My 11th Survivor Anniversary

I can barely believe it's been over 11 years since my last fertility treatment didn't result in pregnancy. In one way, it almost feels like it never happened. I'm no longer trying to get pregnant or adopt anymore. I don't live in that house anymore. I'm not married to my husband anymore. It's not even "Who am I?" anymore either. 

Everything has changed. Where I live, who I'm with, what I do, and, oh, WHO I AM.

Yet, my 11th Survivor Anniversary came and went without much fanfare this year. 

Oh wait, that's not entirely true. I had finished the draft of my research article the weekend or two before, so I decided to submit my research ON my Survivor Anniversary. It felt great. It was not anticlimactic at all. It was a huge relief to submit it. I felt so damn proud.

And then the next day I received the rejection. (Really?? The journal editor didn't even sit on it for 24 hours?) And, guess what, I barely even cared. Of course I was disappointed. But the rejection email I received was so tone deaf, so freakin' RUDE that it actually made it easier to process the rejection. I read the email, rolled my eyes, and moved on.

I am not the same.

Infertility, failed treatments, and not getting to be the mom I always wanted to be changed me.

That's just the first academic journal I submitted my research to. Oh, it's on now. I will continue to submit my research until it's published. That first journal I tried? Their loss. Big time. 

On my 11th Survivor Anniversary all I could do was laugh at my nerdy self for living through my worst nightmare and then conducting RESEARCH about it. Hahaha. Nerd!

Have you seen Pretty Woman? This shopping scene is what I immediately thought of
when I read that rejection email. I found this pic on an old tumblr post.

Dealing with Reality

My views are back to normal. They have been for 30+ days now. Instead of thousands of views, a post may get a hundred. Not only is it an interesting observation, I think it's important to report.

In related news, my personal world is upside down. Things are good with my relationship with myself and with my relationship with my boyfriend. I know I can get through anything on my own. Infertility and failed fertility treatments taught me that. With my partner by my side, I can get through anything with laughter, support, and understanding. I prefer the team approach to life.
As long as you have the right team member that is...

But back to my upside down world: I can't find a full-time job where I am that pays a living wage. I'm about to lose my affordable health insurance. I hope that's not controversial to say because it is an objective fact. I cannot afford the expected increase on my monthly premium. At all. But I also don't want to post anything that catches any bots' attention. I even deleted several posts from my blog to increase my chances of staying under the radar. I don't believe I'm overreacting.
I truly believe I am being proactive.

So what does one do when all of your jobs have been in schools, hospitals, nursing homes, and food banks when you live in a country where the people in charge are dismantling the Department of Education, making healthcare unaffordable, and denying assistance for those who are food insecure. Some people think I'm crazy for worrying. I'm just being realistic.

If you are living involuntarily childless you know what it's like to have a plan that doesn't work out. You know what it's like to live a life that looks completely different from the one you envisioned and planned for. Like I say, there is the life we wanted and then there is dealing with reality.

So I am dealing with reality.

Actually, I had an entirely different post in my head that I thought I was going to write. Let me digress and touch on those thoughts for a minute...

I am really starting to hate IVF. I cried with a friend the other morning. Her daughter's round of IVF did not result in pregnancy. She is heartbroken for her daughter. Secondarily, I think she is also heartbroken for herself. I pointed out that she is allowed to grieve too, that she always thought she would be a grandmother. I think my friend was so concerned for her daughter that she hadn't even thought about herself. Hopefully, she had the space and permission in the moment to feel her own feelings too. 

I like IVF when it works, but, as we know, it doesn't work much more often than it does. When it works, it can be great. When it doesn't, it can be devastating. I hate it.

And that brings me back to dealing with reality. 

I thought I was settled where I am. I thought I would never move again. Hahaha. Plans. Yeah...

Don't worry about me. I have a new plan! And I am very excited about it! I'm just in the middle of executing it and my little world is currently upside down. I will let you know when I've made it to the other side. 

There is always the other side. Unless we stay stuck. But staying stuck isn't dealing with reality. It's just staying stuck. I don't fault anyone for staying stuck for a little bit, but I always want to encourage people to take that first step when they have the energetic reserves to do so. If you need help with that first step, including even knowing what that first step is, send me an email. We can figure it out together. I will cheer you on. We are stronger together.

 

I found this image on the website of this organization. I don't know anything about them, but I love this image. Also, my email is my blog name infertilephoenix at gmail if you need it.

Ten Years Ago

How has it been ten years already? How does it feel so recent and so long ago at the same time?

Going through IVF sucks. It's traumatizing. And when it doesn't result in pregnancy, it can destroy you. And a lot of us did it multiple times to try and get pregnant, have a baby, and raise a child. When you want children, when you want to parent, it's a primal need that can't be described.

Ten years ago I went through my first IVF process, crying with every shot, blood draw, and ultrasound. Terrified for egg retrieval. Dreadfully waiting to see how many eggs fertilized and grew. Feeling so defeated and hopeless by the time it came to transfer the only two that were left, although I was grateful for those two. And more waiting for another ten days to see how it went. And then the phone call. 

And then nothing.

Emptiness.

Hollow.

*****

Wow, that is not how I thought this blog post was going to go. But I sat down to write about ten years ago and that's what came out. I can still have a visceral reaction when I think about that whole experience. Thankfully, I don't think about my actual IVF experiences in depth very often. But, wow, when I do, the awful details can really rise to the surface.

