July 4th Anniversaries

I want you to choose yourself.

I want you to fiercely protect your peace.

I want you to pursue what inspires and nourishes you.

Infertility changed me.

Being childless-not-by-choice changed me.

The pandemic changed me.

2024 alone changed me.

Pic from SelfLoveRainbow

We have ONE LIFE.

(Thank you Tom Petty!)

Pic retrieved from this tribute post

I've shared that I hit extreme burnout last year. It was awful. I took the whole month of December off. I went to work and that was it. No meetings, no appointments, no traveling. I went to the grocery store and checked the mail. I did the bare minimum.

Then I spent the first 6 months of 2025 following through but not adding anything. I went to work. I went to appointments. I finished a quilt top, the hardest one I've sewn so far! And I am so close to finishing the draft of my research article that is good enough to submit for publication. (If accepted, I will get it back with lots of edits to make. But I want to submit the best work I can.)

I feel sooo much better. There are physical signs. Instead of sleeping 10-12 hours a night, I am sleeping 8-9 hours a night. There are emotional signs. When I feel stressed, I can breathe and talk myself through it instead of falling apart or shutting down. There are spiritual signs. I feel more connected to something bigger than me. I refuse to give up. I will continue living my little life sharing the light I have with everyone that comes into my orbit.

*****

July 4th.
Yesterday was a contrast in anniversaries. 

One year ago yesterday I received a phone call from my niece where she was unexpectedly and very shockingly rude, hateful, and condescending to me. When I shared a little about that phone call with other close family members, nobody reacted much. I had to explain why what she said and did was so wrong. It changed everything. It was/is very, very hard for me. I still think about it often. I give myself grace. We navigate and manage what comes our way the best way we can in the moment.

On the other hand, four years ago yesterday my boyfriend and I moved into our home. If we are still at this address next year, it will be the longest I've ever lived anywhere in my life. I cannot describe the feelings that my home gives me, but... I bought this house for the life I have now. I never planned on or even imagined raising children here. And logistically, I haven't had to change my address for the last four years. I haven't had to shut off and start up a bunch of different utilities and services. I haven't had to pack up everything and move it. 

I've been allowed to just be.

I want that for you. Prioritize your well-being.

I'll leave you with another July 4th anniversary.
Six years ago I wrote this post: The Cost of My Freedom

Pic retrieved from Ontario Science Centre

Mid-Life Navigation

It's been ten years since my last failed treatment and I still feel like I'm in uncharted waters.

I think I really wanted to be "healed" from involuntary childlessness in a way where I could work with kids full-time. I wanted to be "cool" and unbothered by anything. Before trying to get pregnant, I taught special education in various public, private, and charter schools. I also worked in child advocacy roles for non-profit organizations. Since my last failed treatment, I have taught preschool, taught middle school, worked in K-12 schools as a districtwide service provider, and worked in outpatient pediatrics at two different hospitals. 

I'm even going to reach out to an area private school that has an opening for a part-time specialist. I like kids and they like me. Plus, I have decades of experience working with thousands of kids ages 5 and up. And honestly, I need to make more and I'm interested in what they pay.

It's hard to quit what you know.

But it's not good for me. I can admit that now.

Infertility really impacted me and my life.

Other people's parenting bugs the crap out of me. If I could manage a classroom full of 20 kids that weren't mine (where a minimum of 5 at all times were on behavior plans), why can't parents manage the one child that is theirs? Yes, I know about attachment theory and all of the other reasons why children will act differently with their parents compared to other adults. But still... 

In my moments of frustration in the past, I would console myself with the fact that I would get my own opportunity to parent. That I would get to make my own decisions and make my own mistakes. That I would get to feel my own unconditional love and excitement and frustration and overwhelm as a parent. That my day would come.

It never did.

And as I've dealt with other people's parenting since ending all efforts to try and get pregnant, I don't get to give myself that same consolation. I know I will never get my chance. 

It's really fucking hard.

And it really, deeply affects me.

And I can only share this honestly a full year and a half after my last stint working in outpatient pediatrics. Between the horrendous management and the rude and judgmental parents, working with kids in the fall of 2023 was very damaging for me.

(Maybe if there had been any respect from my bosses or the children's parents at the time it would have been different. But I got more respect from my bosses and the parents as a first year teacher at age 23 than I did at that last job as an educated and experienced 44-year-old. It was SO weird.)

I didn't know what I was going through at the time, but the damage spiraled. I felt awful on the inside and I was very unhappy. I was judging myself and feeling very angry. I carried all of my frustrations around with me at all times. I took it out on my boyfriend and his young adult son that was living with us at the time. I have since apologized, but it was a very terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time.

And I don't like to admit ANY of that.

I LOVE kids. I love working with kids. I love parents. I love supporting parents.

But the truth is, I don't like a lot of people's parenting. I don't like permissive parenting, and I don't like authoritarian parenting. And I hate the way that screen use is changing childhood. 

And I don't have kids. So I don't have to fight these battles.

One of the reasons why I went into teaching in the first place was to start collecting stuff for my kids. After over ten years of collecting, I had thousands of kids' books, games, toys, and projects. I was an elementary school waiting to happen haha. Then, after that last job in outpatient pediatrics ended, I re-homed all of my materials. Every single thing. I kept nothing.

Now I feel drawn to working with older and elderly adults. I can empathize with bodies not functioning as expected. I want to learn about the other end of the spectrum of life. We are all aging, and it's practical information to know. I also realized: we grew up the same. Only generations older than me had pencil, paper, and the telephone on the wall in the kitchen. 

So that's where I'm at with that. Working with kids. It's what I know and in a way I love it, but it's also not that good for me. It's not where I want to grow, not what I want to learn more about. I haven't completely ruled out ever doing it again, but I'm extremely hesitant to get into another pediatric situation.  

