Handle with Care

I cannot get really close to other people's children. The first two times I learned this lesson it hurt really bad. Now I'm learning it for a third time. It sucks, but it's softened because of my previous experience. I can enjoy others' kids, but they'll never be mine. They will never think to call me with good news. They will never think to call me with bad news. They will never think to call me.

Part of this is sad. Part of this is reality. It's just the way it is.

The first time I got hurt was a long time ago. I had just stopped trying to conceive, sold my children's house, and gone back to school. I wasn't invited to a friend's kid's 6th birthday party when I had been invited to everything else previously. I had already bought the birthday presents. Then I saw the pictures of the birthday party on social media. I wasn't invited. I was crushed.

The second time I got hurt was by my niece. It only happened two years ago. She's grown. An adult. But she was mean to me. So unnecessarily mean. I was blindsided. I never wrote about it and probably never will. Maybe I shouldn't have assumed we were as close as I thought we were, but I did. Not anymore. Now I know. Being an aunt doesn't guarantee an awesome relationship.

And, most recently, another person was in my life that I really cared about. Someone else's kid. Everything seemed fine until last week. Now I don't know what was real and what was fake. I choose to hold on to my good memories. I give myself grace while I process the rest.

It's okay to love people. It's important to love people. But love makes us vulnerable, and sometimes we get hurt. We feel our feelings, learn our lessons, get back up, and go on.

I'm not mad at myself for being sensitive, but I want to be more careful with myself in the future.

Too Much Upheaval

I've been struggling for the last couple of weeks. Everything feels harder and my mood has dipped. I'm SO GLAD I moved, but I really underestimated how difficult it was going to be. That's probably a good thing. I already knew it was going to be hard. I didn't need to know how hard it was going to be before it even started. 

I will most likely move again. Our lease is up in 7 months. I like our rental property, but I can't afford to buy it and complete the upgrades it needs. Plus, it's not for sale. 

But hopefully, I won't move states again. In all honesty, I'm running out of places to move to. However, I am willing to move out of the country if any of my international readers need a caregiver. Just throwing that idea out into the universe! ;)

Infertility devastated me. I had planned to be a mom my whole life. I organized my whole life around it. Rebuilding my existence as a divorced, childless woman has been extremely hard. It felt almost impossible. Seven and eleven years later (that's the divorce and ending fertility treatments, respectively), I'm feel like I'm still picking up the pieces. I'm just so tired. 

I can't seem to figure out how to do all of the things I need and want to do: work full-time, cook good food, clean the house, sleep enough, exercise, explore my new area, make new friends, and sew. Right now I am working full-time and sleeping enough so that's good. But I want to fit in the other stuff too.

I am overweight. I do not feel comfortable in my body. Even if I do not lose any weight (that number is just the measure of our gravitational pull toward Earth anyway), I want to feel better and have more endurance. I'm convinced exercise is the missing ingredient in my life, but I haven't started doing it before work (too early!), after work (too tired!), or on the weekends (I just want a break!). 

I'm in a funk. And it makes total sense. I'm perimenopausal. I just moved halfway across the country. I started a new job where I am creating a new department and program for a large organization. I am still profoundly sad by the words and actions of my family of origin throughout my life. Current events are gravely misaligned with my values. And everything is getting so damn expensive. It's hard!

It has been so, so hard to rebuild my life after going full force in one direction for thirty-five years. Infertility was traumatic. Divorce was sad too. Not to mention, getting divorced completely changed my financial situation and I will most likely never be financially comfortable like that again. However, my peace of mind and sense of self are priceless. I'll admit I often feel frustrated financially, but I have no regrets about choosing my spirit and happiness over financial comfort.

This is another rambling post. But I cried three times last week. All short. All healthy releases. I just needed to admit to myself that the move has been hard. The new awesome job has been hard. My family is hard. The sociopolitical climate is hard. Hell, the actual climate is hard.

I am fighting depression. I am tired, but I am fighting anyway. I use the word "fight" generously. I am not "fighting hard." I am doing as little as possible, ha. I'm taking things down a notch. Again. Instead of cooking this week, I might just get healthy take-out salads for dinner. Instead of loading up my errands and chores in an effort to get stuff done, this week I'm going to take it easy. Do less. Just go to work and come home. And tell myself "fuck it" when I start thinking I should do this or I should do that. There's a time and a place for that mentality, but that is not what I need. Not this week. Not today, Satan.

I'm gonna make myself go for a walk though. For 5 - 10 minutes. Just a little something. Movement and fresh air. I don't know when... Before work? After work? On the weekend? But I'll report back that I did it. I'm going to hold myself accountable. I'm in that stage between having a low mood and being depressed, and if I don't do something differently, it will be harder to get out of it. I know this. I've been here before. 

I searched online for "fabric mess" and found this picture here. I thought a picture like that could be a relatable picture of upheaval for me. It also reminds me that great things come from creative messes. We don't create awesome new things from staying the same. 

2,000 Miles

I have moved! I moved almost 1,000 miles, and it has been a marathon. I didn't want to write about it until it was over (and I'm still surrounded by boxes--I haven't unpacked a single one yet), but the actual arduous physical move is done. 

It's been extremely difficult. All of it.

From the realization three months ago that I had to move to every single step along the way, I just kept pushing forward. I rewrote my resume. I applied for jobs. I went to interviews. I compared offers and costs of living in various places. I accepted a position. My boyfriend and I found a place to rent. We packed up all of our stuff. We rented a truck. We loaded the truck. We drove halfway across the country. We unloaded the truck. And I started a new job.

I'm sure you can guess what I'm going to write next: I am exhausted.