I want to post this to honor what all IVF survivors went through. It was hard and it took so much to go through it. It demanded so much from us. It took so much from us. When most of us had very little support.

Now it's ten years later. Thank God. I'm thankful for time passing, the results from working hard to change my life, and the fruits that can come from doing the arduous work that is grieving.

I wrote a brief post five years ago.

Then I wrote about coping with trauma anniversaries last year.

This year I spent the anniversary finishing a quilt I made for a new friend. Several months ago she was going through a stressful time, so I brought her some quilt tops I had already made to see if she liked any of them. She loved one of them. I have been working on finishing that quilt for her since then, and I happened to finish on the actual tenth anniversary of my first failed IVF. 

I thought it was an interesting coincidence to finish that quilt on that day. I thought about her stress, my stress, and both of our determination to enjoy our lives anyway. The importance of friendship between women. The comfort that quilts can give. The healing that quilting can bring.

This is my first attempt at a log cabin quilt. I like it, but there are things I would do differently next time. I love the fabric. It's Elizabeth Hartman's Berry Season with her coordinating solids. The blocks' red mushroom centers honor the traditional design, which typically had red centers to symbolize the hearth of the home.

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.

Extreme Burnout

For the duration of this blog (8 years next month!), I have written about how tired I am.

You know my story...

Infertility, failed treatments, and realizing I won't be raising kids in this lifetime wiped me out. For a couple of years I didn't do much. I volunteered Wednesday mornings and went out to dinner with my husband every Friday night. I wasn't working because I assumed that I would eventually get pregnant. I wasn't socializing because all of my friends were getting pregnant and having kids. I was too anxious and depressed to actually enjoy doing anything, so I wasn't doing anything for fun. At least I had my dog at the time.

Then I decided, since I couldn't have kids, I was going to have to completely change my life or resign myself to always feeling like walking death. From the house we bought to my chosen profession of teaching, every major decision I had made in life was structured around having children. But I didn't have children, so the life I had created did not make sense. In fact, it hurt me deeply in every waking moment. Grief is exhausting, especially disenfranchised grief because it's so isolating.

I decided to sell the house I bought for my children, go back to school to change careers, and move out of state. I did all of that and then got divorced. Everything was exhausting. I also kept moving in search of a place where I wanted to live. Then the pandemic hit. 

Throw in more school (a privilege but still stressful) and several more job changes due to hazardous conditions at one place, an untrustworthy co-worker at another place, and being grossly underpaid at the last place...

I have been very tired for a very, very long time.

And I think I have reached my limit.

I tried giving myself a three-month sabbatical several years ago. It helped at the time but not overall. So now I am just following through with what I've already said I'd do and not committing to anything new.

I went out of town the last two weekends. One was a quick but stressful overnight family trip. The other was a days-long professional conference. Then this week, despite getting enough sleep every night, I have felt sick. Waves of nausea come and go throughout the day. I am worn out.

Infertility took so much from me. It is more than losing my kids and not getting to be a mom. It's also all the time lost to fear, anxiety, stress, depression, and exhaustion. It's the arduous recovery from the whole experience. It's the picking up the pieces of what's left and figuring out what to do with myself instead... and then actually doing it. I HAD to get up every day and do the things that I needed to do to get to where I am now. Nobody else could do it for me. But damn it was hard and I am still so, so tired.

I am trying to renew my health. I have exercised once a week for the last three weeks. That's not a lot, but it's a start. I am about to begin a new sew-along for a new quilt, and that community is fun. The season is changing and I love the fall and winter. I will feel better in time, but it is going to take an extended period of decreased demands on myself.

I am grateful I am in a good place. I like myself and I like where I am. But damn, I can just barely deal with life anymore. I am doing the bare minimum and giving myself a lot of grace. 

It's been a long 12 years.

Take good care of yourself.

I like to color. It's calming, and it requires no thought or precision. 

You don't even have to stay in the lines if you don't want to.

Yes. 100% Sure.

I thought about a colleague I hadn't talked to in about a year. (And by "talked to" I mean texted.) We went to school together and I was wondering what she was up to and how she was doing. It had been a year since graduation so I texted her to check in. 

She's going through IVF.

Oh... Yay!!! Oh no... I'm hopeful!! But. Oh... I don't miss that. 

Those were my thoughts within the first second of me reading her text.
My next thoughts were along the lines of "What can I say that's supportive?" 

And also, I thought this: that, no matter what, I knew she was going to be okay. I mean, hopefully she gets pregnant! That's what she wants. That's what she's going for. But if she doesn't... I know she'll be okay. (I didn't share that last thought though. I kept it to myself. It wasn't the right time.)

So I point out all her data that looks good and give some sincere, encouraging words. I also validated that IVF sucks and no one understands. She shared that it's really hard to manage all the adjustments--waiting, expectations, protocols, etc. It felt good to be able to support a friend in a way where I knew at least a little bit of what she was going through. It felt good because I know she feels alone in the process and it didn't hurt me to provide that support. (She has a loving husband. But you know what I mean.) It was just a text exchange, but I hope I helped.

But I gotta tell you.
She asked me, "Are you sure you're not going to have kids?"

And, without a single doubt or hesitancy, I texted her back: "Yes. 100% sure."

And... It felt good to say that.
Because being in limbo SUCKS.
And hey, it didn't work out for me, so here I am, and, nope, it's not going to happen now.