Acknowledgment and acceptance without judgment.

It's not my fault infertility changed everything. 

I'm just navigating this life I have.

Picture found on a blog post about navigating a boat

Reflecting, Resting, and Celebrating My World

If you read my last post, it was embarrassing but I needed to be honest with myself and confront my feelings. I'm not convinced it was a good or even decent post, but I wrote it and hit the publish button anyway. And now this post is a rambling road of meandering thoughts. Buckle up! Lol.

I like to read what Nedra Glover Tawwab writes and a question she posed recently was, "What do you feel entitled to?" I've kept it simmering in the back of my mind. And, I think something I feel entitled to is an easy relationship with my parents. I mean, they did their part (raised me with love, resources, and experiences), and I did my part (grew up, worked hard, and created a financially independent and sustainable life I enjoy). So why can't we just get along easily? 

Well, because it's not that simple. Nothing is. Everything is so layered and nuanced.

So I'll continue to notice and reflect. Change what I can, and practice accepting what I can't. 

So yeah, reflection... December is a good time for that. 

And in my reflection this morning I realized something: I was going through my first round of IVF this time of year ten years ago. Holy shit. How can ten years feel so recent and also so long ago?

I'm not going to regurgitate for the millionth time everything that's happened in the last ten years.

But I did take a moment to picture my life in a snapshot then and my life in a snapshot now.

Then: living in the beautiful house I bought for my children. Lost, vacant, empty... Lonely. Bored. Profoundly sad. Feeling traumatic loss and deep grief but not knowing that's what I was feeling. Didn't understand it, didn't have words for it, certainly had no support for it. Terrified.

Now: living in an old house I bought for myself. Warm, cozy, content... Thankful, proud, relieved. Enjoying the little things. Excited about the quilts I want to make. Resting for an extended period like the rest of my life depends on it because it does. 

Speaking of rest... Why is it so counterculture to rest? In one way, it's kind of trendy. "Live simply! Do less!" In another way, it's totally judged. "Oh, you have time for a nap? Must be nice." Why do other people want me to be busy? I've been busy my whole life and, while I've gained a lot of education and experience, how has being busy ever benefited my health, relationship to myself, or social connections?

Going through IVF ten years ago was horrible. Talk about being busy! The whole process is constant injections, blood draws, and ultrasounds. And that's just the physical part. There's also dealing with your own feelings and expectations, not to mention everyone else's feelings and expectations. It's too much to get into right now because I left all that behind for many reasons.

I couldn't fast forward through the last ten years, but I'm glad to be on this side of things now.

I like the life I've created for myself. I was reminded again yesterday when I went to the dentist. I ran into an acquaintance there who said she'd been meaning to get together but has been so busy with her kids. Then the dental hygienist was making small talk and, as a former teacher, I can easily banter about kids, school, and the ups and downs of it all. The hygienist was not complaining, but I could tell she was stressed. Parents need so much more support than they get. (But that's not what this blog is about! Lol.)

With those two conversations, I felt like I was living in the Parenting World for about an hour. And it felt really different. There were different routines, schedules, demands, and concerns. It's honestly pretty much completely different from my life. One isn't better or easier than the other. They are just different.

It just showed me how much my hard work has paid off. I didn't get to have kids, so I didn't make myself stay in that world. I created a life that I want to live, a life that works for me and my circumstances. I posted this quote on one of my first posts, but back then it was a process I was working through. It really rings true now.

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.

Your Friendly Reminder To Do What You Want

I finally had some days off last week. I spent them running errands and going to medical appointments. I have some days off this week too. I am spending them doing what I feel like. Sewing, sleeping, watching tv. My house needs cleaning and decluttering, but I am very tired.

I will admit that I rented a storage unit. I accept that I'm keeping too many keepsakes, tea cups, and framed things, but I'm not ready to purge any of them yet. So yesterday I got a small storage closet to get them out of my house. But today it's raining so I'm not going to move anything.

I am resting instead.

We have all been through so much in the last couple of years, and that was on top of what we'd already been through before that. It's a hell of a lot. It's demanding. It's exhausting. It's hard on our bodies, our minds, our hearts, and our souls.  

How can you give yourself a break? What demands can you decrease or set down altogether? Where in your day or week can you give yourself some time to do nothing? 

The bills don't stop coming and neither does the bad news.
How can we shift our thinking so that we see and recognize the good stuff too? 

Like, I get aggravated with how much utilities cost, but I also love having indoor plumbing in my home. Going to the grocery store stresses me out, but I'm glad I have access to food. I don't say these things in a flippant way, and cultivating gratitude for all of the little/big things in life doesn't solely sustain me. But it does help me. So I'm sharing in case it helps you. 

Our brains are hardwired to hold on to the bad information. It's a protective action. I've had to put in a lot of work over the decades to learn how to see and recognize the good. It doesn't dismiss or absolve the bad, but it does help balance it out.

The loss of motherhood was more than the loss of my lifelong dream and my primal yearning to raise and nurture little humans in my home as they grew to be adults. It was also the loss of societal roles, normative routines, and expected milestones. It was the loss of a life that was completed structured around having children. It was the loss of relationships with family and friends as every single one of them changed. It was the loss of connection with others. It was the loss of connection with myself. It was the loss of who I was and who I thought I'd be. 

And then we all endure a pandemic? One that never really ended, it just wore us down as we adapted to this neurological virus becoming endemic.

Moving sucks. Finding a job and place to live. Packing, moving, closing down accounts, opening new accounts, changing your address on everything, learning your new town and neighborhood, meeting people, finding a place for yourself... It all takes years. And so many of us move so often. It sucks. It really sucks.