But it is done and I am proud. I saved myself once again. I saw what wasn't working. I saw the direction things were headed, and I made major changes.

Did I want to do all of that work? Not at all. Not any of it. But I did it anyway.

And now I am here. In a new place with a new job.

I love it. I love my rental and I love my new position.

If you've been with me since the beginning of this blog, you have traveled over 2,000 miles with me. From one big city to another. From several small towns to back to a city. You've been with me through six different addresses in three different states. Did I mention I am tired? It's definitely been a theme of this blog.

Fourteen years ago I thought I was settled. I was married and living in a beautiful house we bought for our children. When I couldn't have children, I thought we'd move to another city and settle there. A couple of more places later, I thought I'd settle there. 

Well, and now I am here. Maybe here is where I will settle. Who knows. But there are jobs. And there is some affordable housing. At the very least, we can afford our rental. 

I continue to deal with reality. I dealt with not being able to have kids. I dealt with grieving life as I knew it and life as I thought it would be. I dealt with divorce, moving, bad jobs, and a pandemic. And now I am dealing with our current cultural climate and its ramifications.

Moving was so, so, so extremely hard, but I did it.

It was worth it.

I took this picture (safely I promise!) of my boyfriend driving the moving truck while I followed in my car with two cats. It was a wild ride that took two days, but we made it safe and sound.

Our country is so beautiful.

The Observer & The Experiencer

"Why did I even have kids?"

That was another thing that my mom said to me during our phone conversation last week. It really bothered me. After we hung up, I cried. The whole conversation was tough. The whole thing was just so careless and insensitive. I called her the next day to confront her about the question above and she brushed it off as something she just said off-handedly, that she didn't mean anything by it. Okay...

But in the moment? In the moment my honest-to-goodness first thought was, "Well, that's a question only you can answer." It was my Observer speaking.

I learned about cultivating the Observer and the Experiencer at my old yoga studio in my old town. I learned so many good things there. I got so many tools for life from that place. It will always hold a special place in my heart.

I'm not sure I will explain it well, but it's just like it sounds. The Experiencer is the part of you that is experiencing a situation complete with your thoughts and your feelings and all. The Observer is the part of you that is removed from the situation and can see it without everything that comes with experiencing it. I guess, if I were to guess, the Observer is more objective while the Experiencer is more subjective. 

Why did my mom have kids? I don't know... I can guess, but I really don't know. Probably because it was expected of her and she was fertile. Probably because she never made a conscious decision to not have children. But really and truly, that is not a question that I can answer for her.

It's also not a question that should be said to me, her infertile daughter.

Surviving

What can I write on this last day of August? 

Well, I survived another summer. I appreciate all four seasons, but summer is my least favorite.
I really hate the heat.

But that's what we do, isn't it? Survive. And everything we've learned through our devastating experiences can serve us well as we navigate the uncertainty of today's world.

As infertility survivors, we know life doesn't go as planned. We know there are no guarantees even after a full life of working hard and being nice.

So what do we do? 

I highly recommend feeling your feelings. Don't deny them. Don't shove them down. Don't try to eat, drink, smoke, or spend your feelings away into nonexistence. It never works. You have to acknowledge them. You have to feel them. If not, I truly believe they get stuck and make you feel worse. So feel mad, sad, confused, frustrated, distraught, exhausted... Your feelings aren't your fault, but they are your responsibility to manage.

Just like with infertility, nobody can do it for us.

And just like with infertility, we can practice looking for the little things. The little moments of joy that we find in a good meal or a quiet moment. Appreciating the little things is not a solution to the world's problems, but it can be a personal salve. You deserve to feel good. But sometimes we have to dig really deep to find it. 

If you can't find a glimmer of joy in the moment, that's okay too. It's not your fault! That's how it is sometimes. I encourage you to dig in your heels so that you don't slide down deeper into the hole. Get out your mental pickaxe and thrust it into the wall you're clinging to. 

Hold on for better times.

💜

Collective Waiting

There's a weird feeling in the air and it feels pretty terrible. I'm feeling it from almost everyone around me, and I know a variety of people. All sides. I do not live in an echo chamber.

I know what it's like to wait. We all do. And if you've ever tried to get pregnant or adopt, you know how awful it can be to wait. Especially the kind of waiting where you hope for the best but your gut is filled with dread and despair. 

When you're on your own in feeling this way, it is very lonely and isolating. However, experiencing such strong feelings isn't any better on a collective level. We learned that during the pandemic.

We wait to see what will happen.

Some people are preparing. In their own ways for their own reasons. There are so many different lines of thought out there. Yet, some people are living regularly like nothing is on the horizon. 

It's weird times.

I didn't ask for any of this. The unsettling times. The childlessness. None of us did.

I'm no longer in the waiting room for anything regarding childbearing. I'm not trying to get pregnant. I'm not just realizing that I can't get pregnant. I'm not even in the process of creating a life completely different from the one I had planned for 35 years. I'm done with all that. All of that waiting is over.

But the collective waiting? That's ongoing. We're in the middle of it. Or the beginning. Or the end. Who knows. 

Which is a good reminder: who knows. Remember that nobody knows. We can imagine the worst. We can imagine the best. We can prepare in our own ways in an effort to ease our minds. 

But really, we just wait. 

The world is always changing. It always has and it always will. We do not know what will happen and it's okay that we don't know. For those of us that have experienced the total destruction of the illusion of certainty, we know that we never actually know. 

And that oddly gives me comfort.

Attending Weddings Alone and Childless

How do you feel about weddings? Are you invited to any? Do you love them, dread them, or do you not feel strongly one way or another? Have your feelings changed over time? I'm just curious.

