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Thursday, April 23, 2015

The Post in Which I Come Out of the Proverbial Closet

Its national infertility week.  Around here, that means I'm barraged by constant reminders to stop being silent.  So I'm coming out of the proverbial closet as someone suffering from infertility.  And yes, it is a suffer.  In keeping with this theme I'm going to lay down some very VERY general guidelines for fertile myrtles when dealing with those of us who are less...fecund.

No. More. Advice.
Stop it.  No seriously, stop.  I know that your cousin's uncle's step-nephew-in-law's land-lady's daughter got pregnant when she took a cruise or started using essential oils or sacrificing a goat to the God Ra, but that's not all that helpful.  To be considered “infertile” a couple must have been trying for at least a year with no success.  As a rule, that year weeds out the people who just need to relax.
 Believe me when I say that relaxing just doesn't do all that much.  I mean, modern medicine hasn't done all that much for me over here, I doubt that a cruise would help.  However, if you'd like to give me a cruise in an effort to help I'll happily take it.  Just don't expect me to come back with a bun in the oven.

Don’t try and minimize the problem
I remember shortly after the year mark going grocery shopping and counting pregnant women.  It wasn't conscious but it just sort of happened.  Each one of those pregnant ladies was like a slap to my face.  Somehow, their rounded bellies and their joy was them pointing out how faulty I was.  Of course I knew that they weren't even looking at me but my little brain didn't see it like that.  My brain saw judgement and pain.  This was made worse when people would say things like “At least you get more time just the two of you” or “Enjoy the time to sleep in while you can”. 
Guys, I know that spending more time with my hubs is awesome.  I mean, he’s freaking hot and kind of incredible how could I not enjoy it!  And I seriously adore my sleeping time.  My bed is my best friend.  It’s soft and warm and I love it.  Do you really think that being able to appreciate the great things in my life makes the pain of not having babies any better?  We all know that there are so many things we have to be grateful for, to enjoy while we can.  That doesn't change the ache we feel to hold our little ones close.   

Let us feel our feelings
Like most people we have complex emotions about this journey.  Sometimes we’re ok, sometimes we’re not, and sometimes we’re both ok and not ok.  One thing that gets me every time is someone telling me how I should feel.  I loathe it when someone says that I should be happy for someone or that I shouldn't feel bad because there are worse things in the world.  
In that vein, stop pointing out that there are worse things that could happen.  Look, we get it that infertility isn't the worst thing in the world.  Between the diseases and wars and general crappiness of the human race it’s no secret that some really bad things are out there in the world.  And you’re right, on a scale of one to death, infertility rates pretty low.  But when your heart aches for something, having it torn away is pretty painful.  You wouldn't tell a ballet dance that their broken foot isn't that bad because they have another foot.  You wouldn't tell someone who had just lost a child that it was ok because they could just have another one.  Please show us the same courtesy and don’t minimize the pain we feel.

Don’t try and feel our pain
Just like we don’t really get what it’s like to parent you don’t really understand what it’s like to be infertile.  I know, you try.  But it’s not really something you can understand without going through it yourself.  I know that you want to comfort but comparing how upset you were when it took 6 months to get pregnant doesn't really help us.  Speaking for myself, I tend to think rather cruel thoughts when someone tries to tell me how much they understand my pain.  It would be like telling someone with cancer that you know how they feel because you get the flu a lot.  Yes, there might be similarities but they aren't really the same.

Limit your involvement
You know that maternity shirt that says “If you didn't put it here don’t touch”?  The same principal applies to baby production part of infertility.  Unless you’re planning on giving us a baby or letting us borrow your womb please don’t get all nosy.  We’ll tell you things when we’re ready to, IF we’re ready to.  Sending us info on the latest IVF procedure or on a great new adoption site is just not helpful.  If we bring it up feel free to ask questions, but respect our right to limit our answers.  And please don’t assume that since we've brought it up once that we are ok with you bringing it up whenever you’d like.  Like I said, the emotional roller coaster is complex and there are times when someone else approaching the subject feels like a knife wound.
Oh, and if your friend says that they’re doing IVF don’t ask why they don’t just adopt.  The adoption versus IVF is an intensely personal journey.  If they want your advice or input on it believe me they will ask.

