It's Incredibly Difficult to Recover

One of the many reasons why I grieved so hard and so long for my unrealized dream of raising children is the idea that parenting is so pervasive that it's the default way of thinking... It's hard enough to live amongst pronatalism when you didn't want to parent, but it feels nearly impossible to live in this suffocating world when you wanted to parent and didn't get to. 

Here's my most recent example.

I was talking to my mom and she was telling me about a family member that came to visit. He wants to move to a different country and has been working on the logistics for awhile. My mom is not in favor of this plan. Why she cares where he lives is beyond me. Personally, I'm excited for him. He's well traveled and knows the language. My mom thinks it's a terrible idea.

Mom: It's hard to move.

Me: Yeah, it's hard to move, but he wants to move. I think it's pretty cool.

Mom: He's moving away from his family. [This family member's parents are dead and he is not in communication with his siblings. He's not married, and he doesn't have kids.]

Me: Well, I'm sure it won't be any different. He's just living his life.

Mom: But it's even harder to move when you're our age. You can't meet people through your work or through your children.

Me: ... I haven't met anyone through my children...

Mom: Well, you know what I mean.

Me: And he hasn't ever met anyone through his children either...

Mom: Well, I guess not.

Me: He's probably just living his life like regular. I mean, this is his life. It's nothing new.

*****

I'm not mad at my mom, but I continue to be shocked at her blatant assumptions and inability to imagine life any other way than how it has gone for her. I even told her, "I understand that you're thinking about life with the normative transitions, but [our family member] and I don't live life like that and it changes everything."

And THAT is why it is so hard to grieve and recover from involuntary childlessness. Not only are you navigating traumatic loss and disenfranchised grief, you are encountering people's limited perspectives and constant judgment for what you are supposed to be doing instead.

Infantilizing Childless Women

My family isn't very nice to me. 

There. I said it.

I'm 45 years old and I am constantly criticized for all of my choices: where I live, what I do for work, who I choose as my partner, and how I spend my time. At this point, it is absolutely ridiculous. I am fine. I'm employed. I pay my bills. I am kind. I have hobbies. I volunteer. 

But I don't need to tell you all of this. I don't even need to tell myself. 

I am enough and I don't need to explain my existence or reasoning. 

It's just really, really sad.

I woke up in a bit of a funk yesterday morning. I knew my extended family was gathering for the holidays yesterday, but I chose to take care of myself, not travel, and stay home. I don't regret my decision, but I still missed seeing my cousins. I called my parents to visit and my mom was so mean. She's the kind of person that will insult you and then tell you, "You're overthinking it," when you call her out on it. That is exactly what happened yesterday. I tried not to let it, but it really soured my day. I am a high achieving, accomplished adult, and I am treated like I am an ignorant teenager making bad choices. It's beyond annoying.

I feel like I'm constantly having realizations about my relationships with my family members and learning how to interact differently. But it's a neverending evolution apparently. Hopefully, I learned some new things yesterday because I am really tired of feeling like a hurt and misunderstood kid.

Do I go low contact? I've tried every other strategy so far. I've done nothing wrong. But I am still insulted. My life and my choices are not respected. How my life is and how I am treated by my family is completely incongruous.

Is it because I'm not married? Because I don't have kids? Because I'm the youngest?

I thought as my niece and nephew grew up, the family would realize I was also growing up. But my young adult niece and nephew seem to have surpassed me in the family. They are not criticized for where they live or what they do. It is really, really, really fucking weird.

I am glad I stayed home this weekend. I am glad I did the best I could to take care of myself. I am sorry that I hung up the phone yesterday and continued to replay all of the criticisms lobbed at me on repeat in my head all day. I tried writing a letter to myself in my head telling myself all of the things I wanted to hear. 

I don't know what else to do. I feel like I cannot deal with this anymore. It's not good for me.

It's not right, and it's not fair. I survived my worst nightmare. I don't have kids after planning for them and structuring my entire life around having them. I've been through so much stress and dealt with so much grief: infertility, failed treatments, moving, divorce, a pandemic. I know I've done an amazing, awesome job, but I don't want to have to tell my parents that anymore. It should be the other way around. They should be telling me, not me trying to convince them. 

Did I mention that I'm 45??

And it's not like I'm trying to explain myself. It just happens in conversation. My mom will ask what I've been up to this week, I'll share things like "working and sewing," and whatever I say is always the wrong thing. Wrong job, wrong hobby. It's. So. Bizarre.

When I was a kid and she was mad at me, my mother used to smirk and tell me all the time, "I hope you grow up and have a daughter just like you." And to my credit, I would say, "Me too. Then at least someone in my life would make sense."

Yesterday was just another day in my life with my parents. But just like the acquaintance I wrote about in my last post (the "I know you don't want to see any newborn pictures, but do you want to see just one?" lady), people will say the weirdest shit to me. And out of all of the venting I did to my boyfriend yesterday, I still didn't even tell him the most hurtful thing my mom said. (He is so over it. I was grateful that he was listening to me, but I also wanted to spare him.)

Yesterday my mother said to me, "I know you don't like to hear this. But, as a parent, that's just how it [parenting] is." My MOM tried to parent-splain (that's my version of "mansplain") her treatment of me, her middle aged daughter, as reasonable because she claimed that's how parenting is while simultaneously referencing the fact that I have no children and inferring that I don't know what it's like. 

😳

Wow, lady. 

Just wow.

A Preemptive Text

I have an acquaintance who was about to become a grandmother. She was, understandably, very excited about it. I thought about the previous year when her oldest child got married. She was very excited about that too. She shared hundreds of wedding pictures with me, which I didn't mind. She was excited, the pictures were pretty, and it was a very happy event.

But I thought about those hundreds of wedding pictures of people I will never meet when she sent out a group text that the baby was born and all went well. Mother and baby were healthy.