Maybe I've been lucky but most of the weddings I've attended have been great. I've never been stuck in a long, boring ceremony, and most of the receptions have been a lot of fun. But when I think about it, most of the weddings I've been to were quite a while ago. I think I've only been to two in the last decade. 

I used to love weddings. I still like them, but I don't love them the way I used to. 

I think infertility changed them for me. I always associated marriage with having children for myself because that's what I wanted to do: get married and have kids. It's the norm in society. So weddings often reference future children and that always stings because 1) it sucks that that didn't work out for me and 2) I hope the newly married couple doesn't have to go through infertility if they want to conceive children.

Interestingly, I don't think divorce changed weddings too much for me. I loved being married. And I love being divorced. However, whereas getting married was really fun, getting divorced was obviously not fun. But still, my experience with marriage and divorce doesn't change my feelings about weddings.

I will say this though. I gave everyone a plus-one to my wedding. If you were going to come to my wedding, I wanted you to enjoy your time with someone, whether it was your boyfriend, girlfriend, best friend, or mother. I didn't care. 

When I think of the last two weddings I've attended, they were weird. I attended the last two weddings alone. Even when you know people at the wedding, it feels weird to go to one alone. I mean, the whole thing is a celebration of a relationship. (I don't have to be in a romantic relationship, but it's more fun to enjoy the event with someone. Twenty years ago I took my best friend to a wedding for another friend, and she and I had a great time.)

The first wedding I went to alone was because my husband didn't want to go. So he didn't go. So I traveled out of state to go to my cousin's wedding by myself. I stayed in a nice hotel room by myself and attended the ceremony (where future children were definitely referenced and I was going through infertility at the time) and then the reception by myself. Earlier in the day I went to lunch and a museum with my dad, and at the reception I ended up getting to know and hanging out with the wife of one of my cousins. I had a good time, but it felt weird to be childless and alone at the wedding.

The second wedding I went to alone was recent. I went alone because my boyfriend was very rudely and explicitly not invited. I was hurt but went anyway because it was a person very close to me. Well, it was a person who I thought I was close to. Anyway, I went. And I was the only person there in a relationship whose partner was not invited. I felt like how I feel during the holiday season sometimes, like I'm a person just looking from the outside in on everyone else's families during a joyous time. Again, it felt weird to be childless and alone at the wedding. Not to mention the hurtful things that were said.

I still like weddings. I don't know how many more will be in my future. But if I'm invited and able to go, I will. I love love. And I love the team approach to life. So I love to celebrate two people getting married and becoming a team. The ceremonies are usually short, and the receptions are fun because it's just happy people celebrating.

I still enjoy weddings, but I doubt I'll go to one alone again.

Unexpected Moment of Grief

I feel compelled to state the obvious: it's the last day of January 2024. Is it just me or did that month seem to go by pretty fast? I wasn't even having that great of a time and it still flew by. February tomorrow. Huh. How about that.

I've written so much about how far I've come from my devastation of not being able to raise children. I like to share what changes I've made and what makes me happy. I like to share that I like my life. But I also like to be real. And the truth is that I still grieve. Something will trigger my pain and then I feel the losses that come throughout life when you're involuntarily childless.

Someone showed me a picture the other day. It was someone I know very well that showed it to me. I thought they'd know better. The picture was of a baby of someone else I know very well that is now grown up. I'd never seen a picture of them as a baby. I burst into tears. 

Whoa. Didn't see that coming... 

But, I know I'm low on emotional resources these days. Plus, I'm in my season of grief, that time of year where I was undergoing IVF nine years ago. The body remembers. I give myself grace. 

You know what I did. I felt my sadness, and I let myself cry without judgment. Then the moment really did pass. It took an hour or two, but that was it. Things like that no longer incapacitate me.

But I want to acknowledge that the moments of grief still happen.

And time marches on.

Sadness Comes and Goes

I cried on Xmas. Well, first I went to work. I prefer to work on the morning of Dec. 25th. It distracts me from thinking about Xmas mornings "that coulda been."

As an aside, I feel fairly confident I will never spend Xmas morning with anyone's children ever. Maybe if my niece or nephew (who have both repeatedly said they won't have kids) have kids. Maybe.

So, I'm really grateful that I work in a hospital and have the opportunity to work on the holiday. This year co-workers were wearing silly sweaters and hats, and someone brought in a bunch of cookies and snacks. Everyone was in a good mood. It was fun. It was festive.

And then I felt sad when I got home. So I gave myself that moment too.

I love that women who are childless not by choice can share what all they have overcome and what all they enjoy now. I also love that we are still honest when we have our sad moments.

And in the afternoon of Xmas 2023, I was sad. I felt my pain. I always wanted a family of my own. I don't have that, and I never will. We don't know the future but, because of age and logistics and everything, I have most likely missed being a close part of a small child's life. I will not have holidays with them. I will not watch them grow up. I will not get to help them and play with them. 

However, I did get to watch my niece and nephew grow up. That was pretty cool. I was a teenager when they were each born. The three of us are pretty close, and I feel like we are only getting closer as we grow older and continue to choose to have each other in our lives. Speaking of, I am overdue for a visit to them both in their respective cities...

Anyway, I digress. Which is how my childless-related sadness seems to go these days too. When I feel it, I feel it... And then I eventually get distracted by other thoughts or feelings. The sadness no longer stays all day (or week or month or year).

So I didn't have a great Xmas. I've got some stressful stuff going on that I am getting through. I loved seeing my family beforehand, and I'm glad I got to work on the actual holiday. But for the first time ever, I didn't even have a Xmas dinner. And now I've already packed up my tree and decorations. The Xmas holiday is over at my house and that is fine. I also look forward to it again next year.