Divorce sucks. Changing your name back sucks. Even when it's "easy," it still completely sucks. It's the end of a relationship that you thought would be there forever. It shook my foundation, my sense of security. It was also freeing because I was so painfully lonely. But it still sucked. I don't ever, ever want to get divorced again.

Working a job you hate sucks. But how else are we going to buy our milk, coffee, fabric, car insurance, and rent/mortgage? I'm extremely thankful that I like what I do at my job. I worked hard to find something I liked and was good at. But not everyone gets that chance. 

It's a lot. It's a lot of stress. For anyone. And for so many of us, we are navigating it all under a thick blanket of disenfranchised grief. It can make everything heavier and harder. 

What can you quit? 

I'm a big fan of quitting. I'm countercultural like that. If it sucks, I quit. My parents used to worry that I'd had so many jobs, but now all of my experiences are such a benefit to my career. I've worked in multiple industries with all ages in all settings, and the skills are transferrable. I quit law school. I quit my marriage. I quit infertility treatments. If it's not good for us, we should quit. 

Life is too short.

Can you do less? Can you rest? Can you go to bed earlier and/or get up later?

What do you do to get in the flow? 

You deserve to enjoy your life.

(Artwork above found here for sale.)

(And listen to the song Enjoy Yourself, It's Later Than You Think here.)

End of an Era

It's over. My pediatrics coverage for my co-worker on maternity leave has ended. I am re-retiring from working with kids, and I gave away every single workbook, manipulative, curriculum set, and intervention tool I had. Even better, it ended on a great note with an awesome last appointment with a child and her grandmother. And now I am done. 

I was going to call this post "It is done." But... Ha! Apparently, I already did that in this post here when I quit my last pediatrics position and retired the first time (after working with kids for 25 years). This last stint really drove home the fact that I have moved on. I have moved on in terms of what I want to learn, how I want to grow, and whom I want to serve.

Quite honestly, the last three months felt like major regression. It was a big hit to my mental health, and I processed a lot here on this blog. Working with kids felt so different for a lot of different reasons, the details of which I won't go on about here anymore. It's over. But the changes really confused me. And bothered me. But now I accept them. And I'm glad to be done.

It's the end of an era.

Infertility Changes Things

I am halfway through my pediatrics coverage for my co-worker who is out on maternity leave and... I just don't like it. Quite honestly, it has been messing with my mind. I have always loved kids, always loved working with kids. But apparently, I am freaking over it.

I've said before that I never intended to have a career working with kids. I became a teacher to kill time until I became a stay-at-home mom. Spoiler alert: that never happened. Then I kept working with kids because that is what I knew and what I was good at.

I was really resisting the idea that infertility changed that for me. But I'm starting to be honest with myself. Infertility and being childless not-by-choice DID change it for me. I accept that now.

Infertility changes everything.

It's not entirely infertility's fault. There are some other factors that I just don't like now. When I started working with children, there were no iPads. Kids were not constantly plugged in. Kids did not expect to be entertained all of the time. Kids eventually got bored and felt motivated to read or to engage in creative play. Not anymore.

But infertility IS a major part of why I don't like teaching or working in pediatrics anymore. I don't want to deal with the consequences of other people's parenting. (Or the lack thereof.) I didn't get to parent, so I don't know kids' pop culture anymore. And I don't care. I still haven't seen Frozen, which is old by now, and I know I never will.

It's a world I'm not a part of. I've created a whole new world for myself, one that honors who and where I am now. Going back into pediatrics feels like major regression. It also makes me irritable. Just ask my boyfriend. (Thanks for the support, babe! It's almost over.)

I also traveled and saw my family this weekend. That is different too.

I talked to one of my aunts about my research project, involuntary childlessness after infertility. She was very receptive and even read my powerpoint presentation. I used to not be able to talk about the topic at all, especially with fertile people. That has changed.

I got along with my mom too. That's new. Of course, I am giving myself full credit for that one because she is still difficult. But I just don't care anymore. Not like I used to. Her personality is not my fault, and I am not going to make it my problem. I stood up for myself when needed, but mostly I just redirected the conversation to better topics when ugliness started rearing its head. 

At one point she was trying to tell me what my boyfriend and his young adult son should be doing. I told her that her comments were full of judgment, and she argued with that. But I did not acquiesce. She has not made an effort to get to know my boyfriend and his life, nor does she know much about his son. In addition to telling her how judgmental she was being I said, "I don't have to worry about any of that. I don't have kids."

She started arguing with me!!!

She said, "Well, that's not true." (It's not true that I don't have kids??) She continued, "You take care of a lot of people. His son is living in your house right now so that gives you a say. You take care of your patients. You take care of..." I cut her off. I simply said, "I. Don't. Have. Kids. All I have to take care of is myself."

Geez, she is such a control freak. And a self-professed expert on everyone else's lives.

Anyway, sorry about that. I just needed to vent about my mother who will never get it.

But I HAVE changed. I DO care less. I don't expect her to understand, and I've stopped explaining myself. It's progress. And I have infertility to thank for that.

Infertility changes everything.

Renewed Appreciation

The biggest reason why I have kept this blog anonymous (hopefully!) is because I have written very honestly about my family. What they have said to me and how I have felt about different things throughout the years... This blog has been a safe place for me to vent, and I'd hate for them to find it, read it, and get their feelings hurt.

I love my family.

I love my mom, my dad, and my sisters. They gave me the greatest childhood, and I know I can count on them if I need anything. 

No, they don't understand infertility. Kind of, like, not at all... But they do know how sad I was and how much I suffered. They know I left my marriage (obviously), moved to a new state (also obviously), and created a whole new life for myself. They haven't always understood it, but they are so happy for me that I am happy.