I know myself. I know that newborn pics, especially where the new mom is holding the newborn, are hard for me. I limit myself to pictures of only people I care about, not people I don't even know. I thought I better get ahead of this.

So I sent her a preemptive text message. I wrote, "Congrats on grandmotherhood!! I'll have to catch you beforehand and request that you don't send me any newborn pics. I can explain in person if you're curious. Thank you!"

I felt kind of proud of myself. It was a polite text that didn't overshare. I didn't feel self-conscious for writing or sending it. I was glad I had the idea and sent it before I was bombarded with pics.

And do you know what this acquaintance said the first time I saw her when she got back in town?

She literally said, "I know you said you didn't want to see any newborn pictures, but do you want to see just one?"

"No" was my swift, immediate, and one-word reply. 

What the hell?? Someone sends you a text like that and you still try to show them baby pictures? She has no idea what my experiences are, and she obviously doesn't care. Or, she at least didn't stop and think for even one second.

My flat reply made another friend laugh. She was right there, knows my story, knows this acquaintance, and laughed out loud at my immediate "no." I did not feel laughed AT. I felt empowered. I said no, did not explain myself, and could not possibly have cared any less.

Geeez, what a clueless acquaintance!

Changes Over Time with My BFF

Out of all of my friends that I've written about on this blog, I haven't told you about the friend that I was closest to: my best friend from college. I met her within the first month or two of our first semester. She was so cool, and I wanted to be her friend. We were housemates the following year. She traveled abroad our third year and then we rented apartments in the same neighborhood our final year. It was so fun being her friend and I trusted her with everything. I was so anxious but outgoing, and she was so rational but shy in big groups. We were a good pair together. We complimented each other well. She helped me immensely.

We graduated college and continued to talk on the phone almost every day for the next couple of years. Then, inevitably, the demands of life increased and we no longer had as much free time to do that. But still, we were very much in touch.

When I got engaged, she was happy for me... But also sad for herself. She really, really wanted to be engaged. She and her boyfriend had been together for years and she was ready to get married. We talked openly about it and I said what we both already knew--that we weren't always going to be on the same timeline as each other. (Yes, this was some Real Life foreshadowing...)

My best friend and her boyfriend came to my wedding, even though it wasn't a destination they would have personally chosen. She was totally present with me and happy for me, and it was a great celebration. She and her boyfriend were engaged within the next six months, and my husband and I went to their wedding the following year. Yay! We were both newlyweds.

Then she called to tell me she was pregnant. And I was happy for her... But also sad for myself. I hadn't even started trying yet; my husband didn't want to. I also had a feeling of dread that it wasn't going to happen for me. And this was my best friend. She knew everything about me. She knew about my fear of infertility. I confided in her about it in college and she assured me I was worrying for nothing. She was the rational one. I tried to believe her.

And now she was pregnant. Which was great. But our lives were moving in different directions...

We didn't talk as much.

Several years and two kids later (two for her, none for me obviously), we were still loosely in touch. But she was busy with baby and toddler things. I was busy with fertility treatments and grief. I knew my life wouldn't be like this forever. Neither would hers. I hoped we'd reconnect again later down the road...

We always stayed in touch. But we lived on opposite sides of the country and did not have much in common, aside from our shared history in college. 

She had a third kid. I was surprised, but I'm sure she and her husband were more surprised, lol. They were already in the thick of things with parenting though, so, hey, what's one more? Haha. 

Anyway, the years passed by and life went on... Her kids and career were growing, and I was going back to school and moving a bunch just trying to find a place to land.

Then earlier this year, when I was going through the breakup (wow, that feels so long ago!), I texted her to let her know. She was so kind and supportive with her messages. And she also invited me on her family's summer vacation. Me with her, her husband, and their three kids.

And I realized, if I am going to meet my best friend's kids while they are still kids, I need to meet them NOW.

I couldn't believe she invited me on their freaking family vacation. We hadn't even seen each other in 12 years. I mean, I know her husband and I feel completely comfortable with both of them, but still... In a way, it was just a trip to see old friends. But with infertility, in another way, the trip was a lot to consider.

I did it. I went. I flew across the country and spent a week with my best friend from college and her family. And it was so awesome. Amazing. No regrets. So much fun. 10/10 will do it again.

(Obviously, working through everything and getting back together with my boyfriend was the best thing about the breakup. But the second best thing was going out of my comfort zone and taking that trip to see my best friend!)

Were there hard moments? Yes. Was it bittersweet? Also yes. But this is my life and I want to live it. I want to see my best friend and meet her kids and spend time with her family. Like I said in my previous post, it's the person that makes the difference in a situation. And my best friend is awesome. And so are her kids.

My Baby's Blanket

I've heard of a lot of people decluttering right now. The feeling must be in the air. 

I found something important while I was decluttering recently. I found my baby's blanket.

There are so many difficult things about enduring infertility, and one of those things is the absence of acknowledgment. The invisibility. The suffering in silence. The severe lack of support.

I really don't understand why people don't see involuntary childlessness as a profound loss.

And that's why my baby's blanket is so sacred to me.

One of my friend's moms knew I was trying to get pregnant, so she started knitting a baby blanket for me. She asked my friend what my favorite colors were and went and bought the yarn. She got started on it early, worked on it for a while, and finished it well before I ever... 

Well, as we all know, I never got pregnant. 

So then she didn't know what to do. (Join the club. Neither did I.) She gave it to me as a prayer blanket with full disclosure that it began as a baby blanket.

It was the most significant, heartfelt gift I received.
It was the only gift I received.

It is the only present I have that honors my hoped-for child, and it is extremely important to me.

💜💜💜

The Things We Say

Mali's latest post on Language and Assumptions was perfect timing for me. She writes, "I'm a fan of words. I love the nuances of language, and languages. Language tells us so much about cultures and individuals and history and colonialism and oppression and dominance and, thankfully, change." She briefly references "as a mother" and "childLESS" in particular. Both of these sentiments came up when I was with my family last week.