I'm not having kids. I'm 100% sure.

When I feel grief, I really feel it. I let myself. When I feel joy, I really feel that too. I allow it. My grief comes from the loss of my children; my joy comes from my continuing to live anyway.

Am I sure I'm not going to have kids?

Yes. 100% sure.

My 9th Survivor Anniversary

Wow. Nine years already? It's so true: the days are long, but the years are short. 

My first IVF failure was definitely the worst of all of my failed treatments, but my three IUIs and second IVF sucked too. You just put so much into the process. Time, money, hope. Driving to appointments. Bloodwork. Ultrasounds. Facing your fears and giving yourself injections. Facing your worst nightmare and not knowing how to get through it.

And for what?

To feel more empty and broken than before? 

I was completely lost nine years ago. For 35 years, I knew I would be a mother. I'd get pregnant and have kids. If that didn't happen, there was IVF or adoption. Something would work out.

I was wrong.

Being childless not-by-choice shattered my beliefs. It interrupted and completely derailed my life. It destroyed the perfectly reasonable future that I had planned.

Now what. 

How was I going to deal with this and what the fuck was I going to do with the rest of my life?

I didn't know.

And now, nine years later, I know: I'm gonna change careers, get divorced, move a bunch, and buy a house. I'm gonna discover a new hobby I love, love the spot where I live, appreciate the jobs that I have, and start to feel the peace and contentment I deserve.

But back then I didn't know. I was devastated, depleted, lost, sad, lonely, isolated, and clueless.

I'm not even saying anything in this post really. I'm just reflecting on my 9th survivor anniversary and how I felt back then and now. And my 9th anniversary means next year will be my 10th anniversary. A whole decade. What feels like many lifetimes. 

Back then it was year 2015. Think about that. How much has changed in the last nine years. How much the world has changed, society has changed, and we have changed. It's been so nearly insurmountably difficult. All of it. But daaang the resilience. That I have. That we have. 

I am so proud of us.

Photo retrieved from https://www.istockphoto.com/photo/purple-flower-growing-on-crack-street-soft-focus-blank-text-gm896570168-247562291

IVF Failure Mentioned in a News Story

This news story isn't about IVF failure, but failed treatments are mentioned in the first sentence.

This CNN article is about a couple that moves from the United States to Spain. Yes, their move happened after IVF failed and they reevaluated their lives. But really, the article is about the couple's cost of living being more affordable and their work-life balance being easier to maintain. 

It's another example of how moving can change the quality of one's life. 

But then the end of the article touches on involuntary childlessness:

"While the couple still sometimes struggle with the prospect of not having children, Luban, now 53, says they feel 'too old now,' adding that while they previously looked into adoption, 'the process seemed to be a nightmare, financially and otherwise.' 

'And it was such an emotionally (and financially) painful experience to try and fail, we couldn't go through it again,' he adds, stressing that they have 'no regrets.'"

*****

And now I want to take a trip to Spain...

(Picture from a hotel's blog post about the best tapas bars and restaurants in Ronda)

More IVF Failure in the News

I think momentum is building. I think more people are talking about the high failure rate of IVF.

Women have been blogging for over a decade. (Thank you to them!!!) There is more than one book published that talks about living childless not by choice. And now the news...

Last year MSNBC published this article. And we all read the Allure interview with Jennifer Aniston a couple of weeks ago. Then yesterday CNN published this article.

Not to mention, I've been digging into the research as I write my project proposal... Ten years ago? There were a couple of articles across the globe and disciplines addressing involuntary childlessness. Within the last two years? I found over twenty articles across the globe and disciplines during a four-hour deep dive on Friday night. (Yes, I am wild. I've gone from partying to researching on my weekends, both equally fun for me hahaha.)

It's happening. Information and perspectives about living CNBC are getting out there. Momentum is building. People are learning. Very, very slowly... But surely nonetheless.

(Image found at 

https://blog.hubspot.com/marketing/14-ideas-to-grow-brand-awareness-at-lightning-speed)

First Day of 2022 & 2021 Year in Review

Happy New Year! I'm kind of excited about 2022. There are so many quilts I want to make, lol.

*****

Even though I'm looking forward to making quilts and working on my home, the first day of 2022 found me in tears. Loud, wailing tears. I felt so sad and devastated. I really missed my children.

Overall, I like to share how much I love my new life that I've created. The happiness and contentment that I have are very real. But so are the massive losses that prompted all of it. And sometimes I feel my losses and the longing for my children very, very strongly. It's important that I share this part of my life too.

It happened on Saturday morning (1/1/22). I was hanging out with my boyfriend at home when all of a sudden I started tearing up, told him I was having feelings, and went to the bedroom and had a massive cry. A very loud, very painful, very visceral, and very real cry. I did what I could in the moment. I felt it. And it sucked.

Seven years prior (1/1/15) I had my first embryo transfer.

Oh. Yeah...
And January, February, and March have sucked ever since.
(Well, some things can lessen over time... Maybe they will suck less this year?)

So that's how 2022 started. I also felt better later in the day. I really do appreciate all that I do have. I put up the Xmas ornaments, cleaned out the fridge, and did some laundry. I made sausage and jalapeno queso because it felt like a festive thing to do. And, of course, I sewed.

So that's how 2022 started (crying) and how I'm feeling about it (enthusiastic anyway, haha)...

