Comparing Myself: A Resolve

I call this my "Peter Pan Pose". . . 20 pounds ago.

Fact: I have gained 20 pounds since moving to the East Coast. 


Fact: I have dealt with way more stressors than I anticipated. It is kind of off the charts.


Fact: I spend too much time reading online celebrity gossip. 


Fact: I also spend too much time on facebook.

I saw a post on comparing yourself to others on A Blog About Love. Mara, the author, left a comment on the post that stated that "the things we envy usually would require a MAJOR sacrifice...it helps so much to remember that & then decide if we still feel envious." So true. I wish I looked and sang like Carrie Underwood, but holy cow. She has tabloids, paparazzi, music industry managers, publicists, agents, trainers, and crazy, obsessed fans to deal with. I just have my crazy family.

Resolve: Stop comparing myself to others and embrace all that I've been blessed to have.


Fact: I'm still going to document my daily dealings with infertility, but I'm not going to wish away this life as much. I've got it good.

Facebook Oblivion

(source)

Last night, I came across this on my facebook newsfeed:

New Mother's Status:

I'm going to be really, really sad if I never make it back into my size 2 skinny jeans again.


After several supportive comments from others, New Mother writes this on the same thread:


Okay, so the size doesn't really matter. getting rid of the post-preggo chub does, though. it's hard when you've never been fat before! although.. I doubt I'd have long in them before being pregnant again anyway..




Oy. She obviously has never struggled with infertility OR her weight. She also clearly expects to be pregnant again soon. I guess getting pregnant the first time after 5 months of marriage will do that to you. 

Baby Preferences

I was riding in the car with my sister. Her baby was contently riding in the back seat. My sister knows that Mr M and I have issues with fertility. She asks, out of nowhere, "So, I know we have probably talked about this before, but what are some baby names that you like?" I think that for many people, this might be a normal question, but it was not a good one to ask me, for two reasons: (1) I hold my baby names close to my heart. I feel like these names are going to go to someone special, and I don't want anyone stealing them, and (2) talking about baby names makes me really sad.I told her that I didn't really want to talk about it because it makes me sad.

She then asked if I would rather have a boy or a girl. I answered that I didn't care in the slightest. I suppose that this, too, might be a normal question to ask someone, but not a person who wants a baby--pretty much any baby--so badly. I told her that I know people expect me to want a girl, but I want anything (...and did she miss the first response that talking about things like that make me sad?).

My sister really wanted a boy. When she was pregnant, she remarked to me that, if it was a girl, she "could learn to be ok with that." I know she didn't mean to be insensitive, but that is probably one of the worst things to say to an infertile couple: you could learn to deal with it if your child wasn't your preferred this or that. I know people have hopes and dreams for their children. I have them. But I also have hopes and dreams just to have a child, to begin with.

Oh, the things people ask, and the things people say.

Even My Therapist is Pregnant

I have been struggling with depression. I know that much of it originates with my struggle with infertility. So, I have been meeting with a psychologist in order to make some goals and help me beat this.

Today she told me that she is pregnant.

Is this some kind of a joke? I mean, isn't it bad enough that my facebook is already cluttered with ultrasound pics and cranky, morning sickness statuses? Now my therapist/counselor/psychologist has to be pregnant, too?

Now, I am actually very grateful that she told me, since she wasn't going to tell her clients. However, since she knows I struggle with this, she figured it was better to let me know before I started to see the obvious, physical signs of pregnancy. She gave me the option of switching counselors as well. This was thoughtful.

I told her that it would probably be good for me and that I would stick with her for now, but the more I think about it, the more concerned I am. I don't know if I will have the gumption to tell her when pregnant people annoy me--and how it affects me. Today I did, but she still does not look pregnant. Will I be able to talk so openly when she is 7 months pregnant?

Sometimes I think I should only associate with post-menopausal women. That would solve some problems.

Acting the Part

The other night, Mr. M and I were watching Netflix. We tend to do that on the weekends. I told him to choose whatever he wanted to watch. His choice was High School Musical (most specifically HSM 2). It may sound like an odd choice, but we are the type of couple that would rather watch episodes of Hannah Montana than just about anything else. 


Shouldn't this be a good indication that we would be great parents? We spend perfectly good weekends at home watching family-friendly movies. I guess if you want the part, you have to act the part. 


Good move, Mr. M. Good move.

A Grateful Mother

(source)

Last night, I attended a meeting in the community. The topic of the meeting was coping with stress--any kind of stress, and how it affects weight loss. The meeting was mostly women, and the conversation soon turned to children:

• Random Woman: Sometimes, when I am stressed, I spend time with my kids. They are content to just play, and they aren't bothered by other problems. It helps me to spend time with them while they are so carefree.