*****

First, my mom was telling a story about waiting outside the restrooms at a sports stadium. She overheard a little boy saying he refused to go into the women's restroom and the woman he was with (presumably his mother) saying that she had to use the bathroom. My mom stepped in and told the woman, "I am a mother and a grandmother. I can wait with your boy right here while you go to the bathroom." And so she did. And that was the story. 

When the story ended I said, "So I couldn't have waited with the little boy?" And my mom looked confused and asked what I meant. I said, "Well, I'm not a mother or a grandmother, so I guess I couldn't have waited with the boy." She stammered and said something like that's-not-what-I-meant. She told me I could have said, "I was a teacher. I can wait with your boy."

My mom seemed defensive and I let her know that was not my intention, that I was just pointing out the pronatalist world that I live in 24/7. I'm not mad at her for her defensiveness. I am just really seeing in a new light how threatened majority populations feel when marginalized populations find their voice. 

*****

Then at another time we were all at dinner. I don't even remember what we were talking about... Oh, I think it was about how it seems like more younger people are choosing to not have kids. My niece doesn't want kids. My nephew doesn't want kids. One of my sister's stepdaughters doesn't want kids. Someone mentioned the word "childfree," and one of my sisters smiled at me and said, "You're childfree!" And I said, "No, I am childless..." I was going to say "not by choice" but got cut off as she countered, "No, you are childfree." And all I said was, "We all get to choose how we self-identify."

*****

Language and assumptions... We could talk about this for days, weeks, and the rest of our lives!

Conversations with Adults

They're not as easy as conversations with kids.
Kids don't want to solve my problems with a baby like adults seem to want to do.

I engaged in a long conversation at work last week. It was my choice. I chose to do it. But I was still wiped out afterward. It started when I said I'd be out for graduation in a couple of weeks. My co-worker asked about my research and I told her the title of my project. 

It set off a lot of questions from her. Which was good I guess. Because she didn't know much about infertility, fertility treatments, and living childless not-by-choice. And like I said, I chose to have the conversation.

But.

I need to remember how depleted and frustrated I felt.
Maybe I don't want to have those conversations anymore.

Did you try IVF?
Was it really like that?
All those shots?
How many?
How long?
How much?
Like, it's really expensive right?
Should I freeze my eggs?
Well, there's always adoption. Have you thought about adoption?
What about China? 
Can't you get a baby from China?
There's lots of 12 year olds. Why don't you adopt a 12 year old?
What if I got pregnant? I'll just give my baby to you.

I've gotta give my co-worker credit. She filled the BINGO card faster than most. And I promise you that she's a lovely person. Like I said, I chose to have this conversation. (But I honestly wasn't expecting every stereotypical question and comment in the book!)

Anyway.

Now she knows.
Two IVFs. Adoption didn't work either. Was married. Now divorced. ("Well, isn't it good that you didn't have children, then?" Whyyy does everyone think it's okay to say this to me??) No kids. 43. Here I am.

Gah. It was exhausting.

But she learned a lot. And I guess I did too.
Like, I don't want to do that again for a long, long time!

And then adult conversation #2?

Well, it was satisfying because at least I thought of what to say in the moment, instead of after. The context of the conversation doesn't even matter. You'll see. Here goes.

Her: Well, as a parent, I was so worried!

Me: I know! I'm NOT a parent, and I was also worried!!

Again, another lovely person. Just everyone is so entrenched in the pronatalist culture. 

I roll my eyes so much.

Uncomfortable Confessions from Others

I have been experiencing an odd phenomenon lately. It's weird, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. I will be working with an older adult, they will ask me if I have children, I say no, and then they pause before telling me the strangest things.

I have been deemed a safe person to whom they confess their most personal thoughts.

*****

Person 1, a woman in her early 90s: "Oh, well, that's not so bad, not having children. I mean, this isn't a world you want to be bringing children into these days."

Ok, the first time caught me off guard. I just smiled and said something about life working out.

*****

Person 2, a man in his mid 70s: "You don't have kids? Well, I don't know why everyone is having so many. I don't know what is going to be left by the end of these kids' lifetimes. You know my [insert daughter/granddaughter/I forget who he said] is pregnant? I am so mad at this pregnancy."

Wow... That one really took me off guard. I assured him the community was full of good people and the kid would have a good life full of love. I didn't want to automatically put a positive spin on things, but geez, that's no way to live. Blood pressure levels alone.

*****

(Which brings me to a side point--why are there all these tv channels available in hospitals and physical rehabilitation facilities? They're so stressful. All that bad news. Why not just have, like, a puppy channel and some G-rated sit coms, cooking shows, and old game shows. I think those channels would be more healing.)

*****

The third confessional had a different tone. Upon learning I did not have children, this woman in her late 90s told me that her son died when he was 31. This happened many decades ago and I could feel the pain as she told me about losing him. Losing a child is a lifelong loss. She knew she could confide in me.

*****

Well! I've always heard that you never know what kids are going to say. But now I've learned it's just people in general. Young or old, who knows what is going to come out of someone's mouth.

Awkward Introduction

Yesterday I went to orientation for my new job. 

Different people from different departments came to tell us about different policies and procedures. The facilities person talked about safety. The payroll person talked about payroll. The benefits person talked about benefits. Etc. It was a little boring, but it was fine. The organization provided lunch. There weren't many of us new hires. All in all, it was pretty uneventful.

Until HR came to talk about HR stuff. 

The guy came in the room, sat down, and introduced himself by saying how many kids he had.

Oh.

That's what had been missing all day. I hadn't heard anyone talk about their children. How funny that it was a guy that was the one to do so. Anyway, so he went on about his kids, their ages, blah blah blah. It was easy to tune him out. 

