what I want. She explicitly told me that if there is an activity that I enjoy that is separate from all of the family/kid-centered stuff in society to go out and do that. And to do it a lot! I'm always saying that we deserve to enjoy our lives, and I learned it from Bamberlamb.

What an incredible woman. We are all better for her existence. 

May she rest in peace, power, and irreverent profanity!

Bamberlamb loved to ride her motorbike. 

Although the woman in this drawing looks a little older, 

I think this picture captures a bit of Bamberlamb's essence. 

💜💜💜

(You can purchase the image here.)

Mid-March/The Rules Have Changed

When I was married, March was my least favorite month. My ex-husband is a huge sports fan and March Madness had a way of dictating our entire schedule for the month. In all honesty though, that wasn't any different from the other 11 months. Sports always dictated our schedule. And considering all we did was go to sports games and the sports bar, it never really changed. Sigh... But I digress...

Now I can go two whole weeks in March before I even remember that a bunch of guys in college are playing a lot of basketball this month. It's wonderful. 

Nothing against basketball, I just didn't like always coming after sports (and work and money and beer). I wanted to feel more like a priority in our marriage. Again, I'm digressing... Maybe with the 10th anniversary of my last IVF coming up and the 6th anniversary of my divorce next month I am feeling a little reflective...

But with time, the pain of some things decreases. With time, the memories of some things fade. And that's okay. When my brain prunes negative experiences from my past, I am fine with that.

Because here is the thing: I have spent ONE-THIRD of my life grieving. 

Holy shit.

I just realized that yesterday.

One-third is a huge portion of my life. 

I don't fault myself for it. I didn't choose to spend 15 years grieving. But that's what it took for me to process losing my children. 

I never got to meet them or hold them. They never got to physically exist outside my body, but I thought about them my entire life. I have always loved my children. And in my heart I know their names. I know what I would've named my boy and I know what I would've named my girl. Those are the names I think of when I think of my children that didn't get to be with me in this lifetime.

A lot of people would probably be surprised to learn that I still think about my children. I'm sure many people would think, or even say, "You're not over that yet?" Those people are short-sighted and emotionally stunted. 

No, it is not a consolation for me to be able to travel or sleep in or do whatever everyone else can do when they are outside of the formative child-raising years. (Seriously! You're only actively parenting for 15 - 20 years. Turns out, parents can sleep in and travel too!)

However, one thing that is different is I absolutely refuse to kill myself for a job. 

I will no longer work for free. (Maybe that sounds obvious to you--who would work for free? But the majority of my jobs have included soooo much unpaid labor. I will never ever do that again.) I am not providing for my children, and I only have to take care of myself. I don't have to work 40+ hours a week, commuting 10+ hours and coming home exhausted only to work more for free. 

I have to make enough to pay my mortgage, insurances, home/car maintenance, and monthly bills. That is still a lot of money that I require every year but I don't have to give up all of my down time to make it. For me, not having kids means I don't have to work long hours for little pay.

Instead, I work as little as possible. Ha!

Don't get me wrong. I like to work. I actually love to work. But maybe a part of being middle-aged is feeling so tired after working so much for so long for so little.

And, for me, another part of it is I have been doing caregiving jobs since I was a teenager. I've written about it before, but caregiving jobs demand a lot without giving much back. They are awesome and rewarding, but I am learning they are not sustainable. My part-time job at the family-owned business where I work is saving me from burnout so I can keep working my other part-time job that involves intense caregiving.

What is this post even about? 😂

I guess I'm sharing more changes I've experienced from enduring infertility and living involuntarily childless. The rules I grew up with no longer apply. I need different things from relationships and my jobs than other people on a more normative path. I'm only beginning to see how these different needs of mine affect other people's perceptions of me.

But I finally don't care about other people's opinions. They don't know my life at all. They don't make an effort to learn and they are very quick to judge. I'm over it.

(And since this is such a random, rambling post... Here's another random thing! Remember the acquaintance who asked if I wanted to see a picture of her new grandbaby after I had texted her preemptively to request she not send me any baby pictures? I saw her last week. And the first thing she did was shove her phone in my line of sight and show me several baby pictures. Thankfully, it didn't hurt. It only pissed me off. How rude.)

Ok, The End. Hahahaha. To recap: I enjoy the month of March a lot more since I've been divorced. I've spent one-third of my life grieving. Grief has changed me. One of those changes is I refuse to live a life where I just work and then collapse at home at the end of the day. Most people don't understand me or my life. And a lot of people are just thoughtless and clueless.

Now... Go do something fun! It doesn't have to be big or expensive. Just do something you like.

You deserve to enjoy your life. 💜

I found the quote above here when searching for "misunderstood" images online.