Don’t be that guy
Your friend tells you that they’re struggling and you think that a joke would be a great comfort.  Please don’t make it a crude joke.  No “I’ll donate” or “Make sure they get the right sperm” or “Maybe you just need better practice”.  If you want to make a joke try something good.  Like “Why did the chicken cross the Mobius Strip?  To get to the same side!” (If you don’t get it go look up what a Mobius Strip is).  Just, don’t be that guy.

We like to fantasize, but we’re not delusional
For some reason people think that unless you've had a baby or are pregnant that you can’t possibly understand what comes with babies.  And you’re sort of right, we don’t fully understand.  The logic goes something like this: if you can’t have a baby you suddenly idealize everything to do with having one.  I’m not sure how this comes about but I promise we don’t all believe that our angelic offspring will sleep through the night and eat well and never have a blowout (though the blowout thing would be nice).  We like to fantasize about those possibilities, but deep down we know the truth.  Don’t point out how much work kids are, let us find out on our own.  And then giggle as we show up with cheerios in our hair and juice on our pants. 

Don’t complain
There was a point in my life when a pregnant lady complaining about how she hated being pregnant made me literally see red.  It’s rather infuriating to hear someone complain about something you'd give anything to experience.  For me it would be a bit like Bill Gates complaining that he has too much money when you can't make your bills.  At that point you'd happily switch places with him.  I'm not saying you can't complain, but complain to other people.  You know, people who wouldn't give their eye teeth to experience contractions and morning sickness.  People who aren't infertile.

To paraphrase Dean Winchester, Shut your pie hole
I wish this one could go unsaid but don’t gossip.  If your friend trusted you enough to tell you about their infertility don’t break that trust by talking to others about it.  Infertility is very personal and very painful and most of us don’t want others to know.  That’s why for 5 years I've kept silent.  Let your friend tell who they’d like when they’d like.  It’s their story to tell, not yours.

Don’t imply that God/Mother Nature doesn't want them to be parents
Thankfully I've never heard this because I’d probably punch whoever said it in the face, but seriously don’t say this.  If at any point you feel like saying this would be helpful stop.  I absolutely promise you that it would not be helpful at any point.  Seriously.

Let them know you care
By and large the thing we want most of all is to know that you care.  The very best way to show that you care is to listen to us.  Just be a listening ear.  Let us cry and vent and say nothing while we do so.  If you must say something, repeat after me: “Dude that blows!”  “I’m so sorry.”  “Do you want some chocolate?”
What can you do to make it all better?  Nothing.  Short of saying “here is a child for you to parent” there’s nothing that you can do.  It’s not your job, don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself.

Support their decisions

Some people will choose to go through IVF, some will choose to adopt, and some will choose to live without children.  Your mission, and you must accept it, it to simply smile and hug them and tell them that you support them.  

Thursday, March 20, 2014

And...We're Back!

Well, sort of.  I'm super terrible at this blogging thing.  To be fair, I have about 40 different drafts of blogs to actually publish, but thus far I'm not great at the finishing part.Anyway life goes on and on.  We're getting ready to move again!  Which is simultaneously sucky and awesome.

Cali has been great in a lot of ways but I haven't loved his job.  There are many reasons, but the summary is INTERNSHIP YEAR BLOWS.  80 hour work weeks, no time off to speak of, high stress, you get the picture.  I kind of miss having a husband.  To be entirely honest about it, that's kind of the norm for intern years.  They basically try to work you to death.  They sort of succeed.  I haven't met a wife who likes being away from their husband so you can imagine how little I've enjoyed it.

Now however we're getting ready to move to Washington!  Which is absolutely thrilling.  DrH has matched (an entirely different post for a different day when its not 2 am) with a military position, which means that he's currently in the process of joining the army.  Which is something he's wanted for a long time.  I think it has something to do with his Grandfather serving in WWII.  When you grow up hearing those stories I think a desire to serve is kind of inevitable.

Anyway, that means that we get to learn a whole new way of living.  And he gets to do some great work for very deserving people.  Upside for me, we get to travel (I kind of love traveling) and someone else will pack and move my crap!  Yes, that last one holds the most interest to me.  I hate packing.  Big strong guys doing my least favorite task for me?  Yes please!

So for now we're waiting for various boards to meet, paper work to go through, and duck walks to work out (I don't know what it means either but apparently its something you do when entering the military).  Its an exciting time of life!

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Its the Small Things

Today I gave my dog an ice cube.

I know what you're asking, why on earth is that note worthy or even interesting?  Well, to answer you have to to go back a little bit.