Maybe I'm sounding callous, but he didn't say anything about himself. He only defined himself through his children. It's just a limited way of thinking. Ok, maybe I sound judgmental. I admittedly have very little patience when someone I just meet talks only about their children.

Then he turned to the rest of us. Asked us to introduce ourselves. But he didn't let us guide our own introductions. He asked us questions individually. He asked us if we had children. 

What in the world...

He got to the woman next to me and asked where she was from and what her job was going to be. He asked if she had any kids. She smiled, said yes, and listed off the ages of her sons.

Then he turned to me. The first thing he asked was, "Do you have any family?" I could have easily said that, yes, I moved here with my boyfriend and that we are very happy here. But I didn't want to give him that. So I just answered his question the best I knew how.

Him: "Do you have any family?"

Me: "Yes... I have parents."

(pause, a little awkward)

Me: "And sisters..."

(slightly longer pause,
a little more awkward)

Him: "Do you have any kids?"

Me: "No."

(much longer pause,
definitely
feeling
awkward)

I didn't say anything else. No explanation. No elaboration.

He didn't say anything either. He seemed uncomfortable. He moved on.

I thought about how far I'd come. I thought about how his questions would have made me sad in the past, how they would have made me mad just a year or two ago, and how I found them absurdly funny in the moment.

Hahahaha.

I am so thankful for my progress in recovery.
I am so dang thankful for my healing.

Thoughtless v. Thoughtful

The differences between people will never cease to amaze me.

*****

Thoughtless

My oldest sister included me on a group text today. Her stepdaughter gave birth. So there I was, without warning, staring at a beaming mother holding her newborn followed by another picture of just the newborn. I haaate newborn pics, especially when the baby is in the arms of the mother while still in the hospital. It's such an intimate moment, one that I never got to have and one that I don't care to witness in others.

I was so upset. I was really hurt. I texted just my sister (not the group text, which I immediately deleted) and said, "Please don't send me any baby pictures. Thank you. And congratulations!" 

You know it couldn't end there.

She wrote back saying she wouldn't send me any more. I told her thank you, that baby pictures were still very difficult for me. I told her that I was crying pretty hard and it sucked. (Why should I protect her from my feelings? I WAS crying hard and I felt she needed to know that.)

She wrote back saying she had debated including me or not, but she didn't want to leave me out.

I texted, "I'm already left out. I'm infertile."

Of course it couldn't end there either.

She literally wrote, "You are not! You have tons to contribute. You are the best aunt and sister."

I texted, "It's not the same!!!!!"

I had to end this.

I wrote, "Please don't argue with me. Let's just let this go."

She didn't write back. 

It ended.

*****

Thoughtful

I can't help but compare today's experience with another experience I had a couple of days ago.

I was in bed, scrolling through twitter to get sports news, fabric updates, and read funny tweets. My newsfeed is pretty well curated so I mostly see only stuff that pertains to my interests. 

One thing that I've noticed on twitter (maybe they do it on fb and ig too, I'm not on those platforms) is that people will write TW to stand for "trigger warning" before posting something that might be upsetting. I've seen trigger warnings for mention of suicide, abuse, and sexual assault.

Well, imagine my surprise when I read a tweet that said "TW: Pregnancy Announcement."

Whaaa?? I had never seen such a thing.

I read on.

The poster didn't stop there. Before sharing her pregnancy news she wrote something along the lines of, "As we share our good news we understand that many are walking the path of infertility and/or loss. Our hearts are with you and so are our prayers." 

Only then did she say that she was happy to share the news that she was pregnant.

So a total stranger posted 1) a trigger warning for a pregnancy announcement and 2) a message of love and understanding for those going through infertility and pregnancy loss before she even wrote that she was pregnant.

How. Freaking. Thoughtful.

See people?? It's not that hard to be considerate.

I was touched. I was seriously touched. 

I sent her a private message. 

I told her that her pregnancy announcement was the most thoughtful announcement I'd ever seen. I told her I was a survivor of infertility and that the way she shared her best news ever made me smile. I told her she was already an awesome mom. Then she wrote back with the kindest message and I replied wishing her and her family nothing but the best.

A warning before a pregnancy announcement? So anyone who is having a bad moment/day/year can keep on scrolling and skip past it? Freaking beautiful. So considerate and full of thought.

*****

And that is my weekend tale of my two very different experiences.

Roller Coaster Living

 I've got a lot on my mind. Unfortunately, not much of it is positive. Let's jump in, shall we?

1. I had a very upsetting phone call with my mom yesterday. We were talking about books and recipes and whatnot. I try to keep the topics pretty neutral because I don't need her criticizing me, lecturing me, or otherwise invalidating my thoughts, feelings, and/or experiences. But I couldn't do it yesterday. I couldn't do the surface stuff anymore. When she asked if I had any upcoming time off, I asked her if she was asking whether I had any upcoming time off or if I was going to be traveling during the pandemic. That was the opening into a conversation about what is really going on in the world.
   
   Long story short, we have completely different ideas about what taking precautions looks like and I don't think I'll be seeing anyone I'm related to anytime this year or even next. It's angering and sad. I thought it was a decent enough conversation and that she was listening as best as she is able to, but then she texted me later in the day about needing to see me for Thanksgiving. In her exact words she wrote, "There are worse things than Covid--like not seeing your kids!" 
   
   Pause. Pause.
   Let that sink in.
   
   My own mother disregarded my entire experience with infertility with one single statement. 
   
   I am so pissed. I can give her a list of a lot of things that are harder than not seeing your kids THAT YOU GOT TO HAVE AND RAISE. (And, yes, getting Covid IS one those harder things... So is not getting to have and raise your children at all.)
   