My parents and oldest sister just visited for the weekend. I cried when they left. (By now, you know that I am a crier lol.) They were tears of happiness because I love them so much and tears of sadness because I miss them already.

Families are weird. We are just born into our family and that's who our family is. They remember all the embarrassing stuff we did growing up and they kinda get fixed ideas about us. 

For example, I'm the stressed out, anxious planner in my family. Yes, I need to chill out a little, but I also accept myself. Our strengths are our weaknesses and our weaknesses are our strengths. Channeling my anxiety productively has led to my new home, my new profession, and my newfound happiness. (Also, when my family needs to know something they call me! Lol. They know I have everything written down.)

Oh man, I needed to see my family. It reconnected me to them and to myself in ways I can't describe and didn't anticipate.

I didn't get to have my kids and raise them. But I do get to have my parents and sisters in my life.

I'm done taking that for granted.

Mothering Myself

Oh, what a day! I slept horribly, woke up early, and tried to break through my groggy fog with coffee. But then it got good. I attended Sarah's online yoga class and it was incredible. It was so seemingly simple but also a full body experience. And I attended with four other women, two I "know" from blogging and two I didn't know. Altogether we represented three different countries. Pretty freaking awesome. I loved it.

I felt so good and grounded afterward... I ended up going out to eat at a restaurant.

What??

Yes. Yes, I did folks. After practically hibernating for 25 months I went out to eat on freaking Mother's Day. Hahahaha. I crack myself up. But it was awesome. Infection numbers are really low in our rural county so I felt comfortable. Also, we went at an off time (late afternoon--after the church crowd, before the dinner crowd) so it wasn't crowded, which added to our comfort. I ordered bacon wrapped shrimp, which I used to eat every Friday night but haven't had since I moved out of state FOUR years ago. Then a large party of four men and four teenage boys sat in the same area as us. Not a Mother's Day vibe in sight, ha! No one wished me a Happy Mother's Day and nobody offered me a flower (which, honestly, I would have taken lol). Dear God, the food was so good. Oh, it was so good. My boyfriend didn't have to cook. I didn't have to do the dishes. It. Was. Glorious! And on a day when I used to never leave the house. Wonders never cease...

So, that was my day. And below is the post that I had planned for today. I wrote it a week or two ago and now here it is for you.

Take care of yourself. You are important.

*****

Disclaimer: 

If my mother read this, she would be crushed. She has her own traumas that inform her behavior. She loves me. She really does. And I love her.

HOWEVER

This is my truth.

*****

I was emotionally neglected as a child. My feelings were discounted and invalidated. My developmentally appropriate behaviors were judged and punished. I was called names, told what to wear, and was forced to go to church three times a week. This was during a time when I was enrolled in all honors and AP classes and highly involved in extra-curricular activities. A typical day for me, from waking up to going to sleep, was at least 16 hours long. I was exhausted, not to mention clinically depressed. I was your typical overachiever, but the implied message I often got at home from my mother was that I was selfish and ungrateful.

The thing that sticks with me the most was being told, "I will always love you, but I do NOT like you. I'm going to this dinner and I will pretend in front of your father that everything is fine," as we walked out the door to celebrate my 18th birthday.

I had to be my own mother. I had to take care of myself emotionally. The skills I learned as a child and teenager have served me well in life, but at what cost? 

I looked forward to mothering my own child(ren). I looked forward to holding their hand when they were sick instead of making fun of them for being dramatic. I looked forward to cooking them breakfast instead of sleeping in every day. I looked forward to supporting them through difficult jobs, relationships, and decisions instead of telling them that they didn't deserve to make more money or telling them, "That's just life."

I know it wouldn't have been fair to my child(ren). It was not up to my kids to help me heal my childhood wounds. But I will always be honest and... Honestly? I was looking forward to creating what I never had.

I didn't feel supported emotionally when I was young and I don't have a healthy adult relationship with my mother now. The criticism and attempts to control me have never stopped. I never seem to be doing the right thing. It doesn't feel good, but I no longer take 100% responsibility for it all.

My mother had a tough childhood. She has her own unresolved traumas. Older me can empathize with her and I understand that she does the best she can. I know she loves me. I know she wants the best for me, even if we don't agree on what that is. I'm an adult and I DO know what is best for me now.

It's just another thing that stings, another thing that infertility took from me. 

I don't get to mother my children. But I will continue to mother myself.

*****

To end on a funny note, my mom found this card I made her 30 years ago and texted me the picture this morning. You can't say I'm not honest! Hahahahaha.

Lessons Learned

Where I am today with infertility and living my life without children:

• Nothing will make up for my lack of children and loss of motherhood. Nothing. Not a career, not a partner, not a pastime. No thing. Not a single thing, not a million things.
• I miss my children every day and I think of them as my guardian angels.

Also

• I'm playing the shit out of the hand I was dealt.
• My life (losses & pandemic aside) may be better than anything I could have planned.

Also

• My current life came at a cost I can't explain.
• Once I lost what I most cared about, I gained a freedom I can't explain.

Also

• Part of having boundaries includes not explaining myself. ;)

What have you learned? Where are you today?
"Good" or "bad," I will meet you wherever you are.

Another Good Cry

I had another good cry today. It came out of seemingly nowhere. Then again, it does happen to be seven years and one week after my first IVF didn't result in pregnancy. I always seem to cry more January through March. Like this morning. Tears streamed down my face for at least ten minutes.

All I could think was, "Thirty-five years is a long time to think you're going to be a mother. It has only been seven years of knowing I won't be a mom... Go easy on yourself..." 

So I sat there. And cried.
Then I went on with my day. 