Now, when I'm not working, I am resting and being still. You've heard me say it a million times, but I am tired. I am climbing one more mountain before I can truly rest for a minute, but I am pacing myself for the next couple of weeks. And even with my stress and sadness, I am looking forward to the future. I love seeing family, friends, and enjoying the little things.

🔮😎

Give Yourself Time and Grace

Thanksgiving has always been a time where I can gauge my anxiety level. 

Many, many years ago I remember calling my best friend from the grocery store parking lot and telling her I was too anxious to go grocery shopping. She could not relate, but she assured me that it was fine and I was capable. She encouraged me to go inside, get what was on my list, and be done. And I did. And it was fine. But I felt really silly and slightly embarrassed that I was so anxious. And that happened way before my years of infertility.

Infertility shot my anxiety straight up. Higher than ever. Like, I was overachieving with how much anxiety one person could feel. I'm sure a lot of you understand.

And then I couldn't come down. Even after I quit trying to conceive. Even after I came up with the idea to go back to school and eventually move. I could not calm my nerves. And the smallest, slightest thing could make me feel so terrible.

Do you deal with anxiety? It's a very uncomfortable feeling. It's mental thing, a physical thing, and an emotional thing. Anxiety sucks. I wish I knew that's what I was dealing with back in high school. I had no idea. I just felt crazy sometimes.

One of the reasons why I moved to the town where I ultimately settled is because the first time I drove through it I felt at peace. The feeling reminded me of how I felt when I was a little kid living in a small town. Content, not crazy. 

I'm a city kid (because I lived in a large city for 25 years), but I think I'm really a country mouse.

I've been here 3 years now. Each year my entire body calms down a notch.

I went to the store last week to buy a turkey and a ham. I wasn't stressed at all. I admit that I took a couple of deep breaths before going into the store, but that was really only to recognize how far I've come. 

Infertility sucked and my recovery has taken a decade.

Excluded at Work

I got mad last week. Really, really annoyed.

I am somewhat used to birth announcement emails at work. I do not think they are appropriate, and I definitely do not appreciate them. But, I realize that they are a thing. I don't know why, but they are an accepted practice in the workplace. 

(And, no, I'm not against celebrating people's good news. I just know that for every birth announcement email accompanied with a picture of the newborn, there is at least one person who has just had a miscarriage or is struggling with infertility. And that person definitely did not need to see that email as they are managing everything on top of their work responsibilities.)

So, sure, whatever. So-and-so had a baby. And now the baby is born. Fine. I'm glad everything went well. Truly. That is not sarcasm. I am not a monster.

However.

Last week I received a department-wide email that really pissed me off. It was about the woman I am covering for while she is out on maternity leave. The subject was "[Baby's name] Update." And I was like, what the... I clicked on it, and there were FIVE pictures of this baby.

What. 

I didn't need that in my life.

The email said they are so happy for mom and baby and cannot wait until she is back at work. There was no mention of me who is covering while she is out. I felt like I was unappreciated, like they just want me gone so my co-worker can return. But I realize I may be reading too much into it. My feelings about everything may be coloring my perspective.

But here's what made me mad. There was never a department-wide email sent out about my graduation. That actually has something to do with the workplace. My doctoral degree is directly related to my profession and career. I don't want the accolade for my ego. But if we're celebrating people's babies, I just wanted equal recognition of my hard work for the past 16 months. You know, since it is actually an appropriate announcement for the workplace... 

I felt so excluded.

I guess only babies are celebrated as an accomplishment where I work.

I Don't Want This Default Career

About a month ago, I wrote about how working with kids has changed for me and how it has really confused me because I've always enjoyed it and I'm good at it. But as I was training to cover pediatrics for my co-worker's maternity leave, I quickly realized working with kids felt much different than it ever has. Part of that is infertility, part of it is the pandemic, and part of it is age. 

But I figured out the biggest piece of the puzzle while talking to a friend last week.

I never wanted a career in pediatrics! I only became a teacher to kill time until I became a mom. Since knowing I'm not going to be raising children, I've still worked in several different settings for children. It's what I know, and it was easy for me to get hired each time.

But I don't want to do it anymore. I reeeally don't want to do it.  

It's why I went back to school, to learn something other than pediatrics. It's why I got a job in a nursing home and a hospital, where I work mostly with older adults.

And now here I am, completely dreading my pediatrics coverage that begins tomorrow.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to work, and I definitely need the money. But dang, I haven't experienced dread like this since, well, right before I quit my last pediatrics job...

Another friend cautioned me that I'm probably still feeling the damaging effects from my last experience in pediatrics with an unstable, untrustworthy co-worker. I'm hoping I'll get in the groove of things once I get started. I have equipment at this job. I have resources. And the parents care enough to bring their kids in for services. I'm digging deep to try and find a decent attitude about the whole thing because it's what I committed to. It's what I'm going to do.

But yeah, working with kids was never going to be my lifelong career. I was going to be a mom.

Change in Feeling

Was it infertility? Or, was it the pandemic? Or, is it aging?
It's probably a combination with even more variables I haven't thought of yet.

Working with kids feels different. 

And I've worked with kids since knowing I wasn't going to be raising any. Actually, since knowing, I've worked in a couple of different positions in several different settings: preschool, public schools, and hospitals. It didn't hurt or bother me then. And it doesn't hurt or bother me now.

But something is different.

Am I sick of playing? I don't think so... Am I tired of redirecting behavior? Well, that comes with working with people no matter if they're kids or adults, so, no, that's not exactly it either.

Maybe part of it is I feel inefficient. I think Anne Sullivan, Helen Keller's teacher, had my dream job. Take the kid out to a cabin, have high expectations, and work with them 24/7. I'm kind of kidding but kind of serious. I feel limited in what I can do once a week or even five days a week. 