***** 

As for 2021, I read Mali's recent year in review post and wanted to reflect myself.

We all know life has been hard for the last couple of years...
(And, in our CNBC community, we all know it was hard before then too.) 

But... 

DANG, thanks to books, blogs, and a commitment to personal insight and change, 2021 was a major year of personal growth for me. I wrote about it a lot, but here are 3 of my favorite posts.

My first post of the year was written on Jan. 1st when I was feeling strong feelings just like this past Saturday. (Fertility treatments can be so traumatizing. The body definitely remembers!)

Then later in January I wrote a very honest post about how I used to always put everyone else first. It was important that I was honest with myself about this lifelong pattern of mine.

Continuing with my personal growth, I read four books this year:

• Women Who Love Too Much by Robin Norwood
• The Empath's Survival Guide: Life Strategies for Sensitive People by Dr. Judith Orloff
• When Your Mother Has Borderline Personality Disorder by Daniel S. Lobel
• The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck by Mark Manson.

I wrote a post about a topic I read about in the second book, Dr. Orloff's concept of energy vampires. All of the books were helpful though. I read the first three when I was unemployed last spring and I read the last one while I was unemployed this past month. So, hey, I take advantage of my time when I'm not working. Cheers to personal growth lol.

Which brings me to my Top 5 Most Read posts of 2021:

     5. My Name is Mine 

(I finished changing my name on everything. I no longer have the last name that my children would've had.)

     4. Feeling Insecure 

(I think feeling insecure is relatable in general. With regard to this post specifically, in hindsight, I think all of my weird feelings about my job were my intuitive instincts just screaming at me to run in the opposite direction. But, it can be hard to know in the moment. Going through infertility definitely shook my sense of security. And my nerves are still frayed.)

     3. Awkward Introduction 

(Yeah, geez, that job was weird... This post highlights the fertile bias that was overwhelmingly present at my new job orientation.)

     2. Fifth Times's the Charm

(The absolute best part of 2021, and hell, from the whole decade of 2011 - 2021 was buying my home. It's not a house I would've bought if I was raising children. It's not even in a town where I would live if I was raising children. But it is perfect. It's perfect for me, perfect for my boyfriend, and perfect for our lives together. Anyway, this post describes all five of the moves I've made since knowing I would be living life after infertility without kids.)

     1. Relatable Words from Others

(I'm surprised this is my most popular post of the year, but it is probably because Mali wrote about it here. Thank you Mali!! This post is about two different patients I had and the comments they made to me. I love providing patient care. I look forward to my next job where I get to do that.)

Then, last but not least, I also really liked my last post of the year.
Each year is full of "insignificant" days.
We deserve to enjoy them.

My first 8-point star blocks!

(Sorry for the bad lighting; it was late at night. This quilt will be for a knitter. Do any of you readers like to knit? I don't know any knitters. I just felt compelled to make these blocks.)

How Quickly I Forget

I already forgot. In my last post I reminded myself to keep today's date in mind, that it was fast approaching. And then I promptly forgot about it.

I woke up early this morning and braved the cold to go grocery shopping right when the store opened. I am usually the only shopper at that time as was the case again today. They don't do curbside pickup here, so it's the safest way for me to get groceries. I didn't feel that great while shopping, but I went through my list and got what I wanted since I was already there.

When I got home, I got sick. And I could just tell it was stress-related (not anything that worried me), but I was so perplexed. I went back to bed while my boyfriend put away the groceries.

I slept for a couple of hours, woke up, and got sick again. I felt a little sorry for myself, but mostly I was annoyed and confused. What stress am I under? I thought... Well, yeah, there's my new unemployment. But I have a plan for my job search. There's also the pandemic and missing my family and friends, but we are on month ten of that so that's nothing new. Aren't we all stressed? Aren't we all maxed out? I fell back asleep again.

When I woke up again at 1:30, it hit me. It's the date; it's the freaking 11th. The exact same thing happened to me last year too and I just wrote about it last week. I did a literal facepalm while still lying in bed.

Six years ago today I learned that my first IVF did not result in pregnancy. I didn't have any positive feeling that it had, but it was still devastating to get that phone call. 

I swear it doesn't hurt like it used to. I promise I'm telling the truth when I say I like my life. But I also have to acknowledge what a huge deal childlessness after infertility is and how damaging failed fertility treatments can be. Even when I don't consciously remember the date, my body remembers on a physical level EVERY SINGLE YEAR. That's how big of a loss it is for me. 

And that is why I will keep blogging.

But, for now, I've had some rest, some saltines and soda, and I'm gonna call it an early night. 

Be gentle with yourselves, my friends. This shit is hard.

Then & Now

People often look forward on New Year's, but I do not. I remember.
I will always remember what I was doing on this day.

Six years ago today I had my first embryo transfer. I was scared. I was nervous. I was trying to be optimistic. But, quite honestly, I was over it all. I had so much anxiety that there would be a natural disaster or we would have car trouble and not make it to the clinic on time that I could barely think straight. My spirit was dying, I felt all alone, and those words don't even begin to describe how desperate and hopeless I was feeling at the time. But I definitely remember it.