I don't really know what else to do. If I don't cry, I just feel cranky and irritable all day. So, I cry. 

I'm happy. I'm sad. I'm both at the same time. It's complicated. I know you understand. 💜

Positively Overwhelmed

I've built a strong foundation for the rest of my life. I have my values, my skills, and my experiences. But I still feel insecure. I'm working on accepting the uncomfortable feelings I'm feeling right now. It's really uncomfortable. Really, really uncomfortable. In one moment I feel strong and in the next moment I feel self-conscious and self-critical.

Gahhh this is my life with anxiety. 

I'm tired of it. I usually manage well, but it turns out a lot of stress can still send me spiraling. I'm so glad I'm in my forties, not my teens or twenties. I have better coping strategies now. 

I notice my feelings. I don't judge them. I sit with them. I get what information I can from them. 

And I keep going. 

It makes sense I feel this way. But even if it didn't make sense, my feelings would still be valid.

Learning this new job continues to kick my butt. I got some feedback today that was delivered constructively but was still hard to hear. My car has been in the shop for weeks. I like my rental car and so far the process is going smoothly. So there's lots to be thankful for, but it's still a pain. Something to keep track of, something to pay for, and something to plan around. It takes up head space. Not to mention I'm moving. I'm sitting around boxes. My boyfriend and I will be physically moving all of them soon, along with the furniture. But first, we decided to repaint the kitchen before moving in, which has turned into repainting the living room as well. There's a lot of good, but it's a bit overwhelming. Plus, my sewing machine and all of my fabric are packed away.

I am out of balance.

But that's how it goes sometimes.

In my experience, life doesn't happen for years and years. Then life happens all at once.

Around the Corner

I can't believe I'm quoting Gwen Stefani on my blog. It's not that I have anything against her. I remember seeing No Doubt play twice back in the late 90s. I just never thought I'd be quoting her. But here I go:

"It's weird how things happen and you just don't see things
that are right around the corner after such devastation."

I was reading an article on People where Gwen was talking about how lucky she felt to have fallen in love again. I love love and feel lucky that my boyfriend and I crossed paths when we did, so the romantic in me was really enjoying the article. But that quote was really powerful to me. After infertility. After divorce. While still not yet having found my place in my new career.

*****

I talked to my mom yesterday. She is always pushing back on me. I never seem to be doing the right thing according to her. She called me yesterday and, even though I was in the middle of quilting for the first time in weeks, I answered my phone to visit with her for a bit. She asked what I was doing, I told her, and she immediately said with a weird judgmental tone, "Do you ever do anything else besides quilting?"

What's wrong with quilting?

What's wrong with me? 

And, to be quite honest, why aren't you worried about my sisters?
They both currently have significant issues that are affecting them.

However, my sisters are married, have kids, own their houses, and have jobs. I am divorced, without kids, a renter, and unemployed. Huh. It turns out going against the norm really bothers some people. (Oh well. Their problem, not mine.)

*****

I definitely don't feel like I need a partner to be happy. But I do have a partner and he does make me happy, so I am incredibly thankful for that. Despite living in similar places across the same three states throughout both of our lives, our paths never crossed (that we know of) until we were in our late 30s. It was the perfect time for the two of us to meet for so many reasons. Any earlier would not have been the right time. But now is perfect.

I didn't know I was going to meet him. Meeting someone was the last thing on my mind. I was busy and I was content. I had just moved to a new state and had a new life to create. I had worked hard to be where I was and I was at peace on my own.

I had no idea what was just around the corner... :)

*****

In a way, it makes me feel a tiny bit better about the future. In a time when our country is experiencing so much open hate and violence, it's helpful for me to remember that I do not yet know the good that is coming.

Thank you for the reminder, Gwen. 

Surviving Right Now

I'm still here; I just haven't had much to say. More precisely, I've had plenty to say but haven't felt like saying much. I feel like I am cycling through the same tired topics in my head. It's much like... Y'know... Infertility...

Some things don't have a definitive ending. They happen over time and change your life forever. It can take years to figure out how to live again within your new reality.

I think that's how I'm surviving right now. I'm relying on what all I learned while surviving infertility. Establishing boundaries. Practicing acceptance. Cultivating gratitude. Enjoying the little things.

None of it is easy, but what is the alternative? If I'm miserable enduring something and I'm miserable while working to change it, well then, sign me up for the work. I may not be able to change anything that's happening around me, but I can always work on myself.

And I say "work on myself" lightly. I don't have much left over these days. I go to work, I run my limited errands, I do my laundry, and I sleep a lot. But that is enough. Especially right now.

 

Happily Ever After

Two recent occurrences reminded me that my life is not an acceptable narrative to some people.

I wanted kids and I don't have them?
Well, it must be my fault. And I'll never be happy without them.

No and no. But I refuse to explain anything to satisfy someone's fleeting questions about my personal life and trauma. It took me years to get where I am today physically, emotionally, spiritually, socially, and geographically. Why should I and how could I possibly satiate their curiosity in five to ten minutes? Especially when my life doesn't have the "right" ending for them.

Instance #1

A co-worker questioned my decisions about adoption and foster care. Regardless of the fact that she barely knows me and knows nothing about my own experiences with adoption and foster care, she not only asked if I had thought about either but she also seemed to pass judgment on the fact that I had done neither. Gross. I just briefly said something along the lines of, "Adoption is a lot harder than people think and the primary goal of foster care is reunification of the biological family." 

"Yes, but, if you really wanted kids..." (Yes, she really said that.) 

I'm done with conversations like that, with people like that. I wasn't there to correct her. We weren't in an educational or therapeutic setting. We were at work where such personal discourse is neither appropriate or likely to be well received. "Yes, but..."

No.