I still like kids. And kids still like me. I think. But I just don't want to do it anymore. And for some reason, this perplexes me and I want to know why.

Another idea I've been having is maybe I relate better to older adults now. As I work with people who are sick or injured in the hospital or elderly adults who live in long-term care, I can relate to their frustrations with their health and body. Sometimes I share that my body didn't work the way I wanted it to either, but most of the time I just empathize with their sadness and frustration.

I knew what it was like to be a stressed out kid.
Now I know what it is like to have your adult body fail you.

Maybe, after working or volunteering with children for 25 years, I'm just ready for a change. I mean, my oldest student is 32 now. My niece and nephew are grown adults. Even my own children wouldn't be little kids anymore. 

Maybe it's a case of kids grow up and so have I. Hahaha. (I don't mean people who work with kids aren't grown up. I mean I've always been very young at heart, but now I'm feeling older.)

Anyway, I wouldn't say I'm regretting covering my co-worker's maternity leave. I am grateful for the opportunity to work. I remind myself that working with kids is the one thing I know how to do confidently. But I still feel anxious and I honestly don't enjoy it like I used to, so I've just been thinking about it a lot lately.

I've read some old posts of mine recently. They remind me of where I was, what I was doing, and how I was feeling. They remind me of what I've already been through, what I've already endured and survived. So I know this pediatrics coverage will come and go. Three months is not a very long time. And I know I will like parts of it every day. 

It just feels completely different this time and I don't know why. 

Grief Anniversary

I've written about it before, but I always forget. My body always remembers.

Grief anniversaries.

But first, let me back up for a second.

The holidays are over! There were many years where I eagerly awaited the new year, knowing that all of the stereotypes and expectations of the holiday season would be behind me. The holidays don't bother me so much anymore. I celebrate the parts I like and leave the rest. They fly by so fast now. One minute I'm shopping for the Thanksgiving meal; the next minute I'm taking ornaments off of the tree.

So you'd think I would remember what comes next... My season of failed IVF.

On January 1, 2015 I went in for my first embryo transfer. I could barely sleep the night before, but it obviously wasn't from disrupted sleep due to partying the old year away. I was extremely anxious about oversleeping or having a car wreck en route to the clinic or some other disaster striking and wasting all that time, money, and energy on my first IVF cycle. (Yeah, it sucked. I hated every second of it. I only endured IVF for my children.)

This new year was weird. After months of heavy reflection, I told my boyfriend in the afternoon of NYE that we needed to take some time apart. Yeah, that completely sucked. I obviously love him, but I feel like I have two choices: stay how things are or change the situation. Much like infertility: I couldn't stay how things were (years of charting followed by repeated failed treatments), so I had to change my situation.  

It always sucks not liking your options.

And about my breakup, I still don't know what it looks like. It's only been communicated, not yet implemented. But I share here because that is what happened on my NYE. It wasn't the greatest day and I went to bed at 9:30. That has to be the earliest I've ever gone to bed on 12/31.

Of course, I woke up the next day not feeling it. But... I was REALLY not feeling it. I felt empty and weepy. And I kept thinking, but this is nothing new... I've been sad and frustrated for awhile... Why do my feelings feel so unexpected?

And then I remembered. Eight years ago I went in for my first embryo transfer. I was an anxious wreck. My husband was barely present. I was full of hope (sorta), and I've yet to have that level of hope since. Even though I liked my doctor and my clinic (a rare occurence!), the whole experience was awful.

And, spoiler alert, it didn't work.

And there I was yesterday, eight years later, feeling my grief for so many things at once.

The worst day will be on the 11th. I'm scheduled to work that day. But that's the day I found out my first IVF cycle did not result in pregnancy, and I fell to my knees just howling with my dog anxiously circling me trying to make it better.

Maybe I won't be at my best on the 11th, but I am still going to show up. Maybe I will encounter a patient that needs something only I can offer. I will go to work that day for them.

Learning to Live With It

I get that covid is not going away. We had the chance years ago to eradicate it, but, as a society, we did not. And now here we are. Stressed, broke, and muddling through...

It's very similar to, you know, infertility.

There's nothing I can do about being infertile. 

I tried. God knows I tried. Dietary changes, supplements, exercise, no exercise, meditation, medication, trying, not trying, being patient, not being patient, fertility treatments... Nothing worked. I'm infertile. I never got pregnant. 

I've had to learn to live with it.

Infertility. The pandemic. Both so devastating. Both completely life altering. 

Both SUCK.

And I'm learning how to live my life in this post-pandemic, life-without-children-after-infertility world. I'm lonely. I don't have any close friends in my current, face-to-face life. Of course, I chose to move 1500 miles away from everyone I knew. But it's not like I saw my friends often anyway. They were all busy with their kids. Add in work schedules and traffic patterns and hanging out was just no longer logistically possible. It wasn't personal.

I went to a quilt meeting last night. I didn't feel like going, but I made myself. I'm glad I did. I won't make friends if I don't invest any time and energy in others. I've been going monthly for over a year now and it feels good to see familiar faces. It's energizing to see what projects others are working on. It's just nice to smile at people and say Hello. I'm younger than everyone by twenty years, but they are all very welcoming and inclusive. If you love quilting, you belong. I appreciate that so very deeply. 

I'm stressed. Who isn't? I want to be scheduled more at work, but I also know I'm scheduled just the right amount for me right now. I'm in school and also fighting some depression, so, really, I just try to be thankful for so much every day. The bills don't stop coming though, and that stresses me out. Like I said, who isn't stressed right now?