   
   
2. My next point is somewhat related. It's about Energy Vampires. Unfortunately, I have a new co-worker that prompted me to find an old book I'd read, pull it from the shelf, dust it off, and begin reading it again. The book is wonderful and it has helped me a lot. It's entitled "The Empath's Survival Guide: Life Strategies for Sensitive People" by Dr. Judith Orloff. She starts chapter 5, called "Protecting Yourself from Narcissists and Other Energy Vampires," by stating, "Energy vampires are attracted to the openness and loving hearts of empaths. Sensitive people need to be prepared for them." Yes, yes we do!
   
   I'm encountering a new-to-me phenomenon: people who are jealous of my hard work and want to steal my happiness and personal peace of mind. But again, I have infertility to thank for my new awareness of these predatory behaviors. Now I can see it happening before I'm already entrenched in a friendship. I know the counselor that I saw for a year and a half during my failed fertility treatments and my subsequent recovery from them would be so proud of me and my hard-earned progress.
   
   I noticed the "energy vampire" activity because I didn't feel good when I was around this person. Like, my stomach physically hurt. Then I would be extremely tired after being in the same room with them for an extended period of time. This person was constantly questioning my life choices (not having kids, not adopting, getting divorced, moving to this small town, etc.) and I thought it was extremely weird. I mean, I just met this person! Fortunately, I am so confident in everything I've done in the last 5.5 years of my life to get to this point that my confidence in my life decisions is unshakeable. Maybe this is the first time I have actually felt secure in my lifetime... Whatever it is, her questions began to really annoy me. They were tinged with judgement and I wondered if her obvious unhappiness was just as obvious to her. Regardless, I'm keeping this co-worker at a safe distance and reviewing protection strategies for myself from this wonderful book that I'm revisiting.
   
   
   
3. I'm having surgery tomorrow. Yes, the saying is true. When it rains, it pours...
   
   (But I had to have a covid test before I could be approved for surgery, so I'm happy to know that I am not, as of this point, an asymptomatic carrier walking around and spreading the virus. I am really glad to know that.)
   
   It's not the hysterectomy procedure that I scheduled for early this summer and then canceled due to covid stress and moving across the state. I met with my new doctor. He's male, which was not my preference, but I instantly liked him so I decided to stick with him. He has a great bedside manner, listened to all of my concerns, and answered all of my questions. Together we decided that a LEEP procedure would be the next best step. He will receive a pathology report after the procedure and I will either be all clear or then we will schedule a hysterectomy. Hopefully, tomorrow's procedure removes all of the unhealthy cells!
   
   

So, in my humble opinion, that's enough for now. A somewhat estrangement from my family (Is it an estrangement if the other people don't even realize?), majorly negative vibes from someone at work, and a full blown procedure with general anesthesia tomorrow. 

It's all right. I'm not going anywhere. I'm resilient and strong. 

This world can't knock me down. I'm along for the ride!

The Cost of My Freedom

I see it in their eyes.

We will be standing there, both of us in our late 30s/early 40s, meeting each other for the first time. It may be at a work event or when making small talk while out and about town. They tell me about their kids and ask me about mine. I say I don't have any and there is a brief pause while I watch so many thoughts flicker across their eyes.

No kids?
Why not?
How old is she?
Is she married?
What does she do??
Oh wow, what does she do with all of her TIME???
Good gawd, what does she do with all of her MONEY???


It doesn't always happen like this, but it happens enough that it's worth writing about.

I know these parents love their kids. They love their kids unconditionally.
They just don't love the constant act of parenting 24/7.

They hear that I don't have kids and their overwhelming thought is: FREEDOM.


But their initial thoughts sell me short. Aside from the fact that I have the same 24 hours in a day that they do and that I make the same low salary as everyone else in my field...

Their assumptions leave no space for my losses, my trauma, my grief, and my hard work.

I'm not looking to turn every interaction into a teachable moment with friends and strangers alike, but I do appreciate having this place where I can vent about what annoys me. ;)

Win Some, Lose Some

I've gathered more blog material from my current workplace, but first I'd like to offer a quick explanation for my absence so far this month.

This clinical rotation is kicking my butt!!!

Since it's part of my degree program, I am not getting paid.
(Instead, I am still paying tuition. Sigh...)

Since I am not getting paid, we cannot yet afford for my husband to quit his job and move here to look for another one. Of course, he can look for another job while employed by his current one, but... There are only so many hours in the day and so much energy that a person can have. And that move, still 2.5 months later, took everything we had. So I am currently living here without him. We are seeing each other every other weekend, which is turning out to be a lot harder than either one of us anticipated. But we believe it will be worth it and it will all work out in the end.

But combine my lack of pay and my lack of support system in the area with being constantly out of my comfort zone at my clinical every day, and I am experiencing a type of physical, emotional, and cognitive fatigue that I've never had before. I am definitely not complaining; I just wish I had more time and energy to read and write.

So that's what's been going on with me. You are not missing much. I wake up, go to work, come home, take a nap, wake up to eat dinner, and go to bed early. On the weekends I do laundry, grocery shopping, and something fun, either by myself or with my husband (if he is in town). Some of the fun things I have done include:

• going to a local music festival by myself, where I met another woman who doesn't have kids! We exchanged phone numbers and promised to text each other when we are going to do something fun. So far we've stayed in touch, even though we haven't met up again yet.
  
  
• I've also been going to a monthly happy hour for women who do not have kids. I get the impression that many of them do not have kids by choice but you never know... It's been a fun time getting to know women knowing I will not be asked when I am going to have children. Plus, I know there will never be a surprise pregnancy announcement from anyone in the group. The group is designed for women who don't have kids and never will. By choice or by circumstance, we all have a certain thing in common: we live a different life compared to the friends we've known for a long time who now do have children.
  
  
• I have also spent time exploring my new city and the restaurants and attractions it has to offer. I know so few people here, but I am so much less lonely than I was while living in my hometown. I am so glad I moved.