Or rather, I think I gave a dead end, "Hmmm..." out loud.

Conversation over.

Instance #2

My mom asked me if I wanted a Halloween box this year. I'm so glad she asked. She likes to send holiday themed boxes throughout the year. Not to my sisters and me. But to my niece, nephew, and me. It always makes me a little sad because I know she would be sending them to my kids. I like the candy, but I don't know what to do with the little toys and holiday trinkets. 

This year she asked me if I'd like one or if she should give mine to the little girl down the street. I immediately texted back, "Give it to the little girl down the street! She will love it." I also said those boxes always make me a little sad so it's okay to always give them to the little girl down the street. I wasn't sure how my mom would react, but I wanted to be honest.

She wrote back, "I miss sending them to you! But I understand. Phoenix, we love you more than life. You aren't too old to adopt, especially a toddler or a preschooler."

😑

First of all, I think it's weird that she formally addressed me by name in a one-on-one text message. But secondly, I AM too old to adopt. That process takes a long time and, as we all know, it isn't guaranteed. However, thirdly, and most important to me, it is not the responsibility of a baby/toddler/preschooler to make me happy! Putting that expectation on a child is unfair, twisted, and cruel. And I feel like that's what people are saying when they say, "Just adopt/foster!" Adoption and foster care can be extremely wonderful, but they involve very complex issues involving many people's lives.

This is not up for discussion. Definitely not with co-workers. And apparently not with my mom. I'm tired of explaining it to people who don't listen. Why can't people accept my life as it is? I do.

I did not reply. I never brought it back up and neither did she.

Conversation over.

*****

That sucks. Five and a half years after ending fertility treatments and I still get questions and assumptions thrown my way. I understand I'm in a population that's misunderstood and not often talked about, but that doesn't mean it's my responsibility to educate everyone at every encounter. Especially if it's a waste of my time or leaves me feeling drained. 

Not everyone's story ends with motherhood.
But I know you all know that. 

I've been sharing my most private thoughts here for the past four years so I know you all know that I've been working hard, both through grief and also through moving, grad school, divorce, and starting a new career.

It annoys me when I feel like people question my life without children. It makes me mad when they assume that their idea for me to foster or adopt a child is easy, a solution, and something I haven't already put a great amount of time, thought, and research into. I don't like it when people don't let me have my ending to my own story. 

*****

I endured years of infertility. 

The adoption agency I decided on went bankrupt. 

I used to work for a foster care agency and have had extensive training on trauma-informed caregiving strategies. I would have needed an equally committed partner to engage in foster care. My ex-husband did not have that desire or skill set and that was okay and perfectly understandable to me. 

After wanting to be a mother for as long as I could remember, I realized I was not going to be raising children in this lifetime.

Since I didn't have the life I wanted, I decided to want the life I had.
I decided to create a life I wanted to live.

So after taking full advantage of what it had to offer (e.g., in-state tuition, opportunities for clinical rotations), I moved out of the city like I dreamed of doing. I embraced all of the changes, expected and unexpected, that came with that. And I graduated, passed the board exam, and now practice in my new profession. 

I love it. I spend my work days helping others. I live in a warm home with good food and a great boyfriend. And after a lifetime of searching, I finally found my medium as an artist: quilting. 

It may not look like what others expect for me, but I worked hard to create this life for myself.

I like my happily ever after. 

(Picture from The Paper Bag Princess, Story by Robert Munsch, Art by Michael Martchenko, 1980)

Another Pregnancy Announcement

Pregnancy announcements used to REALLY bother me. It was so hard to manage my feelings of jealousy and sadness. Now that I'm not trying to get pregnant anymore, they bother me less. Usually.

I was texted the news of someone's pregnancy recently. In the past I appreciated being texted this information. That way I could feel my feelings without masking my initial reaction. Then I could set my own feelings aside and express a genuine congratulations. Well, that's how it was for me in the past. Like I said, pregnancy announcements just don't bother me like they used to.

But leave it to my family...

My sister texted my other sister and me to tell us that her oldest stepdaughter is pregnant. Just typing that brought a lump in my throat. Because it's remembering the text. She didn't just tell me privately (which I would've preferred) and she didn't just tell us the news. She sent the cutesy pictures that the couple used to promote, er announce, their pregnancy and she also texted a video. I did not watch the video.

Dammit.

That was my honest first reaction. This totally changes the family dynamics now. This changes all of the holidays. In my jump-to-extremes mind, this changed EVERYTHING.

But it doesn't. It just means that my sister is becoming a grandmother and my parents will become great-grandparents. Hopefully, all goes well with the pregnancy and delivery (something only fertility-challenged women think about with every single pregnancy announcement we hear) and then life will go on. 

I already vented to my boyfriend, saying I had no interest in spending any holiday this year with a pregnant woman. Then I complained about how googly-eyed my parents get nowadays when they're around a baby or toddler and how it makes me sad and uncomfortable. I got annoyed ahead of time and told him that my sister better not text me any newborn pics. I basically just said every ugly thought I had.

I don't like my feelings. They're not nice. But I accept them. I'm not going to hate myself for having them, which would only make me feel worse. I know these feelings come from a place of deep pain. I can practice having patience and compassion with myself as I continue to heal. I know I am happy for my sister's stepdaughter. I don't wish infertility on anyone.

Also, there is a pandemic and what I'm complaining about already (the holidays and time spent with family) may not even happen this year! So as soon as I complain about a not-even-planned-yet holiday season, I remember how lucky and fortunate we will all be if we can even get together in just three and a half months.

Anyway... 