It was a scary, anxiety-soaked IVF cycle due to my own mental health. I was barely hanging on. It was really bad. I was doing IVF after three back-to-back unsuccessful medicated IUIs. I never wanted to do IVF but had decided to try anyway. I traveled with my medications and syringes to my sister's house five hours away for an early Xmas celebration with my family. I traveled home and had my egg retrieval. I waited and waited and waited. They got a small number of eggs, fewer fertilized, and only two were still going strong on the day of transfer. So that's what we transferred. On New Year's Day. 2015.

Six long and short years ago.

So much has happened since then. Not motherhood of course, not for me. But everything else. 

(Selling my house I bought for my children. Going back to school for a new career. Losing my dog. Getting divorced. Enduring a pandemic. Moving four times, within two states and among two big cities and two small towns. Getting a full-time job in my old career. Finding a part-time job in my new career. Developing an unshakeable inner resolve and self-confidence. Landing a full-time job in my new career. Quitting that full-time job. Currently recovering from that experience. And soon I will look ahead as to how I want to financially support myself next... I finally live where I want to live so I will take it from there. Er, here.)

So, yes, the future is open.
But, for me, today isn't about that. 

Today is about remembering. And honoring what wasn't. And honoring what came from that.

I carry my losses with me daily as my grief ebbs and flows. 

I honor and feel my feelings without judgment. (Ok, I try to anyway lol.)

There is now room for light. 

I have energy for enthusiasm. 

I love myself and I like my life.

I am here now.

*****

After sitting in our dark holes for however long we need to, 

(and while still grieving) 

We Can All 

RISE 

from the ashes of our destroyed dreams 

and create a life we want to live.

Knowing When To Quit

Please excuse me, but a huge congratulations for myself is in order, thank you very much.

Drumroll please...

(Image above found on SineadBovell.com)

I QUIT MY JOB! 🎉🎉🎉

Yes, I am celebrating, but, no, I am not doing so flippantly. 

I didn't WANT to quit my job. In the middle of a pandemic. Without a backup waiting in the wings. 

But I needed to quit my job. And so I did. And now it is done. And I can finally write about it.

*****

At this point in my life, I've made many super huge and major decisions. They are never easy, but I've distilled a process for myself that I'd like to share. Using this method, I don't rely solely on my feelings to make a decision. It's a very practical method, but it still allows for my value system to be at the heart of every decision.

          First, I go back to my values. (Make a list. You can do an internet search to get ideas.) 

          Next, I make t-charts of my concerns. (List the pros and cons of potential decisions.) 

          Then I look at my data and see what conclusion makes the most sense. 

*****

Quitting my job was a super huge and major decision. 

It also wasn't. It was just what I had to do.

I took off from work the week before Thanksgiving. For the first week, I went easy on myself. I knew I was stressed to the max, emotional, exhausted, and depleted. Then during the week of Thanksgiving I just enjoyed myself, the holiday, and the time at home. But as the weekend drew to a close, I knew I needed to figure out what I explicitly needed. So I determined three things I needed to feel safe at work. 

I returned to work. Things inevitably came to a head. I stated my three things. They conceded to one. And I knew I had to resign. 

I did the same thing with my divorce, which was probably the hardest decision I've ever made. But again, with my process, it wasn't really a decision I had to make. It was just something I had to do and get through. Once I looked at what I valued versus what my reality was... Well, facts are facts. Even when they're sad or hard or traumatic or devastating.

Like IVF. I went through that whole process twice. I'm sure many people can relate when I say I haaate needles and injections and blood draws. Just the smell of rubbing alcohol makes me anxious. But I did it. And then it didn't work either time, and I had a decision to make. Except I was done. There was not a whole lot left of me, of my personality, of my spirit. There is no other way I know to describe it: I was an empty shell. Facts are facts. I quit fertility treatments.

So, while it was not as difficult as knowing I had to get divorced or knowing I had to quit fertility treatments, it was still really hard to realize I had to quit my job. It was only a handful of months, but I put a lot into that job. I thought it was going to be my new career. I was growing very passionate about it. I envisioned retiring from the position. I invested a lot of time and money into training and materials. I quickly grew attached to my students and co-workers. Not to mention, I liked the paycheck and health insurance.

But it wasn't safe. And my concerns were not handled well. At all. 

And I had to walk away.

I cried a lot. A lot, a lot, a lot. In a way that maybe only fellow IF survivors will understand, it was a tremendous heartbreak for me. I know I'm not going to raise children. I know I'm not going to be a mother. But I was really, really excited (in the most healthy and healing way possible) to be able to build long-term relationships with students and to watch and help them grow throughout their 

K - 12 school experience. 

So quitting this job hurt in ways that I expect nobody but you all to understand.

It was sad and devastating. I have let myself feel all of my feelings so I could move through them.

Which brings me to where I am now. And right now I want to recognize that quitting my job also opens up a whole hell of a lot of time and space in my life. Perhaps there will be better ways for me to serve others. I will keep my heart and mind open to the possibility.

*****

So THAT is what has been affecting everything. I was very stressed about the lack of precautions being taken at work. In addition, I wasn't being treated well by my boss or HR. I was bringing a lot of fear and stress home. My boyfriend was an important support as he listened to me process everything out loud. It was extremely frustrating for him too. He and I are tired from the whole experience. For the past month especially, I really needed a whole team of people to help keep me grounded in reality (my boyfriend, his sister, a couple of friends that texted me validation, and three different doctors who all shared my concerns). But realizations had and decisions made, I submitted my resignation, waited out my two weeks, and quit my job.

And now it is done.