I've been feeling like my relationship has been going through a growth phase for several months. I'm very happy with him. I'm also unhappy. It's complicated. And I'm having a hard time making sense of what I should do or not do during this weird time period. Break up? I don't want to. Move on? Maybe I need to. Leave him in a time of need? I definitely don't want to do that. But I also don't want to drown myself. It's hard to know what to do. It's hard to know what is best for him and best for me.

Learning to live with it. Infertility. Covid. Uncertainty. Stress. 

That's life, isn't it?

Unpacking is Emotional

I am still very excited about finally moving out of my storage unit, but I definitely underestimated the emotional toll it would take to unpack. Imagine having everything from your life suddenly sitting in your living room. It's overwhelming.

Feeling overwhelmed is why I got a storage unit in the first place. I was sitting in the beautiful house that I bought for my children wondering what I was going to do with my childless life. Well, I figured, I wasn't staying here. So I started to pack. 

I started with the nursery. We hadn't bought a crib or anything, but I did have a wall lined with bookshelves where I had unpacked a lot of my kids books and stuffed animals. I didn't need any of it, but I also couldn't let it go. It all went into boxes.

The boxes piled up around the house for the rest of 2015. Everything was being packed. 

In 2016 it all went into storage. What was I going to do with a bunch of onesies? I didn't know, but I couldn't deal with it at the time. So everything went into a box.

In 2018 I moved everything from storage in one state to storage in another state. I still wanted my stuff, but everything from a four-bedroom house was not going to fit in a one-bedroom apartment. Then I kept moving each year, trying to find my landing spot for the rest of my life.

Last year I bought my house. Then it still took a whole additional year to deal with/coordinate my move out of storage. It hasn't even been a month, but I still feel like I haven't really felt the accomplishment that moving out of storage is after failed IVF and throwing everything in boxes.

I'm glad my stuff is here. I'm glad I get to go through it and decide what I want to keep.

It's also overwhelming.

What do I do with all of the onesies I bought from my undergraduate university?
What do I do with my textbooks about teaching kids how to read? 
What in the world do I do with my 20 boxes of kids books?

It's a lot to be confronted with the entirety of one's life.

Oh, you had plans to have kids? Too bad.
Oh, you were a teacher (and a good one at that) but can no longer afford to be one? I'm sorry.
Oh, you were going to decorate a big house but now need to downsize? First world problems.

And it's true. Having too much stuff is a first world problem. I acknowledge my privilege and am thankful for my life. But I still get to grieve my failed plans. And I still have to figure out what to do with all this stuff.

Why wasn't I expecting an emotional reaction? I mean, this is *me* we are talking about... I have an emotional response to most everything. But, I admit, I was not prepared. This adventure in unpacking has taken me by surprise.

So I'm doing it in small chunks. I'm reminding myself that I'm on my own timeline. Yes, I want to get rid of all these boxes. And I will. In my own time.

Stress, Celebrations, & Choice

I'm in a tough spot. I've got a lot of thoughts in my head, but I haven't quite sorted them out yet. I don't know what to do and I can't write about what I don't understand. Needless to say, I am stressed and the weight of the stress and the unknown is weighing on me. 

This too shall pass.

I took a sabbatical this past winter to heal. My nerves were frayed, my confidence was shot, and I knew I needed to take some time for some serious mental rest. I used savings to pay my bills.

So wouldn't you know it... Now I'm having a home repair emergency. I need some major plumbing work done and I'm waiting on the estimate to see if what's left of my savings will cover the cost.

Logically, I can tell myself that everything will be okay. The repair is not a choice. It has to happen. So that leaves me spending my savings or shopping for loans. Both are doable. The other upsides to the situation are the problem was found, the problem is fixable, and the repair people have availability in their schedule to get it done next month. Lots to be thankful for. I just have to live with this constant level of stress until it's over.

It got me thinking... Is life ever NOT stressful? It's just felt so nonstop for the last decade.

And money and plumbing issues aren't even the whole picture. My relationship is a big part of the unknown as well. Changes need to be made, but those changes aren't in my control. 

And just like with infertility, I don't like my options. Stay with how things are? Nope. Break up? Not interested. A third option I've thought of is to change my perspective, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet. Probably because the changes that need to happen just really need to happen. Even if I change my perspective, I am still in an unsustainable situation. I guess we will see what this week brings. Or not.

Oh, hello again limbo! 

Because that's what it is. Limbo.
Waiting. Wondering what to do. Feeling uncomfortable and hating my options.

*****

So with all that vaguely said... Let's celebrate the positive.

I moved out of my storage unit!!! I repeat, I moved out of my storage unit!!! In other words, for the first time in over six years, I do NOT have a storage unit. Mission freaking accomplished.

(The rainbow picture above was taken after we loaded up our last load and drove out of the city.)

Instead, I am surrounded by boxes. Again. 
Life can be so repetitive, lol.

So I'm out! It took three days, a rental truck, and two additional car loads, with each roundtrip costing at least eight hours in gas and time. But, I'm out!! That will save money every month, and now I can finally go through my stuff I've saved. I saved it all because I didn't know where I'd end up. Well, it's here apparently. I will get the plumbing fixed and then live the rest of my life here. So what doesn't fit in my home can be passed along to others. Or thrown away.

But I'm really thankful I get the choice about which stuff I keep, donate, and throw away.

Choice. What a powerful thing...

That's it! That's my empty unit.
Yes, it was so momentous of an occasion that I had to take a picture.

*****

So, my break from school has been just that: a break from school. But it hasn't been a break. I've been moving, hosting family, and dealing with major plumbing issues. But hey, at least I had a break from assignments.

School starts again tomorrow. 