I don't feel like I'm writing very clearly, but there are a couple of points I wanted to make here:

1. Pregnancy announcements no longer bother me like they used to.
   
   
2. Except sometimes a particular announcement will still catch me off guard apparently.
   
   
3. I don't like that I have not-nice feelings about it all still, but I also don't judge myself for it.
   
   
4. Pregnant family members or no pregnant family members, we should all be so lucky to be able to travel and gather with loved ones again this year.

House Hunting Hurts

So I'm moving again. For those keeping count, this will be my third move since starting this blog. It will be my fourth move since selling the house I bought for my children. Moving is hard, but each situation I move myself into is such an improvement for my mental health.

For this move, I considered renting and buying. I want to rent first to make sure I like the area before buying a place, but there isn't a lot available to rent. Also, I'm sick of moving and I'm just ready to settle down and I pick this town. I got a job there and I can quilt anywhere. Eventually, I will meet a friend or two. Or at least have friendly faces at work.

The pandemic is making everything so much harder.

And I wasn't exactly at the top of my mental and physical health game before this. I give myself a ton of credit for all of the work I have done with processing my grief, but I am still emotionally injured.

Overall, I am so grateful. I have love and meaning in my life. My boyfriend is wonderful and I love my new career. The last missing piece is a Home. I know that home is where the heart is and home is what you make it and all that, but I really desire a single physical spot where I can put all of my books on the shelves. I want to stop changing my address and I want to finally unpack all of my boxes.

I'm 40. I'm ready to settle down and live the rest of my life. If possible.
But as always, I will go with what reality brings.

So back to moving. I started looking at houses to buy. At first it was kind of fun, looking at places and trying to imagine myself living there. But then three different houses I was interested in went into pending in one week and I felt such a disproportionate amount of loss that I knew I needed to step away from the process.

I cried all last week. By now you probably know that I'm a crier. It's how I usually process my feelings. But those tears HURT. Those tears were all about getting excited about something major for the rest of my life and then losing it before it ever happened. Way way way too familiar.

It took me by surprise. At first, I was so mad at myself. "I'm so damaged, I can't even look at houses to buy like 'normal' people do?" But then I was more compassionate with myself. "It's okay. You've been through a lot. Your resources have been low for years now but look at what all you've done anyway. You will get through this, but it's okay to take a break for now."

So that's what I'm doing. House hunting hurts too much right now. I'm taking a break.
Fortunately, I can share extremely good news: I found a place to rent! It is a HUGE relief.

So I will be okay. I am doing just fine.
I will continue to respect my healing process and where I'm at with things.

💜

Love To Give

Elaine wrote a post about the children of others and her comment to my comment completely moved me. I wrote that I wanted children because I wanted to raise them. Then I listed three typical activities that come with parenting but aren't exactly glamorous or anything. And she pointed out to me that not only did I want to raise my children, I wanted to love them. It's such a seemingly small thing to say and, in retrospect, so obvious. But Elaine gave me a gift. I know I am still navigating the occasional fogginess of the post-acute stage of recovering from infertility without children, and she gave me some clarity. And for me, with clarity comes a little bit of peace.

Thank you Elaine.

I wanted children because I wanted to love them.

I have a lot of love to give.

***

And on that note, I have something beautiful to share with you. It's part of the latest quilt that I've been sewing for the past two months. Who knew working with fabric would give me such joy? 💜

Infertility, Moving, and Bickering with My Husband

Well, that move was terrible!!! Lol. I think it will be like my classes at school: awful going through it but worth it in the end. Actually, I know the move was worth it because it has not even been a week and I am already happier living here. The weather is better and there is so much to do. I am excited. Once we finish paying off all of our moving expenses, I look forward to exploring what all this new place has to offer.

One of the things I hate more than anything, and I mean haaaate, is fighting with my husband. We do it so rarely, but we are both human and so sometimes we miscommunicate and/or get on each other's nerves. We were doing so well for awhile, but we really started bickering toward the end of the moving process. If you ask me, I was a lot more patient than him! I could not understand why this normally go-with-the-flow guy was so cranky and short-tempered.

(Don't worry. The bickering peaked over the weekend, and order has already been restored. Like I said, hey, we're human. Plus, it didn't help that the movers lost our most expensive item, something that was very important to my husband. I think that was, as they say, the straw that broke the camel's back. Now he has let it go and I am the one that's stressed about it. We are going through the claims process and his attitude now is if we get anything for it, that's better than nothing.)

After having all of our boxes and furniture moved into our apartment (minus the aforementioned expensive item that was lost), we ran to the store to buy some household things like a trash can and toilet paper. We passed by all of the Father's Day cards and I asked him, "Does that make you sad?" He said no and I said, "Really? Seeing Mother's Day cards makes me sad." And then we went on about our shopping.

Later, in the car, I asked him why he thought seeing those kinds of cards doesn't bother him when they still make me sad. He said, "I think you had a lifelong dream of how you're life was going to go, and I was just going to see what happened."

Oh! That's it.

I really could not figure out how we got through years of infertility with only two arguments that I can remember, but this move was so much more stressful. I think during infertility my husband was focused on supporting me. Having children was important to him, but it wasn't The Most Important Thing to him like it was for me. For this move, we kind of switched roles. Yes, I started the whole process by informing him we were moving haha, but I think he put more time and energy into arranging all of the logistics whereas I was more go-with-the-flow (partly because he was taking care of so much stuff). Suddenly, the stress of moving, our bickering, and everything made a lot more sense.

Thank goodness things are already back to normal. Well, I'm still surrounded by boxes, but I mean things between him and me are back to normal.

As for me, I think I have thought more about my children in the last week than I have in the last several months. Maybe because school took so much of my energy and now I have a little time to myself to think? I am glad I didn't move in order to escape my problems, because wherever you go there you are. I miss my kids so much, and I think I am thinking about them more right now because I know I would not be living here had they been conceived and born.