💜

Sweet Sunday

I used to play this board game (pictured above) as a kid with my grandmother and also my cousin. Because of it, I often think of the phrase "Sweet Sunday" on Sundays and I try to take the day as a time to both prepare for the week and also to rest.

My nerves are all over the place today. Sweet Sunday is more of an idea than an accurate feeling at the moment. I go back to work tomorrow. I don't want to, but I'm choosing to go in. I don't feel safe, but I've got a game plan for what I can do tomorrow to be productive while minimizing my contact with others. I will take it day by day. 

Really, I'm just waiting for the lag in reporting covid-related data to catch up from the holiday weekend. Surely, by the end of this week or next the numbers will unfortunately show massive spread. Then maybe we will all work from home.

Maybe.

So that major worry and brain dump aside, I am doing my best to enjoy my time off.

*****

Thanksgiving was a success! Well, Thanksgiving was weird and sad, but we made the best of it. It was also good and enjoyable. After two years of eating a vegetarian meal at his sister's house, my boyfriend and I were determined to cook a turkey this year with all of the traditional sides. We were also determined to make enough food to have leftovers. And we did! Delicious mission accomplished. I didn't take anything about the holiday for granted—the food, our health, the roof over our heads, and the love in our home.

I even started a new tradition for us: leftover cranberry sauce turnovers. As you all know, starting new holiday traditions as a childless woman can be a big deal! So I am definitely celebrating that. Last night I enjoyed the whole process. I mixed thawed raspberries with my leftover cranberry sauce. Then I added some sugar and vanilla and a little bit of cream cheese. I used frozen phyllo dough that I brought to room temperature. After brushing melted butter on the layered sheets of dough, I put two big spoonfuls of the cranberry mixture in the corner and folded up the dough into medium-sized triangles. They baked in 15 minutes (pictured below). It was fun and easy and festive. And delicious! Next year we are going to try making savory leftover turnovers as well.

And on Friday I bought us an artificial Xmas tree. We didn't put up a tree last year and I missed it. There wasn't any room so I just put up stockings. This year all of my stuff is still in storage about four hours away. But I got online, found something cheap, and it will be delivered this week. I bought some inexpensive lights and ornaments too. Just when I told myself I was going to stop spending money... :) But I see it as an investment in our mental health. These pandemic holidays are weird and hard and I think we will enjoy the Xmas tree and lights all month.

And speaking of my plans to stop spending money... There were so many online fabric sales on Friday! Aaaahhh. Hahaha. So I was strategic. I didn't buy *everything* I wanted. Instead, I bought fabric I needed to complete a couple of patterns I already own. I bought a quilting ruler and a quilt kit I wanted. I also found some fabric that will be perfect for my mom. So, you know, I shopped. 

But now I'm done. ;)
I will await my riches (Xmas decorations and fabric) in the mail. 

*****

So I'd say I'm doing a fairly decent job of distracting myself from what's really looming over me. I am extremely stressed and scared about going back to work, but, you know what, I was extremely stressed and scared about going through fertility treatments. During my treatments, I reminded myself that I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to do and that I would take everything one step at a time. I will apply the same advice to myself with regard to my current job situation. I will get through this. 

I'm thankful for all of the hard lessons I've already learned from all of the awful shit I've already been through. I'm thankful for my inner punk that will never let me forget that nobody is the boss of me.

I'm thankful for Sweet Sundays where I can do what restores me.

Work In Progress: My latest quilt top! 

(In The Woods fabric collection by Loes Van Oosten,

Josh's Star block design by Missouri Star Quilt Co.)

The Body Remembers

I fell apart on Sunday. I woke up feeling off and was soon unexplainably crying.

I felt hollow, defeated, and just so sad.

So I just sat with my feelings. Well, I sat with them as they poured out of my tear ducts. And came out with my shallow breaths. And I realized that my body was remembering a bad anniversary.

It's been five years since my first IVF did not result in pregnancy.

Five years since I got that phone call.
Five years since I hung up the phone,
collapsed on the floor,
and
howled from a place deep inside me,
feeling the worst pain and trauma
that could only be caused by
the most devastating loss of my life.


And this past Sunday I felt a fraction of that pain and sadness again. To say the least, it sucked.

So, Sunday sucked. I cried. I felt sad. I cried some more. Pretty hard.

Then I got out of the house and followed through with some plans I'd been looking forward to and I was really glad I did. It wasn't a very good day, but I did the best I could with it. Then it passed.

And I'm still left with a bit of an "exhaustion hangover" but that's fine.

It's all a part of the grief and recovery process.

Don't Count on IVF or Adoption

That's what I would tell myself if I could go back in time. I wouldn't change anything. I would still make all the same choices and stay on the same timeline and everything. But at least I'd know. At least I'd have a heads up that IVF and adoption don't always work out. Silly me, I thought everyone who wanted kids could have them, one way or another.

Five failed fertility treatments and one bankrupt adoption agency later...

I know differently.

I always wanted kids. But I always wanted kids later. I watched both my sisters get married young and have kids. They were happy thankfully, but I remember always thinking: I want my own apartment first.

So I don't have any regrets. I don't wish things had gone differently. I am actually extremely thankful. With the support of my family I got to go to college. Once I graduated and got a job, I got my own apartment. It was everything I had hoped and more. It was in a great location and it was back when I feel like things were more affordable and my friends and I had a lot of fun.