Our apartment is still in that obnoxious stage of unpacking where its a disaster because everything is making its way out of boxes but their "homes" haven't been found yet.  I also have this lovely habit of half finishing my projects.  So I'll start one, get halfway done, and then get distracted.  But because I know that I'll come back to it I just leave everything out waiting...you can see how this could become problematic.

So this cycle of sad has been weighing on me and I've been very much in a self pity mode.  Which is just not attractive y'all!

At any rate, I'm sitting here, being mopey, and I decide to go get some water.  I have this issue with water...as long as its ice cold I can drink just about anything, and the water here is NASTY.  Pull out ice cube tray, put some in glass, accidentally drop one.  At which point the Pup-tar runs over to beg for it.  Naturally I hand it to her which then starts the cutest thing ever.

See, she likes to play with her food.  So she'll take whatever it is, in this case the ice cube, to a fairly empty space of floor where she'll drop it and then proceed to bounce around it all the while playing nose tag with it.  In that moment she is the happiest little dog the world has known, all because of an ice cube.

Today this struck me.  I realized that I need to take a page from her book.  I'm getting caught up in these huge things, things I have no control over and because of that I'm missing the little chances for joy.  Those ice cube moments are wasted on me because I'm choosing to ignore them.

I live in a beautiful area.  I have a wonderful husband.  I have an amazing mom and some pretty awesome cousins, aunts, and uncles.  I married into an incredible family who I wouldn't trade for the world.  I have a roof over my head, electricity to run the tech stuff that I'm playing with right now, food in my refrigerator, clothing on my booty, and shoes on my feet (assuming that put them on of course).  And these are just the big things!  Imagine what the list would be if I started listing the specific minutia that makes my life wonderful.

Today I gave my dog an ice cube, and in the 5 minutes it took her to eat it she taught me just what was really wrong with my life.  And it wasn't at all what I thought it was.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

You know you're a med wife when...

  • Your husband comes home at 9 pm and you're shocked at how early he's home.
  • You find yourself screaming obscenities at the TV show that has a minor character involved in medicine (Looking at you, The Glades) because they keep getting everything wrong.
  • You find yourself translating and reading the scripts for the pharmacist.
  • You have a pile of papers that you don't look at cuz it might (but never does because all of that stuff stays at the hospital, you're just crazy) have patient information on it.
  • You find yourself going to more functions alone than you do with your husband.
  • You don't bother going into the doctor for most ailments, instead you either hijack your husband when he gets home or you grab his med equipment and use it yourself.
  • You have more conversations with your dog (or cat) than you do with your spouse.
  • You're in a long distance relationship, but you're still in the same city
  • You use the terms "lacerations", "contusions", and "ecchymosis" instead of "cuts", "scrapes", and "bruises".
  • You realize that you're having a panic attack because the children's toys are making noises and it sounds like his beeper/pager/phone thing (which would mean that he left it home and that the world just might come to an end).
  • You take pictures of you and your husband together just so that people will stop thinking that you've made him up.  Seriously guys, he exists I tell you!
  • You notice that the docs have stopped asking you questions and instead direct them at your hubby.  You're not entirely sure if this is for diagnostic purposes or for pimping...
  • You schedule your OBGYN visits based on the call schedule, just in case the doc on that service is actually a friend.  No one wants to have dinner with someone who's seen their hoo hoo when that someone isn't their husband.
  • You understand exactly where the Dowager Countess is coming from with this


*Pimping is a medical term for when Attending Doctors ask Underling Doctors (so...interns and residents) questions.  I have yet to determine if its done to help learning or if its done just to trip up the underling.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

There's a burden associated...

Let me start you off with an anecdote:

I have a lovely young friend who is a lovely young mom to two of the most adorable little angles out there.  C is her oldest, and he's about 2 and a half, while A is almost 1.  Boy and girl and complete opposites in most ways.  Last time we talked, she told me of some concerning behaviors.  C wasn't talking for starters.  Nothing, not words, not babbles like mamama or dadadada.  Occasionally he'll make some slightly repetitive noises, but for the most part he's silent.  A on the other hand chats away non stop.  Never stops in fact.  C hates being held.  Sometimes he'll want a story so he'll let Mamma read to him but if she does more than let him sit on her lap he freaks.  A meanwhile constantly wants cuddles.  C seems to have meltdowns at the drop of a hat while A is generally a happy baby.  This is made all the worse by the fact that C can't communicate in a way that his Mamma can understand.  Which of course makes her feel like a failure as a mother.  The more she told me of her worries the more I just wanted to hug her.  It was heartbreaking.  She sees all the progress that A is making and its only causing her to worry more about her baby boy.  