I told my husband, "I actually think life is going to be a whole lot better here, but that doesn't mean I don't miss my kids every day." He knows how I feel.

And then yesterday I woke up, first, thinking of my children, and then second, thinking of this sentence that just came to me, which I made into the following image.

Irritations After Infertility

I realized a couple of years ago that I have infertility-induced entitlement. We had just moved into our rental house and there was a problem with the kitchen plumbing that affected the sink and dishwasher. I was still living in a state of high anxiety due to the previous years of traumatic infertility and failed fertility treatments, and I was SO MAD about the plumbing problem. The plumbing *was* a problem and the maintenance guy *was* slow to fix it (and eventually it *was* repaired), but I still think my anger was disproportionate to the problem. My best friend gently pointed that fact out to me and that's when I realized I was subconsciously thinking: I've already lost my children. Everything else for the rest of my life should be easy.

But that's not life. That's not reality. There will always be difficulties and challenges.

So since that realization, I have tried to remain conscious of it. I try to be patient with my problems and patient with myself. With each passing year, my anxiety decreases a bit and that helps overall as well.

But I still notice it. I still notice my infertility-induced entitlement.

You already know this if you've been following along, but my current irritation is school. It is taking everything I have to finish up my coursework with my less-than-understanding, unprofessional professors. A couple of weeks ago I was accused of cheating on a test. I have never been accused of cheating on anything. Additionally, I have never cheated on a test. I'd much rather fail something honestly than cheat. Part of that is fear of being caught, but a bigger part of it is plain old integrity. I may be a lot of things, but I am NOT a cheater.

I got so angry. I was also extremely worried. Cheating is a big accusation, and it could've gotten me kicked out of the program. As I waited to talk to the professor that accused me, I texted my husband freaking out. He is usually a very patient person, but even he is down to his last straw with my program. He reassured me that we would get through whatever happened, that we were still moving forward with our plan. He encouraged me to stay calm and professional and handle the situation. But all I could think was: Seriously?? I've already lost my children and now I may be kicked out of a program that I have spent 3 years and a good chunk of change on. With nothing to show for it all? Again?? I noticed the entitlement I was feeling and took a couple of slow, deep breaths to prepare for meeting with the professor. The good news is it was all a big misunderstanding, she knows I didn't cheat, and nothing became of the situation. After an extremely stressful couple of hours, it was over and done. Gahhh this school...

As if I needed more evidence about the terribleness of this program... Remember my pregnant classmate? Well, I knew her due date was coming up and that she would be having her baby pretty soon. I didn't realize how soon. She came to class last week to take a quiz, a quiz that she would not have been able to make up had she missed it, and get this. She was in early labor!!! What. I ran into her in the bathroom and she was talking to another classmate about it. She said her contractions were about 15 to 20 minutes apart. I jokingly said, "Well, wait to have a contraction before you start the quiz (we only had ten minutes to take the timed quiz on the computer), and then hopefully you will get through it without a contraction." But I added, "In all seriousness, if you need anything, you know you have 39 classmates willing to do whatever you need." She came to school to take a stupid quiz while in early labor. Un-freaking-believable. I don't fault her at all. It's the climate this program creates. She felt she couldn't afford to miss it. Then after the quiz she went straight to the hospital. I'm still in shock over the situation.

The good news is she had the baby without complications, and she and her baby are healthy and doing well. The bad news (for me) is this is all I'm going to be hearing about for the rest of the semester. Every professor begins class asking about the baby and I often overhear classmates talking about it. I know it is good practice as I am re-entering the real world, but it doesn't mean it's easy for me.

The worst was last Wednesday. We were sitting in class about to go over a test we had taken. I assumed the professor was going to use the document camera to project the test questions onto the large presentation screen in the classroom. I looked up and, what was on the screen? Not the test. A picture of my classmate's newborn. Newborn pictures are the hardest for me. One of my best friends from high school had a baby two weeks ago and, while I am very happy for her, looking at pictures of her with her newborn is painful for me. And there I was, in class, just staring at this huge picture of another newborn. I quickly looked down and thought, okay, it's fine, this is normal. People want to see the baby. It won't be up there long. I will continue to keep my eyes on the page in front of me and soon we will go over the test. We began going over the test. I only had my answer sheet in front of me, not the questions, so I looked back up to see the test questions. But there were no test questions being projected, just the same newborn picture staring back at me. I quickly looked back down again. Surely the picture won't be up there for the duration of the class I thought to myself. A few minutes passed, nothing changed, and so I got up to leave the room. I told my friend sitting next to me that he could check my test for me if he wanted to but I wasn't staying. Then I left. I went and sat in the hallway, wondering if I was going to be there the whole class time. After about thirty minutes, a classmate came out of the room to go to the bathroom. I asked if they were done going over the test and she said yes. I asked if the baby picture was still up on the big screen. She seemed confused but said no. So I decided to go back in for the last fifteen minutes of class. I walked in and there were two of my friends going over my test for me, seeing which answers I got correct and which ones I got wrong. They knew why I left, but neither one of them said anything. They just smiled and said, "You only missed three!" Then the professor began lecturing and nothing was said to me about the whole thing. Thank God for my friends.

So yeah, I wish I wasn't still dealing with difficult moments. I've already been through so much. I don't want to go through anything else ever again. But I know that's not how life works. Just because I've endured one traumatic period in my life, that doesn't mean I won't have to deal with other traumatic episodes or even minor irritations.

At least, although I kind of hate saying "at least" but still, at least my surviving infertility gave me coping skills and perspective. When irritations arise I remind myself, "I will get through this." When bad things happen, I tell myself, "This isn't the worst thing in the world." Life goes on.