I don't regret any parties. I don't regret any late nights. I don't regret drinking beer, living off a diet of french fries and pizza, having boyfriends, going to smoky clubs, and eating greasy food and cake at two in the morning. It was fun. And it was exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to work hard at my job, volunteer somewhere, and have fun with my friends.

I worked with kids and I wanted kids, just not yet. I hadn't begun dating my husband yet. It just wasn't time. And that was fine with me. I've been known to worry about almost anything, so yes I worried about infertility way before it ever even needed to be on my radar screen. But I always thought, ok, worst case scenario and I face my worst nightmare, there's always adoption and IVF.

I thought they were guaranteed.

I didn't know if I ever wanted to try medical assistance, but I knew I didn't need to birth a child for me to love him or her unconditionally. I know how much I cared about the kids I worked with and they didn't live with me. I didn't read to them or take them to baseball practice. I didn't hold their hand when they were sick. They weren't my kids. But I knew any child that was ever placed in my home would be my child.

Except, of course, that never happened.

These are not the kinds of things I want to talk about when people probe further after they've asked me if I have kids. "Have you thought about IVF?" "Have you thought about adoption?"

No, I haven't. What's that?

(I really want to try that answer out sometime. If you do, please let me know how it goes. I would love to hear.)

No, I wouldn't change anything about my life. Not the bad times or the hard times or the boring times or the making mistakes times or the really really tough lesson times. I'm thankful for how it has unfolded, for the choices I've made and mostly for good luck.

I just wish I knew that IVF fails 70% of the time. That a lot of women have done a lot of treatments and have never gotten pregnant. That it's not easy or affordable. And that it's not this fool proof solution that I thought it was.

And adoption. I didn't realize... So many things... Adoption has changed over the years. Overall, I think there are more people wanting to adopt than there are newborns available for adoption. Also, I've had a lot of different jobs over the years and the time I worked for a foster care agency really informed me of the complexities of foster care and adoption. Plus, the agency provided me with great training about working with trauma-informed children. That was and still is my most favorite job I've ever had, but it wasn't easy. And I got to go home to a quiet, stable home every day to recharge for the next day.

So, in one of those hypothetical "If you could go back in time and give yourself one piece of advice, what would it be?" situations, I would tell myself: don't count on IVF or adoption.

I would encourage myself to live my life just the same. Work hard, be nice, have fun, volunteer. Make all of the same mistakes and choices. All is and will be well.

Just Don't Count On IVF Or Adoption.

Sitting Through a Lecture on IVF

The physiological response to trauma is so interesting to me.

Today's class covered trying to conceive and fertility treatments and I immediately had a physical response. I didn't know those topics were going to be covered in today's lecture. But there I was, sitting in class, listening to information I already knew inside and out. I just wanted it to be over with. But it kept going on forever. My stomach got upset. I felt warm. I think I might have sweat a little. I did all I could do in the moment; I sat there and paid attention to my breathing. And I occasionally answered questions out loud. Apparently no one else knew the answers. (They're all young and/or fertile. They don't have to know these things.) I would have felt weird about answering questions in class (which in no way revealed any of my personal information), but I often ask and answer questions in class so it was nothing out of the ordinary. Thankfully, the professor called a break.

Finally.

But still. The damage was done. I don't want to say my entire day was ruined because I don't want to think like that. But, my stomach was definitely messed up for the rest of the day. And I still had all of my classes to get through...

It was fine.

I got through it. I'm home now.
Had a good cry when I got home. Brief but cathartic.

F you trauma. Damn those physiological responses sometimes...

Stupid IVF

I wish everyone who wanted to get pregnant and have a baby could get pregnant and have a baby.

Just two weeks ago I learned about a friend who was pregnant from IVF. I was sad for myself but happy for her.

Today I found out a different friend was not pregnant from IVF. I was sad for myself and sad for her. She has many more embryos left in storage, so she is staying on the fertility treatment roller coaster for now. I hope it works out for her. I hope it doesn't all come at too high of a cost. And anyone who has tried fertility treatments knows the cost isn't just financial.

I hate IVF. I'm glad it works for some people, but I wish it worked for everyone. I wish we were told that it actually doesn't work over 70% of the time. This is such a rarely known fact.

I'm glad I made the decision to move on. The waiting and hoping and the devastation and trauma of trying to conceive was too much for me. I'm sad that I'm not a mom and not raising a child, but I'm glad I am creating a new life for myself.

A Weird Ending to a Friendship

I'm on Spring Break, which is something I never thought I would experience as a student again. But, here I am in my late 30s with a week off from life. Of course, life never really stops, so I'm trying to use my time wisely. Go to the doctor, take the car in, meet a friend for lunch... I'm thankful for this time, but I am also pretty bored. I'm in a better head space than I was over winter break and last summer and the years preceding going back to school. But honestly, I still need to stay busy. Having a lot of free time to myself, I am still letting my mind wander a little too much... Which brings me to today's post.

I apologize if I've written about this before. I think sometimes I repeat myself here on this blog (and definitely in real life- just ask my husband hahaha), but I'm what I call a "verbal processor" so sometimes it takes me a couple of times of rehashing something before I'm able to glean some helpful points and then do my best to let it go. (Side note: I think that's the first time in my life that I've ever used the word "glean.")

So, here we go!

I had this awesome friend. (Uh oh, past tense. So you can see where this is headed...)