So. Now the two short stories I have to share...

1. Today at lunch I was told to enjoy my free time while I had it because once I had kids everything would change. Seriously? Does it ever end?? It was said by a new co-worker who had been so nice up to that point and probably has no idea that we are near the same age. Because she has been so nice and because I was so unprepared, I said nothing and just walked away. But I'm prepared for next time! Next time (because it seems like there will always be a next time), I will say something along the lines of, "I think, kids or no kids, not having enough free time just comes with being an adult." I think that statement is non-confrontational and appropriate for the work setting, especially with someone who has been so pleasant. It lets me not allow the comment go without being contested and it offers a new perspective for the harried parent--a perspective that says hey, you're not the only one who's busy.
   
   
   (The first story was my loss. I missed a moment to reply to a rather condescending comment from a parent. The second story is a win. Because I swore next time this was said to me I would be prepared.)
   
   
   
2. I stayed a little late by choice to work on something at work a couple of weeks ago. A co-worker said to go home and I said that I didn't mind spend an extra thirty minutes working because I had nothing to go home to. (Ok, that sounds a little pathetic, but it was a day where I was especially missing my husband and also my dog that passed away this past winter.) She said, "Oh, do you want my burdens?" And I asked, "What?" And she said, "Do you want my children?" And I said, "Yes." There was a pause and she just looked at me. Then she said, "Oh..." Hahaha. I swore to myself that if I was ever asked that question again I was going to answer with a simple "yes." I may sound weird, but following through with what I told myself I was going to say combined with seeing the surprised look on her face left me feeling very satisfied.

I honestly have a third story, and it is very surprising and uplifting, but I will save it for next time...

We win some, we lose some. 

Hang in there my friends and keep on rocking your own badass life. 💜

Pregnancy & Parenting Chatter

I'm back in the workforce as I complete my clinical rotations. It seems like everyone assumes everyone is fertile and that assumption is getting on my nerves. This week alone:

• A patient said to me, "You'll understand when you have children," talking about how I will inevitably put everyone else's needs first when I inevitably get pregnant and have kids.
  
  
• Another patient, upon learning about my pediatrics rotation in the fall said, "Oh, well that will cure you from wanting children." Okay... Says the lady whose daughter comes to the hospital to see her every day...
  
  
• A co-worker's daughter got her license. She said, "I can't believe I have a driver." And another co-worker said, "It all happens so fast. Soon she'll be graduating high school and then she'll be moving out of your house..." And they commiserated on how sad it is. All while I'm thinking about my children that I'll never get to see drive, graduate, or move out.
  
  
• Another co-worker is pregnant. I worked with her today. She is obviously pregnant and mentioned her pregnancy about three times in the half hour I worked with her. I get that pregnancy is what's going on in her life, but geez...
  
  
• I sat through lunch today while a co-worker talked to the pregnant co-worker all about her own pregnancies and what to expect in the ninth month. Thankfully another co-worker sat next to me, not knowing my pain/annoyance, and just started talking to me which drowned out the other conversation.
  

I know, I know. People talk about pregnancy and their kids. People everywhere get pregnant/have kids. People at work get pregnant/have kids.  Everyone at work assumes I will get pregnant/have kids. Everyone at work assumes I *can* get pregnant/have kids. 

Ugh. I get it. But it's still an annoying and irrelevant topic for me.

Pregnancy, child raising, and other noise... Blah blah blah.

Stupid Question

I successfully completed the first week of my first clinical rotation, and it was exhausting. I always forget how much energy it takes to learn new skills and knowledge. Plus, I felt extremely unprepared from my coursework so I had to hit the ground running. I am in a good situation though. There is another student with me, and we both really like our clinical instructor. Our instructor is kind, supportive, knowledgeable, and experienced. She began pushing us out of our comfort zone the first day, which is good for me because I can stand back, observe, and take notes for forever. What I really need to do is get in there and do the hands-on work with patients.

I am working in a facility that has a lot of older adults in its patient population. There are a million different things we work on with the patients. One of the activities is pretty straight forward and simple. There is a beach ball with different questions written on each colored section of the ball. In a small group the patients toss the ball to each other and read and answer aloud the question that faces them when they catch the ball.

Before ever seeing this activity, I had already noticed the ball. More specifically, I had already noticed one of the questions on the ball. And wouldn't you know it, the first time I led this activity... The patients were taking turns tossing the ball and an older woman I had been working with throughout the week caught it and read the question she saw out loud, "How many grandchildren do you have and what are their names?" Grrrrr... You know this question irritated me. Plus, I knew this woman did not have any children, so therefore she did not have any grandchildren.

She answered, "None," somewhat flatly (or maybe I was reading too much into her response). Anticipating her answer and going off of what I knew about her already, I immediately said, "You told me about your nephews that are so important to you. What are their names?" Her face lit up as she shared her nephews' names and told the group a little bit more about them. Then the game continued.

It was such a small moment, but it stood out to me. I hated that question and I hated that my patient got that question on her turn. I have no idea what her life circumstances were. I do not know if she ever married; I do not know if she ever wanted children. I do not know if this is a painful subject for her. Considering her age, contraceptives were not widely available during her time, so I do not know if she just never had a significant romantic relationship with a man or if she wanted children very badly and could not have them.

It was such a small moment, but it was big to me. I thought to myself: I am never going to hear the end of this, am I? Once people stop asking me if I have children, they will start asking me if I have grandchildren. It was very defeating to me when I was already dealing with my emotions this week over learning a new career instead of raising my children.