If you're anyone but a med wife what you hear is a tragic tale of a Mommy trying to do the best that she can with her precious babies.  If you're me on the other hand, what you hear is a loud siren screaming AUTISM!  

One of the awful side effects of being married to medicine is that you see and hear more warning signs than the average person.  Someone talks about being tired, hair falling out, weight gain or loss, med people hear hypothyroidism.  Normal people hear bad sleep, shampoo, and exercise.  This hyper-awareness is one of the burdens of this life.  It borders on hyphochondriasis.

Its really rather strange.  Not only do the actual doctors have to deal with this but very frequently the families develop this side effect.  Its always fun, and by fun I mean totally annoying.  Eventually we all get used to it, and maybe that's the even bigger burden.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Ah moving, though art a heartless, well you know

Sweet baby rays moving sucks!  Everything about it is awful!  The packing, the driving, the loading and then the unloading, and finally at last the unpacking.  That stage where you take everything out of those blasted boxes and feel a little of your sanity slip away. 

And that's where I am right now.  Loosing my mind to the piles of boxes.  Thankfully we have internet now.  And Craigslist, can't forget that.  We were able to get a sweet sectional sofa for free, and its even in good condition!

This move has me thinking a lot about our last move.  Where in the space of five weeks we got married, went on a honeymoon, moved to Pennsylvania, bought a house, bought a dog, started med school for DrH, and started interior design school for me.  We apparently don't do things the normal way.  

Well, this time was no different.  The actually events were different of course, but the fevered pitch, that stayed.  Sunday morning we left Pennsylvania for Idaho, in a vibe full of stuff with a car topper full of stuff and a truck full of stuff dragging a trailer full of stuff.  Driving straight we made it to Idaho on Tuesday morning.  We then hung out with family for a couple of days before leaving on Friday morning.  Traveling all night on Friday we made it to California on Saturday morning.  

Around this time we found out that the original apartment we were looking at would take another 2 weeks to move into.  You can imagine how well this went over given that we were roughly 18 hours away from actually BEING in California.  So we found another place.  Getting into town at 10, we toured the place at 10:30, started the paperwork at 11:00, signed the lease at 2:30, and started moving our stuff in at 3:30.  By 6, we were dressed up and fancy at the local Sheraton where we chatted with a bunch of med people at the hospital's welcome dinner.  Sunday we continued to unpack the truck, got a sofa, looked for a frig (because in this area of California apartments don't come with them.  Yeah, weirded me out too), and eventually passed out so that DrH could get to orientation at 6:30 in the morning. 

So here I am, unpacking after a crazy weekend.  Waiting for DrH to come home so that we can go pick up the moving dolly and frig we got off of Craigslist and wondering what I did in my past lives for karma to kick me so hard.  

Moral of the story?  Moving sucks.  Next time, I pay people.  I wish.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Just a little MIA

Yeah...I've been just a little missing from my plan to update this blog weekly.  Stop judging!

In my defense its been a crazy few weeks.  First off, the whole house thing.  This may surprise you but revamping a house to get it sell ready takes a LONG FREAKING TIME!  Many sore backs and random bruises/burns/cuts have ensued.  Then there was graduation which of course meant family came in.  And then there was the house.  Did I mention that we're trying to sell it?

But...drum roll please...the house is officially on the market!  A few weeks later than we wanted but we now have a great product to put out there instead of just a good one.  Its exciting to me.

We are now down to our final days here in PA.  Which gives me a little bit of what I like to call "graduation goggles".  You know that feeling you got when you were about to graduate high school and move away from family and friends?  Suddenly you started to miss the people you never even talked to.  I'm starting to get that for this place.  And then I go driving and remember just how much I'm excited to leave and not be here anymore.

Don't get me wrong, its been great.  Our little neighborhood is fantastic and I love our neighbors.  The friends we've made here have been awesome and I'll miss them terribly.  But the old wanderlust has started to set in and I'm feeling the need to fly away.  I like adventure.

So here we are, getting ready to run to California and just counting the days until we leave.  Its kind of surreal.