She was so, so awesome. She always told me, even years before I ever started trying to conceive, that I was going to be the best mom. She was a mom herself, loved the role and her daughter so much. We daydreamed about us both being parents and raising our kids together. In fact, we were hoping she would get pregnant with her second the same time I got pregnant with my first. But you know how life goes... Instead, she got divorced and I learned I was infertile.

Still, we supported each other. We made time for each other. We really had a lot of fun just sitting and talking in each other's backyards. It's the simple things that really are the greatest.

After I had been trying for a couple of years she gently encouraged me to see a doctor. Then when I decided to try fertility treatments, she was my biggest cheerleader. It was such a difficult time for me. I was so raw and wounded and profoundly sad. I didn't tell anyone about my treatments because I didn't have the strength to deal with people's well-intentioned, yet incredibly insensitive and often hurtful, comments. But I told her. I trusted her. And she was the awesome friend I needed at that time. I will always be thankful for that.

Well, as we all know, the fertility treatments did not result in pregnancy for me. I don't like to say they failed, because I got to go through all the steps. I got to try the treatments, my follicles grew, we gathered a couple of eggs, they fertilized, and we were able to return them inside of me. But I've never been pregnant.

It's weird. I knew a lot of people couldn't support someone who is infertile. Either they don't know how or my reality made them too uncomfortable or they were busy with their own lives, I don't know. But support for someone going through infertility is extremely rare. This friend I'm telling you about was a gem.

But what I didn't know was that some people can't support you once you somewhat realize you can't have children. And this friend was like that. She could rally for me all day long as I tried and tried treatments and tried acupuncture and diet changes and vitamins and supplements, but it was beyond her capacity to support me as a woman who was not going to be a mother.

She and I tried. After all of my unsuccessful fertility treatments, my husband and I (well, really, me, my husband was getting over the whole thing by this point, but he kept going for my sake) kept trying the good old fashioned way for another year and a half. I thought maybe he and I would be one of those couples that got pregnant years later after everything else didn't work. My friend remained hopeful and optimistic. But I never got pregnant.

That's when things got weird. I wasn't pregnant and there was nothing I could do about it. I was grieving and it was extremely difficult for me. I was reading blogs written by women who were living life after infertility and I started thinking about what my life would be like if I never became a mother.

I guess that's where her support ended. It really took me by surprise. Here was the one friend who I felt had stood by me through everything and now this friendship was fading too. And then I got my feelings hurt. We were out having a couple of beers on a gorgeous day when she was sharing with me how upset she was that she only had one child. I never thought about it before, but all of her friends had two or more kids. I said something along the lines of, "Huh, you *are* the only person you know with an only child." And she replied, "Yes, it's hard. But then I think of you and remember it could always be worse."

Ouch.

Damn.

Wow.

Uh... I didn't even know what to say to that. I don't remember what I said to that. But it stung. Bad.

My life is so much worse? Well, dang, why don't I just give up now??

In that same afternoon she was encouraging me to pursue adoption. But then she followed it by saying she could never love an adopted child as much as she loved her "own" daughter, that it was important for her to carry the child to develop that maternal bond.

Again...  Uh... Okay...

Like I said, it got weird. I don't even know.

I continued the friendship for a little while longer, even though part of me deep down knew it wasn't working anymore. Our visits got less and less frequent. I noticed on social media that she only hung out with other moms. And once I stoppped reaching out every month or so, I just never heard from her.

So. Weird.

I will always be grateful for her support during the darkest time in my life. I wish we were still friends like we used to be. But, life has weird ways of changing. I am not a mother, I am not pursuing motherhood, and my former friend and I have grown apart.

I wish this was the only friendship that has faded away during my struggle with infertility, but, unfortunately, there are many. But this is the only friendship that faded away in this manner.

I don't even know how to end this post. I have no closing words, other than that situation took me by surprise and the whole thing was very weird. I wish her well.

I Do Not Miss TTC

I do not miss trying to conceive.
That was my first thought when I woke up this morning.

I do not miss charting my cycle. I do not miss taking my temperature every morning. I do not miss trying to time sex. I do not miss recording when we had sex.

I do not miss observing potential signs of pregnancy. (My boobs are extra sore. Does that mean something??)

I do not miss trying to analyze my cervical fluid. (Honestly, I could barely stand to even write that sentence down just now.)

I do not miss questioning everything I eat or drink. (Is sushi okay? Can I have a third beer even though I'm in my two week wait? Am I eating too much sugar? Am I consuming too much dairy? Am I not eating enough leafy greens? Is it okay to have a second cup of coffee?)

I do not miss taking 15 - 20 different vitamins and supplements every day. I do not miss worrying if I am exercising too much or exercising too little.

I do not miss reading TTC boards on the internet. I do not miss reading books that tell me how to conceive. I do not miss people's unhelpful, often hurtful comments and advice when they knew we were trying.

I do not miss going to doctor's appointments. I do not miss having ultrasounds. I do not miss getting my blood drawn. I do not miss injections. I do not miss wondering if bed rest is best or if I should resume normal activity.

I do not miss feeling jealous of every pregnant belly I see in the grocery store. I do not miss wondering how everyone else seemed to succeed while I was repeatedly failing. I do not miss getting my hopes up every time I ovulate. I do not miss crying every time I get my period.

That was a long, lonely, and depressing four years.
I do not miss trying to conceive. At. All.