I thought it was just me and no one noticed, but, amazingly, my clinical instructor did. The next day she said, "Phoenix, I noticed something yesterday." I figured she was going to give me constructive criticism because I have so much to learn, but instead she complimented me. She said, "Yesterday, with the patient XXX, you were so quick to ask about her nephews when she said she didn't have any grandchildren. That was very sensitive and observant of you. Not many people would have done that." I said thank you, that I had already noticed that question on the ball before ever engaging in the activity with patients, and that I hated it. To my surprise, my clinical instructor agreed. She said, "Everyone always assumes women, especially older women, are married and have children and that is simply not true. I would like to poke a hole in that beach ball and get rid of it forever. When you're out and about this weekend if you happen to be at a dollar store and see a beach ball, feel free to pick it up and bring it in. We need to write new questions."

So that's the first thing I did when I got off work. Okay, well first I showered because I have to do that as soon as I get home after working with sick patients all day. But right after that, I went to a dollar store where I found a beach ball. I bought that damn ball and you know I will be bringing it to work on Monday.

"But I Had Kids" -My Mother

(Note: This post has been edited from its original version. This version is more succint, less rambling.)

I was all set to write one post and then my mother called.

She asked how my unpacking is going. I have now lived here for a week and I am probably about halfway unpacked. I am functional. The bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom closet are unpacked. But I still have everything else like my books, office supplies, art supplies, and decorations in boxes. She expressed surprise that I wasn't unpacked yet. I said, "Well, I'm not going to just do nothing but unpack for five hours straight. I unpack a little and then I take a break." And she said, "Whenever we moved I always had everything unpacked within three days. But I had kids."

"But I had kids."

Dammit, that sentence annoyed the crap out of me.

"But I had kids."

What does that even mean? Her life was more important than mine is, that it was more important that she get completely unpacked immediately just because she had kids? That I am not fully adult with full-time responsibilities because I can afford to have some boxes lying around for a week or two? Seriously, wtf? Wtf does that even mean?? "But I had kids."

Well if you know me or if you've been reading this blog, you know I don't hesitate to say what's on my mind (as long as I can think of something in the moment). So I said, "That doesn't matter." And she immediately said, "You're right. I chose to unpack quickly."

I'm glad she followed up her thoughtless comment with a more accurate one, that she chose to do something and not she had to do something because she had kids. I made her think for one second. But I doubt she's thinking about it now, whereas here I am blogging about it.

It's just so annoying! "Because I had kids." "As a mother..." "Ever since I became a parent..." So many things are said that diminish my value and my experiences as a valid person capable of responsibility and empathy while going through life without children.

This won't affect me for the rest of the day, but I did want to write about it. Comments like this have gone from angering me to merely annoying me. But still... It just gets old.

Curious about Your Opinion

I had yet another experience that reminded me of infertility. Sooo many things remind me of infertility. I wonder if it will always be this way. Maybe, maybe not. I am more at peace now. Less raw from devastation, less angry, less bitter. But I wonder if I will ever not compare people's regular experiences to my experience with infertility. I don't really care either way; I just wonder.

We had a major assignment due last week. Some people had the class on Monday, some on Wednesday, and some on Thursday. There was an important lecture related to the assignment that some people wouldn't have until after the assignment was due. Realizing this, the professor granted an extension for the people in Thursday's class. People in Monday's and Wednesday's class complained that it wasn't fair.

Fair? Who said life was fair? (And besides, if one is arguing "fairness," wouldn't it be unfair to require students to turn in a major assignment without having the related lecture first?)

"That's not fair" is a statement that has been forever changed for me because of infertility.

An extended deadline for a group of students seems like such an extremely small thing to get upset about. I complained to my friend sitting next to me. I said, "Life isn't fair. Why are they complaining? Earlier in the semester, the Thursday class had to take a test that covered material they hadn't yet received. Was that fair? No. And so now the Thursday class is allowed to turn in their assignment after they receive the related lecture. That actually does seem fair. But what does it matter? Who said life was fair? Besides, I'm sure they'll all be able to have children. Talk about unfair..."

This is a friend I've been able to make comments to about infertility in the past, but I think I reached this friend's limit that day. The friend just looked at me and said, "You can tie that into anything, can't you?"

I was a little surprised by the comment and I felt a little judged, like it was okay for me to be upset about the hand I was dealt--as long as I wasn't *too* upset. I paused. And then I said, "Yes. It's a pretty pervasive and primal thing. The world revolves around people who have children and to not have them when you wanted them so badly is a major loss, so, yes, I suppose I can tie infertility into almost anything." And then I made a mental note that my friend had reached their limit and to not overwhelm them with my reality anymore. I will still think my thoughts but I won't share with that person anymore. I'll just journal or blog or tell my husband later when we're both home.

So I'm curious about your opinion. Can I tie infertility into almost anything? Is it appropriate or inappropriate to do so? Am I "not getting over it" or will the fertile world just never understand?

Studying Pediatrics Sucks Sometimes

Today was awful. Well, I guess there's still the rest of this afternoon, evening, and tonight. Let me rephrase. This morning was awful. It was tough and terrible and it totally sucked all of the energy out of me.

I knew this semester was going to be challenging and not just in the academic way. This semester we are studying pediatrics. Up until today, everything had been fine and for that I am grateful. I think I had even started to let my mental guard down a little... I shouldn't have. Because I got sideswiped today.

The morning started out with a quiz. Quizzes are never fun, but I was actually prepared and sitting outside the testing room reviewing my notes. That's when I overheard one classmate explaining the process of getting pregnant--the first day of your last menstrual period, ovulation, and implantation two weeks after that... To the pregnant classmate!!!!! She is pregnant and didn't know all that stuff. But of course she didn't. She didn't have to know it. She just had sex with her husband and got pregnant. For free. Gahhhh. I put my fingers in my ears to block out the conversation and kept studying.

(Side note: That quiz was hard. I studied for about four hours yesterday, took 18 pages of handwritten notes (because I am old and I handwrite everything, which is a better learning strategy anyway, but I digress on my digression), and I still only got an 80. I mean, an 80 is fine, but after all that work I honestly wanted a 100.)