• Stressed Woman: What do you do when your children ARE the cause of your stress? 

• Grateful Mother: I am struggling right now with my sixteen-month old, because he is right at the stage where he is becoming ornery---but I wouldn't trade it for the world! He is all I ever wanted, and his worst day is still my best day, because I have him. He is exactly what I have always dreamed of, and I cherish every day with him because some people have their children taken from them, and I am lucky to have him.

• Stressed Woman: That's a good point. I never thought of it that way.

As I sat in the middle of the exchange, I was so very grateful for the Grateful Mother sitting behind me. After the class, I thanked her for her comments about her baby. It is so refreshing to hear women talk about their little miracles that way, and I wanted to let her know. She told me that she had had two miscarriages, and that she remembered what a blessing her little boy was.

Thank you, Grateful Mother, for being grateful for the wonderful little baby you have. I am so glad you were in that meeting, and I hope I am just like you if I am ever blessed with the opportunity to have children of my own.

Worthwhile

If this is true, than we are going to have some pretty fantastic kids.

Bathroom Sign

Tonight was excellent.

Mr. M.'s parents are visiting for the weekend, so we decided to treat them to a little of the local fare (technically, they treated us). We ate at a country-style smorgasbord of local food, and then we treated them (this time, for real) to a date night at a downtown pottery cafe. We each selected a pre-made ceramic work, painted it with glaze, and left it there for the week or so it takes to be covered with a clear coat and fired in the kiln.

In the restroom hung this charming little sign. I suppose to others it may simply seem cute. Of course, I picked up on the wording immediately. It could have read: "Please accompany children to the restroom." This would imply that, should a child be in your care, you should accompany him or her to the restroom. However, the wording "Please accompany your child in the restroom" implies that I even have a child...and also that he or she is in a restroom somewhere.

I wasn't offended by the sign. How could I be? Some employee/owner created the sign in the hopes that parents would take their advice and help their small children in the bathroom. He or she probably did not think at all about how it would read to someone struggling to have a baby.  It is sometimes amazing the subtle things that creep into everyday life for me, reminding me that I am different than the majority of the population. However, I know I'm not alone, and neither are you. 

The Cook-Off

I am going to a Chili Cook-Off at church tonight. It is kind of a big deal, especially considering that the first-place winner last year received the grand prize of a whoopee cushion. Since the first time I made chili was six days ago, I'm feeling pretty confident that the whoopee cushion might just be mine this year (though I think I would rather have a whoopie pie).

Along with this cook-off is a service auction for the youth. Members of the church were contacted to provide services that could be auctioned off for their cause (scout camp & girls' camp). When Mr. M. emailed me about what we could donate, I came up with the oh-so-original idea of babysitting. That's right: babysitting. What else would a couple in their late twenties with no children offer?

I did consider other talents and services I had to auction, like doing dishes, or Mr. M.'s piano-playing skills, but I want to make sure that the youth actually get some bids on our entry. And what could be more valuable than babysitting to a room full of families with little kiddos?

Of course, I actually do enjoy babysitting. I do it on the side for some families in the community (and they pay me more per hour than my office job). But the whole fact that I can easily offer this service is kind of disheartening. Ideally, I would be the one bidding on the babysitting. If things worked out according to my plan, I would be clamoring to get the chili done while being interrupted by a screaming toddler and infant. Instead, I will be struggling to get chili done because (a) I'm a chili expert with only six days of experience, and (b) I bought Netflix last month.

I suppose either way you look at it, I'm still going to be struggling over the chili--and all for the sake of a whoopee cushion.

The Beginning of Longing

Christmas Break, December 2008

Perhaps it wasn't just one moment. Perhaps it really was a longing that lived inside of me forever, and then when it didn't happen, I noticed it. Kind of like how you don't realize how much you need electricity until it completely goes out while blow-drying your hair in preparation for a job interview in 20 minutes. Only this is much more serious. And much, much more painful. 

Over Christmas break 2008, I recall writing New Year's resolutions with Mr. M.'s family. I wrote my list and put it into a tin with everyone else's. However, when I got home, I added one final, most important resolution, a resolution I wanted to put in writing, but didn't wan't our families to know about: Plan for a baby.

I suppose I was successful. I did plan for a baby. We planned for a baby, and years later, we are still planning. Now the planning, however, is more of a longing. A longing which may have been placed in writing December 31, 2008 but it was present much earlier---and how much earlier, I may never know. Nor do I need to.