So despite my current stressors, sadness, and confusion, I'm relieved to be out of my storage unit. Also, I've been determined to relax this weekend. Can one be determined to relax? That seems contradictory... But, it's where I am at this point. Stressed but determined to relax.

My insides have been racing with anxiety, so I'm doing what helps me feel better. I'm sewing. I don't remember what I did before I started sewing in April 2019. I think I just lived with anxiety.

I picked out fabric on Friday and started a new quilt top. This quilt is for me. It will be all flannel for the top and the backing, and the batting in the middle will be wool. I made a similar quilt for my boyfriend last year, and it's the warmest quilt we have. So I'm making one for myself before winter comes. It's a simple pattern just made up of squares, but I'm already halfway done with the top.

It's not the greatest picture, but you can see the fabric that I'm using: scribble stars, polar bears, skiers, and textured solid blenders (brown, purple, green, and blue). 

Thankfully, when I choose to sew, it does make me feel better. It must be the repetitive motions, the purr of the sewing machine, and the soft feeling of fabric. It is all very comforting for me. I turn on the tv, watch 20th century movies and tv shows, and feel at ease. 

So, it's only appropriate that my mom brought me this sign when she came to visit:

How do people with kids afford life? It's just me and I am pretty stressed to the max right now. 

But I know how they do it. They just do it. They have to. Their kids depend on them. Just like I'll get my plumbing fixed. I have to. Functioning in my life depends on indoor plumbing at my home. 

We just do it. Stress, celebrations, and all. 

When Cleaning is Hard

I cleaned out more stuff today. 

I loaded up my six boxes of teaching stuff that I wanted to donate and headed to the homeschool curriculum swap. They let me set up a table and leave, only to return at the end to pick up what wasn't taken. I wasn't charging money for anything, so I didn't really need to be there. 

Of course, while I was setting up some moms stopped by my table and asked me questions. It surprised me how quickly I could jump back into "teacher mode" and start spouting off foundational skills for reading and writing. One mom said, "I feel like I should be writing all of this down." At one point, as I was describing phonological awareness, decoding, and sight words, I felt the room go silent. I could almost feel everyone turning an ear my way. But hey, I taught for a long time. I know what I'm talking about.

But... I also had to get out of there. It was a room full of homeschool moms and their children. It was a room full of people living out my dream. I really, really wanted to homeschool. My friends all told me that my kids wouldn't want to be taught by me. And if they didn't, that would have been okay. I would have found a different teacher or enrolled them in a public or private school.

But I didn't even get to try it. 

Dream big. But also, dream multiple dreams. Not every dream works out.

I came home, felt melancholy, ate my delicious Mexican food leftovers, and waited... After several hours passed, I got back into my car and drove back to the church where the event was being held. I packed up the materials that nobody wanted and brought them home. And threw them away. Maybe I should have donated it... Maybe I should have worked on finding homes for it all...

But, no, I did what I should have done.
Which was protect my mental health.
Which was getting rid of that stuff immediately.

We've been having some home repairs done on our 100+ year old house this past month, so we happen to have a dumpster sitting in our front yard. So everything went straight from my car into the trash. No regrets. I wasn't going to save the planet single-handedly by hanging onto that stuff until I found someone who wanted it. But I did save myself.

Next!

As if that wasn't enough for one day... There was one more box of stuff just sitting in our laundry room, stuff unrelated to teaching and that I wanted to keep. So I decided to find room for it. I took the box into my sewing/guest room and realized my bookshelves were full. But I also realized there was still a shelf full of pediatrics. It's like my stuff had babies! Apologies for that metaphor. 

So, I found myself pulling everything off the shelf and going through it. I set the good stuff aside for a friend and threw the rest away. I texted my friend and asked, "Can you stand one more box of school stuff? I found some more." Thankfully, she wants it and I'll mail it as soon as I can. 

The rest of it went in the trash. I love that ugly dumpster sitting on my front lawn.

And then, predictably, I cried.

I cried because I didn't get to raise my children. I cried because I'm so good at teaching, but it literally doesn't cover my bills. I cried because it's the end of the semester, it's hot, I'm sad, and I'm just plain worn out. The cry session only lasted a couple of minutes because, like I said, I'm worn out. I'm too tired even to cry.

So it's gone. Ok, ok, I admit I kept a couple of boxes of stuff that I couldn't part with. I don't know why. Maybe I'll use the stuff with my boyfriend's sister's kids when they get older. Maybe I'll donate it all a decade from now. But, for the present, it's in the shed in the backyard. 

There's no teaching or pediatric stuff in my house.

A purge indeed.

I'm glad.

When I Feel the Emptiness

There is an emptiness inside me and yesterday it really ached. I don't know why, but the news has been incredibly stressful lately. Scary. Nonstop. Maybe that's what exacerbated the feeling.

I recognized the feeling. It's a longing. It's an urge to nurture, to mother, and there's nowhere for me to put this feeling, this energy. It makes me sad. It makes me cry.

I love my life. I really do.
I love myself, my home, and my partner. I love what I do for work, and I love my hobbies.

But nothing will take the place of my children.
I really wanted to raise them. I really wanted to parent.

I shared my feelings with my boyfriend and he said we could get a dog. This was not an offensive suggestion to me. I had the same thought. It would give me something to love and something to take care of. Even if I couldn't take it to sports practice and teach it how to read.

I know I can volunteer or work with children. Lots of kids (all?) need more happy, healthy adults in their lives. I like doing this, but it doesn't fill the unique emptiness that's inside me. It's not the salve that I need. Not even close.