Moving forward. The quiz is over and we began the morning lecture. We have an upcoming field trip to the NICU (the intensive care unit for babies) and the professor was going over the logistics. Then she said, "Is anyone else besides 'Pregnant Classmate' pregnant? Or is it just her?" Um what... Like someone is going to be all, oh yeah, I'm pregnant. I just haven't told anyone yet, but right now would be a perfect time to reveal personal information to the entire class. Gah. No one answers, so apparently no one else is pregnant. The professor went on to say that Pregnant Classmate is allowed to skip the field trip if she wants because she knows the NICU can be upsetting to pregnant women. I immediately thought: What about women who have lost babies? Wouldn't the NICU be even more upsetting for them? We don't know what everyone has been through. There might be someone sitting in that class who has had a traumatic experience in the NICU. But no one ever considers the infertile and baby loss population, do they? Now that I am home and thinking about my day, I am really regretting not raising my hand and asking that question.

Moving on. Then the guest lecturer came. She works in a NICU and was there to give a presentation about the environment, equipment, medical conditions seen there, and other related information. The first thing out of her mouth was, "Who here has kids?"

Can I just go home now? I am done with this day.

I haaate that question. It implies that only parents know about children, which is simply untrue.

So all the regular people raised their hands. We all know who has kids by now. And then the guest lecturer went on to talk about the NICU. Without even connecting her presentation to the question she just asked. Whether or not people were parents had nothing to do with the entire lecture! There was no reason to ask that question. And then, of course, the last slide of her presentation was a collage of pictures of her daughter.

It was too much. I was already stressed and sleepy. My emotional resources were low. And then I got caught off guard three times within an hour and a half. I came home and crashed for over two hours. It all just exhausted me. Studying pediatrics with fertile people can really suck sometimes.

I Don't Have Unlimited Resources

I've been waiting for it to happen. It's been awhile so I knew something was coming soon. You know what I mean: hearing a comment that we are all used to. Well, I don't know if we ever get used to them. But we do get used to the idea that they're coming.

"I don't know why she gave up. If she wants to have a kid, she can. There are lots of kids waiting to be adopted."

That's what one of my friends chose to share with me. Her boyfriend said it. Immediately I said, "It's easy to say that when you haven't been in my situation." I was calm, but, honestly, I was so pissed off. Things are so easy to say when you've never had to deal with them yourself. This kid is 25 years old and doesn't even know what he's talking about. I told my friend not to to tell me things like that because it made me hate her boyfriend.

Like I said, it's been awhile since I've had a comment flung my way.

Damn. You want kids. You can't get pregnant. Well, you can always do IVF, right? Or just adopt!

Nothing I can write can convey the anger these thoughts cause me.

Because what the general population doesn't realize is I don't have unlimited resources. I don't have endless money to pursue treatments and adoption. I don't have endless energy. I don't have endless emotional reserves.

I tried until I almost died.

Quite honestly, I wanted to be dead. But what are you gonna do when your lungs are still breathing and your heart is still pumping?

So I've done the best I can. I didn't die and it was up to me to figure out how to live my life. And then someone comes along and says I shouldn't have given up. Who are they to say that? Who are they to judge me? They have no clue what I've been through. They have no clue what it is like to live my life.

So I educated my friend. I told her I tried everything. Without going into details, I told her I tried medical intervention. I tried adoption. I tried relaxing, being patient, and waiting for a fucking miracle. Guess what. Nothing worked. I never got pregnant. I never had a baby. I am not parenting, not in this lifetime.

And then some guy, some kid with no experience, comes along and inserts his opinion into my life?

My friend said she was so sorry for my situation, that she wished she could do something. I took advantage of the opportunity. I told her the way she could help was to educate people when they said incorrect, uninformed things. She could share what all she has learned from me. IVF doesn't always work. Adoption is no guarantee. Everything costs money, not to mention all of the other unquantifiable costs. She said she could and would do that. I hope she starts with her boyfriend.

It was just another reminder of how I live a life that the majority of people don't understand. I'm okay. I've had years of experience at this. This isn't my first month, my first year. It still hurts, stings, and makes me angry. But I find solace in the life that I am creating for myself. Even though I am playing the long game and this last year feels like it's gonna kill me, I know it won't. Nothing has killed me yet.

I am still here.

Awkward Hello

My husband and I ran into an old friend of his today. I recognized him first, pointed him out, and said that we should go say hello. So we did. They became friends in college when they worked at the same place and always stayed in touch. He's a great guy- really fun and friendly, and I love his wife.

But we hadn't seen them in almost a year, not since they shared their pregnancy news with us. We were happy for them and congratulated them. They knew we tried for years and stopped trying. The road to pregnancy was not at all easy for them either.

I don't know if they had any expectations for us, but my husband and I just kind of stepped out of the picture. We live an hour apart. They have a million friends and lots of family, and I knew our lives were going in different directions. I was invited to the baby shower but declined. If I had kids or was going to have kids, I would've loved to have continued cultivating this friendship. But I don't and I'm not so I just did what was best for me.

Anyway, I haven't talked to my husband about it, but I thought it was a little awkward. But it was nice. I'm glad we ran into him. After we saw each other and said our hellos and we were just standing there I said, "So, do you have any pics?" My husband's friend immediately beamed and said, "Do I have any pics? Hahaha." He got out his phone and scrolled through about 20 pictures of their new baby wearing adorable holiday outfits. (I didn't want to admit that I didn't know the kid's name, but you can get away with saying "How cute" and "What a perfect baby" without the new parent catching on.)

The friend was with two of his friends that we'd met before, all three of them fathers to little ones. Like I said, it was a little awkward. But everyone kept the casual conversation going for about ten minutes. As we parted ways, I asked him to tell his wife hello for me which he assured me he would.

I don't know... It was brief. It was unexpected. It was good to see him. But it was a little awkward.