So yesterday I drank my coffee, acknowledged my feelings, and shed some tears. I decided it was fine if I did nothing all day. Then I decided to do something anyway. What can I say, I was bored. Plus, I had a paper due. So I spent hours and hours (and hours and hours) writing. I'm glad I made myself work even when I didn't feel like it because I woke up this morning and I think my paper is done. On to the next assignment!

The emptiness stayed with me all day. Kind of a gnawing feeling. I thought more about getting a dog. It's been four and a half years since my beloved pup crossed the rainbow bridge. She gave me great joy and comfort. Maybe it is time for another. But I'm not rushing into anything.

I thought about how else I could manage the emptiness. And I thought about pouring into myself. Can I love and nurture myself? Can I teach and take care of myself? My kids might have only partially listened to me, but maybe I could listen to myself. Food for thought... 

It's the approach I'm going with for now.

Picture retrieved from https://poetryofliving.com/2018/11/10/emptiness/

Retirement Announcement

In my last post I shared an article from an author who is retiring from aunthood. 

It's an appropriate segue to share my big news: I am retiring from pediatrics.

It's pretty major. I did not come to this decision easily or lightly. I looove kids. And they love me. It's pretty much always an instant connection when I meet a new child or adolescent. I love working with children. I mean, I've been doing it for 25 years!

It started when I was 17 and got an amazing opportunity to get trained to work with a 4-year-old with autism in his home. What an incredible opportunity for a high school senior. 

During my freshman year of college I started a mentorship program at a neighboring elementary school. We paired college students with elementary students one-on-one and met once a week for fun activities.

After graduating college, I became an elementary special education teacher. I loved it! Not the paperwork, but the kids. The relationships we built. The fun we had. Nobody ever wanted to leave my classroom, myself included. 

I tried a semester of law school, but it was boring. And pointless. To me anyway. My classmates would complain about reading for six hours the night before and all I could think was, "Yeah, but did you TEACH anyone to read? That's what matters." I mean... They were complaining about reading when they knew how to read. When they knew English and the reading was in English. I just couldn't wrap my head around their complaints. It wasn't for me. I dropped out. 

I went back to teaching.

I kept teaching until I moved with my boyfriend at the time. I wasn't certified to teach in that state so I got a job with a non-profit... Running a program that benefited children. But after six months of working in schools and training teachers, I knew I had to return.

I moved back home and went back to teaching.

That job was my favorite job I've had yet. I stayed there for three years before quitting to start a family with my new (now ex-) husband.

Oh. Maybe I should have waited until I got pregnant?

But even then... I volunteered at the elementary school around the corner. I needed something that gave my life meaning. I asked the school counselor to pair me with a kid that needed extra attention, and I would go once a week with a crate on wheels filled with books, games, and craft supplies. We would do whatever the child wanted to do for thirty whole minutes. It was so much fun for both of us.

But after years of TTC, 3 failed IUIs, and 2 failed IVFs, I knew I had to put my energy elsewhere. (Ha! What energy?? There was hardly anything left of me aside from my skin and bones.) After isolating myself in my home for several years (except for my weekly volunteering gig and my Friday nights out to eat), I decided to go back to school for a new career. 

I braved the outside fertile world. I endured a semester of pediatrics taught by insensitive professors and interacted with classmates who were parenting and/or pregnant. Since knowing I'm not going to be raising children, I have substituted at a preschool, taught middle school math, been a healthcare provider in an elementary school, and worked in outpatient pediatrics.

Some habits die hard.

But now... I am announcing my retirement. Only you all and my boyfriend know. I tried telling my mom, but she exclaimed, "But that's where your gifts are! Who will serve the children??" 

You know what? That's not actually my responsibility. I am allowed to develop new gifts and take my services to new-to-me populations.

I will miss working with kids, but I will not miss working with fertile co-workers who judge me for my methods. Like I said, kids love me. I take a different approach with them. I treat each child like they are their own, individual person. (What a novel idea!) I don't talk down to them, I validate what they feel, and I help them with whatever it is they want help with. Needless to say, they like me. Kids trust me. And that leads to a lot of jealousy in the workplace. I don't need that shit. I don't need to be treated like a 12-year-old by my co-workers. It has happened in every place I've worked (except for the aforementioned Favorite Job where I got the chance to feel valued and respected). Sorry I look 25 and sorry kids like me, but there's nothing I can do about that.

Whew! /end rant
Well, that particular rant anyway...

I didn't even have problems with the parents. That's a common obstacle. But not for me. Parents knew I had their child's best interest at heart. They knew it and they trusted me. Their child liked me and trusted me, and that's what mattered most to the parents. I didn't judge them or their child; I just met everyone wherever they were on this journey of life. The parents knew that.

It was the co-workers. And the screens. Ohhh the screens. Our poor children are growing up addicted. It's not just tv. It's cell phones and lap tops and tablets. It's not reading a book in the waiting room anymore but watching a video. It's not drawing in class but constantly checking social media. Even in grad school, my classmates were always shopping online instead of listening to the lecture. Until I can find a school or facility that uses old fashioned paper and pencil instead of computers with kids, I cannot participate. It's too much to overcome.

My last birthday was the turning point. Who knew turning 42 would be so pivotal? That's when I realized I'd been working with children for 25 years. I thought about what I wanted to do for the next 25 years. I don't plan on being able to retire, so I at least want to somewhat enjoy whatever it is I'm doing. I'm getting older and, as I look to the future, I don't want to be getting up and down from the floor all day. I already can't run and play as long as I used to. I'm just... changing. And that's okay. Physically, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually. I love kids, but I am taking my career in a new direction. I am going to build my skill set so I will be qualified to work with adults.

I am retiring from pediatrics.

It was an extremely hard decision.

But it feels right for me.